Tumgik
#✧ ❝the answer was buried in our memories❞ ✧ answer.
babocka · 9 months
Text
Tag drop: General. Some of these may be subject to change, but for now, pretty happy!
#[ ooc. ] i'm gonna go paint the wall. i have to finish fifteen walls today. sigh.#[ ic. ] we tell them “things will be better tomorrow.” everyone knows it's a lie; but it gets them to sleep with some hope.#[ answered: ooc. ] pfft no way; telepathy ain't real! ... wait a minute. you're not actually trying to read my mind; are you?#[ answered: ic. ] that's not the only thing you won't have heard of down here; princess.#[ psa. ] even if you've completely forgotten our promise. then i'll just have to knock you out and bring you back myself!#[ saved. ] unlike you; my memories from when i was little are crystal clear.#[ prompts / memes. ] fine. i'll play along. but it's only because i'm not busy today.#[ crack. ] If any disagreement arises between us. i don't care if we're fighting or arguing. you must come confront me in person.#[ salt. ] arguing through text? isn't that unfulfilling? might as well fight again in person. just quickly clear the air; end the conflict.#[ et cetera. ] hmph. i'm no good at consoling. but i can hit you on the head a few times. no problem.#[ self promotion. ] wear this red scarf; and then we shall share each other's pain. we are family. we are wildfire.#[ promotion. ] nah; i could've taken it on by myself. but still... fighting alongside you two was pretty fun.#[ visage. ] to all those thugs and gangsters in the underworld; i'm like a spectre always haunting them.#[ meta. ] oleg gave me the name. he said that it meant “soul” in ancient belobogian.#[ mini study. ] we may live underground; but we won't be buried by this city.#[ essence. ] she got used to people losing their homes. and she got used to people losing their lives. but crying alone was useless.
0 notes
iceunhie · 7 months
Text
voicelines about you: as their lover !
featuring: imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, gepard. (+ jingliu and kafka)
notes: headcanons! some might be ooc HELP. i couldn't resist writing for hsr man… also jingliu and kafka sneak bc mmm i love morally questionable women 🤩. gn!reader. reader is not trailblazer. some fluff, some angst (?) kinda. reblogs are very much appreciated!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Imbibitor Lunae (Danheng IL)
About [Name]: They're one of the few people who's never condemned me for Danfeng's sins, nor ever tried to get me to own up to them. Their presence is very comforting to me. My lover? *coughs* Y-yes, they are.
About [Name]: Selfies Aside from March, [Name] always seems to ask me to take photos with their camera. Hm? No, I don't really mind. If it makes them feel happy, then that's enough reason for me to agree.
About [Name]: Photo Albums [Name] made an Express photo album with March yesterday. Yeah, pictures of our adventures and memories, according to them. It's in the Data Bank, so just ask me if you want to take a look at it.
Tumblr media
Gepard Landau
About [Name]: [Name] is the most amazing individual I've met. Their determination and their will to pursue their goals to the fullest… I'm proud to call them my lover. Oh, ah… Was that too forward?
About [Name]: Lending a Hand Oftentimes, Serval asks [Name] to help her carry some things for her workshop. Although the times I get to personally help out are rare due to my duties, I still make it a point to support them by asking the Silvermane Guards to keep an eye out for them and help carry my sister's things for them if it's too heavy. Of course. They're always my top priority.
About Serval: Nagging Every time Serval stops by my post, it usually means [Name]'s run into some difficulties, which I try to help them out in. While her telling me about my lover's state is greatly appreciated, she always nags and teases me being a fool for them and… *sigh* No, it's alright, really. I'm thankful that my sister cares about [Name] and goes out of her way to talk to them for me. Still, I do hope her nagging would decrease next time.
Tumblr media
Jing Yuan
About [Name]: Hm? [Name]? Yes, they're indeed my lover. Hehe, now that you've brought them up, I should go look for them. I'm afraid I've grown so used to the feeling of laying my head on their lap that no other pillow can suffice. Ah, what a predicament…
About [Name]: Spending Time Together While I do enjoy dozing off, [Name] makes a point to let me rest at a more appropriate place, instead of at the Seat of The Divine Foresight, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Oftentimes, I do as they say, but when I'm not and just craving their presence… Heh, now that's another matter entirely.
(BONUS! - Yanqing's Voiceline) About [Name]: Oh, [Name]? They always give me some extra allowance for buying swords, buying me sweets and food I like… Of course I won't say no to that! Sometimes, them being with me when I'm being scolded by the General for my expenses helps a lot. Probably because they're the only one the General can't say no to.
Tumblr media
Jingliu
About [Name]: ….Do you really think you have the right to know about them? This is a warning. Try to ask again and perhaps you'll be faced with the end of my blade as my answer.
About [Name]: Soothed The whispers of the marastruck, succumbing to the Abundance… They are the only one able to calm the storm of my thoughts. For that, I am grateful for their patience and their kindness.
(BONUS 2! - Jing Yuan's Voiceline) About Name: While Master's current state is one of irreparable damage, at the very least… She has someone to hold onto while she grapples with the curse of mara. Even if I don't quite believe she's the Jingliu I knew from before, I know that her feelings for [Name] are sincere. I just hope she doesn't end up hurting them in the process.
Tumblr media
Kafka
About [Name]: Aha, now thats a question I didn't expect to hear from you. My lover? Yes, [Name] is that to me. I very much enjoy their love and affection, you know. Even if it isn't on the script, I'd still mention them. Quite romantic of me, no?
About [Name]: Trophy They always, always chide me about me ruining my velvet coats when we finish up a script. What's wrong with a little blood? I keep most of them as trophies. There's one I'm especially fond of, too. They think it's rather embarassing that I keep the coat from the time they got injured on the job. Although the stains have long since turnt black, there's still a faint scent of iron in it. Hm? What do I mean by that? Heh, let's just say I don't take any harm coming to [Name] lightly. While they call it a reminder of their lack of caution, I'd rather call it a little show of my affection~
About [Name]: Destiny's Course Elio refused to tell me about what my future with them would be, saying that the path in that choice is quite difficult to discern, and I think it's for the best. I suppose if [Name] decided to leave the Stellaron Hunters, hm, would locking them up till they can't leave me anymore suffice….? Haha, just kidding. I wouldn't let them leave in the first place.
Tumblr media
© 𝐌𝐇𝐈𝐈𝐄𝐄𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.
2K notes · View notes
hwathinker · 1 month
Text
"aww, why are you crying baby? come on, i'm gonna take a break now can i?"
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairings ; best friend!yunho x fem!reader warnings ; i don't think there is.. (i'm joking.. there's cockwarming, blowjobs(?), petnames) just yunho being a tease and annoying.. i really love the cocky + nerdy concept on yunho ;) wn ; hey! i finally got a free time today, so i decided to spend it on writing something. i'll be taking requests by the way! i'm hoping to see some smutty reqs from ya'll hahaha
"come on y/n, its not that hard to memories these shit." yunho said, poking your head which was buried to the book you were supposed to read. you had spent over an hour in his apartment, just for a study session. you also promised yourself to study for real this time but i guess the tiredness and laziness in you held you back. you shook your head aggressively, making him stop touching you. "y/n, we have a really tight schedule and i know you know that. plus our presentation is in 3 days. spend your time studying so you won't have to struggle to go out with me." you shot your head up as soon as yunho mentioned about going out. your parents doesn't really let you go out unless you do something great in school. but with pleasing them by doing house chores, you know you could get out easily. well, not every time.
"ugh.. how many times do i have to read these?!" pointing at the open book, you looked at him. "if you really want me to memories this then how about you?" you held the book up close to your face, shooting your eyes up to him then at the book back to make sure he isn't peeking. yunho sighed, letting go of his pen and turning to you. he looked at the book title, making a face to remember something. "well, physics huh.. what page are you in?" he asked, shifting his body and putting his arm on the table so that he can rest his head on his fist with his cheeks. you quickly went to the first page, knowing that he doesn't pay that much attention on a first page of a book. "uh.. page one. i'm not telling you what it is though." you said, burying your head to the book once again and shifting you gaze between the book and yunho every 4 seconds. yunho smiled, pretending to remember what was on the first page. "physics is the natural science of matter, involving the study of matter, its fundamental constituents, its motion and behavior through space and time, and the related entities of energy and force." you read what was on the page along with what he said, your eyes slowly going wide as he do.
"the fuck?! how in the earth did you remember every damn word in this one ass page?!" you slammed the green book on the table, going up close to him with rage in you. "i don't know, maybe i started to pay attention to the first page now. or maybe not, because i'm smart." he said, going back to his position and continue his revision. "or maybe.. you could help cover for me?" you said, leaning your head on the table as you puppy eyed him as you smile. yunho gave you a silent answer, which was a no. "come on yun, i know you like obeying me." you teased again, smiling ever so widely. "how about you study or i fuck that mouth off." he shift his gaze to you, placing down the pen under his palm.
you pouted, covering your face with your hand. yunho let out a small chuckle, grabbing you by your waist to get you more close. "i've never seen you this shy, y/n. you always fight back my teasings." he said, laying head head on the table too, close to your covered face. "i'd rather have a cock inside me for long enough than having to suck one that has a possibility of piss on it." you mumbled, hoping he won't hear a single thing when he's just right there, in front of you. yunho took your hand away from your face, meeting his eyes that was already staring at you. "do you want to try?" he bit his bottom lip, smiling lightly. you think, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting your lips. "i don't know. so you're hard?" you looked at his reddening face as your hand quickly went to his.. harden clothed dick. oh he is. yunho slaps your hand away quickly, holding them in his big ones. "suck it." he ordered, watching your smile grew wider. "why so needy? were you already planning this all along?" you said, shifting closer to him so there's no more space between the both of you. "sure. i'll do it. but you'll have to do a favor for me, too." you said again,getting up from the table and wait for him to strip. he stood up, sliding his sweats down and place them beside the table. but this time, he went to the sofa, sitting on it then leaning comfortably back while manspreading.
you looked at him with lust, his tongue going over his bottom lips, wetting them then biting them afterwards. he watches you walk towards him, your knee purposely hitting his crotch as you lean in to give his jaw a nice lingering kisses, to his lips. "how long have you been keeping this from me, hm?" you mumbled in the kiss, enjoying his taste. "ever since you appeared like a damn angel in front of me and decided to become my friend." he held your jaw with his hand, caressing them. you ran your hand from his bicep, down to his chest. gently touching every part as possible to make him shudder. you pulled away from the kiss, going down as he watches your every move. your tits, holding onto its dear life in the top you had. it looked like it want to pop out in any second you make a risky move. and your tight low rise jeans. ah, don't mention it anymore. he loves it when you wear that kind of clothes.
after you had took off his boxer, his dick sprung out, precum leaking to his base. "fuck, who are you going big for? me?" you said, grabbing his cock gently, kissing the pink aching tip. he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back. "who else do i have to keep this dick for? of course it was for you, angel." oh god, that nickname has you every time. you licks his cock slowly, going down and fitting the whole base in your mouth. as you suck him off. him, on the other hand are sweating, tears started to form in that boy's eyes. he had his hands placed prettily under your chin so he has a better view while the other caress your hair ever so sweetly. he is this sweet when receiving a blowjob? oh you could do this everyday if it means he is. "mmh, such a good girl. other boys must not be this thick, right? i know you enjoy this so much, baby." he said in between moans, grunts. you swirl your tongue, making a popping sound when letting his cock go. he felt empty, and cold.
yunho pouted, watching his dick being held and watched by you. "y/n.. why did you do that? more please.." he begged, grabbing your free hand and holding them in his. "i want a favor back." you gently pump his cock, watching him biting his bottom lip. "what is it hm..?" he hummed, thinking about what you possibly want. you leaned and lay your cheeks on his cock, looking up to him. "i want you to cover for me for the presentation soon."
and that, you were being sat on his lap while he does his revision. your top thrown away even god don't know where, your jeans and red panties thrown at the sofa. now, you're being forced to sit on his dick that has cummed a few times because you moved a little. you were facing behind, hugging him so tightly, hoping to not make a certain move or he takes a break to play with your hardened tits again. i said, again. you shuddered at the feeling of his liquid constantly coming out and its touching your walls. "y/n baby, don't move please? i've said this a thousandth times already." as he put his pen down, he pulled you so that you're leaning on the edge of the table and facing him. "aww, why are you crying baby? come on, i'm can take a break now can i?"
--
hehe a small yunho smut for ya'll <3 i miss this man so much and have you seen his airport look? god damn i would devour every single inch of it. and have ya'll seen seonghwa's gianna boyfriend?? goshh if he's not putting a shirt on i'm gonna suck those tits LMAO lmk if theres any error guys.. and remember to drop some hot ass smut thoughts on my inbox please im beggin u
414 notes · View notes
onelittlespiral · 3 months
Note
Tf where someone's huge musky cock keeps turning others into massive muscle bros on accident?
FML: Cursed
Up front, I’ll say this one’s a bit different. Let me know if you all like it. -❤️
Everything was too bright. My head was pounding. Memories were fading in and out from last night. Fuck, how much did I have to drink last night? I stumbled out of bed, trying to forced myself towards the bathroom to take a piss. I had made a New Year’s resolution to quit the bottle. Yeah, so much for that. I managed a quick piss and splashed some cold water on my face. That helped a bit. At this point all I wanted to do was bury my head back in my pillow. Slowly, I shuffled back towards my bed:
Tumblr media
“Yeah? You coming back for more of this?”
A man. A man was in my bed. A hunk of a man was flexing in my bed. My mouth hung open for a moment as my brain chugged to life. I couldn’t quite believe it.
“…God damn it! Uggh, what did I let happen?”
“What, not in the mood? I can be quite,” he started a little pec dance, “persuasive.”
