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luveline · 1 day

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I'd love a wisdom tooth with Hotch; I got mine removed last Saturday and I'm in pain 🥲

You should’ve had your wisdom teeth out years ago, but you couldn’t afford it. When Aaron suggested you get them removed after a particularly embarrassing bout of pain, you’d been honest with him: you still couldn’t afford it. Stuff kept going wrong, your car would break down, or your landlord would hike the rent, and you didn’t have enough saved up to do it without worry.

So he pays for it. You don’t ask him to, you fight him on it, but he hates seeing you in pain.

“You’re my hero,” you say, mumbling through gauze. “Generous hero.”

“It’s not generosity,” he says, reaching across the console of the car to catch your hand, “try not to touch your mouth.”

“I feel dizzy.”

“I know, honey. Can take some more deep breaths for me?”

He suspects you’re not only dizzy, but overstimulated. You take a few deep breaths, and then you say, “That’s so nice.”

“What is?” he asks, regretful as he takes the steering wheel into both hands and turns the car onto the next road.

You’re his sweetheart, he means that firmly, and he’d do much more than pay for your dental surgery. You’ve been very honest with him about how grateful you are. It’s uncomfortable —you shouldn’t have needed his assistance, how unfair it is that you couldn’t afford it alone— but it’s sweet, too, to see your thankfulness manifesting itself while you aren’t entirely yourself.

“You calling me honey.”

“You think it’s old-fashioned.”

“You’re super old-fashioned.”

“That’s not very nice,” he teases. “I remember when we first met, you were so nice and polite. Now you’re abrasive.”

“I am not!”

“You’re cruel to me. What should I do about it?”

“Nothing.”

Aaron reaches over again to grab your thigh. “Nothing? That’s typical.” He pulls your leg toward him, and he gives the soft inside a squeeze you aren’t expecting. You laugh like a kid being tickled.

“You’re just bullying me while I’m defenceless.”

“Is that what you are?” he asks, rubbing the length of leg he’d squeezed apologetically. “You can be mean to me for now, then, but when you’re feeling better we’re going to have to have a talk about where my nice girl went.”

You make a sound that’s half excitement and half panic. “Do you mind?”

He’s being a little much, sure, but you’d been swaying toward overwhelmed a few minutes ago. He figures some tough love will keep and hold your attention before you can remember the pain. “I don’t mind.” He pats your leg with his fingers, frowning when you shiver. “Are you cold?” he asks worriedly.

“I’m freezing.”

Luckily for you, you’re home. Aaron parks the car and gets out swiftly to retrieve you, fonder now that he can see up close. You aren’t as out of it as you’d been to begin with, recognition and light in your eyes as you unbuckle your seatbelt and he offers his hand. “Thanks,” you say, ducking out of the car with a little wobble, “I’m still dizzy, can you–”

“I’ve got you,” he says, hand braced more roughly than he means to at your elbow.

It’s more of the same inside. You’re unsteady on your feet, he has to grab you to keep you standing, but he gets you into the kitchen at your request. His first port of call is a blanket for you.

As he wraps it around your shoulders, he’s sure the anaesthesia is entirely worn off. You meet his gaze with an undeniable love. It’s in every line of your face.

“Thank you,” you say.

“You know I’m just kidding when I say you aren’t nice.”

You nod.

“Because you are,” he says. Looking after you isn’t generosity, it’s self-preservation. He’s found you, sweet and loving as you are, his match in teasing and seriousness alike. He has no intention of treating you with anything other than the utmost care. “Are you warm enough now? It’s a common side effect of sedation, the coldness. Your dizziness, too. It’ll feel better soon.”

“Can I take this gauze out? I feel silly.”

“If your gums aren’t bleeding anymore.”

You haven’t had to spit, so you’ll be alright. Aaron washes his hands, has the honour of removing your gauze and witnessing your odd stitch, which he throws away to wash his hands again. Then he wets a cloth for you to wipe your face. It’s perhaps the uglier side of loving someone and looking after them, but he genuinely couldn’t care less. You’re just as lovely to him as you were yesterday, minus a few troublesome teeth.

“Your cheek is swelling,” he says, stroking the line of your jaw carefully.

“Well, you can’t stop liking me now. Then this surgery would be a total waste.”

He laughs. “What do you mean?” he asks, tipping your chin up.

“You pay for me to have no toothache and then we break up? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes zero sense. You’ve invented a scenario where I’d leave you,” he smiles like an idiot, “and that timeline doesn’t exist.”

You close your eyes. He kisses your nose, weary of your soreness.

“Timeline,” you mumble.

“Oh, you have something to say? Let’s hear it.”

You laugh and push him away. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Unfortunately for you, Aaron has no intentions of being pushed away from you. He leans over to give you a hug and a kiss pressed to your temple, his hand feeling a path against the ridge of your shoulder. “Please tell me if I hurt you, I know your face is sensitive,” he says.

You settle in his arms. “No, this is nice.”

He presses another kiss atop the first one.

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

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celestie0 · 2 days

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff drabble no.1 third wheeling

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, an insane amount of edging, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. drabble #1

ᰔ words. 2.4k

a/n. hello!! welcome to my very first kickoff drabble :0 i’m reaaallyyy close to finishing ch10 (which tbh i might split into three separate chapters bc it’s fucking 30k words) but i just had this silly idea for a drabble that i wanted to write. i briefly headcanoned that gojo, mina & todo all hung out once before and had a trauma-dumping session, so i wanted to explore that haha. sorry if the writing is ehhh i just kinda knocked this out in an hour.

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☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

timeline note: this is written in gojo’s pov, and it’s set between chapters 3 and 4 (so after reader first went to one of gojo’s practices for her film major assignment, but before the scene she walks in on gojo making out with shoko in that party bathroom. basically before gojo had feelings for her and also before they kissed for the first time)

—

“What? Why do you have to bring Mina?” Gojo asks as he holds his phone between his ear and shoulder, packing his duffel bag for his away game tomorrow. Oh well, unmatching socks for three days it is.

“Because,” Todo’s deep voice on the other end of the line buzzes with a frequency that is far too low for the mic of his phone to pick up with clarity, “she’s my woman, bro. And she wants to spend time with me today, too.”

Gojo groans as he zips up his bag, tosses it onto the floor nearby the door, and then flops onto his bed. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those dudes that blows off his bros to hang out with his girlfriend.”

“Not blowing you off, the three of us will just hang out together. And trust me, Satoru,” Todo’s voice drawls, “when you feel the same way about a girl the way I feel for my buttercup, you’ll understand.”

Gojo scratches his eyebrow with his knuckles and grimaces with skepticism as he stares up at the ceiling. The puppy love he’s had to hear about anytime he’s talked to Todo since the day the guy started dating Mina has been nauseating to say the least, and he’s starting to wonder if he should’ve introduced the two of them in the first place. Maybe he’s just being bitter, but no one wants to third wheel.

But that’s what he finds himself doing anyways. Sitting at a brunch spot instead of a daytime bar because Mina wanted to drink bottomless mimosas instead of beer on tap.

“Can we go halfsies?” Mina purrs as she reaches over the table to Todo’s plate, attempting to steal a piece of steak off of it but Todo shakes an index finger in the air.

“No, princess, allow me,” Todo offers, sticking his fork into meat that was so well-done Gojo could physically see it recoil from the action. And then Todo is bringing his fork to Mina’s mouth, and she’s looking him dead in the eyes as she pops it in her mouth.

Gojo sinks further down into the booth, if he slid any further he’d be laying horizontal, and his leg is bouncing underneath the table with impatience and irritance. The waiter comes by to ask him how the food is, and he says great despite the fact his arms have been crossed at his chest the entire duration it’s been placed untouched in front of him.

“Why you sulkin’ there, pal?” Todo asks, mirth in his eyes like he knows he’s torturing his friend.

This doesn’t make any fucking sense. It was supposed to just be the two of them today. A bro’s hangout. They had important things to discuss, like Fantasy Football and their Hot Ones rip-off YouTube channel idea.

“Does this place serve anything harder than this?” he asks, uncrossing one of his hands to hold up the chilled glass of mimosa that was 90% sparkling wine and 10% juice, since he poured it himself.

“You can try a different establishment,” Mina shrugs as she chews. Which she’ll probably be doing for the next two minutes, because of the well-doneness.

Gojo groans like a toddler. Todo kicks his shin underneath the table. Gojo all but growls at him.

“Just because my lady here is not interested in talking about sorority orgies like you are, doesn’t mean we all cannot engage in meaningful conversation,” Todo says.

“When the fuck have I ever talked about sorority orgies?” Gojo hisses at him. The waiter who was coming by to fill up water most definitely overheard the topic of conversation, because he spins on his heel and will likely never tend to their table again for the duration of their stay.

Okay. Maybe he was being a bit too bitter. But truthfully, he’s never had a relationship like Mina and Todo have. Well, in honesty, he doesn’t really want one like that in the first place. He’s not too into lovey-dovey bullshit, but who knows, maybe someday when he meets the right girl, he might turn into that kind of guy, just like Todo prophesied. But right now, it just makes him grumble in…jealousy? Like, oh, look, one of my closest buddies is all lovesick on a Thursday afternoon with his girlfriend who seems to not mind at all that he has had a smudge of pan sauce on his cheek for the better part of the past ten minutes. Matter of fact, she finds it endearing. What’s that like?

And then he reminds himself he’s not looking for a relationship, anyways. He’s fine with what he gets from women, and he’ll leave it at that.

Todo tries to pick up the bill, and Gojo feels humiliated by it so he asks for a separate check. The restaurant doesn’t split bills, and he ends up paying for all three.

“Mm…this is where we had our first kiss, babe. Do you remember?” Mina sighs delightedly as she holds onto Todo’s arm, walking through trees into a secluded area of the city’s park.

Gojo trails behind, his hands in his pockets, grumbling annoyances to himself. He glances at the time on his smart watch. Practice in two hours. He wanted to kill time before then, but time seems to be going even slower now.

“I remember that kiss like it was yesterday, love,” Todo says with charm before kissing Mina’s forehead. Would it be inappropriate and petty if Gojo pretended to gag?

The couple settle down with memory onto grass near a tree trunk that’s located right in front of a sparkling lake. Gojo takes a few steps forward past them until the tips of his shoes dips into the water and he makes eye contact with a duck.

He hears a lighter click behind him, and he turns around to find Todo sparking the end of a fat blunt. He watches the muscle man suck through it before passing it to Mina, who does the same and then extends her arm out towards the lake to offer it to him too.

“Satoru doesn’t smoke, babe,” Todo tells her, “athlete drug rules and all.”

Fuck it. He walks up to them onto the grass and sits down criss-cross right in front of Mina, taking the joint from her and pulls his own share of smoke through his teeth.

“I’m surprised you smoke, Mina,” Gojo tells her, the air in front of him turning cloudy as he speaks, and he hands the blunt back to Todo.

“Occasionally,” she says, “oh gosh, don’t tell y/n though, she has this crazy fear about commercial weed having flesh-eating bacteria in it, and she’d kill me if she found out I’ve ignored all her fear mongering.”

Gojo blinks at her. “Why would you mention flesh-eating bacteria infested weed while we’re smoking?”

She shrugs. “Sorry.”

“This is nice,” Todo chirps in, “my best friend and my girl. All three of us hanging out together.”

“But you said I was your best friend,” Mina pouts, “and your girl.”

Gojo has run out of imaginary gags to give.

“I mean it, seriously!” Todo says, “two of the people who know me the best, sitting with me. I love you guys.”

Mina swoons and lays her head on Todo’s shoulder. For a moment, Gojo’s eyes soften at the sight. And he feels happy for his friend. And then he realizes Todo is crying.

“What—” Gojo stutters, jaw dropping and brows furrowing at the sight.

Mina lifts her head off of Todo’s shoulder to look at him, concern in her eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just—” Todo starts, tears streaming down his face freely, “all my life, people have treated me like some really macho masculine guy. All muscles, and bursting abs, and thundering thighs, and deadlifts over four-hundred pounds—”

“Okay, we get it,” Gojo sighs as he perks his elbow up on his knee and lays his head down on his hand.

“—but you two…you two see me for who I really am. I’m just a sensitive guy who craves connection,” he says through a macho sniffle, and Mina reaches up to wipe at his tears. “I appreciate that.”

Gojo purses his lips together in consideration of Todo’s words, and he reaches out to pat the guy on the thigh in reassurance. “Let it out, big boy.”

And he does. He softly sobs for a minute or so, and Mina is lovingly doting at him the entire time. And there’s that jealous pang in Gojo’s chest again. He ignores it by taking another drag.

“You know…Todo,” Mina chimes in softly, “I moved around a lot when I was younger because my dad was in the military…for as long as I can remember, I’ve had such a hard time making friends. And sometimes, I’d even get bullied for being different, and being the ‘new girl’ everywhere I went…”

Gojo shrinks a little from where he’s sitting, realizing that the two of them are opening up about their feelings.

“But I’ve felt so happy and at home at UTokyo…I got to meet you here,” she grins, kissing Todo’s cheek, “oh, and I guess I got to meet you too, Gojo.”

He gives a nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Mina’s laying her head on Todo’s shoulder again, peering off into the lake. “And y/n, she’s my best friend. From day one when I met her, she’s always been there for me. She’s never made me feel like I need to prove anything to be myself around her. I can just be, and that’s enough. Sure, sometimes she gets a little mad about things, but I know that she’ll always be there for me at the end of the day. I think she’s the first friend I’ve had where I really understand what true friendship is.”

Mina has tears shining in her eyes too. And at the mention of you, Gojo realizes he’s listening intently. Like he needs to know more.

“I’m really grateful I’ve gotten to meet the people that I have here,” she continues, “it really is a blessing to be seen by those around you.”

Her words hang heavy in Gojo’s mind, along with the haze in his head he’s barely managing to fight off, and he feels his breathing pick up.

The two of them suddenly turn their heads to look at him, and he blinks at them.

“Well,” Todo says, “it’s your turn, man.”

“My turn for what?” Gojo asks.

“To open up, silly,” Mina laughs as she wipes a tear off her cheek.

“I—“ Gojo starts, feeling like he’s been put on the spot. He glances at his watch again. An hour until practice. “I…don’t really have much to open up about.”

“Really?” Mina asks, “nothing at all? There’s nothing on your mind right now?”

“I guess not.”

