#he taught himself how to do everything you know
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modern!eddie x tipsy!reader
“Ooh, someone had fun,” he giggles from the couch while you stumble into the living room. He knew what to expect the moment he got your texts an hour ago.
omg can’’t t wait to duxk u when i home
get t ho
home*
duck*****
fuck u***
tell me they were at least good quality shots
casa
migos i
aw come on, i taught you better than that
and wine
yeah? what kind?
.rose?
rosé?
all day lol
and espresSo
martini?
😎 ya
sweetheart, did you eat at all?
yes!! we’ee getting za
we ate before
and now
done dri nking
okay, will i see you soon?
ya soon
we can sex
He laughed at that one, a hearty belly laugh. You’re only like this when you’re wasted. Clawing and snarling like a starved animal at the sight of him, the thought of him.
When you stumble in you’re lucid for the most part but your eyes are glassy with evidence of a good night. He can tell you smoked too, which means you’ll need more ibuprofen than you normally do when you drink.
You drop your purse and jacket next to the door, kicking off your heels by the TV stand. He’ll pick them up later.
“Hi baby,” he smirks coolly while you make your way to him on the couch.
“I had so much fun,” you respond, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying them off, “But I never wanna wear ‘standing jeans’ again.”
He doesn’t know what you mean by that but he doesn’t ask, just nods, welcoming you with open arms while you straddle his lap. The second your faced dips into his neck he knows your promises of ravaging him are long broken. Your body relaxes, sinking in against his chest.
“I’m glad you had a good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, hand sliding up and down your back. Your breaths come in slow, he can feel your lashes fluttering against his skin while you force yourself to stay awake.
“Would’ve been funner if you were there,” you say into the crook of his neck.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nod, “You make everything fun.”
Eddie’s heart swells, “You think?”
You lean up, looking at him with glassy eyes, more tired than wasted, “I know.”
He leans his head back between the cushions, bangs dusting his eyes, “You make everything fun for me, too.”
You grin, a sloppy one, “You know how I can make tonight really fun?”
Your fingers skate up his chest, sending a shiver through him that stirs in his sweatpants.
“Sweetheart…” he warns gently.
“C’mon,” you whine, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, “Please.”
“Doll, you’ve been drinkin’,” he reminds, reaching up to cup your cheek, “You know I don’t like playing around like that.”
“I’m not drunk though,” you protest, “I can do the drunk driver test. I swear.”
“By the way you’re falling asleep sitting up, I doubt it,” he laughs. He leans up, supporting you on his thighs while he goes in to plant a loving kiss on your lips, “I think we should head to bed.”
“Lame,” you frown, scrunching your face. You shimmy off his lap and cross your arms, walking down the hall to the bedroom.
“Kissin’ me like that like some kinda Cassanova…” you grumble. He rolls his eyes, getting some water and aspirin for you while you change into some pajamas.
“That’s what the call me. Eddie Casanova Munson,” he grizzles, leaning against the door frame with the glass and pills and hand, “Your libations, princess.”
Your sour look doesn’t fade when you take them, but you to say a quiet thank you when the pills pass your lips.
“Am I not fun anymore?” he teases.
“No, you’re still fun,” you sigh, crawling into bed where he follows. Eddie takes a silent win when you wrap yourself around him after sliding between the sheets.
“I’ll be more fun tomorrow,” he smiles, burying himself in your neck. You feel his warm scratchy chin and shiver, soft kisses following it, “It’s gonna rain.”
“That doesn’t sound very fun,” you murmur, the bed feeling cozier with every passing moment while the alcohol rushes in you for one last sleepy hurrah.
“Yeah it is,” he responds quietly, feeling you grow heavy and slack against him, “We can stay in all day.”
“Boring.”
“Boring huh?” he smirks, “I don’t know, I thought maybe we could revisit your texts.”
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Small Fry - L. Hughes
hockey masterlist || g's graduation celebration
synopsis: it's the middle of the night and you can't sleep, the only thing that can soothe it, is a late night run for chicken nuggets
word count: 709
warnings: pregnancy, cravings, fluff
It was almost 2AM, and you were wide awake, staring at the ceiling. The windows were open, letting in the soft breeze that was rolling off the lake. Surprisingly, all the boys in the house had gone to bed somewhat early, tired and exhausted after a full day of boating and wake surfing. You had called it a night around 10PM, fully preparing to sleep like the dead after having a long day, however, the growing child in your stomach had other plans.
You couldn’t sleep, your back ached and you were starving. You were at the point in your pregnancy where no matter what you did, your body ached and no matter how much you ate, you were still hungry. Whoever told you that the last trimester was full of bliss and wonder had lied to you. You had already ventured down stairs once to see if there was anything in the house that would satisfy your cravings, and you were sadly disappointed that amongst the very full fridge and pantry, not a single thing would suffice.
You considered waking Luke, but you were hoping that the baby in your belly would stop kicking and you would just go back to sleep. He hadn’t moved a single inch despite your huffing, puffing and moving. But the curl haired boy next to you remained sprawled out, his lips parted as soft snores left his mouth. He looked peaceful with the slightest bit of a sunburn across his cheeks.
You hated how he could just sleep so peacefully while you were being used as a personal punching bag.
You huffed again, adjusting and sitting up higher in bed, crossing your arms over your growing belly.
Luke must’ve sensed your unease, as he rolled over, slinging his arm over your belly, “Sleep,” he mumbled.
"Can't," You sighed, and ran your hands through his curls.
"What's wrong?" Luke was now waking up, and looked up at you with his big blue eyes, "Baby okay?"
"No. I'm hungry, and fat," You said, and Luke sat up, looking at you, "I want nuggets."
"How did I guess," He smiled, and leaned up to kiss you. He pushed back the covers, and rolled out of bed. His pajama pants were slung low on his hips, and he grabbed a sweatshirt from the ground. He walked over to you, helping you out of bed and pulled you up, "Come on, mama. Let's go find you nuggets."
You were thankful that the McDonalds by the lake house was open 24-hours, and so was Luke. Mood swings hadn't been easy on you or him, and he was worried that if he got there and they were closed, it could be a long ride back home. Luke ended up ordering himself something too, and drove back to the lake house. He grabbed the bag of food as you waddled your way down to the dock, the moon high in the sky lighting the way.
The warm Michigan air felt good, as you happily ate away at your nuggets. You and Luke talked about names again, throwing around both girls and boys names since you had decided against knowing the gender.
"Luke," You asked your boyfriend, and he looked at you, "Can I have your fries? Don’t judge me, the baby’s hungry."
"The baby, huh?" Luke smirked, and handed you his fries, "What about. . . Arthur for a boy?"
"Like that bald rabbit from the kids show?"
"Okay guess that's a no. . . Thomas?"
"I like Thomas. For a girl, I still like Eleanor."
Luke smiled softly to himself, he liked the name too. In the back of his mind, he always wanted to name his child after his parents. They had given him everything, they had taught him the game of hockey, drove him all over for the sport and stood by his side during the good times and bad. His only fear was not being half the parent that they were. But as you told him over and over, as long as their child was happy, healthy and taken care of, they were doing their job correctly.
And a couple months later when their baby girl, Luke knew right away that there was no better name than Caroline Eleanor Hughes.
note: hi, yes, welcome to my hockey blog :) requests are open! and I hope to have a masterlist outline posted soon!
#Luke hughes imagine#Luke hughes fan fic#Luke Hughes fan fiction#Luke hughes x reader#Luke hughes blurb#Luke hughes fic#lh43#hockey imagine
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i don't blame anyone for not knowing that Thistle was Literally Trafficked and that Freinag's advisors bought him and presented him as a gift because Freinag threw a baby tantrum because he wanted an elven servant as a living conversation piece, and that from the very beginning Thistle's purpose in the Melini court was "cute exotic pet for Freinag to show off"
because it's all in supplemental material. because the only person in the comic who knows this for sure is Thistle.
we can't completely assume that what Yaad tells Laios and co is 100% of what he's been told by Delgal, and that he isn't leaving things out or massaging the story into a convenient shape to position Thistle as an antagonist who must be stopped, because he's certainly canny enough to do that
but i think we can pretty comfortably imagine that it could be everything Yaad knows, and that if it's not, it's still probably pretty close to the story Delgal has told him. and it's fairly clear that Delgal has presented things in a certain light, characterized Thistle in a certain way, and from there we have to wonder: how much of that is on purpose?
certainly some of it is, because Delgal is very avoidant and the actual truth of the matter is that he shares a significant portion of the blame here, but all of it? i could very easily see Delgal not knowing that his father bought and owns Thistle. from his perspective, Thistle's just been there since before he was born and was a constant and loving companion - and confidante and caretaker - throughout his life.
so if Delgal doesn't know, then how could Yaad? and how could anyone else know if Thistle isn't going to tell them, and why would he?
the comic about how Thistle came to court and the elf cake comic are, i think, two of the most crucial pieces to understanding Thistle, because when you take them together, what you get is:
Thistle was abandoned at birth. between his birth and when Freinag's advisors bought him, someone raised him, fed him, clothed him, taught him to speak, and taught him how to play a couple of instruments well enough that he could entertain a king. whoever did that then - after twenty-odd years of being the closest thing he had to a family following the separation from his birth parent, something which he wouldn't be able to consciously remember but which would nonetheless have left him with a visceral and entirely subconscious belief that He Can Be Abandoned At Any Time And If That Happens He Will Die, because that's what happens to babies that are left alone - sold him.
so by the time he was the human equivalent of 5 or 6, he'd been taught that nothing is permanent, no one loves him enough to keep him, he will be abandoned, and that ultimately he is both a commodity and a curiosity, and any hope of having a home or being cared for depends on pleasing whoever owns him.
to make matters worse, Freinag didn't even like him at first. he scowled and sulked and the advisors, over Thistle's head, told Freinag that they needed to make sure he was harmless, that he was a perfectly impressive status symbol, and to just make sure he didn't get too attached. and Freinag proceeded to sulk for at least a couple of days (two different outfits on Thistle) before deciding he liked him.