I was not in a mood to be amused by his flirting. “No, no it’s not you-or at least it is you now but-” I stammered, “Look. It’s complicated. Get up, please, I need you out of here. If you take some time to… cool off… it should pass.” I paused a moment, “I’m sorry.”
Quickly, I started pulling together what clothes I could find that would fit his new stature and tossed them at him. Even facing away from him I could tell he was a little taken aback. I’m sure in his current brain he couldn’t quite believe he was being rejected. But I knew it was better for everyone that he leave now. I scooped up his old clothing and threw it all into a tote. It wasn’t his fault he was here in this situation, getting kicked out of a stranger’s house early in the morning. Maybe that’s why I scribbled down my contact info and slipped it into the bag. He would have questions later, he deserved some answers. By now he had managed to put on the cut off tank and the shorts I had thrown him. The shorts were a size too small and left nothing to the imagination, but it would have to work. I doubted his canvas shoes would fit over those behemoths. He would have to go barefoot. After a few awkward pleasantries where he asked me if we should lift together some time and I politely declined, he finally got the message and slipped out the door. I locked it behind him and slumped to the floor. I still had a headache.
Tumblr media
It was going to be a long day. At this point I was awake, so I just decided to hit the shower. The steam helped clear my mind so I could try to piece the night together. It had been two years now and it was still happening. I wish I knew how to stop it. But looking back, I’m not sure what else I could have done. Every time it happened though, every time I saw his face, I just replayed that day again in my mind:
We were sitting at our favorite cafe when I broke the news.
“What do you mean? You’re breaking up with me?” my ex boyfriend was stunned. Truly, I don’t think this had ever happened to him before.
“Please don’t act surprised. We both knew this was coming. We aren’t good for each other.”
“Baby, we aren’t good for each other,” he cooed, leaning over and cupping my jaw, “We’re great together. You can’t pretend to deny it. I can feel that cock twitch, hear every moan when you’re inside me. Come on, let’s go home and I’ll bring you to your knees.”
“No. This isn’t about us in bed. This is everything outside of it. I don’t like how you talk to me, how you treat me, how you touch me,” I said, slapping his hand from my face, “and how you treat everyone in the world as your plaything. I just can’t put up with it anymore.”
That finally set him off, “Oh, you have no idea what I can do.” He snapped his fingers.
I watched as a man in a suit next to us dropped his book. He began to convulse, and I watched in horror. He reverted from his fifties to his late twenties in a moment, smoothing his wrinkles as his hair turned from silver to brown. His skin tightened around his swelling body, as his muscles easily ripped through his shirt and pants. A deep moan escaped his mouth as his clothes reformed themselves into a tank top and gym shorts. As a snap-back hat formed and tightened around his head, I grimaced, knowing that his mind was being assaulted with a new identity. I knew the look on his face well as drool flowed from his open mouth. Then, all at once it stopped. He just picked up his book and kept reading. No one else even seemed to notice what had taken place.
Tumblr media
It was a thinly veiled threat and we both knew it. “See? This is the shit I’m talking about. What happens to him now? He had nothing to do with this, you just can’t contain yourself.”
“Oh relax, he’s fine. I didn’t dumb him like I do to you. No one will ever remember anything different. Though I imagine whatever new hires at his firm will be confused why the new boss is a jacked gym bro while everyone else in the office is pushing 40 and wearing suits.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. I don’t ever want to see you again.” I gathered my things to make my exit.
He came round the table, in a far less joking mood, “You’ll regret that,” he grabbed at my groin and cupped my package, “from now on, whenever that gets going, I have a feeling you will be seeing a lot of me” I felt a stirring in my sack. Something had… shifted?
“What did you do?” my shouting had finally drawn the attention of onlookers.
“Good luck, baby. You ever want that resolved, you’ll have to find me.” With that, he turned heel and left.
Now, two years later, he was right. I had seen far too much of him. The water had gone cold. I turned the faucets off and stepped out to dry myself off.
Tumblr media
The first time had been a shock. I had given myself time to heal from the relationship, but about two months in I decided to head to a bar. Immediately something was off when I entered. I saw a few old flings, and a friend or two who were surprised to see me there. But it was like when I entered the whole place shifted towards me. Men were buying me drinks and fawning for my attention. The bartender even slipped a few comments in. They all looked smitten with me, trying to get just a little closer. By the end of the night I had some twink sitting in my lap. I decided it was time to blow off some steam. I took him to my place, where he immediately began tearing off my clothes inside the door. I managed to get him back to my bedroom before he had my boxers off. Immediately he buried his nose into my bush. Admittedly I hadn’t been keeping shaved since the breakup, and I guess that was doing it for him. He went to town on my cock. I wasn’t prepared for him to take it in one thrust, but he wasn’t waiting. All I could do was grab his hair and hold on as he worked my cock like a pro. I felt his hair curl beneath my fingers as I held on for the ride, moaning as he pushed all my buttons. He knew just when to pull back to keep me edging, his thick fingers holding on as he devoured my cock. Finally I knew I needed to fuck him. I pulled him off of my cock, but as he stood up and his dazed expression met mine I screamed.
Tumblr media
“Fuck baby, where have you been all of my life?” he said.
He was the spitting image of my ex. The hair, the muscle, even that stupid nickname. In shock I pushed him away as he gave me a look of confusion.
“What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again.”
He looked back at me confused, “What are you talking about? We just met like a few hours ago. You invited me over. Sorry.”
Something about the statement rang true. I only realized later it was because he apologized. My ex would never. “Did he put you up to this? What’s your name?”
“Hey, I’m not sure who you’re talking about, okay? I’m Justin. I was just looking for a good time.”
“Have you seen yourself? You don’t look like the twink I met at the bar.” I retorted
He looked in the mirror, and his face seemed to puzzle for a sec. I knew that look. He was trying to reconcile memories he had. Fake memories. Then he smirked, “Yeah, pretty hot right? I’ve been working out, getting that more twunk look going.”
So he was clueless then. It was weird seeing someone look so much like him, and have a mix of his mannerisms and others. He had certainly made sure his cockiness was implemented. The asshole.
“Look, I’m not sure tonight is going to work out. I need you out of here. Now.” That was a little mean, it wasn’t his fault. But he had to go. I gave him some of my ex’s clothes he had left lying around and pushed him out the door without saying goodnight. It was only next week when I went to the bar that I saw him again. He had seemingly gone back to normal, besides a very distinctive mustache and stubble he was growing now. It didn’t fit his thin, hairless body and it made me chuckle…
*BZZZZZT*
My phone was getting a call from an unknown number. I guess it was time to answer some questions:
-Hey, I found this number in my bag. This the guy from last night?
*Sigh*
-Yeah, it’s me. Are you, uh, feeling better? More… yourself?
-So I’m not crazy! What was that? What happened?
-I am so so so sorry. It’s a long story. Let’s just say my ex is… a looot.
-Well hey, who’s isn’t?
I chuckled
-You’re taking this surprisingly well. Most guys don’t want to look at me after all this.
-So this has happened before?
-Yes. But I promise I didn’t mean to. I must have gotten too drunk last night, and I know that’s not a good excuse. But I’m not sure what to do about it and at this point I’d starting to think I never will
-Woah, woah. Calm down. Would you want someone to come over? To talk to?
I paused.
-No, I think I’ll be fine.
-Please, I want to. I want answers and it seems like you need someone.
-I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Plus, I don’t think I can see you like that.
-I promise. I don’t think I have anything the same.
-Promise?
-Here, look
Tumblr media
He did look back to normal. And he was quite cute. I can see why drunk me decided to pick him…
-Still, I’m not sure…
-Nope, it’s decided. I know the address, I’ll be there later tonight around 6. *click*
What had just happened? I think, against all odds, I just got roped into a second date.
Tumblr media
God damn it.
502 notes · View notes
seiwas · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
₊˚⊹。if you're ready (let me) | gojo satoru
Tumblr media
wc: 1.3k
summary: you find the other thing to surprise gojo with on his birthday. 
contains: f!reader, 18+ nsfw, reader is in lingerie, lead up to cunnilingulus (mentions pussy once)
a/n: a follow-up to the col lingerie fic, ‘take my time (i’ll spend it all on you)’, might be one of the more explicit ones i’ve written (which i don’t write often! so please be kind!); title inspired by ‘if you let me - alina baraz’; happy birthday to our boy ♡!!
collection masterlist: conversations on love +04a (extra). take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) <- you are here -> 04. these traces of love, they outline you
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Tumblr media
There are few things that come to mind when you think about what to get Gojo for his birthday: 
A couple of his favorite sweets (predictable and too frequent—he just bought a box of them last week); something customized and redesigned, maybe his blindfold? (which, you backtrack to realize, you had already gifted him for his 21st birthday years ago); answered prayers—requests that he continuously and ‘jokingly’ hints at (which, you also realize—he’s only really whined about two). 
Two requests, with one he’s already walked in on months ago, spoiling your what-would-have-been birthday gift. 
So, this leaves you with the other one—
The only other request. A repeat of something you did by accident more than a decade ago. 
Except, now, on purpose, you know that Gojo’s asking for something entirely different, far from innocent. 
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you bite the inside of your cheek. You hold it—
One.
The lace on the hem of your bra cups tickles your ribcage—it’s softer, but far more embellished than the pink one you’ve been (over)using. A gift from Gojo (“just a little something,” he said, handing it over to you one morning). 
Two.
You rub your thighs together, white suspender straps gliding against your skin; the metal attachments on the lace garters pull taut, holding them in place. 
Three. 
Goosebumps litter your arms, little dots surfacing; it’s hard not to feel nervous when you know what awaits you—your heartbeat racing.
When you open your eyes as you exhale, breath shaky and vision a little hazy, you focus on Gojo—sitting on the floor, back slouched against his couch with an impossibly handsome smirk on his mouth. His lips are upturned, pink and curled at the corner, but bitten, just the lower bit.  
You lock eyes, sleet white framing a darkening blue sky. 
Something stirs in your belly when he shifts in his seat, the sleeves of his shirt tightening as he rests his arms wide open on luxurious gray cotton—an invite towards him.
An invite to—
“Maybe you should sit on my face again.” 
The memory makes your face burn. 
You slipped the first time it happened, tripping backwards over Tsumiki’s books stacked up on the floor. At 20, you were far from rusty, reflexes quick as you caught hold of the edge of the couch—the couch that Gojo also happened to be napping on. 
There was an attempt: to balance yourself, only for your body to sink, gravity acting against your control. So, you landed right there, buttcheek covered by the fabric of your skirt, sitting straight on Gojo’s nose. 
That incident had buried itself so deep inside your mind you were confident Gojo would never bring it up again unless you did. 
But, of course he does, and when you least expect it too—by the counter of a gelato store, licking the dessert on hand while waiting for the cashier to punch the cost in.
And when he wets his lips now, a glimpse of pink swiping over his skin quickly, almost discreetly, you’re reminded of the same feeling you had back then—
—heated up, nervous; shy. 
You move closer, his eyes straying lower, going over the pretty white number you have on; the one he got you. 
And you wonder, if there’s vanity in the hunger he’s regarding you with, how what you’re wearing reminds you so much of him: white as the strands that fall into his eyes, playful but delicate at the same time.
The lace details on this set are more intricate, outlined with iridescent gray—an almost silver that shines blue when light hits; with sheer net as the base fabric, floral appliqués are carefully positioned on the bra and panty fronts, supported by ribbings that go down to the hem. 
It’s a full-set, garters with the suspender belt and everything. Sexy but still soft—just what he likes.
And you’d be a lot less embarrassed walking up to him now if it weren’t for the single, most nerve-wracking anticipation: that you’ll be sitting on his face, for real, later. and maybe from now on.
He pats his lap, motioning for you to settle on it. 
Your knees buckle under you when you reach him, holding onto his shoulders as you go down. And when you settle on his lap, straddling him, he reaches for your bra straps, pulling it off to the side.
The kisses he lands on each of your shoulders are soft, but his lips lay plump against your skin—a faint ‘smack’ sounding with each one. Your breath hitches when he goes lower, lightly sucking on the skin of your chest. It’s not enough to bruise, not yet, but a tightening in your stomach tells you you want it to.
He’s trying to get you to relax, you know—with how he’s gripping your hips, rubbing circles onto the skin underneath his fingertips.
When his mouth crawls up your neck, licking, you throw your head back—a sharp intake of breath as you release it heavily. Your fingers rake through his undercut, grasping onto fists of white. Then you shiver, gasping as trembles ripple through you when his lips glide past your ears.
“Toru,” 
He pulls away, blinking at you, half-lidded; you blink back twice. 
“You ready?” his eyes search for yours, your chin perched between his thumb and index finger—he tilts you to him.
The smile on his face is teasing, but gentle. And if you say no because you’re too nervous, you know he won’t force you. 
(Even if the hardness in his sweatpants is pressing intently against you).  
You try to shake off the nerves, nodding your head as you take in another breath, preparing to push yourself up by his shoulders.  
It’s odd to think about how he used to feel what you do right now; how he used to be led, guided—reassured; how he’s doing what you do when you try to get him to calm down. 
“We won’t do this if you don’t want to,” he bends his knees up, letting you lean on it as he cages you in. 
But that’s the thing, you do want to—you’re just failing to see how this can be more for him than it is for you. That, and what if you get the position wrong? Can’t balance yourself properly? Lean into him too much and knock him out completely? 
“I do, it’s just…” you sigh, running your palms over his chest. You fail to meet his eyes. 
“If you’re shy now, I’ve seen it all before. And I always tell you, you taste de—” 
You hit him before you catch how he’s watching you, chuckling—tender and knowing. He takes your hand, kissing each of your fingertips. 
The fact that he’s being this patient, this considerate on what you want is a testament to his restraint; he has to know that you want this too, if the wet spot on his sweatpants is any indication from you. 