“I find that so hard to believe,” Mina scoffs, “you’re the school’s star soccer player, the best player the division has seen in years, you’re a super popular hot shot that’s adored by all the girls, and all the guys wanna be you, too.” She continues to list off these facts of his life like anyone from a mile away could read him like a book, “surely you’ve got a lot on your mind. Pressure? Worry? Or maybe you’re just on cloud 9 all the time and thinking god damn, am I glad as fuck I was born this way. That’s okay, too. Shows you’re self aware.”

“Yeah,” Todo chimes in, “whatever you’re feeling is valid, bro.”

Gojo looks between the two of them. If he felt like he was third wheeling before, now he just feels like he’s in couple’s therapy. Except the couple are the therapists.

“Uh. I guess I feel pressure,” he finally opens up, “my dad played soccer, way back in the day, and I guess I want to honor…him.” The words feel bitter on his tongue, unfamiliar and strange, and for a moment he considers why words are said at all if most are left better unsaid.

“Mm…” Mina acknowledges him, “is your father still around?”

Gojo is shocked at the question, and he answers entirely on reflex. “No. He’s not.”

It just occurs to him that Todo of all people should at least know about his father. But the guy’s not a die-hard soccer fan like most people around Gojo are, and then there’s a sad sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that maybe his father’s legacy is gone, and this was the proof. Faded away, a career cut too short to make any real change in the world. The thought has his heart physically hurt in his chest.

“Okay,” Mina chirps in again, blunt like the roll of weed pinched between her fingers, when she speaks again, “so you struggle with having an estranged father?”

“Not estranged,” Gojo clarifies, feeling chill to his bone in spring heat, “he’s dead.”

The two of them become silent at his deadpan, and quickly steal a glance at one another before stiffening in discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” Mina says, dropping her haze slightly.

Now he feels like he’s turned things sour.

“It’s fine,” Gojo waves his hand dismissively in the air, or maybe to break up smoke, “I mean, it’s not, but, it’s fine.”

“Well which one is it, bro?” Todo asks, “is it fine, or not?”

A question that has haunted him for years.

“It’s fine,” he assures them.

Conversation is normal after that, as he continues to watch Mina and Todo live in soulmate glory with stolen kisses and inside jokes that sound entirely way too absurd out of context, but the thoughts of his unsuccessful trauma dump don’t leave him. Not until he cracks a small smile at how ridiculously silly and cute a girl has to be to think that all commercial weed has flesh-eating bacteria in it.

——

[fast forward to tomorrow, game day]

“Choso,” Gojo walks right up to his teammate in the middle of the locker room while the guy pulls his uniform shirt on over his head, “gimme some of your urine.”

“What??” the dark-haired man guffaws. “Why?”

“Uhh I kinda smoked some weed yesterday, so I’m not going to pass the test,” he says as he holds his urine cup out to him. Of fucking course the one time he doesn’t adhere to subtance rules, they test for urine. “C’mon. Don’t be stingy with your piss.”

“Dude,” Choso looks him dead in the eye, “I was going to ask you for your piss. I went to a Joji concert last night.”

“What?!” Gojo gasps, “without me?!”

a/n: they blackmailed nanami for his urine

[the end]

a/n. LOL thanks so much for reading this if you did haha, it was fun to write in kickoff gojo’s pov, it feels like it’s been forever. the contents in this chapter are kinda sorta relevant for ch10, so i just thought it’d be fun to write about it. see you all in the next one!!

➸ you're all caught up!

———

taglist: @megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed @wynney @delulux3 @higuramapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p @phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @thecaptainpandabear @beabadobeee @thexmistress @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @gabriiiiiiii @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @prince-wyiilder @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @gojosimp26 @ethereally-lyann @drthymby @luv4sae @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @banenemilk @scenic236 @nanasukii28 @aquaberrydolphin @spindyl @ri-sa20 @thexmistress @hojoslutoru @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @minidrake @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @sakui1 @angelicscribe @deluloser @new-weather47 @ayoluvly @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @threrealestpussyeater @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @inniesblog @dunghirse @muchlov3ashley @myawooooooo @berranurates @leclercwifey @piercethenun @lavender-hvze @satorkiees @ynishalee @vernasce-blogs @n1n1c @gojosukuna2268 @4y3sh4 @pngjpn @inmaki @iluvgetosuguru @imjustaweirdnerd @gojonegs @bigsimpo343 @obsessed-female @rintaswife @deluluforcarlos55 @hermitkerm @iwaizami-chan @dunghirse @fantasticpersonkitty @thatobsessedreader @v4mpieres @rotteneyess @sugurubabe @strawberrygirl0 @frankie-mercury @chilichopsticks @sakui1 @ricaliscious @stxrrielle @zazajy @dl-yum @leclercwifey @onilorian @geniejunn @bsaeshell @tiny0325 @simonexox0 @mmeerraa @elenion-et-al @luvbbydoll @13-09-01 @kazbrkker @saucypeanuttt @suneee @bnha-free-writing @sataraxia @invisible-mori @aristocrrat @lovebittenbyevans @lostinthe-jojos @fleetwoodhoe @iwaijimes @nerdyrandomfangirl @trafalgarrattata @magnoliamonsterthing @samistars @certainlysyko @strangehuman101 @luvbbydoll @yuki-jjk @whereflowerswenttodie

hope u guys don’t mind me tagging for drabbles too :””) please let me know below if/when your taglist preferences change!! thank you

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b14augrana · 1 day

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Hi, would you write a reader x Alessia Russo where reader is pregnant?

‘Little Ladybug’

Before the biggest match of her career, the only thing Alessia needs is to see you.

Alessia Russo x reader

masterlist

Warnings: fluff 💝💝, pretty short but still cute!!

A/N: yeah guys not my best fic that’s for sure x hope u enjoy anyways 😇

“Less,” you whisper-shouted, creeping into the England locker room. You peered around carefully, still a bit scared of getting caught despite knowing you had permission to be there.

You turned the corner into the wide room and saw the blonde sitting in front of her cubby, wrapping tape just below her shin guards. She looked up at the sound of your voice.

“Ella said you wanted to see me?” you added. Alessia nodded, smiling a little bit and patting the seat beside her. You sat down, and the blonde wrapped an arm around you, squeezing your shoulder gently.

The stadium was loud, and reasonably so. Alessia had been looking forward to the final for ages, but you knew how anxious she was about it at the same time. Spain was a tough team, she knew that. You didn’t know much about football, but you tried for Lessi.

“How is she?” Alessia whispered, rubbing your stomach gently.

“She’s good. I think she knows what’s happening, because she’s been kicking a bit,” you replied, laughing quietly. Alessia smiled and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up.

“I’ll see you after the match. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, I promise I’ll make it up to you later on,” she continued, and you shook your head.

“Hey, don’t worry about it Less. I’m fine.”

You stood up as well, giving her one last smile and squeezing her hand hopefully before walking out of the locker room. You could hear her following behind you, and as you went to take your seat in the stands, your eyes scanned for your girlfriend’s presence on the pitch.

Your daughter kicked against the walls of your stomach again and you put a hand over the bump, smiling gently. Even she was excited for her mama, and you couldn’t wait to tell Lessi just that.

When the final whistle blew, you couldn’t explain how gutted you were for Alessia and the other Lionesses. They were so close, but not close enough.

You knew how much this tournament meant to Alessia. To all the Lionesses, in fact. Everyone could see just how badly they wanted it through the tears in their eyes.

You found Alessia about ten minutes later getting interviewed by reporters. Her cheeks were flushed red and tear-stained, but her sweet smile remained.

“There has to be a loser in every game. We fell short today, but it’s a learning curve. All we can do now is regroup, focus on future tournaments and come back stronger than ever when the time comes,” Alessia commented, sniffling a couple times between words, “I’m proud of myself and this team for getting this far. You know, we gave it our all but at the end of the day, they just had more to give. We did the most we could.”

You stood to the side, away from all the cameras and microphones. When Alessia walked away, she beelined to you quickly and threw her arms around you. With her head buried in the crook of your neck, you hugged her back as tight as you could.

She pulled away, her eyes still bloodshot. “I’m proud of you, Lessi,” you said, holding her face in your hands. She sniffled once more, smiling sadly but whispering a ‘thank you’ under her breath.

“Come on, let’s go grab my stuff and head back to the hotel so I can run you a bath. You and our little ladybug must be freezing,” Alessia said, rubbing your bump and wrapping an arm around your waist, walking you to the locker room.

She drove you all the way back to the hotel and almost immediately after you crossed the threshold of your hotel room, she ran to the bathroom and filled up the bathtub with warm water for you. She took a shower but made it quick so she could make the bed and lay some clothes out for you.

After the bath, you got changed and slumped into bed. Lessi was already there, fighting off exhaustion. “Go to sleep Less. You need it,” you spoke, pulling her hair out of her face.

“Okay,” she muttered. Her hand drifted down the sheets, looking for yours; her grip was gentle, she was barely holding on but still touching you.

Within minutes she was asleep, her soft breathing filling the room. You watched her with a content smile, and her hand moved up to your stomach, ghosting over the skin.

At that moment, your daughter kicked once again. The remnants of a smile played across Alessia’s face, and you could tell she felt the love from her little ladybug.

#arsenal wfc #arsenal #arsenal women #woso #woso community #futfem #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso fanfics #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #x reader #lionesses

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emmyrosee · 13 hours

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NO WAY I HAVE A THOUGHT HOLD ONN

I just saw this TikTok of this girl that has a bf w a lot of tattoos and she gets this colourful eyeshadow pallet from her makeup bag to COLOUR IN THE TATTOO if u get what I mean like the tattoo could be like a butterfly or a dragon AND SHE COLOURS IT IN WITH HER COLOURFUL EYESHADOW PALETTE and omg I IMMEDIATELY thought of SUKUNA it’s be such a cute interaction 🥹🥹

-Anon🥢

GOD THIS IS SO CUTE-

——

Sukuna naps. More than he should.

He can fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, for long stretches of time that you should be concerned with, had he not been doing it since the beginning of your relationship.

Your first date was not worth paying for a movie, candy and popcorn, when he merely slept the whole time. You could’ve done it for free at home.

Regardless, here you were, repeating history as he snores loudly next to you, his arms crossed as he sleeps soundly, lips parted to let out small little huffs. You sigh and grab your phone to scroll, no longer interested in the movie without having someone to talk to about it.

The first thing to pop up, has you smirking, with a girl shading in her boyfriends tattoos with eyeshadow. Granted, sukuna doesn’t have shapes of tattoos, but he has plenty of tan skin to cover.

You squeal and run to grab your palette and a brush, suddenly more excited than you realized to color in your boyfriend.

You start with a gentle touch on the circle of his shoulder, dipping into a peach that looks enough like his skin tone if he were to wake up.

When he doesn’t, that’s you’re cue to keep going. It doesn’t take long before he’s absolutely covered in pigment.

The small bit of skin between the tattoos on his chest are quick to be colored in, your brush gently dusting over his skin to apply the color. His face twitches but ultimately, he stays asleep. You deem him out of it enough to straddle his lap, allowing you more access to his tattoos and tanned skin, nearly laughing as he stays asleep, arms laid limp at his sides.

Bright pink blends into bright purple in the gaps of his tattoos, and in the gap of skin below the ink, mint green turns to light blue. You smile and clean your brush with another swirl on a paper towel, dipping into a lilac color and swirling it on the slender bit of skin on his bicep above the skin not needled with ink.

Your brush trails a tad too close to under his arm, and he scrunches his face and shakes you off. You pause, holding your breath, but you’re out of luck as he screws his eyes tight and grunts in exhaustion.

“Whyre you tickling me?” He grumbles, stretching awake and smacking his lips together. “I’ll kill you. We’ve been over this.”

“I’m not,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek and brushing a lock of hair off of his forehead. “How was your nap?”

“S’good.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, and when he blinks his eyes open to look at you, his brows furrow at the colorful eyeshadow palette on your lap, “you doing some makeup shit?”

You sink your teeth into your lip, “uhm… kind of?”

“The fuck you mean kind of? It’s a yes or no-“ red eyes fall to his arm, face flat as he eyes the colors splashed over his body, some blended in together, others just solid colors filled onto his skin. You laugh nervously as he continues to look down at his torso. “So, you want me to beat the shit out of you?”

“No,” you giggle. “I wanted to make you prettier.”

“I’m already pretty enough, don’t use my body like a damn coloring book, you freak.” He stretches his arms out, brows furrowing as he sees the full extent of your coloring, “fucking- how mUCH EYESHADOW DID YOU USE?”

“Not a lot!” You defend. “It’s a pigmented palette.”

He glares at you, “and you’ve got the nerve to ask me to buy your fuckin’ makeup when this is the shit you pull!”

“You’re the one who fell asleep in the middle of the movie!” You whine, shoving his chest gently. “I needed to entertain myself somehow!”

He catches your shoving hand into his big one, and you gulp nervously, “I’m old. I sleep a lot. This ain’t news.”

The fact he hasn’t yelled at you tells you everything you need to know, and you grab your brush again to continue. “Hey! I’m scolding you, dickhead!”

“Im listening,” you assure, popping the brush into the yellow and moving to the other tattooed circle on his shoulder. “Youre old, I know, you like sleeping, I know-“

“That was not an invitation for you to keep coloring!” He hissed.

You look back up at him though your lashes, pouting subtly, “aw, jeez- fuck you, you know that?” He snarls, and when you blink at him, he rolls his eyes and sits up to be nose-to-nose with you. “Stay out of my armpits. Do not color my face. And so help me, if you take any pictures-“ when your pout deepens, his lip curled into a snarl, “fuck you. ONE. picture.”

“You’re the best!” You mewl, peppering his face with tiny kisses. “The best boyfriend anyone could ask for-“

“Shut up and keep coloring before I change my fucking mind.”

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mostly-imagines · 13 hours

Text

There’s A String Tied to My Lower Left Rib, Third From The Bottom

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka the professional boyfriend

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader wears dresses, sexual content at the end (18+)

Dick Grayson is a vigilante. He’s a master martial artist and gymnast. He’s something of a playboy and a heavy flirt. But the claim he really takes pride in is that he’s basically a professional boyfriend. That he’s your professional boyfriend.

And pride really is the right word. He’s so proud that he gets to have this pretty girl on his arm and buy her pretty things even when you insist you have enough. He loves getting to help you take your makeup off when you’re too tired and make you laugh like it’s his job. He’s absolutely gratified that he gets to be your prodigal, sweet boyfriend that, despite your protests, insisted on carrying all five of your shopping bags for you.

