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milf-murdock · 3 days

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The Accident

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Simon gets the call that you’ve been in an accident and are in the hospital. Warnings: Health scare, mention of hospitals, accident (non graphic), brief mention of injuries (non graphic), hurt/comfort, Soft Simon A/N: This piece is dedicated to a very sweet anon who has been through a lot. Anon, I hope this brings you some comfort <3 I’ve also decided to submit it to @glitterypirateduck's May Writing Challenge! This is one of my favorite tropes, so I hope you all enjoy! Special thank you to @sim0nril3y for taking a look and for all the support

The knife glides effortlessly through the tomato, the metal utensil familiar in Simon’s grip. He makes quick work of the produce, fingers moving rapidly and precisely. “Knife skills aren’t just for the field,” he chuckles to himself as he adds the chopped remains to a bowl before turning his blade on a shallot.

Just as he slices into the root, the clattering vibration of his phone against the countertop interrupts. Simon frowns at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. Not many people had this number; he wasn’t one to get stray phone calls, which is exactly how he likes it. He has half a mind to send it to voicemail, but something tugs at his edges. At the last second he swipes across the screen and raises the phone to his ear. The line is empty for a moment.

“Simon?” The sound of your hoarse voice has Simon’s spine straightening, instantly on high alert.

“What’s happened.” The sharp words come out more like a statement than a question. Simon’s heartbeat quickens.

“I’m okay,” you start, but your wobbly voice betrays you. "But there was an accident—" Simon is in motion. Dinner is forgotten on the counter as he heads for the door, stepping into his boots on the way.

“Where are you?” There’s a commotion in the background, some kind of beeping that Simon can’t make out. He catches your hesitation as you wait to reply.

“Love. Where. Are. You.” His words are clipped, and for a split second he fears the phone might actually splinter in his hands given how hard he’s clenching the device.

“I’m in A&E. I—the ambulance just brought me here.”

Simon’s world tilts before him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in deep. One single stabilizing breath is all he allows himself before opening his eyes, resolute determination clear on his face as a decade of training takes over.

“I’m on my way.” The phone clicks off as he grabs the keys off the hook by the door and rushes to the car.

The drive is a blur; he doesn’t pay attention to how fast he’s going, or what color the stoplights may be. Traffic laws are relative—he’s a man on a mission. His sole focus is getting to you. His heart pounds in his chest as he navigates the final turn, the hospital finally coming into view.

The car barely comes to a full and complete stop at the entryway before Simon’s door flies open.

“Sir, you can’t park here!” A disgruntled attendant calls out to him as he exits the vehicle, but Simon doesn’t even slow down, stepping around the irritated employee before barreling through the hospital entrance.

Only to be brought to a halt at the open lobby before him.

Shit. He hadn’t even thought to ask what room you were in. The frustration intertwines with the panic, and Simon has to force it down.

He’s here. He’ll find you.

And so Simon finds himself at the mercy of the kind, elderly receptionist, who seems to be taking her sweet time locating your information.

Simon tries not to crack the counter beneath his grip, foot tapping against the ground in irritation. You could be in surgery, you could be bleeding out, any number of things could be happening right this moment, and there is nothing he can do. Simon silences these thoughts, keeping the panic at bay. “Keep it together, lieutenant,” he reminds himself silently.

The receptionist, Shelley, her name tag reads, is unfazed by his erratic state, eyes squinting as she adjusts her glasses and leans back from the screen. Simon runs a hand down his face, using every ounce of self control he has to keep up a semblance of propriety.

“Ahh,” Shelley announces triumphantly. “Here they are! I found them.” She turns her gaze to the hulking man in front of her, taking in his large form and tentatively eyeing the tattoos along his forearm. “Sorry, what was your relation to the patient again?” She asks, a note of uncertainty laces her tone.

“I’m—” he hesitates. No words come to the tip of his tongue. He’s not a boyfriend for christ’s sake. Not your husband, though he wished more than ever he could use that word right now.

“Spouse? Partner?” Shelley raises an eyebrow, trying to help fill in the blanks here.

Simon swallowed hard. “Yeah, partner. Just, can you tell me where they are? Please.”

