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marxo-fm · 2 months

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Take me to Church

✯ John Price x f!reader | Playlist

Summary: A reader who’s so religious that she doesn’t even think of anything close to inappropriate, until she meets her dad’s best friend, Mr. John Price.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mature themes and language, age gap (reader is 25 and Price is in his early 40’s), religious trauma from Catholic variety, dad’s best friend, loss of virginity, pet names, slight aftercare in the end, fear of getting caught from reader, smut, assurance, fingering, reader isn’t all that clueless but super inexperienced, protected PIV, oral (fem! receiving), reader has some troubles with masturbation (failure to finish), Price teaches the reader how to feel good, praising, no descriptions of readers body, race, skin color, ethnicity, hair type/length and body type.

A/N: Currently don’t know wtf I’m doing with my life and how this absurdity came to mind, but aye, I’m all here for it. This was so…..!? Yeah. Also big shout out to Hozier, my icon. Side note: I truly apologize If this fic is rough, I will edit it soon but it’s mostly because I haven’t written in a hot minute, due to school and shit, but I’m back now—and I’m proud of this!

—

The breeze kisses your skin as you soak the sun's warmth on a Friday afternoon. The grass is green, and the clouds are out, summer has just begun. You feel yourself start to come back, you were struggling but now that’s over—for a bit. You look over as you watch your dad chopping wood. Usually, he has his friends helping out, but you guessed they had things to do, which explains why they weren’t here.

You memorized their names.

There’s Gaz, Simon, a man who goes by the name of ‘Soap’—which you find funny and you’re not sure if that’s his real name or if it’s just a nickname—and then…John.

Mr. Price. Or so you call him. Sir or Mr works just fine. But you never explored your unknown and strange feelings for him. How you always felt so shy around his dominating presence, or how his voice sounds like honey and sins. You prayed at night and asked for forgiveness when thinking of such thoughts you’ve never thought of when you see John.

Until one day in high school—in health class—they taught about intercourse and other things that left you baffled and quite scared. Anxious. Curious.

You’d get scolded by your Catholic parents when you asked such things, they say it’s too early to get into these topics, or that you should wait until marriage. Your parents are good, but you always follow their rules. You never once disobeyed, only minor times but you always asked for forgiveness.

You’ve always been a good girl, but Mr. Price always makes the fire in your belly grow. And that fire burns through your veins in an excruciating need for something so sinful. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, but you never fight it off, and that was bad.

“Hey honey, ought to help me out here? The jerks I call my friends are out busy somewhere, c’mon, I’ll teach ya.” Your father motioned his hands as he walked to his area where he chops his wood, you’ve never done this before, but you’re excited. He gives you his axe, and you almost give out due to how heavy it is. “Can’t carry it like that sweet pie, hold it strong and firm.” He instructs.

You do as he says, squinting your eyes to look at his face of approval, “I think I got it.”

He nods and you bring the axe up to your shoulder, and you bring it down with every ounce of strength.

You chopped it.

“Attagirl, that’s one hell of a way to chop down wood.” A man with a deeper voice and a southern drawl said from right behind you, you turn around and the blood rushes to your head.

It’s John.

“Oh…Mr. Price,” you stammer, and you feel a rush of embarrassment plastering your cheeks.

“Y’know ya can call me John, right? Good job raisin’ her pal, she got manners.” He chews on his toothpick as he takes the axe from your hands, and the contact leaves you feeling vulnerable and so flustered. His rough hands that he used to work, chop wood, and fix things felt oddly familiar on your soft skin.

“We taught her well, ain’t that right darlin’?” John looks over his shoulder, his flannel covering his bulging biceps and that itself makes you feel thirsty for cold water.

“Yes, Dad,” you replied softly, “Well, I’m just going to head on over back home to help Mom out. Want anything to drink John?”

John looked at you momentarily, the way his name slipped out of your sweet mouth left him speechless. His eyes gaze over your white dress that sits just above your knees, it feels like he is undressing you, but he’s just wondering how and when the hell you looked like this. Of course, you were always beautiful, but there was something special there.

A spark.

“No ma’am.” He waved his hand and went back to work. You watched as his forearms grew bigger when he swung that axe down.

Forgive me for my sins.

You mumbled before you opened the door to your home and walked in.

—

“My baby’s such a bad girl, aren’t ya? Takin’ me so well.” John praises as he thrusts into you in sinister motions like he’s been deprived of something so good for such a long time, that it almost drove him over the wall.

How you felt so good, so welcoming, as his thrusts became deeper and faster. Touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed—nor could feel. It was an out-of-body experience like your soul had ascended, and you didn’t know whether it was real.

Until your alarm woke you up. It wasn’t real, but gosh did it feel real. You’re sweating, and your heart is running a marathon, as you regain your breath, you feel like you committed a crime. A crime so punishable that it could result in a death sentence.

You grab your rosary and you rock back and forth, praying and asking for forgiveness for ever dreaming about him. Your parents always told you that you wouldn’t have a good spot in the afterlife—a place called hell—if you thought of or committed any acts of sin. Especially anything and everything related to dirty inappropriate thoughts or worse, sex. Commit any of these before marriage, and you have a spot ready for you down below.

You feared for your life, even though it was impossible for anyone you love to know. They won’t ever know you have thoughts about John, or how you feel warmth between your legs when you picture him touching you in places you can’t please. Or how you picture him shirtless chopping wood, grabbing your waist from behind as he helps you hold the axe properly and swing it down. It was oh so shameful of you. Dirty, bad, sinful.

But you feel as if enough was enough, you’ve been good for far too long, that you deserve to feel good about yourself for once.

It was the perfect time, six thirty in the morning and both your parents were sleeping away, not knowing their good and obedient daughter was yearning to touch herself.

You lock your doors for safety as you scurried back to bed, you lay down on your back as you skim your fingers down your chest.

Deep breathes in and deep breathes out. You don’t know how to do this, but you’ll give in anyway. You sigh as you pull your shorts down, with your underwear as well. You drew circles around your belly before trailing down to your heat. Soft gasps escaped your mouth at your sensitive touch. Sensitive and swollen from the dream you just had.

You close your eyes, rubbing circular motions on your most sensitive area as you picture John doing this for you instead. Rough and hard-working hands aiding you. A coil in your stomach tightens, urging you to untie right then and there, but you can’t get the motions to stay the same.

You winced as you pushed your finger deeper, your back arching in response. You don’t feel anything, no pleasure, only pain and emptiness.

You want to scream in the agonizing torture of being so close yet so far away. You pull your shorts back up as you go inside the restroom to wash your hands.

You committed acts of sin and weren't pleased, and now you feel nothing but guilt and insecurity of not knowing how to do something right.

—

The next day, the same place you were before. Outside on your dad's truck watching his friends help out with work. John wore a tight brown tee that accentuated his muscles, he's a retired man, but you could see every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears in that body of his.

You blush, thinking about it. About what could be hiding under his shirt.

He catches you eyeing him but you quickly divert your eyes back to your book. John smirked, telling your dad he'll be back in a second and wants to talk with you.

"Ya watchin' me, sweetheart?" He smiled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. You watched as he did so, fearing that he'd ask you to take a puff, though you never would. "I...I was just trying to learn how you chop your wood, sir."

A deep chuckle escapes his mouth, "Y'know I can teach you, doll," the new nickname had you unable to face him, but he loved seeing you flustered. He took a puff and you nodded, "Come on over to my place, your dad won't mind. I'm not at home much, anyway. S'good to learn y'know," he went on as he walked closer to you, his southern accent becomes deeper as he goes, "You'll have the privacy that you need, to read your books and pray." He knew how religious you are, heck, he's a good friend to your parents.

"I don't know if my father will let me go, with a man nonetheless." John looks back and then back to you, "It's only me, angel."

You decide to ask your father, just in case. You don't want to go behind his back, even if John is family. You walk on over, building the courage to ask your father if it's okay to go over to a man's house, a man you yearn for.

"Dad, is it okay If John takes me to his house? He's gonna teach me how to chop wood." Your dad looks at you momentarily, before speaking, "Of course honey, just because I want you to help an old man out here and there. 'Aka' me." You tried to keep your cool, to not look so eager about going over a man's house.

John smiled, the thought of having you all to himself at his place gets him straining against his jeans. He loves it when you eye him as if he doesn't know or sense when you drool over him.

"Here's your room, sweet thing, if ya ever need anything I'm just a shout away." He sets his tools down and walks to the kitchen, his jeans shaping his toned legs and shirt sizes too small. Butterflies invade your stomach, merely at the thought that you'd be sleeping under the same roof as this man, and willing to teach you something you're so interested in.

"Can't believe your dress is that short, doll. Your mother let you out like that?" He eyed your white dress that sits just above your knees and shows more skin than the dresses you usually wear. "You know, Mr. Price, I'm an adult now."

"Course you are," he takes a sip of his beer, "but I ain't take you as the one to dress like this. Can't say I don't like it."

You smile, flustered at the way he just complimented you. You can't deny that you like it, you love it. It sent a rush of arousal through your entire body, and he noticed the way you crossed your legs.

"Damnit,"

"What is it?" You asked curiously, not knowing that John saw the way you squeezed your thighs together. He wants to ease the need and desire that coursed through you, but he doesn't want to screw it all up.

"Nothin', now come on outside."

"Now, you're going to hold it just like this," he instructs, pushing his hard body against your back as he holds your arms. You could feel the hardness of his strain on your back and you scream internally, unable to form coherent thoughts.

You made this so hard for him, so difficult to the point where John himself forgot what he wanted to teach you.

"Easy," his calloused hands left your arms and snaked their way along your waist. Your stomach flipped at the action. Goosebumps flare over your entire skin, his manly scent entering your nose and taking over your mind. You swallowed, and continued.

"Now raise your axe, and swing it down."

You did just so, and you successfully chopped the wood.

"That's it, angel baby, look at ya. Such a good learner."

"I am, aren't I?" You slightly bit your lip, John cursed himself and cupped your face. "Mm, damn right you are." John wondered deeply if you were such a good learner in other parts as well. Price cupping your face was a first, but his calloused hands that signal just how much of a hard worker made the intense throb between your legs grow.

You wake up with your blanket suffocating as you struggle to fall asleep, again. You tossed and turned, repeating everything and every touch he gave you. You try to stop the need and the burn in your belly, you really do, but it's hard when you don't know how to fulfill your need. It became so bad to the point where you stood up and walked to the kitchen for water.

