#the bit with i did not love him reminds me of the room

[pellucid-constellations]

I'd Answer

You've been gone. Azriel's been broken. Something has to change, and Azriel would do anything.

Part 2 of If You Cared to Ask

“This is for you,” Mor huffed, plopping down a small bouquet of roses onto the growing garden that seemed to have sprouted on the table. “What is that, number twelve?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t count them,” you brushed off, your gaze falling on the gifts for a fleeting moment.

Mor hummed. “Are they doing anything for you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

Your friend shuffled into the small sitting room and gracefully landed in the chair beside yours, her eyes piercing a hole in the side of your head when you refused to look up. She sighed, and then sighed again, making a show of slotting her chin in her palm and looking forlorn. 

The third sigh was your breaking point. 

You placed your book on the table and turned to Mor with your brows raised. “Yes?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she airily replied. “I was just wondering when you were going to give this up. You don’t have to forgive the guy, but at least put me out of my misery and let me tell him where you’re staying. I’m basically a delivery service at this point. He says sorry again, by the way.” 

“Oh, well in that case—” 

“More than just sorry, but I can’t remember everything he said. It was all rambly and his face was all gaunt.” Mor pressed her fingers up to cover her eyes. “I’m not even sure if he’s eating. Rhys had to stop sending him out because he almost fell out of the sky.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad?”

You hoped your ruse was believable because hearing that Azriel was doing so poorly did make you feel bad. Your heart lept up to your throat at the prospect of your mate falling from the sky from exhaustion. But he had had so many opportunities to make this right and you weren’t about to give up your anger so easily. 

Mor offered a sad expression that looked authentic this time. “Y/n, he loves you. He’s an idiot and the whole lot of them are mindless fools, but Azriel has never loved anything the way he loves you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you snorted. “And he shows that love by forgetting me and then arguing when I’m clearly upset over it?” 

“I know. He told me how much of an ass he’s been. But, I promise you, I’ve known Azriel for a long time. He was just—just handling everything with Rhys poorly. He felt so so guilty when Rhys got trapped. You know that.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided Mor’s gaze. “I know.” 

The lack of vitriol in your tone had Mor perking up. “And you remember how hard he tried to get him back—how broken he was when Rhys sent out his last message. Az feels responsible for everything when it comes to his family.”

You didn’t need the reminder. The tortured way he carried himself over the past 50 years was evidence enough of the truth behind Mor’s words. And you had been there to soothe that pain, to help run the court that Rhys left behind. 

When silence persisted, Mor craned her neck to catch your gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, but you know he’s been in overdrive since Rhys returned. He goes off on those missions when Rhys calls, but… y/n, he only leaves without notice when his informants…” 

Mor trailed off. 

Your gaze finally flickered up. “When?” 

Mor bit her lip and winced. “He told me not to tell you this part. He said he didn’t want you to think he was making excuses.” 

“Tell me anyways.” 

“Fine. But you can’t rat me out.” Mor sighed and leaned back in the chair, still facing you. “He does go on every mission Rhys proposes, and that’s… stupid, but he tells you about those ones, I think. When he just up and leaves, it’s because—y/n, it’s because they're about you. You know there’s a slew of people that want you dead for your involvement up in Illyria. He has a team of informants with the sole purpose of listening for you name.

“He goes on Rhys’s missions because he doesn’t want his family separated again, but sometimes, it’s because he just wants to protect his mate.” 

A stone dropped past your ribs and into your stomach. “But, he never told me—” 

“You know these overgrown bats think that suffering in silence is an honorable thing to do,” Mor rolled her eyes. “They overwork themselves fighting the good fight or whatever and seem to forget that the rest of the world is still out there, facing the consequences of their actions. And… I think he just wanted you to feel safe. I think he’s been scared.” 

Something sickly climbed its way up your consciousness. You looked down at your hands as they rested in your lap. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel in six days, and each day had more anger coursing through you, building up a wall that you thought impenetrable. Because you were so angry; Azriel had disappointed you time and time again, left you feeling abandoned and alone, and then he got defensive about it as if you were the one at fault. 

Part of you always knew it was a defense of some sort, but you had thought it a defense of something nefarious. You had tossed around the idea of infidelity a few times, and that rivaled the thought of him simply falling out of love with you. 

But it was this. 

It was him hiding how hard he’d been trying to protect you—however idiotic his tactics may have been. 

“You can tell him where I am,” you murmured clenching your fingers into your palm. “And leave the door unlocked, I guess.” 

Mor had left the small apartment on the outskirts of Velaris before you finished your sentence. 

It took approximately 7 minutes for a tentative knock to sound at your door. 

Mor had left it unlocked, but there was still a knock. 

You took a glance at the pile of flowers on the table before heading to the front door. The old floorboards creaked under your feet, a reminder of the rundown apartment you had sought out after you left. It was a frantic process, searching for a place to stay; you hadn’t cared much for luxury or comfort.  

Opening the door was jarring. Azriel’s wings were half-raised as if he’d just flown down and then forgot how to control them. His face was pallid with dark smudges beneath his eyes. His hair was windswept, expected from the flight, but it looked tugged at and disheveled beyond that. 

“Hi.” 

Maybe you’d been looking him over too long because Azriel’s voice cracked at the single word. He sounded unsure, verging on afraid, and all you had done was pass over his figure with your eyes. 

You tightened your grip on the door handle. “Um, hi.” Your tone was harsher than you meant it to be. 

Azriel flinched. “I’m sorry, Mor said…” 

“No, I—Come in.” 

You stepped back and pushed the door open to accommodate his hesitant steps into your rental. Azriel stood in the middle of the space and wrung his hands as you shuffled behind him, a slight tremor showing in his fingers. You leaned back against the door with your own hands pressed at the small of your back. You watched Azriel’s lingering gaze trail over the flowers in the corner of the room. 

“You didn’t like them?” he meekly asked. 

Something inside of you hurt. 

“They were okay,” you answered. “But I didn’t want flowers.” 

Azriel nodded and his lashes fluttered shut. His hands twitched. 

“I’m sorry—for the flowers, I mean. They were a pathetic reason to send Mor to you. You wanted to be left alone.” 

“I did not want to be left alone, Azriel.” You kicked away from the door, bringing your arms across your chest for some form of protection. “I wanted you. I wanted you to care about me.”

“I do,” Azriel stressed. He took a step forward and the wood beneath his boot creaked. “I do, y/n.  I care about you more than anything—I love you.” 

“Then why couldn’t you show me? Why did it take me leaving, me getting hurt, for you to finally listen to me and see how much I’ve needed you?” 

Your chest was heaving, each word from your lips a choked gasp. Azriel took all of it and absorbed your full meaning, seeming to wince at every insinuation that he didn’t love you. His jaw quivered and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Why did you stop talking to me?” you asked, a broken rendition of your anger. “Why—Mor told me… She told me things. Things that make sense. But why does it feel like I don’t matter to you?” 

“My love,” Azriel stressed. Yearned. He rushed forward, abandoning all reservations and gathering you into his arms as tears began making headway down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t—I’m so so sorry.” His words were almost lost against your temple as he held you, each apology a whisper of a kiss against your skin. 

“You weren’t there and Devlon—he—” 

“I know, angel, I know and I’m so sorry. Had I known… Had I listened.” He pulled you back from his chest, crouching down to meet your eye and wiping tears from your cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was keep you safe. I thought I was doing that. I don’t know what Mor told you—” 

“She told me everything. She told me you’ve been following leads about me and taking on too much. She told me you’re scared.” 

Azriel breathed and it sounded anguished. “I am terrified. We lost Rhysand and now you are in the throes of a society that almost killed me. I—I wake up every morning and everything is good and I am so afraid to lose that. I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. But I almost lost you and—” 

You let out a breathy cry. “You could never lose me, Azriel.” 

He pressed his forehead to yours, the wetness of his cheeks now apparent. Azriel’s hands were firm on either side of your head and his fingers laced up into your hair. 

Gods, you missed him. 

You missed him and everything hurt. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just please—please, don’t leave again. Please come home. Let me fix this.”

The want was overwhelming. It would be so easy to say yes, but it would be just as easy for nothing to change. 

“You can’t do that again, Azriel,” you stressed, shaking your head and causing your mate to draw back. Only a breath was left between you. “You have to tell me what’s going on. You can’t—you can’t leave me in the dark. You can’t make me feel like that.”

Azriel’s head shook in desperation. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“I need to know I can rely on you—trust you.” 

“You can, angel.” 

“I need to know that you love me.” 

A pained sound escaped Azriel’s throat. He licked his lips and reaffirmed his hold on your face, locking his eyes with yours in a beseeching gaze. 

“I love you more than life itself, angel. I couldn’t breathe when you were gone. I can’t believe I made you think that I don’t. You are my life. Let me show you. Please, let me show you.”

You tracked your eyes between both of his. “Okay, Azriel.” 

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“I am safe.” 

“I love you.” 

"I know you do, Az. I know."

[allmoshnobrain]

After a bad date leaves you with a twisted ankle, your quiet but protective roommate steps in to help.

✦ on this fic: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, fluff, mentions of alcohol and a twisted ankle

✦ a/n: alright so this may or may be not based on my weekend lol i do love the roommate dynamics so if you guys have any suggestions or ideas for this au feel free to send me an ask! hope you enjoy the read 🖤

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Tell me how much it hurts,” he says, lightly pressing his fingers against your swollen skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, glancing down at him as he kneels in front of the couch, his fingers brushing over your ankle. He’s not being rough, you’re just in pretty bad shape right now.

“It hurts,” you say, keeping it simple, and he scoffs softly at the obvious answer. “I think it’s kinda swollen.”

“You think?” your roommate lets go of your foot, standing up and raising an eyebrow at you. “Remind me again how this happened, sweetheart.”

You blush. It’s Sunday morning, sunny, with a soft breeze coming in through the living room window. A perfect day for a walk, to get some fresh air — except you’re stuck on the couch with a twisted ankle, thanks to last night’s drinking that got a bit out of hand.

“I was out drinking with a date,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. “But I didn’t really eat much yesterday, so I guess I… overdid it. He was walking me home, and I tripped and twisted my ankle.”

“And what did he do?” Simon asks, sitting down next to you on the couch. You let out a soft noise as he gently grabs your legs, putting them on his lap. One hand rests on your knee, his thumb lazily drawing small circles on your skin.

“He wanted to call an ambulance, but I thought that was a bit much. So I just had him help me up, and we walked back. We weren’t far anyway.”

“You had to walk with a twisted ankle,” he said in that flat tone that made it obvious he was annoyed — not with you, but probably with your date. “Why didn’t he just carry you?”

“I don’t think he could… I’m too heavy,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“I can carry you just fine,” he grumbles. “What are you doing going out with guys who can’t even carry you?”

You don’t respond, just lean your head back against the couch and close your eyes. You can feel Simon’s hand still on your knee — his skin is rough but warm. He’d come home from whatever he’d been up to on Saturday night, only to find you passed out on the couch with a very obviously swollen and painful ankle.

Simon was a quiet, reserved roommate, and he wasn’t really around much, but that didn’t mean you two hadn’t built your own kind of intimacy over the last two years of living together. So, when he saw you were hurt, he took it upon himself to check things out. You’d told him it was just a twisted ankle and a moral hangover. Nothing too serious. But clearly, he didn’t think it was as "nothing" as you made it sound.

“I’m sure he’s never gonna want to see me again,” you mumble, eyes still closed. Simon’s thumb stops moving on your skin, a clear sign he heard you.