Thistle didn't even have a name when he was bought. what did he spend the last 20-odd years of his life being called? how long did it take for Freinag to warm up enough to give him the cat-you-found-in-a-dumpster-ass name he ended up giving him?
no fucking wonder he latched onto the Melinis as hard as he did. no wonder he was so obsessively devoted to Delgal, the closest thing he had to a friend or someone who treated him as an equal. he was abandoned, bought and sold as a status symbol, told quite explicitly that he would only be tolerated as long as he was harmless and entertaining, and loved like a pet until Freinag had a real son.
no wonder he was so eager to prove himself. no wonder he would have done anything Delgal said. no wonder that he rewrote reality itself to try to keep Delgal safe and happy. no wonder he's so scared all the time - he has to have been scared his whole life, desperate to belong and horribly aware of just how easily he could be discarded, starving for love to fill the gaping primal wound in him from the kind of abandonment he experienced.
no wonder his idea of love is to keep people smothered and trapped, like birds in a cage. that's the only kind of love anyone ever showed him.
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Michael Gavey SFW Alphabet
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Acts of service and quality time. Michael isn't naturally a touchy feely kind of person, so will show he cares by bringing snacks and hanging out with his partner. He has felt like an unwanted outcast all of his life, so these small acts would be his declaration of "this is my person".
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
Michael doesn't make friends easily, social skills aren't something that comes naturally to him. He will befriend people that he considers to be similar to him, and can come off as quite intense in the early stages.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Cuddles would be quite awkward at first, as he's not used to physical contact, but he'd grow to love them. He's not the all-encompassing, every limb wrapped around each other type of cuddler, but is never more content than when his partner has their head resting on his shoulder with his arm around them, while they read or watch TV.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Is naturally neat and orderly, but cannot cook to save his life. It would be a case of his partner doing the cooking and he does the washing up afterwards. He does want to settle down though, knowing he has someone who isn't going to leave would make him incredibly happy.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
Michael doesn't let go easily, so a break up would be messy. There'd be angry words and tears from both sides. A real mess with no possibility of remaining friends afterwards.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
If the relationship makes it to the one year mark, his partner can absolutely expect a proposal. In his mind, he has found the one, so he wants to seal the deal as quickly as possible.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Emotionally he's incredibly insensitive. He'd need to be taught what not to do. Physically, he's gentle to the point of being too soft, but that comes from nerves and a lack of experience.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
Hugs aren't something that comes naturally to him, but as the relationship develops he grows to enjoy hugs as a means of greeting.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
His partner has to be the one to say it first, then he'll say it back. He's not comfortable putting himself out there, in case he's rejected.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
Extremely prone to visits from the green eyed monster. His biggest fear is abandonment, so every person is potentially someone you'll leave him for. This lessens as the relationship develops and he feels more secure.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
His kisses are awkward at first, he's not experienced. As time goes on, he gets more comfortable and his favourite thing to do is brush his lips against his partner's temple or hairline when they're engrossed in a book or concentrating on something else.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
Incredibly uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to talk to children.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
Michael's an early riser. He'll make a tea for himself and his partner, and leave theirs on their bedside table. He reads until they get up.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
He falls asleep early. Usually nods off while watching something.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
He is a chronic oversharer, simply because he doesn't understand social dynamics.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
He is quick to lose his temper, but it's short lived and he calms down quickly, often seeming embarrassed afterwards.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
He remembers every little detail, no matter how inconsequential.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
The first time his partner held his hand in public. The fact that they weren't ashamed to be with him meant the world to him.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
He's not protective in the sense that he would get into a physical altercation for his partner, but he's protective in the sense that he makes sure they do what's best for themselves in every aspect of their lives.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
He makes a big effort, simply because his partner means the world to him.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
Speaking without thinking, eating junk food instead of proper meals, arrogance.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
Not in the slightest.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
He would be crushed if he suddenly found himself without his partner.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
His favourite idea of a date is taking his partner to a museum, and giving them their very own tour, because he'll have looked up and memorised all of the facts regarding the featured pieces beforehand.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
Stupidity is a huge turn off for him. Also conformity to the "norm" - he wants someone that has a mind of their own.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
He goes to bed early and gets up early.
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Say Don’t Go | 911 7x10 spec
Based on the stills and my brain not shutting up
“I hate you!”
Christopher’s voice resonates through the hallway until his door slamming cuts it off. Eddie flinches and Buck’s heart breaks.
“Chris-“
Eddie moves half a step forward and Buck stops him by the shoulder before he can go after his son. It’s not going to help. If he knows anything about angry teenagers (having been one particularly angry himself) is that Chris needs a moment away from his dad.
The problem are those big brown eyes. Because when Eddie looks back at him, so lost and heartbroken and desperate, Buck knows he has to do something. Because this is wrong, it’s just wrong, and Buck knows he cannot fix everything for the people he loves but he cannot —will not— stop trying no matter how impossible it feels.
“Let- let me try and talk to him,” Buck asks.
“What?”
Helena and Ramon both turn to him with equal disbelief, but Buck doesn’t even bother looking at them. They’ve been so ready to take this opportunity to rip Chris away from Eddie. And, sure, they are worried and Eddie should’ve handled this a lot better, but they aren’t even giving him the chance. So he doesn’t look at them, he keeps his eyes on Eddie who gives him the smallest, pleading, nod.
That’s all Buck needs. With one final squeeze, he lets go of Eddie and moves across the living room with long strides before the Diaz’s can stop him.
Who does he think he is? What gives him the right to intervene? How dare he even be here? Whatever they are thinking, comes second to Chris and Eddie.
Buck knocks gently on the door.
“Go away!”
“H-hey, buddy, it’s me. Can I come in?”
There’s a long terrifying pause that nearly shatters what’s left of Buck’s heart before the reluctant “okay.”
With a relieved sigh, he pushes in.
Christopher is sitting on the edge of his bed, a packed backpack by his side. For a second, Buck thinks of another day, years ago, when he found him just like this. Back then, Buck’s biggest fear was that Eddie’s heart would stop. Today, he’s terrified it will break beyond repair.
“Hey, Chris.”
“Hey, Buck,” he says, looking down at his hands.
Awkwardly, Buck makes his way to the bed and sits on the edge next to the boy. He’s so big now, older and taller, but he can still see the same child that had to comfort him after the shooting.
“Chris, are you sure about this? Leaving your dad, even if it’s just for a while… that’s not going to fix things between you.”
“I don’t want to fix them,” Chris snaps, sharply. “He lied to me! He lied to Marisol, to you, he lied to everyone!”
And that’s not something Buck can argue.
“Yeah, he- he screwed up, Chris, but you need to understand.”
“I understand! Why would he that! He’s- he always told me to tell the truth and to be good but he was a liar.”
“Hey, hey, that’s- that’s not fair. One mistake doesn’t make him a liar. He just- listen, Chris, you know your dad loves you more than anything in the whole world, right?”
He’s met with silence.
“Right?”
Chris gives a noncommittal shrug.
“Right,” Buck nods. “Because he does. And he would never, ever, do anything to hurt you.”
“But he did! It hurt! Seeing her and thinking it was her… it hurt, Buck.”
“I know, buddy… I do. I just- I meant, he would never hurt you on purpose.”
“He had to know it would hurt.”
“He did. Which is why he lied…”
Christopher huffs and Buck has the horrible feeling he’s not being as helpful as he hoped. What was he thinking? Just because he loves Chris with his whole heart it doesn’t mean he knows the first thing about being a parent. He only knows what Eddie taught him.
The memory hits home like a wave. Sunlight, a warm hand on his shoulder, his heart twisting from guilt to relief and to something bigger he couldn’t name.
“You know, your dad isn’t perfect.”
“No, he isn’t,” Chris scoffs.
“He isn’t perfect,” Buck repeats, tone pleading Chris to let him finish, “and he knows it. He told me once himself, that he’s failed many times as your dad. But he also said that he loves you enough to never give up, to never stop trying to be better… for you.”
Chris is quiet, but by the way his shoulders hunch and his head tilts, Buck thinks he might be getting to him. So he pushes on.
“And- and the thing is, Christopher, your dad is very hurt right now. It’s- it’s nothing like the time he was shot… it’s something… deeper, older. Because, you see, when Shannon- when your mom died, it really hurt your dad. He loved her so much… and I don’t think he ever healed from it, not really. I think that’s why he did all this. Because he’s in pain…”
Christopher peers at Buck from under his curly fringe, reluctantly making eye contact.
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No, it doesn’t. But- but I think your dad really needs us right now. He- he needs you,” he corrects quickly. “This time, I think your dad needs you not to give up on him.”
“But I’m still mad.”
“And- and that’s okay. You can be mad. You get to be angry or sad or confused, I just- I just hope you can fight for your dad, like he does for you. Because, Chris, if he loses you… I think the pain will be too much this time.”
Chris is quiet. And Buck is exhausted.
“I don’t wanna make you feel responsible for him, Christopher. I promise, whatever you choose, I’ll have his back and make sure he is okay. I just- I think he needs both of us right now.”