He wasn't in his room, he was out for the morning. A busy man and you're so silly for thinking he'd be home, even when he informed you he wouldn't be home every passing hour.

But oh how much you needed him. In ways, you couldn't forgive yourself for it.

You sit down, as quiet as a mouse, waiting patiently for him to come back just so you can confess your dirty sins. Maybe he'll forgive you for them, or maybe he won't show you mercy.

You try to occupy yourself, laying down on the couch and turning on the TV, still in your nightgown. You pull the blanket over, ready to watch a cooking video to learn a few things.

But it hits you that you're actually able to do something about the heat in between your legs, now that nobody is here. The house was quiet except for the TV playing.

Your hand trails under the blanket, lifting your nightgown as you reach for your soaked underwear. Shameful how you're soaked even when he's not around, John really leaves his mark on you. You let out a sigh as you reached your wet and sensitive clit.

It's not easy when you struggle to please yourself, it's so disappointing, honestly. Today was no different.

There is this creeping guilt, but it always hits you the most just when you creep up the tip of the mountain, only for you to fall off when you realize what you're doing.

You can't stop thinking of him, shoulders aching and tears urging to escape when you're so close to reaching the end, only for it to be unsuccessful.

So, you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Spreading your legs further as your fingers plunged into your aching hole, you gasped. Picturing yet again, how he pleases his women. Of course, he knew how, he is well experienced and capable of pleasing a woman, to the point where she forgets her own name.

You're committing acts of sins in his own home, unforgivable and dirty. Because you were raised with the idea of being perfect, but no one is perfect. From the moment you're born and the moment you die--but the moment you die is the moment John Price fulfills your dirty little dreams.

He whispers in your ear telling you how to do this and how to do that.

'Just like that.'

'Those fingers are too light, darlin', lemme do all the work."

"Attagirl, in and out."

And you almost reached the top of the mountain, whispering finally as sweat buds trail down your forehead.

Finally, finally, finally.

Until you fell down the mountain you tried so hard climbing, when John swings open the door to the sight of his best friend's daughter getting off on his couch. You hurriedly pull your panties back up.

At that moment, you wanted to scream.

To run away.

To die.

He's going to tell your dad, and your entire body freezes. You can't plead for forgiveness when you're so far gone. No mercy will be shown when he kicks you out and tells your parents how bad their daughter truly is.

You sit straight as your body shakes in fear, you're unable to cry when you know your fate.

A sinful girl.

"John," you choke, "I-I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I really wasn't-"

"How long have you been at this?" Your heart drops all the way down as the blood from your face drains. "O..only," you struggle to speak as his deep brown eyes gaze at you, "It was only this one time."

You lied.

Another sin.

He stands in silence, shutting the door behind him as he takes big steps towards you. He hovers over you, looking down to see a dirty girl in front of him. As if you played this innocent and sweet girl, though you were, except in John's eyes you weren't. At least that's what you thought.

He takes your chin and pushes your head up to face him, you weren't able to look in his eyes, it was all too much.

"Look at me," he grumbled, you did just what he said. Not once resisting, although it was difficult.

"I ain't mad at ya, it's natural, honey."

Your eyes widened and your shoulders relaxed from the tension and fear.

"You're not going to tell on me?" You asked, Price chuckles.

"Course I'm not, I ain't no snitch, I'm a grown man." He bends on his knees, his thumbs rubbing circular motions on your exposed skin.

"Did it feel good? Sorry to have ruined it for ya' angel." It sure did feel good knowing you almost reached the top, it really did, but it felt better having John assuring you that it was all okay. "You don't have to be sorry--I was just..."

"Go on."

"Continue what I interrupted, don't let my presence stop ya," he signaled his pointer finger toward the door to his room, "it ain't comfortable here. No space to spread those sweet legs, is there?"

You shake your head, "Go on, unless you want me in there. I know deep down you do, doll, you can feel so much better." He's right, the moment you've been dreaming of, it finally comes true. How could you say no to John being in the same room making you feel good?

You almost can't believe it.

He suddenly picks you up from the couch, initiating a soft gasp from you when he opens the door and throws you on his mattress.

You balance yourself with your two hands when he undresses himself in front of you. Starting off with his shirt. You gasp once again, at the sight of his sculpted body before you. His chest was full of hair and his toned dad bod was the definition of perfect.

He gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you, his head now in between your thighs. "I interrupted your time of need, sweet girl, let me make it up to you." He smiles before hooking his finger on the hem of your underwear, pulling them down all the way to your ankles. On display right before him, so shy you hid away, unable to look at the lewd sight in front of you. "That ain't gonna work for me, eyes over here." His fingers dug into your thighs, you did just as he said, looking at his eyes that continue to look at your pretty pussy.

"S'fuckin' wet."

It's a dream come true for John as well, to see you all wide open and soaking wet for him.

He places peppered kisses along your thighs, and you whimper as he stops. John makes his way up to your lips, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeply and hungrily. Exactly like the dreams.

His stache brushing against your top lip only made it feel real, his tongue deep inside your mouth as your hands held the back of his head, pushing his mouth impossibly deeper. He's eating your face as if it were his last meal on death row. Like a predator catching his prey.

He pulls away from the intense kiss, the saliva leaving both of you.

Good God did he know how to kiss, you let him do all the work when you could barely kiss him back just as good.

His chest heaved, and he continued with his kisses on your neck and down your collarbone, pushing a soft moan out of you that drove John over the wall. "Make more noises, it's only the two of us, jus' let me hear ya." He cooed, his hands lifting your nightgown over your hips and then over your head. His eyes trailed over your breasts hidden in your bra. "Ah fuck," you sit up, allowing John to unclip your bra, the sight of your chest out on display for him made his mouth water. He grips your left breast with one hand while he sucks and kisses the other.

"Oh, John...keep doing that, please."

He kneads your breast, almost putting you to sleep with how good it feels, "mmmhm," you sighed, "you been wantin' this, and I'm sorry for waiting this long." He apologizes as he places kisses down your belly and finally makes his way back to being in between your thighs.

"No need...to be sorry," you breathe, tilting your head back when he swipes his tongue between your wet folds. The new feeling alone made your legs tremble, enticing a loud gasp from you. You start to rock your hips against his mouth as his deep groans vibrate through your entire nervous system. "Taste like fuckin' Heaven, oh sweet baby, I think you are heaven itself." Praise that had you dropping your jaw as he inserted his hot tongue in your hole.

You swore you saw Heaven.

Brows furrowed and back arched as he eats you like a hungry man, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, and your legs spread further open inviting him in for more.

John inserts one finger in as his tongue continues to suck on your most sensitive area, and you let out the loudest moan you didn't think you were capable of ever making.

You died in this moment. And John swore he died in that moment, also.

"John," you pant, focusing on what could be your first-ever orgasm.

"I know, you're close baby, s'fuckin' tight, come for me." His words of encouragement suddenly break the coil inside your burning belly, the liquid seeping out of you as he continues to lick away every last bit from you.

He takes his finger and licks you away, which leaves you half-lidded.

"See? How hard was that? Like rippin' a damn bandaid off, does your wound feel better?" He teased, "It does," you say softly, still reminiscing what happened a few seconds ago. What you just felt, how it felt like fireworks exploding inside your veins.

"Such a perfect pussy, waiting to be full of me." He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, you've never had sex, but you definitely never needed something more than now. You need him, to get to know him, even when you already do.

"Does it hurt like they say?" You asked nervously, watching as his jeans disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers. His thick thighs didn't do much justice in the dim light.

"When I do it, then it shouldn't be as bad, doll. Jus' a little pain, but if ya feel like it's too much, you jus' tell me. Hm?"

It makes you feel special with how sweet he treats you, he treats you with such care that it truly makes you dizzy.

He takes off his boxers and you almost lose all consciousness, his cock leaking with pre-cum and hard, you thought it was quite inhumane how big he is.

Sure you've explored your curiosity, but John, he differed from all of them.

"Poor thing needs some love and I'm going to show your pussy what the definition of love is." You grew heavy with desire, "ya need me to use a condom, sweetheart?" he asked, you nodded, simply because you weren't on the pill.

He opens his drawer and pulls out a condom, ripping it off with his teeth and spitting a piece of the wrapper out.

That was a sight for sore eyes.

He slips it on his thick cock, the condom intensifying every vien, it left your mouth dry like a Sahara desert.

How was that going to fit? Was all you were thinking about, but you were so sure he was going to make it feel okay.

He sets his heavy cock on your soaking entrance, teasing you while he moves his dick up and down your folds, you whine with need and John chuckles.

Was this the sinful thing that would literally damn you for eternity? How could something so dirty feel so good?

He brings a hand of his to pin your arms down, while the other holds your leg close to him. Your brows furrow as he slowly enters himself into you. John grows concerned when he sees your lips pursed and your eyes shut tightly, a tear escaping.

He stops, and you stop holding your breath.

"It hurts don't it? Want me to stop?"

"Please, no," you gasp, "I...I want you to keep going."

He readjusts your hips, before proceeding to continue, "You sure, honey?" You nod and whisper a hundred times yes before he thrusts deep inside of you.

"So fuckin' good for me, fuck!" he shouts, he loved the way your cunt fluttered and wrapped tightly around his cock.

The silence in the room was filled with his groans and loud moans from you, so lewd and so dirty. But you're too far deep to leave now, you're ready to die, happily.

"My," he thrusts, then pulling away and thrusting back in deeper, "gorgeous," you gasp when he continues his rhythm of thrusting and being so close to pulling out before he thrusts impossibly deeper again, "Girl." He breathed.

He brings his fingers to circle your sensitive clit, and you feel it happening again. It's more intense and heavier.

Your walls wrapped tightly on his cock, initiating that you're indeed closer than you have ever been before. "Mhmm," he moaned, and it was such a sweet sound you so badly wanted to hear again. He grabs hold of your legs, bringing them closer to your head, thrusting at a deeper angle that you can feel in your throat.

"That's it, baby, that's my fuckin' girl right here. All mine, gimme one more." He stopped as you cried out his name over and over until it became engraved in John's brain. He silences your cries with his lips as your legs shake around him.

"You did so well for me, your pussy jus' needed some medicine to be cured, got you coming all over my cock." He begins to move again, to finish himself this time. Your pain turns into pleasure and familiarity when he pushes himself in and out.