“Who?” he asks. You open your eyes to find him staring right at you, eyes serious and focused.

“My date.”

“Good,” Simon mutters. “He couldn’t even take care of you after you got hurt. Should’ve carried you upstairs, helped you clean up.”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” you say, a little defensive, which makes him chuckle.

“Yeah? Then why are you still stuck on this couch instead of upstairs getting a shower and some proper rest?” He smirks, and you just roll your eyes without answering.

“Where would you even be without me?” he sighs, standing up. You let out a small, surprised noise as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, holding you close. You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle, the sudden move and how close he is making your heart race. “You’re lucky you’ve got me, princess.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, but you can’t help closing your eyes and letting out a small, relieved sigh.

Because yeah, you know you are.

[itneverendshere]

wait you guys watching milo one night, and rafes like “when is it gonna be out baby”

this was ridiculously cute to write oh my god!!!!! love their dynamic 😭😭😭😭 thank you for the request ❤️

so blessed to be looking at you- r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Milo's little hand gripped the sleeve of your hoodie, his fingers sticky with remnants of the peanut butter crackers he’d demolished not twenty minutes ago. You’d just finished washing the kid’s sippy cup when you heard the familiar thud of Rafe’s feet on the floor behind you.

You were at his house, tucked into the living room, the glow from the huge fireplace casting shadows over everything. Milo was sitting cross-legged on the rug, eyes locked on some cartoon with way too many bright colors. Every once in a while, he'd giggle at something on the screen, and it made your heart swell.

Rafe slid up behind you as you walked into the living room, wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You’re real good at that, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, like always, but smiled anyway. “Yeah, well, someone has to be. My sister’s been running that graveyard shift all week. Milo’s practically my roommate at this point.”

He laughed softly, his chest vibrating against your back. He watched you twist the cap back onto the cup and set it down on the coffee table before turning you around in his arms. His eyes watched you closely, "You're so good with him," he said again.

You shrugged it off, though you warmed at the compliment. “I’ve had practice. Milo’s been around since I was seventeen, so I kinda had to figure it out.”

His hands lingered on your waist for a moment longer before he stepped away, glancing over at Milo, who was still oblivious to the conversation.

“Kid’s lucky he’s got you.”

You leaned back against the couch, watching Rafe watch Milo. It was something you’d noticed over the past few months — how he had softened around Milo, almost like he’d started to think of him as part of your little world. Whenever your sister needed help with him, Rafe was always down to hang out, no complaints.

If anything, he seemed to like it.

You’d only been dating for a year, but you’d already lost count of how many times he’d mentioned wanting kids. Not in a weird, pushy way, but just casually. Whenever you’d see a baby at the beach or out on the boat, he’d smile, and that sparkle would hit his eyes, and he’d say something like, “That’ll be us one day.”

You loved that he thought about it, thought about you like that, but you were always quick to keep him in check. You were still figuring out this whole relationship thing. Still, seeing him watching Milo like that, looking all soft and affectionate? Yeah, it did something to you.

“You good over there?” You asked, breaking him out of whatever trance he was in.

Rafe blinked and looked back at you, grinning in that way that made your stomach flip. “Yeah, just thinkin’.”

“About?” You raised an eyebrow.

He walked over, plopping down next to Milo on the floor, ruffling his messy curls. Milo laughed, swatting Rafe’s hand away, then promptly went back to his cartoon.

“When’s it gonna be our baby?” Rafe asked, so relaxed, you almost thought you misheard him.

“What?”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “I mean, you and me — we’ve talked about it before. You’re so good with Milo, and I like having him around. Feels right, y’know?”

Your heart did that stupid flip-flop thing again, and you bit down on your bottom lip to stop you from smiling like an idiot. You knew he was serious, even though he was trying to make it sound light.

“Rafe, we’ve been dating for a year,” You reminded him, “Let’s not go putting the cart before the horse.”

He tilted his head, giving you that lopsided grin that always made me weak. “A year’s a long time, baby. I know what I want.”

You sighed, but there was no hiding the fact that you loved hearing him say stuff like that. He was so sure, so steady. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place — how Rafe could be chaotic, reckless even, but when it came to you, he was all in.

You walked over to the couch, dropping onto the cushion and grabbing the remote to turn down the volume on the TV. Milo let out a little whine but didn’t protest too much since you left the screen on.

“You don’t even know what it’s like yet,” You teased. “Babies aren’t all cartoons and snacks, Rafe. They cry. A lot. Not to mention toddlers.”

Rafe shot you a look, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’re acting like I didn’t grow up with two little sisters running around screaming their heads off all day. I know what I’m getting into.”

You raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Okay, but babysitting your sisters is different than being there 24/7. Especially when it’s your kid. There’s no off-switch.”

He just shrugged, “I don’t need one. I’ll figure it out with you.”

That comment alone hit harder than he probably even realized. With you. Like it was just a given that whatever future kids came into the picture, they were going to be both of yours. He didn’t treat the idea like some far-off possibility — for Rafe, it felt like he was already there, just waiting for you to catch up.

You leaned back against the couch, watching him with Milo. Your nephew had crawled into Rafe’s lap now, not really watching the TV anymore, just playing with one of his trucks while Rafe absentmindedly pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Does it freak you out?” He asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Huh?” Your head snapped up, meeting his blue eyes.

“The baby thing,” he clarified, looking almost shy, which was weird for him. Rafe never did shy. “Like, when I bring it up. Does it freak you out?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out how to answer that without sounding like you were completely against the idea — because you weren’t. You did think about it, just like Rafe did, but maybe with a little more hesitation. It wasn’t that you didn’t see a future with him. If anything, you were more sure of it now than you’d ever been. But the whole baby thing? It was a lot. A lot of responsibility, a lot of life changes. You weren’t were ready for it yet, especially at twenty-one.

“I wouldn’t say freaked out…” you started, choosing your words carefully. “It’s more like—I just want to make sure we’re ready, you know? We’ve got time.”

He traced patterns on Milo’s back, the little boy already dozing off in his lap. “I get that,” Rafe nodded, “I’m not trying to rush you. Just— sometimes I think about what it’ll be like. Like, really picture it. You, me, and a little one.”

You smiled, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

The way he was talking, so openly, like this was his ultimate dream? It made your heart swell.

He wasn’t just saying it to sound cute —Rafe wanted this. Wanted you to be a part of it. You could tell that much by the look in his eyes, the sincerity there.

“Yeah,” you said softly, finally letting yourself imagine it, too. “I think about it sometimes.”

He grinned at that, like you’d just given him all the confirmation he needed. But then he tilted his head, studying you like he was reading every single thought racing through your mind.

“Don’t even think about it,” You warned him, scootching yourself away.

Rafe practically beamed, scooting closer to you on the couch like he hadn’t just been told off. “What? I’m not thinking about anything.”

You gave him a look, narrowing your eyes. “Oh, please. I know that look, Cameron.”

His grin widened like he was proud of himself for whatever scheme he had cooking up in his head.

“Okay, maybe I’m thinking a little. Can’t help it when you’re over here making me all soft and sentimental.”

It was so typical of Rafe to be half-joking, half-serious, always pushing just enough to get you thinking but not enough to freak you out. He had this way of getting under your skin and making you picture things.

Milo stirred in his lap, his body shifting. You both glanced down at him, expecting him to be waking up from his half-snooze. Instead, Milo blinked his big eyes open, looking groggy but alert.

“Where’s da baby?” Milo mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, making the tiniest pout you’d ever seen.

You and Rafe exchanged confused looks. “What baby, buddy?” Rafe asked, ruffling his curls softly.

Milo sat up, his brows furrowed, like he was personally offended by the question. 

“The baby! Dere was a baby! Where it go?” He looked around the room like it was hiding behind the couch or something.

Rafe glanced at you, utterly baffled, his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “Uh, Milo? I think you were dreaming, dude. No baby here.”

But Milo was having none of it. He looked at you now, all wide-eyed and serious. “No, dere was a baby! You had it, Auntie!”

You blinked, totally caught off guard, as Milo scrambled out of Rafe’s lap and stood up on the couch, looking around the room with this stubborn determination like he’d misplaced his toy truck. “Auntie had a baby! Where is it?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, clearly holding back a laugh. You raised your hands in surrender. “Milo, I swear, there’s no baby. Just you.”

Milo gave you a look that said he did not believe you. He crossed his little arms, glaring at the both of you like you were in on some kind of conspiracy.

“You’re hiding it.”

Rafe finally lost it and let out a snort, leaning back on the couch, looking at you with amusement written all over his face. “You’ve been holding out on me? You got a secret baby I don’t know about?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully in the ribs. “Don’t start.”

But Milo was still adamant, his little voice growing more insistent. “Auntie, I saw it! You were holdin’ da baby, and it had little feet! And it was cryin’! Where it go?”

You knelt down so you were eye level with him, “I think you were dreaming. You must’ve been sleeping really deep.”

Milo’s face scrunched up in thought, his head tilting to the side as he tried to process it. After a few moments, he let out a dramatic sigh, clearly disappointed. “Oh. I wanted to baby again.”

Rafe laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “This kid, man…”

You couldn’t help but smile at the whole thing, though there was something about the way Milo had said “Auntie had a baby” that sent a warm shiver down your spine. You caught Rafe’s eye, and he was already smirking, as if to say, See? Even Milo’s thinking about it.

Before you could answer, Milo yawned and plopped himself back down on the couch, clearly over his phantom baby drama, like it had never even happened.

Rafe leaned closer, whispering in your ear, “I mean, maybe Milo’s onto something.”

You gave him a playful shove, trying not to let the heat rise to your cheeks. “Shut up. He’s just dreaming, let’s get to bed.”

He chuckled under his breath as he got up from the couch, scooping a now sleepy Milo into his arms. Milo barely protested, his little head already resting against Rafe's shoulder, soft snores escaping his lips. You swore that kid slept like the dead. You grabbed his blanket from the armrest and followed them down the hallway. 

As Rafe tucked Milo into the small guest bed, you couldn’t help but stand in the doorway and watch the scene. He was so gentle, pulling the covers up to Milo’s chin and brushing a stray curl from his forehead. After making sure Milo was comfortable, he quietly shut the door behind him, and the two of you headed toward his bedroom. Sliding into bed, you were aware of Rafe’s eyes on you the entire time. He lay down beside you, resting on his side, propped up on his elbow. His other hand traced light patterns along your arm. Rafe’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer leaving just the sound of your breaths syncing up in the quiet room. He rested his chin on top of your head, his thumb lazily tracing circles on your back, like he couldn’t stop touching you.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

Rafe chuckled, his chest vibrating under you. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to memorize my face or something,” you teased, though you could feel his heart pounding steadily beneath your cheek.

He let out a soft sigh, his hand moving to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he looked down at you, it almost made you blush.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life now. That you’re here with me.”

Your heart stuttered at the sincerity in his voice. You looked up at him, suddenly feeling a little breathless. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice still quiet. “I’ve had a lot of crazy moments in my life, but this? Right here? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking him square in the eyes. “You know you didn’t give me much of a choice right?”

Rafe smirked, clearly amused. “Oh, didn’t I?” 

You gave him a playful slap on the bicep. “Nope. You practically steamrolled your way into my life.”

He chuckled softly, his hand catching yours and pulling it against his chest, holding it there as his thumb rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. “Yeah, well, look how that turned out. Can’t say I regret it.”