So, you peer back at him, smile growing wide before landing a small peck to the tip of his nose. 
He guides you when you stand, lips grazing your thighs as you let him pass through them. Then he leans back, neck supported by the edge of the couch as he tilts his head up. The moment your knees press into the cushion, dipping as you climb over him, he holds your ankles. 
It tickles when he kisses his way down to the arches of your feet, but it’s a nice companion—a temporary relief—to the heat rising in your belly.
You hold on to the back of the couch, readjusting your knees as you find the right position to sit back down. And when you figure it out, angling yourself until you’re settled right over him—the heat of you is pulsing. 
He looks dazed between your legs, staring straight into you—the see-through net hiding absolutely nothing. Pussy-whipped, as they say. 
You giggle as you stare down at his face, anticipation rushing to your cheeks; it shakes him out of his reverie, prompting him to look at you instead. His breaths are warm against your thighs but cool against your core, and when he trails his lips higher and higher until he reaches it, landing a kiss on the fabric separating you, you think your knees might give out. 
The sight of Gojo smirking while being sat on stirs something within you—the creeping realization of how much it turns you on. 
And he can tell, grabbing hold of your butt and squeezing the flesh, kneading. The fabric separating you is pushed to the side, giving him a clearer view of everything; he sighs then moans, low. 
But before he pushes you down, bringing you closer to his mouth, he smiles cheekily. 
“Best birthday gift, baby.” 
Tumblr media
thank you notes: to @stellamancer bc the idea of col reader sitting on gojo's face came up in convo some time ago!! + @augustinewrites for supporting and enabling me ♡
Tumblr media
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
515 notes · View notes
just-wrting · 6 months
Text
Secret Admirer
Title: Secret Admirer
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.
Word Count: 1721
Master List
A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.
You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.
Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?
“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”
She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.
“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.
“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”
“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”
At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.
“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”
Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.
“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”
Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”
You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”
Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.
—-
“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.
You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.
“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”
Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”
You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?
“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.
You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”
You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.
“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”
He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”
“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”
“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”
—-
You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.
“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.
She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”
You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”
With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”
You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.
“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”
J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”
“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”
J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.
—-
After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.
You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.
“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”
As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.
The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.
“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”
She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”
You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”
Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”
You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just  leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.
Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.
“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”
You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”
You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”
Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.
“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”
He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”
You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”
You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.
“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”
This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.
“What if I am?”
You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.
“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”
Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.
“You’re more my type than you realize.”
“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”
Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.
“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”
Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
516 notes · View notes
daisybell17 · 4 months
Text
Why do you love me? — Loki
Tumblr media
“Why do you love me?” It came out of nowhere. You and Loki were just enjoying the silence of the night in your shared bed.
Looking up from the book in his hands, Loki’s eyebrows pressed together, a much more concerned look displayed the features of his face and his eyes locked onto yours…”What?”
“Why do you love me?” You repeated, eyes tearing up and that familiar pang in your throat rising
“Why do I love you? Because you’re…you?”
“What about me screams “I love you with all my heart!”?”
Loki chuckled and put his book away “Love I love you because you’re you. It’s that simple. I love every aspect of you, even the flaws you claim you have…I love…”
You started sobbing…
“Hey hey…Love what’s wrong?”
“Just…i don’t know…life? memories? everything? I feel like an idiot” You had admitted, letting your true feelings out
“You’re not an idiot for feeling…it’s being human…” He places his arms around your body, allowing you to rest your head against his chest as he rubbed his hand up and down your arm and back
“I’m sorry…i know i ask so many stupid questions, but sometimes i really wonder why you love me…”
“You’re not stupid and don’t apologise please…I love you…you’re the most precious being I have had the honour to know…the fact you even entertained me in the first place is nothing short but a miracle…”
You looked up at him with a small smile plastering your face as tears continued to roll down your cheeks
“I know your mind makes you think all the bad thoughts…but my darling I will remind you today and for the rest of our lives that you are worthy, deserving and absolutely made for love…and i will fight anyone who says otherwise, even your own mind…
You buried your face into his chest as he continued to spoil you with sweet nothings
“and to answer your question again my darling…I love you…for you…kiss…for your heart…kiss…for your soul…kiss…your passion and drive…kiss…the strength you carry…kiss… the kindness you spread…kiss…and so…kiss…much…kiss…more…kiss…”
“thank you…for choosing me…” You murmured
“darling…i would choose you over and over again…you were never an option, you were always the only option”
You nuzzled against his neck and he lifted your chin, bringing your lips to his
——————————————————————————
(a/n): i just wanted to write something sweet 🥹 i need a hug from loki tbh
288 notes · View notes
daddy-suguru · 1 year
Text
𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 ❥ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs | light somnophilia, hints at the night before, cock-warming, teasing, fucking you even though your trying to talk to satoru on the other side of the door, praise
Suguru is still inside of you. Throbbing, when you clench around him you can feel his pulse in every fat vein. While his large head rubbed your cervix, you never knew a man could reach so deep. Or that you could ache so sweetly.
Hazy memories of last night's activities flood your mind. The sweet mixed drinks you mixed, and the fat blunts he rolled. Along with the slow music from one of Suguru's many chill playlists.
Then there were Suguru's large hands, his lips on your neck, and his soft hair between your fingers. Followed by your legs over his shoulders, clawing his backside up. While his heavy raspy groans and the face he makes when he cummed deep inside of you.
Sliding Suguru's cock out of you, his fat tip parting your wet lips. His grasp on your hips tightens while Suguru grumbles, "Nnno!" Pulling you flush against his body, slipping deep into you.
Rolling you onto your stomach, pinning your body to the bed beneath him. His long dark hair falls forward onto the pillow, blocking your view of his bookcase. Sliding your hand into his hair, holding as much of it as you can.
Begging, "Don't stop, nng fuck I'm, I'm nngh!" With every slow roll of Suguru's hips, his heavy cock drags along your sweet spot. Stroking the tension in your gut thicker as you muffle your groan with his pillow.
Suguru slides his fingers through yours while pointing out. "But weren't you just pulling away? Maybe I should stop." He pulls out, lifting his body off your's causing you to let go of his hair. Which tickles your back before he runs his hands through his hair. Pulling it back over his shoulder, only for it to fall forward moments later.
His cock's heavy, large tip hits your lips. Pushing your hips back, trying to push him inside while his cock slides down to your clit. Slipping between your slicked-up thighs. As you whine,
"I was just thirsty, I was going to come back for some more cuddles!" Suguru chuckles folding both of your arms behind your back. While pulling his body off yours you plead,
"Ok I believe you, sweetheart. You're so clingy. If it wasn't for you being able to get cuddles from either one of us, I'm sure your pretty self would wither away." Missing the warmth of his throbbing cock.
Suguru pulls your ass up in the air, spreading your legs apart. While lining himself up as you hear, "Sug don't chew my head off, I'm getting strawberry pancakes from Sweet Mary's. Do you want anything?" Burying into the pillow to muffle back your groans while Suguru slowly nudges himself past.
Pulling your face out of the pillow by the hold he has on your wists. Causing you to bite into your bottom lip holding back your moans. You can hear the smirk in Suguru's voice as he responds,
"Usual for me, and our beautiful princess is in here with me." If Satoru opens the door now, he'll see Suguru's marked-up, muscular backside. Along with Suguru's thick ass, with your calves next to Suguru's knees. While you are bent over in front of him. Taking his cock while your slick drips down your thighs and his balls.
Attempting to gather yourself as Suguru's deep slow strokes make it challenging to answer Satoru's question, "What are you wanting after you're done waking up and snuggling?" You can't think of anything on the menu. As Suguru leans over your body, softly kissing your shoulder.
Suguru reaches between your legs stroking your clit while you all but moan, "Surprise meeee!" Changing it into a needy grumpy whine. While you hear Satoru chastises,
"So grumpy, it's not even that early in the morning. You must be hangry, poor Sug trapped in there with you." You hear his keys jingling, getting further away as Satoru walks off. While you fight the urge to moan as Suguru picks up his pace getting harder with each quick stroke.
If Satoru is anywhere near, he's hearing Suguru's bed creaking and his headboard thumping against his dark blue wall. Along with your loud moans, since you can't hold them back anymore.
Suguru's loud, heavy groans mix with each loud squelching stroke followed by the slap of his balls hitting your clit. It's too much, and when he leans over, teasing you, "You got tighter around me hearing him. Did you want him to open up the door and join us? He could slip his handsome cock inside your soft pretty little princess pussy with mine." Your gushing on his cock.
m.list
2K notes · View notes
carfuckerlynch · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[transcript: 1. “god is fucking with my oblivion. if he wants forgiveness, he shouldn’t have given us memory.”
2. “your god comes and he is ordinary and terrible. he confers with the doctors at your kitchen table and tells you to eat….”
3. “our father who art in heaven. our father who art buried in the yard.”
4. “at the trial of god, we will ask: ‘why did you allow all this?’ and the answer will be an echo: ‘why did you allow all this?’”
5. “i don’t believe in god as much as i believe in the interrogation room. i believe in someone placing a loaded gun on a metal table between me and a door. who gets to be god then? will god be the bullet or the table or the door.”
6. “every spy knows this. some say god is where we put our sorrow. god says, which one of you fuckers can get to me first?”/end transcript.]
vi khi nao— fish in exile/leila chatti— portrait of the illness as nightmare/richard siken— snow and dirty rain/ilya kaminsky— a city like a guillotine shivers on its way to the neck/hanif abdurraqib— all the tv shows are about cops/richard siken— war of the foxes
4K notes · View notes
storiesbyrhi · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
In progress series Total word count: 77,841 thus far Witch!reader x bat/vampire!Eddie Munson
No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople's wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?
Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, horror genre typical violence/infrequent gore, death/dying, animal death, suicide, abusive parents, death in childbirth (mentioned - not described), spiders/bug, no beta, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.
Extras: From 1586 to 1986 - our story's timeline The Grimoire - all the magical references ^updated with each chapter Book cover art Eddie art
Chapters:
one: Eptesicus fuscus 2809 words A voice calls to you.
two: From sickness a reprieve 3443 words There are many different ways to heal.
three: A drop of witch's blood 2755 words When is a man, not a man?
four: Deserving of hex or death 3371 words An ye harm none, do what ye will.
five: A gateway to the woods 2562 words In honour and love.
six: To symbolise atonement and reconciliation 2714 words Death and transformation, or: how to unhex.
seven: I wasn't your burden to bear 2740 words Bury a candle and give allegiance.
eight: Lux solis urere hic malum 3051 words Death is here.
nine: That's the real monster 2962 words What is expected of us?
ten: This is holy work 2909 words Violence comes twofold.
eleven: A carnal fight of bodies 3046 words A witch will not fight alone.
twelve: I remember destruction 2777 words The timeline narrows and questions begin to find answers. 
thirteen: A question of morality 2882 words Warning... answers may lead to endings.
fourteen: The natural laws of magic and earth 3294 words We are our memories.
fifteen: Fade to black 3170 words Before death.
sixteen: Everything all at once 3515 words Liminal spaces.
seventeen: Where there is death 3668 words We speak to those beyond.
eighteen: A ghost in the memory 2552 words Magic for magic.
nineteen: Love and be loved 2292 words It's time to wake up.
twenty: Slit the throat of fear 3635 words A non-linear and incomplete series of vignettes.
twenty one: Your defense is me 2590 words Looming doom.
twenty two: I will not survive you 2918 words It's time for a family reunion.
twenty three: Our mutineer fate 3390 words In coven we trust.
twenty four: Come pleading for absolution 3124 words Pulling strings and aura reading. 
twenty five: Continue to delight me 2738 words Homeward bound.
twenty six: No new monsters 2994 words Life goes on.
twenty seven:
twenty eight:
twenty nine:
thirty:
thirty one:
849 notes · View notes
ajortga · 17 days
Text
the warmth of your hand
pairing: cairo sweet x fem reader
summary: tender kisses with the crisp cold of a sunset winter night, you and cairo go ice skating, another sweet memory being made.
word count: 1.9k+
Tumblr media
Where the long lasting snow falls from the sky ever so gently,
The hushed whispers of words of the wind that blows in your hair when I brush it through my fingers.
Forever winter,
The cold that answers my prayers and tints your cheeks pink,
So I that you can ask for my warmth and comfort,
While I envelope you in a love that’ll keep you so safe, pressing my lips against your snow-fallen cheeks..
“Cairo!” you call out, your voice a soft melody as it rings through the coldness of the snow, and to the small creek that leads to the window of her room. Cairo’s ears perk as she places down her pen and swipes her thin hands over her journal filled with poetic beauty, the ink slightly smearing and leaving its mark.
She closes her notes filled with poetry of you, using the clip of her pen to grasp onto the book’s handle and wraps it in the band that keeps it together. 
“I’m coming love!” Cairo says, her voice growing a bit louder so you can hear her from outside. She didn’t want you to wait outside for long as she rolls out of bed and opens her closet, grabbing a pair of mittens, earmuffs, and wrapping a scarf around the nape of her neck. She flings her bedroom door open and swings down the hallway, opening the door to be greeted by your figure. 
You had your headphones hung around your neck, earmuffs in and your hair curled beautifully down. It took your girlfriend's breath away as she smiled at you. Your soft eyes met hers and she squealed, making you giggle. Your breath warmed up the cold air around you, a breath trying to warm it up, a sigh that is visible to one who sees it, your breath fogging in the cold winter air as it travels and dissipates. 
It’s like her writing when it comes to life. Of course it would come to life, all her writings are about you, your love, your beauty, you. Where the cold answers her prayers and tints your cheeks pink. It makes Cairo’s lips curve into a warm smile to see the way you look adorable, with your scarf covering your chin and you waddle up to her like a penguin. 
“G’morning..” you say, a small sniffle following in suit. 