"John, that feels so..." He groans loudly at the way you watch his cock slide in and out, it was obscene but also surreal, "look at you, fuck, gonna make me cum just lookin' at me like that."

Which you felt so good about, it's all you wanted.

He pants as he reached a certain point, chest heaving as you can feel his cock twitching inside of you.

John pulls out, and there's sadness in your heart at the emptiness. Your heart thuds loudly that your first time to be with a man you dreamed about, it feels euphoric. You felt ecstatic.

He wipes away your dry tears and your hair away from your face, that drowned in sweat and tears.

John admired you the second he laid his eyes on you till now, he never knew the definition of perfect until this moment.

"Can you teach me how to feel good?" You asked as your hand roamed his broad shoulders and his back. And fuck, did John love that.

"Course' baby, on top of the choppin' the damn wood lessons," you both laugh, "I got all the time in the world, for you."

Your heart ached, he whispered sweet nothings before he carried you into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

Then you nestled under his arms and his body heat, his chest, and arms hugging you as the two of you slept the day away.

It was worth every waking second, and now you can sleep peacefully.

A/N: Y'all, wtf. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Need him.

This lowkey needs to be edited some more now that I’m reading it, but I’ll definitely do that later…

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msfcatlover · 1 year

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Y’know, I get why comics almost exclusively portray fear toxin as hallucinations—it’s a visual medium, of course they’re going to lean in to any chance for fun visuals—but in fanfiction I’d like to see a little more variety.

Hallucinations don’t have to be visible. Give me trusted voices whispering horrible secrets, give me the smell of death lingering just out of sight, give me the creeping tickle of insect feet tip-tapping across skin beneath someone’s clothes or phantom hands giving the impression of an enemy that can’t be seen or heard.

Give me delusions without hallucinations. An idea the mind treats as a fact of reality, which can’t be logicked away any more than one can logic away the color of the sky. Reality, logic, and emotions all bend under the weight of it, filtered through that untrue conviction. I’ve been poisoned. My family is in danger. I have to escape. They’re all out to get me.

Untapped potential. (Read Scorpian-grass if you need a demonstration, specifically of the delusion side of this.)

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kaveehs · 6 months

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Sweetener — Gojo Satoru

fem!reader, wc 0.8k, fluff, established relationship, workaholic!gojo, first years make a cameo <3

synopsis: gojo had always liked sweet things, you were no exception

a/n: i’ve been so busy lately but i finally finished this piece!!! recently i’ve been missing gojo so much so i had so much fun with this <333

requested by: @the-weeping-author

Gojo Satoru undoubtedly had a sweet tooth.

Sure, he had a variety of pastries and candies at his disposal that he could use to curb his insatiable need for sweetness in his life, but they all paled in comparison to you. From the moment Satoru first met you, he could tell something was fairly different about you.

At a first glance, he could tell you were a bit apprehensive of him. This was nothing new, after all he carried such an intimidating title attached to him since he was young. Despite it all, you always greeted him with a smile and such warm words. There was no doubt that you were a kind girl at heart, but there was so much more to it than that to him. Your compassionate nature didn’t come with a catch, nor did it waiver the closer you and him became, it only strengthened his feelings towards you.

You always thought he had been exaggerating when he had expressed how just you alone could calm his overwhelming sweet tooth when your relationship with him first began, but he truly meant every word of it, no matter how dramatic it sounded.

“Honey!” Satoru called out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Of course it was only natural for him to call you something so sweet you couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon, let alone spare time to visit me at work, how was it?” Before coming to his office, you had been scoping out a new bakery he had been dying to go to, but couldn’t due to being constantly cooped up at work.

“Great, I brought back some things I thought you might like,” you answered, handing him the small box of pastries you’d saved for him. He pulled back half of his blindfold, happily accepting the box into his hands which had been much larger than the pastry box. Just as he flipped open the lid, he noticed a shift in your expression.

“What’s with the sad face, sweetheart? You wanna try some too? You know I don’t mind sharin’,” he teased. His comment caught you somewhat by surprise— you didn’t even notice the change in your face.

“No, it’s not that,” you slightly bit the lower corner of your lip. “I just wish we could’ve gone together. You’ve been workin’ so much, y’know?”

Satoru paused for a moment, placing the treats on his desk as he got up from the comfort of his office chair. “I know baby,” he uttered sympathetically as his arms engulfed your body. “‘M sorry,” he said as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “When I have free time, I promise I’ll take you on the best trip ‘n you’ll have my full attention.”

“You mean it,” your eyes glistened with excitement at his words. A full trip where you could simply enjoy each other’s company, the thought alone was lovely.

“Y’know I don’t like to make promises I can’t honor,” a grin found its way to his face. “Of course I mean it.”

As you subconsciously squeezed him tighter, pulling him closer for a soft kiss, you heard the sound of snickers just as your lips were about to connect… his first year students. You pulled away from him, despite the small pout on his face.

“Before we get to that, I gotta assign my students here, more work. Clearly they seem to have a bunch of time to kill,” he spoke in a sarcastic yet matter-of-fact manner, laughing at their pleads for mercy. “Utahime’s been houndin’ me about your academic performance anyway. Perfect timing if you ask me.”

“Come on ‘Toru, go easy on them,” you remarked while trying to contain your own laughter.

“…Maybe I’ll let the assignments slide for today.”

“And just like that, he folds,” Itadori blinked, in awe at how quick he was to change his decision because of your interjection.

“It’s almost impressive how much control she has over someone like Gojo,” Nobara chimed in. Megumi shook his head.

“It’s nothing like that,” he sighed as if he knew all too well the truth of his mentor’s nature. “He’s just soft. Always has been.”

“Now now,” Gojo cleared his throat, it was telling he had been a bit embarrassed by the back and forth banter of his students. “Maybe I should switch things up a little bit— and teach you all a small life lesson.” This promise of a new lesson seemed to pique the interests of Nobara and Itadori. “When you find the love of your life—” he began as he looked over to you, however his speech was cut off by the simultaneous groans of his students.

“How informative,” you joked, followed by such a genuine laugh that spread to him so easily. Though you did learn something new with his eight words— that he saw you as the love of his life.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be Gojo Satoru’s sweetener afterall.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo #[ ʚ♡ɞ ] — rena writes — fluff

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signedkoko · 6 months

Note

Hello! This is short of a headcanon-request? I imagine Mammon to treat his partner like a pet at times. As in, instructing them on what to do, choosing their clothes to make sure they look cute, praising them when they do what he asks them and such. I was wondering if you could write something like that? I get it if it's not something you are comfortable writing, so please don't feel pressured to take my request! Thank you for reading! <3

Mammon X Reader [Romantic]

In which Mammon does everything for you, and you don't mind it at all.

Ohh, yes, he loves control over everything around him, he wants everything on a string that he can pull

Even his partner

He adores you, he wants you safe and happy and protected

And you are all those things so long as he is taking good care of you, his cute little bunny

Totally a bunny kind of guy

He's always casually telling you to follow him, sit on his lap, lay in bed, play a game you like, tell him about your day, tell him a story from before he knew you

Tell him everything, he wants to know everything he missed in his little rabbits life

Expect nicknames like hops, bunny, rabbit, bun, carrots, and bugsie

He loves bugsie a lot, y’know, because of rabbits and their big ass eyes

He does more than pick your outfit, oh yeah, he will dress you himself, all sets of hands on deck

You have your own walk in closet with a variety of outfits, most of which are baby blue or white, to match your nickname

He will lift you up onto a dresser and help you get tights on, tie your shoes, slip a shirt over your head and help you get a cozy cardigan on over it

It's a lot at once with all his hands, some doing multiple things at once that eventually you can just let your limbs go limp and he'll do it all for you

But you're also so precious to him that he rarely lets you be in the public eye

People get glimpses of you, rarely, the ones he lets slip just so everyone has something to gossip about

But you are his sweet little thing, and you don't need others to take care of you, he'll do and be everything you possibly need

Author's Note - For the record, I don't think anyone knows this but I write full on hardcore NSFW by request- it'd take a lot more than this to get me weirded out. Also I am super into doll/pet sorta dynamics so I rock with this! I hope this is what you were hoping for, thank you!

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #mammon #mammon x reader

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silly4seojun · 4 months

Text

one kiss is all it takes

content tags: han seo-jun x reader, female reader, characters are aged up to mid 20s, drinking, lightweight best friend that plays matchmaker, tipsy reader, flirting, kissing at midnight, all lowercase intended

author’s note: sorry it’s very late & all over the place heh btw f/n = friend name

———

the new year’s eve party was in full swing by the time you’re ushered past the threshold and into the overcrowded venue; you note how everyone was dressed up to the nines for the occasion, with the men in tuxedos and the women in a variety of gowns and cocktail dresses.

in a bout of anxiousness, you adjust the material of your plunging neckline in an effort to cover your dignity— i should’ve gone with the safe option— but f/n turns to you with a knowing look etched on her face, “relax, tonight’s all about having fun.”

the expression that forms on your face is enough to make her bark out a laugh, “you need a drink.” she didn’t even need to attempt a trip to the booming bar with a waiter walking past with a tray full of flutes of, what you figured to be, champagne— your favourite.

f/n takes two easily, smiling a sweet smile at the not-so-bad-looking waiter before turning back to you, handing you a flute.

“to a good night and an even better 2024!” you toast, clinking glasses and then swallowing back a significant amount of the bubbly alcohol before giving a sound of pleasant surprise and bringing the glass down from your lips.

“remind me again, how did you get us on the guest list?” you couldn’t help feeling like you were out of place, but the sweet taste of alcohol on your tongue soothes your discomfort.

f/n shrugs halfheartedly, “oh y’know, a favor from a friend that owes me.”

you hum in acknowledgment as you scan the sea of people only for your gaze to settle on a man that steals the attention of the room. your eyes couldn’t help the way they followed the man in complete awe as he moved around the room. the low lighting catches the pretty glittering of the embellished pinstripes that ran down the length of his black tuxedo, it makes you think— how can someone be so good looking?

your attention is pulled away from the alluring man to find f/n grinning, in the i know exactly what you were just doing kind of way. “i did say tonight’s all about having fun,” she laughs loudly when you smack her arm, “shut up!” although that doesn’t seem to stop her teasing.