You step over an uneven stretch in the sidewalk and lean slightly against Dick’s shoulder. “I’m worried the navy one is too…much.” You say, thinking back to how the blue cocktail dress fit on you, how it stopped barely below your ass.

He furrows his eyebrows with a pout, “Too much?”

You look over at him, matching his expression. “It’s really short. I mean it’s cute and I like it, but…I don’t know, this is kind of a fancy event isn’t it?”

He puckers his lips, shaking his head. “Short’s good. I like short.” Yeah, you’d noticed with the way his eyes had been glued to the hem of your dress, willing it to slip up just a little more.

You laugh, “And I’m sure you and all the old businessmen will appreciate it greatly.”

His face drops at that, not thrilled at the prospect of those, usually very sleazy, old men getting to see so much of you. “The black one’s good too.”

You peer over into one of the bags, “Or there’s the red one with the—”

Dick shakes his head quickly, “Not red.”

You snicker at that, knowing full well what his problem is with it. “Then why did I get it?”

“Just for me.” He pauses, “Or for something my brother won’t be at.” He mumbles, scanning both sides of the street. He shuffles the bags in his right hand onto his forearm so he can take your hand in his as you step into the road. “No, the black one looked great on you. And we won’t have to go searching for a matching tie.”

Once you reach the other side he lets go of your hand and he circles behind you, nudging you over to the inside of the sidewalk.

You glance down at the row of bags littering his arms and the red indents beginning to mark his skin. “Will you please let me hold some?” You frown.

“Will you please hold my hand?” He echoes, matching your serious tone with faux urgency of his own. You deadpan him but take his hand anyway. You don’t notice it, but he’s got a dedicated gaze focused on your fingers intertwined in his.

You continue on down the street, hand in hand, the warm sun shining on your necks. You pick up the pace a bit as you approach your apartment building, aiming to get the door for your boyfriend. You reach for the handle only for Dick to call out, “Don’t touch that!” followed by him clamoring like you’re about to touch a hot coal, rushing over to beat you to the punch.

“Oh my god..” you mumble to yourself, biting back a smile. The bags haphazardly fall further down his arms, no doubt uncomfortably as he pulls the door open for you, pretending to be far more eloquent than he actually was. He gestures you in and smiles sweetly at you when you give him a flat look.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at him with amusement glittering across your face as you dig for your keys.

“Not a thing.” He grins, watching with adoration as you open the apartment door. Frankly, you’re surprised he didn’t attempt to juggle the bags and unlock the door himself.

He kicks the door shut behind him as you help slide the bags off of his wrists, piling them on the counter. “When do we need to leave?”

“Uh…” he glances at the wall clock, “Not till seven.” He places his hands nicely on your waist, looking down at your lips. “You wanna get something to eat before we go?”

You muse, “This is the one with those mini stakes, isn’t it?” He nods. “No, I wanna get my fill on those. Oh, and the bruschettas! I love these caterers.”

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You break away from his gaze and turn to the counter, preparing to scoop the shopping bags up when you’re interrupted by his relentless fervor.

“Ah, ah.” He hooks a finger into the loop of your jeans, tugging you back to him. “Give me a kiss.”

“Dick.”

“Just one.” Yeah, right. You oblige him though, pushing up on your toes to meet his lips. His thumb strokes your cheek as he kisses you deeply. You break the kiss after a moment only for him to chase your lips to follow it up with another. And then another. And another. He hums against your lips, smiling wide. “Thank you, baby.”

You pull back again and smile as you stop his chest with your hand when he follows. “Ah, I’m not new around here. I know where this’ll go if I let you.”

He nods complaisantly, “Then let me.” His eyes are focused on the small space between you, where his touch lingers along your ring finger. You lean up again and place a kiss on his forehead that has him getting hopeful, only to be met with disappointment when you back away from him, bags in hand. He throws his head back with a groan just to really hammer home the severity of his dismay.

It doesn’t last too long though because the second you’re back in the room he’s trailing after you like a puppy, following you down to the couch. You roll your eyes at him when he opts to sit ridiculously close to you, though there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips that makes your act lose all credibility.

He nestles his face into the crook of your neck and is clearly very pleased when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You exhale contentedly, resting your cheek against his head. You lie idle like that for a few minutes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and casting a daydreaming gaze out the window. And apparently, he was daydreaming too.

“I wanna marry you.” He murmurs into your neck after a while.

You laugh incredulously, “Have you been drinking when I have my back turned?”

“‘M serious.” He nudges you off him so he can look at you.

You hum, sweeping his hair back from his forehead. “You’re being very…” you scrunch up your mouth to the side, “…Ostentatious today.”

He barks out a laugh, “Wow. Word-A-Day teach you that one?”

You shove at his forehead back with no real force, biting back a giggle. His eyes flicker back and forth between your mouth and the crinkle in your eyes as he grins. “I’m going to let that one go because you got me some really nice clothes today. As your repayment.” you say, running your finger over his lips.

He takes your hand, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Let me marry you?”

You sigh bashfully, “Dick—”

“Please?” He sticks his bottom lip out and gives you his puppy eyes, causing you to avert your gaze quickly. You’re not convinced he doesn’t have a superpower in that area.

You know he’s not really proposing right now, he’s too much of a romantic to do it like this. He’s just getting the idea in your head, getting you excited about it. It’s working.

“I’d be such a good husband to you.” He kisses your collarbone, “So good.” He murmurs against your skin, lips never departing. You struggle to keep your face neutral, making a point of closing your eyes in an attempt to increase your odds of success. He’s being nice though, you know. To let you play pretend right now when you know he could break your facade in a second if he really wanted to.

“Mrs. Grayson…” he squeezes your hips, lips traveling further down. “Doesn’t that sound pretty?”

It really does. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about marrying him before. He’s nothing if not husband material and honestly you really really want to hear him call you his wife. Call him your husband.

Your hand moves to his hair, petting it softly as he goes on. “Buy you a nice ring. Pretty white dress ‘n a big party just for you.” He brushes your shirt up and trails open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your chest feels warm and you can feel your pulse thrumming all throughout your body.

He slowly guides your underwear down your thighs, his lips following the hem close behind. “Come home to you every night, kiss these pretty thighs,” He scoops both of your hands up in one of his, pinning them to your stomach. “Kiss this pretty pussy.” He places a chaste kiss on your clit and looks up at you expectantly

You’re not nearly as hesitant on this as you’re pretending to be, and you both know it. But he’s perfectly fine with begging a little while you pretend you’re not lightheaded at the idea of marrying him. “I’ll think about it…”

He grins at you before going in on your core without mercy.

He’s trying real hard to land that promotion.

🩵 reblogging = supporting; likes don’t do the job 🩵

#dick grayson is obsessed w his gf #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson/reader #dick grayson/you #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing/reader #nightwing imagine #batfam imagine #batfam x you #batfam x reader

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hyperactively-me · 3 days

Text

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 4)

The ballroom was a whirlwind of activity, the air alive with a large bustling crowd and an orchestra. Candlelight flickered off the gilded walls, casting a warm glow over the assembly of guests as they twirled and sashayed across the polished marble floor.

You stand at the edge of the ballroom, the soft rustle of your gown mingling with the hum of the music. Despite your best efforts to put your little incident in the park with the Duke out of your mind, his words still echo in your thoughts, leaving you feeling unsettled and off balance.

But tonight was not the time to dwell on such matters. Tonight was about revelry and celebration, as well as matching up with potential suitors. Your parents wanted you to go in on your best foot forward after noticing you’ve been off the past few days. And so, with a determined smile, you set out to enjoy the evening to its fullest.

You mingle amongst the guests, making conversation with old friends and new acquaintances. You were introduced to many eligible bachelors, all with some title or another. Some were quite good company, while others were less than enjoyable. Each vied for your attention, eager to claim a spot on your dance card. Every so often, you looked over your shoulder in hopes of not seeing Duke Riley tonight.

Soon enough, you found yourself twirling from partner to partner, each dance becoming more lively than the next. Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of small talk and witty remarks, there was one face that stood out.

Lord Phillip Graves, with his slicked-back hair and predatory grin, was one of the most sought after bachelors of the season. He made his way towards you with all the subtlety of a prowling lion. You felt a shiver of annoyance run down your spine as he approached, his eyes alight with a hunger that made your skin crawl.

This was not the first time he had tried to court you. Despite his persistence, you had made it abundantly clear to Lord Graves that you had absolutely no interest in his advances. His sleazy demeanor and reputation as a notorious womanizer made you wary of his intentions. Yet, undeterred by your disinterest, he continues to pursue you with a relentless determination that bordered on pitiful desperation.

As he drew near, you plastered on a polite smile, steeling yourself for yet another encounter with the insufferable nobleman.

“Ah, there she is,” he purred, his voice dripping with charm. “The belle of the ball herself. Would you do me the honor of a dance, my lady?”

You resist the urge to smack him in response to his saccharine words, instead offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Mister Graves, but I’m afraid my dance card is already quite full for the evening,” you reply, hoping to dissuade him from pressing the issue further.

But Lord Graves was not so easily deterred. With a predatory look in his eye, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. “Surely you can spare just one dance for me?” he whispers, his words sending bile up your throat.

Before you could respond, a familiar, and not entirely unwelcome, voice rings in your ears.

“The lady’s dance card is indeed full for the rest of the evening.”

You turn to see the Duke standing right behind you, his expression as unreadable as ever. His intervention was completely unexpected, and you nearly raised your eyebrow in confusion.

Lord Graves’ eyes narrow, his irritation evident. “And who are you to speak for the lady?” he demands, his voice dripping with contempt.

Simon’s jaw clenches with barely contained patience, his gaze locked with Lord Graves in a battle of wills.

“I’m the Duke,” he states firmly, his voice authoritarian. “And I can claim the lady’s dance card for the remainder of the evening if I so desire.”

You watch in stunned silence as Simon reaches out and plucks the dance card from your hand, his movements deliberate and possessive. You hold your breath as he scrawls his name across the remaining slots, his actions leaving no room for argument.

Your eyes flit up to see Graves’ face twist with barely concealed annoyance, but he manages a tight, mocking smile. “Very well, Your Grace. Enjoy your evening.” With that, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

“Come,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less commanding.

Simon offers his arm, and you eye him wearily, yet nod politely anyway. As you settle your hand around his large bicep, your mind races with questions. He guides you away from the crowd and into a secluded area of the hall.

Once out of earshot of the other guests, you pull your hand away from his arm and turn to face him, your eyes now ablaze with anger. “What on earth were you thinking?” you demand, your voice low but fierce. “You have no right to act so high-handed, and in front of everyone, no less!”

Simon raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “I was merely trying to protect you from—“

“Protect me?” you cut him off, your frustration boiling over, all manners thrown out the window. “From what? From a man who, insufferable as he is, poses no real threat? You used me to take a jab at Lord Graves. How dare you!”

Simon’s expression hardens, his own temper flaring up. “Graves is a scoundrel, and I will not stand by and watch him attempt to manipulate you or take advantage of you.”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you retort, stepping closer. “Do you think your actions tonight were any less manipulative? You commandeered my entire evening without so much as asking if I agreed to it! You’ve treated me as if I were your property, and it’s unacceptable!”

Simon’s eyes darken, a flicker of something like regret passing through them. “I did not intend for you to feel like property. My intentions were to keep you safe—”

“Safe?” you echo incredulously. “And yet, on top of that, you’ve compromised my reputation. A single woman alone with a bachelor in a secluded corner— do you realize how inappropriate this is as well?”

His jaw clenches, and he takes a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. “I did what I thought was necessary.”

“Well, your ‘necessity’ has only created more problems,” you snap, pointing a gloved finger into his chest. “If you truly wanted to help me, you should have asked what I wanted. Instead, you acted according to your own whims, completely disregarding my feelings and my autonomy!”

Simon’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the intensity of your words. He had never seen you this brutally honesty before, and it stirred something within him. He stands there, shoulders rigid, struggling to maintain his stern facade; something akin to shame crosses his face. He was a man used to command and control, not to be questioned, especially by someone of your stature. But here you were, staring him down with a blaze in your eyes that he found oddly captivating. For a moment, he seems at a loss for words, his usually sharp tongue rendered mute by your reprimand.

“I… I apologize,” he finally admits, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I acted without considering your wellbeing, and for that, I’m sorry. It was not my place to decide for you.”

Your anger still simmered, but his apology, unexpected as it was, gave you pause. You sigh, folding your arms across your chest. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself. If I need your help, I will ask for it. Until then, please, respect my independence.”

His eyes search yours, and for the first time, you saw something beyond the cold, unyielding exterior— a hint of vulnerability, perhaps. It was something you hadn’t anticipated.

“I will respect your wishes,” Simon says quietly, his voice sincere. “But know that my intentions were never to undermine you. I merely wanted to—“

“To what?” you interrupt, but this time your voice is soft. “To ‘protect me’? From what, exactly? Yes, Mister Graves is intolerable, but I can handle men like him.”

Simon’s jaw tightens. “I merely wanted to protect you from anything that might harm you. The world is full of dangers, seen and unseen. And despite my faults, and no matter how you regard me, I do not wish to see you hurt.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised at that admission. “Why do you care, Mister Riley? You hardly know me, and ever since we’ve met, you’ve treated me with disdain.”

A muscle twitches in Simon’s cheek. “Perhaps I do not know you, my lady, but you deserve to be honored and protected. Forgive me for my abhorrent behavior. There is no excuse for it. I am not accustomed to this… world of balls and social niceties. I am a soldier, and in war, we act swiftly to protect.”

You blink, swallowing thickly. There was a raw honesty in his words that left you momentarily speechless. Slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your anger cooling. His sincerity shows you a different side of him, painting a different picture of the man you thought he was.

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, your voice soft and slow. “But I am not a soldier on your battlefield. I am a woman who is capable of fending for myself. And, if it ever so happens that I do need your help, I will make it known to you."

Simon’s gaze meets yours again, and this time there’s a depth of emotion there that you haven’t seen before. “You’re capable, and I admire that. But that doesn’t mean you should have to fend off predators alone.”

The words hang between you, and for a moment, the tension eases. You study his face, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you find is earnestness. It’s disarming.

“Thank you,” you say after a pause, “Next time, if you would like to help, ask me first.”

“You have my word.”

You let out a small sigh, nodding your head. “Good.” After another moment, you look at him. "I forgive you."