“Why are you defending him? Aren’t you mad too? He lied to you too.”
“I- yeah, he did. But he’s my best friend, and I love him. I’m not quitting on him, he’s never given up on me.”
“Hmmm.”
It takes a couple minutes before Chris decides to get back up. Buck stays only because he isn’t asked to leave and, only when he sees the boy step outside does he dare follow cautiously.
In the living room, whatever Eddie was talking in hushed tones with his parents dies down immediately. He only has eyes for his son as he approaches.
“Mijo-“
“You have to promise that it won’t happen again,” Christopher demands, voice shaky. “You need to try to do better and you have to promise that you won’t lie to me again.”
Eddie walks towards his son like he is in a dream, eyes tearful. Buck can see him trembling even from afar, where he’s found a corner to tuck himself into and disappear.
“Christopher,” Eddie says, kneeling before his son and gently holding him, “I swear- te lo juro por mi vida. I will do better. I will- I will be better for both of us. I will spend every day trying to be a better father for you.”
“Okay,” Chris says.
“Okay?”
“I’m staying.”
Eddie leans forward to hug his son, but is met with a gentle push back.
“I’m still mad at you, dad.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Of course,” Eddie mumbles, but the relief in his voice is still palpable.
Eddie looks past Chris’s shoulder and his eyes find Buck. The look in his face… Buck knows Eddie like the back of his hand but he cannot quite place what it is. Thankfulness and relief and hope… but there’s something else behind it that makes Buck’s heart twist painfully.
So Buck looks away, tries to find something —anything— else to focus on and lands on the Diaz’s faces. Eddie’s parents look at him with… well, it isn’t quite anger, but there’s a confusion there and a bewilderment that somehow makes Buck even more uncomfortable. He ducks his head and beelines for the kitchen. He should let them be alone…
“Buck!” Eddie is rushing after him before he can get to the door.
When he turns around, he finds Eddie standing there, shaking and shocked. Buck waits, but Eddie doesn’t seem to have any more idea than he does about what he planned to say next.
“Sorry, I- I should probably go.”
Eddie takes a step forward, with that look still on his face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Buck goes on. “Just- just be with your son tonight.”
“You sure? You could stay.” Eddie steps closer.
“No, it’s- it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to intrude, with your family-“
“Buck-“
“And Tommy is waiting at my place, so…”
Eddie stops. He blinks.
“Right, yeah. Of course. Just- I- Thank you.”
Buck smiles, even if the air between them still feels charged.
“I have your back, Eddie. Always.”
And before anything else can get his head spinning he steps out the back door. Only once outside does he stop and finally breathe. That was… that felt like… but it cannot be. It wasn’t. Even if Eddie looked like he wanted to-
No, of course not. Better get going, before his heart can manage to fool itself once again.
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Hello, I have been reading the books that follow after Interview with the Vampire, and I wanted to ask and comment on the character of Lestat.
Although I like the character, but
It seems to me that he is a very Mary Sue character, that causes me conflict, that personally I would like the TV series to modify that aspect of him.
Do you think changes will be made regarding how powerful and perfect he is, without taking away his power but at the same time without becoming a Mary Sue type character?
... Mary Sue?
This... Mary Sue????
I'm sorry nonny, but... let's.. recap.
Lestat calls his own accomplishment of killing the wolves a "cosmic error" in the books, he should not have managed that. He did though, and that is what wakes Magnus' interest in him.
He is raped into darkness because of the wolves and his looks. Immediately abandoned after. Yes he got powerful blood, but other vampires (including Armand for example) get that, too.
He has to discover everything by himself, fight off satanic cults and Armand who tries to force-feed on him and then tries to track down the one source he heard of who can give him reason, only to find that source and realize... there is no reason. The source, Marius, sends him away again, after he managed to wake Akasha by sheer luck.
He tries to live a mortal life with Louis and Claudia, which ends with them trying to kill him and almost succeeding. He goes after them to try to save them because he knows Armand and is afraid for them and gets locked in a dungeon and then gets used for the farce of a trial, half mad and starved. Armand throws him off a tower, breaking every bone, and making him literally crawl back to NOLA.
He lives alone, scarred, lives off of rats and other smaller things for decades. Armand tells him Louis is dead, btw, then later, when Lestat has gone to earth comes by to whine about Louis.
And that is only what is in "The Vampire Lestat", in the broadest way.
Lestat has anger and severe abandonment issues, because he was abused severely as a child. He was beaten, locked up, starved, dragged back when he tried to run away. His mother ignored him in favor of her books, which makes his relationship to her and books rather difficult. He wasn't taught to read and write, only learned so later.
He has a temper, and bursts into inappropriate laughter at times. His guilt eats him up from the inside, but he suppresses it most of the time. He is prone to depression, and tries to kill himself, and when that fails, takes to wandering alone for years at a time.
His various "power ups" leave him with body dysmorphia at times, because he hates what they do to him.
He still has PTSD from the rape into darkness in the last fucking book.
If you want to call that Mary Sue I guess I cannot stop you.
I definitely wouldn't call him that.
#Anonymous#ask nalyra#the vampire chronicles#vc#vampire chronicles#lestat de lioncourt#the brat prince#iwtv lestat#mary sue
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I’m already gone
Character: choso x m!reader, yuji x reader (PLATONIC)
Warnings: character death! SPOILERS FOR 259
A/N: This wasn’t requested, just sort little something because I love pain 😭✌️
A/N: GOJO NEXT
A/N: THE TIMELINE IS DIFFERENT TO MAKE IT FLOW BETTER.
🎵Listen to already gone by sleeping at last🎵
Growing up in the world of sorcery, you were taught that curses were evil. They were ugly and were the most vilest things on this earth, but then you met him. Choso, a hybrid between a curse and a human, and he was beautiful. He was introduced to you as yuji's half-brother. You were erie of him at first, not understanding how could a curse be good. Even if he was only half, over time, you and him grew closer. You began to see he was more human than anything. He had more humanity than most humans. His soul and everything about him were beautiful l, even during the moments he didn't feel beautiful. Those moments were he cried into your chest, that he was a monster. You never understood how he could think that. The love that he showed you and his brothers was love that monsters couldn't possess.
He was the best thing to ever happen to you. He was kind and gentle to those he loved. He cherished and projected y'all like his life depended on it.
You were currently out of fighting during an injury. Choso told you not to stay awake waiting for him to return, but you never listened anyway. It always ends with him coming home to you asleep on the couch. This night was no different. One moment, you were lying there watching the tv, and then the next, you were asleep. It was a beautiful, peaceful dream. You and choso were at the beach enjoying the waves and the sun. It was empty there as if it were only you and him on the earth. No other soul, no curses, no fighting just each other
He was chasing you around the beach, the sound of yours and his laughter being music to your ears. Then, all of a sudden, he stops and just stares at you. The action caused you to stop in your tracks too. You took a breather for a second before walking up to him. "Hey, what's wrong?" You brought one of your hands to his cheeks, caressing the apples of them gently. He nuzzled against your hand slightly before bringing his hand up to yours.
"Nothing is wrong, this is perfect." He smiled so gently at you. He cupped your cheeks, his hands bringing your lips to his. He kissed you so softly as if you were the most fragile piece of glass. Then he pressed his forehead against yours. " I love you," He whispered to you. "You couldn't have loved me better, thank you." He pressed longing kissed on your head.
You let out a little giggle, "There's no need to thank me, silly." His arms rested around you and slowly caressed you back
“I know, I just wanted to also so you don’t forget.” You could hear his voice break a little bit
“Cho don’t get sad on me baby, we’re happy and plus you’ll be back soon and we can do nothing but be with each other” He nodded his head at your words. You quickly escaped from his grasp and started running. “Now come get me lover boy”You yelled back, it caused he to start chasing after you full force.
You were awakened from your slumber by a knock at the door. It was yuji. He looked distressed, and he was crying. "Hey, are you okay." He quickly shook his head, and his lips started quiver. You quickly brought him into a hug not rushing him to get his words. He was sobbing into your shoulder. You could barely make out the words he was saying, but then you heard a broken "I'm sorry" and "choso"
"What?" The world felt like it stopped spinning and had begun to crumble around you. Your chest felt heavy, it felt like you could get air into your lungs. You pulled away from the crying boy and walked slowly to the couch you were previously sleeping on. He followed you in and set on the couch with you. You deep breaths, trying to keep your composure.
"I'm sorry, he sacrificed himself for me. I didn't know he was going to do that. Everyone keeps dying around me, and I can't do anything to stop it. It's all my fault." He barely gotten through his words with the hiccups and the crying. You gently pushed his head onto your shoulder.
"It's not your fault yuji. Choso was selfless, he would do that thousands and thousands of times again even if he knew the outcome. Which he did, and that's why he did it." Your voice was breaking and cracking, but you just gave him a soft smile trying to comfort the young boy.
Eventually, exhaustion hit yujiand he slept on your couch. You laid alone in the quiet room, the only noise were your wails. The pillows that still smelt like choso were soaked with your tears as you held it tightly to your body.
"Wake up, you have to wake up. This is just a nightmare, you'll wake up." You spoke to yourself in between your wails of sorrow and pain. In reality, you knew the truth. This is reality and he was truly gone. He will always be gone
I ADDED YUJI AND READER COMFORTING EACH BECAUSE THAT POOR BOY NEVER HAS TIME TO GREIVE AND HE DESERVES SOME AND COMFORT
BYE Y'ALL ✌️😭, I HATE YOU GEGE
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x male reader#male reader#choso#jjk#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk x reader#choso x male reader#jjk choso#x reader
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Just a short interlude before tonight's episode...