“maybe he can be your new year’s kiss?” she wiggles her eyebrows, swiftly evading your expected smack and swapping your two empty glasses for two full flutes of champagne.

at the mention of the impeding new year, you check the time on the live countdown broadcast situated on the wall beside the bar— 11:13 p.m., forty seven minutes and twelve seconds remaining of 2023. playfully rolling your eyes, you turn away from the man in question, dismissing her taunts with a simple, “as if.”

the dance music gets louder the further you move into the venue, you sip on your new flute of bubbly as you eye the decor that littered the room. the decorations were in traditional nye colours, black and gold; matching the over-the-top dress code.

you’re interrupted by a loud, “i love this song! let’s dance.” f/n skulls the rest of her champagne before you get the chance to remind her she’s a lightweight, “please, y/n!” she adopts her adaptation of puppy dog eyes, pouting when you respond with a quick, and embarrassed, “no way!”

“come on, get in the spirit! dance with me.” f/n doesn’t wait for your answer this time, clumsily grabbing ahold of your hand and pulling you in the direction of the dance floor. you easily down the remaining alcohol and send an apologetic smile to the waiter who you hand the empty glass to.

“i’m definitely not drunk enough for this.” you cringe when you’re finally in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other, drunk, party goers. although, that doesn’t seem to prevent f/n from dancing to a familiar beat.

you start to dance along with the song, deciding to let loose a little, it’s new year’s eve! somehow in the midst of the chaos, you find yourself enjoying the moment. f/n has a wild grin on her face— one that you can credit the alcohol for— as she dances in a way you can only laugh at, it’s how she normally dances and it’s silly, but you love it.

after a dance battle and encore, you’re short of breath and in need of a drink. in her warped vision, f/n looks back to find you gladly grabbing your third glass of bubbly from another passing waitress, settling at one of the nearby cocktail bar tables. the air was full of the stench of alcohol and hum of 2023’s greatest hit songs, it was practically impossible to ignore, though the sweetness of champagne allows you a moment of bliss as it coats your throat.

you struggle to restrain the corner of your lips from quirking up when f/n staggers over to the table, she clutches the edge to keep her balance.

“oh, look!” a hiccup interrupts her, but she shamelessly points to something behind you. “it’s that guy you were totally checking out earlier.” as if on cue, the champagne you were just sipping on suddenly goes down the wrong pipe, causing you to sputter into a napkin.

you look at her incredulously but she seems to ignore the expression. “why don’t you go over there and introduce yourself?” it doesn’t sound too bad, in theory, until she adds, “it’s almost midnight and you need a new year’s kiss, stat!”

f/n ungracefully stumbles into your side, clutching onto your arm, “i don’t think so.” you attempt to pry your arm out of her grasp but she only clings onto you tighter as she moves towards the stranger.

nerves start to bubble in your chest as you get closer and closer and closer. “oh! i need to go to the bathroo—,” you try your luck with a lame excuse, and for a split second relief floods your system as f/n comes to a stop in her pursuit, but it just as quickly disappears as she shoves you forward, “go get ‘em, tiger!”

“shit, i’m so sorry!” your apology rolls of your tongue— this can’t be happening— when you’re knocked right into him, spilling his drink all over his hand. “my friend is annoyingly… enthusiastic.”

“thank her for me.” his lips stretch into a boyish smile, a tinge of amusement playing on his features as he takes in your frazzled state.

“let me help you clean this up,” you go to find a nearby waiter when he reassures you he can do it himself, setting down the now empty glass and taking out a napkin with one hand and wiping away the stray liquid from the other.

“there. now, as i was sayin’…” he grins a cute smile, you could almost mistake it as being… flirty. “i’ve been wantin’ to talk to you all night.”

you flush at his frankness, “is that so?” you feel hot under his gaze, concluding the champagne that you had been drinking all evening had finally hit you. you giggle to yourself, “well, lucky me then.”

“can i get your name, pretty?” his cheeks seem to mirror yours— pink and warm.

the buzz makes you bolder than usual, allowing you to bite your lip when you smoothly respond with, “only if i get yours, handsome.”

at that, he laughs and it makes your heart jump in your chest. there’s a little smile playing at your lips, when he finally folds, impressed with your flirting.

“seo-jun.” he extends a hand, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“well, hi seo-jun,” you test his name on your tongue, “i’m y/n.” you take his much larger hand in, what you thought was a handshake, but he surprises you with a quick kiss to the top of your knuckles.

the action pulls a shy laugh from you, “that was pretty smooth.”

seo-jun is just as sheepish when he pulls away, “well, y/n, i’ve got a lot more from where that came from.” despite his bashfulness, that doesn’t stop him from closing his left eye to form a wink.

he’s closer now, so close you can smell his cologne and notice the pretty way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and your heart thumps against your rib cage because of it.

f/n and what she said earlier comes to the forefront of your mind, and it seems more like a possibility now but it doesn’t stop the flush from spreading across your cheeks; she was right. ignoring the way your breath catches in your throat when seo-jun watches you, you force the words out of you before you can chicken out. “i don’t normally do this but, uh, did you wanna be my new year’s kiss?”

it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you feel the bud of hope in your chest blooming, and seo-jun doesn’t let you down. “i can’t think of a better way to start the new year off.”

the chanting of the guests is what pulls you back to reality and you don’t believe what’s in motion, it’s too good to be true. you try to look to the crowd to confirm for yourself what’s really happening but seo-jun catches you, his hand cupping your jaw as he guides your gaze back to him. “focus on me, pretty.”

he makes the way he draws you closer to his chest seem so natural and it’s dizzying how handsome he is upon closer inspection. all you can do is dumbly nod as your eyes look up into his, drinking in his appearance. the curves of his lips look so soft and supple at this angle, too tempting not to want to kiss.

four! three!

he bends his neck to minimise the distance between you, now millimetres only separating you. at this reach your lips brush against his a few times, his breath fanning across your face as you patiently wait; waiting for the countdown to, at long last, reach its completion.

two!

you don't take notice of the final cheer as seo-jun finally slots his lips against yours. your hands instinctively move to hold the nape of his neck as your lips become familiar with his. you melt into his warmth, his lips buttery soft and sweet. the way he presses himself further into you, it’s sweet and gentle, it makes your stomach twist into a knot.

when you pull away, starstruck and breathless, seo-jun cheekily grins. “we should definitely do this again.” you can’t help but agree with him; the suggestion doesn’t sound so bad after all.

#han seojun #han seojun x reader #han seojun scenarios #true beauty #true beauty x reader #true beauty scenarios #fluff #winnie writes

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sophie-hatter-jenkins · 6 months

Text

Boyfriend

Written for @hinnymicrofic November 2023 - Prompt 1

So this didn't go in quite the direction I thought it would, and ended up being a bit less micro than I expected. Hopefully the Hinny isn't too tangential!

It was late by the time Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor dormitory. This had nothing at all to do with his desire to avoid both Ron and Dean, and everything to do with spending as much time with Ginny as physically possible - but he couldn’t deny it was a very happy side effect.

He took a moment to make sure his shirt was properly buttoned again, and tried to flatten his hair in a futile attempt to make it look like he hadn’t spent the past however-many-hours with Ginny in a variety of locations around the school grounds resolutely not discussing the Ravenclaw match.

In the distance, he heard a door open, followed by a chorus of high-pitched squeals that cut off sharply as the door closed again. Clearly Ginny had reached her own dormitory. A soppy grin spread over his face as he thought of her again, no longer needing to imagine the taste of her lips, or the feel of her body pressed close to his. Unfortunately, this thought ensured that he needed to take a few more moments to compose himself before heading into his own dormitory.

When he finally pushed open the door, it was to discover that there was both good news and bad news. The good news was that Neville was already fast asleep, and (even better) neither Dean nor Seamus was there. Quite where they were given it was now well past curfew was a problem for someone else - Harry was perfectly happy to take the win.

The bad news was that Ron was very definitely there, and even more definitely awake. He was lying on his bed, fully clothed, hands behind his head, trying (Harry thought) very hard to look nonchalant.

Ron acknowledged his arrival with a nod. “Evening.”

“Evening,” replied Harry. He paused momentarily, then tried just as hard to look nonchalant as he strolled over to his own bed, and opened his truck to put his cloak back inside. Maybe, he hoped against hope, Ron wasn’t going to say anything else.

“So,” said Ron.

Fuck, thought Harry.

“You and Ginny.”

“Uh huh. Me and Ginny,” replied Harry, hoping that his tone was as light and non-committal as he intended.

“You’re her boyfriend now, then?” asked Ron.

Ron sounded conversational. Unconcerned. Calm. Harry was not fooled, not for one second. He shrugged awkwardly. He closed his trunk, then took as long as humanly possible to locate his pyjamas under his pillow. “Umm. Yeah. I guess so.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know so?” he asked, sharply.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Uh - no, I am,” he scrambled. “I definitely am.”

Ron cocked his head to one side. “Huh.”

Silence. Merciful silence. So why, Harry thought, was he suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to fill it? He fought it as hard as he could but ultimately, failed dismally.

“I mean, I asked her, officially, if that was what she wanted. And she said yes. So… Yeah, I’m her boyfriend. And… I really like her. I have done for ages. I… I’m not just messing about.”

More silence. Ron nodded thoughtfully.

“So are we… y’know, are we still good?” asked Harry, hopefully.

Ron gave him a hard stare. “Well that depends, doesn’t it?”

Harry swallowed hard. “It does?”

Ron’s brows wrinkled. “Yeah. Obviously.”

“Umm… what on?”

Ron looked at him as if he was exceptionally dim. “Harry, come on! She’s my sister! There are rules!”

Harry felt his heart sinking. This was the exact thing that he’d been afraid of, that had held him back for so long. And just when everything seemed to be falling into place. “There are?”

“Yeah. Rules,” confirmed Ron.

Harry couldn’t help himself. It was like he could see the headlights of the approaching lorry, and he just couldn’t seem to get out of the way. “And the rules would be….?”

Ron sighed. “Okay, if you’re going to make me spell it out for you.” He held up his hand, fingers splayed, ready to count them off. “Firstly, you don’t hurt her. Ever. In any way.”

Well that one was straightforward enough. “Got it.”

“Secondly,” counted Ron, “whatever it was that I saw in the common room before, I don’t want to see that ever again.”

Well, that one might be a touch trickier, but he was sure they could be discreet. “Er… Okay?”

“Thirdly,” continued Ron, pointing at his middle finger, “you have to escort her to and from all her classes, carry her bag and her books, serve her at mealtimes, give her your coat if she’s cold, do any shopping she needs. You know, just generally look after her properly.”