“Hi baby,” Cairo whispers, ruffling your hair and scratching your scalp gently. She nuzzles your nose, having to bend down to press her nose to yours and giving your lips a kiss. Her lips are warm, soft, your lips are pouty, sweet. 
Before you can pull away and feel the eternal warmth of her lips again, her arms wrap around you and slide down to your waist. You feel her lift you up as a cheeky grin forms on your face, spinning around in her arms and making a small childish squeal like it’s Christmas day. Cairo grins, feeling your nimble hands brush the invading bangs away from her forehead.
“I missed you. And it’s cold,” you murmur, your hot breath purposely blowing against her face, causing a contagious laugh to sound from her. 
She feels the way your legs lift to wrap around her waist as she carries you, her nose pressed into your shoulder as your face buries into her neck.
“You are cold,” she states, “But that’s okay, we have plenty of time to cuddle and warm up before we go on our date in the evening, cmon.” 
She opens the door to her house and shuts it with her foot, you two kissing and making out along the way, lovely mumbles being made between each.
“I missed you.”
Kiss.
“I love you,” 
Seal that promise with another kiss.
You nestle your nose to the home of her neck as she carries you to her bed that is invaded by the sweet vanilla smell of her. You squeak as she pulls away from your lips, you press another greedy kiss to her lips again before she swings you back and forth.
“Here comes the airplane!”
“Cairo.. Cairo! CairOoOOOOOO!” you shriek as she throws you on her bed and comes right after, jumping on you and hugging you. You giggle from her funniness before feeling her fingertips wiggle against your stomach, tickling you.
“No! Stop!” You belly laugh, your body squirming under her as she tickles and tickles.
“Tell me you love meee.”
You can’t breathe from all the laughing as you snort and giggle, squeaking in between.
Your giggle is so cute, she thinks.
“Noo!! Okay yes I love you!” you squeal as you surrender your hands to say that you give up.
“I know,” she says softly, letting you scoot into her embrace. “I just wanted to find a way to warm you up a little.” 
It worked a little. You tell that to her, giving her another reason to let you rest against her body, like a puppy wanting their mothers warmth. You kiss her neck, nuzzling it with your nose as she kisses your forehead with a loving remark.
You spend the rest of the morning cuddling while resting in Cairo’s arms. She puts you to sleep by whispering her poems about you into your ear. The warmth of her breath against the shell of your ear makes you fall asleep faster. She notices the way your eyes flutter and twitches that you're fast asleep. You don’t know how she does it, you already got enough sleep but she always finds a way to make you sleepy again, even with the most amount of caffeine you may have had. From 9 to 11 you’re in a deep sleep with her sweet gentle whispers.
From 12-3 you and Cairo spend time cooking together. Boiling water and pouring some noodles in. After making your alfredo with garlic bread, anybody would die to look through the window and live your love life, your eyes looking into each other as you feed each other. Your fork reaches her mouth as she captures it with her lips and eats, she feeds you and wipes some of the sauce off your smooth chin.
From 4-5 you two get ready for ice skating, it was going to snow tonight. It’s like a rom-com movie and you would die to live in that with Cairo, sharing kisses near the campfire. Maybe more. Holding hands while you sleep and curl to each other. You cling on and your legs wrapped around her body as others look at you in pure awe.
You slip on a puffy white jacket above your top and put on some flared jeans, topping it off with some earmuffs that you may or may not have stolen when Cairo was changing. 
“I saw that.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Give me those back.”
“Cairo.”
“Y/N.”
“Do you not love me?” You say, looking like you were about to cry. You loved when you could fake cry. Guess acting classes really did benefit you besides doing theater. 
She sees your trembling lips and teary eyes and immediately she gives up. Coming to hug you and pressing her lips to your forehead. 
“Okay shh. You can wear them. Or keep them because I love you, okay?” She coos, voice coaxing you as a childish giggle erupts from your chest.
“Yay!”
You hug her and she lifts you up, kissing you softly, “Come on princess,” your legs wrap around her as she grabs her key and unlocks the door, walking to the ice skating rink not too far from her house.
-
After a few minutes of walking and giving gentle, loving kisses, she places you down on the floor, caressing your cheek.
“Okay love bug, let’s go ice skating, okay?” 
You nuzzle her neck, intertwining your hand with hers as you swing them up and down, giggling along the way. You sit next to her, snuggled up while you put on your ice skates. 
“Your nose is all red honey.”
You sniffle, letting her touch her nose with yours, feeling her scarf wrap around her neck when she lifts you up
Yours and Cairo’s feet were going to touch the rink as she examines the glossy ice, “It looks a little slippery, be careful, I can guide you-”
Before she could finish you giggled and skated on the ice, doing a small spin.
“Be careful!” she squeals, letting you drag her hand onto the rink as she clings onto you for support. She screams as her legs shake, begging you to start on the edge. Cairo was gripping onto the edge for dear life as you assured her, kissing her neck with love.
The sun was setting, you two were skating while holding hands. It was beautiful as you were cuddled up to her while she wobbled. She got the hang of it as you guys skated faster among all the other sweet couples.
“I think we look the cutest,” you whisper, looking up at her and playing with the twist of her hair.
“Oh really? I know we look the best baby. You’re making everyone jealous of me to be with a girl like you.”
A blush creeps up on your cheek as you smack her playfully, “That’s not true.”
“Well everyone else probably would kill to have a girl like you.”
“But I only have eyes for you. You are the prettiest, sweetest, kindest, most lovingest girl I’ve ever known.”
Now it’s Cairo’s turn to blush, it caught her so off guard that she lost balance and slipped, taking you down with her as you two yelped. You landed on top of Cairo as you laughed.
“See, you know it’s trueeee.”
“No!”
“Maybe they’re just jealous of us, they want what we have because we never fight unless it’s to prove the other person’s personality Cairo.”
The curled hair brunette lifts you up and you two continue skating.
-
After a few hours of skating and tenderness, the sun greeted the moon as its sweet warmth faded. The twinkling lights above the rink glistened against the ice.
“That was fun, huh baby?”
“I loved it more because it was with you.” 
Cairo giggles, your smile never fading as you two leave the ice rink. She helps untie your skates and gives your hand a little kiss before taking hers off.
You spend the rest of the night getting street food and sharing it with each other. Your hands never tear away from each other as you hug her while walking around the bustling city.
When you drop her off it’s like a scene from a romance movie that makes you kick your legs.
“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your hands holding on hers as she looks down from you, one stair up to her house.
“We should do that again.”
“And again,” you say, your cheeks scrunching in a small smile as she nods.
There’s a comforting silence, a soft cool breeze blowing through your hair as she looks down at you from her step.
“Goodnight Y/N.”
“Goodnight Cairo,” you whisper, before leaning on your tippy toes to reach her lips. You kiss her softly before pulling away.
"Call me when you're safe cariño."
You keep kissing her, until you turn to leave. You were a few feet away from her after taking small steps as she watched you walk to your car on her driveway before turning around.
“Actually.. Can I stay the night here and cuddle?” you whisper, looking like a precious puppy with those eyes.
Cairo knew she couldn’t say no, she would do anything to spend time with you as she smiles widely, nodding. 
You waddle up to her in happiness before jumping in her arms and kissing her again, making a small squeal as she giggles and carries you back into the comfort of her home.
338 notes · View notes
thedensworld · 7 days
Text
Rewind Button | J.Ww
Tumblr media
Pairing: Wonwoo x reader
Genre: angst, time travel, bestfriend
Summary: If Wonwoo had a time machine, he would definitely go to crash your wedding.
Warning: mention of arranged marriage, sexual abused, suicidal activity, depression.
TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY! COMMENT YOUR WISH FOR ME HEHE🙈🙈
***
Wonwoo stirred from his sleep, disoriented and bewildered by his unfamiliar surroundings. He glanced around, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains of his old apartment studio. Confusion clouded his mind as he realized he should be gearing up for an action scene shoot in just ten minutes, yet here he was, inexplicably back in his past.
Memories flooded back as he recalled the sensation of being in his car, the soft melodies of music playing in the background. But why was he here now?
Before he could fully process his confusion, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the silence, jolting him from his thoughts. With trembling hands, he reached for the device, his heart pounding with trepidation as he saw the caller ID: Mingyu.
It had been nearly five years since they last spoke, and the sudden call from his old friend only added to the surrealness of the moment. Wonwoo's mind raced with questions, his emotions a turbulent whirlwind as he hesitated before answering, unsure of what awaited him on the other end of the line.
"Hello," Wonwoo's hoarse voice greeted Mingyu, his mind still reeling from the surreal experience of being transported back in time.
A rush of urgency flooded through the phone line, Mingyu's voice filled with frantic energy. "Hyung! Where are you?! The ceremony will start in 2 hours!"
Wonwoo blinked in disbelief as memories of this very conversation, this same heated exchange with Mingyu, flooded his mind. It was a moment from the past, long gone, yet here he was, reliving it once again. Why was he experiencing this déjà vu?
"Hold on, Mingyu," Wonwoo managed to utter, struggling to process the situation unfolding before him.
"Hyung! Are you listening to me?" Mingyu's voice cut through Wonwoo's thoughts, pulling him back to the present moment.
"I'll be there," Wonwoo murmured softly before ending the call, his mind swirling with confusion and disbelief. As he hung up, a sense of unease settled over him, leaving him grappling with the inexplicable phenomenon that had just occurred.
As Wonwoo's mind raced, replaying the moments leading up to his unexpected reunion with you, his heart pounded with a mixture of apprehension and longing. He wasn't accustomed to making requests or wishing for things, always content to be the grateful, considerate person others admired. But tonight, as he lay in bed, his silent plea had been answered, thrusting him into a whirlwind of emotions.
Meeting you again after five long years, on the set of his latest film where you were cast as a cameo, had ignited a torrent of memories and regrets within him. The scene played out in his mind like a haunting film, your presence stirring feelings he had buried deep within himself.
As you both discussed the upcoming scene, the unspoken tension between you hung heavy in the air, overshadowing the easy camaraderie you once shared. Wonwoo couldn't help but notice the bruises hidden beneath your hair and sleeves, a stark contrast to the vibrant spirit he remembered from your past encounters.
When he finally mustered the courage to approach you in private, your first question pierced through his defenses like a dagger to the heart. "Why didn't you come to my wedding?" you asked, your voice calm but laden with disappointment.
Wonwoo was rendered speechless, his throat constricting with guilt and regret. He had never prepared himself for this moment, never anticipated facing you again under such circumstances.
"I read your letter, and I was so disappointed you didn't come," you continued, mentioning the drunken confession he had penned before your wedding day, a stupid letter.
"Mingyu too, he felt the same about our friendship," you added, invoking the name of their mutual friend.
Unable to meet your gaze, Wonwoo could only mutter a feeble apology, his fingers fidgeting nervously.
But when you rolled up your sleeves, revealing the bruises marring your skin, his heart shattered into a million pieces. He longed to reach out, to offer comfort and solace, but fear held him back, afraid that even the slightest touch would break you further.
"Did Mingyu know about this?" Wonwoo finally managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded solemnly, confirming his worst fears. "But he couldn't do anything," you confessed, your words heavy with resignation.
Silence enveloped them both as Wonwoo struggled to process the weight of your words, the guilt and helplessness threatening to suffocate him.
"I was waiting for you," you whispered, the memory of your wedding day haunting your expression. "Since you promised."
Your laughter, tinged with bitterness, echoed in the cramped confines of the van, and Wonwoo felt his heart shatter all over again. "But you never came."
*
Wonwoo, dressed in his usual attire, rushed to the venue of your wedding ceremony, his mind spinning with confusion and urgency. Was this all just a dream, or had he truly been thrown back in time as he had desperately wished for earlier?
Mingyu's surprise was evident as he greeted Wonwoo, his eyes scanning his friend's unconventional choice of outfit – a black hoodie and baggy faded denim pants. Wonwoo's appearance, fresh only from a quick face wash, stood in stark contrast to the formal attire expected for such an occasion.
"Why are you dressed like this? Today is a special day!" Mingyu exclaimed, his concern evident in his voice as he pulled Wonwoo aside, shielding him from prying eyes.
Wonwoo blinked rapidly, unsure of how to explain his sudden appearance and disheveled state. If he were to tell Mingyu the truth – that he had traveled from the future to prevent you from suffering in an abusive marriage – he knew his friend would dismiss it as absurd.
"I need to meet Y/n," Wonwoo replied impatiently, his sense of urgency overriding any concern for social norms or propriety.
Mingyu furrowed his brows, his hand resting reassuringly on Wonwoo's shoulder. "We talked about this, man. You said you'd give up on her."
Wonwoo's heart clenched at the memory of his previous conversation with Mingyu, where he had resigned himself to letting you go. "Yeah, I know," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.
"But I changed my mind. I can't let her go," Wonwoo confessed, his determination shining through despite the obstacles ahead.
Mingyu sighed, realizing the gravity of Wonwoo's intentions. "Isn't it too late? You know her husband is someone with power," he cautioned, his concern for both Wonwoo and you evident in his words.
"I promised her that I'd come today, help her cancel the wedding," Wonwoo explained earnestly, his gaze unwavering as he met Mingyu's widened eyes.
"No way! You know what would happen to both of you," Mingyu protested vehemently, his concern for their reputations and public image overriding any sense of recklessness.
Wonwoo took a deep breath, steeling himself before dropping a bombshell on Kim Mingyu. "She's pregnant with mine," he stated firmly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
Mingyu gasped in disbelief, his eyes widening in shock. "What?!" he exclaimed, unable to comprehend the gravity of Wonwoo's revelation.
Wonwoo nodded, his expression solemn as he tried to convey the truth of his words to Mingyu. "I'll explain everything later, but right now, I need to meet her," he insisted, his voice tinged with urgency and determination.