Before the Ashes Hit the Ground
(AO3 and below the cut. T, 790 words)
“I'm impressed,” says Tommy, and the glow dawning in Evan's eyes at these words outshines the soft lighting in the kitchen.
He’s enchanting, he doesn’t even know how much.
“It's Bobby's recipe.“
It seems a cloud is moving in front of the sun, if only for a second.
Tommy has taken a peculiar liking to Bobby, and it may be partly because of Evan, because of his admiration for this man who’s more like a father to him than the man who conceived him. It’s probably also because he played a big part in saving the captain, experienced him in control, even in an exceptional situation. Experienced him caring for others. Evan is like that too, and Tommy believes he's always been like that, even though he can't know for sure; but if that's Bobby's legacy, then it's in Evan, and it's beautiful. Beautiful, like Evan, who wanted to distract himself from his racing mind with cooking – another thing he got from Bobby – and his boyfriend.
Evan has a dozen emotions portrayed directly on his face, bare like an open wound. Tommy wishes nothing more than it being easy to kiss the worry away, to smooth that little wrinkle above Evan's perfect brow. He averts his eyes – only very briefly, he can't stop looking at the man – to look at his plate. Evan has set the table as if for a date, and yes, that had actually been the plan. The food looks fantastic, and even though Tommy isn't really hungry, he needs to taste it. That’s not mere politeness, it's a necessity. Evan hangs on his lips as he brings his fork to his mouth.
Tommy blinks as the taste spreads in his mouth. He's not much of a cook, long and unpredictable shifts usually lead him to grab something on the go. He's quickly learned that mindless eating is over, it's not for Evan, and if Tommy wants to be one thing, it's good for Evan.
There are so many details, so many nuances of flavor. He realizes that this is like a good blend of coffee, and he knows a thing or two about it. Tommy’s been called a coffee snob before, but he doesn’t care. Good coffee has a mild finish, a strong aroma and leaves a long-lasting, pleasant sensation in your mouth. Wrong thought at the wrong time, but that’s a bit like Evan’s kisses, actually.
This meal, however... The fork in his hand stops in mid-air, he needs to think. To taste. Not devour, no. Evan has put time, his heart and soul into this meal. This food contains the essence of things Bobby has taught him. He has seasoned it carefully, maybe even with his fear and worry. Sometimes a dish needs this hint of bitter to develop its full flavor, just like the best coffee. There’s this vague sharpness of basil, perfectly balanced with the acidity of the tomatoes in the sauce. A hint of oregano, and perhaps a whiff of red wine. Everything is harmonized. Smooth. Perfect, like Evan's blue eyes, his lips, even the shape of his birthmark.
It’s brilliant, but it’s not gourmet food, not star cuisine, and that's what makes it special. This is great, but also down-to-earth. Perfect, because this recipe contains a piece of Bobby, and now Evan. Love, above all.
Tommy swallows the bite, puts the fork aside and grabs Evan's hand.
“He's gonna be fine, Evan.”
“You don't know that.”
No, Tommy doesn't know that, and he has no interest in reciting statistics. With sudden cardiac arrest, the survival rate is 50%. Bobby may be a fighter, but from what Evan has told him and from everything he's read between the lines, the man may have lost his desire to fight.
“But he will,” he returns, almost defiantly. “However, with this food here, he can't teach you anything more.”
There's the faintest smile on Evan's mouth.
“Really? You like it?”
“I love it. Just like you, Evan.”
Tommy's heart takes a stumble. You idiot, that's way too soon. But how can it be too soon? How can it ever be too soon with what they do every day? Life is short. Short and hard, and every single moment of happiness counts.
Evan blinks. And then the sun rises again: he smiles, his whole face lights up. He looks at Tommy, and just like in this meal, everything is laid bare before him. Tommy would do anything for that smile, anything.
The phone rings.
#BuckTommy#Buck/Tommy#9-1-1 fanfiction#9-1-1#9-1-1 on abc#evan buckley#tommy kinard#tevan#firepilot#Buck x Tommy#Tommy x Buck
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Based on the vampire au, Emil and Matthias get close. This is based on a friend's idea
Rated: T | Warnings: none
There is a portrait of you in one of the gallery rooms, a large frame with smaller pictures around you. You look different, same face but your demeanor is different along with the emotionless expression; Joseph says you were not the same person as you were back then. Naib Subedar got a close taste of it when he was “hired” to fight you by both Joseph and yourself (unknowingly at the time). Norton can also recall a glimpse of the Vampire Hunter's skills but the memory is foggy due to him not being in control of himself at the time.
Matthias only has heard stories, seen you spar with Joseph or Naib Subedar, and stare at the portrait of the Hunter who fought the Vampire Lord Bloody Sword… And won.
Joseph is surprisingly humble to admit defeat, probably because of Aesop who gave an unbiased recount of the battle.
Emil also stares at the portrait but only when you are not around in the manor. You currently are with Count's Banquet, a request you did not turn down.
There is enough history between the two of you for Joseph to appear jealous of the man he once was in a relationship with before Aesop. All the others know is that the Count knew you from when you were a novice under a man named ‘Misfit’, the man who taught you everything and one you cared for deeply.
Emil is sitting under your portrait when Matthias finds him, the other vampire talking to you. The others know of Emil's separation issues, it used to cause a lot of problems given your attention and time could not be solely devoted to him. Nowadays, he still gets sad and will not sleep for days, but he also accepts he cannot latch onto you… Not the way he did with Ada.
Ada fed into Emil’s need for dependency, embraced the role of nurturer and lover, but ultimately continued the cycle of dominance over her spawn Emil. This a fact you told him when he had to hear those harsh words of reality, the nature of vampires is complex and a constant power struggle. This is built within them, it takes strength to break the cycle. Emil has only a hundred years, less time away from Ada compared to time with her… He was married to her, loved her, grateful to her, then you一 His eyes hurt from crying all night while in the gallery alone, in the darkness with only the moonlight from the opened curtain as lighting. His hand rises to block the light coming from the hall when the door is opened by… Matthias?
Matthias sees Emil sitting on the floor looking exhausted and hugging his knees; you told Emil he can trust Matthias. You told him he is safe here no matter what everyone looks out for one another. When Matthias sits beside him, Emil’s body stiffens as he is unsure what to do or say. No words are said at first, but a few shared glances before Matthias asks Emil if he has not slept yet. The other man looks over before nodding slowly but then shakes his head slowly, his eyes are swollen, and bloody tears stain his cheeks.
A vampire that does not slumber will feed more than a properly rested vampire. Emil's appetite has increased since he has not slept and he is returning to isolating himself.
When Emil speaks it often catches Matthias off guard how deep Emil's voice is, along with his height as he is an inch or two taller than Matthias. They both are attempting to converse, many moments of silence as they never truly spoke to one another and it is honestly due in part to Matthias's jealousy towards Emil.
You give Emil special attention, the attention he needs and craves, and he has immediate access to you via your bedroom. Matthias is not fond of the fact he has to share.
Matthias moves closer and then bends partly down to hold his hand toward Emil, he offers to rest with Emil in your room.
There they are lying side by side, back to back, Emil fast asleep from exhaustion. Matthias is awake as he never truly sleeps well between nightmares and whispers of the Embrace, plus he is lying in your bed with this man. The jealousy is there, the bitter feelings of Emil who has your attention… Your bodily warmth, your smile, damn sleeping in this bed with you!
Matthias grips the blanket covering him with an angry expression, and then that expression softens to disappointment. Self-deprecating thoughts as of course he cannot do something for himself.
A sigh, his eyes closed but open not even a second later he feels the bed shift multiple times, a whimper, and sharp intake of breaths. Emil is trembling, his hands ripping into the pillows, and blood tears start running down his face.
A nightmare, Matthias understands that— A number of them here understand this. Naib Subedar advised Matthias to not be too hard on Emil, he understood the jealousy though Naib Subedar has Norton.
Matthias turns around shifting closer, hand moving then stopping but ultimately he reaches out.
Emil jolts awake with heavy breathing as he feels the weight of an arm around his chest and back, head turning to see Matthias is close to him. He stares as the other man's eyes are closed.
Nothing is said but Emil turns around to be held properly by Matthias, both finding surprising comfort in one another. The nightmare does not return, the Embrace's voice is silent; a night of peace and comfort.
+
For the few weeks you are gone, this becomes the only way Emil can sleep. Matthias’ feelings shift as he is still envious yet it is not as strong as before. Some nights they talk, and sometimes Emil only listens to Matthias talk about what he is reading before bed, recently Emil has asked for him to pet while he places his head on Matthias’ chest.
Neither have beating hearts yet Emil likes to be this close to Matthias, to be able to hold and comfort each other.
“Can we,” Emil looks at the scars on Matthias' chest, “Sleep in your room next time?”
Matthias is quiet then the question is asked again, “Yes if you want.”
“Thank you.” A yawn after those words and Emil is asleep in no time.
“Seems you two are getting along.” Naib Subedar points out as Emil is following Matthias who is currently carrying around a briefcase holding the accursed puppet.
Matthias glances away.
“I'm glad you aren't alone.” The Mercenary taps the Puppeteer’s shoulder before walking past him to meet up with Frederick and Luca in the piano room, both are having a debate on music. They are loud though they are not shouting at each other, just being passionate as usual.
Emil moves next to Matthias and smiles.
Matthias stares then returns a small smile, “We should get going.”