Harry frowned. That sounded a bit full on, but even then, it wasn’t so much that he wouldn’t do it, more that he couldn't imagine Ginny letting him. “Er, Ron?” he began.

But Ron wasn’t listening. “Fourthly, you can’t be alone with her at any time. You need a chaperone, permanently.”

Harry blinked, hard. How on earth did Ron think that could possibly ever work? “What? Ron, I don’t think…” he protested.

Ron just ignored him. “Fifthly, you don’t touch her. Ever. Anywhere. I’ll let you off with the common room thing because we hadn’t talked, but you can’t lay another hand on her. Or any other bit of you, for that matter.”

And at that point, Harry decided he’d had enough. “Oh come on, Ron! This is ridiculous! You can’t really expect…” he began, hotly.

But before he could continue, a horrible strangled noise came from Neville’s bed, making him jump. He jerked his head towards the sound, then realised that Neville was shaking violently under his blankets.

“Oh my god, Ron! I think he’s having a fit!” Harry dashed to Neville’s side, visions of Ron convulsing in Slughorn’s study flashing through his head. Where was he going to get a bezoar this time?

Harry pulled back Neville’s blanket and rolled his friend onto his back. Neville’s face was bright red and screwed up as though he was in pain. Except wait - no, that wasn’t pain, was it? It was… hang on, was it laughter?

Utterly confused, Harry turned to look at Ron, to find that he, too, was now laughing so hard he was practically doubled up with it.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” gasped Neville. “I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. That was brilliant! I don’t know how you kept a straight face.”

“Oh, Harry - your face! It was priceless!” said Ron, tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t worry, Neville. I was running out of fingers anyway.”

“You mean… all those rules? You were making them up?” Harry couldn’t decide whether he was furious or relieved.

“We were talking while you were out, about how far Ron thought he could push you,” confessed Neville.

“Well, you just snogged my sister in front of pretty much everyone,” agreed Ron. “I reckoned I deserved a bit of payback.”

“So you’re not pissed off with me?” Harry checked.

Ron shook his head. “Nah. If you’re nuts enough to actually willingly go out with Ginny, I reckon that’s punishment enough.” Then he looked thoughtful. “Though I really would appreciate you keeping the snogging to a minimum while I’m around.”

Finally, relief won out, and Harry’s face split into a grin of his own. “Deal.”

#hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry x ginny #hinny microfic

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zen-the-dumb · 7 months

Text

Iwaizumi heacannons cause he’s hot.

(Split into sections) (I apologize, this one is kinda all over the place and there is alot of variety for what i write on this one. Its some fluff, some angst, y’know.)

Bullied!reader

(Physical bullying)

Someone is getting their shit rocked-

No, but in all seriousness, he knows something is up after a while of seeing a few different signs. These signs being purely physical. He couldnt pick up on any of the mental signs. The signs he picked up on were bruises, you being late whenever you had to go through a certain area of the school to get to somewhere, and being anxious around a certain group of people.

Probably confronts you about it after a few times of seeing the same things over and over again.

During this confrontation, he gets worked up and mad. After you tell him who is bullying you and what’s happening, he takes action to prevent it.

If you’re okay with telling a counselor or teacher:

Iwaizumi will do the talking if you want him to, if not, he’ll just accompany you to be like emotional support.

If you are afraid to tell a counselor or teacher or believe it will bring you more harm:

In this situation, Iwaizumi will devise a plan to protect your from whomever it is hurting you.

This plan will be along the lines of accompanying you wherever and at whatever time it is that these people are bullying you.

If they try to bully you while he’s there, a fight will insue.

(Mental bullying)

**Tw!: mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts**

He took note of changes in your behavior most likely. However, if you showed no big signs of being bullied, I don’t think he’d be empathetic enough to tell. If you aren't more down than normal, it probably takes a bit.

Once he realises, he is pissed (reasonably so).

He asks you why you wouldn't tell him earlier. He was concerned that you were so scared to tell him for whatever reason.

***TW!: THIS IS THE SUICIDE MENTION PART!***

If you went to the extent of attempting suicide, he stays with you while you heal from the suicide attempt before asking you who pushed you that far. When you tell him, he probably is quite tempted to go beat their ass.

If you had suicidal thoughts but didn't attempt before he got to you, he definitely was still pissed that you had even had the thought of ending your life. He wasn't mad at you for having them, but mad at whoever had tortured you so much that you had contemplated suicide.

**Suicide mention part over**

To help avoid you being tormented, he subtly starts being with you more. And if they torment you when he’s not there, he comforts you after you tell him about it.

If they torment you infront of him, he will rip into them with the insults.

Reader that stims ig? (Sorry, not sure what else to call this)

One day he notices your stimming and asks about it.

After you tell him its a type of physical comfort mechinism, he’s kinda confused for a second and you have to explain why it’s needed for you. (Whether that be sensory overload, social anxiety, overwhelming enviroment, etc.)

Once you explain this to him, he starts taking note sub-consciously of what situations you stim during.

Eventually, he probably memorizes what stims you use for certain things if you have certain stims for different situations.

Defends you if you ever get made fun of for your stimming.

Reader that is afraid of thunder

At first, whenever he sees how anxious you get when the thunderstorm starts, he thinks its kinda silly or you’re joking.

However, whenever he sees you hiding under the blankets or crying or anything like that, he immediately is all comfort.

Probably will cuddle you for comfort you if thats what you want.

Gives you his headphones and turns on music for you or something to distract you or block out the noise of the thunder.

This section is for a Trans male reader. Dysphoria comfort.

Whenever you’re feeling dysphoric, he will give you compliments on your masculine features to distract you from the not masculine features.

If you don't have a binder on at the time, he’ll give you his jacket or one of his shirts to help with dysphoria.

If it’s dysphoria over your legs or hips, he will lend you a hoodie or baggy pair of pants to help.

Will buy you food. No more context.

If anyone dares to misgender you on purpose or dead name you, there will be hell for them to pay.

*_Requests are open, check my blog or profile description for more details_*

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elmhat · 2 months

Text

// dsmp rp

@sam-and-dream-week day 1 — "pandora"

“I was thinking Pandora's Vault,” said Sam, with no small amount of pride. “What do you think? Pretty neat, right?”

“Hm,” Dream hummed, noncommittal. He walked just a step behind Sam through the halls of his new prison, scanning for imperfections. So far, there were none. Sam was good at his job. “Sounds… important.”

“I know, right? I mean, y’know, it— it’s a pretty important place!” Sam held himself with a newfound confidence, Dream thought. It made him feel more confident in himself for this decision.

The prison was entering its final stages of construction; just the finishing touches to be added now. Dream couldn't get it over with fast enough. While they had admittedly worked quickly, the design had changed drastically since their initial blueprints, and he needed this place to be ready for action within the week.

Sam veered off to the side, into a room lined wall to wall with furnaces. “So this is the kitchen,” he said, pointing as he went. “It’s got all the important stuff. Uh, lots of meats, and all that. Things that can last for a while. No gapples, obviously, but— y’know, quite— quite a bit of variety.”

Dream hummed in acknowledgement, opening one of the chests. It was packed full of frozen steaks. Sam certainly did have a lot of food stored here—maybe even too much.

“And this is all for the prisoner?” Dream asked.

Sam nodded. “Well, I’d have some of it, but yeah.”

Slowly, Dream paced the floor, taking it all in. He needed to be as thorough with this room as he was with every other he had inspected so far. It had to be perfect. But Sam might be the only person who understood this as well as he did, even without understanding the prison’s purpose; in this, at least, they saw eye to eye.

The next chest he opened, Dream frowned. “These don't keep, though, do they? Potatoes?” He held up one of the offending objects in a netherite grip.

“Not exactly, yeah, but y’know, I— I have a farm in here. I thought it might be nice to have some fresh food sometimes.”

“That does seem nice.” Dream passed the potato between his hands, an unconscious habit. “What if we only used potatoes?”

Sam’s face was unreadable, but he paused for just a second too long. “You mean no other food?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Dream. “I'm just thinking, y’know, you already have a farm for them. Why waste time on anything else, right?”

“Yeah, I— I guess that makes sense.” Sam rubbed at his neck, slouching slightly. “That’s not much of a diet, though.”

“Eh.” Dream shrugged. “I mean, anyone who’s in here, they probably won't be here for long.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that's true.” Sam looked—nervous. He looked really nervous, actually, like something was eating him up inside. Dream needed his warden to not be nervous.

“Is that okay?” Dream asked him.

Sam nodded. “Oh, yeah, that’s— that’s fine. I mean, it’s your prison, right?” He chuckled quietly, which sputtered out into something empty and dead. “Um. Just… You said the prisoner. Like, just one. Did you, uh, have someone in mind?”

Without really meaning to, Dream broke eye contact, that cold dread clawing its way back up before he swallowed it down again. “No one yet,” he said. As he breathed out, he crossed the distance between them, placing a hand on Sam’s plated shoulder. “But— this isn't my prison, Sam. It's ours. And I trust you to be a great warden.”

Sam smiled at him then, a real smile, and it was warmer than all the prison’s lava. “I'll do my best.”

[ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 ]

#dreblr #c!dream #c!sam #drabbles #elm fics #my writing

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isapirata · 4 months

Note

Hellooo! I love your writing so much! And I was wondering if I could request a Sanji x reader fic where she feels dumb for being upset that she never has a valentine every year Valentine’s Day comes around so Sanji decides to surprise her and make up for all the years she didn’t have anyone

sfw wc: 621

You didn’t like the color red. It was too bright, made you angry, and sore to the eyes. However, there was another reason why, the real reason why you didnt like it: it was the color of love.

Let’s just say that your love life has been…uneventful. Your past partners seemed to remember every day except for Valentine’s Day.

It was frustrating to see other couples exchanging gifts, receiving chocolate, and hold hands while looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. While they were spending time together, there was you and your partner just…there. Now there was nothing wrong with that, but Valentine’s Day was literally the day of love. The day of the color red.

“Why the long face?” A caring voice asked. “Someone like you doesn’t have a reason to frown.”

“Oh, hey Sanji.” You muttered, looking out sea.

“Talk to me.” He replied. “I’m here for you.”

Sighing, you turned and looked at him, hands on your waist and a smirk on your face. “Red.” You said. “I hate it.”