He’s not sure what comes over him as he tacks on that final plea. The desperation is clear in his words, but he couldn’t care less. Fuck it, he is desperate. Desperate to see you. Desperate to know you are okay—see it with his own eyes, feel your hands in his.

Shelley’s pointed gaze turns to one of sympathy. “Room 315, dear. The lift is to the right.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before Simon’s in motion once more. No time for the lift, he thinks to himself as he heads to the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor. Brown eyes frantically scan every room number as he searches for yours before finally finding the correct digits outside the room furthest down the hall. The metal of the door handle is cool beneath his touch as he pushes open the door, charging into the room.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, eyes frantically scanning your body, taking stock of each and every visible injury. He can hardly control the wave of emotions that threaten to pull him down as he takes in your bruised and bandaged appearance.

They’ve already set your arm in a sling, and there’s a large bulk encompassing your entire right leg, the bulk of it obvious even under the thin hospital blanket. An array of cuts and scrapes mar your perfect face, and the sudden onset of pure, unadulterated rage threatens to swallow him whole.

‘I’m going to kill them,’ the words echo in his mind–a dozen violent deaths planned out for whoever did this to you.

“Simon,” your hoarse voice calls out to him, but he can’t hear you over the sound of the roaring in his head.

‘I’m going to hunt them down. And I’m going to fucking kill them for this.’

“Simon,” you say his name louder, firmer, and attempt to sit yourself up. Pain radiates through your body, piercing through the haze of pain meds, and you can’t help the cry of pain that escapes your lips.

That is what pulls Simon out. On instinct, his feet move towards your bed, hand reaching out to clasp around your free hand.

Your lower lip trembles. “Simon.” The word is pitiful on your lips–a plea, a prayer, a cry for help.

It’s enough to pull Simon from the depths of this rage–revenge can wait.

“I’m here.” Simon’s voice wraps around you like a warm blanket, and the dam breaks, tears flowing fast and freely. “It was awful,” you gasp out between sobs. Simon makes soothing shushing sounds as he holds your hand tight in his own, his other hand reaching up to gently brush the tears away, taking care to avoid the scrapes that litter your skin as you recount what details you can remember of the accident.

“Shh, love, it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “‘M sorry I wasn’t there, babe.” Bile threatens to rise in the back of his throat as the guilt settles in.

“Should’ve been there, should’ve never left your fucking side.” He stares at the layers of gauze wrapped around your leg, hidden beneath the thin blanket.

“Simon. Look at me,” you insist, waiting for those brown eyes to turn back to you. “Don’t go down that road, Si. There was nothing you could have done to stop this.”

“You don’t know that,” he bites back. Simon immediately regrets the harshness of his note. “You don’t know that,” he tries again, softer this time. “Should’ve been there.” He runs a hand over his face, the adrenaline is fading, causing the events of the past hour to finally catch up to him. He exhales sharply and looks back up at you, eyes determined.

“But ‘m here now. It’s over. I’m here.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “And I’m not going anywhere, love.”

True to his word, Simon stays by your bedside the entire three day stay in the hospital. He denies your pleas to go home and sleep in his own bed, insisting on sleeping in the rough, uncomfortable hospital recliner. Not only was the furniture laughably small for a man of his stature, but after the first night, Simon is convinced it was designed as some kind of long-term-torture device. Not once does he complain though, dismissing your worries with a casual wave of his hand. “Slept in worse conditions in the field, love. This beats a forest floor.” Though by night two, Simon isn’t so sure.

He’s always struggled with nightmares, but those nights in the hospital, his dreams turn to something worse: losing you in a car accident. The scene replays over and over in his mind’s eye until he’s woken up with a start, covered in sweat, and gasping for air. His eyes instantly lock on to the vital signs monitor above you, watching the thin green line of your heartbeat bounce up and down in a steady rhythm. He slows his own breathing down to match pace with yours, staring down at you as you sleep soundly. He watches the subtle rise and fall of your chest, further confirmation that you’re alive.

When he finally gets to bring you home, he acts as though you’re made of fine china, driving ten under the speed limit. He carefully guides you into the house, hands ready to catch you as you struggle with the metal crutches.

“Fuck,” you spit in frustration. “They made it look so easy in the hospital.”