#idv#identity v#matthias czernin#emil mesmer#idv puppeteer#idv patient#identity v patient#identity v puppeteer#identity v emil#idv matthias#identity v x reader#idv x reader#identity v x you#idv x you
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very quick sfw togame writing warm up before i tackle some wips
If there's one think Togame is good at, it's starting and ending fights. Violence is familiar to him. He was weened on it, in a way. Aggression and anger are comforts, a balm.
"Who do you want me to be, huh," he spits at you. His fights with you are never physical but the bruises left by your words take longer to heal than those left by a fist. "Do us both favor and just tell me."
The look you give him is gentle, disappointed even, soft features slipping, sagging, until they finally come to rest in a pointed frown.
He isn't going for disappointment. He's going for angry. Punching low to knock you off balance. He wants to know your fury. He wants to watch you fight.
"I just want you to be yourself," you say.
And, what kind of sick, twisted shit is that?
Be himself?
Be himself?
When has he ever been anything other than what others want him to be. A doting son. A loyal second. A bad boy you can date to piss off you parents. He has never, not once in his entire fucking life, been himself.
Fuck, why do you have to make things so difficult? Why can't you just tell him who to be? Why won't you just fight him?
"What if..." his voice trails off. He averts his gaze. If he keeps looking at you, the words won't come out right. Reconciliation is unfamiliar to him. He doesn't know what it looks like, but he thinks it might feel like being lost at sea. The ocean waves have a way of smoothing out even the toughest of rocks, "What if I don't know how to do that?"
He chances a glace at you. You're still frowning. Damn, he hates it when you frown. Hates it even more when it's his fault you look like that, all mopey and sad and one wrong word away from tears.
"It isn't too late to learn," you reply. "I could help you if you'd like. It isn't easy, but you can start by identifying what you want, what you like."
He wraps himself around you, tightly, as if to anchor himself to a shore. His arms move ever so slightly with the rise and fall of your chest as you breath. It's soothing. You're soothing. He doesn't want to lose this.
"I want you," he mumbles carefully into the top of your head. "I like you."
You shuffle a bit in his arms as if to turn to face him, but Togame holds you still for him. He isn't ready to see whatever look has made its way onto your face. No one ever taught him to be fluent in sadness. If you frown at him now, he'll break.
"You have me," you whisper, still squirming around in his grip. "Togame, you have me. I promise."
Your words of reassurance should steady him, but he still feels adrift like his land legs haven't kicked in just yet. The room around him sways, tilted on some unseen axis.
Then your hand reaches up to caress his face and all at once everything slows, stops. He's able to get his bearings, to orient himself again.
You are here and you are in his arms and he has you. His hands so versed in fighting are also made for holding.
He suddenly wants your weight. All of it. He wants you to sit on him, to straddle him.
He pulls you down onto the sofa in that exact position. You let out a surprised gasp at the unexpected speed at which he manhandles you onto his lap, but you go easily. Was it not you who just told him that in order to be himself he first had to identify his wants?
He wants whatever you'll give him. Anything you'll give him. If only he could find the words to tell you.
But you must understand what he wants because you kindly press your perspiring forehead against his. Of course you are fluent in sadness. This is a conversation easily had.
He hopes you kiss him. Anywhere. Everywhere.
And maybe, just maybe, he can be himself if it means he'll get to spend an eternity with you.
#wind breaker x reader#wind breaker x you#togame x reader#togame x you#togame jo x reader#togame jo x you#jo togame x reader#jo togame x you
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being super normal about White calling Billy "a dreamer"after the events of Maybe No Go
#truly alarming amount of tags on this post don't click read more fr#the venture bros#pete white#bily quizboy#billy whalen#idk man the way they balance each other is really interesting#the things they agree on and disagree on are almost arbitrary#'you can't put mouthwash in a cookie' 'trust me' vs 'we should spend 10 mil on a motorcycle instead of housing' 'that's such a cool idea'#billy trying to pep white up about the ball#'this was your dream too' like come on dude when have pete's dreams ever worked out#when have yours#'what are we gonna do now billy?' 'we'll cross that bridge when we come to it'#baby the bridge has never been more present#ALSO white calling billy the dreamer when HE'S the one who pushes so hard for things#billy has dreams that might not be realistic but they give him hope and he works around the way the world works to make things happen#like being a self-taught surgeon and believing in a magic ball#pete has dreams IN SPITE of what is realistic and he will mold reality to be what he wants in order to make it happen#like fixing the quizshow and pretty much everything that happened in invisible hand of fate#and they both have disabilities that affect them in vastly different ways and impact their relationship with realistic goals#like billy's hydrocephalus being presented to the audience as mostly a social issue for him and the hand and eye being marks of trauma#rather than like an actual block for him beyond needing to tune the hand up every now and then#vs white's albinism making him physically unable to be in direct sunlight and making him actively fearful of doing certain things and#being certain places#to be clear i know the actual effects of hydrocephalus as well as the hand and eye but this is based on how the show presents it#like billy took these things about himself into account and went ok these are part of my reality and i will work with them#and pete took his reality and went ok i will cover it up with fake tan and wigs or sunscreen and hats and make reality what i want it to be#and that's what makes them a good team!! that's why they science together well#it's also why they argue so much#accepting reality and playing within its constraints vs hating reality and changing it to suit you#these are the hallmarks of scientific progress
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1:30am. plagued by thoughts of michael and everything going on in his tiny 10-13 year old head :(
#like obviously. problems and issues then on and before SKDJFMG#but yeah while a lot of his behaviors as a young teenager are influenced by home life (ranging based on portrayals but i always make sure#it’s got similar roots and feelings) as well as social standing a LOTTTTT OF IT is very extremely tied to mental illness that did not get#acknowledgement or treatment.. that was the age his very intense depression started to come in Swinging along with increased anxiety/panic#and. neurodivergence is still a greyer area because it’s definitely there in the way i write him but how it mixes with ptsd#(plus the question of how much of that is just. Me LMAO) always has me ??? about making the call i’ve talked about this#BUT YOU GET THE POINT THERE’S A LOT!!!#he’s gutwrenchingly depressed and in pain and has been TAUGHT by observance and emotional neglect and [insert other aftonisms here] to Bury#that and is so convinced his emotions are a sign of weakness and That’s Why He’s Not Good Enough so he compensates however he can#and there’s no excuse for what it snowballs into but ohh my god JUST GET THAT BOY ON SSRIS#he didn’t even have the words for so much of it but there were so many aspects of himself that he was utterly convinced made him wrong#his actions become as drastic as they do because it’s EVERYTHING around him reinforcing the root problem#how am i supposed to sleep when im sick about him#⁂ ･ﾟ: i was looking for a job‚ and then i found a job‚ and heaven knows i’m miserable now ➛ ooc
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you were sugurus best eater and no one could compare, you being able to suck his soul out of his body was one of the reasons he decided to make you his partner, which is wrong on his part and is also why he would never tell you that part.
before the both of you made it official, you both would hook up with each other and the way you made his eyes roll back and his toes curl was ungodly, he couldn't even moan one good time before he was cumming in your mouth.
he loved the way your cheeks hollowed out, and your tongue teased the tip while your hands played with his balls. no one ever had a technique when it came to sucking his dick, so it would just be a whole sloppy mess, but the way you did it was different.
the goal you have when sucking his dick was to make him cum as fast as possible, because let's be honest, sucking dick can be exhausting unless you absolutely love it, so having his big dick in your mouth for a long time wasn't the greatest time, but his cum was a great reward.
sugurus mind was blown when your tongue first made contact with the tip of his dick, and all in that same mind sequence his cum was landing in the back of your throat, he couldn't let this go.
everyone else sucked dick like they really didn't want to, the only goal for them was to look hot while doing it, and it only failed. whenever you did it, although you were doing it quickly, you had a technique that worked every time, and you looked sexy all at the same time.
he wanted your mouth latched onto his length every day and every second of the day. the best part is that you didn't know the thoughts that swirled around in his mind, about how he wanted to lock you up and keep you for himself.
when you two weren't together he would get jealous at the thought of you sucking someone up like you did to him, and it made his blood boil, that mouth should be for him and him only and that's exactly what he did.
“who taught you how to do that?” is a passive-aggressive question he would ask you every time he came into your mouth with no delay. who taught this gorgeous person in front of him how to suck dick that good.
once you reassured him that you practiced with yourself and got the technique from yourself, his worries withered away, and his dick grew in size, teaching yourself how to do something so lewd and nasty, it turned him on.
turned him on to have those pretty lips latched around his length and his eyes looking down at yours as they get watery and your throat getting tight as you stuff him down.
everything you did was so effortlessly perfect, he just couldn't get enough.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk suguru#jjk geto#suguru geto#jujutsu kaisen suguru#geto suguru#suguru geto smut#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu geto#geto#geto x reader#geto smut#suguru
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Tie my tie, marry me
Summary:
The moment Nanami knew he never wanted to tie his tie by himself ever again and wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side.
fluffy, nanami x fem!reader, nanami already loves everything you do but something about tying his tie was so intimate and special to him
It had been a year since Nanami officially asked you to be his girlfriend, but you had just started staying over during the weekdays. If either of you would stay at each other's houses, it would only be during the weekends when you both knew the next day could be dedicated to each other. Only recently had that unspoken rule changed.
You had both gone to the mall to shop for your new professional wardrobe and Nanami asked if he could buy a few extra things for you to keep at his house. You both knew what that implied and told him he could buy it, only if you could buy some stuff for him to keep at your house. You had both never been happier to spend more time and money at a crowded mall.
