#my depression is just creeping back up and i don’t want that

[bettysupremacy]

hii! I was wondering if you could write a fic with reader and any marauder (they all fit) and maybe helping or becoming protective over the reader after a concert or party after a creep follows the reader? 😭

I went through a similar experience with a guy following me around after I went to the restroom after a concert, and it ruined my night if i'm being honest, I was scared 😞 I'm not the most shy of people and usually I can handle myself but it was pretty dark and idk the adrenaline from feeling happy to scared shifted pretty quickly. Luckily I found my friends and let them know and we quickly went back to our car (along with a few dirty looks from my friends god bless lol). I swore I could go to the restroom by myself- will not be doing that again :(

you can ignore this request if it makes you uncomfortable!

thank uu

i’m so sorry that happened to you! “(they all fit)”= poly marauders!

There’s something about post concert depression, especially when you’re with the band.

Your glitter eyeshadow is smudged, eyeliner untouched. You’d been shaken around in the pit of your boyfriends fans, and yet the paint hasn’t budged. God bless water-proof makeup. The world seems prettier like this, touched by alcohol and the feeling of soaring pride for your boyfriends. The glittery lights and signs of time square never fail to dazzle you, even now as you lean against Sirius morosely.

“M’hungry.” You frown, toes tipping up towards Sirius, though you fear the mumble may have been more for yourself.

His attention is diverted towards the boys as they discuss what to do now. Plans of how to get home and where to eat. His finger taps your cheek slowly, his focus paying you no mind. Words like Uber, hotel, room service echo throughout their very repetitive conversation.

“Sirius.”

He looks down, a little shocked and sorry at his own attention. “Yes, lovely?”

“M’hungry.”

“Hungry?” He asks, cringing. You’re about thirty minutes from the hotel, and even then, room service will take another thirty.

“So hungry.”

He sighs, unsure of what to do.

“There’s a hotdog stand over there.” You grab his tattooed bicep to balance yourself as you point to your right.

He thinks, peering down at you. “This won’t ruin your dinner?” It’s midnight, but still.

“No,” you sing, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I really want a hotdog.

He flushes, looking away from your wandering eyes. Normally he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. They would never let you out of their sight in a place like this. But the cart is in eye view of the boys, and he has faith in you not to stray, even in your inebriated manor. It’s not that they don’t trust you, they just prefer to keep you safe themselves. Is that okay?

“Okay,” He murmurs, pulling out his wallet, handing you his card. “At least get the good toppings.”

“I always get the good toppings.” You pull away.

The walk is short and the cart is colorful. Red and white stripes, curvy calligraphy. It shines in your inebriated vision. Beautiful. The queues not long, just an older man waiting in front of you, but it feels like forever as the generous man (with the toppings as well) takes your order and wraps it in warm aluminum foil.

You take the hotdog eagerly. “Thank you.”

It’s heavy in your hands, warm too. You yell Sirius’ name excitedly, waving the hotdog above your head for him to see. He laughs, thumbs up until you bump into a man, smile fading, concern etching his brows.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking up. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” he smiles. It’s uncomfortable, not the smile of a friendly civilian.

You laugh. It’s polite, anyone can see that, but he leans closer. He smells like liquor, a disgusting discovery that has you subconsciously leaning away.

“You new around here?”

An actual laugh stumbles out of your lips. “London? No.”

He takes this as an entrance. “You should show me around.”

“No, thank you.” You try to walk past him. Towards Sirius who’s already walking over. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he grabs your arm, pulling you back. His fingers dig into your elbow painfully.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, pulling your arm away roughly. “don’t touch me.”

“C’mon,” The man slurs, fingers reaching for you again. “Don’t be-“

“Hello?” Sirius walks up, all stock. He grabs your forearm pulling you to him firmly, getting in between you and the man. He’s not much taller, but more intimidating in demeanor. “Do we have a problem?”

“No,” the man scoffs.

“Cause it looks like you put your hands on her.”

He scoffs again, clearly inebriated. “We were just talking.”

“Well, conversations over now.”

“She can make her own decisions.”

“Fuck off, bro.” Sirius waves his hand dismissively. Quickly, he walks you towards the boys who are peeking their eyes up from the Uber app.

“She was asking for it.”

Sirius reels back, dropping your forearm to shove the scary stranger in the chest. He pushes hard, the man losing his balance as he falls to the ground in a sickening thud. You gasp loudly, the unexpected conflict startling you. Vaguely you hear Sirius say something to him, but you’re too focused on the way the man looks up at you.

James and Remus are there in seconds, quick on Sirius’s heels. They pull at him, up and off the man. There were no real punches thrown, no real injuring blows, it wasn’t even enough to form a crowd. But still, you’re shaken. You shiver like a leaf under your James’ leather jacket, suddenly not feeling the warmth of the alcohol you’d consumed before the concert.

Slowly, you stumble back and way from your boys, to the bench next to the shitty bar you’d passed on your way home. That had been scary, but you’re safe; that had been scary, but Sirius dealt with it. You bring your hand up to your chest, setting the hotdog you had been eager to buy down next to you.

“Hi,” Remus pushes aside the hotdog to sit next to you. “Are you okay?”

You look up to the boy, blindingly beautiful in the streetlights and advertisements. “Yes.”

He pushes some stray hair from your face. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“I think it was more startling.” James sits on the other side of you, kissing your temple firmly. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“She’s okay.” Sirius gruffs from where he walks over.

He sounds cooler than he thinks he looks. He’s not bruised, bloodied, or bandaged, if he were he thinks he’d look cool enough to breeze over. But then again you look mad, so maybe he doesn’t want that.

“Don’t be upset,” Sirius crouches to your level. You’re in the arms of a solid Remus. “he was a creep.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He laughs roguishly. “I thought I looked good tousled.”

He does, and you know he’ll look good on the tabloids tomorrow too. Sirius black gives black eye? You sigh at the thought.

“You do.” James feeds Sirius.

“At least someone in this relationship cares for my ego.”

“You look good.”

“Oh, now you tell me.”

You laugh, letting Sirius stare at you like you hung the moon.

“Kiss em?” He pushes his knuckles in front of your lips. His fingers throb lightly, you can feel it on your lips.

“That was stupid.”

“C’mon,” Sirius’ eyes roll as he pulls you up. “You’ve got a hotdog to eat.”

#sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black blurb #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black fic #sirius fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius x you #sirius x reader #remus x sirius #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders imagine #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter blurb #james potter imagine #james x reader #james potter fic #james x you #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader

[fireflyinks]

good boy ⭒

reader x peeta mellark smut

a/n : i’m actually screaming this was so fun to write, pls repost if ya like it!! 💗

contains : sub peeta mellark, soft dom reader, praise kink, multiple rounds, peeta and the reader own a bakery, pinv, talk of having kids, no protection, riding

MATURE 18+

Peeta Mellark was a hard worker. Partly because that’s just who he was as an individual, but mainly because of his upbringing. The need to impress ran through his body as if it were his own blood. He craved praise, feened off of it as if it were a sweet, sweet nectar.

This notion was very present in his every day life. When he’d accidently burn a loaf or spill a bag of flour, his face would turn a rosey pink shade out of shame and he’s scramble to fix his mistake. His puppy dog eyes would shoot over to me, as if to scream “I’m sorry! I’m so very sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”, only to be met with a peck on the cheek and a whisper of “It’s okay, you’re fine”. His eyes would soften, and his hands would become less clammy, brow less furrowed, and cheeks even rosier.

If I dared to give him a slight compliment in the morning, the blonde’s head would be in the clouds for the rest of the day, almost in a trance from the mere thought of his special girl thinking he was admirable.

At first, I thought this whole ordeal was sort of sad, I mean depressing even. Peeta was just so love starved.

But then I learned how to use it to my advantage.

There he was, on top of me, trying his very best to impress me. His cock pistoned in and out vigorously, each one of my moans encouraging him. My back arched off of the sheets as I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to get him deeper.

He understood this rather quickly, trading speed for force and plunging himself directly into my core.

“Good boy.” I moaned out, almost automatically. His pace faltered for a moment, starstruck.

“Say that again.” He whimpered.

“Say what baby?” I questioned, confused as to why he’d stopped.

“Uh, please can you um call me a good boy again?” He mumbled. Something in his eyes had shifted, he looked almost helpless.

“Well…” I decided to tease him, rile him up more. “I can only do that if you act like one, so if you fuck me real good, yeah, you can be my good boy.”

Peeta nodded, beginning to thrust into me once again, determined to be a good boy.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” I cooed, gazing up at him with major ‘fuck me’ eyes.

His jaw slacked and he moaned deeply. “You’re so- fuck, you’re so hot.”

I giggled at the love drunk expression on his face. “Thank you, my handsome boy.”

I felt his cock twitch inside of me. God, praise really did have an effect on him.

“I- oh baby I’m gonna come.”

I moaned as he fucked me deeply, hitting my g-spot with each thrust.

“Go ahead, come inside of me like a good boy.”

His eyes rolled back into his head as he came with his new found permission. He pulled out immediately, connecting our lips before lying down beside me.

“That was- fuck, amazing.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

There was silence for a few moments before he realized.

He sprung into apology immediately.

“Holy shit baby, you didn’t come, did you? I’m so sorry love, I’ll do whatever you want, eat you out, fuck you again, whatever you want. I’m so stupid, I don’t know how I-“

I pressed my lips to his to shut him up as I climbed on top of him.

“No baby, you don’t have to ride me, I’m the one who messed up. Let me-“

“Peeta, I want you to be a good boy and listen to me.”

I angled his wet cock upward before sinking down onto it. I began working my hips.

“You are not stupid, you are so smart.” I bounced on him as I spoke, “you’re so good to me, everybody makes mistakes and that’s ok. You have gotten me off a million times before. You’re such a good fucking boy.”

He began to look away as blush creeped into his face. I grabbed his chin and forced him to look me in my eyes.

“You’re so handsome baby, ah fuck- you’re such a hard worker, and you’ll make an amazing father one day.”

My legs began to shake as I released on his lap, my cum flowing down his cock. I continued to ride him throughout my high.

“Now say it to me.” I ordered.

“You’re so beauti-“

I shook my head, “No, tell me about how much of a good boy you are.”

His face contorted, clearly too shy to say such things.

I touched his face lightly, “Peeta, good boys do what they’re told. Be a good boy.”

He nodded, “Um- I’m a good boy.” He whimpered, unsure of himself.

“I don’t believe you. Say it like you mean it.”

He cleared his throat, looking into my eyes. “I’m a good boy. I made a mistake and that’s ok. I’m so handsome and will make a really good father. Fuck- I’m gonna come.”

He released inside of me, painting my spongy walls white. His voice filled the room with pornographic noises. After letting him catch his breath, I crawled off of him. Peeta walked into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a damp rag and a smile on his face.

He began to slowly clean me up. I looked in between my thighs and laughed at the amount of semen that had collected.

“Jeez, if we don’t start being more careful, you might be an amazing father sooner than we’d imagined.”

He chuckled, pressing his lips onto mine. “I’d be ok with that.”

#the hunger games #peeta mellark #peeta mellark smut #praise #bakery au #fanfiction #smut #josh hutcherson #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader

[desos-records]

The part I appreciate the most in the Lockwood and Co show is how it handles depression and suicidal thoughts in teenagers. As a theme, it’s not often (ever) done well. Lockwood and Co is the only story I can think of that depicts it in a nuanced, realistic, non-romanticized way

but first, before I get into it: [if you’re in crisis or need someone to talk to and don’t want to/can’t use your national hotline, highly recommend Samaritans, genuinely saved my life] okay, let’s go

Lockwood is the most obvious, with his general disregard for his own life and admitted suicidal ideation. Lucy struggles with her self-worth and the intensity of the emotions she’s subjected to. George worries that he doesn’t belong, that there’s something useless or wrong about him. The show depicts these thoughts and feelings in a way that isn’t overblown or dramatized, it’s all but casual. Which is how it happens. Depression or suicidal thoughts don’t crash into you all at once, they creep into your life without you noticing

But more importantly (and again, something I’ve never seen anywhere else), the show also offers counterpoints to those thoughts and feelings. It shows that there is a way out, even though you may feel trapped and hopeless. This is crucial for the show’s target demographic. Bad media depictions of depression or suicide get internalized, contribute to the stigma, and make it harder for people to ask for help. This show doesn’t do that. This show tells its audience that, yes, things are scary and painful and it fucking sucks, but it’s not hopeless. And it says it so well

In the second episode, when Lucy wants to quit, she admits something that I’m almost certain she’s never told anyone

“sometimes I just think I’d be better off dead”

And when I watched this the first time, I expected Lockwood to react the way I’ve seen people react in my own life; with silence or panic or downright dismissal. But he didn’t. He stays calm and he says something that is so so important to hear when you’re struggling under the weight of feelings like this

“I understand that”

Saying this tells someone several things: that you’re on their side, they aren’t strange or monstrous for feeling like this, and that you’re not going to attack or abandon them because of it. And you can see the impact it has on Lucy, the way her face clears. She went from struggling to breathe and near tears to calm and steady. It’s no mistake that in this moment we hear his and Lucy’s theme for the first time (those simple, beautiful guitar strings)

The next thing he says is also important

“and it’s not true”

Simple, to the point, directly addressing her feelings, and (the most common mistake) doesn’t make it about him. Telling someone that you love them or that they’d be upset to lose you might sound nice, and it can be later on in the conversation, but in a moment like this, it’s infinitely more helpful to confront the thought itself

A similar moment in the first book stuck with me too, when they’re underneath Combe Carey Hall and Lucy almost steps into the well. What she’s hearing in her head (and the general phenomenon of malaise that ghosts produce) is very similar to depressive or suicidal thoughts. Before she can fall, Lockwood pulls her back

“no, Lucy, that’s not the way it’s going to be”

Depressive and suicidal thoughts deal in absolutes, so sometimes it takes an absolute to counter it

In the last episode, George has that heart-breaking moment where he says all the awful things he thinks about himself, partly because of the influence of the boneglass and Bickerstaff, but it’s also been building up, there in the background. Increasingly, it’s Lockwood and Lucy working together and George working on his own, which picks at old wounds (engineer, engineer, engineer, weirdo). He bonds with Joplin because he feels like she understands him in a way the others don’t

“it’s nice to have someone to show off to”

But Lucy pushes back against all that because she sees herself in all the ugly things George is saying, because she’s felt that way too. She understands that. She’s so surprised and horrified to hear him saying those things, resigning himself to dying down there, she’s not going to let him go on believing them

“you’re not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you are”

“you’re the best of us”

“we are not losing you, Georgie”

Flo called him that earlier too, but Lucy wasn’t there for that and coming unprompted from her it sounds so much like something you might call your slightly annoying younger brother. She’s so absolute about it all, with no opening for doubt, and you can see something like surprise on George’s face (but also pain because now Lucy’s in danger too)

For all Lucy knows, the boneglass will kill her. I don’t think for a second she genuinely believes her talent will protect her; she told Joplin that to protect George. It’s unclear when exactly she came up with the plan to use the skull, but she was willing to risk it anyway. And she knows, she knows, George will blame himself for this (because she would too, if it were the other way around), but even then, she’s very clear

“this isn’t your fault”

Their whole scene down in the catacombs is two kids trying to keep each other alive, physically obviously, but on the inside as well. And, oh god, George almost crashing down next to Lucy after he’s knocked over the boneglass, trying to wake her up. His voice

“Lucy, Lucy, it’s me, it’s me, say something, speak to me”

I think it’s down in those catacombs that George and Lucy really understand each other for the first time. In their own ways, they’re both curious and suspicious about the Problem and what causes it, trying to learn more about it (and stressing Lockwood out in the process). They both left their families; they both struggle with feeling strange and different than everyone around them. That connection pulls them both back from the edge

Lockwood, for all his confidence, is practically in crisis or was fairly recently (I suspect living with George helped). It’s fairly common, actually, for someone suicidal to overcompensate with an exterior shell to hide it, which can manifest in different ways depending on the person (they may not even realize they’re doing it, I didn’t)

And I love how the show handles it. He’s not made into this dark, tragic figure. He’s so full of life it hurts. He jokes around with George and Flo, fights with Kipps, admires Fairfax. He has dreams (plans) for the future. He’s struggling with trauma, they all are, but he’s not Broken™ in the way similar leading characters are often made out to be, in the way we often fear we are

And, of course, there’s Lucy, a wreaking ball through the precarious balance of Lockwood’s life. It’s not so much that she gives him a reason to live (although she definitely helps), but she holds him accountable in a way no one else does. This is the difficult part of recovery that no one talks about. Having people care for you (George) and sympathize with you (Flo) is great and necessary, especially early on. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself and the noise in your head (you have to open your door on the landing)

What that looks like is complicated and messy and different for every person, but seeing it played out in a story is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. This is a difficult thing for anyone to learn (many adults never even try)

That shot of George, Lucy, Lockwood (and Kipps) rising up on the catafalque sums it all up for me. Each of them fell into darkness alone and rose out of it together. They inspired each other to fight and win their individual battles, even when they couldn’t be there to help

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #quill kipps #lockwood and lucy #lucy and lockwood #locklyle #lockwood netflix #flo bones #She speaks!

[luveline]

hi jadeee!!! :D i read the fic abt poly!marauders with depressed reader and i was wondering if you could do one with aaron? for example r having trouble getting out of bed or doing small tasks and her mental health getting bad again, i don’t know if its just me but i rarely find these kind of fics <3

hi gorgeous i hope this is ok! fem, 1k

“How are you feeling?” Aaron asks, patting his face dry with a towel. 

You rub sleep from your eyes, catching Aaron's eyes in the mirror over his broad shoulders. You offer him a tired sort of smile.

“Come here,” he says. 

You do as he says. Aaron's getting dressed for work, and it's miraculous to have you up and out of bed before him considering how depressed you've been lately. Your abdomen presses to his.

“What are you going to do today?” he asks, wetting a washcloth in the sink. He feels the temperature of the water for a few seconds. 

“Um…” You close your eyes in preparation. “I have to shower. And I want to… make you dinner. So I'll do that.” He brings the washcloth to your face and rubs at your skin gently, little rivers of warm water creeping down your face and neck. “Is my appointment today?” 

“No, sweetheart. It's not until Tuesday.” He cleans your nose, your sleep-crusted lashes. “Why not have a bath? That way you can sit. You could bring your laptop in here and watch a movie.” 

“That…” You run out of steam as he wipes the last stretch of your cheek gently. 

If you can't manage a shower today, Aaron will help when he comes home. He never makes it seem like an obstacle or an imposition to help you through these things, treating it like any other hour of time spent together. “Dinner would be nice. But make sure you set the timer if you use the oven. I'll worry.” 

“Yeah.” 

He passes you your toothbrush and toothpaste. You squeeze it out onto the bristles as he sets about neatening your hair for the day, fingertips gentle on the soft skin of your hairline. You force the toothbrush into your mouth and start out slowly. You feel a disconnect between you and your actions, his touch the only tether, and every brush takes effort you don't have. 

“I didn't say good morning,” he says apologetically, rubbing your shoulders with some loving roughness. “How did you sleep?” 

Sleep is a big blob you don't have words for. “Good morning,” you say through toothpaste, leaning your face into his arm. 

He kisses whatever bit of your face he can reach. “Good morning.” 

“Sorry if I'm dirty.” 

“You aren't honey, you're fine. We just need to keep on top of it.” 

He pulls away to let you finish your half job, offering you a floss pick that you take on automatic but can't force yourself to use. It stays in your hand all the way to the breakfast table, where you get served sliced fruits and toast with chocolate spread. It's the kind with lots of calories, to keep you going if you can't manage your own lunch. Aaron makes you lunch most of the time if you can't do it yourself and leaves it in a tupperware in the fridge, but actually getting up to reheat it is another thing. You usually do it if your stomach aches but not otherwise. Already, you're wanting to go back to bed. Another day of letting him down. 