After the second time you almost trip over them, Simon’s exasperation gets the best of him.

“Easy, swee’heart,” he implores, a note of desperation in his voice. “Just got you back, yeah? Can’t have you goin’ right back to A&E.”

He wishes more than anything he could just scoop you up into his arms and carry you straight to the bedroom, but with your leg in its current state, he has to settle for just hovering, perpetually at the ready to catch and support you. He swears the walk from the car to getting you settled in bed takes an entire year off his life.

That first night back at home together, Simon lays awake, watching you sleep. The combination of finally being back in the comfort of your own bed, along with the lack of obnoxiously loud machines beeping and being encumbered by wires, means you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow. Simon lays beside you, as close as he dares to get, still so weary of your injuries. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to your temple, just above where a deep cut runs down your face. His finger hovers just above your skin as he traces the shape. “‘M sorry, love. I promise, I’ll take care of ya. This won’t happen again.” His words are barely above a whisper, drowned out by the soft snores of your breathing. He presses one more gentle kiss to you before turning out the light.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon “ghost” riley x reader #ghostchallenge

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starsofang · 3 days

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Headbanger

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader Summary: John loves his goth girlfriend. TW: NSFW, MDNI, oral sex, dirty talk, p in v sex, this is honestly freaky nasty Collab with @141wh0re!! <3 Will link her version when it's posted! A/N: collab with the lovely skelly, who loves the idea of john with a goth girlfriend just as much as me that we decided to collab on it and write about it :p i do plan on writing another version of this with a dom goth girlfriend bc that idea has me going insane, but for now, i hope you enjoy this because it's a doozy. title inspired by babymetal bc i love them

You threw John into a complete whirlwind when you first came into his life. It was totally unexpected, meeting you, but what was more unexpected was how attracted he was from the very beginning. You were like nothing he’d ever seen before, painted in heavy-set makeup with thickly layered eyeliner, fluttering lashes, and that black lipstick that had him holding on to the last bit of his sanity.

Now, whenever he’d seen pretty women like you who had a love for unique clothing and makeup, always adorned in various accessories and clothing that would cause heads to turn, he often brushed it to the back of his mind because really, what would a boring, old military man like him be doing with lovely goddesses like those?

The two of you clicked though, the dynamic quickly blossoming into a relationship that had John feeling alive again. Sure, he wasn’t an old man (as much as his task force loved to label him as one), but you had a youthful spirit that seemed to smooth out the stress lines on his face from years of grueling battles and hard-earned wins. It was like you were reminding him of how to live life again, rather than let it smother him until he couldn’t breathe.

You were also teaching him that he still had it in him to pop a boner every time he was remotely in your vicinity.

You were cooking up a meal in the kitchen? Hard.

You were lounging on the couch with your feet propped up in his lap? Hard.

You were sitting in front of the mirror, humming along to a song playing from your phone while you did your makeup? Painfully fucking hard.

It was the most mundane things you did that had him nearly pouncing on you like a dog in heat, but who could blame him, really? Besides, it’s not like you minded. You were just as bad as him.

Oftentimes, you’d wear something that you knew would get him riled up. You found that his particular favorite was when you’d strap on a tight corset around your waist, especially the ones that had dainty chains hanging loosely from it. Or, when you’d wear a choker, the thick leather strapped to your neck like a dog collar. John was barely able to restrain himself when you did yourself up like that.

Just like today, you could already see him out of the corner of your eye, silently watching you with tense fists resting in his lap while you finished up in the mirror. His eyes never left you, tracing over the sight of your steady hands carving out the shape of your lips with black lipstick, nor did they leave you when you stood up to enter the closet, tugging out a few clothing options to garner his opinion.

Holding up one of the dresses in your hold to show it off to him, you pretended to ignore the way his expression darkened into something more hungry.

“You think this one will look alright for tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in question as you gauged his response.

John decided it was time for you to meet his boys as he called them, the ones who kept him upright when he’d leave for an extended period of time on a mission, and you wanted to look your best. After all, impressions mattered, even more so when your style didn’t necessarily appeal to all societal standards – though, John wanted you to go as you are, unashamed of the way he could flaunt his goth-loving girlfriend like a trophy on a shelf.