The tension between you eases slightly, though the air remains charged with unspoken sentiments and unresolved emotions. You turn to leave, but Simon gently takes your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You look down, his thick fingers closing around your hand. You stare at them for a moment too long, a stray thought crossing your mind.

“I would like to make it up to you,” he says, his voice hard, yet earnest.

You remove your attention from his fingers, looking up to meet his eyes. His thumb rubs over the satin that covers your knuckles.

“Allow me to dance with you.”

Humming, you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll respect your decision.” He pauses, tilting his head. “But I hope you won’t.”

You feel as though the wind has been knocked from your lungs. The uncharacteristic sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you find yourself at a loss for words.

You consider his offer, the tension between you still palpable. Yet, there’s a part of you that’s curious, intrigued by this side of Simon you haven’t seen before; you decide to take it slow, to not reveal too much to him.

With a tiny, hesitant smile, you nod your head in agreement. “Well, since you’ve already commandeered my dance card, we might as well make the most of it,” you state simply.

A flash of something like relief briefly crosses his features, though he quickly masks it with his usual stoicism. “Thank you, my lady.”

With that, he offers you his arm. His bicep bulges under his dress jacket, and an unexpected heat creeps up your neck. The satin of your glove allows your arm to glide through his with ease, fabrics pressing into one another. You never really noticed how firm his muscle is, causing electricity to shoot down your spine. The heat of his body radiates into you as he unexpectedly pulls you closer into his side, leading you to the dance floor in time for an English country dance. (y’all stay with me here, I’m envisioning the dance Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth have together in P&P 2005)

As you and Simon step onto the marble floor, the orchestra transitions into a lively melody, infusing the air with excitement.

Simon’s hand rests confidently yet gently on your waist as he leads you through the movements of the dance, his touch sending a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. At first, you were skeptical of this man's dancing skills, certain he would make a fool out of you on the dance floor, yet, to your surprise, he takes the lead confidently.

For a man as lumbering and large as he is, he is uncharacteristically light-footed when it comes to dancing. You would’ve never thought he possessed the skill.

He never let you mis-step, keeping his gaze locked on your face the whole time. With every meeting in the middle, you swore his face inched closer and closer to yours. With each turn and twirl, you find yourself inching closer to Simon, the space between you narrowing until there's nothing left but the heat of his body pressed against yours. His hand slides lower on your waist, toying with the sash thats wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the room falls away, leaving only the two of you locked in a rather sensual embrace.

And in that moment, as the music reaches its end and the world fades into oblivion, a terrifying realization dawns upon you: there's no place you'd rather be than in the Duke's arms.

part 3 < > part 5

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme #*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley

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uzurakis · 12 hours

Note

doing an ugly makeup look to see how the jjk men react? pretty please and thank u pookie pie 🙂‍↕️

REACTIONS TO YOUR UGLY MAKEUP . . ?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. geto suguru.

n. ngl nonnie i had to spend a full ten minutes in front of my laptop thinking how to do this interesting request (i didn't immediately have an idea to write it down but got the hang of it later on). no problem pookie pie, i hope u like it :0

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you decided to have a little fun and see how megumi would react to an intentionally ugly makeup look. after spending some time in front of the mirror, you admired your creation—a mix of clashing colors, exaggerated eyeliner, and over-the-top blush. satisfied, you headed to your boyfriend’s room, where megumi was waiting.

as you walked in, megumi looked up from his book. his eyes widened slightly, and he stared at you for a moment, clearly puzzled. he opened his mouth, then closed it, trying to find the right words.

"uh, you look… different today," he finally said, after simulating a hundred different words and scenarios to say in his head, tone cautious but polite; as if he’s walking on eggshells. "did you try something new with your makeup?"

you struggled to keep a straight face. "yeah, i wanted to experiment a little. what do you think?"

megumi tilted his head, examining your face with a mix of confusion and concern. "it’s… interesting. very bold," he replied carefully. "is this for a special occasion or just for fun?"

you could see he was trying hard not to offend you, which only made it harder to hold back your laughter. "just for fun," you said, unable to hide your amusement any longer.

the guy nodded slowly, still looking unsure. "well, if you like it, that’s what matters. but, um, maybe next time you could try something a bit more.. subtle?"

you burst out laughing, unable to keep up the act any longer. "baby, it’s a prank! i wanted to see how you’d react."

relief washed over his face, and you felt his tight shoulders slacking off. “god, i didn’t know what to say without hurting your feelings. don’t do that next time, babe. i was really scared to say anything.”

GOJO SATORU. his eyes opened theatrically as soon as he spotted you, and an immense grin became apparent on his face. "wow," he exclaimed, standing up and dramatically clapping as well as placing a hand over his heart. "you look absolutely stunning! ravishing! this is the new trend, right? you’re always ahead of the fashion curve, my darling!"

you tried to keep a straight face, but his over-the-top reaction made it difficult. "aww, you really think so?" you asked, playing along with a mock-serious tone.

your boyfriend, your number #1 supporter nodded enthusiastically, stepping closer to get a better look. "absolutely! i mean, just look at those bold choices. the color contrast is so… avant-garde. you’re a true trendsetter." (not the big words, guys..)

"you’re so ridiculous, satoru," you laughed at his theatrics, shaking your head.

he winked at you, his grin never faltering. "ridiculously lucky to have such a fashion-forward girlfriend, you mean. seriously, you could start a whole new makeup revolution with this look."

you playfully smacked his arm arm. "okay, okay, you can stop now. just tell me it’s ugly and i pranked ya.”

"oh, i knew that. but you know me, i can’t resist playing along. your creativity never fails to amaze me." you rolled your eyes, still smiling. "thanks for being such a supportive boyfriend."

gojo pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms warm and comforting around you. "my job, darlin. but next time, let’s try a look that doesn’t make me feel like i’m dating a clown, yeah?"

GETO SUGURU. "well, well, well, what do we have here?" you made your way to where geto was lounging when he teased, raising an eyebrow. "are we auditioning for a circus today?"

"very funny, suguru. do you like my new look?"

he grinned, stepping closer to inspect your makeup with exaggerated scrutiny. "hmm, let me see… it’s definitely… something. and colorful. very circus-ish."

you gave him a friendly slap on his ribs while rolling your eyes. "huuh, i know it’s terrible."

geto chuckled, pulling you into a hug. "hey, i love you no matter what you look like. even if you do resemble a rainbow clown."

"but seriously, let’s go wash that off before anyone else sees you. i can’t have my girlfriend looking like a picasso painting gone wrong."

ITADORI YUUJI. "ah, interesting look, babe. what inspired this? are you trying out for a new role or something?"

"nope, just felt like experimenting with makeup today. what do you think?" you chuckled at his inquisitive nature and the fact he’s totally not aware being thrown to the oblivion.

itadori blew an air inside his mouth, examining your face with genuine interest. "well, it’s definitely… unique. did you follow a tutorial or come up with this on your own?"

you shook your head, unable to hold back a smile. adorable, that’s what you wanted to say. "this was all me. just wanted to see what i could come up with."

your boyfriend reflected the smile, leaning closer to get a better look. "well, you’ve definitely succeeded in making a statement. it’s bold, to say the least."

“thanks for being so nice about it. i promise i’ll go back to my normal makeup routine tomorrow." a warmth feeling spread across your chest, relieved he was taking it well.

he chuckled, reaching out to gently touch your cheek. "hey, you do you. i love you no matter what you look like." your heart warmed at his words, and you leaned into his touch. "i love you too, yuu. you always know what to say.

"yeah," he replied with a smile, pulling you into a warm hug. "now, how about we go wash that off and spend the rest of the day doing something fun together?"

@uzurakis

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zweigsons · 2 days

Text

after midnight

patrick zweig x f!reader x art donaldson smut

summary: they both want you, and you definitely know it

etc: nsfw, fingering, oral f!receiving (kind of), patrick doesn't rlly do anything he sits there and looks pretty

a/n: A BITCH IS BACK i know u all missed my writing

word count: 959

You thought fire and ice were fitting monikers for them. Patrick was holding you up and your back was pressed against his bare chest and, god, he was warm. And Art’s fingers were gliding down your torso, long and nimble and cold.

You shivered at the touch and Patrick chuckled behind you. He mouthed a kiss onto the pulse point on your neck and your legs were jelly. “My legs hurt,” You whined as Art’s fingers played with the hem of your panties.

“I’m holding you. And you’re kneeling on a mattress,” Patrick nipped at your ear.

“It still hurts,” You groaned, tilting your head back to lock eyes with him.

His smile tilted to the side as he looked at you, “You’re such a princess.”

Art chuckled from his position. He was kneeling on the floor, fingers tracing shapes into your tummy as he looked up at you. “You really are,” He said it more kindly than Patrick, as if princess were a petname rather than a mock.

Art’s fingers curled into the lacy waistband of your underwear and he started to tug them down your thighs. Patrick’s breathing seemed to grow heavier as he watched over your shoulder. You turned your head and whispered to him, “You have a little crush on Art?”

His face grew hotter next to yours. “Shut up. Let him fuck you.”

You pat his cheek, “Sure.” You cast your gaze down to Art, “Are you gonna fuck me?”

He looked like a puppy, staring up at you with those big eyes that you could get completely lost in. “Is that what you want?” He asked as he placed a kiss on your hip.

You swallowed a whine, “Yeah.”

“I can do that.” He looked up at you, those blue eyes shining like they held a secret, and then he added a soft, “Princess.”

You let out a soft moan and he focused his attention to spreading you apart and then sucking gently on your clit. You gasped and tilted your head back. As Art worked his tongue on your cunt, Patrick’s hands slipped from gripping your shoulders to keep you up and down to slip into your bra.

“Patrick,” You whispered, snaking your hand up to cup the back of his neck.

His fingers tweaked your nipples as he tutted. “Don’t focus on me. What��s Art doing to you, baby?” His voice was low and sweet and it made you tremble.

You did as you were told and looked back down, just in time to see Art moving one of his hands up. His fingers gently placed with your folds and you whimpered, wanting more than that. “Art, please,” You whined, carding your fingers through his wavy blonde hair.

“Use your words, Princess,” He mouthed around you.

You tugged on his hair and groaned, “Put your fingers in me.”

“Good girl,” He mumbled.

His fingers stopped teasing and started pushing, up and into you. You groaned, nails digging into his scalp and into Patrick’s neck.

His tongue lapped at your clit as he moved his fingers inside of you. Your legs were shaking and everything felt melty and good. Patrick’s mouth was on your neck again, sucking marks into the soft skin.

Patrick sunk his teeth into you at the same time that Art thrust his fingers up into you and you let out a shuddering gasp. “Fuck you,” You moaned, stretching out a few of the golden ringlet’s of Art’s hair.

“That’s the goal,” Patrick chuckled into your ear.

“Shut up,” You hissed, rolling your hips with each movement of Art’s fingers.

He removed his mouth from your cunt to sloppily kiss your hips and tummy as he fucked his fingers into you. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” He muttered, this time adding a small scrape of teeth to his kisses.

You didn’t even have time to come up with a reply because he had popped up and was kissing you as he worked a third finger into you.

You felt that familiar coil build up in your belly and you scratched at his back.

“You think she’s gonna cum?” Patrick asked as he nipped at your ear.

Art pulled back and smirked, “Look at her face. Definitely. Are you gonna cum for us, princess?” It almost felt stupid, the way he had latched onto that particular petname, but all you could do was nod and let out a noise that was half between a gasp and a moan.

One of Patrick’s hands dropped from holding you (which only made the fact that he was holding you up with one hand even hotter) and reached around to rub your clit along with the thrusts of Art’s fingers. “So, so good,” He mumbled, licking where your jaw connected to your ear.

Art pushed his fingers into you once more and that was enough to have that coil in your tummy unravel. You groaned, slumping your head down into the crook of Art’s neck as the waves of your orgasm washed through you. “That’s it, just like that,” He crooned sweetly, kissing the top of your head.

Patrick finally let you go and you all but crumpled. “Is that all you got in you?” Patrick asked, leaning over you and scrunching up his nose.

You scoffed, “Fuck off. Go jerk each other off in a cold shower.” You pushed his face away as he laughed against your palm.

On the other hand, Art was licking your cum off of his fingers, and if you weren’t already fucked out, you would probably be up and ready to go again.

“Go to sleep, Patrick and I will take turns with a ‘cold shower,’” Art said, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

#my writing #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #challengers fanfic #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #challengers smut

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chaosandmarigolds · 1 day

Text

More Mafia(Mob??) leaders!daughter and Simon :p pt 2

(I don’t know manhattan, I’m making stuff up.)

“Okay, so,” you hold out your phone to the man, having pulled up the menu to one of your favorite restaurants, “Just double checking- this place can do gf, df, vegan, egg free, soy free, and what else um…” your faltering gave you enough time to look up to see his expression, still wearing that mask but you didn’t mind all that much. However you could see his eyebrows furrowed.

“You don’t have any allergies do you?”

“No.” Simon replied gruffly, taking a quick look behind his shoulder to Ivon- who trailed a good ten or so feet behind.

“Okay…cool! I just didn’t wanna take you somewhere and then you can’t eat anything because that sucks,” You shrug it off as you walk, the sun beginning to set but for the most part it was still light out, “So…Simon, do you have any pets?”

His attention is drawn back to you at the attempt of small talk, voice luring but riddled with a nonchalant smile, a genuine question rather than a groaning force in order to be polite. “One. Sheppard, he’s t’ree.”

That had triggered a whole ramble, you going on about how your childhood pet was a German shepherd who you had named Maddie. And that conversation had lingered until you both were still sitting happily at the table within the plush walls of the restaurant, sipping some wine that held more worth than the name Lieutenant Simon Riley.

All the same, as you both waited for your appetizers to come the words had died down and he thought it best to speak. “So what do you do?”

You blink a few times, bringing the glass to your lips as you wait for him to elaborate.

“For work?”

To that you nod, sipping the wine as you set it down, “My father-okay, well yeah I know, Nepo baby and all that, I should preface this by saying I’m so so super thankful for everything I’ve ever been given, and yeah,” you pause to breathe, it was a spiel you gave to anyone you just met, and normally they wouldn’t believe you, but you meant the words. “I-I know you’re just like ‘yeah sure’ but I am, I am. Anyway, my father- I dunno, he’s like a loan shark or something. He runs-well you know those MDR credit unions? Yeah, that’s my dad’s business, and I’m HR.”

There was a pause and you breathe again, dipping your gaze low to bring the wine over to you, “Anyway…yeah, aside from the flower shop, what do you do?”