“Do you want me to tell Luffy to change his shirt?” He asked, trying to fix your issue. “I think it’s a terrible color too—”

“I mean, yes it would be lovely if he changed it but that’s not the real reason why.” You admitted. “This sounds stupid but it’s about…love.”

Hearing hesitation in your voice, Sanji didn’t respond and waited for you to continue.

“Love is dumb. Y’know? Especially if someone forgets they love you. Or really, really cares about you. Where I live, every February 14 is Valentine’s Day, when couples celebrate that with each other.”

“Ohhh,” he trailed. “A day of love? Interesting…”

“And I—I mean, other people who are in relationships who forget that they care about the other are dumb. People are just dumb, okay?” Heated from your rant, you quietly thanked Sanji for listening and walked away. Being the romantic he is, you were sure that he would never forget a day like that if he lived in your village.

“Hey,” Zoro’s voice called out, “I’ve got something to show you.”

You looked up from where you were mopping and laughed. “Since when have you ever had anything to show me?”

Not acknowledging the sarcasm, Zoro added, “let’s just go to the kitchen. And, do not. I repeat, do not listen to Luffy when we pass him.”

Curious, you nodded your head and followed the swordsman. Lo and behold, when Luffy saw both of you, he tried to wriggle free from his imprisonment. He was stuffed into a barrel with Usopp sitting on top. The sniper waved his hand with a smile. “Hope you’re ready!” He said excitedly.

“You guys! Feed me because I’m so hungry!” Luffy said sadly. “I need meat!”

“Shut up, Luffy!” Usopp exclaimed, hitting the barrel. While Luffy protested, Zoro walked you to the kitchen and left you at the entrance, not saying goodbye. Shrugging your shoulders, you knocked on the door and heard a singsong voice in the other side.

“Come in!” Sanji yelled. When you opened the door and entered the kitchen, you gasped. In front of you was a table seated for two with a vase of flowers in the middle, and plates in front of each chair. There was a variety of food to choose from, dishes ranging from your village to the Baratie.

“Sanji?” You asked.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He smiled, walking you to the table. Being the gentleman he is, he pulled out your chair and pushed you in after you sat down. He knelt down and gave you a red rose. “I hope you learn to like the color red again.”

Giggling, you pulled him in for a cheek kiss. “Thank you.”

#one piece #one piece writing #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji oneshot #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji oneshot #request #thank you friend!

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lunagojo · 1 year

Text

Various Anime Boys: Being Told "I love you" For the First Time (Part 4!)

Full disclaimer about this part, this is a partial revision of the first part, I decided to go more in depth with the first few guys I did :) I will continue to revise the rest of the boys I did in the first part <3 Please enjoy!

Featured: Satoru Gojo, Dabi / Touya Todoroki, Giyuu Tomioka

Warnings: Dabi being a bit rude

~ Part 1 ~ ~ Part 2 ~ ~ Part 3 ~ ~ Part 5 ~

Satoru Gojo

(love of my life <3)

“Y/NNNNNNNNN. Let’s go do sooommmeeethinnnnngggg. This is boooooring.” Satoru whined, reclining on your couch.

“You’re the one who decided to come over when you knew damn well I’m working on my thesis, Satoru.” You replied, brows furrowed in concentration as you typed away at your desk. The deadline for your paper was fast approaching and you were stressed, to say the least. That much Satoru could tell.

He stretched himself out, long limbs dangling off the sides of the plush sofa. “Why d’you need to do this stuff anyway? All it does is stress you out n’ keep you away from me.”

You had been friends with Satoru for years now, having met him back when you worked at a cake shop. You had commented on how his spending there would finance your whole university tuition, and it had gone from there.

He was handsome, of course. But also funny, endearing, and so unbearably annoying. But he did have a heart of gold, you had to admit, and a very blunt manner of speaking to say the least. He didn’t mince words when it came to people he didn’t like, and that was something that you admired. He spent so much money on you, too; you couldn’t understand why. Satoru insisted that he was merely giving you what you deserved, but some of the gifts had been of the more sentimental and intimate variety, like the custom made locket necklace he had made for you, when you had mentioned your grandmother had one just like it.

Suffice it to say, you had feelings for him, strong ones. But a small part of you had doubts, which would creep up just when you had mustered the strength to tell him. Satoru Gojo was a beautiful, strapping young man, perfect in nearly every way. How could he ever see you as anything more than a friend?

You snorted. “If I don’t get this in I’ll fail and I’ll have to repeat the whole year, and that’ll set me back. I need to make something of myself, Toru.”

He rolled off the couch and strolled over to your desk, placing his hands on your shoulders. “What if you took a break though? Just for tonight? C’mon, I miss you.”

You looked over your shoulder to see glimmering big blue eyes peering at you, a soft pout on Satoru’s lips. “You’re such a child,” You sighed, but relented for now. After all, he was here and he was doing nothing but distracting you. And a break did sound nice. “Fine. What do you wanna do?” You asked, resting back in your desk chair.

“Something fun.”

“Like…?”

“Iunno, let’s go out! Let’s see what’s playing at the theatre or if they got my favourite cake back in stock at the shop!” He pulled you out of your chair, grinning.

“Oh, of course.” You rolled your eyes, but you did enjoy seeing him smile. He was annoying as hell, but you had to admit…it was kinda cute. You stood, going to grab your keys. “Or, we could go stock up on snacks, find some dumb movies, come back here and stay up til 4 AM.” You suggested with a smile. Satoru’s smile widened and he grasped your hand eagerly.

“Yes! You’re a genius, Y/N! Let’s go!” He started to pull you toward the door.

“Hah, I love you, Satoru, you dork.”

He froze in place, looking back at you with huge eyes. “Wha?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You said you love me.”

“I did?” You looked confused.

“Yeah, you did.” He turned and smooshed your cheeks in his palms. “Do you mean it? You’re not just pulling my leg, are you? ‘Cause that would be beyond cruel, Y/N. I have a heart too, y’know!”

You chewed on your lip, heat rising in your face. You did love him. He was an idiot, but you didn’t want him to be anyone else’s idiot. Slowly you nodded, placing a hand over one of his.

His blue eyes softened and he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “Tell me again.” He murmured.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo.” You replied in a whisper, your eyes half-lidded but still locked on his.

Without second thought his lips met yours and he kissed you tenderly, his fingers tucking through your hair. You swore you could hear his heart thudding in his chest. When he pulled away, hesitantly, he smiled and grabbed your hand again.

“Dunno if we’re gonna be watching all too much of the movies,” He said with a wiggle of his brows. “But we can still try, I’m a good multitasker.” He looked back at you, his grin widening. “And, in case it wasn’t obvious, Y/N, I love you, too. I always have.”

Dabi / Touya Todoroki

(I love him sm, he deserved so much better... :( )

You were busy doing your university homework when you heard a tap on your window. Yep, it was 3 AM, about that time. Without hesitation you got up and went to the window, sliding it open.

Hazy blue eyes met yours as booted feet landed on the floor. “Thought you were gonna leave me out here to fuckin’ freeze.” Dabi said, grumbling as he maneuvered his way in.

“I came here as soon as I heard you,” You argued back. Never a thank you from Dabi, even though he had been crashing at your place for the past six months. You both had met almost a year ago, when the League of Villains had crossed your path on your way home from work one night. Their leader, some guy with a hand on his face, wanted to kill you in case you were gonna narc on them, but for some reason, a couple of the others in the group had stopped him. Dabi wouldn't stop staring at you that night.

Since then he'd show up at your place every night around 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning. He claimed it was because the cops and heroes would never suspect him to be hiding out in a random civilian's home, but you were somewhat suspicious of the validity of that. After all, he'd said it'd only be for a couple weeks and here you were six months later.

“Is your hot water back on again?” He asked casually, kicking off his boots. “I fuckin’ smell.”

“What kind of trouble did you get up to tonight?” You asked, wrinkling your nose. “You smell like a lawnmower.”

Dabi snorted. “None of your damn business, brat.” His words were harsh but his tone was almost tired. “Is it on again or not?”

You nodded, “Yeah, it's on. Washed the clothes you left the other night, too.”

Once again, not a thank you in sight as he went off to your bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You sighed. What were you doing? Why were you going to all this trouble for someone like him? You could just as easily lock your window and cut him off, but you didn't want to. A part of you felt that he needed someone to help him, be there for him. You could tell it was hard for him to show any sort of emotion other than gruff and bothered…and you could sense he had more pain and heartbreak than most people realized.

You went back to work on your homework, quietly writing away in your notebook. You tried to ignore the sound of the bathroom door opening and Dabi walking down the hallway.

Warm breath fanned across the back of your neck suddenly and you shivered in response.

“Why do you bother with this crap?” Dabi asked, leaning over your shoulder. He smelled like your body wash. You tried to hide the telltale blush growing on your face.

“Counter question. Why are you here, Dabi? It's been six months.”

“You know why, dumbass.”

You turned in your seat. “You're here every night now, you use my shower, sleep on my couch, eat my food, and I don't get any sort of appreciation or even a thank you. I'm harboring a fucking criminal in my apartment and you don't seem to be bothered.”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Yknow I could ask the same of you. Why do you keep letting me in, then? Washing my clothes, too, getting me those snacks I told you I like…why do you fuckin seem to care so much?!”

“Because I'm in love with you!” You blurted suddenly, hands balled into fists.

Dabi stood there, stunned. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You really are nuts, then.”

You breathed out a laugh, tears stinging your eyes. Turning back to your work, you tried to focus on your writing again. “Just leave me alone, Dabi.”

“Nah, don't think I will.” A hand slid along your shoulder. “Put that shit away and look at me, for God's sake.”

With a heavy sigh, you did as he said, only to be met with rough lips on yours. A sound of surprise escaped your throat but you melted into the kiss, fingers finding Dabi's damp black hair.

“There's a million places I could hide out,” he said against your mouth. “But I keep coming back here. Something pulls me back every time. I've never felt what love is, brat, but when I think of what it must feel like, I think of you.”

Giyuu Tomioka

(T_T i just wanna hug him and give him the love he deserves)

You had never seen Giyuu smile in the time you had known him. You two were close friends, but time spent with the Water Hashira was quiet and tranquil. You knew it was just the way he was, and didn’t mind it, but you had begun to wonder if he ever smiled at all. In the time that you had known each other, you had formed a deep bond and understanding of one another. It took you a long time to realize that you had feelings for him, but you could never tell him. It would ruin everything you both already had.