As the weight of Wonwoo's revelation sank in, Mingyu could only nod in reluctant understanding, realizing that his friend's resolve was unshakeable. Together, they stood on the precipice of a decision that could change the course of your lives forever.
*
"When he found out i was pregnant with other man, he practically almost murdering me everyday. He made sure that i was suffering and i ended up losing the baby. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you poured out the painful truth, revealing for the first time to Wonwoo that you had been carrying his child. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, each syllable laden with the agony of your suffering.
Wonwoo held you tightly in his embrace, his heart breaking as he realized the extent of your torment. Guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, a relentless onslaught of remorse for his past actions. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the weight of his cowardice – the cowardice that had cost him your love and the life of his own child.
In that moment, he saw himself for what he truly was: a coward who had let fear dictate his every move. He had been too afraid to pursue a relationship with you, convinced that you were too perfect, too good for someone like him. And in his cowardice, he had stood by while you suffered unimaginable horrors at the hands of your husband.
As you spoke of the threats and abuse you endured, Wonwoo's heart shattered into a million pieces. The thought of you enduring such torment while he remained silent filled him with a profound sense of shame and regret.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I should have protected you. I should have been there for you."
But your confession only deepened his anguish, as you revealed the depths of your despair. "But I'm so tired," you admitted, your voice trembling with exhaustion. "Every day feels like hell, and I just want to die."
Wonwoo's heart clenched at your words, the pain in your voice echoing the turmoil in his soul. He vowed in that moment to do whatever it took to save you, to break free from the shackles of his own cowardice and finally stand by your side. For he knew now, more than ever, that he could not bear to lose you again.
A week later, news of your attempted suicide rocked Wonwoo to his core. As he stood in the hospital corridor, waiting anxiously for any update on your condition, the weight of his guilt threatened to crush him. The letter found at the scene revealed the depths of your suffering, documenting the abuse you endured at the hands of your husband.
Finally, after five long years, Wonwoo came face to face with Mingyu in the hospital aisle. Mingyu's eyes held a silent accusation, and Wonwoo couldn't bring himself to meet his friend's gaze. He bowed his head in shame, unable to deny the wrongs he had committed.
But to Wonwoo's surprise, Mingyu's arms enveloped him in a tight embrace, his own tears mingling with Wonwoo's. "Hyung... She'll be alright, right?" Mingyu choked out between sobs, his voice thick with worry and fear.
Wonwoo wished desperately that he could offer Mingyu reassurance, to tell him that you would indeed be alright. But the truth weighed heavily on his conscience, threatening to suffocate him. He longed to confess that everything that had transpired was just a dream, that you were safe and alive, and that you belonged to him. But his fear held him back, sealing his lips shut once again.
As the situation began to calm, Mingyu turned to Wonwoo, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Did she tell you?" he asked, his voice tinged with resignation.
Wonwoo nodded silently, his heart heavy with remorse.
Mingyu sighed, his gaze drifting towards the room where you were being tended to by medical staff. "I just hope that asshole didn't use his money to free himself," he growled in anger, his fists clenched in frustration at the thought of your abusive husband escaping justice.
"For these five years, she's suffered a lot," Mingyu continued, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I want to help her, but there's nothing I can do besides offering emotional support."
He paused, his expression pained as he revealed the truth behind your intentions to reconnect with Wonwoo. "She told me that she was going to meet you for a shoot. She actually just wanted to be friends again. There was no intention of telling you the whole situation. But I forced her."
Mingyu's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of Wonwoo's actions and the pain he had caused. As he listened to his friend's words, Wonwoo felt a surge of remorse wash over him, knowing that he had hurt not only you but also those who cared for you deeply.
*
Mingyu accompanied Wonwoo as they approached your room, his hand gesturing for Wonwoo to enter and have a conversation with you. Wonwoo, visibly nervous, stepped into the room, scanning the space until his eyes fell upon you sitting on the couch. However, instead of your usual charm and charisma, he noticed a subdued air about you. Nevertheless, your face lit up when you saw him, and you rose from your seat.
As Wonwoo rushed towards you, pulling you into his embrace, you felt a mix of surprise and comfort flood through you. "Let's take you out of here," he whispered urgently, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze.
Your eyes widened, a hint of fear flickering across them. "But I can't," you protested, your voice trembling. "He's not just a random person, Wonwoo! He would sue us."
Wonwoo shook his head, determination etched into his features. "We confront him," he insisted, his voice firm yet reassuring. "And tell him the truth." His words carried a sense of resolve, offering you a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.
Tears welled up in your eyes, reflecting the turmoil within you. "But what about our careers?" you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "We're going to be doomed after this... Think about yourself, Wonwoo!" You pleaded, trying to shake him out of his determination.
Wonwoo held your shoulders firmly, his gaze unwavering. "In another universe, I was selfish," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "But I ended up losing our friendship, losing Mingyu. I ended up losing you..." His words hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of past mistakes and missed opportunities.
Confusion furrowed your brow as you searched his eyes for understanding. "What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
Wonwoo's grip on your arm tightened, his resolve unyielding. "We don't have much time," he urged, his voice urgent. "Let's go to the groom."
Quickly, Wonwoo waited for you to change into comfortable clothes, both of you donning masks and hats to conceal your identities. With Mingyu's help, you found the groom, who was engrossed in conversation with guests. Mingyu motioned for both Wonwoo and you to retreat to a private area before confronting him.
The groom's surprise was evident as he laid eyes on you standing outside your room without your bridal gown. Before he could react, Mingyu and Wonwoo restrained him. Wonwoo realized the groom had no control over himself; he wasn't your husband yet.
"Let's stop the wedding," Wonwoo declared, his voice firm as he initiated the discussion. The furrowed expression on the groom's face spoke volumes about his response.
But before he could utter a word, Wonwoo dropped the bombshell. "She's pregnant with my child. We've been having an affair even before you entered the picture." The groom's composure shattered, his anger palpable.
"What does it mean, Y/n? We discussed this already."
As the groom moved towards you, Wonwoo and Mingyu intervened, shielding you from harm. Wonwoo signaled for Mingyu to escort you to his car while he dealt with the groom.
With an imposing presence, Wonwoo approached the groom, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the groom's agitation. "Y/n will pass away five years from now," Wonwoo revealed, his words laced with a solemn warning. "And you'll be behind bars for abusing and murdering her. I know your violent tendencies with women, so don't come near us unless you want the media to know."
Enraged, the groom grabbed Wonwoo's clothes, but Wonwoo effortlessly freed himself, straightening his attire. "I'm from the future," he declared, his voice steady. "We could stand here all day discussing your future, but let's prevent it by canceling this wedding."
*
Dear Yoon Y/n,
It's your friend, Jeon Wonwoo. I want to start by apologizing for my absence after that night. I couldn't bring myself to face you because everything changed between us. I no longer saw you as just a friend.
To be honest, it's been a long time since I've seen you that way. You've become more than a friend to me; you're a woman. I confided my feelings for you to Mingyu, and when I admitted I liked you, he punched me. Yet, he confessed he saw it coming.
For a fleeting moment after that night in your apartment, I was happy. I knew we were both intoxicated, but I didn't regret a thing. Yet, I couldn't shake the uncertainty of whether you felt the same way about me. Did you feel the same love as I did for you?
Today, I received your wedding invitation, and I couldn't muster the courage to confront you in person about how much I love you. Mingyu mentioned it was an arranged marriage, which gave me a sliver of hope that you might not love him. But at the end of the day, he'll be the one who owns you, right?
I want to be him. I want to be him so badly. If I were to attend your wedding and ask for your love, would you want to run away with me?
If your answer is yes, then I promise to be there.
With all my love,
Wonwoo
*
Wonwoo sat beside Mingyu, the weight of grief heavy in the air after attending your funeral. Mingyu handed him a book, your diary, a crucial piece of evidence detailing the abuse you suffered at the hands of your husband. Wonwoo's fingers traced over the cover, feeling the weight of your words within.
As he flipped through the pages, his heart clenched at the entry describing the morning of your wedding day, when you discovered your pregnancy. "She must have been waiting for me," Wonwoo thought, his throat tight with emotion.
Each word in your diary painted a vivid picture of your pain and suffering. Wonwoo read with tears streaming down his cheeks, feeling every pang in his chest as he absorbed the honesty and rawness of your emotions.
The diary was a testament to the strength you had to endure such torment, and Wonwoo couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a mixture of sadness, anger, and admiration for you. It was a journey through your deepest struggles, and Wonwoo vowed silently to ensure that justice would be served for you, no matter the cost.
"Gyungmo raped me that night. He wanted to kill my baby." Wonwoo closed the book, barely able to continue it.
Anger, guilt, and regret crashed over Wonwoo like a relentless tsunami. Jung Gyungmo, the source of your suffering, must pay for his atrocities, Wonwoo thought, his fists clenched with fury.
"We hadn't spoken for months after her wedding," Wonwoo recounted to Mingyu, his voice heavy with remorse. "But she called me in the dead of night, desperate for help. Her husband was nowhere to be found when I arrived. She was barely holding on, her body weak, blood staining her legs."
Mingyu turned to face Wonwoo, his expression mirroring the sorrow etched in his friend's features. "She was five months pregnant, enduring unimaginable stress and abuse," Mingyu explained, his voice cracking with emotion. "And she lost your... your baby."
Wonwoo's heart shattered into a million pieces as the weight of your pain crashed down upon him. The realization that he could have done more, should have been there for you, gnawed at his soul like a relentless beast. The guilt and anguish threatened to consume him whole as he grappled with the cruel reality of your suffering.
Mingyu's voice trembled as he struggled to continue speaking, the weight of your absence crushing his heart freshly from your recent funeral. Tears streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably, his grief pouring out in waves. Despite his own pain, he reached out to Wonwoo, his arms wrapping around his best friend in a tight embrace, seeking solace in their shared sorrow.
"It's not your fault," Mingyu whispered, trying to offer some comfort amidst the overwhelming anguish.
But Wonwoo's voice quivered with guilt as he choked out his words, his tears mingling with Mingyu's. "This is my fault!"
Mingyu shook his head vigorously, refusing to let Wonwoo bear the burden alone. "No, hyung," he insisted, his own anguish evident in his voice.
"If only I had intervened at her wedding, if only I had stopped everything, she would still be with us! She wouldn't—" Wonwoo's words dissolved into sobs, his pain too raw to articulate.
Mingyu nodded in solemn agreement, his own grief consuming him. "Me too, hyung," he confessed, his voice thick with sorrow.
"If only I could turn back time, I would stop the wedding in a heartbeat."
If only...
The words hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the irreversible tragedy that had befallen them all.
131 notes · View notes
sprout-fics · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Hellebore
(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)
Part Five of Snowblind
Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: 5.5k Tags: Slow Burn, Found Family, Taskforce 141, Team Dynamics, Reunions, Fluff, Slow Build, Team Bonding, Jealous Ghost, Protective Ghost, Soft Ghost, Crushes Warnings: None A/N: (See Ao3 for full author's notes)
Tumblr media
It’s a snowy Tuesday night in November when you come back to the team.
Ghost and the others arrive at the group’s usual haunt well before you do, and Price chuffs a little amused sound when he reads your message about being held up because of a baggage issue upon arrival. It’s not a worry. The team is in no rush. It just so happens that Laswell is chasing leads following the team’s most recent deployment, which means the task force has a rare week of tranquility between grueling deployments.
The pub is lively in the way only local places are- filled with familiar faces of neighbors and friends from the next town over. There’s no soldiers here besides themselves, and Ghost prefers it that way. Most of the younger gents from base tend to frequent the rowdier, louder bars- getting into brawls that spill out onto the streets and singing drunkenly along to the radio. The pub owner here refuses to entertain that type of behavior. Fortunately for the team, Price knows the fellow, and as a result the five of you are allowed an almost private sanctuary well away from the riotous demeanor of the younger recruits in their spare time.
It’s the perfect place to welcome you back into the fold.
It’s been three and a half long months.
Three and a half months of deployments, of irregular schedules, of sleeping in mice infested safe houses or camped out on desert bluffs. Evil never sleeps, Ghost had been told once when he was a younger man, and it meant neither did the 141. In the weeks they weren’t on mission, buried deep behind enemy lines or radio dark, the team had been training new troops to assist them on assignment. It had been a long, slow grind, one Ghost was accustomed too. Yet he, like the others, was grateful for a well deserved reprieve- even if it meant tackling the paperwork leftover from their time away from base.
He did notice, however, the silence in between him and the other three men on the team. Ghost often found himself checking his six, feeling the phantom absence of someone who was supposed to be in front of him. At least once a week he would step into a room with the others and pause, feeling the instinctual twinge of something missing- a presence that he’d never realized had ingrained itself into his awareness.
He noticed it in the way Soap seemed to come bother him more often these days, needing a listening ear, someone to impishly pester when Gaz tired of him. Ghost took note of the way Gaz hesitated on a fifth MRE pack when distributing food on mission. He saw it in the way Price turned just as he did, mouth halfway open to speak to someone who wasn’t there before remembering himself.
In the silence, the shadow of you lingered in them all.
Ghost remembered. He remembered from the first second he had last seen you- the way that your eyes had found his from your hospital bed as he’d lingered in the doorway. He remembered from the strangled call of his name he couldn’t answer, and the deafening boom of your voice as your chest emptied itself at Price, screaming for a recognition you would never give yourself. He remembered the uncomfortable squirming sensation in his stomach, like earthworms digging through graveyard dirt as he tried to absolve himself of the regret for letting you go without saying so much as a goodbye.