Simon had listened to it all with a shaker full of a salt, either you were oblivious to the situation of your family name or you were a good lair- he thought it to be the former. “Working out.”

“I can tell.”

His eyes quickly flashed up from the porcelain plate to you, and only for you to quickly direct your gaze elsewhere. Instead of leaving it, he laughed and then nodded, “Thank you.”

“Mmhm, you’re welcome.“ your words were muffled and you keep your eyes anywhere but his face, “so um…you ever been to the art museum?”

Simon gives you a look, “The one of seventh?”

A nod.

“Isn’t it closed?”

To those words you smile, “Not if your father is the number one donator.”

(Annnnd!!! That’s all I got for right now. Toodles!)

Tag list: @blackhawkfanatic

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley #coco's chaos <3 #simon riley x you #cod fluff #cod x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty fluff #cod simon riley #ghost simon riley

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astraystayyh · 10 hours

Text

changbin x fem!reader. younger brother!jeongin. newly established relationship.

in which jeongin discovers you’re dating changbin when he catches you both kissing in the kitchen. fluffy ofc!

this was a very cute request hehe if you wish to request a drabble as well, you can donate to our palestine fundraiser! here are the writers you can send a request to! we have raised more than 2000 dollars so far 🥹

The moonlight filtering through the kitchen window is the only thing illuminating both you and Changbin’s faces. Though the light itself serves no purpose, as you’re solely focused on pressing kisses to your boyfriend’s soft lips, eyes closed. He has you cornered between the countertop and his strong body, his giddy giggles mingling with your laughter as his mouth finds yours repeatedly. His hand cradles your jaw, your fingers lightly graze the scar on his chin, in return.

“I feel like I’m in high school,” he murmurs between kisses, his toned arms holding you captive. Not that you wish to escape; being in his embrace feels like a wonder that could rival the world’s seven, at once.

“Right, like we’re secretly kissing in the library,” you giggle, your lips meeting his again as his hands move to your waist, kneading the tender flesh.

“Should we do that?”

“Why would you even be in the library? You don’t even study,” you laugh, and he shrugs as if it is the most obvious question in the world.

“Because you’d be there.”

“Cheesy,” you grin, your cheeks now aching from the smiles blooming on your face at each one of his words, as if it could only be spring if Changbin’s around.

“You like it,” he beams, scrunching his nose cutely at you, “And I like kissing you.”

“So do I,” you smile, feeling his arm wrap around your back, pulling you tighter against him.

“Do you think there’s a Guinness World Record for the most places someone’s kissed in?”

“No?” your reply is more a question, and his eyes light up as if beholding a million fireflies.

“We should do it then,” a kiss to your nose, “I’ll kiss you in,” and one to your lips, “every place in our world and—”

The light suddenly turns on, and you and Changbin break apart a millisecond too late, because Jeongin, your younger brother, stands in the doorway, a look of shock coating his face. “What the fuck?” he curses, and you glance at Changbin, who looks thoroughly relaxed. As if his best friend didn’t just catch you making out in their kitchen dorm.

“What are you guys doing?” he asks, his eyes darting between Changbin’s hand on your lower back and his obviously swollen lips.

“Kissing?” you say.

Jeongin strides over, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Changbin. “I can see that. Why are you kissing my sister?”

You do a neck-slicing motion that Changbin deftly ignores, a tiny smirk playing on his lips before he sobers up. “We’re dating.”

“Since when?”

“Hello. This isn't an investigation,” you quip, and your younger brother turns, a wide, sarcastic smile on his face. “Noona.”

“Yes, Innie?”

“Be quiet,” he says, holding a finger to his lips. Changbin shakes his head, a fond look spreading across his face.

“A week ago, actually,” Changbin says.

Jeongin’s scoff echoes loudly across the kitchen. He claps his hands, incredulous chuckles spilling from his lips as you poke his shoulder from behind. “Are you okay, Jeongin?”

“Why are you—” he brings a hand to his forehead, shutting his eyes. “This is so annoying. Why are you kissing as if you’ve been dating for ten years, then?”

“Passion,” you whisper, and Changbin giggles, hiding his laughter behind his clenched fist. “We have also been talking for…” you muse and Changbin’s quick to complete. “127 days,” he affirms, and you grin. “Have you been counting?”

“Of course.”

“This is so disgusting,” Jeongin shudders, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I refuse.”

“You can’t refuse him.”

“Why would you refuse me?”

Both you and Changbin speak at the same time, and Jeongin scoffs louder, pointing to your face. “Hyung, look at her.”

“I am,” Changbin smiles softly, and you blow him a tiny kiss (one that makes Jeongin wish to bash his head against the fridge), as you walk to the sink to retrieve a glass of water.

“She’s perfect.”

“I know. Why do you think I like her?”

“This can’t be happening,” Jeongin shakes his head.

“I’m really serious about her and—”

The sound of glass breaking catches Changbin off guard, and both their heads snap towards you. Jeongin remains rooted in place as Changbin comes to your side in an instant, grabbing both your hands and checking if you are hurt.

“Did you cut yourself?” he asks in a tone so soft Jeongin did not even know Changbin could muster.

“No, it just slipped from my hold,” you frown sheepishly, and Changbin shakes his head, placing a chaste kiss on the palm of your hand. “It’s okay, I got it,” he says, bending down to pick up the broken shards.

Jeongin sees the fond look in your eyes and the way Changbin’s gaze refuses to stray far from yours for more than five seconds. He sees how you completely melt into Changbin’s side when he stands again. You, his older sister who has always shouldered a mountain of responsibilities, from a very young age. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this relaxed around someone in his entire life.

The thought of you together seems less horrible all of a sudden.

“Don’t ever flirt in front of me. I mean it,” Jeongin points a threatening finger at both of you, breaking your intimate bubble. “And don’t you ever hurt her. I mean it.”

“I promise,” Changbin nods solemnly, and Jeongin’s eyes shift to yours. “And don’t hurt him too, I guess. He’s important to me.”

“Is Jeongin growing soft on us?” you grin, as both you and Changbin coo loudly as if you are talking to a baby and not a grown adult.

“My god, this is a nightmare,” your brother sighs as he leaves the kitchen, but as he turns off the light, you finally catch a glimpse of his familiar dimples.

He doesn’t need to say it, but he’s happy for you. He’s happy for you both.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x reader #skz x you #skz au #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #skz fluff #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin imagines #changbin scenarios #changbin fluff

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ghostssweetgirl · 2 days

Note

Hii!! I just wanted to say i love your work and i had a request 😋

could you write a fic (or hc) where ghost finds the fem!readers sh scars? like she’s sitting in between his legs and he’s holding her thighs and he feels the scars. he asks her to show him and she explains (she’s a little insecure cause she thinks he’ll judge her but he doesn’t) them and he makes her promise that she’ll come to him for help??

(if this makes you uncomfortable please don’t feel the need to write it🙏🏼)

Omg thank you sm <3 also on another note to those reading this (followers or not), I’ve been on and off on here. I’m getting to a point where I can start writing semi-often again. If you go a little further down my blog, I’m also about to start another series (it’s planned and 0% written).

It’ll be short-ish, but yeah, I’ll give it a shot.

If you didn’t read all of the above, this will contain mentions of self harm and bodily scars and mentions of non-specified trauma.

Minors do not interact

You were unwinding with Simon at the end of the night, in between his legs on the ground looking up at the night sky.

It’s been comfortably silent. Not needing much words to help each other decompress after the recent missions you’ve been assigned. Your back against his chest, his calloused fingers softly rubbing against your arm that rested on his leg.

“Y’ a’right, luvie?” He spoke softly. “Anythin’ goin’ on in that pretty lil head?”

You smile, and think about it. You take a deep breath. In all honesty you couldn’t even think of where to start. You don’t know if you’re okay. But you feel okay right now. That’s all that matters. You finally decide, and quickly shake your head. “Mm-mm. No, I’m good. And you? Are you okay?”

He sighed, his hands tracing the top of your thighs. He plays with the fabric of your shorts for a moment and rests his chin on your shoulder. “No, ‘m fine. Fine right here.”

You close your eyes and your thumb rubs small circles against his wrist, his hands’ movements slow as you feel him gently soothing over an arrangement of scars on your thigh. Some deep and overlapping each other. Some light. You shudder and hold your breath for a moment.

It was part of the reason you joined the military. The hell you had to face in your former life essentially pushed you over the edge. And it was the only thing that felt like a proper release.

You didn’t want to talk about it, really. Even though you were safe with Simon. You didn’t want to feel the shame of being judged. If anything, you knew if anyone understood, he definitely would.

But it’s still not your favorite conversation.

Ugh.

He studied them for a while, tilting his head. Not in a judging way, you managed to take a look and saw his once stoic gaze become soft, almost pained. His brows furrowed as he cleared his throat.

“Can…” he gently scoots away from you, caressing your shoulders as you lean up and hesitantly meet his eyes. “Can you show me?”

You sigh, holding your hands over the area. “I… I don’t really…”

You stutter and ramble, unable to get the words you want out.

“It’s a’right, I’ve got you,” he cupped your cheek.

You turn more towards him, enough to where he can see, thank god for the dark sky, the moon light was enough for him to get a general idea and look over without him seeing the anxiety on your face. He held your thigh, and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against your scars.

You were completely froze at this point, not in a bad way. His reaction was a lot less… well, you don’t know what you expected because you would have avoided this if you had the choice.

“It’s… from my past, and—”

“You don’t have to tell me what you don’t want,” he comforts you, pulling you to his chest.

“But what I do want,” he looks down at you. “I need you t’promise me you’ll come to me when you need help or anything. Anything. Anytime. Okay?”

“Please.”

It wasn’t like him to beg. But he needed you to be safe. Safe from bad people, from the horrors of the world and from the horrors of your own demons.

You nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

He grunts approvingly, his grip on you even tighter now and it goes back to silence just like before. The least you could do in return is offer him the same he does to you, so you cup his cheek, cradling his face as you whisper to him.

“And you come to me for anything. Okay?”

His eyes close in relief as he rests his forehead against yours and if his embrace wasn’t tight before, it’s almost a death grip now as both arms squeeze your whole body, a silent ‘thank you’.

—

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley cod #Simon ghost Riley comfort #simon ghost riley x fem reader #simon riley x fem reader

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ragingbookdragon · 5 hours

Text

Veils of Gold

Royal AU! Knight!Simon Ghost Riley x Queen!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Knight Simon being completely down to his knees for his Queen is something I hold dear in my heart

**********************************************************************

It was piss poor luck on his part that the archer had spectacularly good aim and got to him before John or Kyle could. The arrow hit the soft part of his armor in the back of his knee, sinking through and out the side, hitting against the inside of his steel armor. Instantly, he felt the coursing of some type of poison as he went to his good knee, cursing and reaching back for his bad knee. He watched through the corner of his visor as John’s claymore bit into the archer’s shoulder and cleaved halfway through his torso before he dropped.

John ran to him, dropping his sword down as he knelt. “How bad is it?” he asked, prodding the wound and watching as crimson stained through the brown leather of his glove.

“Bad,” Simon said. “Poisoned.”

“Shite. Captain!”

Jonathan sprinted over, sheathing his own sword as he lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled for his horse. “John, help him onto the horse and lead him back to the castle. Kyle, you and I will continue to scout out the rest of the enemies.”

“Yes sir,” he replied, pulling another arrow, and nocking it.

“I can still fight,” Simon griped, pushing himself up to his feet; he reached behind and yanked the arrow out, only letting out a very nasty grunt of pain. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine and you’ll do as I command,” Jonathan replied, pointing to the horse. “You’re in no condition to fight. You’ll either get yourself or all of us killed.”

“Cap—”

“That’s an order, Knight Lieutenant.”

Jonathan voice booked no room for an argument and Simon acquiesced as he hobbled over to the horse, though he knocked John’s hands away as he pulled himself up on the horse.

“I’ll scout ahead,” John muttered, pulling out his bow. “Will you be okay until we—”

“I’ll be fine,” Simon griped, pulling the reins of the horse. “Let’s go.”

***

Effectively, the last thing Simon remembered was crossing the bridge into town, panting like a dog before he toppled sideways into the freezing water below. All he could think was how nice it felt seeping under his armor and flooding over his heated skin.

***

Dripping echoed in his ears, a throbbing settled between them as pain pulsed through his skull and shot down to his leg. He grimaced, cracking an eye open, expecting to see the wooden ceiling of the Knight’s lodging but instead was greeted with a gilded golden mosaic encrusted with gemstones and marble. It took him a moment before he realized where and whose room he was in—the Queen’s.

Another drip sounded and he turned his head along the silk pillow, watching as a veiled figure dipped their hands into the water basin in the corner of the room; a woman, by the shape of their figure and it was only until they turned with a wet rag that he realized it was her.

She wore a white and gold, sleeveless gown that dipped lower in the front than he liked it too, but she looked the portrait of heraldry, especially with the golden veil that circled her hair like a halo and down her back. Slits in the side of her white dress showed her legs as she walked, and he watched her gold sandal, adorned feet with each step until she sat down on the bed beside him. Gently, she laid the rag on his forehead and touched his cheek.

“Your servants will talk,” he whispered, practically delirious and unable to tear his eyes from the sight of the gold sewn into the bodice of her dress and up where it collared by her neck and shoulders. “They will know.”

Her hum was heaven’s music as she pulled the sheet away from his leg and gently went about cleaning his wound again.

His stomach dropped when he saw crimson on her hands and his shot out, grasping her wrists. “Stop. Stop touching me.”

“Simon?” she appeared shocked, not that he had grabbed her so tightly but that his voice seemed on the verge of hysterics.

“My blood,” he breathed. “I am not worthy enough to have bled onto your clean hands.”

“Then you are also not worthy to have my white gown wipe away the sweat and grime too,” she said, all the while, rubbing the end of her dress along his knee, slicking it with dirt, sweat, and blood.

“My Queen,” he begged. “Please, I am unclean. I am too stained for your purity. I—”

“You will lie as your Queen commands and be healed under her hands,” she interrupted, giving him a stare that would have withered a lesser man.

Simon swallowed his words, a tightness in his chest as he watched her dip her dress into the jug of water next to the nightstand and begin anew, wiping his wound.

“I am unworthy of such pure grace,” he whispered, and she smiled, her eyes soft and gentle.

“You are a foolish man,” she murmured, pouring a thick looking greenish liquid into the wound before she wrapped it. “A man I admire greatly, but a foolish one all the same.”