You two were returning from a mission one night, battered and exhausted from the fight you had just endured, and were intent on finding some place to sleep for the night. Ubuyashiki’s mansion and the Butterfly Manor were too far away, so it seemed like the only option for you both was to find an inn to rest in for the night, and then you could return properly the next morning.

You both finally found a place to stay for the night, but the owner of the inn charged you two an exorbitant amount of yen to stay. Giyuu huffed and, irritated, paid the man, before leading the way to your room silently. He had been dead silent the whole time you had traveled back, and this time, you were worried. Normally he would ask if you were okay or if you needed anything, but this time he was quiet.

“…Are you serious?” Giyuu asked, to nobody in particular, when he opened the sliding door. Only one futon.

You looked over his shoulder at the room and sighed. You had been looking forward to just going to bed after the hell you two had been through.

Giyuu sighed and ran a callused hand over his face, his blue eyes narrowed.

You glanced at him. “…Giyuu…You take the futon, I can just…figure something else out.”

“No.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor after what we just went through. We’ll just have to…sleep together, I suppose.” He looked away quickly, a small blush on his face.

“Sleep together?”

“Not…not like that,” He replied quickly, his face turning from pink to full-blown red. “Just…just sleeping. Beside each other.”

“If you’re okay with that, Giyuu, then I am.” You offered him a small smile, momentarily placing a hand on his arm as you entered the room. He was incredibly tense.

You both bathed first, one at a time, then returned to the room. Giyuu had gone first, and when you came back, he was perched on the futon, his haori and Demon Slayer Corps uniform folded neatly on the floor with his nichirin sword laid atop. He still had his underclothes on, but his torso was bare. You paused, studying his bare back and the various scars that adorned his pale skin. Your heart hurt when you suddenly realized how much Giyuu must have been through. Was that why he was so quiet, and distanced himself from everyone else?

“You’re letting all the cold in,” Giyuu said suddenly, startling you.

“Oh. Right. Sorry…” You quickly shut the sliding door behind you, setting your own clothing down on the floor before crawling under the thick comforter and settling on the futon. It felt heavenly to finally rest your weary, sore muscles.

Giyuu watched you for a moment before following your lead, settling in beside you. His blue eyes scanned your face.

“…What?” You asked, “Did I miss a spot of dirt on my face or something?”

“No,” Giyuu replied, a small tinge of pink rising in his face.

“Giyuu…”

“I’m…going to sleep. Goodnight, Y/N.” He said quietly, starting to roll onto his other side, so he would be facing away from you. You caught him by the arm, however, stopping him.

“…Have you been doing okay, lately? You’re way quieter than usual…I’m getting a bit worried about you.” You told him, your eyes meeting his again.

The Water Hashira sighed, “…I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

“Me?” You looked surprised. “Why?”

“…Because you terrify me.” He replied, and if you hadn’t seen the look on his face you would have thought he was joking.

“…Why?”

“It…doesn’t matter. Let’s just go to sleep, okay.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

Something came over you then. You didn’t know what it was, but you acted without really thinking it through first. Your hands cupped his face and you gently kissed him. It only lasted for a moment, but when you pulled away, Giyuu was looking at you with wide, stunned eyes.

His mouth moved, trying to form words, but nothing came out. “Wha…”He finally gasped out. “Why’d you…”

“…Because I love you, Giyuu. And I didn’t want to say anything because I was worried that it would ruin everything, and I’m sorry if it has, I just couldn’t—” You were cut off by another kiss, one instigated by him this time.

You gazed at him in surprise.

“You terrify me,” Giyuu said, holding your face in his hands. “Because I feel things for you that have been foreign to me for so long. I was…too afraid to say anything.” His lips pulled into a small but genuine smile. The first smile you had ever seen from him.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

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8um8le · 6 months

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Little special post of cat and earth interacting even though they are not in the same universe :-))

also bonus text from the little bot under the cut:

Hellooo everyone, I’m earth! A reality tv star!, one of the main cast members of “space friends”

Don’t get me confused with the other three, Cataclysm and Geo, but it wont be hard to get us mixed up since I’m the most handsome hahah.

This is a little exclusive on our little freak-show, right now I’m not on air for “Space Friends” so I’m not tied down by rules.

y’know it’s easy being such a talented bot that good at everything like me, so when the shows on, the team likes to add misfortune on me at random for the sake of making things more funny, like making trip on a pebble in front of a crowd, or have my luck completely disappear, humiliation to be more “relate-able”, I MEAN I DIDNT SPEND MY ENTIRE LIFE TO BE TOP OF THE CLASS TO BE A CLOWN- anyways

Firstly I should tell you a little summary of the show. Sooo, we’re basically like galactic clowns, we entertain people in a variety of ways. It can be on our earth, or a complete different dimension, the genre can change from time to time, depending on our prompt.

Sometimes we just film normal days at our office/ headquarters, doing some goofy shenanigans, or even our own homes. Oh I should mention, I live in a forest, Comet lives in a cave, Moon lives in the ocean and sun lives in a volcano.

Although we do all our stunts, we still need some help from our talented team of individuals for censorship. We can’t have any swear words, or heavy gore on our show, but with movie magic our team seamlessly changes the audio and visuals in a perfectly convincing way!

They go real easy on our guest compared to our main cast, we have a whole bunch of rules!

That’s it, see you soon!

#sc space friends #lore #sc cataclysm #sf hills

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smallidarity-rpf · 28 days

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HIIIHIHI TUMBLR USER SMALLIDARITY-RPF can I get some smallidarity of the hurt/comfort variety with Joel getting comforted maybe for a change or jimmy idk I just need more fluffy smallidarity pretty please okay bye

Hell yeah! Sorry it took so long I didn't realize job would tire me out so much yesterday-

Fair warning, I couldn't think of a setting like when and where this takes place- just knew i wanted a life game so like- details on that is vague, hope it's alright-

_______________________

Joel was lying in bed curled up, his eyes puffy from crying. He was tough, he was strong, he wasn't someone who cried- but he was alone, and he couldn't stop himself. It's easy to save face around everyone during these games, but once the session was over… once he was alone… He shouldn't have cried, not over Timmy of all people. Of course he died, he always does! It's just… Joel couldn't understand why it felt different this time, was it because he saw Tim die? Because for once he'd actually hoped that stupid canary wouldn't? He didn't know. All Joel knew right now was his bed and the itch left in his eyes as they dried and the salt left started to crust up.

“Wow you look terrible!” A familiar voice laughed out through the empty room, and Joel quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes. Both wanting to hide the evidence and see if he was crazy.

There at the end of his bed was Jimmy- well it looked like Jim, but they were a transparent blueish-gray and emitted a slight glow. Joel stared wide eyed as the entity slowly began to smirk. “Did you miss me that much?” And yep, that was Tim’s voice.

“Jimmy!?” He called and pushed up in bed, getting onto all fours to crawl closer, “You- but you-”

“I’m dead?”

“You died!” He announced, laughing a bit hysterically. It was impossible, the only way they should be there was with spectator-

“Yeah, something’s going on so I'm a ghost for a bit.” Jimmy shrugged, “I thought I'd visit you though before it's fixed.” Tim smiled and quickly sat on the bed next to Joel, who stared absolutely dumbfounded. “So, what’ve you been up to?” Joel stared at their expectant look and slowly sat next to them, shivering a bit- Tim was cold.

“Uhm… killed some people uh-” Joel stared into Jim's eyes and went quiet, he couldn't find his words. As he stared though the other frowned.

“Have you really been crying?” A cold hand was placed onto Joel's cheek as Jim gently rubbed a thumb under his eye. “Are you doing okay…?” Jim's head tilted to the side as he asked, Joel watching his features. Same Jimmy as always.

“W- well you- you died what do you think!” Joel was quick to retort, trying to hide what he'd been feeling. A blush spread onto his cheeks as he went to shove Jim away- but only ended up falling through the other. Right, ghost.

Jimmy looked down at Joel and smiled softly, “I dunno,” his smile became lopsided, “thought you didn't care that much.” He shrugged and thread cold fingers through Joel's hair. He almost closed his eyes, it felt nice.

“Of course I care,” The shorter grumbled and sat up, frowning as Jim's fingers left him. “you’re still my friend, I'm still watching you die…” He meant for it to come out sharp, but instead his words were soft, melancholy even as he thought about how much he'd seen Jim's massive and goofy grin stolen away from him in blood.

When Joel looked back at the blond he was frowning softly, looking at Joel with pity- no, it was something else, something kinder but he couldn't place it. “Oh… I never thought- I didn't realize-” Jim tried to say but stopped, glancing away as he found his words. “Everyone… Everyone always treats my death as a joke, I didn't think it'd ever be… well y’know, that big of a deal…” Joel frowned, feeling a bit guilty about all the canary jokes all of a sudden. “Well-” Jim smiled at Joel, “at least now I know you're soft!” He teased, his tongue sticking out.

Joel took the bait, suddenly smiling as he tried to look annoyed, “What! Me soft!? No no- I'd never be soft!” He joked and smiled more as Tim laughed.

“Then what's with those red eyes!” Jim pushed a finger into Joel's face making him snicker quietly.

“Uh, red name so red eyes. Wow, you're so stupid.” Jim made a face of mock hurt.

“No! You're the stupid one, thinking you can act all- all emotionless!” Jim pushed Joel over onto the bed, both of them laughing now.

“It’s cause I am babe! So so emotionless.” He turned to Jim and smiled, his chest fluttering as he saw them smile back. They stayed like that for a small moment, just smiling and giggling quietly, until Tim spoke up.

“Better?” Joel nodded, and Jimmy was quick to roll closer and hug the other man, making him shiver.

“Cold…” He lightly complained.

“Want me to leave? I can go visit Grian or Scott-” Joel quickly put arms around him.

“No. My ice cube.” He smiled and was glad when Jimmy snuggled up to him.

“Okay weirdo, I'll stay right here.” Joel smiled and closed his eyes, holding on tight to the ice cube next to him.

#ask #canary fic #smallidarity #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity

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throughgoeshamilton · 1 year

Text

Resurrection

A The Other Shelby story

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x fem!reader (OC hybrid)

Summary: A Jewish gangster resurrecting from the dead and his love trying to deal with the situation.