John’s eyes fluttered over to the dress you held up before flicking back to you. “Mm. I like that one.”

You hummed in response, feigning ignorance to the way his voice seemed a bit more sultry, more strangled. He watched as you flipped up another dress option, silently asking for a second opinion, and the way his eyes narrowed didn’t go unnoticed. Of course, the second dress was one of his favorites, with the way it hugged your body while simultaneously cascading a nice flow of fabric that made you look even more entrancing to him. Like a goddess on Earth, and him a mere mortal who was starstruck.

“Playin’ a dangerous game here, love,” he gritted out, and you grinned at him, cocking your head.

“Your opinions are important to me, John.”

John released a breath, glancing back over to the dress, silently thinking. “That one,” he announced, jabbing his head in the direction of the second option. “So long as I can take it off of you by the end of the night.”

You raised an eyebrow at his implications, stalking over to where he sat on the bed to place the mesh of fabric down beside him. “Well, that’s always in the cards,” you mused. “Or you could be a doll and help me put it on for now.”

John groaned low under his breath, leaning back on his hands as they pressed into the soft foam of the mattress. He stared up at you with a look of adoration mixed with starved famish, and it sent heat waves through your entire body. He looked at you like you were his favorite meal while also as if you were the heavens above.

“What’s the use in puttin’ it on when I prefer you with it off?” he grumbled, hands coming up to grab hold of your hips now that you stood in front of him. He gently tugged you forward, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, fingers carding through his hair.

“Because your boys are expecting us. Your plans, by the way,” you teased, your long fingernails gently scratching at the back of his head, eliciting a low moan under his breath.

“M’sure they won’t mind waitin’ a bit,” he grumbled. You snickered in amusement, lightly gripping his hair to tilt his head back, peering down at him with a spark of interest. He smiled up at you, hands slipping off of your hips to instead wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap. “Too pretty of a woman to not want to ruin anyway.”

“I just did my makeup,” you protest, only for him to grin wider.

“That’s the whole point, sweetheart.” John leaned his head into your neck, tickling you with his beard and tracing his lips over your soft skin, pressing longing kisses along the column. You breathed out through your nose at the sensation. “Fuckin’ love the way you do it. Seeing you get all dolled up, god, makes me want to devour you. Such a pretty girl, you are.”

You let out a low hum, eyes fluttering shut as you tilted your head to grant him more access to your neck. His lips trailed along the snug leather that was seated along your neck, his hand coming up to tuck two fingers underneath it and pull you impossibly closer to him.

Chokers were one of his favorites specifically because of its uses. He’d play a game of tug of war with himself, taking advantage of the smooth collar to guide you in ways he wanted you. More importantly, he loved having it live up to the name in effortlessly choking you on occasion.

“Don’t know what a geezer like me did to settle with a woman like you,” he murmured against your skin before promptly pulling back to gaze up at you, eyes heavy with lustful desire.

John’s words sent warmth right down to your core, his praise turning you into an easy puddle of mush. You couldn’t help but shift on his lap in uncontained eagerness, lips parting as you stared at him. His eyes flickered down before leaning forward to take your bottom lip between both of his, giving a teasing suck before pulling back with a grin.

“Goin’ to let me take you, sweetheart?” His voice was hushed and alluring, breath fanning over your face. “Hm? Ruin that pretty makeup of yours just how you always like it?”

Your breath hitched and you were unable to pry your eyes away from his. His gaze was like a scorching burn that singed every inch of your skin.

“I’ll have to redo it if you do that,” you weakly argued, but he could see right through you.

“Never cared about it before,” he retorted right back, and you silently cursed him. John knew just how to rile you up and make you pliant, and unfortunately for you, it was working once again.

As if to persuade you further, he returned to his previous torment on your neck, dipping down to place them along the skin of your chest that peeked out beneath your sleep shirt you had yet to change out of. After all, it wasn’t like he had allowed you the chance to dress properly – yet.

John’s hands trailed up your sides and to your breasts, lightly groping them through the fabric of your shirt. You were a goner just from that, and there was no possible way you were going to deny his request, even if it meant being late to meeting his task force.

A protesting whine was on the tip of your tongue when he let go of them, sliding his hands back down your bottom and instead resting back on your hips, index fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips brushed along your skin, sending a shiver down your spine and an ache to form between your legs.