He felt his breathing stutter in his lungs when her hands drifted up his wrapped knee to the inside of his thigh, then to his hip, where she caressed the sharp bone beneath his skin before she bent down and kissed it. “My Queen,” he groaned, feeling her lips turn upwards against his pale skin; he felt his chest flush with a pale redness at the intimacy. If anyone saw—“Please, have mercy upon me…” he pleaded. “Should anyone see you in such a compromised position…”

“You are such a worrier,” she sighed, sitting up; her hand rested upon his cheek before it gently threaded into the hair at the side of his head. “The door to my quarters is locked. No one can come in.”

Simon gazed at her, lovesick and feverish. “I do not wish for your reputation to be tainted as mine has been. You are too good for it.”

She ignored him and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. “You are loved by the most powerful woman this side of the land. You hold more power over me and my resolve than any law ever will.”

He whimpered into her and reached up, touching the veil she wore. “I yet still believe that one touch from your hallowed form will free me from all I have done.”

“Should it not, you know I would walk beside you in hell until we have.”

“I am not worthy,” he murmured, and she quieted him.

“Hush, you are the most.”

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sturniluvr · 11 hours

Text

show your pride

Nick Sturniolo x bisexual!bsf!reader

word count: 1,069

warnings: swearing, nothing else i don’t think, lmk if there’s anything i missed

requested: yes/no

summary: Nick and his bisexual best friend go to pride together

A/N: this may not be entirely accurate to what a pride parade is like as I’ve never been to one. also sorry if your names are Amelia or Bella😭 also idk if I really like this, feels kinda rushed but whatever.

❗️semi proof read❗️

Y/N and Nick were currently in his bathroom applying face paint to their cheeks, Y/N having the bi flag on both her cheeks and Nick has the gay flag on his. Y/N also had her beaded bracelet on that were the colours of the bi flag, pink, purple and blue. The pair applied some space camp lip balm in the mirror, Y/N using her favourite, juicy watermelon and stashing it in her shorts pocket and Nick doing the same with his own lip balm.

“We look so fucking good girl!” Nick said excitedly, causing a laugh to escape Y/N at his excitement.

“That we do Nicolas!” she replied with a smile on her face. They took a quick mirror selfie before they exited his bathroom and grabbed their flags off his bed and walked out his bedroom, closing the door behind them and made their way downstairs to wait for Matt so he could drop them off at a diner they’d planned to go to before the parade to get something to eat and drink.

Shortly after, Matt Nick and Y/N got in the car, Chris had decided to stay home with Nate as he was visiting LA for the week.

After getting dropped off, they decided to also look in some shops. In one shop Nick found a set of pink cowboy hats.

“Oh my god! Y/N, we have to get these they’re perfect!” Nick exclaimed, she turned around to see what he was holding and as soon as she laid her eyes on the cowboy hats she started nodding her head eagerly, they finished looking round the store and made their way over to the checkout to pay for their items and left the store, immediately putting their hats on, they looked at each other and started laughing.

“We look fucking ridiculous but also so cool.” Nick laughed, she nodded her head in agreement, the pair did look rather silly, but they couldn’t care less, it was pride and there was bound to be some extravagant outfits, from drag queens especially which the best friends were both looking forward to.

half hour later

The parade had begun, Y/N and Nick were walking up the street in the crowd, their heads held high and proud with their respective pride flags wrapped round their necks like capes and their pink cowboy hats on their heads.

Nick felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned to his side and was met with a sweet teenage girl, he smiled at her.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His protective side kicked in slightly seeing the slightly distressed look on the younger girl's face. She nodded hesitantly.

“Yeah, I just can’t seem to find my girlfriend, and I recognised you both, would it be okay if I stuck with you until I find her just so I’m not completely alone, I’ve never been to LA before.”

“Yeah of course you can stay with us sweetheart” Nick replied with a smile, which she returned.

“What’s your name?” Y/N asked the teenage girl “also I love your makeup it’s incredible!” She added on smiling sweetly.

“Thank you! Yours is amazing too. My names Amelia, and my girlfriend’s name is Bella.”

The trio continued to make small talk as they carried on down the street with the parade.

Later on, Amelia had found Bella and the couple decided to stay with Y/N and Nick and the four walked along, singing at the top of their lungs laughing.

Amelia and Bella eventually had to leave Y/N and Nick to find Bella’s mom.

“Before we leave, can we get a photo?” Bella asked, knowing her girlfriend was probably too shy to ask and they were both fans of the triplets and Y/N.

“Of course, let’s take one now before you have to go. Y/N get your hat on woman” nick yelled jokingly at the 19 year old, she jokingly rolled her eyes in response and put her hat on her head, the four took a selfie on Amelia’s phone and the younger teenagers left the pair.

time skip

Y/N and Nick had got to the end of the parade and were now in a field in front of a stage ready for the performances, Y/N was most excited for Reneé Rapp, she had the biggest crush on the singer, and Nick was most excited for her aswel, joking about trying to set Y/N and Reneé up on a date.

Reneé was about to make her way onto the stage and Nick quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and started recording Y/N’s reaction to seeing her celeb crush. Y/N started screaming the second she saw the blonde walk on the stage.

Her first song was Y/N’s favourite ‘pretty girl’ because it resonated with her so much as she had a similar experience with one of her ex friends.

“SO KEEP ON PRETENDING PRETTY GIRL” the duo screamed at the top of their lungs and laughing with each other, Y/N recording on her phone for memories.

Reneé had some a few more songs and there was a few more acts after her and the some speeches from LGBTQ+ groups and representatives, Y/N and Nick cheering in agreement whenever they agreed with something one of them said.

an hour later

The duo had gone to a nearby McDonald’s and got food while waiting on their uber to come pick them up.

“Thank you for today, it’s been amazing Nick” Y/N spoke with a smile on her face as she looked at her best friend of 7 years. He smiled back at her.

“Of course, babes, I always have an amazing time with you, you’re my favourite person, alongside Matt and Chris unfortunately” he joked.

“You love them don’t lie” she spoke sincerely, she loved all three of the boys like brothers ever since she had met them, they all immediately clicked when they had met at the start of high school.

“Yeah, I do, but you’re a lot more tolerable than them two” he laughed, she nodded knowing how much of a handful Matt and Chris could be at times.

They got home later that night, took their makeup and face paint off, got comfy clothes on and Y/N, Nick, Matt and Chris all sat on the couch watching a film with snacks and Y/N ended up stopping the night in Nick’s room with him where they watched RuPaul’s drag race with snacks and Dr Pepper and answering Snapchat replies from fans on Nick’s story.

🏷️: @imwetforyourmom @thenickgirl

67 notes · View notes

bloatedandalone04 · 1 day

Text

Chasing Cars

➪the one where bradley risks his life to prove a point to mav, and you call him out on it as soon as he gets back to base, then later at home.

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, swearing, arguing, mentions of death, mentions of crashing, both you and bradley are aviators, mentions of bradley being willing to crash just to get back at mav, family issues ig

Word Count: 3.4k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | New theme bc I hate looking for pictures that fit

“What the hell was that?” You asked as soon as Bradley walked back to base from the tarmac.

“Nothing,” he muttered as he walked past you, probably wanting to go to the locker room and forget about what he just did. What he just risked.

But you weren’t having it. “Hey,” you quickly caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Talk to me.”

Bradley stopped walking abruptly and turned to you. “What?”

Your brows furrowed and you took a protective step back, not used to hearing him sound so cold and hostile towards you. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you, so the step back wasn’t because of that - it was more so to give him the space he clearly needs right now.

“Huh?” He grunted as he stepped into your personal space again at your lack of response. “What?”

You huff and cross your arms over your flight suit that matched his, not backing down this time like you normally would to keep the peace. He did something reckless, and there was no way you were going to let him think that what he did with Mav in the air was okay. “You could’ve died,” you say, eerily calm as you stared up at him.

Bradley glared at you, clearly not liking the confrontation he’s found himself stuck in. “Spare me the lecture, baby, alright? I’ve been doing this for years, I know what I’m doing when I’m in the air,” he placed his hands on his hips, his tone still as stubborn as ever. “I know how to handle myself and pull myself back.”

“I know you do, Bradley,” you trailed off, feeling your words beginning to get caught in your throat. Less than ten minutes ago you were holding onto Bob’s shoulder tightly as you heard and watched Bradley and Pete nearly plummet to the ground, and the adrenaline was quickly wearing off and being replaced with fear and anguish. “But flying angry is not the smartest thing you can do.”

You watched as a flicker of realization flashed in his eyes, your use of his real name rather than a cute pet name you usually call him by letting him know that you were completely serious right now. “Not the smartest thing I could do? Is that your nice way of calling me stupid?”

“I’m not calling you stupid,” you correct him, looking at him with a sense of pleading in your eyes. “What you did was stupid.”

Bradley crossed his arms, “Is that supposed to make me less pissed off?”

“I’m not trying to piss you off,” you say tiredly, dropping your arms back to your sides. “I’m worried about you.”

A small scoff leaves his lips as he looks around the tarmac that was clearing out as the minutes went by. “Worried? It’s my job to fly jets,” he muttered. “Things like this can happen every time I go up there.”

You shake your head. “But it’s not your job to pull stunts like the one you did today,”

The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over his stupidly pretty features, and if you weren’t so riled up right now, you would’ve definitely made a comment on it. “It wasn’t a stunt,” he mumbled. “You need to lighten up, I’m fine.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you quickly look down at the concrete of the tarmac. “You nearly crashed,”

Bradley huffed, looking around as if any of the few aviators left could save him from this situation. “But I landed safely,”

“But you almost didn’t!” You finally break, looking up at him through blurred vision. You could see his hard gaze soften and his brows drop a bit as he kept his eyes locked on yours. “You almost died.”

He sighed, guilt written all over his face as he moved closer to you. “I know,” he finally admitted, reaching out to place his hand on your hip. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

You press your lips together as you give him a look that told him all he needed to know without you actually saying it.

Bradley wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his chest, his rough flight suit against your own making it not the most comfortable embrace you’ve shared with him. “I’m okay,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. Your usually neat bun is messy from the way you tugged on it earlier from the panic you felt, and you were sure Bob’s shoulder will have a bruise on it. “I promise.”

“Are you?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you pressed your face against his chest.

He paused as if he was trying to find the right words to say that would give you comfort. “I am,” he confirmed, stroking the side of your neck with his thumb. “I just get so pissed off around Mav sometimes. That’s not an excuse, though.”

You shake your head and pull away to look up at him, finding comfort in the way he softly wiped your tears away with his thumb. “Let me ask you something,”

“Okay,” he sounded a bit unsure as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Anything.”

You brace your hands on his shoulders as you ask, “If I pulled something like you did today...If I almost died because I wanted to prove something, how would that make you feel?”

Bradley’s eyes darkened a bit and his brows furrowed further as he took in your words. “I’d be really fucking mad at you,” he answered and your frown softened as you watched the way he processed your question further. “I’d be pissed that you risked your life for no reason.”

You give him a half shrug and a forced smile. “That’s exactly how you made me feel today,”

Bradley sighed and his shoulders visibly dropped as guilt spread across his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, stroking your jaw with his thumbs. “I know I need to be more careful, and you’re right. It was stupid to let my ego take over. I’m sorry.”

Your lip trembled a bit and you looked down at his boots, the tears finally spilling over. “You can’t do things like that to me,” your voice broke as you tighten your grasp on his suit.

He gently lifts your head and looks you right in the eyes, and you could see the adoration and guilt swimming in his. “I know, I’m sorry,” he said again, much quieter this time. “I promise it will never happen again.” Bradley leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and you could feel the way your tears continued to fall on both yours and his face now.

You kiss him back and practically melt into him, the anger and frustration slipping away as the need to have him close takes over.

Bradley holds you tight, his hands grabbing hold of your waist as he pressed you impossibly close to him. “I love you so much,” he whispered when he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never done what I did. It was selfish and reckless, and I promise I’ll do better.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “You need to…because you scared me today,”

He nods. “I know, and I will, I promise, baby,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “I love you.”

Pulling away slightly, your tears had stopped but your face was still damp. “I love you,”

Bradley gave you a smile before stepping away and gesturing to his bag. “I’m going to go put this away, then I’m taking you home,”

“Okay,” You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest as you wiped at your eyes. “I’ll be in the parking lot.”

He nodded and took his keys out of his bag, handing them to you. “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he promised and you smiled before turning away from him and making your way to the parking lot.

Words couldn’t describe how angry Bradley was at himself.

Now that the high of being in the air and going head to head with Mav had worn off, he could clearly see why you were so upset and mad at him. He hadn’t thought about anyone or anything as he forced himself to drop closer and closer to the ground until Maverick was left with no choice but to pull up first.

Thinking about it now, Bradley was too into his own head at the time, he was sure that there was no way he was going to be the one to do that, and that would’ve ended in his death. He would’ve left his best friend behind, his mutilated body, Mav, you.

When you asked him how he would feel if you had gone and done something like that, he could physically feel his heart shift in his chest at the thought of losing you in that way. He’d be more than mad at you, he’d be on the verge of never letting you out of his sight again. You are both aviators, you both knew the risks of flying and missions. Why had he put himself in that situation during training? When it really didn’t even matter?

He couldn’t imagine his life without you, and the thought of burning in and leaving you behind was one he hated to think about. The thought of you leaving his life in that way? He was almost prepared to beg you to quit right then and there.

But you loved your job, like he loved his, and the risks that came with it were high enough as it is. He didn’t need to add to that list.

He shoved his flight bag and helmet into his locker before leaving the base without saying another word to anyone else. He knew Nat would have her go at him tomorrow when he returned for another day of training, and he would let her. Because he knew he fucked up. He knew he was selfish.

Bradley walked through the doors and quickened his pace when he saw you leaning against the passenger side door of the Bronco. “Hey,” he greeted, despite seeing you less than five minutes ago. “Why aren’t you in yet?”

You shrugged with your arms crossed, and he knew you were still upset, even if you were trying your best to hide it. “I just needed to be on solid ground for a little longer,”

In the midst of all that happened, he forgot that you were also an option to be picked to fly the upcoming mission. You also had gone up against Mav today, and you took your loss maturely, unlike how Bradley did. You were taking it seriously, because you needed to, and so did he.

Bradley felt more guilt creep into his body as he reached out and ran his knuckles along your jaw. “I’m sorry,” he said for the sixth time, and he was sure he would keep saying it for as long as he needed to.