Words: 2.500

Warnings: none

A/N: Big thanks to @cillmequick for beta reading and being so supportive of me 🫶 Same goes to @queenshelby for the emotional support 🥺

Her hands were fidgety on the steering wheel as she navigated the car through the streets of Kent. She wished she could've distracted herself from her nerves by petting Cyril next to her but the Bullmastiff was too big of a beast to properly fit into the passenger seat. He got that from his dad. Instead, he was resting in the backseat, looking out of the window from time to time whenever they drove past something mildly interesting for a dog.

When the car came to a stop half an hour later, she allowed herself a second to take a deep breath and mentally prepare. For what exactly, she didn't know.

Cyril had his snout on the ground the entire way from her car to the front door of the welcoming beach home, his tail constantly wagging, as if he knew something she didn't.

She sighed before she pressed the doorbell and moments later, the heavy door opened, revealing a tall middle aged woman wearing a housekeeper uniform. The lady stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the short redhead and the huge dog in front of her.

“Miss Shelby…”

“Hello Mary” she replied shyly.

It has only been two months, yet it felt like an eternity to her. An eternity filled with what had felt like incurable grief, and a strange kind of hope.

“Is he home yet?”

Mary kept staring at her, as if she couldn't process what that question was supposed to mean, who “he” was, before she nodded slightly and took a step aside to let the young woman and the dog enter.

“He released himself from the hospital two days ago. The doctor comes to see him twice a day now, to make sure he…” Mary paused, apparently unsure about what was left for the doctor to heal at this point, “I have to warn you, Miss Shelby, it's not a pretty sight.”

She didn't give her a response to that statement as she followed the maid upstairs to what she assumed to be the master bedroom. Of course, it wasn't pretty. Her brother had shot him in the face. It was a miracle he was still alive.

Mary gently knocked on the door before slowly opening it, even though no one inside the room had given them permission to enter.

“Mister Solomons… there's someone who would like to see you.”

Alfie was lying on his bed, eyes closed, hands folded on his stomach and if it wasn't for the slow smacking of his lips, she would've thought he was dead for real. The big wound that covered half of his face was still slightly red and swollen, a very prominent scar was about to stay right below his eye.

“Tell’em to come ‘ere another time. 'm resting.”

“Only God knows why you're not resting in hell right now.”

On the way from London to Margate, she had told herself that she would be gentle with him. He was still healing so the last thing he needed was her taking out her anger on him immediately. But the way he was lying there, in a big four-poster bed with several flasks of medicine, empty and full, next to him on the bedside table, with the aftermath of her brother's assassination attempt so obvious, she couldn't control the variety of feelings that went through every inch of her body. She was angry, oh so angry at him. At the same time, she was happy he was still here.

Her Alfie.

The sound of her voice made him open his eyes slowly, squinting against the sunlight that flooded the room. He was looking at her, not showing the slightest reaction to her standing here, in his bedroom, two months after he had tried to fuck over her whole family and her brother had shot him for it. Alfie cleared his throat before he started speaking again.

“Y’know, treacle, at the hospital… they gave me some pretty strong shit I s’ppose. You were there all the time. But Cyril is new, look a’ him. Good boy. Does mamma take good care of ya? Bet she does.”

He was interrupted by a nasty cough that had him screw up his face in pain as the skin around the deep wound seemed to stretch due to the sudden movement. It made her painfully aware how much recovering he still had to do and that was only what was visible from the outside. The damage Tommy’s bullet had done inside his skull, physically and mentally, was to be explored by her in the upcoming days.

She took a few steps closer to his bed until she was at the height of his stomach where she carefully put her hand on one of his arms.

“I'm real, Alfie. This has nothing to do with the morphine. Cyril is real too.”

As if to prove her point, the huge dog sat down on the other side of his dad's bed, lying his big head onto the mattress and getting it wet with his slobber. Alfie reached out to him, petting him softly as if to test that he wasn't touching a pipe dream of his.

“I reckon I died in my sleep and went to hell with ya, treacle. But Cyril belongs in heaven, so ‘is not right.”

The fact that he saw both of them rotting in hell while his dog had to go to heaven made her chuckle. He wasn't wrong though.

“How did ya find out your little cunt of a brother failed in putting an end to my life?”

“Alfie!”

“Sorry right, yeah. Your big cunt of a brother.”

She rolled her eyes at him but smiled nonetheless. Even with all the unresolved anger, grief, sadness and heartbreak inside of her, he still knew the way straight to her heart: by making her laugh.

“You wrote me a letter from the hospital, giving me your address here in Margate. I have to say, it was pretty rude of you to keep this place from me the whole time. We could've come here for holidays.”

“Yeah y’know, treacle, I would've told you but then everything went south and I figured, I should die here alone. If your brother had done his job right, that is.”

There was a lump building in her throat. She would've told him something too, before everything went south.

“I bought it for us, for when we retire. But now 'm officially dead so you could say my retirement is long overdue, innit?”

He had his eyes closed again as she absentmindedly stroked his forearm and thought about his words. They could've had it so much easier, hadn't he cheated Tommy with the Changrettas. She cleared her throat and left his bedside as she approached the bedroom door.

“I'd like to stay a few days, if that's okay with you. Nobody knows I'm here, you'll stay a dead man for the rest of the Shelby family for as long as you want.”

“You could put it in the papers and it still wouldn't make up for half of what I did to you, treacle.”

She didn't know how to feel about his sudden mea culpa. Something like that didn't come lightly from a man like Alfie Solomons but the nonchalance with which he had said the words made her swallow hard. He allowed himself to look at her again, the gaze of his good eye was as soft as she remembered it from happier times between the two of them.

“Tell Mary to give you a room and if there's anything you need, tell her too. She'll take care of it.”

“I'll be fine, Alfie.”

Mary was kind enough to prepare one of the other bedrooms in the house for her, even though she had reassured her that she was more than capable of taking care of everything herself. Unlike a certain Jewish gangster peacefully snoring next door, now that the doctor had given him another dose of medicine.

Within the next few days, she made sure to support Mary in her chores, against the harsh protests of the middle-aged housekeeper. But besides helping her in the kitchen, making breakfast, lunch and dinner, she first and foremost took over the nursing duties for Alfie. The wound needed to be cleaned regularly and treated with ointment to help the healing and prevent further infections. Apart from that, he needed help whenever he wanted to get up. His bad hip and the sciatica didn't take well to all the lying down he had to do.

On his good days, they walked a little, his arm linked with hers for support, although she knew that in the worst case, there was no way she could catch and hold this beast of a man. Sometimes they even made it to the beach, letting Cyril stroll through the sand as they watched the ships passing by. It was risky business to be outside with him because if the word got out that Alfie Solomons was still alive, the peace he had found for himself here would come to an abrupt end. Not that it was likely anyone who knew Alfie, let alone was interested in his business, would wander the beaches of Margate but at the same time, she hadn't expected the man himself to settle down here of all places. You never knew where those gangsters were causing trouble.

“Even if, and that is a big if, love… even if there was someone strolling along the beach trying to kill this old fragile man,” Alfie had said to her one day after she had voiced her concern for his safety, “I have a gun and you, luv, are the best shot in all of England, aren't ya? Nothing to worry about.”

He had shown her said gun he was carrying under his big black coat, making her roll her eyes at him. If she had thought a shot to his face had changed anything about his ways, she had been wrong. How naïve of her. But who was she to judge? Not like her ways were any less brutal.

That had been the first time she had let Alfie intertwine his fingers with hers while they still had had their arms linked, him slightly leaning onto her every time his hip had sent a stinging pain through his leg. When they had arrived back at the house, he had brought her hand to his face and gently kissed her knuckles before looking into her eyes, searching for a reaction that would've shown him that they were getting better. She had known he couldn't have said it, hadn't had the words or the courage to make himself even more vulnerable in front of her. Nonetheless, she had felt his silent “thank you” through the little gesture and she had known it hadn't been just for keeping him company on a walk to the beach. It had stood for everything he hadn't said thank you for yet and even when she had sensed all that, in that moment, she had wished he had said it out loud, so not only her mind had heard it, but her heart as well.

The treatment of his face had become another ritual of theirs that they'd cultivate before every meal they had together. With the nurses and then Mary taking care of it, he had been annoyed each time he had heard the noise of a washcloth being wrung out. This wasn't his first gunshot wound and if he chose to resurrect, it wouldn't be his last either. But now that his love, the love he had thought he had lost - and maybe he had - was gently petting over the scarring tissue, being babied didn't feel so bad to the former King of Camden Town.

She was sitting on the side of his bed, her hip touching his as she was leaning over, trying not to hurt him while also getting rid of the matter his skin produced regularly to heal the wound.

“I wanna ask you a favour, treacle.”

She sighed as she put down the washcloth from the bad side of his face.

“What is it, Alfie?"

“I want one of ya special kisses.”

“For fuck’s sake Alfie, I'm not gonna blow your-”

“Not like that… a kiss from you. It’s special to me.”

He looked at her, studied her face with his good eye while the other one felt like it was piercing through her, making her look away from him.

“I love ya, treacle. And I think there's a reason you came ‘ere, and stayed.”

Her hands were soaking from the wet cloth in them so she put it back into the small bowl of water on the bedside table while she was processing his words. There was a reason indeed.

“I love you too, Alfie, still do. That's the problem. After what you did to my family, I should've come here to finish what Tommy couldn't,” she had been staring at her wet hands the whole time, trying to keep her composure as her nerves felt like they were eating her up from the inside, “but I could never.”

She now turned her head towards him, taking one of his big paws between her delicate fingers to lead it underneath her blouse, onto her stomach, as she looked at his face.

“There is a reason I came here, and I stayed. The doctor says it's four months, size of a pear now.”

Alfie had never been known to be the emotional type but the way he stared at her belly, hand still resting there, with an expression on his face that she couldn't read, he scared her.

Did he not want it?

As his fingers started to move, gently stroking her slight bump, she relaxed a little.

“Four months you say, eh? So when it's coming in five… is it gonna be a Solomons or a Shelby?”

His question hurt her, the fact that he was unsure if he was allowed to be a father to the child or not, but at the same time, it made her love him even more. He knew he didn't have a right to stay in her or the baby's life, not after everything he put her through. He always made sure to keep her safe, making her part of the deal so she wouldn't be harmed. But that didn't change the emotional damage he had done to her by threatening her family.

When she let go of his hand on her stomach, she put hers on the good side of his face instead, the pad of her thumb caressing his beard.

“We have five months to figure this out,” she smiled at him before leaning down to carefully touch his lips with hers in a soft kiss.

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