He was stupidly charming. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Rafe grinned wider, pulling you closer until your noses nearly brushed. “Exactly. So, no complaints from you.”

You huffed, feigning annoyance. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe I should’ve played a little harder to get. You barely gave me time to breathe.”

His lips twitched as he leaned in, brushing them against yours in the softest kiss. 

“I just knew what I wanted.”

[shhhsupertopsecret]

Orestes - Jason Todd

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

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

WC: 1079

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bed or couch?” 

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

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

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

“Thank you.” His sincerity burned your skin. 

“Of course, any time.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Chapter 11 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2500

Warning: Mild smut/fluff

You were back to bliss. Loving Joel had you high as a kite and light as a feather. You might as well have skipped your way around that afternoon leading up to your planned night away with him.

Since you didn't have to lie to your mother anymore, at least not fully, you took your time packing your things for the night before heading out the door. Joel was already out on the course with your father, and so all that was left for you to do was check in. With your father occupied, also playing golf, you figured checking in to the room would be a safe bet.

Your heart rate picked up when you drove through the parking lot of the hotel, knowing the golf course was adjacent to it. For good measure, you tossed on a pink and blue netted ball cap and hurried inside with your duffle bag slung over one shoulder. You caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the door’s reflection and decided you did good by wearing a cute but casual blue and yellow checkered, button down dress.

As you approached the front desk a middle-aged woman smiled. “Checking in?” She asked.

You nodded. “The room should be under Joel Miller and (Y/N).” You couldn't help but couple yourself with him. It was like a personal badge of honor to broadcast that you two were together - even if it was just to one stranger.

“Looks like you're already paid in full,” the woman explained, “Can I just see some ID, please?”

You nodded and retrieved your drivers license from your purse and eagerly handed it over.

“Thank you.” She glanced at your photo, typed a few things into her computer and handed it back. “Would you like both cards, or will Mr. Miller be by to pick his up?”

“I'll take both cards and just let him know I've arrived,” you decided on the spot.

“You got it.” She shoved both key cards into a white, paper sleeve and handed them to you. “Room 612. Elevators are around this corner. Breakfast tomorrow goes from seven to ten and there are fitness rooms on every floor. Pool is on ground level and the bar in the lounge is open until midnight.”

“Thank you!” You smiled, readjusted your bag and hurried around the corner to the elevators.

..

“Thanks for inviting me, Tim.” Joel exchanged a handshake with your father and the two of them chipped away at the bottom halves of their beers.

“Of course.” He gave a nod. “I hope you and the Mrs. can work things out. My wife says Cecille moved back in.”

Joel cleared his throat and took a swig from his beer. “She.. she's back in the house but we're not..” he shook his head, “..we're not getting back together.”

“Oh.” Your father's eyebrows raised, “Well, I'm sorry to have mis-spoke.”

“It's fine.”

He shook his head. “No, I shouldn't have said anything.”

“It's fine,” Joel assured him. “Cecille just decided to drop back in with no notice.” He added, “So, I appreciate the hotel room. You didn't have to do that.” There was guilt that rested on Joel's shoulders, knowing Tim’s daughter was accompanying him overnight.

“You're a good man,” Tim went on, adding insult to injury. “If you need anything from us, let Jen or I know.”

“Thank you.” Joel's smile faded a bit and he masked it by the bottle. He knew his feelings for his neighbor’s only daughter were real; but he was fairly certain that Tim wouldn't see it that way.

Fuck.

“We’re having that picnic tomorrow,” your father reminded Joel as the two of them hopped into the golf cart that would lead them back to the club. “Feel free to stop by and have a beer and a burger.”

“Sounds good.”

Your father cruised the golf cart the short distance back and Joel helped him load his clubs into the trunk of his car. The men parted ways with a handshake as Joel thanked him again for the room.

“I hope you get things sorted out,” your father said with a nod. He gave a wave and slunk into the driver’s seat before driving away as the sun began to creep below the trees.

Joel loaded his car and scooted around the corner to the posh, little hotel that was tucked into the trees and overlooked the course. He made his way inside, checked in at the front desk and made his way up to room 612.

Butterflies made home in your stomach when you heard the door to the hotel room click open. You were about to rise to your feet to greet Joel, though he made his way into the room before you could.

A smile bloomed on your face when your eyes locked. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Joel grinned back and shrugged his bag off his shoulder to the floor.

“How was golf?”

“Fine.” He stood at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips.

“Did my dad shoot for par?” You snickered but saw Joel couldn't quite smile. “What's wrong?”

Joel rounded the bed and sat down on the side of it, placing a hand gently on your ankle. You knew he couldn't help it when he leaned in and kissed you. It made you smile into the kiss.

He pulled back just an inch or two. “I feel bad for lying to your parents about all this.”

“It's not exactly a lie,” you reminded him.

Joel's eyes remained set on yours. He sighed and let his thumb dance along your ankle bone. “He comped me the room.” He began to shake his head and then looked back up.

You toyed with his hair and then rested a hand on the side of his face. “You might be the best man I've ever met.” You meant it, seeing the guilt in Joel's eyes.

“A good man wouldn't…” He shrugged.

“Joel,” you said, making his eyes meet yours again. “We’re not doing anything wrong. I get that we're neighbors, and that you're friendly with my parents, but I'm an adult.. and I love you. There's nothing wrong with what we're doing.”

Joel never looked away. His hand snaked up your calf, and he began to run his hand up and down the area. He tipped the corner of his lips up in a half-smirk. “You make a solid argument.”

You pulled him back to you, kissing him a little firmer. “As soon as I land my first real job I'm moving out,” you added, “And then you can come over to my place guilt free whenever you want.” You guided him down on top of you on the bed.

Joel’s tongue penetrated your lips and your arms wrapped around his back. “Then we wouldn't be neighbors anymore,” he whispered with a little laugh, making you smile against him.

As your hands pushed up at the back of his shirt, Joel aided your pursuit of him and ducked out of it. He hovered above you, locking his arms in place on either side of where you laid.

“I was going to take you to dinner first,” Joel said in all honesty while still smirking down at you.

“I say we do it all backwards tonight.” Your hand rested on his forearm. “Sex, dessert then dinner.”

Joel huffed a laugh. “Well, I usually don't put out unless my meal’s paid for, honey.”

You laughed a little louder, pushing yourself partway up and resting your hands behind you. Your lips were only an inch or so from his.

“If you really want to take me to dinner first I'll let you.”

Joel never broke eye contact as his fingers reached for the top button of your dress and undid it. He then did the same with the second and the third until you were able to easily shrug your shoulders out of the top of it.

Neither of you said anything else. You accepted a long, sensual kiss from Joel as your hand made home on the side of his face.

You couldn't get enough of him. You wanted to feel the weight of Joel's body. You wanted him inside of you - all the time. You wanted to watch the expression on his face and feel his breaths against your neck. Every moment of intimacy left you feeling needy and satisfied all at once.

When you felt him fill you, your breath became short. You had waited for this all afternoon - as if you hadn't just been with him in your parents’ kitchen earlier in the day. Still, it felt too long.

Joel’s fist gripped the pillow as his other pulled up on the back of your thigh. He nudged your legs apart wider with his knee and drove himself deeper into you.

“Fuck,” you whimpered the word and it motivated him to repeat the movement again and again. “Joel.” You wanted him so badly.

Your legs pressed firmly into the outsides of his, securing him between your legs as if to tell him never to stop. And he didn't; not until he was a sweaty, panting mess on top of you, groaning out as much of your name as he could manage as he buried himself in you a final time.

Fuck. There was something euphoric about watching Joel orgasm. Not only watching but feeling him in that moment. The muscles tensed in his back and shoulders, you could feel it beneath your palms. It was erotic and hot and made you fall deeper and deeper for him. You were a Joel Miller addict.

Your lips pressed together and Joel hummed a moan into your mouth. He rocked his hips gently into you a final couple of times before letting his head fall on the pillow beneath you.

Your eyes flickered open and you eyed the ceiling, still clinging to him as he remained dormant inside of you. Your breathing steadied and you swallowed hard. Before Joel you always thought sappy moments to be corny and unrealistic. While you still wouldn't label yourself as the lovey dovey type, you couldn't help but whisper to him.

“I love you, Joel.” You felt it fiercely and fully. Since first meeting Joel, you were a changed woman.

He lifted his head and planted a firm kiss on your lips, making your eyes close again. Joel then pecked your lips several times in a row. “I fucking love you,” he said in an enthusiastic whisper.

Dessert and dinner were halted by your lust for one another. After a short intermission littered with pillow talk and gentle touches, Joel pulled you on top of him for another round of love-making followed by an aftercare shower together.

When the two of you were finally seated in a dark corner of the hotel lounge, you were still fully flushed and glowing.

Joel's hand topped yours on the table and he smirked across the way, highlighting a set of boyish dimples. “Dessert first,” he reminded you.

Your finger traced over the back of the menu. “Something decadent.”

“You already had that,” he teased, still grinning behind his menu.

“I'll require an encore,” you said back, making him laugh.

“You may be the death of me.”

“I'll be gentle.”

The two of you shared a laugh before ordering a pair of espresso martinis and two pieces of what appeared to be a rich, chocolate cake. When the dessert arrived, it didn't disappoint.

Joel forked a bite of his own and extended an arm across the table, slipping a bite into your mouth. “Decadent?” He asked.

“Very.” You raised your martini glass as you finished the bite. “To..”

“Us,” Joel finished when you didn't.

You smiled. “To us.” You tapped your glass against his. “And tackling the obstacles together.”

“I'm glad I have you in my corner, baby. It's been a long time since I've felt that way.” He took a sip, prompting you to do the same, and then you leaned across the high top table to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I'll always be in your corner.”

Joel's eyes never left yours. “I know.”

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @writlingerz @vickie5446 @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[tetsuissohot]

Toji Fushijuro ONESHOT

☆summary. After a painful breakup, Y/N thought she had moved on from Toji Fushiguro, but when he reappears in her life, old feelings resurface. Toji, determined to win her back, confesses his regret and desire for a second chance. As the two wrestle with unresolved emotions, Y/N faces the struggle between her lingering love for him and the fear of getting hurt again. In the midst of their heated confrontation, passion takes over, and Y/N must decide if Toji’s promises are enough to trust him once more.

☆warning/tags: 18+fem!reader, casual, SFW, building up tention, ex's to lovers?, part 1

☆word count:5.1k

☆a/n: This my first work lol, please be kind and tell me where I can get improve! I'm thinking of doing a second part for this oneshot where things get a bit spicier. I hope you enjoy!

part 2

The dimly lit bar was buzzing with the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses, but Y/N barely registered it. She stared blankly at the glass in her hand, swirling the amber liquid inside as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—missions, responsibilities, and emotions she had long since buried.

But all of that seemed insignificant when he walked in.

Toji Fushiguro.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass at the sight of him. Even in the crowded bar, his presence was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an aura that both attracted and warned people to stay away. His dark green eyes scanned the room with a predator's calm until they landed on her. A smirk tugged at his lips.

He walked toward her, his steps confident and sure, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe he did—Toji had always been direct, never one to beat around the bush. But it wasn’t his confidence that made Y/N’s heart race; it was the fact that seeing him again brought back memories she had worked so hard to suppress.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was deep, gruff, and achingly familiar.

Y/N didn’t bother looking up as she took another sip of her drink. “It’s a free country.”