“There’s our lady of the hour!” Soap crows as you finally step inside from the winter chill, shrugging off a small smattering of flurries from your jacket. Ghost blinks under his mask as he takes you in, noticing instantly the way the coloring of your face has improved since your gaunt appearance trapped in his memory, the way you’ve added a little bit of weight that speaks of a good diet. Your hair is longer than he remembers, but as you turn your eyes to him he feels a recognition simmer to the surface.
It’s still you.
Simon is the last to rise with the others, hovering back as Soap and Gaz quickly embrace you, smothering you with their larger frames. You instantly return the gesture with a pleased laugh, eyes glimmering. Soap makes a point to squeeze you just a little too tight, and Simon feels an inward curl of amusement as you bat at the Scot’s back, wheezing for reprieve.
“You look good, Fix.” Price offers, quieter than the two sergeants, and something shines in your gaze as you turn towards the captain with a murmur of thanks. Simon observes the look in Price’s eyes as the captain smiles down at you. There’s trust there, in the same way he holds for the rest of his team. The ever-present sternness is gentled, somehow, eyes forever focused but gaze warm in a way that speaks of fondness.
Then you turn to Ghost.
“Fix.” He offers, and despite the curtness there’s a relief there that he allows to bleed through into his voice.
“Long time no see, LT.” You tell him, grinning ear to ear, and Ghost feels the remainder of...something tug distantly in his chest, long forgotten but not yet erased.
It’s gone before he can question it as Gaz tugs you over towards the group’s usual table and Price enlists Ghost’s help in ferrying a round of drinks back towards the booth. Soap distributes them easily, knowing each of the team’s preferences by heart. A whiskey neat for Price and Ghost each, a Guinness for him, a rum and coke for Gaz, and something suspiciously colorful and fruity for you. Ghost watches as Soap teases your choice of beverage, going so far as to taste it and make a face that has you shoving playfully at his shoulder.
“They didn’t push you out of the plane then.” Ghost offers when you turn to him expectantly, leg crossed and one arm slung around the corner of the booth comfortably.
Soaps rolls his eyes. “What Ghost means is that he’s happy to see you, hen.” The Scot supplies, and you only grin.
“You’re the one that oversaw my HALO training, Ghost. Pretty sure it was you that pushed me out of an airplane.”
Ghost shrugs. “You survived.”
You laugh, and once more that strange flickering feeling flutters in Ghost’s chest.
He studiously ignores it, instead opting to observe you as you turn to chatter to Price. There’s a weariness to your shoulders that speaks of jet-lag, and your clothes are slightly rumpled from being contained to your duffle for the long flight, but your smile is warm and your eyes are bright as you laugh at something Gaz says.
The conversation goes on, and Soap gets up for several long minutes, only to arrive back with several carefully balanced plates of snacks that are quickly set upon by the table. Ghost refrains, watching instead as you devour the food in front of you, adding something about how the military plane you were on didn’t have first class service.
“Getting spoiled back in the states, eh?” Soap nudges you.
You pause. Something flickers in your gaze. It’s gone before the others can notice, but Ghost pauses, mulling over the flash of whatever it was in his mind’s eye.
He’s seen that look before.
Ghost observes you idly as the rest of the team focuses on you, blinking slowly and letting his thoughts churn like the slow, amber haze of the whiskey in his tumbler. If you notice his unwavering stare you give no indication, and it allows Ghost to dip into the recesses of his mind, consider the woman before him now, trying to find the thread of memory that speaks of the something he saw for briefest of moments when you were confronted with the thought of home.
So, he starts from the beginning.
It had been two months before the Nepal mission, the one with the proximity of your freezing form forming a memory that itches under Ghost’s skin. He’d been surprised at first at Price’s introduction of you to the team, biting down on a comment of why Laswell would send a goddamn rookie out into the field alongside trained killers with years of experience. He’d withheld the comment, focusing instead on Price’s approval and Laswell’s recommendation, both of which lent weight to his respect for someone who he couldn’t help but think looked so young.
It’d been the eyes he noticed first.
Ghost knows the eyes of soldiers who have killed, and knows that something bright dies inside them at the act of taking a life. He’s spent enough years in the military to discern those who kill enemies, and those who kill for sport. Yet your eyes, facing forward, as if gazing expectantly into an unknown future, were somehow neither of those things. It was a strange paradox, one Ghost chalked immediately up to inexperience and naivety. He’d been half right of course, though neither of those things were any fault of your own. As a medic you’d seen less active combat than some of your comrades, but it didn’t extinguish the impressive set of skills that came with your file. A well- trained sniper, skilled in intelligence analysis, used to operating in areas of high conflict under less than ideal conditions. A note from Laswell stated you’d not only helped save the survivors of a suicide attack on Camp Lemonnier, but had been able to parse clues about the specifics of the attack in the process. Young, promising, with a very good career in the CIA ahead of you should you choose to pursue it.
Yet there was something about your eyes Ghost couldn’t shake in the weeks following meeting you. It wasn’t the lingering innocence there that would soon change, nor was it the focus and drive he had witnessed in your stare. Instead, Ghost wondered if, in your expectant and ready stare into the future, if you had ever dared to look behind you.
As if you couldn’t stand the thought of your own shadow.
Ghost couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding there, the things you refused to speak of.
He wondered, distantly, if they somehow mirrored his own.
Ghost had watched you adjust to your new surroundings with determination yet trepidation- straddling an aleatory balance between pure ambition and fatalistic doubt in your own abilities and self worth. Ghost watched you catalog your own mistakes, swallow down the acrid, bitter taste of failure and replace it with a resolve so deep it cracked at the marrow of your bones. You never complained, never tried to avoid the tasks before you, never expressed an inch of doubt in the team- only in yourself.
Ghost fully expected it to break you, the pressure of your own expectations on top of the crushing weight of responsibility that came with your new assignment to the 141. He’d watched you from afar with an admitted amount of disdain for the first few weeks you had settled in, waiting for the breakdown that would have you confess you weren’t cut out for this, that you were leaving. Yet you refused to speak of your doubts for a single moment, as if voicing your own fears was a failure in of itself. Instead you buried it deep inside, allowing the earth underneath your feet to drag you down with the force of gravity, swallowing you whole in hopes the blinding pressure would someday yield not broken bones, but diamond dust.
There was a small amount of sympathy Ghost held for you, reminded in some ways of the once wounded thing he was long ago, after the thing he’d long since tried to forget. Grave dirt filling his mouth and choking his airway, and the thing that had crawled out from hell had been broken just as well. Yet where you held sorrow, grief, for the secrets inside you, Simon held only fury for the things of which he was robbed.
Why you weren’t furious, blazing bright for all to see, remains a mystery in of itself.
Tightly coiled, shoulders tense, fists clenched at your sides as you’d raised yourself from the dirt of the sparring ring in the glorious temperance of mid September. Dirt under your fingernails, shoulders shaking, and in your eyes then too there had been grief. Ghost had put you on your back again and again on purpose, he’ll admit that. A test to see if you’d stay down after being tossed there one too many times by him- the man you looked towards in the thick of gunfire, of battle, as if he was somehow your northern star that you could align yourself with when you didn’t trust yourself.
Yet bruised, scuffed, you’d stood again with those same eyes. Looking forward instead of inward, a righteous fury tamed only by the reflexive disbelief in yourself.
He couldn’t stand it.
If you could see, if only you could see the things you were capable of, the things Ghost knew you could accomplish, then the shadow you refused to look at wouldn’t nip at your heels and send you hurtling into catastrophic, paralyzing doubt. Maybe you wouldn’t look to Ghost to find the way forward and instead trust yourself to forge ahead without the guidance of your team- emblazoning a trail ahead for them to follow.
If only you could see yourself in the way Ghost saw you.
Never your failures. Never anything else but you.
Just you.
Ghost had allowed you the victory of winning the match in hopes it would bolster your confidence, chip away at the thing inside you that festered doubt like a macabre bloom rotting inside the hollow of your chest. He’d hoped it would have been enough to allow you to see your worth for what it is.
For a while, it seemed it had. You trusted yourself more often, listened to your own intuition, didn’t hesitate as much in the field. Though you still looked to Ghost, your eyes had shifted from the gaze of someone who looked to the future in anticipation of the worst, and into that of a soldier learning to shape the future to your will. Ghost could see the way the team, who had long since adopted you as one of their own, watched your slow journey with pride, remaining by your side if you were to fall.
Would they, if only you would have allowed yourself to be caught.
Catch you he did, as he’d watched your legs crumple beneath your wounded figure, arms cradling you even as you protested his attention to the injury you’d tried to conceal. Biting down all complaints in your paralytic fear of failure, compressing down until you’d shaken and trembled in his arms- begging him to look away from the thing you saw yourself as.
“I didn’t want you to see.”
Him, who had been able to see you since the very beginning.
By all accounts, that should have been the end of it. Terminated from the task force due to pure negligence- an inoperable failure by the soldier designated as their medic. Price had been ready to do so, as he sat by your bedside in the hospital, eyes heavy as they rested on your comatose form.
“We can’t do this to her, Simon.” He’d murmured to his lieutenant, hovering near the door, arms crossed and observing the ashen pallor of your face with a bitter, sour sort of emotion he couldn’t quite place.
Simon listening silently, eyes focused entirely on you. Your shallow breathing had become ingrained in his memories twice now. The first in Venezuela, when a bullet had pierced you through and Simon himself had handed you to the medics with a small, scant prayer to a God he stopped believing in long ago.
Not this one. Not yet.
You’d fought then, pulled through despite the blood, the gore, the desperate lack of air your injury had rendered you. Constantly fighting despite your doubts, trying to claw your way out of a grave of your own design even as earth tumbled downwards onto your striving form.
“She’s doing it to herself.” Ghost told his friend and captain, and Price had looked at him for the first time, suddenly seeing the thing Ghost had witnessed all this time.
Right he had been, for as he stood outside the hospital room listening to Price’s conversation with you, the blazing fury Simon felt inside himself had spilled from your lips as well.
“I HAVE EVERYTHING TO PROVE!!”
Hiding behind the excuse of trying to appease them because you hated yourself, trying to prove your worth to the team even though you were just trying to find reasons to justify your own existence to your fractured soul.
There had been a moment after Soap and Gaz had arrived back to Price and Ghost, despondent and despairing at your rejection, where Ghost had considered the possibility that this time you would stay down.
Yet, in some ways a miracle, and in some way entirely expected, here you are.
Ghost allows himself to take in all the tiny details as you preoccupy yourself with showing off photos to Gaz on your phone. The sergeant crowds in close, and on your other side Soap cranes his head to see properly, complaining about the lack of attention until you reveal the photos to him as well. You’re smiling in a way Ghost has never seen before, and it makes something inside his stomach flip in that strange, foreign sort of flutter he can’t understand.
“Do you want to see, LT?” You ask, and Ghost blinks, nods mutely as he leans in to look at a landscape picture of autumn colors from Virginia. You look at him expectantly, and it takes effort for Ghost to not blink in surprise at the new, glimmering light in your eyes. Honest, yes, focused, but...happy.
He nods again silently, offering a little hum, and it seems to be enough for you as you lean across the table to show Price as well. The captain says something Ghost doesn’t make out beyond the odd thump of his heartbeat in his ears.
That flutter again. The one that makes his chest go strangely warm and tight.
Maybe he’s finally developing a heart murmur. Wouldn’t surprise him, given his line of work.
Yet the more he dwells on it, the more he realizes this isn’t the first time this sort of reaction has happened. No, as Ghost considers, he can recall a dozen different instances of something vaguely similar- an unnamed sort of self consciousness that began from the moment he met your eyes for the first time.
In training, when you’d looked at him after that first successful HALO-jump, hair wild, eyes wide, chest heaving with exhilaration but pride showing through for the first time he’d ever seen it. You’d looked to him for praise at your perfect performance, and Ghost had scarcely managed a ‘That’ll do’ before turning away from you with his chest clenching oddly.
In the field, propped alongside him flat against a rooftop staring through your rifle scope. Completely still, unmoving, scarcely breathing as you’d watched the target from a distance, not even flinching when Ghost instructed you to drop him. A single shot, and the slow exhale you’d released told multitudes of your own uncertainty at succeeding.
In a dim safehouse, where you’d dressed after your shower but your hair had clung damp to your exposed shoulders- an odd sort of sight that Ghost felt almost voyeuristic in witnessing. Vulnerable as you’d tugged a jacket over your sports bra, not seeming to notice the gaze trained on the sloping panes of your back.
Back at base, with your exhausted form crumpling into your bunk without even bothering to remove your gear. Ghost, who should have ignored you, chose instead to methodically remove your knee braces, your helmet, vest, your boots as you’d slept unaware. He’d meant to chew you out for not checking in your gear before falling asleep, but he never got the chance.
When you’d stood beside him after the sparring match, gazing towards the future as you were informed of your next assignment, Ghost had watched those eyes once more alight with something that pulled dangerously inside him. When he’d landed a hand on your shoulder, had offered a rare instance of praise, the strangeness inside him only grew warmer by the way your expression had changed into that of pride.
In Nepal, in the midnight darkness, when your trembling voice had whispered to him in the dark, only to grow pliant in his arms as his rumbling voice had echoed the truth he’d kept tightly concealed since the moment you first turned your gaze on him.
“I see you. Just you.”
Just you.
Ghost realizes he’s been silent for some time in his musings, which garners him a few sideways glances from the rest of the team. When Soap huffs a laugh and spouts some sort of Scottish gibberish, Ghost levels a look at him and reminds him with a small “English, MacTavish.” Which makes the Scot grumble further until you nudge an arm into his side.
“Tired?” Price murmurs, leaning imperceptibly closer to Ghost to question him in a tone the others can’t hear, and Ghost shrugs noncommittally. He could say yes as a means of covering his vaguely odd behavior, but then he’d hear some sort of remark from Price about sleeping properly- of which he doesn’t need a reminder.
“Blackball.” Gaz states solidly as he stands from the table a minute or so later.