Nanami woke up a bit later for work than usual because of a power outage that turned off his alarm clock and did not charge his phone. You went into work after he did so you make his coffee and pack his lunch while he took a quick shower. You run into the bathroom to let him know he had less than 15 more minutes.
He steps out of the shower and grabs his razor to shave. You reach for the hairdryer he bought for you to keep at his house and start to dry his hair as he quickly shaves. You run out and start to rummage through his closet to set his clothes on the bed. Nanami finishes shaving and follows you out to get dressed.
"Shirt first, hurry," you take the shirt off the hanger and throw it to him.
Nanami begins to button the shirt when you get in front of him and start pulling his collar up and putting his tie around his neck. He looks at you with a questioning look and you quickly explain, "My dad taught me how to tie a tie. Never thought it'd come in handy since I never knew anyone who regularly wore a tie before you." You laugh at the memory but continue what you were doing to avoid making your boyfriend late.
Nanami however... his fingers stop buttoning his shirt. He looks at you, concentration and rush covering your features, but your fingers gently grazed his skin as you looped his tie. She's the first person to ever tie it for me, Nanami thinks. He had to learn how to do it from a video and was later corrected by some older male coworkers who showed him with their own ties.
The events of that morning finally dawn on him. You jumped out of bed right after you felt him jump out and started rushing around the apartment with him. He hadn't even mentioned that he was late, but you opened your eyes and knew what to do. He could smell the coffee from the room and heard the clanking of the leftover containers being opened and slid across counters from the shower. You dried his hair knowing that his route to work was not long enough to let it dry itself, and you took out exactly what he would have worn that day while he shaved. And now... there you stood before him, helping him tie his tie so his hands could do other things.
It seemed so... small. It was so small, so truly insignificant in the scale of life, something that could not hold weight in the world or change anything in the universe. But it changed his life, it was his favorite view in the world, and it would become his universe.
You look up at him and see him staring... and his hands not moving?! You move his hands away from the buttons and rush to finish buttoning it down. He takes your face in his hands and leans down to kiss you slowly. So very slow and soft. It stops you completely and you wrap your arms around his waist, relishing in the smell of his aftershave and body wash. Nanami deepens the kiss and moves an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. As much as you love when he pulls you in, the movement pulls you out of the kiss trance.
"Oh my god, Kento, hurry!! You're late, you're late!"
You step back and shove his pants into his arms. You tell him to hurry and that you'd grab his shoes to put by the door. You start yelling across the apartment that it would rain the entire afternoon and he needed to take the umbrella.
Nanami listens as you rustle through the closet looking for the umbrella and the light thud of what might have been his lunch bag and coffee thermal on the entryway table. He walks out the room putting on his suit jacket and sees you lightly jumping while telling him to hurry with his shoes.
Nanami leans down to tie his shoes but pauses after he's done. He goes to touch your bare leg since you hadn't even gotten dressed after waking up. You only wore his large shirt and underwear. He kneels and carefully lifts one leg to kiss your knee. He looks up from his kneeling position and says, "Thank you for helping. You really didn't have to."
His loving eyes close slightly while you lean down to give him one kiss as your response. "You're late," you whisper against his lips.
Nanami stands and takes his things while waving bye to you and your bed head. He heads out the door and begins a light jog to catch his regular train.
Yeap, she's the one, Nanami thinks.
Nanami spent his lunch break at the jewelry shop looking at rings that would look beautiful on your finger. There were so many engagement rings that would look gorgeous on you, but one caught his eye as he imagined that ring slightly moving on your finger as you tied his tie.
"I like that one. Do you have a size (your ring size) in stock?"
Nanami buys the ring at that moment and texts you to ask if he could come over to your house after work. He does not plan to propose on a regular Tuesday evening with no special plans, but he wants to hug you, smell your lovely perfume, take you some flowers, and give you a special thanks for helping him. And maybe, maaaayybe (most likely), stay over at your house to help him with his tie again the next morning.
#nanami kento#jjk nanami#jjk nanami kento#nanami#nanami x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu kaisen nanami kento#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami#jjk nanami x reader#jjk nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#nanami kento fluff#nanami fluff#nanami jjk#nanamin#jjk nanami kento x fem!reader#nanami x fem!reader#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#jjk x reader#nanamin fluff#nanami kento tie#jjk nanami kento tie
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cherry blossoms 01
pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader
contents: phone sex, mutual masturbation (f! and m!), JOI (m! receiving), Choso's first orgasm, praise kink (but in the softest way possible), friends to lovers, soft-smut
word count: 1.9K
MDNI | 18+
virgin!Choso who met you shortly after he met Yuji. He was wary of most people, but he thought your eyes were kind and pretty, and your voice was soothing and soft as you introduced yourself to him. He blushed when you asked him what his name was and he told you, still a little nervous. And then you smiled up at him, so sweet and bright, and told him yours and he swore it became his new favorite word.
virgin!Choso who started spending more time with you, because you made him feel safe. He was used to violence, used to being treated like a weapon by the people who had claimed to be his “allies.” But everything felt different with you. You helped teach him about the world, helped him to understand himself. You were patient and gentle, warm sunlight on the cold, barren existence that had been his life for so many years prior.
virgin!Choso who liked hearing you laugh more than anything. Sometimes he would make you laugh on accident, sometimes on purpose, but he didn’t really care either way. He liked watching the way your eyes creased at the corners, sometimes the tip of your nose. He liked when he made you laugh really hard too, when little tears would roll down your cheeks and the sounds of your giggles would be cut off by your panting. He made you laugh really hard today when he so innocently asked about something he had heard Yuji say to Megumi:
“Yuji was talking about something called ‘sloppy toppy’… Do you know where you get that from?”
You swore you were going to die of asphyxiation from the way your body convulsed and curled in on itself. Choso didn’t understand what was so funny, but he smiled as you wiped tears from your eyes.
virgin!Choso whose eyebrows knitted together intensely when you told him what “sloppy toppy” meant. He understood the basics of sex (as in he knew that it was how humans reproduced), but he had never experienced the desire for it or feelings of lust. But this new vocabulary word had introduced so many questions he had never considered before; how sex could just be for pleasure, how many different ways you could have it, what it felt like... The blush on your cheeks darkened as his questions turned more intimate, letting his genuine curiosity guide him.
“The first and most important thing about having sex is that you feel safe with the person you’re having it with,” you explained to him after a while of answering his questions.
“Safe like how I feel with you?” Choso asked you softly, looking into your eyes with his deep purple ones. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your cheeks blushing pink. You nodded softly, but gently changed the subject.
virgin!Choso who couldn’t help but go home that night and think about everything you had taught him. He thought of your pretty eyes as you explained everything to him in your soothing voice. He thought of the way your soft lips looked when you smiled or how they glistened when you wet them with your tongue. He laid in bed and felt an unfamiliar pressure in his pants, almost as if he was in pain. He shifted around, trying to get the feeling to go away but it felt like all he could focus on was his dick. He lifted up the waistband of his sweatpants to look at himself, seeing his cock resting stiffly against his stomach, swelling up as fluid leaked from the tip of it. He groaned low in his throat, suddenly wishing you were there with him in his room. He wanted you to be there to help him; to explain in your soft, sweet voice what was happening to him, why his cock was so hard and why it was dripping so much.
virgin!Choso who called you because he just couldn’t take it anymore and he didn’t know what to do.
“Choso? Everything okay?” You asked him in your sweet voice, slightly concerned because it was almost 1:00 AM at this point and he usually didn't call you this late.
He swallowed a lump in his throat as he held the phone up to his ear with one hand, the other pushing the waistband of his sweatpants down to free his throbbing cock. He groaned at the feeling of the fabric brushing against his sensitive balls as he shifted them down.
“It’s so hard right now and it keeps leaking… I don’t know what to do,” Choso’s deep voice whined over the phone.
“It’s-? Ohhh…” You felt your breath catch in your throat as his words sank in, sitting up in your bed as you heard his needy tone. You bit into your lip, feeling a steady ache between your thighs building at the sound of his voice alone. You took a deep breath as you collected yourself the best you could.
“Umm, well… Sometimes the best way to make it go away is to make yourself cum,” you explained softly, feeling an odd mix of embarrassment and arousal at the same time. Choso was your friend, and he was calling you so innocently about his problem, he probably didn’t even realize how erotic it was.
virgin!Choso who did in fact realize how erotic it was when hearing your soft voice on the other end of the line made his cock twitch.
“I don’t know how…” Choso groaned softly in response to your suggestion, watching the fluid leak from the tip of his aching cock and drip onto the bottom of his stomach.
You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of his voice, simultaneously tensing your thighs together as your own need grew rapidly. You bit your lip as your next response bounced around in your head for a few moments before you answered.
“I could… Tell you how… If you want,” you offered softly, your voice like a sweet whisper in Choso’s ear. Choso nodded quickly as his hand gripped onto his phone a little harder.
“Please,” he said softly, and it took everything in your power to not moan at how hot his husky voice sounded when he was so desperate for you.
virgin!Choso whose phone was now on speaker as you guided him through how to touch himself. He wrapped his large palm around his girth, groaning in pleasure as you told him to use the leaky fluid from his tip to slide his hand down his length. He listened obediently, his breath shaky as he followed the rhythm of your voice, telling him to slide his hand down… up… down… up… down… up…
He couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper as your voice controlled his every movement, feeling his hips twitching, jerking up into his hand instinctively. The sounds were so erotic: his whimpers through the phone; the soft, wet sounds you could hear coming from the movement of his palm over his skin. You were trying so hard not to touch yourself, your thighs squeezing together impossibly tight as you bit into your lip to suppress the urge to moan back in response to his whiny breaths.