Unfazed by her cold response, Toji pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, his eyes never leaving her face. He leaned back casually, arms draped over the chair like he had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Y/N finally met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I’m not avoiding you, Toji. We’re just... done. I thought we both agreed on that.”

Toji’s smirk faded, and his face took on a seriousness that Y/N hadn’t seen in a long time. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Maybe you did. I didn’t.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay composed. “You were the one who walked away,” she reminded him, her voice steady. “You were the one who said this—we—weren’t meant to last.”

Toji’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. He remembered that day all too well. The bitter words he had thrown at her, the way he had convinced himself that he was better off alone—that she was better off without him. But now, sitting across from her, the regret felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he admitted, his voice softer now, laced with something Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from him—vulnerability. “I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Y/N scoffed, setting her glass down with a clink. “Easier? You think walking out without an explanation made things easier for me?”

Toji winced, his usual unshakable demeanor faltering. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being the one in the wrong. But he knew he couldn’t sugarcoat it, couldn’t charm his way out of this like he did with everything else.

“You deserved better,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I was messed up. Still am, probably. But…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m not here to make excuses. I’m here because—dammit—I want you back.”

Y/N stared at him, shock flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with indifference. “You don’t get to just come back after disappearing, Toji. I moved on.”

Toji’s eyes darkened, the idea of her moving on hitting him harder than he anticipated. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone else. The thought of Y/N with anyone else made his blood boil, but he forced himself to calm down.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m asking for a second chance.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to keep the walls she had built around her heart intact. “You can’t just walk back into my life whenever it’s convenient for you. I’ve been fine without you, Toji.”

He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming. “Have you? Because I haven’t been.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words settle over her. Toji was never one to admit weakness, never one to let his guard down. But here he was, laying it all out in front of her, as raw and honest as she’d ever seen him.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice rough. “It’s not. I’m no good at this… at us. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’ve spent every day since we split wishing I hadn’t walked away.”

Y/N could feel the cracks forming in her defenses. She wanted to be angry—was angry—but there was something in Toji’s eyes that made it hard to hold onto that anger. She’d never seen him like this, so exposed.

“Toji…” Y/N began, but her voice faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Just tell me there’s still something there,” Toji said, his voice almost pleading now. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she searched his face, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion, anger, and longing. She had loved him once—loved him deeply. And even though she had tried to move on, a part of her had never really let go.

But was that enough?

“You hurt me,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. “And I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

Toji’s face softened, his hand reaching out across the table, hesitating before he touched hers. When his fingers finally brushed against her skin, it was tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch her anymore.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I swear.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken feelings. Y/N looked down at his hand on hers, feeling the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his gaze.

She had every reason to push him away, to tell him it was too late. But in the depth of her heart, she knew that despite everything, she still cared for him.

“I need time,” Y/N finally said, her voice soft but firm. “I’m not promising anything, Toji. But… I’ll think about it.”

Relief flooded Toji’s face, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled—really smiled. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

As they sat there in the dim light, their hands still touching, Y/N realized that maybe second chances weren’t always about forgetting the past. Sometimes, they were about finding a way to move forward—together, despite the scars.

And maybe, just maybe, Toji Fushiguro was worth the risk.

Thank you for reading xoxo

let me know if you want part II!

[reaper-in-reverie]

—come, stay a while.

(though it's not nice to see a familiar face.)

preview.

Wrinkles settling in his forehead with his eyebrows knitted together, a deep, skeptical frown upon his lips as he scanned his reflection, a sense of dread filling him at the familiarity of it.

Oh god, he looked just like him.

synopsis. kaiser, and how his change doesn't seem to change much at all. angst. character interpretation.

warnings. derealization. typical kaiser backstory implications - abuse, neglect, etc. alcohol/alcoholism mentioned. blood but only very little. 1k words. not proofread.

notes. ooc definitely lol. i think it's a bit too melancholy but i don't plan on fixing it. I am projecting so hard. the hyperspecific details are actually references to me :3

He could physically feel himself get worse on more stressful days.

The dull bathroom light illuminated the mirror as Kaiser stared into it. He brushed his blond locks from his face, scanning his own features; the stress of the day etched into them, the natural gleam of attractiveness in his eyes.

He'd accepted a long time ago his life was but a reflection of people before him.

In the mirror, in puddles of rain, in the words of people around him — "you look just like your mother!" It used to sting, the reminder of a mother who looked exactly like him yet he never knew; never loved him as a mother should. First there was anger, spreading over his whole being like a wildfire — why compare him to such a coward, run from home and left her blood behind?

He hated it, disowned it like his mother did him; he hated his blue eyes, which seemed to naturally have a charming gleam in them; he hated his blond hair, which seemed so naturally beautiful he had to make an effort to keep it shaggy, to try to keep him as different from his mother.

The acceptance took years to settle. Eventually he'd come to live with the fact that his reflection was the only thing his mother had left for him to keep. He'd come to find comfort in this fact — somewhere in his blood he was both blessed and tainted with memories of his mom. Truly, engraved within his blood and soul, he still belonged to something. Almost comfortingly, he belonged to his mother. But he did not know his mother. She had no arms to hold him, no voice to guide him; just a face, haunting him in every reflective surface.

Kaiser would stare into the bathroom mirror and not see himself.

Now Kaiser would stare into the bathroom mirror and expect to his mother.

He brushed his blond hair falling into his blue eyes again, in search for something to belong to.

This time, there was something else.

Wrinkles settling in his forehead with his eyebrows knitted together, a deep, skeptical frown upon his lips as he scanned his reflection, a sense of dread filling him at the familiarity of it.

Oh god, he looked just like him.

For the first time, Kaiser felt the intense urge to cover his face. He winced at himself, looking into his own eyes with extreme disgust and judgment, his own expression reminding him of someone else. Why would his father make an appearance now? He'd just never thought he'd find himself looking like...

He tried looking himself in the mirror again, brushing some of his bangs out of his hair. Some pathetic part of him searched for his mother in the reflection, yearned for her care the same way he had when he was younger. And still, like before, there was no one who came to his side. He couldn't unsee it.

He took a sharp breath in, rubbing his eyes long enough until he had splotches of black in his vision. Kaiser looked himself in the mirror again—

And still, his father was there. Silently staring from the mirror in judgment.

Suddenly Kaiser was ten again. When he looked up to the low ceiling, there were splashes of milk stretching out from above his bed up to the corner of the room, painting the ceiling with stars. The pads of his tiny fingers were bleeding from trying to open a can of tuna. The familiar scent of alcohol filled his nostrils — his father was drunk in the living room — but he didn't move from his bed to ask his father for bandages. He did not move to ask his father to open the can himself.

His bedroom walls slowly rotted away, cracks in the corners, the paint peeling off. It didn't take much to notice how many things were in bad condition; entering the house itself had the doors creaking, hell, even the door to his own rotting bedroom creaked loudly when opened.

But Kaiser did not ask his father to get the walls fixed. He did not ask his father to oil his doors' hinges. He did not ask his father for anything. Excluding maybe all the times he'd beg not to be hit...

But he did not ask his father for anything.

And to think that but a child was soaking up such an environment. A polished and unassuming to-be-copy as it sat in the corner of the room. All he could do was reflect what he hungrily absorbed.

That's enough. Kaiser turned away from the mirror, hastily shutting off his bathroom lights. He didn't want to keep seeing his father in himself. He didn't want to see at all.

He walked into the connecting room, leaving the bathroom door open and grabbing a glass to fill with water. He swallowed with fervor, a dizzying feeling of misplaced yet familiar paranoia washing over him in waves.

He had to remind himself he wasn't ten anymore. There weren't any more rotting walls and no more drunk fathers in the living room.

So what was scaring him?

No, what was scaring him more: that it still felt as if his father was here, looming over his every move and judging his every mistake; or that he was the one bringing his father into his own life, in his own actions and in his very reflection.

That somewhere deep down, down to the very nature of his soul, he was bound by blood to a monster.

That somewhere deep down, he belonged to something.

Kaiser glanced towards the rest of his home now. A small apartment. He didn't even live in Germany anymore. Still, he felt he was carrying some part of himself with it. Eerily, it was like nothing had even changed.

Some of the paint on the walls were peeling. He placed the glass of water down to nervously rub the pads of his fingers together. He noticed the bathroom door was still open. Crossing the room to get his hand on the handle, he took one last glance at the mirror. It was dark in the bathroom. He couldn't see himself. He pulled the door closed.

The door creaked loudly shut.

║Ⓒ reapkusho on tumblr. 2024. all rights reserved. refrain from translating, copying, or stealing in any way, etc.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Ok, hi! I absolutely ADORE and LOVE all of your writing, and I know you're not going to continue Green Eyed World, but I just wanted to know what you had planned for the ending so my anxious ass can finally rest in peace. Would Remy leave his universe to be with the reader? Would they live together happily ever-after or would it be bittersweet? I'm just so curious and I know you're the only person who can answer that ^^'. Anyways, I hope you're doing well <3

Okay so! I’m gonna give you my favourite bits that I wrote for the last few chapters.

Keep in mind none of this has been edited ❤️

Chapter 10:

Remyknocks gently on your door, the familiar sound a small comfort. “Hey,” he calls out when

you open it. “I brought you that sandwich I promised you. Thought you might be hungry after everything.”

You smile, a touch of your usual banter returning despite the emotional toll of the day. “You actually made it? I’m impressed.”

Remy chuckles, stepping inside and holding out the sandwich. “Well, I figured it was the least I could do. Plus, I didn’t want you accusing me of forgetting again.”

You take the sandwich gratefully and start to unwrap it. As you both settle into a light-hearted conversation, the mood lightens. The joking and laughter momentarily distract you from the Heaviness you’ve been feeling.

Eventually, the banter dies down, and a more serious tone fills the room. You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. “Remy, can I ask you a favor?”

He looks at you with genuine concern. “Anything. What’s up?”

You hesitate, struggling to find the right words. “After today... I need to feel something real. Something safe. I know this might sound strange, but... could you stay with me tonight?”

Remy’s expression softens as he processes your request. He closes the door behind him and moves towards the chair by your desk, pulling off his boots. “Sure,” he says, his voice reassuring.

“Just give me a sec.”

He slips into bed beside you, pulling the covers back and settling in behind you. For a moment, he just holds you, hesitating as if searching for the right words.

Finally, he wraps his arms around you, his warmth and presence a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. “You did amazing today,” he whispers, his voice low and sincere. “I’m so proud of you.”

You close your eyes, letting his embrace envelop you. The comfort of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his soft words provide a sense of security you desperately need.

You shift closer, seeking solace in his arms, letting go of the day’s stresses as you drift into a more peaceful state.

In the quiet of the night, you find a semblance of peace, knowing that despite everything, you’re

not alone.

As you lie there wrapped in Remy's embrace, a profound realization begins to settle over you.

Amidst the chaos, the uncertainty, and the emotional turmoil of the past few days, one thing stands out with absolute clarity. In the midst of all the confusion, there’s an undeniable truth: your love for him is real.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest against your back, the warmth of his arms, and the sincerity in his voice when he whispered how proud he was—these things ground you. They remind you that amidst everything else, this feeling you have for him is genuine and unwavering.

You let the sensation of his closeness wash over you, appreciating the tangible reality of his presence. It’s a stark contrast to the abstract challenges you’re facing. As you nestle deeper into his embrace, you hold onto this truth, letting it be a beacon of stability in the ever-shifting landscape of your life.