Because you are the one. You’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with, in the exact way he had been spending the last three years.

You give him a small but beautiful smile as you lean into his touch. “I know,”

Bradley reached around you to open the passenger side door, and your smile grew as you climbed in. He braced his hand on the top of the door as he leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to your cheek, watching as you tried to fight off a grin when he pulled away. “I’ll make it up to you,”

You smiled at him and he closed the door before rounding the front of the Bronco and getting in on the driver’s side, taking the keys from you when you held them out to him. “You don’t have to,” you tell him quietly as he puts the key into the ignition. “I already forgave you.”

Bradley grinned over at you and took your hand in his as he began the drive that would take him back to the house he’s shared with you for the last two years. “You know, I don’t know what I did to ever deserve you. I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he rasped, lacing his fingers with you. “You’re so smart and strong and so fucking gorgeous, every other woman in the world doesn’t stand a chance.”

He glanced over and watched as a blush took over your face and you slumped back in your seat. “Quit trying to make it up to me,” you mumbled and he laughed. “I’m the lucky one. I love everything about you. You’re my entire world….which is why I can’t lose you.”

He knew what you meant; you couldn’t lose him like that - in a way that is so easily preventable. You were well aware of the fact that you could lose each other on missions and deployments, so you both tried to not increase those chances during your work days.

Bradley gripped your hand tightly as he looked over at you, his expression one of regret at making you so upset today. “You won’t,” he said, though you both knew he couldn’t promise that. Neither of you could. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

You lean against the seat and gaze at him in a way that has him driving a little faster to get home quicker. “I love you,”

He raises your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I love you, too,”

When he pulled into the driveway as the sky was getting darker, he kept his hand in yours as he looked over at you. He could tell that you were still shaken up but a lot calmer than before, so he traced random shapes onto the back of your hand as you sat in silence.

“Do you wanna head inside now?” He asked after a while and you shook your head, lifting your joined hands and pressing the back of his against your cheek.

“No, I don’t want to let go of you right now,” you answered and he felt his heart swoon in his chest.

Bradley smiled over at you and unbuckled his seatbelt, shifting so his seat was pushed back a bit. You understood what he was doing without him even telling you as you unbuckled your own seatbelt and crawled over the center console and into his lap.

His hands settle on your waist as you press your body against his, a content hum slipping past your lips. “Is this better?” He teased, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he held you closer to him. Truthfully, he wasn’t any better than you; he needed to hold you like this as much as you needed to be held.

“A little,” you hummed, nuzzling your nose against the side of his neck where his scars are. “I just need to be close to you right now.”

Bradley pressed countless kisses to your face and jaw as you settled against him. “I need it, too,” he confessed, his words muffled against your skin.

He loved holding you like this and having you in his arms. He loved you; how could he possibly risk losing it just to get back at his dad’s best friend?

You wordlessly lift your head and cling onto the front of his flight suit, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you give a slow roll of your hips.

Bradley bit back a moan as his hold on your waist tightened a bit, his eyes widening. “Baby-”

“How close do you need to be?” You asked in a sultry voice that had him growing hard almost instantly.

He lifted his head from where it ended up against your shoulder and looked at you, seeing how your eyes shifted from longing to a more intense emotion. “As close as possible,” he managed to say in a deep voice before pressing his lips to yours.

You kiss him back immediately, moaning against his lips as you slowly begin grinding against him. “Baby,” you echoed his affectionate pet name as you deepened the kiss. Bradley let out a breathless groan when he pulled away and buried his face against the side of your neck as you rode his lap in the driveway. “Do you like this?” You asked, knowing damn well that he does. He was still reeling from what happened today, so it didn’t take much for him to get hard for you, and it didn’t take much for him to be a whining mess because of you.

“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound coming from the back of his throat, a deep growl.

“Do you want me to keep doing this?” You continued with your questions, and he knew exactly where you were taking this.

But he would always willingly give in to you. “Yes,” he nods, holding your hips tighter as you move on top of him. “Please, don’t stop…please.”

You smiled at the way you had easily made him a begging mess for you, your lips connecting with his in a surprisingly sweet kiss. “Then promise me that you will never be reckless like you were today ever again,” and there it was, the place he knew you were getting to the second you lifted your head and gave him that look.

Bradley huffed out groans as you leaned in and kissed all up his neck, nipping at certain places as you went. “I promise, I won’t be reckless again,” he said against the skin below your ear, his hands sliding up your back as you shifted on his lap.

“Good,” you praised and he thrusted up against you without being able to stop himself.

He was sure his fingers were leaving bruises on the skin of your waist as he helped guide the roll of your hips. “God, you feel so good, baby,” he rasped against the smooth skin of your neck, his breathing picking up with each passing second.

“Are you close?” You asked, a hint of teasing in your voice, but the desperation and need easily overpowered it.

Bradley nodded quickly, actually whimpering as you ground your hips against his. “I’m so close,” he whispered, his voice low and deep and desperate for you. “You take such good care of me, baby.”

You smile and kiss him, trailing your hands through his hair and tugging on it.

He moaned loudly, feeling his body begin to tense up at your touch. Each roll of your hips was met with a thrust of his as he met you halfway, trying to get as close to you as he could. “Please,” he said against your lips. “Oh, fuck, please.”

You whined into his mouth, pulling away to softly demand, “Come for me, baby,”

Bradley’s head tilted back as his body stilled, his grip on you impossibly tight as he pulled your body close to his. “Fuck,” he grunted as his body shuddered slightly from the feeling of his high ripping through him.

You tug on his hair before smoothing it out, pressing a loving kiss to his temple afterwards. “Did that feel good?”

There was another question you knew the answer to already, but he’d never not give you it anyway. “Yeah,” he breathed out, dropping his head to look back at you. “So good.”

You firmly take his chin in your thumb and index finger. “Never scare me like how you did today, or I swear you’ll never see me again,” you said, only half serious as you brush your nose against his.

Bradley quickly shakes his head, lifting his hands to tuck your messy strands of hair behind your ears. “I won’t, I’m sorry, I promise I won’t,” he rambled, the high he felt from you being better than anything else. “I’m sorry.” He repeats and pulls you into his arms again as he tries to regain control of his breathing.

“Okay,” you said quietly, kissing him softly.

“I love you,” he whispered, unable to stop the smile from forming on his lips because, at the end of the day, he had you to keep him grounded - even when he fucked up sometimes.

You give him a final kiss before returning his smile. “I love you, too,”

96 notes · View notes

occatorcreator · 2 days

Text

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

3 - Friendship Forged

After the battle, Red, Yellow, Blue, and Green make friends with Purple, in spite of Purple's own doubts getting the better of him.

One of the villagers insisted that Red stay for a check up.

“If what you describe to me is true,” they told Purple, “then there may be possible side effects of her possession. I’d like to make sure she’s fit to go home.”

“Fine then,” Purple said, but struggled to hide his grumbling, “but don’t blame me if these ‘guests’ don’t wish to stay.”

“Oh, please, when they see the welcome feast we’re preparing, they’ll want to stay!” The villager said, nodding.

“Feast?” Purple echoed, “hold on, what’s this about a feast?”

“To celebrate your victory over Herobrine and the Wither!”

As the villager predicted, the stick figures were more willing to stay with the prospect of a large meal. It took some convincing to let the Villagers take Red away for a check up.

“Relax, my villagers mean you no harm,” Purple said.

“I know,” Blue said. She lingered by the window, leaning to look inside the hut. “I just hope they don’t discover something else wrong.”

“Hovering won’t help,” Yellow said, patting Blue’s shoulder. They glanced at Purple. “Say, uh, Purple was it? Do you mind if we help with the cooking?”

“Knock yourselves out,” Purple said, waving dismissively.

Yellow smiled and bowed. “Thanks! Come on, Blue!” Yellow held Blue by the shoulders and ushered her away from the window.

Only Green remained, fiddling with the Minecraft icon.

“Don’t you want to join them?” Purple asked.

“In a bit. I’m just thinking how we’re going to get home given that portal is knocked out,” Green said. He looked around in case the villagers listened in. “You know that creature is still out there?”

“You mean the Wither? I’m well aware of that,” Purple huffed, “give it some time, it probably will float off in the Nether elsewhere. It’s a large place.”

Green shot Purple a skeptical look. Purple kept his face as neutral as possible to appear firm.

“Plus, if that way is blocked for you,” Purple said, “then I can show you how to use that block to make a portal home.”

Green regarded the icon in his hands nervously, eyes flicking to the window.

“And I’m certain that the spirit that possessed her has been purged from it,” Purple said, “just hold onto the icon for her if you’re still worried about it.”

Green’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he smiled at Purple.

“Thank you, for everything,” Green said.

“Don’t mention it,” Purple said, head lifting as he basked in the gratitude of a fellow stick figure around his age. He forgot how nice that feeling was.

“So!” Green put the Minecraft icon away. “How did you make this place? Or did the Minecraft people make these?”

“You mean the villagers?” Purple asked, finding himself smirking. “This was a joint effort between me and them, though my castle was…”

And, like that, he found himself just chatting nonstop as he led Green through a tour of the village. Talking was rather easy, much to Purple’s surprise. He felt like a wise sage, imparting knowledge to a curious and willing pupil. Green wasn’t the only one with questions; they ran into Blue and Yellow while cooking, and they too decided to follow Purple around with their own set of questions.

Purple quickly learned that these three had developed preferences in the single day they had played Minecraft. Green had a keen eye for design and building, offering way too many suggestions to improve Purple’s buildings. Blue favored farming and cooking and really wished to learn about potions, while Yellow took to redstone and suggested helpful contraptions for the village. They were earnest, sheltered, and nothing like the jaded teens at school.

I wonder if these dorks could even survive high school, Purple thought in amusement.

It did leave the question about what Red would be interested in, had she not been possessed. And with thoughts returned to their friend, the three became anxious.

“I’m sure they’re done by now,” Purple said, leading them back toward the direction of the hut.

As they retraced their steps, they spotted Red in the middle of a crude animal pen, petting the cows and the pigs.

“Aw, these ones are so cute,” she cooed. She looked toward an empty space, grinning as if she was looking at someone. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Um, who is she talking to?” Yellow asked, scratching his head.

“Spirits,” the villager beside the gate said, “or what she believes to be spirits.”

“Excuse me? She’s hallucinating?” Green balked so loudly that it startled Red.

“Hallucinating?” She repeated, looking worryingly from her friends to the empty air.

“Oh, don’t fret about it. Side effects are to be expected after a possession from Herobrine, and luckily this one is minor,” the villager said. They went up to Red with a metal bucket. They milked a cow and gave the bucket to Red. “Take a regiment of 3 buckets of milk daily for a week, and the symptoms should fade.”

Red looked down at the bucket, frowning.

“And if seeing spirits still persists after that, come see me again,” the villager added, patting her back. “And no skipping a dosage, got it?”

“We’ll hold her to it,” Blue said.

The group left Purple’s side to crowd around Red, chittering and asking of her health. Purple gave them some distance, but couldn’t help but listen in.

Spirits, huh, Purple thought, I didn’t see any online guides mentioning that. I heard of Herobrine, but he wasn’t in the game, not really. Did Alana mod the game?

His chest tightened at the thought. If something could be added to the game that could make people see “ghosts”, then why couldn’t someone add a way to stop aging?

Purple’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a caldron being hit.

“Soup’s on!” A villager shouted, “Eat up!”

“Oh boy, I’m starving!” Red said. She gave the cow one last head pat before vaulting over the fence. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

“Not fair! You're cheating!” Green exclaimed and, with a burst of energy, he, Yellow, and Blue came running after her in an impromptu race.

She got her good cheer back quickly, Purple thought, blinking as he walked up the stairs after them. A dining table was constructed in the center during the cooking, filled with all the Minecraft dishes available. Of course the villagers made nice color-coded seats for their guests of honor, with a throne at the end for Purple.

Purple, trying to shake the creeping funk that threatened to ruin the mood, strutted to his spot and sat down with Green and Blue at his right and Red and Yellow at his left. Villagers took their own seats further down, passing bowls around.

“Wow, these are so good!” Red exclaimed as she took a bite of bread.

“Yeah, you were missing out from the tour earlier,” Blue said, “Purple’s got a nice place!”

“Lord Purple,” a villager shouted, “could you and your guests tell us all about your battle today?”

Purple took a sip of water and nodded. “Well, I was going into the Nether to collect some… resources, when I heard a sound…”

From there, the group partook in stories, questions, and then just silly jokes and anecdotes. Purple quickly learned that Red was the clown of the group, quick to make a pun and run her mouth. She had a soft spot for the animals too, avoiding most of the meats aside from fish upon reading its descriptions.

The conversation was lively and Purple found himself chuckling at some of their antics.

“You gotta teach me potion making!” Blue said as Purple corked open another water bottle.

“Maybe next time,” Purple promised. He raised his glass. “A toast then?”

The others raised their glasses.

“To a new friendship!”

The four beamed back at him.

“‘To a new friendship!’” They shouted in unison, clinking their glasses together.

This was nice. Pleasant. For the first time in a long while, Purple felt truly joyful.

I could lead them on adventures and teach them all the tricks I’ve learned, he thought. Their curiosity and joy of the game, despite the harrowing ordeal, was infectious, and Purple wanted to recapture that feeling again. Just like when he and mom were building the castle and —

“Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”

Chestnut’s words came to mind without warning. Like a thunderstrike, his good mood vanished in a puff of smoke so painful and sudden that it startled him. He froze, the scene before him slowing to a crawl and forcing him to observe it with fresh eyes. Delicious food turned to ash in his mouth and looked just as appetizing. The festive crowd turned from bubbly to oppressive and noisy.

The stick figures smiled and laughed with each other as they toasted, but Purple now found their laughter annoying and smiles too wide. When Green looked at Purple and saw the visible change of mood, his smile faded.

“You alright?”

No, Purple scowled at Green’s concern.

Out loud he said. “I’m tired,” he said, “I need to retire for the night.”

He left the table, pushing past the villagers coming by with more food.

“Lord Purple?”

“Purple, wait!” Green called out.

“I’m not in the mood. I’m tired,” Purple hissed. And it was true. It was like he was drained of battery. His limbs were stiff, and inventory items weighed him down with every step.

How could he partake in joy like this? How could he deserve to have good meals when his mother will never eat with him ever again? How could he be proud of his accomplishments when was too weak to fight Red’s possession the “proper” way? How could he bother to make friends with them when all his friendships crumble to dust in the end?