He gives you your medication divider, sipping at his own mug of coffee. “Jack's coming back tonight. Are you excited?” 

“So excited,” you say honestly. “Did he have a good time at, uh, Mason's?” 

“I think so. They went to Pizza Hut buffet. He said we have to go for his birthday.” He smiles at you from over the lip of his mug, eyes all manner of tender. “He asked if you're still sleeping.” 

“Don't let him worry about me,” you say, half-pleading. 

“No, I won't. You know I won't. He's just noticed you're not feeling your best, but it's not a bad thing. He wants to tuck you in.” 

“He said that?” 

Aaron nods with a smile. “He misses you when he doesn't see you.” 

“I miss him… I'm sorry. About all of this. I really…” You look down at your hands. Toast crumbs cling to your fingers, little white ants that catch hold when you attempt to shake them off. You wipe them in your pants. “I promise I'm trying.” 

He rounds the table. Takes your face into his hand, but doesn't force your head up. “That's not in question,” he says in his dulcet tone. “We want you to feel as good as you can. It doesn't matter how long it takes.” 

“I just want to be better.” I just want this feeling to be over. 

He hums into himself, his big hand a warm, steady thing where it covers your cheek. He's so solid. 

“Listen,” he says, bending to meet your eye. “Today, I only want you to do three things. Do you think you can do that? If you can't, I won't be mad, but I want you to try.” 

“Okay.” 

“Firstly, what you said about dinner? That sounds nice. Being active is good for you.” He measures your reaction. You've schooled your features into a determined seriousness that makes him smile. “Alright. Secondly, you take that nice long bath.” 

Your seriousness falters. “Sorry.” 

“No, no, don't be. It's not like that, sweetheart, I just want you to stay healthy, and to feel good about yourself. That's why I need you to eat lunch too.” 

“Is that the third thing?” 

“No, the third thing is to give me a kiss because I'm about to be late for work.” 

You tip your head up and he kisses you sweetly as always. You let him fawn and fret for a few minutes before he really has to leave, and then it's your fault he's late, calling him back in for a last hug. To be fair to you, it's a hug you really, really need. 

“Call me if you need to,” he says, his cheek against your temple. “I'll come home. I promise.” 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[tallprinxess]

Depressed & needy Geto. +18

content: ¿cnc? smut, downgrading, bit of bdsm and spanking, <3 all tht fun stuff! 『my first time writing, this has been in my drafts for months(;_;)』. ꨄ reposts r rlly appreciated ꨄ

Geto returned from one of his 'mission’ feeling down, thinking he has no control or power over anything.. until he remembers he has you.

his mind and thoughts were elsewhere, he didn't think to go out of his way to call or see you. such an insignificant monkey wasting his time. 'why bother with her?" he thought to himself that morning.

on the other hand, you didn't even think too much into the amount of time he hadn't called you for. maybe he was just way more busy than usual. so you carried on w/ yourself that day, walking down the strip mall with some friends, you catch a glimpse of a familiar figure across the street.. Geto talking to a brown haired girl. confused.. staring at him, jealousy flickers across your face before your friends rushed you off into a store w/ them..

‘wonder if he saw me..' you thought to yourself..

course he saw you. he wasn't expecting to. he didn’t.. want to…

CREAK

later that night you swiftly turn your head to face your apartment window. breaking your thoughts as someone creeps in, immediately recognizing the figure.

"G-geto?" you questioned, eyebrow slightly raised looking at him stepping through your window unannounced. he was dressed in a grey tee casual black pants and a belt..? he doesn't usually wear belts.

"a-ah, scared me..” you sighed, rubbing the remaining cream into your thigh.

“Seriously you can't keep popping into my window like that, Geto. you don’t even text or-" before you could finish, a big strong hand slowly covered your mouth, the width of it reaching from one side of your soft jaw to the other, clamping w/ a grip.

"talk 't much." Geto sighed, his voice low.

your body tensed a bit, slowly looking back up at him. as he gives no time to react, pulling you up off your bed by the small of your jaw, his grip demanding. forced to meet his tall figure. dark purple eyes that lazily bore into yours as your gaze flickered across his darken features, long loose hair framing his face. emotions evident in his eyes.

"take off 'ur clothes fa me, pretty ." he interrupted in a low, deep tone as his rough hand slowly moved from your mouth, brushing his thumb over your plump bottom lip.

"Geto.." you barely breath out. “t—take off my clothes?..i don't under-"

‘HHHhh’ Geto sighed loudly, yanking his hand from your face. now rubbing his fingers over his eyes, frustration evident as he spoke.

"-didn't fucken stutter bro. you heard me." he spat back, still rubbing his eyes. clearly he didn't have his emotions in check. there was no room for arguing here, its not like you never gotten naked for him before. with slow shaky hands, you slid your pj shorts off, letting them hit on the floor then slowly pulling the bottom of your white pj top up-

“tsk.” Geto groaned, clicking his tongue reaching for the middle of your top ripping the fabric and binds in one motion. you invariably jerk away, covering up but that swiftly changes as he grasp your wrist. lifting his grey tee w/ the other hand biting it up as he grabs his belt gripping and yanking it off. what’s he gonna do w/ the belt?

“wanna see this pretty little body squirming under me.” he mumbles, his big hand still on your wrist bringing it to your back, forcing you onto your bed face first as he ties your small wrists together with his belt… oh.. that’s why he wore a belt, jus for you <3.

looking back at him as he binds your arms “ok ok, look g-geto.. you can talk to me. something is clearly wrong with yo—”

“EEKK-”

“i said you talk to much…like it better when those noises come out.” you couldn’t even process his words as another slap to the same cheek comes to your ass. “MMMHH” bitting the bed, your back jerks a deeper arch.

you can’t think to breath when he sends another slap to the soft flesh of your ass, griping and kneading into it. your pretty little head jolting up then back into your bed, bitting your sheets. the skin of your ass hot and red from his hand prints.

“fuckkk babygirl, wet already for me? put that arch higher. lemme see it.” Geto groans, griping your other cheek, lifting your ass higher then spreading your wet folds apart w/ his thick fingers. “ha.. if i would ‘ave known you were such a slut for a lil bit of spanking, trust i would have been fuckin done it.” he mumbles still spreading you open, looking at the pink he was finna fuck into. he was so right, yea, something was definitely wrong w/ him but.. shit.. this was turning you on sooo much. tilting your head back a little to meet his gaze, lashes trickled with tiny tears. his eyes looking from your pussy to you. he couldn’t help but grin.

“oh come on, don’t look at me like that love. you wanna make me feel better, hm? you wanna make me happy right?” he asked still kneading into your soft red cheek, that cute ass grin on his face that he knows will get you to do anything for him. you nod of course.. fuck, he just looked so needy and alone. he looked back to your wet cunt, still spreading your folds.

“Good girl.” he purred.

“ion think you need prepping. i mean, you know my shape and size yes?” Geto simply said, pulling his pants down bitting the bottom of his tee, pulling it up again. clearly he was trying to convince himself because you were always tight, especially when he couldn’t come see you for days. but today he didn’t care about your comfort, you were going to ultimately enjoy that dick like you always do.

“a—ah.. geto wait you can’t jus—ahhhh~” your mouth melted into a ‘0’ shape as he slowly slid his fat tip into your tight, gummy walls. his hand gripping the hot flesh of your ass. you were expecting him to fuck right into you but no. he wanted to take his time, to see his shit going in and out.

“fuckkkkkk~” Geto moaned as he stroked into you, head tilting up, his purple eyes rolling back. “yea, missed this pussy right here. shit got me feeling better already.” he barely mumbled out as his strokes got deeper, he fuckin loved watching his length disappear and reappear from inside you. coated in cream already. your walls slowly adjusting to his size again but your brain couldn’t. since your hands were still tied to the back with his belt, you were forced to take his length in full with nothing to grab or hold. moans and gasp rolling off you lips. the only thing you could do was push at his lower belly, hoping that could at least give you some room to move but baby that only made it worst.

“oh uh uh,” Geto breathes, shaking his head slightly then griping your bound wrists with one hand. “you gon take what i give. no runnin.” now pulling at your wrist, leaning back some as he fucked deeper inside. FAP FAP the noises your cunt was making for him bro... those sweet wet scrunching sounds… your ass bounced and recoiled off his pelvis, stretched out juices connecting the two of you. “f-fuck baby you’re so deep, Ahhh~” you whined, throwing ur head back lookin him in his narrow eyes. his shit was deep, hitting that spot he hadn’t hit in days.

“mhm, jus like that babygirl. take it. make me feel better.” he mumbled, bitting his lip.

#geto suguru #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk x poc!reader #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jjk hcs #toji x reader #toji smut #ryomen sukuna #toji x y/n #geto scenarios #geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #jujutsu toji #dilf toji #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n

[charliemwrites]

Three to Flee

Commission from the very sweet @ignoreprotocol

Someone leaves the door open and the pets get out.

Content Warning: Established kidnapping situation, unhealthy relationships, collaring

Author's Note: This does not mean Keeper/Kept is back. As far as I'm concerned, that story is finished, but this was a special case.

Shockingly, it’s not Feral that brings it up first.

The girls are having a little picnic at the edge of Johnny and Shy Thing’s yard, shaded by the tall trees. The men are chatting on the porch, sharing cigars and whiskey, far from earshot. Good behavior has earned them this bit of privacy, and so far, they’ve just used it to exchange keeper notes and offer bedroom advice.

“I can’t believe you don’t even have a fence,” Good Girl muses, glancing at the forest beyond. Her own yard is well fortified. It’s not just the sturdy, unclimbable fence, but also the monitors and floodlights connected to it.

Shy Thing sheepishly mentions a failed escape attempt several months earlier, a mad dash through the woods that ended with her dirty and disciplined. That prompts Good Girl to confess her own ill-fated getaway, a midnight attempt at sneaking out that resulted in a bruised ass.

Feral listens with her head cocked, nibbling at her apple slices. When their eyes turn to her, she shrugs.

“I haven’t tried to leave in a while,” she admits, “but I don’t think it would go well.”

Good Girl frowns. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Feral snorts. “You’ve met Simon, haven’t you?”

All eyes turn to the boys on the porch. And there’s Simon, watching. Feral makes a rude gesture his way and they can see his shoulders shaking with a chuckle.

“Besides… it’s not so bad,” she muses. “Most of the time.”

Good Girl sits back, expression twisting. “I don’t want it to be ‘not so bad,’ I want it to be good. And I want it that way all the time.”

Shy Thing shifts. “What’s so wrong with John…?”

Good Girl huffs and begins picking at threads in the blanket. “He’s… fine. I mean, he would be if I could just leave. Don’t you miss being free?”

Feral hums.

“I… I miss going to the store when I wanted… or just… walking around town,” Shy Thing admits slowly. “I miss coffee shops and parks.”

Good Girl groans in agreement. “I miss the internet. It’s like being a fucking teenager again, having all my activity monitored.”

With a little more momentum now, Shy Things continues, “I haven’t been alone in months. Just… by myself. Doing whatever I want.”

“And not having rules,” Good Girl adds, sipping at the mojito John put in a little travel cup for her. “Fucking… sick of having a bedtime and chores and a fucking collar. Aren’t you sick of it?”

It’s directed at both of them, but Shy Thing nods, hands fidgeting.

“It gets to be a lot sometimes,” she mumbles, “I think I warmed up to Johnny out of pure exhaustion.”

Good Girl huffs again, worked into a proper fuss now. “And they’re so smug about it. Like we’re just these good, trained pets.”

Feral pipes up, “We could leave together.”

Both girls swivel to her with varying degrees of shock, hope, and disbelief.

“You said you didn’t think you could get past Simon,” Good Girl says.

Feral snorts and stretches out on her stomach in a mottled patch of sunlight creeping through the leaves.

“Yeah, I couldn’t on my own,” she explains, “but between the three of us…”

It’s uncomfortably simple when it happens. They just need to wait until the next big mission.

All three of them beg (or in Feral’s case, demand) to spend that time together while the keepers are away. It’s not unusual for the creatures to meet up when one or more of the men are gone. With all three off on a mission this time, they sniffle about being lonely and wanting company. That their houses feel too big and empty, that cooking for one is depressing.

Johnny caves instantly; John agrees on the stipulation that Good Girl is on her best behavior before he leaves. Simon, of course, is a foregone conclusion.

They go to Simon’s house. It’s the safest of the three homes and has the most space. Not to mention the girls will have some sort of access to the outside with the enclosed sunporch.

On the day of the mission, Good Girl and Shy Thing show up with fully packed bags, ready for their extended “sleepover” with Feral. The pets see their boys off, behave as normal for the cameras until Shy Thing gets the “heading out” message from Johnny. That’s the greenlight.

Feral has her own bag of things that she packs quickly and expertly. They fill a fourth bag with nonperishable provisions, just in case. Each of them has cash that they filched last minute from their keepers’ wallets – knowing they wouldn’t check them just before a classified mission.

The girls know it’ll be a day or two before anyone checks on them. Even Kyle is away with the team this time.

And then it all comes down to walking out the door.

The front door is, of course, locked. All the windows have alarms on them, and so does the garage door. But the sunporch…

“He didn’t lock the door,” Feral realizes as it swings open. And the alarm only engages when it’s locked.

All three of them take a single step out into the open air. And stop. Stare at each other a little moon-eyed.

They just left.

They stride at a quick clip around the side of the house and down the road. It’ll be an hour-long walk into town, but they have thick coats and each other for company. They chatter as they follow the pavement, just within the tree line out of caution. Pretend its giddy celebration at their escape and not a distraction from the creeping mix of dread and uncertainty beginning to simmer within each of them.

When they reach town, they blend into the crowds, weaving through the streets until they find a low-end hotel. It won’t be anything fancy, but at least it seems clean enough. Good Girl does all the talking with the receptionist (also a lady, thank god) since Feral and Shy Thing are jittery from so many people. They get a one-bed room with easy access to the fire exit.

 It’s only after they’re inside that reality sinks its claws in.

They’re free. For the first time in months, they’re outside with no one standing behind their shoulders or holding their arms. No one to appease, nothing to behave for.

And Shy Thing throws up in the toilet.

“This is scary,” she wheezes, eyes watering. “I’m scared. I want—”

Though she stops, the other two know what the end of that sentence was. Good Girl rubs her back.

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to find us,” she soothes like she doesn’t know why Shy Thing is really scared.

Neither Shy Thing nor Feral reply. The answer hangs in the air, unspoken. We want them to.

Feral, feeling restless, goes back into the main room and begins rummaging through her bag.

“What are you doing?” Good Girl asks, giving Shy Thing privacy to clean up.

“Looking for something to cut that off with.” Feral nods to Good Girl’s collar. “It’s probably chipped or something. We should have taken it off at home.”

She stops as the blood drains from her fellow creature’s face. They stare at each other across the tiny motel room, the weight of their successful plan pressing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“I…” Good Girl rasps, “I…”

“You don’t want to.”

Her eyes well with tears. “No.”

Feral drops her bag and crumples to the ground, tugging her knees up to her chest.

“Why don’t I want to?” Good Girl whispers, curling her arms around herself. “This… this was my idea. I complain all the time. Why do I miss him already?”

Shy Thing appears in the doorway, sniffling. “I-I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t imagine life without Johnny. I… I don’t know if I want to have a life without Johnny.”

And Feral, still on the floor and trembling all over, just looks at them with huge tears running down her face.

Needless to say, when three rather miffed keepers in full combat gear throw the door open at 3am, they are not expecting armfuls of distraught creatures sobbing into their chests.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #commissioned work #commission #keeper/kept au #keeper price #keeper ghost #keeper johnny

[lovefoolholland]

about you - theodore nott x reader

summary: the train reminded theo of you. thestrals reminded theo of you. what did theo remember about you that wasn’t as heartwrenching? 

warnings: angst, a couple of lines from little women (greta gerwig’s movie) 

a/n: i can’t stop picturing theo as a the 1975 type of guy. like, he gives off matty healy’s vibes, you know? 

English is not my first language! 

The platform didn’t quite spark memories of you, but boy did the compartment he and his friends shared sparkle something.

“Theo!” exclaimed Pansy Parkinson, clearly confused by the looks on Theodore Nott’s face “Are you alright?” 

That was an understatement. 

“Indeed” he answered instead. 

“You don’t seem alright” Blaise inquired, and Pansy gave him a glance. 

“I’m just tired” Theo said, rolling his eyes. 

“Tired of spending all summer thinking of Y/N, I’m sure,” Draco’s voice spilled like venom, and Theo turned to look at him with a dark demeanor in his eyes “am I wrong?” 

“Shut up Draco” Pansy said, and then looked at Theo with an apologetic smile. 

“It’s fine,” Theo heard himself answer “but you’re incredibly wrong. Apparition always tires me.” 

No one mentioned Y/N again, but Theo could feel the tension in the air. 

The compartment reminded him of the smell of freshly baked cookies, and how – somehow – you always managed to smell like that. You’ve mentioned before that you’d stayed over at the Weasley’s for a couple of days before going back to school, but it had never occurred to him until later in the relationship that cookies were something Molly Weasley surely did the morning her children (and her friends’ children) left for Hogwarts. 

Now, he missed the smell and he missed having his head dipped into the top of your head while his arms tangled on yours as you read some boring book that had to do with the classes to come. 

“We’re here mate” said Blaise when everyone but him had gotten out of the compartment. 

“Thanks” he said, and watched as a bunch of students started walking towards the thestrals that always drove everyone to the castle. 

He didn’t find you in the crowd. 

He got up and got out of the train in order to get to the castle in no time. He didn’t want to keep depressing himself over his failed relationship and the memories everything in Hogwarts brought him upon with. 

At least not until he saw your wild hair waiting for a carriage. 

“Hey” he said, and you couldn’t help but jump in place once you saw him. 

“Oh, hi” your voice was as soft as the day he left you “, waiting for a thestral?” 

He stared at you for a solid minute, watching how you curved your hands in your robes and a shy blush creeped up your cheeks. He then nodded. 

“Yeah,” you nodded along “how long have you been here?” 

“Not that long” your voice came out squeaky, noticeably ashamed “I just got off the train. I fell asleep.” 

“What?” he asked, quite interested now “Why? Didn’t your friends wake you up or…?” 

“I was alone” you said, pulling your lips together. 

Of course you were. 

“Right,” he said, uncomfortable “we should probably start walking. 

“We should, yeah.” 

The two of you made your path down the castle in silence, both of you unconsciously thinking of the other. 

Theo remembered the first time he got on one of these carriages. He was incredibly nervous, and that’s when a girl with a bright smile sat next to him and started asking him questions. Just… Asking. She didn’t know about his nerves, if anything, she was interested in meeting new people and getting to know them. 

That girl was you. 

Four years later, during the Triwizard Tournament year, he had told you about the Yule Ball during your ride to the castle and had noticed the way your cheeks flushed when Draco mentioned he was going to ask Pansy to go with him, pretty proud of himself. 

Days later, he asked you, and you went together. 

Now it all seemed like a daydream, a cruel, plain daydream he had the day he told you he didn’t want a relationship with you anymore. How he told you that anyway or another, you were an obstacle in his life. 

How stupid of him. 

“How has your family been?” you asked, head tilting towards him. 

He frowned. 

“Father’s been pretty busy. And mother's portrait has been asking about you.” 

Of course he had to say that. 

He looks up to you to find a startled, yet satisfied expression on your face. He feels as if hot porridge has been spilled all over his face and neck because he knows he has turned red out of embarrassment. 

“Send them my greetings” you simply say before accelerating your pace “, come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.” 

“Wait, T/N,” the lights of the path leading to the school flick a little, and you stop in your tracks as he reaches to you “how have you been?” 

You open your mouth and then close it. It almost seems as if you want to tell him everything about your summer but… But you can’t. 

“Good,” you say, and start walking, slower this time, to the castle “my parents have been pretty busy too. The Ministry is going mad over the news of the return of You-Know-Who.” 