“Pass.” Ghost states blandly, and adjusts in the space Gaz has left, spreading his legs wider so he’s more comfortable. Gaz shoots him an almost pouting look, and Ghost only blinks blankly back at him, to which the sergeant shrugs and looks at you.
“I’m rusty.” You confess sheepishly under his gaze, and before you can say anything else Soap is slinging an arm around your shoulders.
“We’ll teach ya.” The Scot offers, and Ghost can tell from the slight sway in his balance as he rises that the Scot is pleasantly tipsy- surprising, given his tolerance.
The three of you shuffle off towards the back end of the pub, and in your absence Price rises with a small groan from his chair.
“I’ll be heading out then.” He announces, gathering himself before placing a card down on the table. “My treat. Keep an eye on them, won’t you Simon?”
Ghost shoots his captain a withering look.
“No promises.” He tells him after a long pause, but he knows just by looking at Price’s smug expression that the captain knows it’s a lie. His second in command, asshole by design yet unable to not watch the six of his teammates.
“If you say so.” Price calls over his shoulder, and Ghost watches as he shrugs on his coat, the door chiming as he steps into the coming snow.
Ghost huffs, turns his attention towards the back of the pub where the younger trio has wandered off. Gaz, with his seemingly endless charm and amicability, has managed to snag the lone pool table out from under one of the other parties, who instead wander past Ghost towards the bar in search of another round. In their wake, Soap rambles the game’s rules to you, demonstrating his long reach with one of the billiard sticks as you nod studiously. There’s a slight scrunch to your brow that speaks of focus.
Loathe as he is to admit it, it’s...disarmingly charming.
He needs another drink.
Rather than rising for the bar, however, Ghost abandons the table and makes for the toilet. It’s only after he’s washing his hands that he pauses, looks up to the mirror placed on the wall and into his reflection.
He chose a simple balaclava tonight, dark eye paint not entirely smudged away from his time on base earlier. Yet it’s gone enough that he can make out the blonde of his eyelashes, the rims of his eyes that speak of pale skin.
Once there’d been a man there, in the mirror. Not much older than you, he thinks. Proud, arrogant, but dedicated and loyal to his duty.
Innocent, unknowing of the things that were to become of him.
Distantly, Simon wonders if maybe one day you’ll wear a mask too.
and silently, he realizes you already do.
Yet the thing hiding underneath your smile, your laughter, the blazing look in your eyes is not the shell of a broken man who has lost everything but has chosen to soldier on for the sake of doing something worth fighting for. No, the thing beneath your mask strives to claw out from the grave of grief you’ve found yourself in, dirt caught under your fingernails and voice choked of air as you fight to become the person you present yourself as. As someone who is free. Happy.
Like watching hellebore unfurl from the frost of a snowy mountain you can never seem to find the summit of.
and Ghost watches from below as the ascending shadow of you eclipses the rising sun.
When he makes his way back to the main room he finds the pub has begun to empty, the late hour beckoning folks home, and the incoming snowstorm hurrying those left behind. Gaz and Soap seem to pay the worsening weather no mind, if the clack of billiard balls is any indication. They talk in comfortable, slurring words, and Ghost distantly wonders if they’ll be hungover tomorrow. Maybe he should have them oversee the rookie drills. Just to be an ass about it.
Yet Ghost instantly notices you’ve wandered from the pool table back towards the bar, perched on a barstool and chatting to some young fellow beside you as the bartender makes more drinks.
Ghost feels his eyes narrow.
The bloke seems younger than you by a spring and then some, confident in the way of men his age. He seems to be doing most of the talking, and while to an outsider it may seem friendly enough, Ghost notices the way the man’s eyes dip to your lips as you politely smile and sip your drink, listening to him make small talk.
Ghost observes your eyes, the ease of your shoulders. You don’t seem uncomfortable, not with the way you smile back at him as Ghost passes behind you back in the direction of the booth. The fellow you’re talking to briefly glances over his shoulder, and does a double take at the skull mask wearing shadow behind his back before turning his attention back to you. Yet there’s a rigidity to his spine now, the sensation that he’s being watched.
Which, he shouldn’t be really. Ghost isn’t entirely sure himself why he’s observing the scene so closely, and even makes a point to tear his gaze away and pull out his phone for a bit. Yet he can’t stop the odd itchiness under his skin, the same instinct he has on the field. Sidelong glances at the bar reveal your conversation partner leaning in, his voice dipping an octave, how he barks a laugh at something you say.
You don’t seem to notice the gent’s clear interest in you, and that makes Ghost’s awareness itch with an odd sensation he can’t completely place. For his credit, the fellow doesn’t set off actual alarm bells in Ghost’s acutely tuned threat perception. In any other context, Ghost wouldn’t spare him a second glance. Yet now, with the way he tilts his head at you and smiles as you talk, Simon feels an odd discomfort brewing in the center of his stomach, like an inky pool of emotion he shouldn’t allow himself.
He should leave well enough alone.
Instead, he surprises himself by rising from his chair and trying to not stalk over to the bar so much as ease by catching your conversation partner’s eyes and murmuring something about an ID dropped in the bathroom.
The man pales, and Simon isn’t entirely sure if he truly believes the lie, or is simply intimidated by the hulking masked soldier grumbling at him. Either way he excuses himself, and Ghost makes a point to lean down into your ear as you watch him vanish.
“He’s bad news.” Ghost lies through his teeth.
You blink, gaze up at him in surprise with parted lips. “You really think so? He seemed nice.”
Ghost is silent, trying to ignore how that pit in his stomach seems to ease with the man’s absence. You seem to take his silence for an affirmation, nodding to yourself and sighing.
“I guess I should probably clear out before he comes back then.” You remark, finishing the remainder of your drink and catching Soap’s eye to gesture your exit. Soap makes a pout, but gives you a thumbs up.
“I’ll see you back at base, Ghost.” You tell him, easing off your stool and swaying only slightly. “Don’t stay out too late, it’s bad for your health.”
Says the woman that works alongside trained killers. Ghost thinks wryly.
Yet before you can make it five steps, Ghost surprises himself again.
“I’ll drive you back.”
You pause, blink at him, before a smile crawls across your face and you nod eagerly.
“Won’t leave me to the elements?” You ask, and Ghost wonders if you too are thinking of your shivering form caught in his arms in Nepal.
“No.” He responds quietly, sliding Price’s card across the bar to clear the team’s tab before following you out into the snow.
The bloke from before rounds the corner to the toilet just as Ghost hovers on the threshold, waiting for you to shrug on your jacket just outside. Ghost catches a single glimpse of recognition, of realization in the man’s eyes before the door jingles behind the two of you as it closes.
Ghost tries to ignore what this clearly looks like. What it actually is.
Snowflakes chase you into the car as you sidle into the passenger seat, catching on your hair. You shiver a little and tuck your jacket tighter around you.
“You should wear something warmer next time.” He finds himself saying over the start of the engine, and you offer him a bemused look.
“Looking out for me, Ghost?”
More than you know.
Yet Ghost doesn’t offer anything, shrugging noncommittally and turning on the radio to fill the silence. Cheery Christmas music instantly echoes through the tinny speakers and Simon reflexively shuts it off as soon as it starts, before the bitter taste of memory can poison his mouth. He expects you to call him on it, but instead you huff, shake your head.
“It’s not even Thanksgiving back in the states yet.” You complain. “I swear they start earlier every year.”
Simon hums as he turns onto the road. “Holiday plans?” He asks mildly, and notices the way you stiffen out of the corner of his eye.
That grief again.
“Probably some mice infested safehouse in a far corner of the world.” You reply after a beat. “Away in a manger and all that.”
That startles a snort from him. You turn to Ghost at the sound, eyes wide.
“You laughed.” You observe in awe, and Ghost gives you a momentary glance before shaking his head.
“Did not.”
“You did!”
“Had a snowflake in my nose.”
“Under the mask?”
“Mm.”
You huff, slumping in your seat a bit, but when Ghost glances at you out of the corner of his eye, he can see you smiling.
The silence lapses, fortunately, and Ghost is relieved to find you don’t try to fill the void. Instead you watch the snowy road ahead with drooping eyes, head nodding with the weight of a long journey and energetic evening. Eventually, he watches your eyes shutter close, and feels himself relaxing in response.
It would be frustrating, how much you trust him. Trusting him to get you back safe, to fall asleep beside him, believing him when he chases off a man with pure intentions only for the transgression of getting too close. You trust him to watch your six, to keep you alive, to drag you to safety. You trust him enough to push you out of airplanes only so he can catch you.
If it were anyone else, Ghost would be furious at you for being so blindingly accepting of them. Yet Ghost, in his seemingly infinite selfishness, soaks it in like the warmth of a rising sun. Like he himself emerges gingerly from the frost.
The lights of the town go by quietly, and in the lingering sound of festive lullabies Ghost is reminded of things passed- of the deadly cold and the searing heat of flames. He’s reminded of the grief he recognizes in your own eyes, wondering silently how it is you’ve found the strength to accomplish it despite it all and to keep smiling.
Silently, in the frost of his own heart, Simon tucks away a quiet warmth that’s begun to unfurl.
Tumblr media
Tag List:
Please reply to or reblog this post with 'taglist' to be tagged in future updates. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, please DM me.
@dankest-farrik @zwiiicnziiix @moondirti @sritashimada @ladiilokii @sandinthemachine @verdandis-blog @guyfieriiii @fan-of-encouragement @starlitnotes @rentaldarling @mockerycrow @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @tinykaka @dumb-djarin @homicidal-slvt @selinn777 @nachtcirce @jujubashow @mutuallimbenclosure @kkinky @trash-boi-4-life @scatter-mind001 @alittlefansthings @allaboutirem0 @keiva1000 @makariaspresence @achelois-is-here @nightingale-ghost-writer @altered-delta @thetimidsarcasticcat @nestaarcheronss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @ghxstyops @whotfislynn @gazs-blue-hat @obi-wansorrow @liltofu99 @thatswhyilovetheghost @devilsfoodcake22 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @hlo-kty @children-of-epiales @definitelyanonymous @queenquazar @alicesfracturedmirror @stillinracooncity @paigetaylor628
313 notes · View notes
iateyourparents · 4 months
Note
can you do one like the medium but for sam? 🙊
medium | s.g.
pairing: sam golbach x fem!medium!reader
summary: you’re a guest in sam and colby’s video.
warnings: place they are exploring is made up by me, mentions of death, physical hurt, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language), wasn’t proofread
an: thank you! i wrote it kinda differently than colby’s one but i hope you like it <33 here’s colby’s version of medium.
pictures are from pinterest:)
Tumblr media
“What’s up guys! It’s Sam and Colby!” Colby started the video.
You stood next to them waiting for them to announce your presence.
“Today we are exploring haunted hospital. But it’s not just a hospital.” Sam said “It has graveyard in the backyard. People laying there were murdered by doctors and nurses here and then they were buried behind the hospital by cleaners to get rid of the bodies.”
“Exactly.” Colby nodded „We will tell you more about the history of this place in a moment but now let’s welcome on our channel ours today’s guest! Y/n, Sam’s girlfriend, will be exploring with us!”
You smiled and waved at the camera while Sam cointinued Colby’s introduction of your person “Most of you probably don’t know but my love is a medium. So we’re positive it will give us more perspectives on this place. Baby, how do you feel about this experience?”
You were about to answer when Colby interrupted with a cheeky smirk “Good, thanks babe.”
You only laughed while Sam shook his head with a smile and again looked at you.
“I feel excited, that’s my first time in so haunted place.” you laughed “I already can tell there’s so much bad and sad vibes in this place.”
“Great, then let’s start.” Colby clapped his hands.
You all walked into the hospital where waiting for you was yours tourguide. He quicky gave you a tour and said some things about this place to the camera and the left you alone.
„Okay, so like Mike said, the graveyard is called the most active place on the hospital’s grounds. So why won’t we start there?” Sam offered.
You went to the exit into the backyard and just as you walked through the doorframe you could feel shivers running down your spine. You felt overwhelming sadness and brutality. You literally could feel emotions of spirits here but as fast as it came it was gone.
“When I walked through the doors I felt shivers all over me and I felt like I was one of those spirits. I felt their emotions. But it was quickly gone.” you said to the camera.
“You just can feel this…sadness.” Colby added “I don’t know if it’s only me but I feel like I’m being watched.”
You and Sam agreed with his words and you explained to the viewers “I’m honestly not surprised we feel like it because we are being watched. I feel so many spirits here. I can see only couple of them but I’m sure that those I can’t see are also looking at us. But honestly I don’t feel…threatened? Like, I was expecting to feel not okay, to them not being okay with us because of how they ended up here but it’s actually opposite. They are curious but don’t feel need to harass us or something.”
“That’s actually a big relief because this place is known for people getting attacked in many ways.” Sam said. „Baby, could you describe who you see?”
“Sure.” you shrugged and looked around “Most spirits I see are pretty young. But I can see some olders ones too. They all are just standing or sitting around, I think they may be in places where their bodies are.”
“That’s so sad.” Sam pouted “Imagine dying here and getting buried here without your family knowing so they couldn’t even visit you and when it all was discovered it was too late to find everybody’s relatives.”
“We should probably start investigation.” Colby stated after a moment of silence. “We will start here with the spirit box but we were thinking about doing an estes method here outside later.”
You took a rempod from Sam and placed it on the stone that was gravered with story of this grounds as a memory of all these victims of bad care system and cruel people working here.
It wasn’t long later when rem pod started going off.
“Alright, whoever touched that, thank you.” Colby said „We want you all to know we come here in peace and just to get to know more about you and what happened here. We don’t want to disrespect or harass you. We promise we won’t do anything you don’t want us to but we’re hoping some of you will communicate with us.” rem pod went off again. “Thank you.”