With each breath, you reaffirm this feeling, understanding that no matter what happens, this love is a constant, something solid and real. It becomes a source of strength, something to hold onto when everything else feels uncertain. In the quiet of the night, you allow yourself to fully embrace this truth, finding comfort and solace in the knowledge that this love, at least, is something real in a world full of chaos.

As you lie in Remy's arms, the weight of the day's events begins to lift, and a deep sense of calm washes over you. Gently, you reach for his hand, which rests across your stomach, and bring it up to your mouth. You press a soft, tender kiss to the back of his hand, letting it linger for a moment before holding it against your chest.

Remy's hand is warm against your skin, a comforting presence that soothes your racing thoughts. You feel him respond with a lazy, affectionate kiss to the back of your head, his arms tightening around you in a protective embrace.

The simple gesture, the closeness, and the warmth create a cocoon of safety that you haven’t felt in a long time. As you drift into a peaceful sleep, the first you've experienced since the chaos with Thanos, you hold onto the tranquility of the moment. Remy’s presence, the gentle pressure of his hand, and the steady rhythm of his breathing provide a sense of security and comfort.

In this serene embrace, you finally let go of the stress and fear that have been your constant companions, finding solace in the knowledge that, at least for tonight, you’re not alone.

The night drifts on peacefully, each breath you take syncing with Remy's, your bodies nestled together as if they were made to fit just so. The usual barrage of thoughts and anxieties that plague your mind every night is mercifully quiet, replaced by the steady beat of his heart against your back.

You stir slightly, still half-asleep, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. In the darkness, his presence feels even more profound, like an anchor grounding you to something real, something tangible in a world that often feels like it's slipping through your fingers. Your hand still grips his, pressed to your chest, as if holding on to this moment could make it last forever.

Remy shifts behind you, and you feel his breath warm against your neck as he whispers your name, so softly you’re not sure if you heard it or if it was a dream. You can tell he's still awake, his hold on you tightening just a bit, as if he needs the reassurance that you're really there with him, just as much as you need it from him.

"Y' know," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with sleep, "you ain’t gotta do any of this alone."

His words are gentle, filled with an understanding that cuts through the night, touching something deep within you.

You don’t reply, partly because you’re too tired, and partly because you know he’s right. Instead, you just press yourself closer to him, letting the silence speak for you. Remy’s hand moves from r chest to rest protectively around your waist, and you let yourself sink further into his embrace, feeling more at peace than you have in years. As the minutes stretch into hours, sleep pulls you both deeper into its embrace. The world outside fades into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in a moment that feels both fleeting and eternal.

Chapter 11:

You stood on the battlefield, the students gathered behind you, ready to fight at a moment's notice. The X-Men stood on guard, a formidable wall of defense, with Remy right by your side.

His presence was more than comforting; it was the only thing grounding you in this moment of uncertainty.

Before you, Kang stood alone. His purple jacket flowed with the wind, hands clasped behind his back, a serene and confident smile playing on his lips.

"I thought he would’ve brought an army," Logan growled, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the solitary figure.

You didn’t break your gaze from Kang, your voice hardening with disgust. "Kang doesn't need an army," you replied, bitterness seeping into your tone. "He has me. It’s always been me."

Beside you, Remy reached out and took your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. The warmth of his touch contrasted with the cold dread creeping up your spine. When you turned to meet his gaze, his eyes were intense, filled with emotions that words could never convey in such a fleeting moment. His love, his fear, his desperation—all of it was there in the way he looked at you.

"I know," you murmured, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, though the words were as much for you as they were for him.

You reluctantly let go, stepping forward to meet Kang in the middle of the field. His smile widened, pleased at your approach. "I didn’t expect such a large welcoming," he remarked, his tone casual, almost mocking. Though he appeared unassuming, you knew better than to underestimate him. You could feel his power, a dark force that seemed to resonate with something deep within you.

"They’re ready to blast you off this field," you said, your voice steady despite the storm inside you.

Kang spread his arms wide, inviting the challenge. "Let them," he replied smoothly, pausing as he studied you. "But you won’t."

"What do you want?" you demanded quietly, the words laced with suspicion. "It's been you, hasn't it? Those dreams I've been having... you've been planting them."

Kang shook his head slightly, a knowing smile on his lips. "They’re not dreams. They’re memories. Your memories. Of a future you haven’t yet lived."

A frown creased your brow. "How can they be memories when there’s only one of me?"

He wagged a finger at you, teasingly cryptic. "Yes, this is true. But some things must remain close to my chest," he whispered, stepping closer until his face was inches from yours. "Those memories happen. I lay waste to every single person in this school. Every child, every mutant, every human." His gaze drifted over your shoulder, settling on Remy with a dark, deliberate intent. "Your boyfriend will be the last to go. That one, I'll make you watch. Unless..."

He took a step back, giving you a choice. "You come with me."

Your refusal was instant. "No."

Kang smiled, almost as if he expected your answer. "I don’t expect an answer right now. But I’ll be back. This time tomorrow, I’ll be back to get you."

"You sound convinced that I’ll come," you said, your voice firm despite the unease gnawing at you.

"Twenty-four hours is all I need for you to make up your mind," he said, his smile never faltering.

"And you will come."

Chapter 12:

The room was warm, the faint scent of your body wash lingering in the air as you sat on the edge of your bed, one leg propped up on a chair, your fingers working lotion into your skin. Your hair was still damp from the shower, and you were dressed in a pair of comfortable sports shorts and one of Remy’s shirts that hung loosely on you. The fabric carried his scent, wrapping you in a sense of comfort even as your thoughts swirled with everything that had happened earlier.

The door creaked open, and Remy stepped inside. He looked tense, his brow furrowed, and you could see the worry etched into every line of his face. His grey jumper clung to his frame, making him look both effortlessly casual and heartbreakingly handsome. You could tell from the set of his jaw that he was ready to argue, and you braced yourself for what was coming.

"You can't go with him," Remy started, his voice low but insistent. "We’ll fight this, together. You don’t have to—"

You cut him off with a small smile, looking up from your task. "You look really good in that," you said, nodding toward his jumper.

For a moment, he looked taken aback, as if your response was the last thing he expected. His eyes flickered with confusion before they softened, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

You went back to moisturizing your legs, the simple act grounding you in the midst of the chaos swirling around you both.

"Don’t do this," he continued, his tone pleading now. "You’re talkin’ like you’re already gone. We can fight him, chérie. Together. We’ve fought worse."

You paused, your hands stilling as you considered his words. Then, without looking up, you spoke, your voice calm, almost serene. "I love you," you said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Really, I do. I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long, but there always seems to be chaos. It never feels like the right time."

You closed the lid of the lotion container and leaned back in your chair, your gaze finally lifting to meet his. "This just proves there never is a good time, doesn’t it?" you added with a soft, almost bittersweet smile.

For a moment, Remy just stared at you, the words hanging in the air between you. He seemed stunned, as if he didn’t quite know how to process what you’d just said. Then, slowly, he crouched down in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs. His thumbs began to trace gentle circles into your skin, the warmth of his touch soothing yet filled with an undercurrent of desperation.

"Why now?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with a sadness that tugged at your heart. "Why tell me now when you’re thinkin’ ‘bout goin’? Don’t do this to me, chère. Don’t make me watch you walk away."

You reached out, brushing a hand through his hair, your fingers lingering on his cheek. "Because I don’t want to regret not telling you," you admitted, your voice softening as you looked into his eyes. "I’ve been afraid, Remy. Afraid of what this all means, of what could happen. But I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to leave without you knowing how much you mean to me."

His eyes shimmered with emotion as he leaned into your touch, his breath catching in his throat. "I’ve known, chérie," he murmured, his voice thick. "I’ve always known. But you ain’t leavin’. I ain’t lettin’ you go. We’ll figure this out, just stay with me."

You could see the raw vulnerability in his gaze, the way he was holding on to hope, to you, with everything he had. It broke something inside you, seeing him like this, and yet it made you love him even more.

"I want to stay," you whispered, your thumb brushing over his lips. "But I have to do what’s right. And right now, what’s right feels impossible."

He shook his head, his grip on your thighs tightening as if he could physically hold you here, keep you safe by sheer will alone. "There’s always a way," he insisted, his voice trembling slightly. "We’ve always found a way before, and we’ll find one now. Please, chérie. I can’t lose you."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, leaning down to press your forehead against his. "You won’t lose me," you promised, though you knew the words might be hollow. "I’ll come back to you, I swear."

Remy closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he tried to believe you, tried to hold on to the sliver of hope that your words offered. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as if he could fuse you to him, keep you anchored in this moment.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "So much it scares me."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him as tightly as he held you. In that embrace, time seemed to stand still, the looming threat of tomorrow momentarily forgotten in the warmth of his arms.

But even as you held each other, the weight of what was to come lingered, a shadow that neither of you could fully shake.

Remy’s hands remained on your thighs, his thumbs still gently tracing circles as he held your gaze, searching for something in your eyes. His voice was soft, almost fragile, as he asked, "Do you remember what you told me that night in the cabin? When Wade, Logan, and Vanessa were there, and I was beggin’ you to leave… do you remember what you said?"

You felt your throat tighten, the memory of that night flooding back with vivid clarity. The desperation in his voice, the way he had pleaded with you to walk away, to save yourself from the chaos that surrounded you both. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you nodded slowly, the words tumbling out of you in a whisper, "In every universe, I’ll find you."

His breath hitched, and before you could say anything more, Remy surged forward, capturing your lips in a deep, desperate kiss. It was filled with all the emotions he couldn’t put into words—fear, love, longing, and the overwhelming need to hold on to you, to keep you with him.

You returned the kiss just as fervently, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if that could somehow make the world outside disappear. His lips moved against yours, speaking a silent plea, a desperate attempt to make you stay, to make you see that he couldn’t bear to lose you.

"Please," he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling with emotion. "Please don’t leave me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you."

Chapter 13:

Kangaroo control over you was absolute, but he underestimated the power of your will and the strength of your love for Remy. Even as you endured the trials he set before you, you remained determined to find a way to return to him. The hope that one day you would be reunited, that the love you shared would be a beacon through the darkness, was your guiding light.

Weeks turned into months as Kang tightened his grip on you, gradually molding you into the weapon he needed to prune timelines and eliminate events that didn't align with his grand vision. The sterile, emotionless halls of his stronghold became your world, the metallic coldness seeping into your bones as time wore on. You were no longer just you; you were a tool, a means to an end in Kang's relentless pursuit of power and control over the multiverse.

At first, you resisted with everything you had. Each time Kang commanded you to alter a timeline or erase a pivotal event, you would argue, plead, or defy him. You challenged him with questions—what right did he have to dictate the course of countless lives, to snuff out entire realities just because they didn’t fit his plans? Your defiance was met with cold indifference or, worse, twisted amusement. Kang would listen to your protests with a slight, condescending smile, as if your resistance was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, a fleeting rebellion that he knew he could crush.

And crush it he did.

Kang was patient, methodical. He knew that breaking you wouldn’t happen overnight, so he chipped away at your resolve, bit by bit. He exposed you to the horrors of unchecked timelines, showing you visions of chaotic futures where unchecked power led to devastation, where the worlds you once knew lay in ruins. He presented these visions as proof of his necessity, as if the atrocities he forced you to commit were somehow justified in the name of a greater good.