“Yes, of course,” he says, and then slightly smiles “did you stay at the Weasleys?”

He’s met with silence. You look at him with suspicion, and he notices.��

“What?” 

“What is the point of you asking these questions?” 

He scoffs. 

“Alright, sorry. I won’t be asking anything else.” 

“No, Theo– I mean, Theodore,” your breath hitches in your throat “it doesn’t bother me. At all. You know it never will.” 

He knows what you’re asking. 

But why? 

As the two of you step into the entrance of the castle and Flitwick tells you to register yourselves, Theo realizes why. 

“I’ve missed you” he confesses, and notices you try to evade his eyes “, Y/N–”

You take a sharp breath before speaking. 

“Stop it,” she says, and he notices the tears forming on your eyes “Theo, you’re being mean.” 

“Mean?” he asks, eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, mean” you emphasize in the word, and suddenly the two of you find yourselves right at the doors of the Great Hall. 

Theo realizes neither has the intention of going in. 

“I’m telling you how I feel, I don’t see how that’s mean.” 

“No,” you say again, and now inevitably make eye contact. He instantly regrets, you’re on the verge of tears “you don’t get to say this, not after hurting me so much.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Not when I haven’t forgotten about you, not completely” you hiss, and take a step back. 

Theo’s mind runs wild. 

“You haven’t forgotten about me?” 

The choice of words amuses him. How can you forget all that you’ve been through? From sleeping in each other’s arms on the train to the sight of you wearing captivating robes to the Yule Ball, dancing until the last song ran out. 

“No, okay? I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but I can’t” you say, tears sprinting down your cheeks as they turn red “I miss you on the train, I miss your arms around me, and I never know what to think about but…” 

“You think about me” he finishes off, and takes a step towards you “, do you think I’ve forgotten about you?” 

He knows you know that’s impossible. 

You put your lips together tightly and look up at him with a frown. 

“No.” 

“That’s right,” he says, cupping your cheeks with your hands. He cleans the tears with his thumb “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” 

You close your eyes once you feel his skin against yours. 

He silently dips his head and kisses your forehead. You still smell like freshly baked cookies. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You simply nod. 

He sighs and dips even more, sliding his hands against the back of your neck before kissing you more feverishly than before. Both of your heads spin as every student storms out of the Great Hall, and even a poltergeist calls you two out. 

“I will never forget you,” he assured you “all I can think about… Live about, is you. I’ve never stopped.” 

You smile and nod, opening your eyes and clenching him by the robes surrounding his body. 

“Never let go, Theodore Nott.”

#the 1975 #about you #harry potter #wizarding world #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott one shot #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theodore nott angst #theodore nott blurb #theo nott fanfic #theo nott fanficion #theo nott imagine #theo nott one shot #theo nott fluff #theo nott smut #theo nott angst #theo nott blurb #draco malfoy #golden trio #slytherin

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /three/ Azriel x reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two

The night of Calanmai came. You were buzzing with energy. You dressed in old clothes, and wrapped yourself in Lucien’s cloak, trying to hide your scent as best as possible. To anyone else out there, it would look like you belonged to the fox. That you were his and no one else’s. Which would also keep you safe from anyone creeping a little too close. 

“Stay with me, do you understand?” Lucien questioned. 

“I know, I know.”

The beat of the drums outside grows louder and louder. You could feel them in your soul, begging you to run out and join the fun. You ached with anticipation. You were going to leave this dreaded house and finally see your brother again. 

You just wanted to lay eyes on him and know that he was still in there somewhere, and wasn’t the monster everyone believed him to be. Certainly he was doing what he had to do to survive? Certainly your sweet caring brother was still in there, buried deep within? 

“Come, we don’t have much time,” Lucien said, leading you out of your rooms. 

You shiver against the cool night. Though you weren’t sure if it was the cold that was making you shiver, or the thought of seeing him again. You couldn’t tell him who you were, couldn’t allow him to realize you were still alive. 

He would destroy the spring court and with it any hopes of beating Amerantha at her own game. If Feyre could just admit that she was in love with Tamlin, which somehow you had a feeling she was slowly falling for the Lord of Spring, everything would change. Maybe you could go home again. 

You longed for home. Longed for Valaris, and the group of fae that you called family. You longed for Cassian and Mor constantly fighting and joking. You longed for Amren and her grumpy nature. And Azriel…your Az. The person who seemed to understand you more than anyone else in the world. You longed for him most of all.  He was so quiet and understanding, and so beautiful in every possible way. You wished you would have told him. But you were still just a child. 

You were still so young when Tamlin and his family took you. Barely even eighteen, but you aged slower somehow, so while you were of age, you barely looked sixteen. So small and young. So much of your life stripped away from you. 

You feel Rhys before you spot him. You feel the night rippling off of him, calling your own powers out to play. The headache slowly sets in at the base of your skull as you try to reign in your own shadows and darkness. 

He’s talking to Feyre, and for a moment you smile, because you could see them together in another life. Perhaps if she’d been born a Fae. Perhaps if Rhys needed to be the one to break Amerantha’s curse, and not Tamlin. Because you hated the idea of Tamlin getting to be happy with Feyre once this was all said and done. You hated the fact that she would live out her few good years with that beast. 

“What do we have here?” His silky voice questioned, violet eyes looking you over, “Already have a play thing, Lucien?” 

“Not quite,” I spoke up, daring him to recognize me from beneath the glamor.

you could feel his mental claws scratching against my shields, looking for a way in. He would not find one, of course. Having been trained to block him out since you were old enough to understand the concept.

His eyes narrowed at you, taking a step closer towards you. Meanwhile, Lucien hissed at you to stay put while he dragged Feyre back to the manor house, leaving you alone with Rhys. You ached to tell him, but you couldn’t. If you told him you’d be dead before the next moon rise. 

“Who are you?” 

You bite back the bile that rises in your throat, “Lucien’s…friend.”

“No, you aren’t.”

You only smirk and try to force your way into his head again, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. 

“If you were his friend, you wouldn’t be full of faebane.”

“Maybe I choose this.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he tisks, “Poor little lamb, stuck in spring.”

“I’m far from a little lamb,” You hiss back, hating that you sound and feel weak. 

You are weak, in every way that matters now, you’re weak. And Rhys can’t do anything to help you. He can’t take you away from here, he can’t save you. Because he can’t even save himself. He’s stuck under Amerantha’s thumb, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. Your only hope is that poor human girl to actually fall in love with Tamlin. What a fate that would be. 

Lucien returns, dropping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You had to do something, anything to try to let him know you were alive. That you were here. You were right there, just silently begging for him to notice you. So you did the only thing you could think of and flung out what little power you had left. You scratched down his mental shields, already feeling sweat beading on your forehead. 

At this point he’d turned his back, ready to move away from the boring conversation. But your little outburst caused him to spin back around and stalk towards you. You thought he might go for your throat, might kill you right there for daring to do anything to him but he didn’t. 

“I could kill you right where you stand,” He hisses at you, “Without breaking a sweat.”

“Ah, but you’d have to catch me first,” you struggle to say from the strain of the faebane, “I hear I’m like the wind.”

His eyes widen, hands reaching for you, before Lucien took hold of you and dragged you away. You were back in the manor house before you could even think. Lucien started to yell at you, drowning out the sound of the drums outside, which were growing louder and louder. The rite would start soon, Lucien would be needed.

“What did you say to him?” He demands. 

“Nothing, you heard me.”

“No, that meant something!” 

“Just something I used to say as a child,” You shake your head, “I’m going to bed. Have fun.”

You wave him off as you go. You felt heavy and tired. But somehow so invigorated. Your brother was still your brother, you knew that. Deep down he was still Rhys, and not the monster everyone believed him to be. Deep down, he was still there, just waiting to come back out like everyone else. 

That night you dreamt of your wings. Flying over Valaris with Rhys and your mother. Laughing with Cas and Az at the House of Wind. You dreamt about everything, and at the same time nothing. 

“I’m going to get you, little star!” Rhys laughed from behind you as you ran away from him. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” You yell, jumping off of the ledge, “I’m like the wind!” 

The air catches your wings and pulls you along. You smile and giggle as you pivot to avoid Rhys again. The wind whips through your hair as you fly, you don’t bother trying to stop it. It only makes you laugh harder.  You feel so free as you fly higher and higher over the city. You wonder for a second if they can hear you laughing down in the Rainbow. 

You’d have to stop back down there today, you wanted to listen to the music some more. Maybe purchase a painting or two for your rooms. Maybe you could convince Cas or Az to come with you. 

Arms reach around you, causing you to shriek. Rhys’ laugh filled your ears and you relaxed into his arms. It was rare to have moments like this now. Your father kept him so busy, much to yours and your mother’s dismay. 

He pulls you in close and laughs as you nudge him with your elbow, “I love you, little star,” He whispers to you above the wind. 

“I love you too, Rhys.”

When you wake the following morning, you have tears in your eyes. Your pillow is wet with them. You do not get out of bed that day.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @saltedcofeesotch @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @queerqueenlynn

#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

[sanjismywhore]

Nothing To Be Ashamed Of

Insecure! Carlos Oliveira x Reader

Warnings: Nsfw/suggestive, gn reader, short fic

Carlos is insecure about his dad bod, but you provide reassurance.

————————————————————————

Laundry basket in hand, you quietly tip-toed around the house picking up dirty clothes along the way. As you entered your bedroom, you were about to bend down to pick up a couple of shirts. You paused your motions once you noticed Carlos standing in front of the full-length mirror, in the corner of the room.

He stood shirtless, turning to the side occasionally as if searching for markings on his skin. His hands roamed over himself absently, as he always did when he was in the process of shaving off a few pounds.

He glanced out at you through a reflection that distorted his face. “Hey,” he greeted in a low voice while continuing to inspect himself intently.

“What are you doing?” you asked after a few moments of him just staring and examining himself in silence. However, he gave you no response. He just continued to stand there.

His shoulders drooped a bit as he let out a soft sigh, almost like he was sulking. You couldn’t see his face in the reflection because of the way he was positioned, but you could tell something was off.

You stepped forward to set the laundry basket on the floor beside him. He didn't appear to hear you until you spoke again. “You alright?”

He slowly turned to face you with an expression of disappointment. “I’ve been putting on some weight.” He muttered with insecurity laced all over his voice, “Can you tell?” He asked anxiously, gesturing to his chest and stomach, indicating which part of him seemed larger, heavier.

But you didn’t see much of a difference. Sure, his muscles weren’t as defined as they used to be but they were still there. Only softer. Most of the weight he gained went to his chest and abdomen, so there were light stretch marks along his upper and lower body.

Still, it wasn't super obvious, and he looked good. He still had the physique you liked. Broad shoulders, a big chest, and an ass that was always worth checking out. A little tummy never hurt nobody.

“You look good, Carlos. Don’t fret over the small stuff.” You reassured, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“I just… want to look more like my old self.” He sighed, “I used to look strong, and it made me feel like I could do anything.” His eyes drifted from your face as his voice grew softer. “But now… I’m not as active as I used to be. I feel like some paunchy loser.” He made his point by grabbing a fold of skin and looking more depressed than ever.

You grabbed his hand, “I don’t think that.”

You emphasized firmly by squeezing his hand gently. “Carlos, it’s been years since Raccoon City. We’re getting older, you’re body won’t stay young and fit forever. If you wanna get back in shape, by all means, go for it. You can do anything if you put your mind to it.”

You lifted one of your hands to caress his cheek in your palm,” But no matter how much time has passed, I will always love you no matter how you look.”

You interlocked your fingers with his, “And I will always find beauty within you." You made a promise, "Even when the wrinkles start creeping in, even when you get scruffy and gray. There is beauty in you, I see it every day.” You assured with conviction.

His gaze fell from your face to the floor. His eyebrows furrowed together, his forehead creased slightly. Your heart ached for him as you stared into those sad brown eyes.

He didn’t say anything, but you knew he could hear the sincerity in your words. So you kissed him on the forehead instead of speaking, hoping that would convey what you wanted to say better than words. Your lips lingered against his forehead, brushing softly against his warm skin.

Pulling him closer, your lips drifted all over his skin. From his temple to his jawline, then the bridge of his nose. Your kisses trailed down to his neck.

Carlos went rigid. He didn’t respond at all. Not until you reached the bottom of his chin and brushed his beard with your thumb. Then, finally, his lips parted.

“Still think I’m sexy?” He broke his silence with a cheeky remark.

“Always.” You smiled before trailing your fingertips across his chin and up to his lips. “Dad bods are a total turn-on.” You added.

Carlos laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a strong kiss. You smiled against his lips as your fingers danced through his hair, tugging at it lightly. “God, we haven’t had sex in a while.” You muttered between kisses.

He groaned against your lips. “I know.” He began planting kisses down your jaw, “I haven’t been asking 'cause I thought you wouldn’t want me…” His teeth grazed your earlobe, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses behind.

Your breath hitched as you grabbed his shoulders, “Are you kidding? Carlos, I will always want you.” When he pulled away, you moved closer and attached your lips to his neck, nipping and sucking at his skin. You felt his body stiffen and shiver beneath your touch. “Just thinking about you makes me want you.”

You mumbled humorously against his neck as you continued to suck on the spot, eliciting a moan from him. He tightened his grip around your waist, “Yeah? You mean it?”

“Yes.” You pressed a kiss against the side of his face, “I want this to be about you. It’s all about you.” You punctuated each sentence with a small kiss. “You’re my whole world.”

Carlos pulled away, placing both hands on your cheeks and pressing his lips against yours for a slower, more sensual kiss. You moaned softly and wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers with his soft, curly locks.

He held you close and deepened the kiss. Eventually, you started grinding into him in a manner that made him whimper a bit. “Want me to take care of you?” You asked when you finally broke apart, stroking his cheek gently. He nodded.

You took him by the hand and lead him over to your bed. You crawled onto your knees as you situate Carlos under you. He laid back, letting you straddle his hips. You leaned down and gave him open-mouthed kisses along his jaw while your hands cupped his pecs.

With every touch, he bucked his hips upwards and pushed into you harder. He arched his back in pleasure as you continued to kiss his neck. “You're so sexy," you said as you trailed wet kisses down his torso. "I wanna fuck you all night long." You whispered.

His hands moved down your back to rest below your ass. He massaged the flesh underneath his hand as he pressed his body upward. You can feel his hardening cock he is as he ruts against your clothed mound.

You leaned over him, resting your forearms atop his chest to keep yourself upright. You gazed down into his face. His dark eyes glimmered with passion. “Please… please fuck me, baby.” Carlos pleaded quietly, moving his hand from underneath your ass to grab the hem of your top.

You obliged, quickly pulling the shirt up over your head, tossing it aside, and slipping out of your pants. You crawled back over his bare torso and placed gentle kisses down his chest and his stomach.

He shuddered a bit as your lips found their wait toward his navel. Carlos’s body felt hot against your skin. Your hands gripped his thighs tightly as you made your way lower and lower. All he could do was watch as you pressed your face against his erection.

You kissed his tip through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a soft groan to escape his lips.

Carlos’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back as he tried desperately to control himself. He couldn’t help but let out a few whimpers when you started rubbing circles over his dick, making him arch his hips up to meet your lips.

“God, (name)…” He groaned desperately, “Please…” A small whimper escaped his throat.

Your hands slid up to firmly hold him down, smirking against his length. “Shh, baby. I have you. Just relax for me, alright?” You cooed, curling your fingers around the waistband of his boxers. Effortlessly, you slid them down enough for his throbbing cock to spring out.

You licked your lips, staring down at his gorgeous dick that stood proud. Your tongue swiped over his tip, teasing it for a moment with multiple swipes over its slit.

A ton of pre leaked from his tip, dripping slowly down to land on your tongue. You brought your hands up to cup his balls and rolled the head of his shaft between your fingers.

As soon as you squeezed them tight enough, his body arched off the mattress. “Fuck, don’t tease me like this. Please, baby…” he begged through clenched teeth.

You looked into his eyes as you finally sucked his tip into your mouth. A loud grunt escaped him, which only served to increase your lust.

Carlos’s hand slipped into your hair, holding it tight as he tried to remain silent. He watched your face intently, trying his best to ignore the intense sensation of your throat closing around his cock. As you continued to swallow him whole, you bobbed your head up and down with every thrust.

“Baby…” The sounds coming out of his mouth were so needy. They sounded desperate. They were laced with pain. You wanted to soothe him. You wanted to give him everything.

“Don’t stop…” Carlos pleaded. “Please.” You swallowed him whole as his hips lifted gently off the mattress. You had to hold him down firmly so that he could stop squirming, but eventually, you came up for breath.

Carlos gasped a little and whined at the loss of your mouth. “No…” He gave you a look of desperation.

You leaned over him once again, smirking as his cock twitched for you. “Don’t worry, I said I’ll take care of you.” You whispered huskily against his lips.

You kissed him passionately as you mounted his hips, grinding your hips over his cock. He growled lowly as you ground harder and faster.

“(Name)...” He groaned, his head falling back as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He opened his legs wider so that you had more access to him. You could feel his cock pulsating against your entrance.

He bucked his hips upward, trying to get as much friction in between your thighs as possible. “Come on, baby. Fuck me.” He whimpered, holding onto your hips and looking up at you for permission.

“So needy.” You chuckled. Leaning forward, you kissed him deeply and took him inch by inch. When he bottomed out, he moaned loudly and his head fell back against the mattress.

“That’s right baby.” You whispered between kisses as you rocked against his length, “I know you love this.”

#x reader #fanfic #smut #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos x reader #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira x you #re3 carlos #resident evil x reader #resdient evil #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil smut #resident evil 3 #carlos oliveria x reader #carlos smut #carlos oliveria smut #carlos olivera #dad bod #chubby #insecurity

[specialagentlokitty]

Klaus Mikaelson x reader - both think the same

Hey there! Can i request a klaus mikaelson x reader where they both have the same feelings for each other romantically but the reader suffers badly with depression and negative thoughts and feels like klaus doesn't deserve the burden of her so she distances herself away from him, thankss - Anon 💜

TW: mentions of depression and negative thoughts

Glancing across the grill, you smiled a little to yourself before looking away.

You knew that where you went generally Klaus wasn’t far behind, he liked being near you, liked making sure that you were okay, you were safe.

But he never came over, because when he did you would leave, you didn’t want to be near him, he thought maybe it was because of everything that he had done.

But he loved you.

You loved him too, but you couldn’t help the thoughts that ran around your head all the time.

You had gone to dances with him, you had even gone to dinner with him a few times.

He would bring you flowers, leaving them on your doorstep just to see you smile as he stood at the end of your path.

He thought he was making progress, then distance yourself from him when he got a little too close.

You stood up, putting your hood up as you slipped out of the grill, wanting to head home and just get away from people.

You made your way outside into the cold air and shivered a little bit.

Sighing, you turned your gaze towards your feet, slowly walking down the quiet streets, fully aware of the steps behind yours, and when you stopped he stopped.

“Gonna creep woman out doing that.”

“So, we’re talking now?” Klaus asked.

He walked over, following alongside of you as you carried on walking home.

“Never said we weren’t…”

He sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder to make you stop.

“You’re cold.”

He took his jacket off, dropping it over your shoulders and you looked up at him as he smiled softly down at you.

He buttoned up the jacket for you, and you slipped your hands through the sleeves, clutching at the ends of them slightly.

You turned around, going back to walking home and he followed you.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked.

You didn’t reply, and he sighed again.

“One moment I think we have a chance at being friends, the next moment you’re shutting me out as if I’d just thrown a rock through your window.”

You glanced at him.

“That was a shitty example.”

“Perhaps not one of my best ones, no. But it’s true.”

You shrugged a little bit.

He looked at you, the way you kept your head to the ground and he placed a hand on your shoulder.

You stopped and he walked in front of you, he moved his hand and placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head up.