“Squeeze your fist a little tighter when you get to your tip, Choso… Does that feel good?” You asked him, your own breathing getting a little heavy from trying to remain composed.
“Yes… Yes… Feels so good,” Choso whimpered as he fisted his cock on the other end of the line. You let out a soft moan of your own. You didn’t even remember moving your pillow, but there it was, in between your legs as you humped your aching, panty-clad pussy into it.
virgin!Choso who heard your soft moan and he almost came on the spot, his breath stuttering as he heard your angelic voice sound so lewd.
“D-do that again… Please,” he begged softly, increasing the pace of his hand as his hips thrusted up into the tight grip of his fist. His head was tilted back into his pillow, eyes almost closed, his lids so heavy from pleasure. You could envision all of it now as your own eyes squeezed shut, grinding into your pillow a little harder so the seam of the casing rubbed against your swollen clit. You heard the wet sounds of his fist sliding up and down his shaft and you moaned a little louder as you rubbed your clit into the pillow.
Choso whimpered as he heard your moans through the phone. He could feel a coiling pleasure building in his lower body quickly now, every thrust into his fist making him feel even more desperate. The sounds he was making were breathy and frantic as he braced against the dizzying pressure of the newfound sensations. His body was acting on pure instinct, pushing himself rapidly towards an unknown edge.
He whimpered your name out and you knew he was close. Your own arousal only increased as you imagined it was him you were humping so desperately as he whined beneath you. Your fingers slipped into your panties, sliding into your soaking hole as you rocked against them, moaning loudly as you felt your own climax building.
“K-keep stroking your cock for me, Cho… Want you to cum nice and hard for me, okay?” Your voice was breathless and punctuated by your own soft moans as you heard Choso groaning and whimpering in agreement as he loudly fucked into his fist. His back arched as he thrusted his swollen cock up into his palm, wishing it were your hand, your mouth, or the space between your thighs that he now realized he was longing to see.
virgin!Choso who sobbed your name out as he came into his fist, fucking up into his hand as ropes of his warm cum shot out of his swollen cock and fell back onto his hand, his abdomen, his thighs... His balls were so heavy—his thick cock twitching with every spurt that released from his slit—and his hips jerked up as he painted his body with his seed. He whimpered as it kept coming, his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he panted and moaned loudly. You could hear him whine louder from the other end of the phone, as you brought yourself closer and closer to your own climax.
“So good, Choso… You did so good,” you praised him breathlessly, your own body leaning forward as you moaned into the phone. You rolled your hips furiously into the pillow, bolstered by his desperate whimpers as you came around your fingers. You whined for him now too, riding out your own high as Choso’s breathing slowly returned to normal on the other side of the phone.
virgin!Choso who broke the silence first.
“Did you… Did you cum too?” He asked breathlessly, plump lips parted slightly as he stared up at his ceiling, eyes still half-lidded as he came down from the high of his first orgasm.
You swallowed as your body relaxed into your bed, pillow still trapped between your thighs.
“Um yeah, I did,” you laughed a little nervously. The reality of what just occurred between the two of you was sinking in now that you both had climaxed. There was some silence on both ends as you both breathed heavily.
“Good,” Choso said softly, smiling up at his ceiling. “Maybe next time… We could do it together?”
virgin!Choso who would not be a virgin for much longer after that night!
PSA: thank you so much for reading <3
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo x you#choso kamo x y/n#choso smut#choso x reader#choso x you#choso x y/n#kamo choso smut#kamo choso x reader
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ghost yellin pt. 2!! (and 2k followers. omg.)
(mention of blood n knives n stuff in here)
pt. 1~~~
It was still early in the morning when your puffy eyes blink open. Despite the mission that had your arrival around 3-ish in the morning, it was still the crack of dawn, which meant the start of your day, mission or not.
The warmth you had longed for encased you, but today, it felt unfamiliar.
You hadn’t forgotten about yesterday (or earlier today). And even though what happened upset you, you’d still wanted him, so you could feel the comfort your father never gave you after an argument. You’d never received a genuine apology from him, just an offer for new shoes or to go to your favorite restaurant that day.
Even in anguish after what he did, you still wanted his touch. Or that may have been what you thought, because now you were peeling his strong arms off you, and creeping to the bedside. You cautiously swing your legs over and slowly step to the door, but even though you were going unbelievably slow, the pain underneath your feet made you wince.
“Wait—”
There’s a gruff voice that your back is turned to, making you jump at the realization he was awake. You had been taught all your life to fight when your fight or flight response flickers, but he noticed how you almost bolted towards your room.
He had been awake the whole time. He’d vouched to himself he wouldn’t close his eyes until your breaths were regular again, but even after they had, he’d barely gotten any sleep. If he had tears left to cry, one would’ve slipped.
Whenever he did fall to the night, in any circumstance, his body physically would prevent him from staying such. He was a light sleeper to another extreme. His body was trained by none other than trauma and instinct. So when he felt you raising his arm, he’d awakened and watched you do everything silently.
He would’ve said something, but he didn’t know what. An apology would sound fake in this situation.
Ghost was a hands-on man, so he moved. His large body flipped the covers off him and hastily brought itself to you.
The last time you’d let him get close, he screamed in your face. You took an involuntary step back, but had you thought about it you probably would’ve taken it anyway. His quick steps pause.
He gazes into your frozen eyes, glistening and pretty even in upset, but underneath carrying fear and shock.
Seeing him, one side of you wanted to apologize for not taking your job seriously, even though you did, or say you were sorry for the other things he mentioned. And you may have when you were 13, but you were a strong woman that built off men’s bullshit over the years, so you hold your ground.
He shrunk himself and moved effectively before you. No unnecessary movements.
“Please. Wait.”
You could tell he was trying to make his voice soft, but the octave and accent just did not allow it. He was trying though.
Do you book it, or stay?
You stay, to hear him. He recognizes your stance as one specifically military-taught, ready to move.
“I didn’t mean to yell at you. I should’ve been better,” he started. You’d come to realize even with small issues, he was an okay apologizer. “I’m sorry. You’re the last person who deserved that.”
He inspected the way you heard him but just stood there awkwardly. You were never awkward around him. In fact, he was the awkward one.
His heart dropped at how visibly uncomfortable you looked. He wanted to touch you—to take all your problems away, but it wouldn’t work this time. Not when he was the problem.
Ghost was the type of person to do anything for you, anything to get you back. You were the only one who saw him as Simon now, ever since the others died or were killed. He ruined that.
He let the mask get the best of him, finally turning into the murderous, scary man the world sees him as, everyone but you. You’d never been afraid of him, and he himself had changed that.
So in the silence he scans your beautiful eyes again, the brightness they usually reflect gone and replaced. You blink at him like a puppy. A small, scared puppy.
He’d made you cry. He’d made you cry.
He wasn’t expecting forgiveness, or your usual unconditional love, but the silence was too much to bear. He knows what he did, but he genuinely has no idea how he could make it up to you. Once you realize the conversation was over, and that’s all he had to say, you turn your head and limp past the doorway to your room. You were going to cry again.
But that was far from what he wanted to say.
He didn’t realize it when a tear of his own bundled up under his blonde eyelashes, a feeling so rare that people’s jokes about him being a robot could seem true. It had been so long, but watching you sadly walk away from him was enough.
The door was wide open, but he stood there, feeling more useless than he ever had.
These were the times he wished his mother was here. To tell him what to do. To spread the emotional knowledge of loving someone so much it pained you, something she had perfected over the years. Instead, he picked up the brutalities of his father. And he will never forgive him for that.
. .
You’d avoided him for an entire day, almost two, despite being in such close proximity and having to do everything with the squad. He didn’t know whether to leave you be or try again and again. Ultimately, he picked the first. That didn’t mean there weren’t subtle things to get your attention though.
He couldn’t think about yelling again. But it was only at you. So everyone else was graced with their lieutenant in a worse mood than he’s usually in, but they wouldn’t dare ask what was up or say anything to you. Actually, they had barely spoken to you like they had orders not to.
Ghost was rarely in the common room anyway, but now he was really tucked away in his quarters. He preserved his words, though even then they were still snappy. He had an attitude, yes, but he’d come to his senses enough to reflect and prevent himself from saying anything potentially hurtful.
He’d cherished the moments you had no choice but to be close to him a lot more than before, and his voice was barely even the tone of regular speech. Because now, he was scared.
He’d seen how bad relationships can turn, and it doesn’t help it was the man he’s seen all his life ruining what a woman gave him. He doesn’t want to be like that. And if he already has been, he tries to calm himself at night by running through his head “you’re already better than him by trying to fix it,” like a mantra. He’s cried the nights without you. He felt like he was floating away all the time, away from the Earth and the people around him. He barely knows himself anymore.
Little does he know, the time spent without him converted your sadness to anger. Rage.
He has the audacity to scream in your face? After all you do for him? After you put your life on the fucking line and take bullets for him every day?
With your father, it never did convert to anger, because you refused to let it. Being a child, you were way too dependent on him emotionally and physically. He was still your dad, you’d think.
And yes, while you loved Simon, there wasn’t the biological connection to pressure you to him. He was just a man. And if there’s anything you learned yourself, it was that you wouldn’t be pushed around by one.
So the day progressed on with an assignment. The troops were sent out, Ghost in charge.
He had made an order to surround the building, stay hidden in tall grass. A few would push in. They were armed and dangerous.