The first few times you were forced to prune a timeline, the guilt was unbearable. You would stand on the precipice of a world, staring at the people who lived there, the moments they cherished, and the futures they hoped for. You would see yourself in them—ordinary beings trying to find their place in the universe—and you would feel the weight of what you were about to do. Kang’s cold voice would echo in your mind, urging you to complete the task, to erase these lives as if they were nothing more than glitches in his grand design.

The act of pruning was excruciating, a deep violation of everything you once believed in. You would watch as entire timelines—whole realities full of people, hopes, dreams, and histories— were reduced to nothingness. The first time you pruned a timeline, you collapsed afterward, the enormity of what you had done crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You wept for those lives, for the universes that would never be, and for the person you once were, who would have fought to the death before allowing such an atrocity.

But Kang knew how to erode that person away

Chapter 14:

Remy’s voice, soft and laced with concern, pulls you back to the present. “You hungry? Thirsty? Anything you need?” His question is tentative, like he’s trying to find some way to make you comfortable again, to bring you back to this reality where you’re safe, home, and with the people who care about you.

You look at him, then at the rest of your friends standing around you, their eyes filled with a mixture of hope, worry, and love. You smile softly, trying to reassure them, even as your emotions churn inside you. “I just… I just need a minute,” you say, your voice steady but quiet.

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk toward the living room. The familiar space feels both comforting and alien, filled with memories of a life you’ve been disconnected from for so long. You sink down onto the couch, your hands gripping the fabric as if anchoring yourself to something real, something that won’t slip away.

Logan appears in the doorway, his presence a steadying force. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just walks in and takes a seat beside you, giving you the space you need to gather your thoughts. The silence between you is comfortable, a reminder that you don’t always have to fill the void with words.

“It’s okay to take your time with all this,” Logan finally says, his voice low and rough, but gentle.

He looks at you, his expression understanding, patient. “Ain’t no rush to figure it all out. You’ve been through hell.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands together as if trying to warm them. “I don’t feel like I belong here anymore,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “Not after everything I’ve done. I don’t even know where to start.”

Logan watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s always been able to see through the bullshit, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “You belong here, kid,” he says, his tone firm but not unkind. “You think you’re the only one carryin’ around guilt? You think we haven’t all done things we regret?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand, stopping you. “Let me finish,” he insists, his voice softening. “When you were gone, it messed Remy up. The first few months… hell, the first six months, he wouldn’t leave the house. He barely left your room. He was holdin’ on by a thread, waitin’ for you to come back.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of them sinking in as you picture Remy, alone, refusing to leave the space where he felt closest to you. “Then it changed,” Logan continues. “He started avoidin’ the house altogether, doin’ anything to keep busy, to keep his mind off the fact that you weren’t here. But even then… even when he started actin’ normal again, he still wasn’t the same. He was still missin’ you, every day.”

You bite your lip, the guilt gnawing at you. “But it’s not just him,” Logan adds. “Wade and Vanessa—they moved in here. Gave up their apartment. They didn’t want to leave him alone, didn’t want him to fall apart without you. They’ve all been waitin’ for you to come back, hopin’ for it. Those aren’t the actions of people who don’t have your back. They’re with you, through thick and thin, no matter what.”

You nod, swallowing hard as tears prick at your eyes. The weight of their love, their loyalty, presses down on you, making it harder to breathe. You’ve been so focused on your own guilt, your own pain, that you didn’t realize how much your absence affected them—how much they’ve been hurting too.

Logan leans back, his gaze still fixed on you. “Look, you’ve been through a lot. We all have. But that doesn’t mean you don’t belong here. This is your home. We’re your family. And if you’re feelin’ lost, we’ll help you find your way back. But you gotta let us in. Don’t push us away because you’re scared of what you’ve done. We’ve all got blood on our hands, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a chance to make things right.”

You wipe at your eyes, nodding slowly. “I don’t know how to make it right, Logan,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Logan says simply. “One step at a time. But don’t shut yourself off from us. You’re not alone anymore.”

His words sink in, and for the first time since you walked through that door, you feel a glimmer of hope, a tiny spark that maybe, just maybe, you can start to heal. You’ve been through hell, but you’ve also found your way back to the people who matter most. And they’re willing to stand by you, no matter what.

As you and Remy make your way down the hallway to your bedroom, the house feels strangely familiar yet different, like you’re seeing it through the eyes of a stranger. Everything seems both the same and completely new, as if you’ve been gone longer than just a year. The walls hold memories, echoes of conversations and laughter, but now they seem quieter, waiting for you to fill them with life again.

When you reach your bedroom door, Remy hesitates for a moment, glancing at you before opening it. The room is just as you remember it—your things exactly where you left them, your bed neatly made. But there’s something different about it now, something that makes your chest tighten with emotion.

“I’ve been sleeping here,” Remy says quietly, his voice breaking the silence. “But I’ll clean it up for you before tonight. I know you probably want some space.”

You look at him, seeing the weariness in his eyes, the weight of everything he’s been carrying since you left. He’s trying to give you the room you might need, to be respectful of whatever boundaries you might have now. But that’s not what you want. Not at all.

A small, genuine smile forms on your lips as you shake your head. “You don’t need to clean anything up, Remy. You can stay in here as long as you want.” Your words are soft, almost tentative, but the meaning behind them is clear. You’re asking him to stay with you, a silent plea that you hope he understands.

Remy’s eyes widen just a bit, a flicker of surprise passing through them before he nods, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle, almost relieved smile. He knows what you’re asking, and he’s not going to make you ask twice.

You move over to your wardrobe, intending to grab some clothes to change into. As you rummage through the hangers, your fingers brush against something soft and familiar. You pull it out and see your old SHIELD jumper, the one you haven’t worn in years. It brings a wave of nostalgia, memories of a time when things were simpler, when the world made a little more sense.

For a moment, you just stand there, holding the jumper in your hands, your mind racing with everything that’s happened since you last wore it. The pain, the loss, the unimaginable choices you had to make. But also the love, the connections that have brought you back here, to this very moment.

You close the wardrobe, holding the jumper close for a second before setting it aside with the clothes you’ve chosen. “I need a shower,” you say, your voice steady but laced with the weight of everything you’ve been through.

Remy watches you closely, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes your heart ache. He doesn’t move, just stands there, as if he’s trying to memorize this moment, trying to etch it into his memory.

“I’ve missed you,” he finally says, his voice low, almost reverent.

Those three simple words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you feel the tears welling up again. You’ve missed him too—missed everything about him. The way he looks at you, the way he’s always there, quietly offering support and love without asking for anything in return.

You nod, swallowing hard as you meet his gaze. “I’ve missed you too, Remy,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but you know he hears it. He always hears you.

There’s a silence that stretches between you, filled with all the things that don’t need to be said.

You’re both here, you’re both alive, and that’s what matters. The rest—the healing, the rebuilding—will come in time.

Finally, you turn towards the bathroom, your hand brushing against his arm as you pass by him, a silent promise that you’ll be back, that you’re not going anywhere. As you close the door behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, trying to steady yourself as you prepare to face the reality of everything that’s happened.

The water runs warm as you step into the shower, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you let yourself relax, if only for a few moments. The water washes away the grime, the tension, the pain, leaving you feeling a little lighter, a little more like yourself.

But even as you try to find peace in the simple act of washing away the past, you can’t help but think about Remy, just on the other side of the door. Waiting. Ready to pick up the pieces with you, no matter how broken they are.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to each other. One step at a time.

Remy paces the hallway outside the bathroom, his fingers drumming anxiously against his thighs as he listens to the muffled sounds coming from behind the closed door. The running water of the shower mixes with the quiet sobs, a stark reminder of all that’s been lost and all that’s been endured. He wants nothing more than to burst in there, to hold you and offer whatever comfort he can. But he knows, deep down, that you need space right now. You’ll come to him when you’re ready.

Chapter 15:

The sun dips below the horizon, the first stars begin to twinkle in the sky. The moment is serene, filled with a sense of calm that you all have longed for.

As the sky deepens into twilight, the atmosphere on the balcony shifts to one of quiet reflection.

Remy finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt into the ashtray with a soft clink. He stretches out his legs, sitting closer to you and Vanessa, the warmth of his presence a comforting anchor.

Vanessa, always perceptive, reaches out and places a hand on your arm. “It’s good to see you smiling again,” she says, her voice gentle. “We’ve all missed you.”

You smile at her, grateful for her support. “I’ve missed you all too,” you admit, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. “And I appreciate you being here, through everything.”

Wade, ever the source of levity, interjects with a playful grin. “So, what’s next on the agenda? Do we get to pick out some new adventures, or are we just going to sit around and enjoy the view?”

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “Maybe we’ll just focus on making sure this place stays as peaceful as it is now,” he suggests, his tone a mix of practicality and hope.

The conversation drifts to lighter topics, the camaraderie between you all easing the lingering tension. As you listen to the banter, you feel a renewed sense of belonging. The feeling of home, once so elusive, now wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Remy leans over and takes your hand, his fingers entwining with yours. “How about we just take it one day at a time?” he proposes, his gaze steady and filled with love. “I’ve got you back, and that’s what matters right now.” You nod, squeezing his hand gently.

“That sounds perfect.”

The evening stretches on, filled with laughter, stories, and the simple joy of being together. As the stars fully emerge and the night settles in, you feel a deep sense of contentment. The battles of the past seem a little lighter, the uncertainties of the future a little less daunting.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a warm smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, and FYI. Next time you fuck up my morning and ask me to take a random trip to the void to pull out some friends, I’ll kill you.”

Wade’s grin widens as he lounges casually, his hands behind his head. “To be fair, I think I’ve earned some brownie points for convincing you to rescue th he man who becomes the love of your life. You’re welcome.”

Remy chuckles beside you, his hand still intertwined with yours. “Yeah, Wade, you’re definitely on thin ice, but I’ll give you this—without you, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Logan nods in agreement, a rare smile on his face. “Just don’t make it a habit, Wade. We’ve had enough chaos for a while.”

Wade’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Hey, it’s all part of the grand adventure, right? Besides, it worked out, didn’t it?”

The group laughs, the tension of past events melting away under the shared camaraderie. As the ht deepens, the sense of togetherness strengthens, and you can’t help but feel a deep appreciation for the people who’ve stood by you through it all

[lxcalmenace]

hiii! I saw a video on tiktok about some girl getting upset that she wasn't there with her bf when he was kid and i thought maybe you could do that with rin isagi and hiori maybe

this is my first ask and also English's not my first language im sorry if it's not detailed enough

Wish I was there for you

Pairings < Rin and Hiori > X gn!reader (separate)

tw: Just these babies getting reminded about their pasts which later turns into fluff. Oh and, spoiler warning on Hiori's past!!

It was a rather silent night, you and Rin chilling in your bed comfortably. He was watching some match analysis on his phone while you were laying down next to him, reading your book. The small bed side lamp illuminated the room as the sound of soft breathing and the occasional sound of you turning the page was heard. When suddenly, it hit you. Rin never admitted about wanting to be comforted or to be held close during rough days, it wasn't very likely of him. He had built these walls around him, to which he'd only let you break through them. That was the typical Rin Itoshi for you. Being always there for him, to support him- but then you began to ponder about his past. You knew that his relationship with his older brother wasn't on the best terms, you know how much he despises Sae but there was also a time when Sae left Rin completely wrecked, right when Rin needed him the most. You knew how much it scarred Rin and your heart aches to think that Rin probably broke down- no one by his side to comfort him, no one to tell him that it was going to be alright. It broke him to the point that he was unwilling to trust, eventually pushing everyone away due to all of the burden he was carrying silently.