“What’s playing on your mind love?” He asked quietly.

“It’s cold…”

He chuckled, nodding his head.

It wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he decided to take you home first, so he walked you the rest of the way.

You opened the door to your apartment, and you stepped aside so he could come in before closing it.

You had invited him in before, so Klaus knew he was free to come and go, but he wanted to leave that choice to you.

He stood in front of you, unbuttoning the jacket so he could take it off and hang it up and you put your hood down.

Wondering into the kitchen you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and walked over to the couch to sit down.

Klaus walked over, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“So, would you like to tell me what’s really playing on your mind?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“No, no it’s nothing.”

“I don’t believe that, come now, you know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t deem it important.”

You looked at him.

“You always ask, about everything.”

“Because everything’s important when it comes to you love. I know something is bothering you, I’ve known for a while.”

You said nothing.

“Whatever it is I’m sure we can figure this out, work a way about it if there is one.”

“I.. I don’t know…”

You didn’t know how to explain it to him.

How to explain you loved him so much you just wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but you saw yourself as a burden.

How you thought he would be better if he didn’t get to close to you, because you saw yourself as a burden, that someone as powerful as him needed someone powerful at his side.

Klaus studied you quietly, and he moved over, sitting next to you.

He reached out, taking your hand in his, and he ran his thumb along your knuckles.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to..”

He nodded, smiling down at you, and he placed a hand on the side of your face so you could look at him.

Leaning down he kissed your forehead, then rested your head on his shoulder.

“When you’re ready to talk about it I’m all ears, but for now I believe you have some crappy movies on your TV.”

You laughed a little, and he smiled.

He loved that sound, the sound of your laughter, your happiness.

You were so comfortable, so at home like this, and it almost made you forget why you distanced yourself from him, but you knew why.

Because you felt like you couldn’t have something like this, someone like him.

Klaus didn’t think that, he thought he didn’t deserve you after all he had done, he felt like you were too good for him.

But he wanted you, he wanted to be able to hold you and protect you, no matter how long he had to wait in order for that day to come.

All he could do was hold you while you let him, and remind you just how important you are.

You rested your head on his chest, and you sighed.

He chuckled, placing a hand on your head, gently messaging your scalp.

“You are so beautiful…” he whispered.

You didn’t saw anything but you did smile in return, holding his other hand just as gently as he was holding you.

Maybe you’d go back to distancing yourself from him after this, but then if you did he would just keep trying until one day he was brave enough to say he loved you

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries x you #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus Mikaelson x you

[nejiverse]

PERIOD PROBLEMS

Satoru Gojo

In which Gojo actually does fit the criteria..

cw: mentions of periods, kids

460 words

There’s a certain week everyone month that Gojo dreads.

He has it marked in the calendar on his phone so he can prepare himself for a week of depression, and that is the week of your period.

He absolutely hates that you lock yourself in the bathroom and sit on the toilet for the whole damn day, only coming out when necessary.

He also hates that he can hear your laughter from whatever you were watching or reading on your phone, he wanted to laugh too ;’)

And what he hates the most is that you let your daughter into the bathroom with you but not him, he sees it as a prime example of favouritism.

Gojo huffed.

Not seeing your face was killing him, he was about to die any second now!

He knocked on the door, which made you pause what you were watching and put a finger to your lips, urging your daughter to stay quiet. Maybe the quietness would make him go away.

It didn’t.

Gojo frowned and knocked again. This time his knock was followed by words.

“Y/nnn! This is literal torture! I haven’t talked to you all day!��, he whined.

Once the toddler heard her father’s voice, she waddled up to the door, reaching her little hand up to the door, looking back at you for help.

You sighed.

You opened the door slightly, your daughter peeking her head from between your legs.

“Hi Papa!”, she waved at Gojo.

“Hey baby! Can I join you and Mama—”

“Girls only”, you pointed at your husband, shaking your finger in his face. “And you don’t fit the criteria”.

Gojo hung his head, sniffling. “Alright..”.

You knew he was gonna come back again knocking, and thats just what he was gonna do.

It had been just over twenty minutes when you heard another knock on the door.

“Seriously Satoru i’m not in the m—”, you stared blankly at your husband, who was now wearing one of your dresses that barely fit him and a bit of red lipstick on his lips and cheeks.

“Who the hell’s Satoru? The name’s Satori if you must know”, he rolled his eyes.

You couldn’t help the smile that creeped onto your lips. “You’re gonna stretch the hell out of my dress”, you shook your head as you heard your daughter giggle behind you.

“Papa’s silly!”.

“Oh he’s more than silly”, you added, opening the door a bit more so he could come in.

“But I guess he fits the criteria”.

masterlist :)

a/n: Im rewatching tokyo ghoul YES AGAIN IM ON A REWATCHING ANIME SPREE and I feel like writing for kaneki and juuzou😔👊

#jjk #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo imagine #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #satoru gojō x reader

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

DARK THEMES AHEAD!!!

How do you think that the CP fan favs

(Jeff, proxies, E.J. you can add if you want :D)

Would react to their S/O threatening to commit suicide (shooting themselves of stabbing) because they couldn't deal with them kidnapping and taking away their freedom or rights?

(Sorry for this depressing ask, im feeling angst-y and you're one of my fav writers on here. Cheers!)

No! I absolutely love asks like this and this is honestly some of my favorite stuff to write! Thank you so much for the ask and I hope you enjoy! 🖤

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD

CREEPS REACTING TO THEIR S/O TRYING TO COMMIT SUICIDE

JEFF THE KILLER:

When you stole his knife from atop his dresser he almost felt fear. Well.. He did but he’ll never admit it.

The look of wild fear and confusion was splayed all over his face as you threatened to slit your wrists right there. Right in front of him.

“I hate you! I hate you so much!” You pointed and jabbed the knife at him through heavy sobs. “I didn’t want this! I don’t want you!”

He could barely find the words. Should he take it from you? The question really was could he take it from you.

When he finally came to a conclusion he muttered roughly, “Y/N. Give me the knife.”

A simple but hopefully effective sentence

When you didn’t listen and began to press the knife to your wrist, watching the blood slowly pool. He lunged. Ripping the knife from your hands by the blade.

He didn’t care that he’d cut his hands open, blood pouring onto the carpet and his hands burning from the deep cuts.

He just wanted you safe.

You could see him wince as he looked down at his bloody hands, trying hard to play it off with a crooked smile when he looked up at you.

“Come on sweets, let’s go see EJ. He’s good with this kinda thing.”

EYELESS JACK:

He came home to you frantically looking through his medicine cabinets

He stood in the doorway silently, watching you closely to truly get an idea of what you were up to

When you poured an obnoxious amount of hefty pills into your small hand he let out a low growl. A warning one. One you’ve heard many times before when you’d try to escape

He watched you turn around with tears in your eyes

“I can’t do this anymore… Find someone else.” You choked out as you brought your hand to your mouth, letting the pills fall in

It was in an instant he was on top of you, snarling wildly. He yanked your jaw down, immediately sticking his clawed fingers down your throat.

“Throw it up!!” He shouted. It was the loudest you’d heard him speak before…

The pressure from his fingers deep in your throat brought more tears to your eyes as you threw up.

He stroked your back and held your hair as the acid and pills burned your throat coming back up

After that day, all the cabinets had heavy padlocks on them and only Jack carried the keys

TIM/MASKY:

He decided to let you drive, just this once. Just because you begged and he loved you so much he couldn’t tell you no.

You followed the route he gave you, trying to make him think you two would actually be going to the mission site.

When you began speeding up obviously far over the posted speed limit, Tim began to grow suspicious

You’d never been this eager to go on a mission.

It was only when he saw tears falling down your cheeks that he knew what was happening.

“Y/N turn the car off. Pull over. Now.”

When you didn’t do as he instructed he harshly moved to get the car to a stop. Pulling the emergency break and throwing the car into park before ripping the keys out of the ignition

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” He shouted angrily.

When you turned to look at him there was rage in your eyes. “You ruined my life!! Now I don’t want one at all!”

He felt his heart sink when he listened to you. You didn’t want him… He thought things were going well between the two of you…

It was only then that he called off this mission, ready to take whatever punishment the Operator had for him

BRIAN/HOODIE:

You’d tried this sort of thing before… He knew you didn’t like it here but he needed you. He’d wanted you for so long he couldn’t just let you go

The first time you two were on a mission you’d tried to jump from a bridge, he was lucky he grabbed you in time. Thank god he was fast…

After that day he essentially baby proofed the house, not allowing you around the other creeps and certainly not on missions anymore

One day he got sloppy though. He was tired, it was mission after mission and all he wanted to do was come home and rest by your side.

He forgot to lock up his gun like he always does. Placing it on the nightstand instead and getting into bed with you in his arms

He’s a pretty light sleeper so it was odd that you could get out of his arms and grab the gun without him knowing

It was only when he heard the click of the safety and your soft sobs that he woke up. Sitting up straight and looking around the dark room.

You were on your knees on the floor facing way from the bed, gun placed to your temple as your body shook with sobs.

He was thankful you didn’t realize he was awake. Otherwise he knew he wouldn’t have been successful in his attempt to take the gun.

When he snatched it from your hands you got up, clawing at him to get it back.

He held you to his chest, subduing you from your attacks.

“Go back to bed sweetheart.” He whispered softly, locking his gun up and taking you back to bed in his arms

“TICCI” TOBY:

You heard him coming down the hallway, back from another mission. He wasn’t stealthy in the slightest when he was home.

You tried your hardest to make it quick as you were trying to make sure the rope was secure while stepping up on the chair

“Y/N?!” Toby ran to you, snatching you off the chair.

“No!! Let me go!!” You fought him like a damn bull, kicking and flailing and scratching.

His lack of physical feeling came in handy in the situation. He pressed you down on the bed, practically sitting on you to make sure you couldn’t go anywhere

Your sobs only slightly hurt his heart. He was more upset by the fact you wanted to leave him. How could you?? Did he not give you enough? Was he not good enough for you?

“How could you do this to me?? I thought I was what you wanted!” He shouted angrily, pressing down harder when you continued to fight.

“I want nothing to do with you! You’re a fucking monster!”

He felt something inside him snap. “You’ll never leave now. You’re mine Y/N.”

#creepypasta #marble hornets #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta requests #creepypasta hcs #marble hornets headcanons #tim wright #masky marble hornets #brian thomas #hoodie marble hornets #jeff the killer #jeff woods #eyeless jack #jack nyras #asks open #anon ask

[mystsee]

DRIFTED ✦ SIMON GHOST RILEY

PREV ✦ PART 4 ✦ NEXT

✦ about: something happened when simon left, something you don’t want him to know, yet when he comes back, your reaction to him gave him all the answers.

✦ content: afab reader, graphic violence mentions, mentions of possible s/a, panic attack, blood, knife, death mentions, anxiety, depressive thoughts, no mentions of y/n

✦ a/n: ehehe wrote this in one go 🫠

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

just a week has passed since simon left, enough for a certain psycho come back to you.

you were trying to sleep in your room, cold weather making you all cuddled up in your bed. after a long session of work today pulled an all nighter, your body was begging for a rest. which was what you thought you would be doing.

an hour of tossing around in your bed, a sudden sound woke you up, it was weird, like someone was pushing around something. you thought it was maybe a neighbor moving around a table or so. it was barely 8pm, but winter made the sky look darker right now, making it look like it was 3 am.

a minute later you heard it again, but this time louder and clearer. that was definitely not a neighbor, it sounded way too close to you. you felt fear creeping up on you, was someone on window?

a million thoughts spiraled inside your mind, that couldn’t be him, he was arrested wasn’t he? maybe something crashed on your window? a bird? who fucking knows, you tried not to think it could be him.

you always had very good hearing, and it was very useful right now. slow but deep footsteps were heard, like they were trying to find something or someone.

by now you were sure none of your friends were inside your home, they always told you when they would come over. definitely an intruder, you thought.

immediately you grabbed the knife next to your bed, reminding you of simon

-

“keep it love, you never know what could happen” a worried stare was evident in his eyes “acting like i live in the most insecure neighbor simon” you said softly laughing “i’ll be okay, nothing has ever happened here” oh how wrong you were

-

your heart was beating so loud you couldn’t even hold the knife correctly, you were standing beside your door now.

the air in the room was way too cold, making the leggings and sweatshirt you were wearing not helping at all, you were shivering so bad you could drop the knife.

holding the knife stronger, you heard the footsteps closer to you, and faster, making you dizzy for a second, what where you supposed to do know? just stab who ever was in your home?

you heard very subtle the door handle moving, making you hold your breath, slowly the door started opening, covering your entire frame, but you could see with the mirror in front of you who was it.

that’s when your heart stopped. he was supposed to be arrested! with the police officers! interrogating him! what the hell was he doing in here?!

his sick voice said your name, making you flinch, oh how you hated his voice, he started walking closer to your bed. the sheets making it look like you were there, hence why he started touching all your sheets trying to find you you were sure you were going to burn them now

you saw him looking around your room, until he stopped, and looked in the mirror. you moved as fast as the speed of light. but all his attention was on finding you, making him see the subtle movement.

in a second the door was closed, very loud, and he was smiling like a freak, you just showed him the knife, pointing at him “stop!” your voice sounded so fragile “don’t you dare step close to me”

he just made a small laugh sound making your insides turn sourly “why so scared? i just came here to talk” he said putting his arms up a little

“by breaking my door lock?” he took a step closer to you making you raise the knife higher “what is wrong with you?” your breath was making it harder for you to breathe “why don’t you leave me alone?” “because, you belonged to me, and you’ll belong to me again”

he grabbed your hand with the knife and twisted it, making you almost scream “get away from me!” you said pushing him with all your force, but that didn’t bother him at all, it almost looked like he liked it.

he pushed you to the wall, making you hit your head and loose your sight for a second “if you keep moving you’ll just hurt yourself dear” he managed to cross your arms in front of you, his face so close to you, making you nauseous. but you still had the knife with you.

“i said let go of me” you felt his hand wander lower to your leggings, making you panick, his other hand was on your throat, if you didn’t do it know, you would go unconscious.

his chest was pushing your arms to you, but you managed to move your arm with the knife lower, closer to his stomach. the bastard was so focused on his hand near your lower parts he never saw you still had the knife

you were going dizzy by now, your hand was loosing force but you found all the strength in you to do it. the moment you felt his hand touch your lower part, you angled your hand to his stomach, stabbing him so deep he screamed.

“you fucking bitch!” he stopped choking you, slowly moving to the floor. you felt the air again inside you, tears coming out of you.

you let go of the knife, your eyes were so wide you couldn’t even breathe properly, what the fuck did you just do? you just stabbed a person psycho. you stood there in shock for about 5 seconds, what am i supposed to do now? you thought panicked.

the blood was spreading fast on your carpet, making you nervous, it wasn’t a pretty sight. you grabbed the wall behind you for support and moved to the side fast.

but it seemed like he still had a bit of life left, he grabbed your ankle while you were walking, making you double over to the bed, you didn’t have much strength left, making it easier for him to drag you to him.

you grabbed the duvet with all your force and moved yourself up to the bed. your phone was on the other side of it, making you stain the duvet with his blood. you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and called 911. you could’t see him bleed out in front of you, in your room.

…

never did you ever thought you would stab someone, let alone your ex. it’s been 3 weeks since the attack, and you never told your friends. you were still in shock you stabbed someone, how would they react?

police finally got him inside jail, you installed a camera with simon before he left outside your apartment, psycho didn’t see it, all his breaking the lock thingy act was evidenced.

he was arrested, and a trial was going to happen. you had to testify. a part of you was terrified to see him again, you stabbed someone, you still see his blood in your room.

you were somehow calm to know he was in jail for now, but that didn’t mean your paranoia left.

every night you woke up almost screaming, the nightmares were eating you alive by now, your eyes were begging for sleep, yet you couldn’t. you see him in your dreams and you hate it.

your friends were worried, they just saw you slowly pass from energetic and glowy to almost sick. you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell them. you hung out less with them too, every once a week maybe.

all these madness was making you sick in the head, body and soul. your apartment was a mess, your dishes were dirty, your poor cat even looked worried for you, going you almost everywhere you went around the apartment.

you knew simon was coming back anytime now, add it to the list of things worrying you. will he be back? is he okay? what else could happen now? you dying? that could probably be much better than enduring whatever the hell is happening.

you just wanted a pretty life away from any danger, him, and be at peace. it seems like it’s all the opposite now. it was shameful how depressed you were. you couldn’t bring yourself to even make the bed. your thoughts were depressive as hell, guilt as well on yourself.

you lost track of time, you weren’t sure if it’s been already a month or maybe a week has passed again. therefore it was quite the surprise when simon was infront of your bedroom door, confused as hell.

simon was back now, he had a long talk with price, managing to stay here for a while again, with no unexpected missions. he was almost dying to see you again, how were you? what have you done? perhaps something new related to your job, he was all excited to see you again.

as soon as simon knocked on your door, the door moved, did you knew he was coming back? he thought, what he didn’t know is you were scared to call someone to fix your door lock, what if they knew you live alone and stalked you? ptsd was on you again.

you just pushed a bunch of chairs in front of your door and tried to sleep, keyword tried. simon moved even more the door, and heard all the chairs screeching, what the hell?

you knew sleep deprivation was gonna make you crazy anytime now, so you decided to take a sleep pill, it seemed like today was going to be your first day to sleep more than 3 hours.

simon moved through your flat, and saw all the mess, he knew you were very tidy, ocd, yet when he saw your plants almost dying and a big pile of dirty dishes, he knew something was wrong.

even though you were deeply sleeping, your body was still on high alert, meaning as soon as the chairs screeched, your body bolted up, your hand instinctively grabbing the knife next to you.

you were scared, to say the least. your neighborhood was very safe, the only person that could be coming inside was him again. you felt your throat close. he’s in jail. you repeated that mantra in your head.

simon never crossed your mind, that he is back. you stood again beside your door, seeing the door handle moving slowly. it all felt familiar again, the tears threatening to fall again.

as soon as the door opened, you went for it, you moved infront of the door with the knife on your hand “don’t mov-“

simon. was infront of you, with part of his gear still on, wide eyes as same as you. “you’re back?” simon heard how fragile your voice was, your body was practically trembling with fear. in an instant he connected the dots

“did the bastard do something?” you heard his harsh words, and slowly realized he knew what happened. anyone who came inside your flat could see the signs “he-he is in jail, what do you mean?”

you were denying it, in front of simon, a soldier who may have a 6th sense. “don’t lie to me love, and please, drop the knife” his tone wasn’t as harsh as before, yet you knew he was getting impatient “i’m not lying, i’m okay simon” you said angrily wiping your tears.

you moved behind and hid your knife quickly “you’re saying, you a total control freak, with a literal mess on her home, chairs on your door, may i say your lock broken, and ready to stab me, is okay?” you freezed spot on

your back was to him so he couldn’t see your scrunched up face “stop, please” stop what?” he scoffed “don’t try getting all angry at me, what the fuck happened in here?”

simon was mad at you, that’s what you thought, but he was worried sick inside, he thought the bastard was in jail now “i’m sorry okay” you said facing him “i’m not okay right now and i would appreciate it if you left me alone” simon knew you didn’t mean those words, but he saw how stubborn you were acting, and decided to take your words “fine, i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want”

you saw him walking out as fast as possible, closing the door to your room. you panicked, anxiety making it’s way to your throat. you didn’t mean that at all:(

“wait simon” you said crying outside your door, he was on the first step of stairs, and just turned his head to you, not even his back. he knew you wouldn’t let him go.