“Maybe just a quick one won’t hurt,” you reasoned, resulting in a hearty chuckle from him.

“Just a quick one,” he agreed before finally grasping the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head. With your tits now free, he wasted no time in returning to circling his palms around the fat of them, head dipping down to take one of your nipples in between his lips. Upon contact, he let out a satisfied groan, sending muted vibrations through your body and causing you to whimper softly.

One of your hands tangled itself back into his hair, eagerly pressing him further into your breast, holding him there. He continued to suck greedily, occasionally taking you in between his teeth to lightly bite down, sending flutters in your stomach.

With one of his large hands keeping your breast firmly in place so he could continue his attack with his mouth, the other brushed down your nude sides, calloused fingers rough against the smoothness of your skin. They continued downward until reaching the waistline of your pants, some cute pajamas he’d given you a while back adorned with skulls (because they reminded him of you, of course).

He teased you, barely slipping his fingertips beneath the elastic band.

“John,” you whined. He pulled off of your breast with a small pop, giving you a smug look. “You said it would be a quick one.”

“Did I say that?” he hummed, pressing sloppy kisses along your chest, purposefully avoiding your perk nipples. “Sorry, sweetheart. Tend to lose a bit of my memory when I catch a glimpse of you.”

You snorted at his obvious teasing, opening your mouth to retort before you were promptly cut off by his fingers finally sliding into your waistband, eager to cup your cunt and slip up along your slit. A surprised gasp escaped you, and he grinned against your skin.

“Mm,” he groaned quietly, fingers delving underneath your panties so he could get a feel of the wetness coating them. “Don’t know how you expect me to be quick when you’re this fuckin’ wet. Makes me want to take my time with you.”

His middle finger felt through the warm slick before fixating on your clit, giving it an experimental roll. It caused your mouth to drop open, eyes fluttering. Instant heat flooded from your cunt, pulsating you with an aching burn. His ring finger joined his middle, circling your clit with a skilled routine.

“M’sure you want me to take my time, too, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked mockingly. You gazed at him through hooded eyelids before nodding dumbly, already tipsy off of his mere touch. “Thought so.”

His pace on your clit was steady and slow. Agonizing, unfulfilling, just enough to keep you on the edge of a crumbling cliff, but not enough to have you free falling. He loved working you into a messy turmoil, slowly breaking you until you were pleading for more. Ruining you.

All thoughts of having to get proper for meeting the boys were thrown out of the window the moment he swirled your clit in delicious ways, having you squirming for more in his lap, attempting to grind down on his hand. The whole time, he wore a devilish grin, taking in the way your mouth filtered out pleased sighs and gasps, the black lipstick staining your lips only adding fuel to the fire.

He wanted to see it smeared and messy, glossed over with your spit, wanted to see it smothering his body. It was an ache he needed to relieve.

“Y’know what I really want, sweetheart?” John asked, and you hummed in acknowledgement. “To see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned breathlessly, your hips lazily grinding down on his fingers as they tormented your clit. “It’s gonna stain.”

“Good.”

Much to your dismay, he removed his fingers from your pants, giving your hip a soft pat before you found yourself kneeling in front of him, his thighs spread, cock uncomfortably tight in his trousers. He leaned back, resting on his hands, staring down at your position with red hot desire. There was no mistaking his arousal from how he looked at you like you were his holy grail. He’d get on his own knees and pray to you if he could.

You eagerly fumbled with the buckle of his belt, working nimble fingers on his button and zipper. He watched with intensity, eyes focused on the black color that coated your nails with red and white designs as decoration. They were ones he paid for you to get done himself, with the exception of his initial painted on one of your fingers.

Your eyes shifted up to look at him while he lifted his hips so you could tug his pants down enough to tug him out of his boxers, and he nearly finished at the sight of you, long, fake eyelashes fluttering up at him. You were like an enticing siren, luring him into deep pools of black, dragging him down the bottomless pit. He’d happily let you, too.

John’s hand reached out to cup the back of your head, gently guiding you forward. You took in the sight of his cock, hard and thick, the tip flushed an angry red with a bead of precum pebbling at the slit. It was a mouthwatering sight.