You turned over to face Rin and softly called out his name. Turning of his phone, he put it aside- his attention all on you now.

"Rin, do you ever wish if someone would've been there for you in your past?" he raised an eyebrow as you continued, "It hurts to know about how much you had to go through. I really wish I could've been there for you; to comfort you and to ease your suffering, even just by a little bit."

The room went silent, knowing that you had stuck a chord somewhere inside Rin. His face showed no emotions, but he was unable to meet your gaze. You both sat in this silence for a while, no words uttered.

Finally, he let out a long breath, "It's alright," His voice was low yet stern, "Past is past now, it does not matter to me anymore. The only thing that matters now is me defeating Sae."

You opened your mouth to say something, but Rin shushed you, signaling the end of conversation. You wanted to tell him that it was unfair, that he didn't had to go through all that, but sensing the tension in the air, you decided to stay silent. If Rin wasn't ready to talk about it, then you were in no position to argue back. You plopped back on your bed with a sigh as he dimmed the lights and pulled the covers over the both of you.

Maybe not yet, but one day, Rin knows that he will open up to you freely, talk about his problems, rant to you. But for now, he did not wish to bother you by his own problems. So, he simply just pulled you closer and kissed your forehead.

"Goodnight my love," Rin pecked your lips, "Thank you for everything you have done for me," he whispered.

It was raining outside. The small pitter patter against the windows and the distant voices from the TV, accompanied by you cuddling with your boyfriend on the couch gave birth to the perfect atmosphere. Hiori was playing video games while you were scrolling through tiktok. Everything was going well, until you came across a video of a girl being upset over the fact that she couldn't be there for her boyfriend when he was young. And that, made you put down your phone and really think about it. Your boyfriend always had a smile etched over his face, he barely talked about his feelings and thus suppressing them over time. Eventually after you both started dating, you always encouraged him to talk about his problems and regularly let him know that you were there for him. But what about the time when you weren't so present in his life? You remembered him telling you about his parents once; how they used to put him under so much pressure to achieve perfection, even stretching up to the point of divorce. Oh, how hard it must've been for his little soul. [ :( ]

You were unsure about bringing this up. Yet, hesitatingly you whispered, "Baby, can we talk a little?"

His curious blue eyes met yours and he muttered a little 'yeah?', waiting for you to continue.

"You know how your parents always pressured you to be the best, to live up to their expectations- wasn't it hard for you as a child? I mean it must be so traumatic for you to always be under the burden," you paused, watching his expressions carefully.

"Yeah, it was a bit traumatic I guess.." he trailed off.

"Really wish I would've been there for you, Yo. I would've definitely helped you to relieve some of the burden, so you could've leaned a bit on me," you look at him with a glint of sadness in your eyes.

Hiori noticed the shift in your mood instantly, "But angel, I didn't even knew ya back then," he chuckled- trying to lift up the mood.

"I know! I'm just sa-"

He pulled you in for a kiss, cutting you out.

"You don't have to worry about the past m'kay?" he smiled warmly, "You're here now and that's enough f'me. You understood?"

Hiori slinged an arm around you and pulled you closer; capturing you in his embrace, as he resumed his game and continued playing it.

Tysm anon for this request, I hope you like these small scenarios. I couldn't do Isagi :( (writer's block sucks)

Also, so sorry if this is ooc!! Not proofread so ignore if there are any mistakes please!

ty for reading!!

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[butterflieswhisper]

hhelp wait this is so funny. didnt you follow me forever ago after a scott themed october song analysis . sorry if you dont remember that and this ask doesnt make sense but this is still funny to me

hi!!!! yeah. it was the cherri crane lives art i think and also where you made your flower husbands tag! I have never really interacted with fh outside of you (and like, seeing pretty fanart) but i am nonetheless deeply invested in your interpretation specifically!!! I honestly haven't watched jimmy outside of rats and the beginning of empires2 either i genuinely have no clue what they get up to you just seem to have a lot of fun with it

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HI HI MAC. I JUST WATCHED THE NEW GEMINI VIDEO (was going 2 watch it this morning but i forgor 💀) HOLYYYY SHIT i am so creeped out EAUGH it was so good. creepy faces fuck me up AUGHHH. many thoughts head full. also i apparently love drawing characters as teru vash plush bc i started drawing teru vash and then realized oh iam just. drawing patton. so then i drew el woowoo 2 keep him company!! holds out my hands and places these guys in ur palm <3

OH FUCK LITTLE GUYS...... ohbtheyre so perfect. squeezing them like stress balls. <3333

UGH THE GEMINI HOME VIDEO. GOD. I KNOW. i rewatched it like 3 times this morning. that bit after it says the deal is broken with the body that gets progressively more shriveled up made me feel soooo fucking crawly. also the comeback of the jack dialogue. fuck yes. jack do you see me... i have become something else... im still in here dont leave me you bastards..... god that bit was so cool. the face jn the window at the end was what absolutely broke me last night tho like holy fuck thay shit gets me so bad

[jedi-bird]

Unpacked the ornaments today and started laughing over this. He looks like a relative of Gritty. My mom bought him to represent my first christmas and over the years he's gotten crushed because she didn't do a great job of packing things up; I inherited some of her things after she died and kept even less, so digging to the bottom of the box today yielded the best laugh I've had in a while. He is now proudly on display dead center on the tree, close to Blue and Beta, and staring wildly into the room.

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[sanjisblackasswife]

JJK Men with a GF with a Fat Ass (NSFW-ISH)

…I’m taking a small break from drawing and I missed doing HCs. Shaddap.

Ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso

Black ! Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Twt Links!, mentions of sex, men are a bit OOC

Gojo

Gojo definitely does this to you anytime you lay on his lap. And if he finds out you’re not wearing any panties under it…welp..all plans are now cancelled

He’s a pervert and it’s your fault.

He’s never really seen women of your stature often so when you both were younger he was so BLUNT with his thoughts about your body.

“You have a very voluptuous—“

“Imma stop you right there….VO-WHO?”

“You don’t know what the word vo—-“

“No, I know. I’m confused as to why you are using that word when talking about my ass.”

Gojo is 6’6-7” , he’s a big nigga, but can he handle a big behind?

No.

No he cannot.

He constantly uses his blindfolded eyes to shamelessly watch the way your walk across the room in public. His poker face is actually impressive, but if you couldn’t see how tight his fist were in his pockets it’d prove otherwise.

He’s so got damn childish he does this shit sometimes because he thinks your ass is perfect for playing on

“CAN YOU STOP.”

“Whhhyyyyuuuhhhhhh.”

When you wear moomoo’s or a big shirt it is his favorite

Yup.

Moomoo.

Your ass is free to move and shake to its desire and he just watches in awe. He loves you bad.

Another thing he loves doing is napping on your butt, he doesn’t sleep often, unfortunately, but he can attest that the best nap he has ever taken was in between your plush thighs and ass.

He blames his pretty little girlfriend as to why he is now an ass man when he initially was a boob guy.

Geto

He takes these kinda pictures with you which sometimes leads to him pulling down your underpants and massaging it with his bare hands to then licking or kissing it to then…eating…you…out…while you’re standing.

He loves watching you put on clothes.

Having to shake, jump, and wiggle yourself into some pants is actually so sexy to him.

If your butt is anything like mine and is HEAVY. He LOVES it even more , watching the way the movement in your butt and thighs to match is something Geto finds so so mesmerizing.

One thing about Geto he’s very sneaky, he’ll come up behind you to help pull up your bottoms you clearly need no help putting on, and everytime he does you can feel a slight pressure on your ass that is a verrrryyy familiar feel to a bulge.

He can’t help it, your ass is so pretty.

Sitting on his lap is a must, whether he is talking with someone in public or doing some work he needs to feel your weight on him.

The first time you sat on his lap you swore you heard a groan. When you turned to ask him if he was okay, his cheeks were very pink.

He denies it to this day, but even if he did it’s your fault because why does your ass feel so good against his pelvis?

Showers with Geto are so insufferable in the best way because once you finish cleaning yourself your long haired boyfriend can’t wait to practically grind and hump against you into the cool shower wall.

He definitely loves hugging you from behind, swaying you back and forth. To others it’s a cute gesture seeing such a big man hold you so close, practically dwarfing you , only you and him know the real intention behind it was just him whispering how good you look in that dress and how badly he wants you.

Geto is such a sensual person next to nanami. Even after sex and you’re laying with him in a bliss he finds his way to continue his love by kissing and licking you down and praises of how beautiful and sexy you are even after such activities. He calls it “Cleaning you up”…little perv.

“‘Was wrong?… Embarrassed?”

“YES.”

“Good, now c’mere.”

Toji

Ass eater.🫵🏾

That’s an ass eater he eat ass🫵🏾.

Toji “Ass Eater” Fushiguro

You thought gojo was shameless? Toji is WORSE

As an ass connoisseur he prides himself on always reminding you how fine you are to him.

“You like my dress?”

“Hell yes, mama. Turn around for me.”

SWAT to the ass just to see it recoil

He definitely slaps and GRABS. It’s kinda hot though because he’ll do it anytime anywhere

For example you went with him to some horse racing game for him to make bets and got hungry so you headed to grab a few drinks and snacks. Before walking past him, his legs were spread, tooth pick in his mouth and just like clock work you feel a firm hit to your Jean covered behind.

“OOWWUH!”

“Sssh, Baby im watchin the game….what? Your ass was all in my face what else could I do?”

Whether you are a chunky girl or a skinny girl with a larger butt he don’t care he quite actually is your biggest fan.

Toji is your new seat btw.

Not just his pretty face but his lap too.

He’s a big strong man so don’t EVER think or assume you’re too heavy for him. It ACTUALLY wounds his ego more than you think.

Of course Toji being the ass eater he is almost every other night is spent just like this or sitting on his face. He never seen himself as a pleasure dom kinda guy. With his one night stands he only had sex for himself, but with you of course being the first woman he finally got to love after MamaGuro he takes his time with you. It’s a slutty sight but he knows it’s exactly what can get you off before him

Nanami

This man here.

A KING.

Freaky king but a king none the less.

He loves every part of you.

Which is what he does say and prove everytime you both are together but he does have a small little quirk about him that you aren’t sure whether or not to point it out in fear he may stop out of embarrassment or awareness.

Most men guide their woman by putting their hand on their lower back

Nanami however does this

ESPECIALLY on date night.

Just like Geto he loves to watch you dress, but also dresses you himself

“Wear this, yes? It compliments your skin beautifully.”

“You sure it’s not, because it’s a bit tighter below the waist?”

And now hes blushing.

He’ll admit. Whenever you come and visit him during lunch to feed him a home cooked meal he hates to see you go but LOVES to watch you leave.

Especially with that sundress you wear during the spring.

Nanami definitely is another man that will practically BEG for you to sit on his face.

“It’s okay, baby, honest. Use my face.”

“Kentoooo—!??”

One of his favorite ways to eat you out is like this. It was actually so embarrassing for you at first only because of his SLUTTY MOANS. Which was something you wouldn’t expect from a man like him, but you wasn’t complaining!He whined and whimpered so shamelessly inside you, you couldn’t even make eyes contact after cumming on his tongue.

Choso

Lord bless him.

He is very….confused to say the least.

He never understood the attraction of women’s parts.

Of course he found YOU attractive, but that was all over until he seen your shape.

“Oh.”

“…oh?”

“You—“

You usually wore baggy clothing like him. You decided to change really quickly at his new apartment and he was watching you.