“i’m sorry okay? this is very hard to me” you said clutching your door with all your force “i’m not okay right now, and it’s hard for me to-to” you were hyperventilating, simon was in front of you in an instant “hey, breathe for me please?”

he walked you backwards, until you hit a chair. simon just turned you around and closed your door pushing the chairs. he dragged you to your sofa, but made the mistake of grabbing your wrists, you winced and moved your hands away from him.

you tried hiding them from him, but he just manhandled you until you were on top of his big thighs, and your arms on display for him. he saw all the bruises, more specific, the hand prints on your arms.

you just snatched your arms from his hands and moved all the way to the other side of the sofa “don’t, please” he saw your angry stare on him. which rarely happened. maybe this was more serious than he initially thought

“will you tell me what happened?” you were trying to contain the sobs, this would be the first you would talk about it, and it wasn’t going so good.

simon felt a big wall in between you, it’s almost like you were a whole different person. he saw you looking straight past him, a lost gaze on you

maybe it was actually good if he left “look” he took a deep breath “just know that i’ll be here when you need me” he was dying to know what happened even though he knew what happened. as soon as he stood up your words frozed him “i stabbed him” he heard your small voice, shaking with fear again.

simon just turned his face to you “what did you just said?” he was not expecting this at all

“i said i fucking stabbed him simon, and it’s making me fucking crazy” you said in between angry breaths.

“i keep seeing him on my bedroom floor, his blood staining everything, and i just can’t erase that image out of my head” your head was in between your legs now, guilt building inside you

“i’m going on trial next saturday” you muttered

simon just stood you up, startling you for a second, and held your face on his hands “don’t you dare feel guilt on you right now” you just stared at his chest. simon moved your face up to his eyes “you heard me?” his deep voice was very close to you now. “you defended yourself okay?, i don’t know what the hell happened in here, but what i do know is that the bastard deserved it”

you felt like you could breath again, all the tension in your body left. you just needed to hear it, to know you weren’t at fault.

you knew what he said was true, making the tears fall freely from your eyes. you slowly moved your arms up to his back and held him close to you.

“i know, but still, it feels so fucking weird, i never thought i would do that in my life” he knew very well how you felt. he moved his head on top of yours and kissed it “i know, but i’m here for you know aren’t i?”

you felt simon take a deep breath. he needed to let it out, being without you felt empty, and he promised himself that after this mission he had, he would never let you go

you moved your head, practically craning all your neck to see him, his deep voice rumbling in his chest “i regret myself for letting you go in the past, even more now, perhaps you wouldn’t be dealing with all of this if i fought harder for you” did you just saw a tear on simon’s face? it was very dark, so maybe you were wrong

“all i know is that i won’t make that mistake again love, will you allow me to be in your life again?”

he felt anxiety inside him, he wasn’t sure if you would accept, it would be totally okay though, he understands, he did just left you for a month. he didn’t realize he was inside his head overthinking until you moved your soft hands to his face.

“simon you were already in the moment i saw you again” he felt his heart stop, you had a soft smile on your face. he grabbed your face again with his left hand.

you saw him put his forehead on top of yours, your lips so close to each other, with just a slight movement and you could kiss each other.

you moved yourself closer to him, your lips almost touching his, until you felt simon’s fingers on top of your lips “wait” he saw your doe eyes move up to him, a questioning gaze on him “i need to ask you something” “go on” you were impatient now, you needed to fell his soft lips on you again

“will you move in with me?”

your heart stopped, were you dreaming?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AHHHH cliffhanger 😏

i think the next part will be the last one!!!!!!!

perhaps a little angst will make an appearance 👁️

taglist

@the-queen-of-england183 @sluttyforsimon @hotaruteba @honey-on-mars @actorryswife

#protective simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley civilian life #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley x female #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost x you #simon cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod x y/n #simon ghost riley x y/n

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｌｏｖｅｒ ｂｏｙ♡

Pairing: boyfriend!felix x chubby!fem!reader

Summary: Your new boyfriend comforts you during a depressive episode.

Genre: fluff/angst-ish

Word Count: 849

Warnings: mention of depression/some dark thoughts & feelings

A/N: Just wanted to write something for anyone out there who might struggle with depression and need some comfort ♡

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time...

But it was bound to happen at some point, you think, burying your face in your hands, a puddle of tears forming in your palms. Things have been going so well with Felix, better than they have with any other guy. From day one he’s been your Prince Charming.

Taking you on dates to botanical gardens blooming with flowers you thought could only exist in fairytales. Packing you lunch for work whenever he stays over with cute little notes tucked in the bag to brighten up your day.

Felix is a dream come true for you. You wanted, with everything inside of you, to be the same for him, but all of that’s over now. You’re sure of it. It’s the first night you’ve spent at his apartment, mere days after the two of you became official, and you’re curled up on his bathroom floor crying your heart out at 2 in the morning.

It’s nothing he did. He’s been a sweetheart, as always, cooking you dinner and making sure that you’re comfortable. Still, depression’s found a way to creep up on you, flooding your mind with thoughts that tear at the thin layer of confidence you’ve been pouring all of your energy into maintaining.

The pain is like a ton of bricks in your stomach. An invisible hand around your throat gripping tighter the more you struggle to twist away. The voice in your head, telling you that you aren’t good enough, mocks you for being silly enough to think you could hide this part of you from Felix forever.

He’ll see you, really see you, and he'll hate what he sees.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Felix’s voice breaks through deep and scruffy from having just woken up, somehow remaining soothing in all of its power. Lifting your head up, you wipe your tears on the sleeves of your pajama shirt, positive you look a complete wreck. This is it. The end.

“I don’t…” you stutter, unsure of how to explain yourself, “I’m so sorry.” Based on the confusion that paints his face, you half expect him to back away only for him to do the exact opposite. He’s not running away, he’s grabbing handfuls of tissue, kneeling down beside you to tidy up your runny nose. 

“Talk to me. Did something happen? Did I do…” You sniffle, shaking your head, “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just…fucked up I guess. Too depressed to keep my shit together.” Your head falls again, this time resting on your knees, and you close your eyes, wishing you could start this night over again.

For a brief moment, Felix shuffles around in a direction you can't pinpoint before two arms wrap around your body, hands clasped together where they meet your soft belly. He pulls you against his chest, strands of long hair brushing your cheek as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say that.”

There’s a sense of safety and connectedness within his arms that you haven’t felt in, well, ever. You're almost ashamed at how intensely his warmth shields you from the cold darkness closing in.

“You’re not fucked up. You’re just hurting and that’s okay. Well, it’s not okay but it’s…fuck I’m so bad at this.” Rolling your eyes, you reach a hand up to stroke his cheek, “Shut up. You’re not bad at this.” “Are we gonna sit here all night complimenting each other?” he teases, “Because we can. My butt will probably go numb though. I don’t have as much cushion as you. Don’t know what you see in me.”

The faintest giggle on your part has him kissing your neck, bear hugging you. “There’s my girl and that beautiful smile of hers.” “Don’t get used to it” you sigh, “It won’t last.” Felix just shrugs, “Doesn’t have to. I’ll still be here. I don’t care about you under the condition that you’re happy 24/7. You know that, right?” 

“I, well, I didn’t know…”

“Well, now you do.” 

His palm meets the back of your hand, fingers twining around yours to bring your arm down to your waist. “Let me be here for you. Give me a chance.” Hearing someone say that, hearing him say that, is more terrifying than you expect it to be. Trust is hard, trust is risky…

Felix leans forward to get a good look at you, a glimmer in his still sleepy eyes

…but if there’s anyone worth taking a risk on it’s the freckle faced boy staring back at you. 

“Uh…yeah…okay.” 

He smiles, “Yeah?”

 It’s impossible not to smile back, “Yeah.”  

“Good.”

Felix loosens his hold on you enough that he has room to lean his head on your back. “Want me to sing to you?” he yawns. You settle comfortably into the arms of your Felix, your safety blanket, letting your eyes fall closed from exhaustion. “Sing what?”

A stretch of silence lingers as he scans his brain for the perfect song to fit the moment.

“Oh! Got it! Fake eyes open…” 

“Felix!” you yell, slapping him on the knee.

“What? Bad timing?”

#lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix x y/n #lee felix fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids x thick reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

[cryptictongues]

184 Days

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader Series rating: Mature (angst; tw listed below) word count: 13.6K summary: You have a hard time grieving after Clive's passing, even when you didn't need to grieve at all.

warnings:  reader-insert (sorry lol), angst, hurt/comfort, reunions, grief/mourning, slight suicidal ideation, slight self-harm, depression, panic attacks, happy ending (yay!) - this is part of the Flower!Reader series! You don't need to have read the other two but there are references to them if that interests you.

Spoilers: This is post-game stuff. If you haven't played the game, beware.

TW's: This fic contains major themes of grief, so it is heavy. There is minor suicidal ideation and self-harm, not graphic in nature, but it is there. Depression and panic attacks are more common in this fic. If these topics don't sit right with you, please be cautious when reading. You may also reach out if you want to know specifics if you are worried!

Songs: I just want to share that I was constantly listening to When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, Thick Skull by Paramore, and Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

LASTLY, I am sharing this on my birthday! My birthday gift to you all <3

[AO3 link]

Day 1

The Hideaway is full of people. People from all over Valisthea arrive in droves, coming to grant supplies, donate gil, and help around the Hideaway because today is the day; the day everyone here sends off Dion, Joshua, and Clive for their leave to Origin.

You are working overtime, helping with the final preparations before they take off. The biggest reason, however, for the hard work is the ever creeping anxiety filling your body as the time ticks closer to Clive’s departure; from his friends and family, and from you. This day has been a long time coming, yet now that it’s here you can barely stomach the thought of him leaving. With that thought lingering, every moment together has been even more precious than the next. 

Every moment of free time has been spent together. With today being the day of departure, your last moments together were last night. You both made love all night, and in between sessions would talk about what you two will do once he comes back; creating the life of your dreams together. Yet, in the back of your mind, all you could think was those thoughts were just that: dreams. You don’t know what will happen during Clive’s mission. But it’s fun to play pretend, and to envision what life could have in store for the two of you. 

The sun was in its golden state before its colors showed, telling you it’s almost time. You see everyone gathering on the main deck, Clive and co included, talking with one another as they say their farewells and safe travels. You start your way there, walking slowly as if it would prevent the inevitable. You know the moment you reach Clive, it would only be a matter of minutes before he is no longer within your grasp.

You see Clive talking to Jill, bringing her in for a tight hug as he continues. You see a shake in her shoulders, telling you she feels the same way you do. Just as hard as it is to wish your lover away, it must be just as hard to watch the man who has become a brother figure leave. They grew up together, after all.

You give a farewell to Prince Dion and Joshua once on the deck, giving Dion a firm handshake and a bow, while Joshua brings you in for a hug. You didn’t know Dion for long, but Joshua is a different story. Getting to know your lover’s brother has brought you closer to the both of them. Seeing how happy Clive was with Joshua around made your heart swell. You wonder if Joshua ever felt the same about you two. 

Joshua let’s go of you, a melancholy smile drawn on his face. “Thank you, _____. Thank you for taking care of my brother.” 

You shake your head. “No, thank you for finding each other again. I will be praying for the three of you to safely return to us.”

“I appreciate that, my lady.” Joshua thanks, yet his eyes shift, and he nods. “Here he comes.”

You turn to see Clive approaching you, and you already feel your chest growing tight and eyes water. He is standing before you, looking as beautiful as he always has, but with a sorrowful look that says everything you feel. It’s unfair, really. It devastates you that he is the one to stop all the madness, when in a perfect world he would stay. You keep telling yourself this isn’t the end, yet your gut keeps telling you otherwise. 

“____.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to stay? To ask to let the world go to hell?”

Clive smiles, solemnly chuckling at your suggestions. “Never.”

You reach for his left hand with both hands, holding it as you rub your thumbs into his palm. “I know it would be futile, all the same.” You utter. “There would be no life worth living for anyone. I just wish things could be different.”

“I am doing this for a better future for everyone. It is what the world deserves.” Clive’s other hand covers your hands in full. “I must do this, so you and I can live the future we’ve always talked about.”

“I wish I could take your place, so I could guarantee your safety.” You choke out, the waterworks starting. 

Clive is quick to react, pulling you into him as you sob softly into his chest. “Knowing you will be safe here will be reason enough for me to make it back to you.” Your hands squeeze his sides, his statement making you want to sob harder. Clive pulls back, taking one hand to lift your head to get a good look at you. “I promise I will be back. Wait for me.”

You nod frantically, sniffling as you take deep breaths to calm down. Clive’s forehead leans against yours, his thumb brushing continuous strokes on your cheek, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You accept his kiss, giving it your all knowing the outcome is unknown. Both of your lips linger, not wanting to pull away because once one of you does, he will be on his way. 

Clive pulls away slightly, his lips still lingering near your own. “I love you, ____.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, placing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I have something for you.”

You reach into the pouch you keep attached to your corset belt and pull out a lily. You thread the stem in between the crease of his corset and tunic, the tightness of his uniform keeping the flower in place. You brush his chest, stalling him a little longer before you accept it is time. “Lily represents reunion. With this flower, you shall come back to me.”

Clive sucks in a breath, releasing with a shutter as if he was on the verge of tears. “I will, no matter what.” 

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Jill still sniffling with watery eyes. She smiles at you before looking at Clive. “We will take care of each other.”

You feel something rub against your thigh and look to see Torgal rubbing his head on you. You smile, rubbing behind his ears. “Torgal will look out for us too.” 

Clive hums, appreciating the sight before him. “This is farewell for now. Till then, we have a god to kill.”

Everyone has now formed a semi-circle around the three dominants about to depart, watching as they walk towards the end of the deck. They pick up their pace, all of them running until they are no longer in sight. A bright light goes off and the next thing everyone sees is Bahamut carrying Clive and Joshua towards an event that will shape the world. 

-

You are sitting on the main deck, legs dangling off the side as you continue to stare off into the horizon. You haven’t left since Clive left, the golden hour long gone and twilight having come and gone, dusk now settling in the sky. It feels like it has been hours since his departure, when in reality it has only been a few. You wonder if they have made it to Origin yet, if the battle has started, if Ultima has been defeated… if they have met their maker for good. That thought makes you shiver. 

You hear footsteps coming from behind you before a presence sits right beside you. You don’t look, but the aura alone tells you it’s Jill and you smile slightly. She puts an arm around you, pulling you into her as you both continue to look into the distance, like they would be back any second. She twists your hair, which comforts you in a way, and you hum. It is silent for a while, watching the sky continue to grow darker and darker until the sky is black with its pearls. 

“Have you prayed to Metia today?” You break the silence with a question. Jill’s fixation that Metia answers prayers is comforting in these moments, especially when every prayer she has spoken through her heart has come true.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but only because I wanted you to join me. Our hearts combined will help, no doubt.”

You nod your head, and you both move into a position that faces Metia herself, kneeling before her with hands clasped together. You bow your head, and say your prayer in your head, letting your heart translate it in a way that only Metia understands. You pray for everyone’s safe return with little to no injury. You pray they come back healthy and happy. You pray for the dawn of a new age where you and Clive help build a world you two can grow old in. You pray for everything to be okay. You raise your head as you finish, and you admit that some weight has been lifted off your chest, but an uneasiness still sticks. You turn your head to see Jill finishing her own prayer, and she looks towards you with her hand reaching for yours. You give her your right hand and she grips it with a smile. “Metia has listened to our prayers. Now, we wait.”

“Jill, your faith that everything will be okay is admirable. I wish I had your confidence.” You confess, the sour feeling remaining deep in your body. 

“For the longest time, I thought Clive was long dead. I believed that Metia hadn’t listened. And next thing I know, there he is. Granted, it was years later.” She squeezes your hand, and turns so your knees are touching hers. “That’s why I have faith that they will return to us.”

“Maybe your faith will rub off on me, and not the other way around with my worries.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the night. 

“No matter what happens,” Jill reassures, “I will be here for you. We will be here for each other.”

You nod, and bring her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly which she returns. “Thank you, Jill. For everything.”

You both stay there for a minute, until next thing you know you hear running on the deck. You pull away to see Gav running towards you two, panic clear on his face. “Ah fuck,” he breathes in and out as he approaches. “Edda is in labor. All hands on deck.”

You and Jill gasp in unison, both jumping up to run to the infirmary to help bring new life into this world. And hopefully, a new one.

Day 2

“Alright, one more push, Edda.” 

You are sitting behind Edda, letting her use your hands for her death grip as she continuously pushes and wails out in pain. You, Jill, and Mid are giving her words of encouragement as she continues her labor, and after one final push Tarja fully delivers the baby. A cry echoes throughout the room and the atmosphere is full of happiness and relief. 

“Can I come in yet?” You hear Gav yell from the other side of the door.

“She just gave birth, Gav. Give us a minute.” Tarja yells, eyes rolling hard at Gav’s common sense.

“He’s just excited,” Jill chimes in. “As we all are.”

“Congratulations, Edda! It’s a boy!” Tarja finishes cleaning off the baby, kneeling beside Edda as she passes him off to her. You watch Edda admire her baby boy for the first time, her smile brightening up the room as she talks to him. 

Seeing them interact stirs you with an emotion you wish to experience directly. You and Clive have talked about having children, making it clear you two wouldn’t have any until the world has been set straight. But you two would talk about what it would be like to have a little you or a little him running around or both. You imagine cradling a little boy in your arms, giggling as you shower him with kisses. You imagine Clive holding a little girl, swaying her around while singing a melody. Two giggly children to call your own with the man you have fallen madly in love with. You feel as if your heart could burst from the thought. 

“_____, can you go up to the rear stacks to grab more towels off the lines?” Mid asks, taking you out of your sappy daydreams. You snap out of it, humming in the affirmative before moving away from Edda and heading to the door. You could barely get out the door before almost being trampled by Gav, running in like a mad man. “Let me see! Let me see!”

You chuckle to yourself, exiting the room and heading to the linen lines. Even when things seem dark, you can’t help but keep smiling at everyone’s high spirits tonight. You suppose new life being brought into the world will do that to people because it sure as hell is doing that for you. It’s a good distraction, and you accept it with open arms.

You grab some towels from the line, cradling them in your arms securely as you make your descent to the main deck and up the stairs to the infirmary. You reach the infirmary doors when you are once again almost hit by a body, except this time it was Jill. One quick look at her made it apparent she was crying. She doesn’t spare you a glance as she runs down the stairs, sobs fading as she goes further down. You turn to the open door, shock clear on your face. “What happened?”

Gav and Mid look at you like they don’t know what to say. You look at Gav, tears streaming down his face, and it’s like everything hits you all at once. Towels drop from your arms, your arms no longer working as your body starts to erupt. “No,” you shudder. “No.” You kept repeating yourself, not quite believing what’s happening. No words spoken, and yet everyone is saying your worst nightmare out loud. 

You could see Gav wanted to say something, but before a word could break the glass box you were building around yourself, you ran. You ran right out the door, and ran as fast as you could to Clive’s chambers. You slam the door shut, starting to pace back and forth with your fists yanking your hair. You turn to the balcony doors, and run to them, slamming them wide open before looking out into the distance. You see the moon, as bright and big as ever, yet Metia no longer shines in its vibrancy. You hear a howl and see Torgal and Jill, Jill’s head tilted down as her body continues to shake. Jill’s connection with Metia was enough to tell you that something terrible has happened: Clive is dead.

You back away from the door, utter disbelief and pain seeping into your lungs. He promised. He promised he would return to me. Your mind keeps reeling, and next thing you know you find yourself in Clive’s bed, wrapping yourself in his covers tightly to encapsulate his lingering scent. Sobs devastate your body, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. But you embraced it, for you wish you could stop breathing all together in this moment. 

You fall asleep with choked up airways and puffy eyes, dreams full of a future that’s no longer possible. You dream of him and him alone. You fall asleep in the dead of night, missing the sun greet Valisthea into a new era.

Day 5

Clive would’ve thought he was dead if it weren’t for the loud thumping in his head. He slowly comes to, the first thing he sees being light. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, his eyes working overtime against the strain. He feels sand, and hears the sound of waves. He goes to move his fingers when he notices he can’t move the ones on his left hand. He brings his left arm to his view and sees his hand is completely petrified. He couldn’t see the rest of his arm, but could feel the lack of blood and flesh ending right above his elbow. He pushes himself up with his good arm, hunching over in his spot as he breathes the salty air deeply.