“I can feel that most of them actually came here after your speech.” you stated and boys smiled.
„If you want to say anything to us, just say it to this thing and it will say it to us.” Sam explained turning on the spirit box.
Not a second later box said “dead” and “doctors”.
„Doctors killed you? Unfortunately we know, that’s awful what happened.” Sam tried to hold the conversation.
Box answered “body” and “here”.
„Your bodies are here?” Colby asked and spirit box confirmed.
You were asking more questions when suddenly you could feel emotions around you changing.
„Guys, for some reason some of them are starting to get angry. I think it might be because we are reminding them of everything.” you frowned when some ghost confirmed your words using the spirit box “We are sorry for reminding you…” you couldn’t continue because you felt like something scratched your face and you hissed placing your hand on burning place.
Sam immediately frowned in worry and stood next you carefully taking your hand away from your face just to gasp.
“Holy shit, something scratched you.” Colby pointed camera at your cheek where were two red lines.
“I think they don’t want us here anymore.” Sam said and you could hear worry in his voice so you squeezed his hand to let him know you’re alright.
“Yeah, let’s go inside.” Colby offered.
You went to take rem pod off the stone when it suddenly was swept off of it and landed on the grass.
“Holy fuck, did you recorded that?” Sam asked shocked picking up the rem pod.
“Yeah, camera was pointing there so I think it was captured.” Colby said and pointed camera at himself “Holy shit guys, it’s so sick.”
You took all your things and went inside where you decided to start investigation in the waiting room.
And again you didn’t have to wait long for some signs. Just as you were about to place your equipment you all heard a serie of knocks and then footsteps.
“I hope you guys can hear it too.” Sam whispered to the camera “It’s coming from this way.” he pointed at one of the examination rooms
“We are currently in the children ward but I don’t feel any children here.” you frowned “There’s only adults. Were the wards changed?”
“No.” Colby shook his head “There’s nothing about this anywhere. It was children ward to the end.”
“That’s weird.” you sighed and a moment later you could hear a scratching noise, like a chair against the floor.
“Shit.” Sam said with camera facing old chairs next to one of the walls. What attracted his attention was fact that the chairs weren’t in places they were a minute ago.
Next moment later your attention was turned to hissing Sam who hold his side with one hand.
Colby quickly took camera from the blonde while you lifted your boyfriend’s hoodie just to see a red handprint.
“Oh my god.” you gasped and Colby zoomed camera to give viewers a better look on the red spot “It literally looks like someone slapped you. Did it felt like it?”
“No.” Sam shook his head squeezing your hand in his “I felt like something was touching my side and then it suddenly felt hot.”
Before anyone could say anything more, Colby hissed and you could see handprint starting to show on his collarbone.
“It felt just like you described it.” Colby frowned “Is there something?”
“Yeah, it looks the same as Sam’s handprint.” you stated taking camera from him to show both boys and the red spots.
Then there was a loud noise coming from the same examination room as earlier.
You went there, boys following you and when you were in the room there wasn’t anything special but then the doors closed themselves loudly behind you.
“What the hell?” you pointed camera at the closed door and Sam went to open them. They, thankfully, opened and you quickly got out.
“Okay, something is wrong.” you stated giving camera to Colby. Sam looked worried and stood next to you. “I can’t explain this but I just know that something is so not right.”
“Our equipment.” Sam pointed out suddenly. Their equipment was scattered carelessly around the floor. It wasn’t like that when you went to that room.
“It’s dead.” you said picking up the spirit box that wasn’t flashing a red light anymore. “Or broken.”
“Shit, it must drained energy from it.” Colby said.
Suddenly you felt like something pulled your hand and you thought it was Sam but when you looked behind you, Sam was good few inches away from you.
“What the hell, something just grabbed and pulled my hand.” you frowned and Sam grabbed your hand giving it a squeeze.
Then something pulled Sam’s hair and you all could feel temperature in room changing. It was freezing.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked massaging his scalp.
“Someone is angry and feel need to be violent. I think it might be a doctor because it has, like authority aura around itself.” you explained.
“There was this one doctor that died here.” Sam told you “He died because of hypothermia in the winter.”
“It would explain the temperature changing.” Colby deduced.
You heard big thud from examination room.
“It wants us there.” Sam offered and started walking that way but you stopped him grabbing his hand and shaking your head.
“We shouldn’t go there, it’s luring us there with bad intentions in mind.” you said and boys looked impressed.
“It has a lot of energy if it’s the same one who was doing sounds during our tour.” said your boyfriend.
Again, big thud, this time closer to you.
“We should get out boys.” you stated “Something bad is about to happen. And it won’t end well for any of us.”
Sam and Colby knew your intuition was almost never failing so they just started packing and Colby said to their viewers “Remember that your health is the most important while things like this and that’s why we don’t wanna risk now, especially with y/n with us.”
“You cannot follow us home or hurt us.” Sam said sternly.
You quickly got out of the hospital and you could hear constant thuds, knocking and footsteps behind you that ended just when you were safely out of the building.
“It’s mad we got away.” you informed boys. They gulped and quickly said few words to the camera as an outro and you all got into the car and drove away from the hospital.
“I think we should go back there after some time. And take more people. And do that estes method in the backyard.” Sam said holding your hand between seats.
“Yeah, that’s good idea. We should take Nate and Seth.” Colby offered.
Not longer later you were in your and Sam’s hotel room sitting on his lap.
“Your cheek is more red than before.” he pouted kissing delicately the scratches.
“It will go away in few days.” you assured.
“It might scar.” he frowned.
“It’s okay.” you knew he felt bad for taking you there “Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault and I wanted to go there.” you reminded and he just sighed and kissed you.
“I’m glad it only ended with scratches and not something worse.” he started peppering your face with small kisses and you smiled.
“Me too.”
This time you started a kiss.
198 notes · View notes
itscherrylipsforme · 2 months
Text
Everything fits into place: Oliver Quick x fem!reader
Tumblr media
Part 1 here
Summary: After having fallen in love with you at an Oxford's library, Oliver planned everything out until he could have you wrapped around his fingers. Now that your school year is over, you have been invited to spend the firsts months of Summer in Saltburn. You were certainly not expecting what you found there, but don't worry, Ollie was already three steps ahead
Warnings: Post Saltburn fic, a little bit dark (it’s Oliver, what you expected?), age gap (he is around 15-17 years older), slightly innocent kin? (A little bit spicy, but nothing really sexual)
Requested: yes
Words: Something between 700-800 words
Author's rambles: As I have seen that people somehow enjoyed my shitty writing I decided to make part two. Hope you like it!
Masterlist Characters I write for
Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ
I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗
Tumblr media
Oliver hadn't told you much about Saltburn, you could only gather the crumbs of information he left once in a while. A beautiful big home in the northwest that he had inherited from a woman he considered to be kind of his "second mother" after she passed away, that was all that you knew about it. Once he also he mentioned that she had met her through her son, who had been in Ollie's year in uni, that had committed suicide when both of them were young. All of that seemed like tragic memories that your boyfriend tried to bury in his past, so you didn't want to dig much on it not to hurt him.
But during the three hours long car ride that you had to do from Oxford to your Summer destination, you were expecting that at least he could describe it with more the detail. To your surprise he didn't and when the two of you arrived at the mansion he was able to call "home" now, just surprised was not the exact word you would use to describe what you were feeling. When the maid who had opened the doors of that palace to the two of you was ordered to dismiss by "Mr Quick" as they referred him, you couldn't help but ask.
"Why didn't you tell me you were practically living like a prince, Ollie?"
"Had to make sure you truly loved me and weren't after my money, darling" He answered plainly and tried to change the subject "Come on, let me show you the place"
"You know I am not like that" You protested. Maybe you wouldn't go as far as saying that you were offended, but you would be lying if you said his words didn't hurt a little at least.
You trusted him with every piece of your heart and soul. Told him all your secrets and all the times you had lost all your hope. You loved him enough to talk about it when you fell like nothing more like some broken mess that no one, not even him, could fix. And yet he couldn't do the same? Couldn't he trust enough for this until now Somehow Oliver managed to read your thoughts from the expression of worry on your face
"My beautiful beautiful y/n I am aware of It now. But trust me, I know better than anyone else how far people can go to gain power, I needed to be sure" His eyes seemed to darken a little for a few brief second lost in his mind until he came back and rested his hand sweetly on your cheek "How can I apologize to my beloved girlfriend for putting her through a trial?"
"Well, one of the few things you did tell me about this place was that it had a library" A little grin played on your lips while he held your hand and guided you through the maze that mansion was.
Four weeks later, you two were laying in the bed you have been sharing during your stay. His arm around your waist a little bit too tight, as you had learned he liked, and your head resting on the crock of his neck. It was one of those lazy mornings that you could spend peacefully in each other embrace.
"You know every day for the rest of our life could be like this" His nose and lips dancing dangerously close to your face as his hand rubbed your back up and down.
"Ollie, that was a funny one" A small giggle echoed in the room.
"I am serious y/n" His big blue eyes glued to you as he started kissing, your forehead, your cheek, your lips... "We could sooner than later. Marry, have you in my bed each morning, and maybe a few kids around if you are up for it. Doesn't it sound good for your"
"I need to finish my degree first, Ollie" His lips now on your neck, and gosh he knew pretty well that you couldn't say no to anything when he did those kind of things.
"Of course you have that, I am not saying otherwise" Actually, you didn't need to finish it, once you were his you wouldn't have to work a single day in your life. But if you wished to gain your diploma to be happy, he wouldn't dare to say otherwise. "Maybe after you graduated, what do you think about?"
You just smiled at his sweet trail of kisses, and he took it as a yes. Soon enough you would be tied forever, soon enough you would be his wife, soon enough you two would be better than the Cattons have ever been. Soon enough, everything from his plan would fit into place.
144 notes · View notes
fdelopera · 6 months
Text
Musings on the Moon Knight System for the High Holidays
Tumblr media
BROKE: Moon Knight System in the comics are Jewish in name only. They’re basically pagan idolaters.
WOKE: Jake is MK System’s spiritual protector in the comics (especially MacKay), and connects the most with their Jewish identity.
BESPOKE: The Moon Knight System are very Jewish, but Marc, Steven, and Jake have a lot of specific religious trauma, and they each connect to their Jewishness in different ways and at different times ... just as most Jews do. Their Jewishness is an intrinsic part of who they are.
Tumblr media
At the Rosh Hashanah 2nd day service yesterday, the Rabbi said something that brought Moon Knight System to mind.
During the Malchuyot, Zichronot, and Shofarot prayers, she said this before the Zichronot prayer:
“Jews are all about memory. We tell and retell the stories of our ancestors to link our generations together. We tell the story of the Exodus and redemption, and these are human memories. Here in the Zichronot section, we consider G-d's memory. What we are asking in Zichronot is, "Am I remembered? Is my life in G-d's memory?" And the answer is, yes. Adonai remembers each one of us, every single creature created in G-d's image is seen and noticed.”
And yet, what about those of us who are dissociative? What about those of us whose memory is scattered, fragmented, and traumatized, just like the Jewish people have been throughout our history?
What about those of us whose memory stops at a certain point, just as our family tree goes back only a few generations to those who escaped the pogroms and the Holocaust? Yes, we can trace some of our ancestors across the ocean to the shtetls, and we can search for the deep root systems that our people have grown from, but we know that if we do, we will only find tragedy and death.
For every one of our ancestors who has a gravestone in an intact Jewish cemetery in the Old Country, there are countless others whose roots were cut, who were murdered by Romans and Inquisitors and Cossacks and Nazis, whose bodies were desecrated, and who were never buried in Jewish soil. And yet, even as the Nazis and the Russians and the Spanish and the Romans and so many others tried to erase us from living memory, still we persevered. There are still some branches left. Our cultural memory endures, even though it is fragmented.
And yet, what of us who strain to remember? What of those of us who have high walls instead of doorways, keeping us out? Perhaps we can even see trees growing on the other side, but we cannot enter, not yet. How then can we connect to our past? Must we wander for another 40 years? And on Yom Kippur, how can we atone if remembrance is scattered and hidden like the Lost Tribes of Israel?
I imagine that Marc has wondered thoughts like these from time to time, especially around the High Holidays. Marc wants to think of himself as an apostate. If he’s being particularly edgy, he might even describe himself as an idolater. But I don’t think he is. Marc has a Jewish soul. So does Jake and so does Steven.
And as much as Marc might want to think that he is beyond atonement for the things he’s done, perhaps in quiet moments, he still hopes to atone as best he can. Perhaps some nights, Marc and Jake and Steven share dreams of teshuvah, of repentance, of making amends. With Gena. With Crawley. With Frenchie. And yet, how to even begin?
Perhaps Elias Spector, the Orthodox rabbi, might once have read the following passage on Rosh Hashanah as he spoke to the congregation from the bimah. And even if Marc was dissociating into the ether when he heard these words, sitting as far away from his father as possible, halfway to hiding deep within, the duty of being the Rabbi's son weighing heavy on his shoulders ... perhaps Jake and Steven listened, and they remembered for all of them:
“When a person commits a sin and does not turn in repentance, when that person forgets the sin, Hakadosh Baruch Hu remembers. When a person fulfills a commandment by doing a good deed, but forgets about it, Hakadosh Baruch Hu remembers. When a person commits a sin and later turns in repentance by remembering that sin, Hakadosh Baruch Hu grants atonement, and forgets the sin. But when a person fulfills a commandment and is constantly filled with self-praise because of it, Hakadosh Baruch Hu forgets it. What a person forgets, G-d remembers, and what a person remembers, G-d forgets.” -- The Hasidic Master Shmelke of Nikolsberg
Shana tovah and g’mar chatima tovah to the Moon Knight System. May they be inscribed and sealed in the Book of Life.
268 notes · View notes