“But, we need to go home, remember?” Green pointed out.

“Unless you want them to stay the night?” a villager added, unhelpfully.

Right, Purple did not want them to stay. He marched back and stuck his hand out to Green for the Minecraft icon. He climbed to a distant spot from his castle and made the portal frame, lit it, and tossed the icon back to Green.

“When you enter, you need to make another portal in this formation,” Purple said, “when you do, light the frame just like I showed you, and it will take you to where you need to go. Now, if you don’t mind.”

He marched past Green and Red, ignoring how the group stared at him as he retreated to his throne room.

Just get away. Get away.

When he collapsed on his bed, he instantly fell into a dreamless sleep.

“Lord Purple?”

Purple groaned and waved the villager away.

“Let your lord sleep,” he grumbled, turning away.

“My lord, you’ve been holed up in your castle for a month,” the villager said, “and we haven’t seen much of you. You’ve not fallen ill, have you?”

“‘m not sick,” Purple said, “I’m just tired.”

“You’ve been tired for a very long time.”

Purple buried his head in the pillow, feeling terrible. It wasn’t like the villagers were wrong; this was the worst fugue he experienced since his mother’s burial. The sour end to the feast with those stick figures ended up coinciding with his birthday week. The realization that he was another year older, with only himself and a bunch of video game NPCs to celebrate it, left him with no energy to leave his bed. His mother wouldn’t be there to see him, to share gifts and spend time with him. He had no friends his age to invite, and thinking of those stick figures he met only hammered in how absolutely alone he was.

As such, he spent his birthday laying in bed, crying. He knew he was breaking his promise to his mother to take care of himself, but how could he keep going knowing he had a future of more lonely birthdays and solitary holidays?

What's the point of trying anymore, Purple thought, if I am always going to feel this way?

“You also have visitors here,” the villager cut through his ruminating thoughts, “They want to see you.”

That got Purple to pull himself up from his bed. It was most slow and painful, as his fatigued body struggled to prop himself up. He shot a confused look at the villager.

“Who’d be visiting me at this hour?”

The villager quirked an eyebrow in return. “Your friends from the Wither battle.”

“Wait, they came to visit?” Purple asked, eyes widening further as he straightened up.

As if on queue, the door to his chambers knocked wildly.

“Hey, Purple, it’s us!”

Purple let out a groan, recognizing Green’s chipper voice.

Why are they back? He thought, covering his eyes, it’s been a month! I thought they'd forgotten about me…

“Can you send them away?” Purple groaned.

“I will try,” the villager sounded unsure. Purple heard them walk back, opening the door, only for the door to be slammed open as the gang burst through the door.

“The hell?” Purple jumped to his feet, shocked to find his poor villager flattened by the doorframe and four eager stick figures crowding before him.

“Rise and shine!” Red greeted, waving.

“What are you all doing here?” Purple snapped. He didn’t care for decorum at the moment, all he felt was irritation at the sight of their chipper faces.

They at least looked sheepish about their intrusion.

“Well, we wanted to follow up on you,” Yellow pointed out. “Sorry we took so long! We tried earlier, but your villagers said you were too sick for visitors.”

“We sent them a soup recipe for you!” Red said “Did you like it?”

Purple nodded even though he didn’t know what either of them was talking about. The month cooped up in the castle was a blur, and he had no memory of them visiting or eating any soup. Or much of anything, come to think of it.

“Plus, you said you’ll teach us how to brew potions,” Blue said, continuing on, “remember?”

“Yes, but,” Purple started, “it’s been awhile…?”

“I know. We would have visited a little more,” Green said, “but now we’re here. And you’re…” he paused as he actually took a good look at Purple and his room. “…feeling better, I hope?”

Purple shrugged. “Sort of,” he grumbled, “but I can’t teach you today.”

“Are you still under the weather?” Red asked, having the gall to sound so down. All four visibly deflated, their eagerness fading into sadness and concern.

The sight of it made Purple both rankle from and clamor for their attention. A dual desire for their concern twisted and tumbled with the urge to be left alone to continue sleeping. He really didn’t know which he should follow.

“I’m not sick anymore, really. It’s more so that I’m… out of supplies,” he lied, “I didn’t get any time to stock up. Given that I was in bed for a good while.”

To that, they perked up. Green grinned widely at Purple. “We could get you some!”

Wow, Green just offered a nice way to get them off his back, but he did still need to play it up.

Purple turned away, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to do that, it’s such a long list,” he exaggerated.

“No problem!” Yellow said, “I bet you could give us 100 items and we’d get it all to you in under ten minutes.”

“Is that so?” Purple remembered their conversations and his observations. These four were rather competitive; they loved to boast and heckle. Oh, this would be very easy.

“Very well, I bet I can add a little incentive,” he said, pulling out his list of potion ingredients from a chest nearby his bed. “This is what I need. The first one to come back here with all the items on this list will be the lucky one I tutor in the secret art of potion brewing.”

There it was, the manic look in each and everyone of them. These were sticks determined to win.

“Got it memorized?”

The group nodded in unison.

“Then chop chop, timer’s ticking,” Purple said, clapping.

At that they proceeded to scramble out the door with shocking violence. Yellow and Green were elbowing each other out the door, while Blue sharply shoved Red into the villager just as they pried themselves free of the door.

“Sorry!” Red bowed before tearing off, “I’ll get you for this Blue!”

There, Purple thought, dusting his hands and laying back on his pillow, gets them out of my hair for a bit.

“Here’s everything!”

Blue dumped a bunch of potion ingredients. Given that Purple’s inventory was full, the items piled on him, floating, but the sound of her entrance shocked him out of his doze.

“Uh? Huh?” Purple blinked, looking around for the others. “How did you-?”

“I may have pulled some tricks on my opponents,” Blue said, rubbing her arm bashfully. “Honorably, of course!”

“Honorable trickery?” Purple said, eying each item. “That’s an oxymoron.”

“Look, if I happened to dare Red to tame a wild horse or ask Yellow what he would make with glowstone dust,” Blue said, “it’s not my fault they got distracted and wasted their time elsewhere.”

The sour mood eased as he smirked at Blue for her cunning. How unexpectedly sly! Maybe he was too quick to brush them off earlier.

“And what of Green?”

To that Blue paused, looking rather embarrassed. “I told him he forgot to grab ender pearls for the ingredient list,” she said.

“Lying?” Purple let out an exaggerated gasp of horror. “Color me shocked, I didn’t think that would qualify as an ‘honorable trick.’”

“Yeah, but-”

“I knew you were full of it!” Green snapped, appearing suddenly. He marched up, pointing a finger at Blue while looking heavily bruised, no doubt from his scraps with angry Endermen.

“What? I thought it was true!” Blue whistled.

“Bullcrap!” Green tossed his stuff down. “Purple, you can’t let this cheat get the win!”

“I dunno,” Purple said, “I didn’t give any rules on how you were to get it, just to get it.”

Green gave the most amusing irritated reaction. Purple needed to stifle the laughter bubbling in his throat.

But then, Green’s shock turned to scrutiny, then into a smug smile.

“Well, she can’t win anyways,” Green said, pointing at the pile, “there’s no nethwart!”

“What?” Blue sifted through the pile and sure enough, no netherwart. “But I collected it- oh no!”

She gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth.

“What?” Purple asked.

Of all the things Blue said next, Purple wasn’t prepared for it.

“I ate it all!”

“You what?” Green shouted.

But Purple couldn’t speak, for he fell off his bed and onto the floor cackling.

Purple didn’t know how these four stick figures wormed their way into his life, but they managed to carve a space, bit by bit.

At first it was only a once a month visit. Sometimes, they bumped into each other while out in the Minecraft world; other times, they showed up randomly on Purple’s desktop. Then it became every two weeks. Then once a week.

Alana quickly caught wind of new stick figures visiting her desktop unannounced, and she was annoyed with Purple. She instated a rule that visits were to be strictly over the weekends and that they were not to touch her files. The gang were amenable to this and ended up visiting Saturday or Sunday to meet up, trade with the villagers, and play with Purple on the desktop.

One day, Purple was invited to visit the color gang’s computer. It was initially to judge some impromptu build completion, but ever since, Purple ended up visiting their desktop every Wednesday to hang out or play games. Windows was a different experience than Purple’s Mac. For one, their Animator, aka Alan Becker, was more present on the computer than Alana was, but he was fine with Purple visiting whenever he felt like. Sometimes he joined in their play, other times he just kept to himself and didn’t bother them much.

It took a long time for Purple to admit this to himself, but he was glad that he became friends with Red, Blue, Green and Yellow.

That didn’t mean it was all sunshine and roses.

The four were hyper competitive and loved to fight. Way too much, in Purple’s opinion. They got up in arms over such little things. Even Blue, who opted for taking a peaceful approach when possible, was quick to join in a fray. Purple found himself either stomping out potential skirmishes or letting them tussle it out of their system. Purple wondered if Navy had met them, would he try to coax him to be more like his friends?

The thought of their similarities to Navy plagued him. It didn’t help that of the four, he and Green got into a lot of frequent clashes when they were out adventuring. Green seemed to be a de facto leader of the group, and haughty. Purple found Green the most vexing; some days he went along with Purple’s ideas, and other times Green wouldn’t stop nitpicking them.

And Purple learned the hard way that if Green was crossed enough, he would raise a sword against him.

They were in the middle of making a build, Purple and Green already started with an argument on either building a pagoda or a castle. When neither could settle the dispute, Blue suggested building on the castle on one side and the pagoda on the other. That worked for a bit, until Purple discovered that Green’s castle cut on his side where his pagoda should be. Purple tried to mine down the walls to make room, causing Green to come by to stop him. They argued and argued, only stopping when Green pointed his sword at Purple.

“Green! No!” Blue scolded, forcing Green’s arm down. Purple could see Green’s arm strain, glare not leaving Purple’s for a moment.

How that glare reminded him of Navy…

“That’s it, we’re done here,” Purple said, dropping his materials and marching away.

“Wait, where’re you going?” Red asked as Purple pushed past her.

“Home. And don’t bother coming this weekend or any other weekend after that,” Purple snapped.

“Wait- why?” Yellow balked.

The question, so simple and yet so stupid that Purple had to stop and look back at them.

“Why? You raise a sword at me and ask me why?” Purple yelled, “I’m not going to be friends with people who’ll raise a sword against me over a stupid build!”

The gang looked between him and the others in complete horror and shock. Green stared at his sword, slowly blinking as though it had only occurred to him what he had done.

“But… fighting is part of the game!” Red said. “I mean, we’ve fought with swords before, and you weren’t bothered by that?”

“I WAS bothered!” Purple said, “You have no idea how much it bothers me with how violent you all get! You guys are on the cusp of violence half the time, and it’s scary!”

Red, Blue, and Yellow exchanged an unreadable look. Then, Blue tentatively stepped up, hands clasped.

“Why didn’t you let us know that it bothered you before?”

“It was obvious!” Purple snapped, stomping the ground. He deflated a bit when he saw Blue flinch back. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence before Blue continued. “We didn’t notice, honest! I know we’re easy to rile up, but if you told us that this bothered you so much we’d try harder to do better.” She rubbed her arm. “We probably could have avoided this if you had.”

“Plus, don’t let yourself off the hook,” Yellow added, “I mean, you kept riling up Green over this build instead of dropping it, and talking over him whenever he said anything.”

Purple rankled and pointed a finger at Yellow. “So? That doesn’t mean I deserve to have a sword pointed at me!”

“I’m not saying that,” Yellow said, raising his hands in defense. “I'm just being honest about how I feel- you dislike how we fight each other, and I dislike that you aren't clear about how you feel. It didn’t need to come to this point.”

“We’re your friends,” Red said, though with a questioning lift to her tone, “surely you should feel safe enough to tell us these things?”

No, I don’t, Purple thought, but he couldn’t get himself to say it out loud. He hated that, right now, he was proving them right. Hated that he always felt the need to clam up and hide his true feelings. Hated that he was being put on the spot. Hated how nervous and hurt they looked when he kept saying nothing.

He looked to Green, who had not said a word the entire time. Green stared down at his sword, muted and contemplating. When he looked up to see Purple’s gaze on him, he let out a nervous sigh and dropped the sword to the ground. The others turned to him upon hearing the clatter.

“Green?” Blue asked, but Green didn’t say anything. Very slowly he walked up to Purple, stopping only when Purple felt his foot move a step back.

“I’m sorry,” Green said, “I let my temper get the better of me. I shouldn’t have raised my sword at you over an argument over a build.”

Purple looked down at their feet. “You are aware that could have hurt me,” he said, quietly, “Killed me if you were careless.”

“I-” Green blanched, “No, I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I didn’t know our fighting bothered you that much.”

Purple looked down at Green. His eyes were hidden, and his normally confident stance subdued and ashamed. Whatever vindictive thought Purple had about leaving or telling him off vanished.

I don’t want to be like my mom, making excuses for Navy, Purple thought, but I’m not doing myself a favor in ditching them.

He should give them a second chance.

“And Green? I’m sorry too, for not explaining how I felt earlier,” Purple said, looking at Blue, Red, and Yellow too, “let me be honest now: I don’t want you to fight like that. Swords and TNT shouldn’t be drawn or thrown over something as trivial as builds. I don’t want to ever feel like I’m going to get hurt if I did something wrong.”

“We will work on that, starting right now,” Yellow stepped up, “No matter how difficult it is, we’ll do better! We won’t fight like that again.”

“Promise?” Purple asked.

Yellow nodded and Blue stepped up. “Yeah, we promise.”

“But you’ll need to give us grace,” Red said, “We like sparring, but we’ll spar only when it’s appropriate- not when we’re angry.”

“Well, a spar’s different than a fight,” Purple said, “I just… I’ve seen what fighting like that leads to, arguments and fists.” His head drifted down. “It hurts people more than you think.”

It was the closest to voicing his mother and father’s whole affair to them. He should tell them, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Then, can we still hang out?” Green asked. He blinked rapidly, and Purple saw tears forming.

Purple looked down at Green, acknowledging the hopeful look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Purple nodded and opened his arms for a hug. “See you on Saturday.”

He wasn’t prepared to be ensnared in a group hug as the others joined Green in hugging them, but their embrace felt comforting if a bit tight.

I just hope I’m not repeating my mom’s mistake.

#occatorart #alan becker #animator vs animation #animator vs minecraft #second family au #ava purple #ava green #ava red #ava blue #ava yellow

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