Origin. He had defeated Ultima. The crystal in the sky was destroyed and now he finds himself here on this beach. Based on his surroundings, he concludes he is on the coast of Storm, even though the dark coast was no longer dark, but bright. It could have easily been mistaken for a coastline off of Valisthea, but behind him were still the dead brush of the continent. 

He wonders how long he’s been out for. He vaguely remembers waking up, but not long enough to recollect anything. He reaches up to his face to touch his facial hair, feeling the scruff that has grown out slightly. A few days, he thinks. It was a mere few days ago when he left the Hideaway with Dion and his brother, and now he is the only one left. It burns him up inside knowing he couldn’t save them, and the fact he watched his brother die not once, but twice weighs heavy on his heart. Especially because if Ultima hadn’t chosen him as his vessel, he most likely would have become the Phoenix and Joshua would be alive and safe. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but alas.

Clive knows it does no good to think this way. Just like he would have done anything to save Joshua, he knows just as well Joshua would’ve done everything to save him. He knew Joshua would want him to help bring Valisthea and Storm into a new age. And most importantly, he knew Joshua wanted him to be happy, and deserved as much. I cannot delve into what was, but what can. And what he can focus on is the future, especially one with you. 

Clive suddenly remembers the lily you had given him, and scrambles to retrieve it from his pant pouch with some difficulty due to one available hand. He felt its petals, still smooth and soft, and pulled it out to see it still looked brand new. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes watering slightly. He almost couldn’t believe that after everything it had managed to stay in one piece, but he knew it was because you had blessed him with it. You had grown it, cared for it, and plucked it for him, and it was his turn to care for it. Just as well, it was time to keep his promise: to come back to you. He has been away for too long, and he must make haste now.

Clive sighs and slowly starts to stand up, gathering his bearings so as to not get too dizzy.  He stands still for a moment, breathing in deeply once more to ensure he won’t collapse before assessing his situation. He will need a boat. He thinks he could find a port somewhere, and worse comes to worse he travels to Waloed to get one there. He will need to eat something to gain some semblance of energy to do said travel. The biggest obstacle for him will be his arm, a heavy weight on his body that doesn’t help his fatigue. He will have to find something to make it more manageable until he can get back to the Hideaway.

He starts to walk up the beach towards the woods; body heavy from his wet clothes, stone arm, and tired eyes. But he will move forward, for you are waiting back home for him and his safe return. No matter the cost, he will make it home to you. 

“Darling, wait for me. I’m coming home.”

Day 14

It has been two weeks since the end of Origin, and to say you haven’t been grieving well is an understatement. You have a hard time getting out of bed these days, and your motivation to do anything is abysmal. You know your numbness is unsettling to other Hideaway members, many not knowing what to say when they see you. It’s like they saw you change overnight; your happy, go lucky self now tainted with expressionless reactions.

Gav has officially transitioned as the new Cid, but has yet to move into what will be his new room. He only comes in to do some paperwork, and read his latest messages. Oftentimes he will come to you, asking if he can get you anything, and he gets the same response from you every time: a subtle shake of your head. You are grateful that he lets you stay here as the smell of Clive’s sheets is the only thing keeping you from breaking all together. 

You had forced yourself out of bed today to go to the Backyard. You sat beside the flower bed, staring at the flowers hoping for something to happen. Flowers were your comfort for a long time, and now it is like they have no effect at all. You look at the lilies that are off to the side, and all you can do is scoff. Reunion my foot. 

You hear footsteps and paws coming down the stairs. You know it is Torgal and Jill, especially when Torgal has been stuck to Jill’s side for the last two weeks. You can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be around you either. 

“You came to pay the flowers a visit. They’ve missed you.” 

“They aren’t very good at showing it.” You shrug. You have been here for a few hours, and your mood hasn’t changed. You feel empty.

“Hortense is holding a sewing class for some new arrivals. You should come and say hi.” Jill says gently, not wanting to make your mood shift further south. 

Deep down, you know you’ve let Jill down. You had promised to be there for her like she had with you, yet your own self pity refuses to acknowledge your lack of empathy. The demon residing in your brain just tells you that no one understands. It doesn’t matter if everyone is grieving about the three’s passing; your happy ending relied on your lover coming back to you. Everyone else can move on, keeping him in their memory. You can’t because a part of you is now dead with him. 

You move to stand up, not wanting to bring her down with you. “They won’t want to see me. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.”

You move to head upstairs when Torgal blocks your walking route, and Jill gets in front of you. She grabs your shoulders, looking at you intently. You can see she is trying hard not to break in front of you, making that deep part of you scream to get over yourself. “Please, _____. You are an important asset to the Hideaway; the Jack of all Trades. I know they would love to meet you. The more kind people like you they meet, the more comfortable they will be here.”

Even since the end of Origin, new arrivals have continued to come in, many wanting to help with the cause. Even though bearers no longer have the power of magicks, it has led to more violence against those with the mark. This has led to everyone working more tirelessly to make strides for a future with new hope reinstated. You have yet to meet many of them, the motivation to do so never in your favor. 

“Clive would want you to continue his legacy.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream how his legacy has taken him away from you. You know your way of thinking is irrational, but the rational part of you is a mountain ready to avalanche. With the last bit you have, you take a deep breath, knowing she is right. He would want you to continue living, even without him. 

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll meet them. I can’t promise I’ll come off as kind. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the strength.”

Jill smiles, brushing hair from your face. “All I ask is that you try. We miss you.”

You three ascend the stairs, Jill locking arms with you as if you’d run away. You make it to the main deck, seeing Hortense and a few new faces sitting in a circle. Hortense waves, signaling you three to join in. “_____, it is so good for you to join us!”

“It’s, um, great to be here.” You say, trying to come off as happy. 

You, Jill, and Torgal join the circle, quick introductions being passed around before Hortense starts her lesson. She is doing a lesson on basic sewing techniques using cross-stitching circles, showing everyone different patterns, styles, and methods for different types of fabrics. One of the new arrivals, Greta you remember her name being, was looking at your stitching constantly. You turn to look at her, and she quickly turns away. You look at her work, and you can tell she is struggling a little bit. 

“Hey,” you say slightly above a whisper. “Try this.”

You show her a trick when it comes to tightening the thread, making it so it won’t want to fall apart. “Okay, now you try.”

Greta follows your method to a T, going slowly as she does it from memory. She smiles, seeing how well it worked. “That’s genius! Thank you so much!”

You nod, going back to your own work with a subtle smile on your face. You remember when you first learned how to sew, and how difficult it was for you. You remember when you had to learn on your own, Hortense having too much on her plate. You forgot how good it was to help others, and even if this feeling is for a moment, you feel lighter. You face Jill to see her glancing at you, a grin on her face as she continues messing with her circle of fabric. You know she is punching the air in success in her mind right now.

The session lasts for roughly an hour, and Hortense puts it to a close. “I’ll hold another class next week. Feel free to practice in the meantime.”

‘Yes ma'am’ is said in unison, and everyone departs to get ready for supper. You and Jill stay behind, helping Hortense put stuff away and create small chatter. As you all finish up, you pull Jill aside, feeling the need to say something. “Jill, I want to thank you. But most importantly, I want to apologize for not being there for you as well. I promise to do better by you.”

“Oh, _____,” Jill coos, bringing you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I understand your pain. We will get through this.” 

You two continue like this, and all you can think is maybe this is a new start. Maybe you can start grieving in a better way than you have been. You know it won’t happen overnight, but after days of feeling like you’ve been dragged into a hole, you sense you can see the light. 

Someone is yelling from afar, and you pull back to see a woman walking quickly to Hortense, a basket of what looks to be freshly clean linens in her hands. You and Jill walk over to see the commotion, only to see another new face. Hortense motions you two over, grinning from ear to ear with the woman beside her. “Ah, _____! I don’t think the two of you have met. This is Willow. She’s been helping me a lot with many of the laundry duties.” 

“Oh Lady _____, it is so lovely to meet you.” Willow says, bowing her head slightly. “Also, lovely to see you again Lady Jill.”

You bow slightly, not used to such formalities towards yourself. Jill chimes in, glee in her tone. “You as well. Thank you for helping Hortense during this time. I know she surely appreciates it.”

“Of course!” Willow chirps. “I was coming over here to tell her the linens for the beds are done. Lady ____, I was able to clean your sheets as well so you will have a freshly made bed for tonight.”

You stop breathing, your ears deceiving you. “W-what?”

Willow was still smiling, not catching on to the atmospheric shift. “Your sheets! Hortense got me to get all the bed linens for a wash, but I went ahead and had your bed made as a good gesture.” 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your vision is starting to blur. She cleaned the sheets. She cleaned Clives sheets. Not yours, but Clives. The one thing you had left of him, the one thing that still smelled like him, the one thing that made it feel like he wasn’t completely gone from the world, vanishing right before your eyes. You are starting to breathe hard, everything around you is no longer real. It is just you being thrown back into your suffocating glass box, and being thrown back into that dreaded hole. You can hear voices, but can’t distinguish what is being said. It’s when you feel a hand on your shoulder that the glass shatters, leaving you bloody in the dark, dank hole. 

You collapse, the flood gates opening with shrieks and agonizing sobs. You are hitting the wood, small splinters digging into your fist as you continue. You didn’t care because no pain was more painful than what you are feeling right now. You hear running, and more commotion in the background.

“There is nothing to see here, take your leave.” It’s Gav. It fucking Gav.

“_____, please get up. What happened?” 

“This is my fault.” Hortense says mortified. “I didn’t tell Willow that room was off limits.”

Your breathing is now rapid, sucking air and pushing it out because it isn’t enough. Arms wrap around you and you thrash around, yelling and screaming to let you go. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Gav has you upright and the rage you are now feeling bubbles out, turning into hitting his chest. “You are the only other person that goes in there, and you didn’t notice the fucking sheets were gone?! How could you let this happen?!”

“Please, _____. I just got back from Lostwing. I haven’t been there since early this morning.” Gav reasons, getting a grip on you with your arms secure so you wouldn’t do something you regret. 

“That was all I had left of him.” You wail. “All I had was his scent and now it’s gone! It’s all fucking gone! He’s gone!” 

“I got her from here. You three go have dinner.” Gav picks you up bridal style, walking up the main deck stairs. You are still crying, and your vision is blurry but you can still make out what is behind you. Willow is hugging Hortense, both visibly upset. But then you see Jill, who is standing there looking at the ground, none moving. Torgal is nudging her, but she won’t budge. 

I’m sorry, Jill. I broke my promise.

Day 31

One month. It has been one month since Clive’s death, and you are no longer alive; a living corpse that lays in bed for days and days on end. You only get up to use the privy chambers, but other than that you lay there. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. The idea of going to the Backyard, to the Shelves, or even the Ale House is unappealing. Gav usually brings you food, sometimes Jill, but you barely touch it. You eat a little, but your appetite is non-existent; you eat only when your stomach tells you to. 

People don’t visit you like they did. Sometimes Jill, Tarja, and even Jote would come in for a short time. They would try talking to you, they would rub your side to bring comfort, they would brush your hair, yet you wouldn’t react. Those visits have slowly dissipated, and you can’t blame them. 

You hate what Clive’s passing has turned you into. You never thought grief would transform you so poorly. Grief isn’t new to you, just as it isn’t new for most people in the realm. You grieved when your parents passed, you grieved when Hideaway members didn’t return from missions, you grieved when Titan and his Dhalmekian goons killed so many innocent people in the Old Hideaway. But Clive is your one true love; the one man that was able to intertwine his soul with yours. They say once the soul has been torn into two, it never fully recovers. 

You get up from the bed with all the strength you can muster. As you stand, you face the mirror from across the room, and what you see makes you shutter. You walk over slowly, not quite believing that it is you in the reflection. Your fingertips drag along the cool surface, slightly dissociating in the process. What was once full and bright features were now hollowed from lack of sleep, crying, lack of appetite, and the grief that’s swallowing you.

“By the Founder, I look dreadful.” 

You want to heal. You want to get better. Your soul is waiting for your shell of a body to hatch, so it may continue to live. But how can you do that in a place where everywhere you look, you see him? Every corner of the Hideaway is covered with Clive’s aspirations, dreams, and ideas. If you want to move on, to grieve healthily, you can’t stay here. You need to be somewhere that takes you back to a time before Clive.

The moon shines brightly in the room, giving you enough light to maneuver around. You pack a small bag of your belongings, only with things that would benefit your travels, and dress yourself in clothes to protect you from the elements. Once situated, you walk over to what was once Clive’s desk and sit down. You grab the quill and a scroll, and look at the blank paper. Your eyes start to water, knowing this decision will ruffle some feathers, and will create a form of worry you won’t be here to satiate. You think about getting back into bed and forgetting about what you are about to do, but you know this is a must. You are holding everyone in the Hideaway back, and you can’t support the cause if you aren’t getting better. 

You must do this, so therefore you write. 

-

“What do you mean she left?” Jill raises her voice, the shock clear in her tone. 

Gav had come into Clive’s old chambers to send some letters out to town leaders when he saw the bed was empty and made, with a scroll lying on top of the pillow. When Gav opened it, and read the words on the page, he immediately called for an urgent meeting with the main Hideaway members. 

“She left this on the bed.” Gav states solemnly, passing it to Otto who is on his right. “Long story short, she doesn’t want to be found. She didn’t give a direct location to where she was heading. All she said is she will send word when she is ready to communicate.”

“She isn’t in the right state of mind to go out by herself!” Tarja says with irritation. “What is she thinking?!”

“How would she have even left? We only have one boat, no?” Tomes questions.

“We have a second boat in case the one Obolus uses is in need of repair.” Otto mutters, looking at the scroll a tad longer before passing it off to the next person. 

Jill stands up from her seat, huffing as she turns to take her leave. Gav stands with her, already reading her mind. “Where the bloody fuck you think you’re going?!

“Rather than us wasting our breath, I’m going to go find her!” Jill shouts, frustration built into her face. 

Tarja stands up quickly to grab Jill’s arm. “Now wait a damn second. We need a plan before we start going out willy nilly.”

“As you said, she isn’t in the right mindset to be out by herself. She could be dead in a ditch for all we know.” Jill seethes, pissed that nobody seems to be as fearful for her friend as she is. 

“She is strong, Jill.” 

Everyone turns to Jote, who is never one to chime in unless need be. She is holding the scroll, looking at it as she speaks. “I don’t know her as well as you all may, but from what I do know she is very resilient. She wouldn’t leave unless necessary, and this letter proves as much.”

Everyone is quiet, thinking caps on as they process Jote’s words. The first words spoken after the pregnant silence is Otto, turning to Gav seriously. “Gav, you are the leader of the Hideaway now. It is your call.”

Gav ponders for a moment, a bit torn of what action is best to take. You are family and he wants to know you are safe. He also doesn’t want to get in the way of what you need to do to get better. He fears sending Hideaway members out to find you will make things worse. 

“I think,” Gav pauses, sighing in the process. “I will alert town leaders around Valisthea to keep their eyes peeled for her. If she doesn’t want to be bothered, we shouldn’t intrude. Getting a location on her though would be beneficial for us to ensure she is at least safe.”

“Gav is right,” Otto agrees. “She will need to go into towns for essentials and will probably pass through a few.”

“If we don’t hear anything within a month's time, we will start sending out some search parties, but as I said we cannot bother her if we find her. We have to hope she will reach out to us when she is ready.” Gav continues, giving everyone a once over to see if his words are reciprocated.

Agreements are shared, some more hesitant than others, before Gav dismisses everyone to their daily duties. When the last person leaves, Gav collapses into his seat, taking deep breaths as he runs his hands over his face. 

“May Greagor be with you, _____.” Gav whispers to himself.

Day 40

You can’t sleep, constantly shifting under the covers with no sense of relief. You feel hot, which is abnormal for this cool night. You start to burn up, skin flaring until it starts to burn. You sit up, panicking as you throw the covers off of you before you freeze, breath caught in your throat. In the moonlight, there is a figure sitting across the room from you, head bowed down with arms in their lap. You panic in silence, not knowing whether to fight or flight.

“You’re awake.” That voice. You know that voice all too well. 

“C-Clive?” You stutter, not trusting your voice to break the quiet. 

Silence suffocates the room. You wait for a response, but he just sits there. You move off the bed and walk towards him slowly, feeling off about what you are experiencing. He’s dead. Metia’s star went out. This can’t be real.

You are standing in front of him now, your bare toes touching his boots. He still doesn’t move, so you move your hands to his head, messing with the strands of hair from his head. “Clive, is it really you?” 

“You left.” You pause, his tone off. Is he not happy to see me?  

“Clive, I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“And yet, you still left.” He growls, finally moving his hands to grip your waist tightly, on the verge of pain. “You promised to wait for me. You broke that promise.”

“Clive,” you choke. “I’m sorry I-”

“You broke your promise to Jill.”

“I didn’t mean to!” 

“You abandoned the Hideaway, my legacy, like it was nothing!”

“Clive, you’re hurting me.” You are crying now. His fingers are digging into your side hard, and you look to see he is shaking with anger. 

“This is nothing in comparison to how you have hurt me!” He yells, and he lifts his head, causing you to gasp. His eyes are orange, glowing bolder and bolder the more worked up he got. You try to pry his grip off of you, but to no avail. 

“Please, Clive!” You cry harder. “I love you, I'm sorry for leaving! I should have stayed!”

“You are too late, _____.” He seethes. 

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

You shoot up from your bed, screaming in a cold sweat. You look around the room like a mad woman, trying to gauge your surroundings. A wave of nausea overcomes you and you fall to the floor, vomiting from the absolute madness that occurred in your head. You dry heave on the floor, waiting for the next course of nausea to arrive but it never came. You sat up so your back was against the bed, relieved you weren’t going to be sick again, yet frustrated all the same.

You arrived in Dhalmekia four days ago. Originally, you set out to find your childhood home where you grew up with your parents, but when you arrived at the village off to the left of the Northern Velkroy, it had all but been abandoned. Your home, that was left with memories of your old life, ravaged from what you could assume to be bandits. So you kept going, hitchhiking a few rides before traveling on foot. That is when you found a small, two room cottage down in the Fields of Corava, a place you weren’t aware of, having never been south of Dalimil. There was minimal damage; a broken window and some chipped flooring. It was a better place to stay for the time being.

Ever since arriving, however, your mind has conjured terrible dreams with it being the same every time. It was always you and Clive in this room with him degrading your worth. The first night didn’t feel real, knowing that Clive would never act as such with you. But tonight, after having it for the fourth time in a row, your heart is waning.

You stare at the chair you saw Clive in, an increasing amount of anguish washing over you as you look. He’s gone. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to ground yourself. He’s gone. You start to choke on air, not wanting the cries of grief released from your lungs. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s fucking gone!

The shell cracks, the quiet night becomes piercing as you scream. You shoot up to the chair, taking it and bashing it into the floor. You keep screaming, the splinters from the chair and the floor growing with each smack. No matter the ache your body is having, the adrenaline rushing through your it has given your grief new purpose; a cathartic event that is shaping your mentality.

The chair is nothing but wood; the bare bones of it. You get up to open the door, chucking the wood outside the door with rage. The splintered wood digs into your hands, your emotional distress covering any semblance of physical pain. Your screams have turned into wails, angry tears dripping from your face to the floor. 

This rage inside of you stirred by grief makes you feel like you're dying. If anyone told you that Clive’s death would make you transform into the living dead, you’d laugh. How could anyone make you feel dead when you were the cheerful jack of the Hideaway? 

The wood is now dispersed all across the field before you, bathing in the pure light of the moon. You sink into the cottage where the dark swallows you, slamming the door shut and sliding down it as your body continues its assault. Your bloody hands grip at your hair as you rock back and forth, chanting the same two words over and over.