His voice was loud through the comms, going directly through the headset clear as day. Your team pressed forward alongside his. He had made every order around the fact that you needed to be right next to him, always in view, so he could keep his watchful eye out.
You crouched around the corner, waiting for command. You whisper in mic to your own squad, instructing them to watch for third-party while everyone’s idle.
The second he calls it, you all infiltrate right after smoke grenades set off. It was quickly cleared of the criminal within a few minutes because there weren’t many to take out, just a few in nooks and crannies, but one of them had caught you through a closet door. It had small blinded windows in it.
A quick sharp pain let you know there was a knife drilled into your side. It was small, and could be a lot deeper, but it still hurt like a bitch.
You had taken worse, so you gunned him down with a swift turn and ignored it. The adrenaline was medicine.
Once everyone returned to base with evac, people noticed the spot of red on your uniform but brushed it off as a battle scar. Until they saw the knife. It would be stupid to remove it.
“That looks pretty bad, you should get that patched up,” someone says. Someone you didn’t know, probably from another unit. You refrain from saying no shit and keep walking to the infirmary.
You finally decide remove it with added pressure to the wound, keeping the gauze close and the slim slit through your skin tight. The adrenaline was wearing off now and everything started to come back to you. You groan loudly when you touch it.
Red stains your fingers. It wasn’t deep but it had to be pulled out, and standing would be hard. You sit to see what you were doing.
“Fuck!” you yell.
The pain was ten times worse when you sat down, the fold of your body at the hip right underneath the opening. You feel like you could imagine the knife scraping other parts of your insides.
Suddenly the door opens. No one other than Ghost stands there, fully in gear, searching for the source of the cry. Once he locates you, you barely hear him murmur “bloody hell.” You glance up at him, then back down to what you were doing. He tries to ignore the equivalent stab in his heart at that, the one that matched the way his face drops at the sight of you. You would be able to see the white of his eyes through the mask if you’d look at him.
You were unconsciously trembling, attempting to mentally prepare yourself to pull the knife out slow. The man before you just watched.
“Get out,” you demanded.
“No,” he calmly replies. Once again, barely above a whisper, but heavy with accent.
You visibly roll your eyes and continue picking at the knife, trying to find the easiest way to retrieve it. Of course Ghost would take this time to be near you when you can’t run away from him.
He removes his gloves and opens the cabinets beside him, getting peroxide and other medical things. He walks to you with them in hand, and you bring it upon yourself to completely ignore him.
He steadily drops to a knee in front of you so you see eye to eye. You hiss when you pull at one side and it doesn’t work.
Softly, he breaks the silence, “When did this happen?”
No response. He was looking you dead in the eyes despite how horrible at eye contact he usually is.
“When did-“
“Earlier, Lieutenant.” You speak. He knows this was you digging at him. It worked, but he brushes it off.
He reaches his bare hands rid of the supplies up to help you. He was mad at nobody other than himself for not being there.
“Stop,” you shoo his hand away, tending back to your wound. Even though he wanted to help, he backed off.
To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, and he’d probably had this happen a thousand times. He was inevitably better at medical anything compared to you.
“How did it happen?” He waits. Wasting time talking to him will have you bleeding out. The knife was a little under halfway visible.
“I was taking my job seriously, Lieutenant.”
He cringes at the words he’s shameful to call his own. He wants nothing more than for you to at least be on speaking terms with him, but even that he knows he doesn’t deserve. He sighs deeply.
“I’m sorry, let me help you. Please,” he begs.
“I don’t want your help, and you don’t want mine. So we can keep it that way.”
What he said that night was far from true; you did more than just help him. He was dependent on you. He surveys the way you hiss at the straining feeling, attempting to take deep breaths between tugs, but only making it worse. He won’t let everything you’re throwing at him break him down in this state.
“Grab it from the top, do it all at once. Then stop the blood immediately.”
You huff in annoyance at his words, causing yourself pain from your own irritation. But, he did know what he was doing, so you followed the orders. He inspects you.
You tug on the knife with a painful deep breath and moan at the pain, shutting your eyes. The view alone gives Simon whatever you’re feeling tenfold.
It only goes up about a centimeter. It hurt so bad though, your breaths were heavy and enhancing the stinging sensation. Your audible whimper was enough for the man in front of you to take action.
You almost forgot how mad you were at him from the pain, so when his hands reached up to you, you just let them. His right applied pressure to the sides. He couldn’t care that it stained his rough, pale hands. The left rests on your hand planted on the seat, then he instructs you to lay down. It’ll avoid scratching any more areas inside by stretching out.
“Relax. It’ll hurt, but you got it.”
You don’t respond to this, and stare up at the ceiling. You still didn’t want to look at him.
Simon has to remember you were still fairly untouched in comparison to his background in the military, the scars and scratches proof to where he’s been. He’s not used to being gentle. He’s around grown men for god’s sake.
And while he knows you’re strong, he wishes someone took the time to allow him some vulnerability back then.
You’re on your back, awaiting his next move. He hovers over you.
“I’mna to count to three, alright? I know you can do it.”
You blink, but he knows you can hear him. Somehow it hurts worse to breathe so your chest runs shallow.
“One,” he starts.
Were you ready? He was going to-
You scream loud enough to have the entire base questioning what was going on before he gets to three, but Simon’s face doesn’t falter from his soft expression as he accurately rips the object out of you. Your hands subconsciously reach for his, then grip him with a pure strength you didn’t even know you possessed. You yelled a long line of curses with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes until it all ended as fast as it came.
You were heaving and your face was hot, sweat gathering along your hairline.
“There you go,” he praises, his movements were quick and efficient. The tape was being placed over the filled injury. “Good girl.”
You were breathless, tired, and red. You wanted to lay down.
“It hurts, Simon,” you whisper.
“I know baby, I know.”
. .
You laid in bed with the dinner one of the soldiers brought you. Simon walks in sometime later, his hand cupped.
“You alright?”
He steps in beside your bed, sitting on the covers. He releases some painkillers right next to the water on your nightstand.
You just nod.
He nods approvingly back, then rests his forearms on his thighs. There’s an uncomfortable silence. An uncomfortable silence.
The ink on his arm was visible along with the scars he’s carried. Some new, some old. It’s a simple t-shirt that stops at the bicep, but he never likes to have his arms out because he’s never comfortable with them showing.
“I just wanted to say—”
“I…don’t want to hear it.” You shut him down.
“Please?”
His ocean eyes survey yours for some type of mercy, some hint you’ll hear him out again. He has concluded that he can speak, but the worst that can happen is you’ll stop listening. You can’t really walk away.
And this was the first time his please seemed to end with a question mark.
“I didn’t mean to yell, but I did, and it hurt you. Even though I just aided you, I did it as a partner. Not just a comrade. You are great at what you do, but you mean a lot more to me than just business—I love you, because you see me differently than everyone else.”
Knowing Simon, it probably did take him the whole day and a half to come up with that and relay it. This tugged your heart strings a little, but then it all came back to you.
“On top of calling me useless you yelled in my face. What were you so angry for anyway?”
Truthfully, he felt that had he told you the real reason, It’d make him look worse. But you deserved it.
“One of the soldiers in another unit looked into my background. Found out about an old mission and the people behind it.”
You hadn’t known much about Simon’s life, because he never talks about it, but you knew enough. It was the mission where he was set up. Betrayed.
You would be pissed too.
But his head hung low in shame, angry that he let an old part of him rekindle in the form of fury. He let out said fury on you.
“Regardless, it was uncalled for. Just think on it, yeah?” He pleads. He’s not sure what he’s telling you to think on, though he doesn’t know the active status of your relationship. But he understands how degrading what he did was, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.
But you already had an answer.
“I don’t have to think on it,” you say.
His head whips around, the sadness on his face replaced with shock, and the crinkles coming to form between his brows in confusion. He’d expected the worst, but the worst was what he deserved.
“I’m still very upset. But I don’t hate you. I want you to go to therapy,” you insist.
On the inside, Simon was thrilled. This is the best outcome, better than anything he’d conjured up in his head, and he’d been told a billion times to go to therapy. If it meant being able to hold you again, he’d stay the whole day on a little couch instead of downing prescribed medication that wasn’t working every night.
“I’ll think about what to do from there. But I don’t want it to happen again, because I promise I know what my decision will be the next time,” you declare. He took this message more seriously than he takes Price some days. There was a fire in your eyes to show him how serious you were, and that you’d get up extra close to him just to point your finger in his face if you could.
He understood you hadn’t forgave him, but was giving him some type of redemption. So he could prove himself.
And he was damn good at proving himself worthy of things, hence the Lieutenant in front of his name.
this a lil long. @thesecretwriter @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @jjmoonjj @bigmannico @bloodyquillink-blog @boggiesho @earth-to-lottie @e1fade @instantplaiddream @mentallyillartist @stillinracooncity @missborntodiex @rhyanna6012 @hao-ming-8 @starrrchiato @goth-boi-atlas @keiva1000 @pampeop @sleepy-time-dreamy @laurenbenoit70 @tojis-big-daddy-milkers @jstarrs23423 @madameducyberversailles @eri-channnnnnn @schmelscorner @commandertorinshepard @lua83727 @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @nyannyanmochi020 @p1nkliquor
#simon ghost x reader#ghost angst#ghost cod#cod mwf2#cod mwii#cod x reader#cod mw2#cod mw ghost#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley#cod ghost#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x you#cod angst#cod modern warfare#cod#god i want him so bad#mw2#call of duty mwii#mwii#call of duty mw2#ghost mwii#call of duty#ghost x female reader#ghost x y/n
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