Who knew you had a BODY LIKE THAT under all of those clothes!

“You’re sex—cute…”

Choso isn’t necessarily a shy man, but more hesitant when it comes to touching and complimenting you…

You’ve told him time and time again he is free to touch you when he wants but you sometimes have to guide him.

Usually when he wants to grab your ass he walks DANGEROUSLY close behind you.

So a few times you take his hand and place it on your cheek. For a moment he just rubs his hand across the soft skin and then SQUEEZE.

Choso loves to kneed and rub on your ass while he licks you so usually it’s 69 or you laid to your side.

Another things he actually loves seeing you in are sweats with a small top. Your lower body being heavier than the top is so attractive and you look so squeezable he can’t help but to hug you from behind

Please. Please PUH LEASE wear thigh high socks around him the ones that go RIGHT UNDER the cup of your ass and shake it JUST A LIL in front of him.

Moans at the sight everytime

No like literally MOANS by just looking at your ass jiggle.

He doesn’t think he’s a pervert but from how he grinds and hump against your ass while you sleep says otherwise.

If yall are wondering why I didn’t really speak on backshots it js because ALL OF THEM GO FERAL DOING IT.

[mccromy]

Thinking of Luo Bingge trying to seduce a nice Shizun for himself and failing miserably.

LBG, used to women throwing themselves at his feet just by being in their proximity, utterly confused as SY won't also fall to his knees and beg to be ravished. He doesn't even have a LBH of his own, LBG checked!!!

SY thinks he's handsome and charming and sooo cool, but also LBG will surely kill him if he steps out of line :) no thanks :). And as he finds himself being subjected to over the top courtship attempts, he thinks LBG must want something from him. info? Treasures? No need for this charade, Junshang, you just need to ask!

One time, they get sex pollened and LBG is like "finally! Now he'll beg me to help him with my magical Heavenly demon cum" and SY will just stab himself until the pain and adrenaline overwhelm the horniness and he bleeds out the poison because 1) he's straight! And more importantly "I would never put Luo Binghe in a situation in which he doesn't have the choice to say no!"

LBG is stumped, heals him quickly with his magical Heavenly demon blood, and remains in a state of shock for a week. Also, for some reason he can't stand the sight of Qin Wanyue anymore.

When he does finally pull that bad bitch, he doesn't get rid of his harem (love alone can't heal this man. He also craves the attention as he craves air) and SY understands it. He had his moment, now is time to vanish into the harem and stay the fuck away from Harem politics.

LBG goes to check his new husband, it's been a week since they had some time together, longer since their wedding night, and the sense of accomplishment remains. (Take that Inferior Luo Binghe! Superior Luo Binghe had bitches AND a nice Shizun!) And tries to seduce him into bed, but SY being SY needs to do a little song and dance before getting plowed and LBG has no clue what's going on.

Why won't he say yes immediately?? What do you mean with "aiyah... I'm a bit occupied"??? You're?? My husband??? Open your legs??? Oh! You need to be seduced more?? Alright, I'll do it.

And he tries to tempt him like he does all his wives, bedroom eyes and a deep voice and soft touches and. It. Won't. Fucking. work.

SY doesn't want coaxing! He doesn't know what he actually wants but for some reason this is not doing anything for him (he wants tears and pouts, something that LBG is too prideful to even think about trying).

After a few more attempts Shen Yuan feels his pussy dry out of frustration and goes:

"You know what, Binghe? Just go ask another wife, I'm not in the mood now." And LBG is like,

"Ah my dear husband is jealous, no need, you, exclusively, may have this lord for the night."

And SY is like, offended, because he is actually a bit jealous but how does LBG dare say that out loud?? How insensitive!! Spare this old man some face!! To be a man jealous of those flowers perfuming your garden is so humiliating!! And SY, petty bitch that he is, raises an eyebrow and says, "Perhaps my lord should visit lady (name of wife #78) she has been more neglected than this husband, so she needs our Lord more than I."

LBG gets forceful in his frustration because he wants DICK and HOLE, not HOLE and HOLE! and SY palm strikes him and sends LBG flying. LBG shakes off the dust and stomps fuming towards wife #78's room. Then, unsatisfied, goes to visit five more wives until the sun rises.

After that SY gets snappish and cold and poor LBG is SO triggered.

SY: *glares at him over his fan*

LBG: this reminds me of something that I do NOT want to think about. No, sir. Don't like how it feels.

What did he do?? Why do even the nice Shizuns reject him?? Is there actually something wrong with him??? No. No, it can be.

He'll show his husband! He's rejecting him, hm? LBG will reject him back!! He'll ignore him!!! See how he likes it! Hmph!! He'll come crawling back.

He doesn't. Shen Yuan takes this as a sign Luo Bingge can't be satisfied by a man and, hurt and angry, just lets him.

And Shen Yuan becomes quite the unfavored "wife" and thus a victim of Harem plotting, and he asks to be sent to another residence, much to Luo Bingge's ire. His request gets denied, and SY, feeling like an unwanted pet whose owner refuses to give away out of a sense of ownership, turns even colder towards Luo Bingge.

LBG is a fucking mess. He tries to make SY jealous, let's himself get caught balls deep in the wife of the week by SY. Flaunts his favoritism for others and makes SY watch. But SY doesn't show any reaction to any of it. And when he does, it's just disappointment.

But he's not disappointed that he isn't the one sitting on LBG's lap (something clear in some other wives faces, who stare at the chosen wife resentfully) he's disappointed in Luo Bingge.

And Luo Bingge can tell the difference.

(Sometimes, Shen Yuan thinks, what's cool in fiction is just... Sad and hurtful in real life.)

Luo Bingge does a 180 and now tries to seduce him by courting him like he did before getting married. But Shen Yuan, unlike the other wives, doesn't just forget and forgive the shit Luo Binghe pulled before. He's not snappish, but quiet, still disappointed, sad. He seems to have fallen out of love. And no matter what Luo Bingge does he can't make him fall in love again.

He's tried everything, no matter what he does he just can't close the breach between them.

Luo Bingge just can't win with this man.

And Shen Yuan has not fallen out of love, he's just realized how petty and sad his husband is. And he doesn't know how to reach him, how to help him. LBG thinks they're playing cat and mouse and doesn't realize he actually hurt SY. And when he finally apologizes, SY remarks that he's apologizing that SY was so hurt over LBG's treatment, and not for giving him said treatment. LBG can't understand the difference.

And SY knows him, knows him better than LBG will ever know. And he says he forgives him, but LBG can't tell if he means it or not.

SY does mean it. Because he understands why LBG did what he did, and although it was not right, LBG didn't know any better now, did he? SY won't take this peace of mind away from him just because LBG didn't meet his expectations.

He's not angry, he just feels pity.

Things become amicable once again, but LBG can tell things have not been swept under the rug. Yet SY is just as sweet as he used to be, but there's something different.

SY's touch is no longer reverent nor feverish, but careful. As if LBG is fragile, and LBG both hates and is addicted to it.

LBG can't read him, can't understand him. So he assumes that SY is planning to betray him and is feeling guilty. Ah, his husband allied himself with someone else while LBG and him were at odds? Perhaps? And now he regrets it? No matter, it has happened before with (name of wives #23, #190 and #304) he can take whatever comes.

Nothing happens.

It's driving LBG crazy.

So he tries to force SY to confess, he engineers a kidnapping or something to force him to sell LBG away to his enemies. To spill a secret, anything! In the end things get out of hand and whoever LBG hired turns against him.

SY realizes what's happening mid kidnap and groans. WHY. WHY DEAR HUSBAND? THIS IS SO TRITE?? He told him he wasn't mad!! Is he really trying to gotcha! Him?? Unbelievable.

Many things happen after that.

SY is forced to drink poison that makes his spiritual energy lethal to demons. And LBG'S human cultivation is sealed, so only his demon side is active. The thing is, the poison can eventually kill whoever drinks it if they don't pass it away, even if they're human, the corrosion turns on them. LBG tries to take the tainted spiritual energy for himself. But SY absorbs it, willing it to kill him quicker, not taking any chances. And calls LBG silly and rash, and LBG realizes SY knows they're in this situation because of him. And bursts out crying.

SY kisses him, tells him he forgives him, and he better believe him this time, huh?

SY dies.

LBG tries to revive him in the holy mausoleum but every time the soul enters SY's body the poison kills him again. The poison kills LBG'S blood mites, too. It has fused with Shen Yuan's cells, a product of him absorbing it, and now his body is unable to live longer than what it takes for Shen Yuan to take a first and last breath.

LBG traps SY's soul inside a locket and carries him everywhere. Touches it constantly to make sure it was there. The gesture both familiar and confusing until he remembers he once had a mother who'd gifted him a pendant that he lost many, many decades ago.

How could he have forgotten it?

After years of desperation, he reads about the sun-moon dew mushroom. And when he goes searching for it, he realizes the realm merger killed off all the sun-moon dew mushroom seeds.

He crumbles.

And only then he finally understands his husband and why their marriage never worked.

Because LBG didn't actually love SY. He was possessive of him, yes, attracted to him. But he did not love him, he just used him to prove that other Luo Binghe he could have it all, an empire, an harem, and a Shen Qingqiu. (Shen Yuan, his name was Shen Yuan. He hated it when Luo Binghe called him Shizun, why did he keep insisting?)

Luo Bingge never loved Shen Yuan.

But Shen Yuan did love him.

He saw him for the beast he was and took him into his arms. Luo Bingge never had to prove himself to Shen Yuan, and no matter how he tried to hide the most shameful parts of him, Shen Yuan could see them clear as day, and loved him all the same.

He held Luo Bingge's flaws like something fragile, he protected them.

He didn't hold them over his head, like Luo Bingge would've done.

He didn't love him in spite of them, like his wives did.

Shen Yuan looked at the cruelest man in the world and, even after being subjected to Luo Bingge's cruelty, kept him close to his heart so the world didn't have the opportunity to make him crueler.

And Luo Bingge killed him.

And in that moment, when he finally was able to under his husband, Luo Bingge falls in love with Shen Yuan.

He came back to his palace and locked himself in his late husband's rooms, became mournful, lost interest in sex and food and bloodshed. Held that precious locket in his hands and wept.

Until one day, he began hearing Shen Yuan's voice. Faintly, as if far away. And then just as clear as if his husband whispered in his ear.

The locket had become cursed by harbouring a human soul for so long. But Shen Yuan never asked anything impossible of him, never tried to hurt him as any other cursed artifact would do.

He'd ask him to sleep, to please eat. To cook, doesn't he love to cook? Why don't you try again? He'd say, "Ah, Binghe, look up! That's a Silver Blood Hummingbird ! Oh, I thought they were extinct, isn't it beautiful?"

And Luo Bingge with only a voice for company, the love of a man he could not touch, would finally find the peace that eluded him his entire life. He'd understand that other inferior Luo Binghe, and he'd abandon his palace, leave his empire in disarray no matter how much Shen Yuan nagged at him to "take responsibility!"

He'd search for creatures and plants that went extinct after he so thoughtlessly united the realms. He'd find some, hidden away in small pockets of space, untouched by his sword. Some still thriving in hidden realms. And he'd hear as his husband excitedly tells him all there's to know about them. He'd cook and set an extra plate, let Shen Yuan guide him until he finally learned to play the guqin, an opportunity he was robbed of many years ago.

And one day, hidden from the world and greedy hands, he'd find a grove filled with thriving sun-moon dew mushrooms.