He’s gone.

Day 70

The atmosphere at the Hideaway was the same like any other day. People were up doing their tasks or simply enjoying the day; it has been the same old, same old. 

That is, until the bell on the pier sounded off.

“What is going on?!” Jill yells, everyone looking over the main deck to see the commotion. The bell is only used for emergencies, like if an enemy were to approach the Hideaway. However, Jill sees that people weren’t panicking, but rejoicing. 

Gav runs up to Jill alarmed, trying to get a sense of what’s happening. “Oh fuck me! What’s going on?!” 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jill says, her and Gav picking up the pace as they walk to see the situation at hand; both ready to take action. The two of them push through the crowd, finally reaching the railing that sees over the pier. The first instant Jill looks down, a gasp is let out with her hand covering her mouth and eyes bulging. 

“No fucking way,” Gav whispers, not quite believing what he is seeing.

But their eyes do not betray them, for the bell has rang not for an emergency situation, but a message that he is alive. Clive is alive. 

“He made it… Great Greagor he fucking made it!” Gav cheers.

“Clive!” Jill yells.

Clive looks up to the main deck to see two of his cherished friends, and right as he makes eye contact with them, he makes a run for the lift. Gav and Jill follow his lead, running in the direction he is to come to officially greet him. The minute Clive steps out from the lift, Gav and Jill are on him, hugging him tightly to make sure he isn’t here to haunt the place.

“You’re alive!” Jill elates.

“I apologize for my late return. I didn’t realize I’d be sorely missed.” Clive jokes, watching as more people gather around them.

“Are you kidding? This place has been falling apart without you!” Gav exaggerates.

It makes Clive chuckle, placing his hand on Gav’s shoulder as he pulls back. “Seeing all the new faces, I doubt that. And that is thanks to you. Thank you for keeping the Hideaway safe.”

Clive feels something rub his leg, and looks to see Torgal rubbing his head against him. He bends down, using his good arm to rub behind Torgal’s ears. “Torgal, have you been a good boy since I’ve been away?”

“Clive,” Jill gasps. “You’re arm.”

During Clive’s travels back home, his arm had become more of a nuisance if anything. He is a strong man; he can wield swords made of the heaviest metals, no problem. But to have an appendage weigh more than the other, well, that is a whole different situation. He had ripped part of his cape and created a sling to keep his arm in place, making travel more bearable.

Clive stands up straight, rubbing his stoned arm. “Yeah… I didn’t get away completely unscathed.” Clive draws out. “But nevertheless, we won.”

“What of Joshua and Dion?” Jill asks, even though the look in her eyes tells him she already knows. All he could do was shake his head.  

“I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Clive says, having much to tell. 

“You will, but not before we get your arm sorted out.”

“Of course,” Clive chuckles, and turns to see Tarja with her arms crossed and hip out. He is so happy to be back amongst friends and family, ready to truly cherish his time after a battle where he could have easily perished. But most importantly, he is ready to see you.

Truth be told, Clive’s travels back to Valisthea were consumed mostly by you. All he could think about was how he craves for you to be in his warm embrace, giving him kisses and caresses that would heal him for a lifetime. To be away from you for so long is agony, and what has kept him going was knowing the future is now his and yours; one where you both can live lives worth living. 

He looks around and sees a bunch of familiar faces approach, his original crew gathering around him as they welcome his return. He scans the crowd, nodding to everyone and granting a smile. However, he doesn’t see you within the sets of familiar faces. 

“Where’s _____?” Clive asks, scanning the crowd once more for your face.

Everyone goes silent, glancing at one another trying to communicate. An uneasy feeling settles in Clive’s pit, not liking the reaction he got with his simple question. 

Tarja is the first to speak up, diverting the question quickly with urgency. “We can talk about her later, but first we need to do something about your arm straight away. Jill. Gav. Take him to the infirmary. I’ll be up there shortly.” There was a look in Tarja’s eyes that told Clive she wouldn’t be there for a while, which made that uneasy feeling grow bolder. 

Gav and Jill suddenly hook arms with Clive on either side, walking fast so he had no choice but to follow. Clive could feel himself getting frustrated, having wanted to see you for days upon days and not being granted that wish immediately upon his return. 

He leans down to Jill’s ear, needing an explanation immediately. “Where is she?”

“It is better we explain once we are upstairs.” Jill reasons, although there is a shake in her voice.  

The four of them get into the infirmary, Jill and Gav situating Clive on a cot. Gav whispers to Jill, her nodding in response as he jogs out of the room. Clive looks at her, a million thoughts running through his head at their peculiarness. 

“Jill, what is happening?”

Jill twiddles her thumbs, taking deep breaths as she prepares herself. She looks down at the floorboards, and Clive can feel the tension in the room. “Some things happened while you were away, Clive.” Her breath trembles. “You aren’t going to be happy with what I’m about to say.”

“You are worrying me, Jill.” Clive says, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me what’s happened.”

Jill looks up, eyes starting to gloss over. She places her hands over Clive’s right hand, squeezing it gently. “The night of Origin. Metia’s star went out, and I couldn’t feel you anymore after that. I thought you were dead.

“Jill,” Clive says in a low tone. “I apologize for causing so much grief.”

“We all thought you died.” Jill laughs solemnly. “Seeing you right now doesn’t feel real.” 

Clive squeezes Jill’s hands as a means to comfort her, as well as to urge her to continue. She shakes her head, tears as icy Shiva’s magick slipping down her face. “We all took it very hard. Some held hope, but after weeks of no signs of your return, everyone had accepted it.”

Jill’s breath stutters. “But Greagor, Clive. _____ took it so hard.” The tears started to fall, Jill shaking as she continued. “She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat… oh Greagor she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She would just lay there no matter what we tried to do.”

Clive thinks his heart just tore. The thought of you like that made him ill. And the past tense of Jill’s words make the air all the more suffocating.

“Where is she, Jill? Let me see her, please.” He pleads, needing to show you that he lives and has come back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Jill cries, her head bowing onto their intertwined hands. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

“Jill talk to me, please!” He begs before hearing the door to the infirmary open, only to see Gav with a small scroll in his hand. 

“Gav, you need to tell me what has happened.” Clive says sternly, knowing another second longer with no answer will send him into a frenzy. 

Gav shows him the scroll, making Clive gently let go of Jill’s hands to reach for it but before he could grab it Gav backed away. “When you read this, know that we have plans enacted.”

Gav hands it to him, taking another step back to give Clive more space. Clive unravels the scroll quickly, the need for answers strong. And he gets his answer, but that answer makes his skin run cold and go hot at the same time.

Gav,

I apologize for putting this on you. I know your transition as the new Cid has been a lot, and I am sorry for making it much harder for you. This space is yours now. Not Clive’s, nor mine.

You know as well as the others I am not well. A part of me died the day Clive passed, and being here has made any progress of healing not happen. Truth is, I see him everywhere. Everything here reminds me of him, and it’s killing me because one moment I see him and the next I don’t. The grief that has consumed me has become everlasting. 

By the time you read this, I will be far gone. Please, I beg of you, do not come find me. Do not send anyone to come find me. I will not come back, at least for now. Any chance of me getting better is for me to go out there, not stay here. I know this will cause worry, and I apologize for being a nuisance, but I have no choice. It’s either I die out there trying or I stay here rotting. 

Tell the others I’m sorry, especially Jill, and take care of her. Once I’m ready, I’ll send word of my whereabouts. Until then, please let me grieve in peace.

Much obliged,

_____

Clive is seeing red. His fist starts to squeeze the paper, crackles and the sound of a tear coming from it. “When did she leave?” 

“It’s been about a month.” Gav mutters, and everything that happens next is a blur. Clive shoots up from the bed, charging towards Gav before slamming him into the door.

“Clive, please don’t!” Jill cries.

“She’s been gone for a month?! And you have yet to find her?!” Clive yells, his fist gripping tightly onto Gav’s leathers.

“We have notified people on the outside to keep us posted.” Gav tries to reassure. “That is what the Hideaway members have agreed on.” His words do nothing to soothe him. If he still had his magick, he is sure hellfire would rain on the Hideaway.

“She needed time, Clive.” Jill rests her hand on his shoulder. “We chose to respect her wishes.”

He scoffs, backing away from the both of them, disbelief clear on his features. “You agreed to this too?”

“You were not here to witness what we did!” Jill yells agitated. “Clive, I understand your frustration, but if you saw how she was you wouldn’t think twice.”

He wants to stay angry, put the blame on someone selfishly. You’ve done so much for the Hideaway, the cause, everyone involved. How could they let you leave? But all he feels is defeat. He came too late, and now he needs to make up for lost time.

“Excuse me,” Clive mutters, walking towards the door Gav is still leaning against. 

Jill shoots herself to grab the upper half of his petrified arm, a grunt forced out at the pulling tension. “Clive, you need to stay right here so Tarja can do something about your arm.” 

“No, I am going to go out and look for her! She needs to know I’m alive!” He tries shaking her grip off his arm, but to no avail as she holds on tighter. Panic is starting to set in, not knowing where you are and if you are safe freaking him out. It is almost as if he is experiencing firsthand what you went through. 

Gav steps forward, putting his hands on Clive’s shoulders shaking him slightly. “We have cursebreakers looking for her daily now that the month of her leave has passed. We will find her. And now that you are back, we will bring her home.” 

“Once you are better, we will go with you to search for her. But for right now, you need to rest. Let the cursebreakers do what they’ve been assigned to do.” Jill reassures. “Let’s get you ready for Tarja. The sooner she can fix you up, the faster you can go out.”

Clive takes a deep breath before nodding, and lets Jill and Gav guide him back to the cot. He sits back down, and all he can do is look down at the floorboards. Anger and defeat have turned into a sadness he cannot fully comprehend; a feeling he hasn’t quite felt before. “Do you two mind giving me some time alone? Please.”

“Of course, Clive. We will be outside if you need anything.” Jill says, before the sound of four feet patter across the floor and the creak of the door opens and closes, leaving Clive completely alone.  

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that; unmoving, eyes glued to the floor. All he thinks is he should have found a way to send a message to you so you knew he had survived. Deep down, he knows there was nothing he could have done given his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop the blame game he is putting upon himself. So he sits there, wallowing in his heartache as his shoulders shake and throat lets out faint sobs.

The letter is still held tightly in his grasp. 

Day 71

Waking up early in the morning before the sun makes its greeting isn’t abnormal for you, not when you dream constantly. Sometimes your dreams would startle you. Sometimes they would make you wake up crying. Sometimes they would wake you up with a smile on your face. But the time is always the same; the moon is always there to tell you the time of the morning and you fall back into a deep sleep before the sun shows itself. However, this time is different. 

In recent days, you’ve had nothing but wonderful dreams. Not ones like when you first came here, or ones about a future no longer possible. They were dreams of the past, deja vu in nature. Fond memories of you and Clive ranging from the first time you laid eyes on him to the last. What’s different about your calling back to the real world is your eyes open to hues of yellow and orange shining through the window. It is not the moon’s beams that greet you, but the sun’s rays.

You get out of bed and go to the door, opening it to step out onto the field. The early morning air hits your skin, the grass licking at your feet as you continue forward. You trek to the spot between the elevated land, a v-shape displaying the rising sun as it continues its ascent. Your hand goes out in front of you, watching your skin transform as the sun’s colors grow brighter. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you because all you feel is peace. For once since Valisthea changed forever, you felt like everything will be okay. 

You think about the first time you and Clive watched the sunrise together, holding each other tightly as you both talk about how it is a new day full of hopes and dreams. You remember him telling you how he has never felt more alive than he did in that moment, and you can understand why; you understand because you feel the same. 

You know Clive would want you to live to the fullest, for that was what he wanted all along. Even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have, he would have wanted you to live for him, but most importantly for yourself. He would want you to remember your time together fondly, and that it wasn’t for nothing. It was everything. 

You inhale deeply, the scents of the morning filling your airways before you exhale. You continue to look out on the horizon, mesmerized by the beauty of a new day; a new start .

“I deserve to be happy, right Clive?” You whisper to yourself. “I will continue to live for you and for me. Starting now.”

This is the start of your new life. 

Day 172

“These are absolutely beautiful, my lady. These are so hard to find in Dhalmekia.” 

You smile brightly, watching the woman before you admire your handy work. “I’m pleased that you love them. Morgenbeards are native to the swampy waters in Rosaria, but I was able to get my hands on some seeds.”

“You must know your stuff to get them to grow here.” The lady continues.

You shake your head, grinning at her. “I have my ways.”

To say things have gotten better would be the greatest understatement in history because you are thriving. It is as if everything has fallen into place. You fixed up the small cottage you are residing in so it felt more like a home rather than a temporary visit. You did a lot of prep work to ensure you’d live comfortably. The greatest thing, however, is you found a way to make a living for yourself, the one thing you do best: grow flowers. 

You noticed how flowers grew in the fields, yet you could tell they needed help; the Dhalmeky dirt too dry to keep them alive for long. You were able to get some books on flower gardening, along with different kinds of seeds, all imported from merchants who graciously accepted the little gil you had. It took some time, but those things helped you open a flower shop out of your home. And thus far, it has been a wonderful success.

You had taken a flower cart to Dalimil to get your name out there, and to let people know where to find your business. You eventually want to move your business within the inn’s market, but when you had come to propose the idea, you found out Lubor had been gone on an expedition. The cart will have to do, you recalled thinking. The people there have been nothing but supportive, offering their business in exchange for theirs: vases, business signs, gardening supplies, etcetera. It was a good system that benefitted you and them. You were grateful.

You are sitting at the kitchen table, having closed shop for the day, sipping on some hot tea as you write down your daily earnings. A hard day’s work is rewarding, and knowing your flowers have made your customers happy makes you happy. To be doing things that feel worthwhile feels good, and the last time you felt this way was when you lived at the Hideaway.

The Hideaway. You stop writing as you reminisce about those times. It really wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like a lifetime. Have I changed that much? 

You miss everyone dearly. You miss Tarja’s tough love. You miss Mid’s inventiveness. You miss Otto’s gruffness. You miss Tome’s stories of his travels. You miss Jote’s coolness. You miss Gav’s banter. You miss Torgal’s way of comforting you. You miss Jill’s faith. You miss everyone. You often wonder if they miss you too.

You are surprised no one has come looking for you, or have found you if they were. You think about what they must have thought when you left that letter. Were they angry? Sad? Worried? All three? Did they listen to you when you said you didn’t want to be found or did they nonstop look day and night for you? You couldn’t tell. Not unless you find out for yourself. 

You set the daily earnings paper aside, and lay out a fresh one, your quill hovering over the paper as you think of what to say. There are so many words to say, yet you don’t know where to start. Do you share everything? Do you just tell them you are okay? Do you tell them where you are? So many questions to answer with little paper to write it all out. So you write something simple, hoping it gets the message across.

I hope this finds you well. Come see me if you wish. You all know where to find me.

Day 179

Clive’s search for you has been non-stop, days and nights spent looking for trails only to find dead ends. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you could have disappeared without a trace. But that will not deter him. He will not stop looking until he finds you.

Every place that Clive could think of they checked. Areas in Dhalmekia were the first places they looked, knowing you knew the area better than others. The very first place they checked was your childhood home near the Northern Velkroy, but it didn’t look like there were any signs of life there. Different towns within the area were checked but no one had heard or seen you. Hell, they were more surprised to see him alive and well to focus on the whereabouts of a lost woman. He understood, but it grated his nerves. 

Every other place in Valisthea had been scouted and marked as they went, but every location and mark was the same. So here he was, writing letters to town leaders of the cause again to be his eyes. You have to show up somewhere eventually, if you haven’t already. 

As every day passes, his heart wanes further. It yearns for you, calling out its other half to be complete again. When he does rest, granted not for long periods of time, he imagines you are lying with him. He holds a pillow close in his arms, picturing it to be you to subdue his crazed heart and mind. It was nice to pretend, but then he wakes up and is sorely disappointed to see what lies in his arms is just that: a pillow. It’s a cycle because the same thought crosses his mind each and every time: the day you are back in his arms will be a momentous day. That day has yet to come.

He keeps writing the same words over and over on different sheets of paper when he hears commotion from beyond his doors. The fighting instinct in him shoots up, running to the door to see what was happening when he sees Otto, Jill, and Gav running towards him.

“Has something happened?” Clive asks, alarmed. 

Otto reaches Clive first, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “She has communicated with us.”

Clive couldn’t read the paper fast enough, not quite believing this day had come. He rings out the paper to straighten it before reading her handwriting. “She is staying in a cottage in the Fields of Corava.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the lass back!” Gav expresses with full excitement, springs basically on the bottom of his feet with how bouncy he is. 

Jill pats Gav on the back. “Gav, let’s let Clive go alone.” She then turns to face Clive, an understanding smile greeting him. “They will need some time together.”

“Thank you, Jill.” Clive says softly. “I thank all of you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case…” Gav draws out, approaching Clive before slamming his hand on his shoulder, “you better get cleaned up! You have a lady to see.” 

Clive laughs at Gav’s antics, and turns to ready himself; ready himself to return to you once and for all.

Day 184

It’s late in the morning as you gather flowers into your basket, trimming and cutting the ones that have bloomed beautifully. The flower gardens in the field were flourishing more and more every day. The more you work in the gardens, the more fulfillment you feel. You felt this when you helped out in the Backyard, but what you built here is from your own doing. You believe it to be a testament to your growth, showing that you made the right decision all those months ago. You’ve created your own little utopia, and to share it with others is a beautiful thing.

As you cut fresh flowers, you start to wonder if people at the Hideaway got your letter. You would love for them to come visit, and see what you have done with the place. You wonder if they will ever come to see you or if they will send a letter back. It could be any day now, and you will be ready.

You have a full basket of flowers ready to be put in vases, and before you can get up to head inside you see a shadow lingering above your form. “I’m sorry, but I won't be open for another couple of hours.”

There is no reply, and the shadow remains as still as a statue. You sigh, standing up to turn and be more clear with your words. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I still need to se-”

The flower basket falls from your grasp, tumbling out and falling into a heap by your feet. Time has frozen, not feeling real as you look at the person you have longed to see for months. You question if you are hallucinating, having had moments where you would see Clive one second and the next he was gone. This, however, was different.

The man before you was not in uniform; just a simple white tunic that displayed a few of his chest curls at the v-cut and regular black trousers with his leather boots. His face was clean-shaven, the facial hair he had kept for so long absent from his face making him look younger. The biggest difference, however, was his left arm; from his elbow down was gone. How could this be hallucination?

“Am I dreaming or is this real?” You breathe, blinking a few times to see if he’d disappear. He didn’t.

He takes a step forward, grabbing one of your hands to place it over his heart. He is warm, his heart fluttering quickly. He is looking down into your eyes, where you see his baby blues grow glossy. “This is real.” He murmurs. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

Something about his words break you, your hands latching onto his shirt to hold yourself to reality. He’s home. My Clive is home. 

You can’t help the sobs that leave your mouth as you bury your face into his chest, making him wrap his arm around you as you both collapse down into the flower beds. You are feeling every emotion under the sun, and you can tell Clive does too as he holds you in his lap. He cries with you, sharing a reunion so pure that it is overwhelming. You lift your head and bring his face to yours, kissing him so deeply that your lungs shake. Exchanges of small words come out between the two of you as you give each other kisses that have been longed for. 

“I never thought I’d see this day.” You say with a wobble in your tone, kissing him again and again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Clive croaks, and goes back in for your lips.

There you both make up for lost time; holding onto each other in a field of flowers where kisses and touches are continuously exchanged.

- 

You and Clive eventually went inside. You turn the sign on your door to ‘close’, so no one can bother you two. You watch Clive look around the place, taking in your little set up of flowers on the kitchen table.

“I apologize for the mess. I’ve had a lot of requests over the last few days believe it or not.” 

Clive looks at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’ve always had a way with flowers. Speaking of which…”

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out the lily you had given him all that time ago. You gasp, surprised he has kept hold of it. “You still have it? But how?”

“I protected it with my life.” Clive sets it onto the table. “You gave it to me with the wish that I’d return to you. I wasn’t going to lose it easily.”

“You are so endearing.” You say, but you have so many things you want to know and that alone puts a small frown on your face.

Clives sees the shift immediately, grabbing your hand to console you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

“What happened at Origin, Clive?” You ask, needing to know what he went through for the time he was gone.

Clive exhales, seemingly knowing that question was coming. He pulls your hand towards him as he walks to your bed. “We should sit down. It is a long story.”

The two of you sit down and Clive still has a tight hold on one of your hands. “Forgive me, for this may take me a second. Thinking about certain events there still hurts.”

You bring your free hand to his face, which feels smooth under your touch. His head leans into your palm, turning slightly to kiss the delicate skin. “Take all the time you need. I am here.” You murmur. 

And so, he tells the tale of Origin. He tells you about Dion’s sacrifice. He tells you about what he found out about Ultima’s plans. He tells you about Joshua’s passing, something he had a hard time conveying without his voice breaking, but he pushed on. He tells you about Ultima’s demise. He tells you about how he woke up somewhere off the Shadow Coast of Storm. And he tells you how throughout his journey back to Valisthea, all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to come home to you. All of it was hard to listen to, hearing what he went through from Origin till now. 

“So, Metia going out was a sign that magick has been lost…” 

“Mmm,” he hums, the both of you lying down now.

“So that’s why you didn’t become wholly petrified? You stopped it in time.”

“Tarja did a great job removing it and ensuring my stub was healed properly, despite my stubbornness.” He jokes, but you don’t laugh. All you can think about is the past.

“If only I waited a little longer,” you start. “I would have saved us so much grief.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Clive shushes, kissing the top of your head and pulling you closer into his body. “Jill told me you had a very hard time grieving. I will not shame you for doing something you felt was right.

You bury your head into Clive’s neck, breathing in something that is so undeniably him. “You know, when I first got here, I would have these dreams. Nightmares really.”

Clive stays silent, letting you continue. “It would always start and end the same. I would wake up with you in the room, and the next thing I knew you were telling me I had betrayed you… and that you no longer loved me.” You start to sniff, not liking to recall those dreams. “For such a long time, I felt I didn’t deserve to be happy because I had left part of your legacy behind. It felt like your ghost was haunting me day and night.”

“Oh, darling,” Clive pulls you into him so you are on top of him with legs on either side of him. Clive brings your forehead to his, his thumb coming up to swipe the tears building up in your eyes. “I could never not love you.” He looks deeply into you, burning the truth of his heart into you. “I am yours even beyond death.” 

His words overwhelm you, and you lean down to kiss him with every passionate fiber in your being. Your hands go to his torso, running your fingers up and down the sides as you continue to show him how much you love him. He grunts into your lips, his arm holding you down to him. Your hands start to slide slowly under his tunic, your fingers slowly ascending until they reach his chest only to go down again. The delicate touch of your fingers makes his hips buck right against your heat, a grunt and a moan echoing together simultaneously. Your hands go back up again, only this time you bring the tunic with you. 

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” You say against his lips.

Clive smirks at your boldness, only to flip you over on your back so he is hovering over you. “That we do, darling. Forgive me, though. Having one arm gives me less leverage.”

You hum, bringing him back down to you by his hair. “I’m sure we can manage.”

You two make love into the night and into the morning, not getting enough of one another; making up for lost time.

Day 200

Since you and Clive’s reunion, he had decided to stay for a while. He had sent a letter to the Hideaway to let them know you were well and that he would be staying for the time being, making Gav in charge. 

“He’ll love that.” You had joked.

“He’s his own man. I have all the faith in him.” 

These last few weeks have been sublime. When you wake up, you see Clive snoozing away beside you on your right; always the right so he can wrap his arm around you in his sleep. He has also helped you with the flower shop. You two would go out in the morning before the heat set in to work the ground and water the flowers. You don’t know if the yearning in your body has yet to be satiated, but there have been times when you would come outside to gather more flowers to see Clive with his shirt off, sweat glistening on his burly chest as he works. It takes every bone in your body not to jump his own. Most times, you are unsuccessful. 

You also found out Clive is quite the salesman. When you two would go out to Dalimil to sell from your cart, the way he is able to convince people to make a purchase is astounding. Is it the charm? The looks? A combination of both? You could guess, but it didn’t matter. Every time you made a sale, he would turn to give you a quick peck. 

“I would kiss you for every individual flower we sell, but we don’t want to scare them away now, do we?”

After a long day out in Dalimil, you two are now inside the cottage finishing up dinner. You are cleaning the dishes when you feel him behind you, wrapping his arm around you pulling your hips to his. You hum in a laughing manner, his friskiness showing as he places kisses on the side of your face. “Clive, let me finish these.”

“They aren’t going anywhere.” He hums, his kisses lingering below your ear. 

You sigh but continue cleaning. Clive, on the other hand, was not having it. He pulls you away, soap and water sloshing from your hands as he pulls you to him. He plops down onto the kitchen chair, bringing you into his lap. “Hmmm, I got you.”

“You are such a horn dog. Are you sure Ifrit still doesn’t linger within you?” You laugh, then squeak when he pinches your side.

“In all seriousness,” he murmurs in your ear. “I want to talk about something.”

“About?” You hum.

“About our future.” 

“Go on,” you urge. “What about our future?”

“Well,” Clive starts, “living the way we have the last couple weeks, my mind can’t stop wandering to what I want for us.”

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, only for him to nip at the tips of your fingers causing you to giggle. “Such as?”

“To start the life we’ve always talked about.” He places more kisses on your neck. “One where our lives are strictly ours. One where I come home to my beautiful wife.” 

“I like the sound of that.” You mewl, his kisses making you squirm in his lap.

“One where I get to see you bearing our child.” His hand goes down to your tummy, rubbing just above your uterus. 

“I’ll be surprised if I’m not already with all the love making we have done.” You giggle. 

He chuckles along with you, his hand squeezing your flesh. “You’d look beautiful. You always do.” He continues, “one where I get to raise a little me, a little you, or both.”

“It all sounds so wonderful.” You purr, feeling all warm and fuzzy at his remarks. 

“Then let’s go ahead with step one.” Clive says, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down. He kneels before you, both of your hands in his one. “I don’t have a ring, but I can’t wait a moment longer. _____, will you do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

You hum, smiling brightly at his question. “Would you have me in a wedding dress? A big ceremony?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

You shake your head, laughing at his insistence. You look at him, letting yourself get swallowed by his eyes. “I’d marry you with just the clothes on my back.” 

Clive grins, bringing your left hand to his lips as he kisses your ring finger. “I cannot wait to marry you, future Lady Rosfield.”

Lady Rosfield. It has a nice ring to it.

#clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield #ffxvi x reader #ffxvi #clive rosfield angst #clive x reader #final fantasy xvi #my fics

[moumouton4]

"I Have passed by your Demon slayer nsfw headcanon, it was really great! thank you for writing that!🧡

can i request for Muichiro only, one shot nsfw an intimate one? (of course he is aged up, maybe to 18+?) So Muichiro may be comforting the reader after a mission or like could be the reader made a mistake and feels so frustrated with themselves,so Mui will be comforting the reader (they're in a relationship) and will become sweet and intimate with the reader."

~if not possible, it's totally fine~ thank you again! lots of support and love for you writer!🧡✨

A Taste Of Paradise In The Middle Of A Raging Storm || Muichiro Tokito x fem!reader

A/n : Hello lovely ! Here is it and may I say finally ! After 2 days of dealing with those damn cramps 😑 I really hope you'll like it 😍 I don't think I've ever write a fic as a request I think I usually stick with hc 😂

A/n 2 : Muichiro is aged up like all the characters y'all read for and write for from other mangas such as Mha, Assassination Classroom, Gambling School, Tokyo Revengers... so if anyone comes here and complain bro I'mma take the first plane and find you because you've been warned 👀

Summary : Your last mission left you very depressed and doubtful of your abilities. Luckily, your boyfriend is there to remind you what you're really worth. And you'd better believe him, because he's damn right.

Warnings : harsh words in the beginning, reader feels really bad, oral fem!receiver, penetrative sex, Muichiro is aged up, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 2746

Entertainment District a week ago : 

Even hurt and heavily poisoned he said those words loud and clear “You weren’t enough today. I clearly made the wrong choice choosing you”

“No ! I can’t let you say that. Haven’t you seen the devastating force deployed ?!? It swept everything in its p-” you tried to argue back.

“And why are they all dead while you’re still alive ?!?” he bit back. His words were harsh. Your vision blurred with tears and you didn’t even notice his wives who were trying to shush him as best as they could. After this you passed out. Well that’s what Tanjiro told you when you woke up on the way back. Inosuke was kind enough to carry you while you were out.

Back to the Demon Slayer Headquarter :

Since then you have been keeping to yourself. You couldn't stop his words from creeping inside your head. Each time louder than the previous one. You weren’t even angry at Tengen for lashing out at you like this. He was fucking right, you messed up like never before.

You were supposed to keep the people of the area of the Entertainment District your were accounted safe, and yet no one survived. It has left you very frustrated at the whole situation “It’s so damn stupid !” you screamed in your pillow as another rush of tears streamed down your face.

You were so ashamed of yourself. By now everyone must have known what had happened since as a demon slayer you have to write down a report that will be read by the master and the hashiras. Hence the fact you stayed in your room. Little did you know that even Tengen himself in his report stated that the order he gave you back then was impossible to execute. In fact, between the moment he asked you to rush over the south part of the district and the moment the blow devastated the area only 3 minutes had passed. So after running from north to south, you were greeted on the spot by the blast that sent you flying backwards. Your friends could barely imagine how hard it was for you so they preferred not to interfere, leaving you the choice to gather with them whenever you are ready.

There was one person though who didn’t read any of the reports that were written on the said mission, the Mist Hashira, Muichiro Tokito, your boyfriend. It has been a while since you guys have seen each other. Something like 18 days to be exact - 4 days travel to the district, a week of mission, 4 days travel back and the 3 days Muichiro decided to let you rest from all this - but now he started to really miss you a lot so he decided to go to the little place you had in the estate.

The look on his face as he enters your room shows that he's not at all up to date with what happened during your mission. His eyes widen and his mouth slightly hangs agape at the sight of you before him. You are sprawled in your bed, your face buried in your mattress under your pillow as you cry hard. Your body spasming and shivering with force as you pour all your frustration on the wet sheets.

He didn’t hesitate a second before moving swiftly and sitting next to your lying figure on the bed. His hand tentatively reaches for your back wanting to give you some comfort. As it made contact with you, starting to draw slow and soothing circles your breath hitched. You hadn’t heard him with the loudness of your cries. You slowly moved your head from under your pillow to see who it was - even if you had a little idea of who it might be.

Your glassy and red eyes looked up at him trying to focus on his face with your blurred vision. You blinked several times trying to adjust. He instinctively circled his arms around your middle and pulled you flush against him. Your eyes didn’t even have the time to focus, but he couldn’t bear seeing you so sad. Your head was nestled against his neck. As you inhaled the delicate perfume of aloe vera in his hair you were sure it was him.

You weakly responded to his embrace. He didn’t even need to talk, the soothing motion of his hand on your back and the light kisses her peppered your neck with were enough to help your cries subside. He immediately understood that something had gone wrong during your mission. And against his growing curiosity - because when it came to you, he was sometimes curious - he decided not to inquire further.

Once you calmed down you whispered “Thank you for coming over” your voice was quite hoarse.

“Of course Flower always” he said softly, never ceasing the movement of his hand.

After again so time you asked barely above a whisper “D-do you think that I’m not enough ?”

He blinked slowly, trying to process what he had just heard. He wondered if it was a trick of his mind or if you really said what he thought he heard. His grip on you got lighter as he pulled you back to you in the eyes “Reassure me you didn’t just really say that ?” his voice was both soft and firm, his azure eyes fixed in your e/c. He didn’t want to believe the idea could ever cross your mind.

“P-please tell me” you sounded desperate. “Am I not en-” “Rather than telling you I can show you” and as he said that his hands slowly moved from your back to your hips. He massaged you there softly wanting to make sure you were okay with this and also that it could bring you some comfort. He gave your cheek a kiss, before his lips wandered down the side of your neck. He gently nipped at your pulse point. You emitted a soft sound at his ministrations. You were so grateful to have someone like him, who was doing his best to get your mind off of things that bothered you.

“Here let me get you comfortable” he said, his usual tone carrying a hint of affection he rarely expresses openly. He laid you on the bed and continued kissing you. You allowed yourself to close your eyes and focus on something else than what you think is the biggest mistake of your life.

His mouth was soft as he let little kissing on your collarbone. But you couldn’t help but feel them getting warmer as his soft and innocent kisses became open mouthed ones. You could clearly feel him sucking a hickey on your skin. He let it go with a pop before delving back in with his tongue this time to sooth the purplish area. He tried his best to express everything he couldn’t with words with delicate and comforting actions.

His hand didn’t stop either from stroking your sides. But just as his kisses, his touch became bolder as one of his hands gently cupped one of your breasts “Am I succeeding in convincing you ?” he said, his voice slightly muffled against your skin.

But just as you were about to answer, your voice caught in your throat preventing you from saying a word. You were feeling increasingly hot and bothered and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. Somehow feeling your change of state, he looked up at you. His eyes bore into yours and he chuckled quietly at the blush that spread on your cheeks. “Looks like you’re feeling hot. Mind if I take that off” he said, and you nodded allowing him to take your shirt off. 

His eyes sparkled on the curves of your body. No matter how many times he'd done it, he couldn't help staring, as if lost in thought. Like a magnet, his mouth came to rest on your skin, this time inching closer to your chest. You were glad you hadn't worn a bra today, it was a chill day after all.

A low moan came from your mouth as his caught your hardened nipple delicately. He gave it the attention it deserved through gentle suction before moving on to the other. He loved seeing you squirming like that underneath him. It only proved that little by little his efforts were making you relax. His hand snaked up your body before hooking onto the waistband of your pajamas. His mouth kissed its way down your stomach before stopping where her fingers had been. Each kiss screaming at you that **you were enough** that **you were everything he ever dreamed about**.

He waited a beat or two before gently lowering them all at once. Revealing your most intimate part to his - hungry - eyes.

But just as his mouth was about to continue its exploration, this time on your core, you stopped him "Please Muichiro, it's you I-I need. All of you please"

He stopped short, his tongue only inches apart from your already glistening folds. He wanted to make this only about you, but now that you were asking for it, who was he to deny you ? Hashira or not.

But he couldn't resist giving your wet folds a long, lingering lick upwards making your hips buck forward "Mmh sorry that was too tempting" he admits while savoring your sweet taste on his tongue.

After that, he stood up quickly and took off his haori, then his pants. You gulped at the sight of his erection. You always had trouble imagining that an angel's face like his went with such a... well… fit dick. He grabbed a nearby scrunchie of yours that was lying around and quickly fixed his hair.

Once he was ready, he got back on top of you at your level. His body came to rest delicately on yours, mindful not to crush you with his weight. His lips gave a tender kiss to yours as his hips thrust forward, aiming to nestle his cock deep inside you. When you felt the tip of his erection against your entrance you softly whimpered his name. He smiled tenderly "That's it" he thought. You were finally totally focused on him and nothing else that could dampen your spirits.

He entered you slowly, inch by inch. He took his time so that you could get used to his size again, and so that it remained as pleasant for you as it was for him. Even if after so many days of abstinence just want to thrust deeply in one go. He knew it was only a postponement. And right now you needed him. And he was going to do his best to put that smile back on your face.

He, who always had his head in the clouds, was hyper focused on every single reaction of your body. He, who always was so fast during fights. use all his free will to keep his movements as slow as possible. His cock dragging slowly in and out of your tight cunt to let you feel all the contours and veins that ran through them. With words, he couldn't resist using wit, but with gestures, with looks, no filter was possible. Not with you. Not when you're both so vulnerable.

He gently felt your body responding to his, it gave him a confidence boost that he was doing the right thing. Your back arching as he oh so slowly rocked his hips upward rubbing against that spongy spot.

Despite your slow movements, the thoughts in his head kept racing "Do you still have doubts ?", "Why don't you see yourself as I see you ?", "Who put those thoughts in your head ?", "Did he give you enough reason to think that you are enough for him ?"

What snapped him out of his thoughts was your legs tightening around him "M-Muichiro I'm c-" "Shh I know" he said as he felt your velvety walls tighten around him in a delicious way. "Hang on tight" he murmured breathlessly. He has been holding on from pounding into you but as he felt you nearing the edge his resolve crumbled.

His hands found a firm grip on your hips as he began to quicken his pace. In response your arms encircled his body and your nails left red trails down his back. Both your moans grew louder, blending perfectly with the sounds of your lovemaking.

His head nestled against your neck as he kept pounding you. His voice was hoarse like it rarely was - as he didn’t speak that much when you guys usually have sex - “See what you’re doing to me ? I can’t stop myself from having you. So don’t you ever dare saying those words ever again. Understood ?”

Hearing his words you nodded eagerly. You knew that the meaning of his words carried far more than the spoken word in itself. He was demanding not to only say it aloud but never think so little of yourself again either. It was usually with others that he used this kind of tone. But here on you, it just proved that he was really serious and that he wasn't going to be satisfied if you disobeyed him.

"Use your words or I'll slow down" he continued, and you knew that he meant it. He knew how to be stubborn sometimes, especially when it came to taking care of you.

"P-promise... ughh I promise. P-please don't stop !" your voice rushed out in a squeak.

And he didn’t stop. He kept on thrusting with force bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

He felt the coil tighten in his stomach and he really hoped it wouldn't be long before you reached your climax because he wasn't going to last long. He did his best to aim well. In a flash of lucidity he brought his hand down to your clit and started to rub it in a rapid circle.

Suddenly, with a strangled cry, you fell over the edge. He felt you tighten even more, milking his cock just the way it needed to make her throb with pleasure. And just a little later with a few more thrusts he came. Pouring his love as he spilled his seed deep inside of you - I like to think Shinobu makes Plan B pills lmao.

He collapsed on top of you, his cock still nestled into you as his mouth left little wet kisses where he had done the hickey earlier. Your rapid breathing mingled with his. Your bodies were sticking with sweat but you couldn't care less. He hugged you even tighter trying to provide you even more affection and strength. He wanted you to be strong and he knew you were oh so strong usually. Hence his original shock.

As he drifted off to sleep, he heard your little voice say "Thank you for answering me". He knew deep down that he'd have to read all the reports on that famous mission to the Entertainment District later. To find out what it was all about. But for now, he was there, letting himself be carried away by your breaths and the warmth of your body. Maybe this was paradise.

Bonus scenes 🤷‍♀️ :

Maybe as you're still going at it Makio, Suma or Hinatsuru ( or the three ) or maybe Tengen himself - but I think he is too proud for that - come to ask you if you're doing okay. Maybe the wives want ask for forgiveness on the account of their husband.

Either you're still going at it and like their hear from outside some interesting moans and slapping sounds, making them chuckle softly - I fell like the Uzuis are fine with sex lmao. I mean they are 4 👀. So they decided to come back later.

Or when they knock no one answers. You guys are fast asleep on your fûton, completely spent. So they open the door slowly. As One of they is about to talk their eyes land on you snoring on your back while Muichiro is sprawled on ton of you, his face hidden in your neck. With a knowing smile they discretly leave the room that witnessed your love and passion, thinking they might come later once you are fully rested.

~

~

A/n : I added some details of the story in the comments. If you're curious about some other stuff

A/n 2 : If you're wondering and didn't notice the title was a metaphora. The raging storm takes place in Reader's head. Just like the storm under a skull from Victor Hugo in Les Misérables

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

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