You instinctively parted your lips to dart your tongue out, taking in the bitter sweetness of his preseed, enticing a groan from him. His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping you in a firm grip. It encouraged you to take him fully in your mouth, suckling lightly on the tip.

Allowing saliva to pool in your mouth for an easier glide, you slipped further down his cock, taking him halfway before pulling back up and releasing him. The tint of his skin was faintly colored by the lipstick you wore, but you knew John wanted more, wanted to see himself completely ruined by it.

John’s eyes fluttered down to take a look at his cock, his hand remaining in your hair. He let out a hum of approval. “Go on. Make a mess of my cock, hm?”

The tone of his voice was pure sin, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrapped your hand fully around his cock, keeping him steady to feed him back into your mouth. The taste of him burst on your tastebuds, and you found yourself seeking more of it, the mix of musk and soap from the shower he’d taken not too long ago.

Dipping your head deeper, you took as much as him as you could in your mouth before setting an easy pace. You let the hand in your hair tug you up and down, making sure to relax your throat when his hips began to shallowly buck into the sensation of your warmth.

“Fuck, look at you,” he cooed, voice raspy and heavenly. “Such a pretty girl, takin’ it so well.”

You hummed around him, and the feeling made him groan, head falling back.

The more you went down on him, the more drool pooled around your lips, dribbling down your chin. It was a messy work of art, your lipstick smudging around his cock as well as the corners of your mouth, just like he wanted. It coated him with smeared black, leaving streaks behind with every bob of your head.

His groans and grunts filled your ears like sweet melodies, becoming more strangled and raspy ghe more he succumbed to your notions. Eager to hear more, you slid further down until your nose tickled along the pubes that lined his pelvis, throat relaxing around him enough to allow him the intrusion.

“Fuck,” he moaned, gripping your hair tighter and pressing you into him impossibly closer, bucking up into you and causing you to gag. His eyes found yours from where you were swallowed around his dick, darkened with heated want. “That’s it. Take all of it.”

You were eager to please, so you continued, pulling back to suckle the tip just to fall back down to the base. His hips began thrusting up to match your pace, fucking your face while maintaining gentleness as not to hurt you (though, you wouldn’t mind that either, nor would it be the first time he did it).

You could tell from the way his thighs tensed and flexed, and the way his hand tangled your hair in a vice, that he was beginning to unravel. Heat pooled into his abdomen, his cock twitching in your mouth.

Your eyes locked with his, eyelashes fanning up prettily. Your lipstick was ruined, plastering all around his dick like a drunken painting, stalking a claim on him.

John let out a shuddered groan, hips bucking up one last time before his cum spilled down your throat, forcing you to swallow it down. It was a bitter taste that you couldn’t get enough of, greedily taking it for yourself.

You only pulled away when it became too stimulating for him, his hand guiding you off and loosening its grasp. You waited patiently for him to catch his breath, planting a sloppy kiss on his muscled thigh, tattooing a lipstick mark on it to match his cock.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he gasped out, staring down at you with a dazed smile. His hand reached out to brush his thumb along your glossy bottom lip, smudging a bit of the lipstick further, or at least what remained of it. “C’mon, it’s your turn, yeah? God, just want to ruin you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath when he helped you stand from your knees and to your feet, only to press you right down on the mattress, bent over with your ass perked up for him.

His fingers slipped under the waistline of your pants and shimmied you out of them, leaving you bare and exposed. The sight of you caused him to sigh blissfully, a large hand groping one of your asscheeks and spreading you apart to see the glistening wetness waiting for him.

“Fuckin’ wet, aren’t you, doll? Bet you don’t even need any prep, think you can take me now?”

You whined pathetically, arching a bit more for him to admire the display, head resting comfortably on your crossed arms. You gave him a lazy nod in response, wiggling a bit more.

The pads of his fingers slid through your slick, spreading it along your puffy lips, creating an even bigger mess than before.

They didn’t linger for long before you felt the head of his cock slip through, lubing himself up with your own wetness, occasionally catching on to your clit and causing you to gasp and squirm. A firm hand smacked across your ass, drawing a whimper from you.

“Sit still. Got to make it quick, remember, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t care less about being late to meeting his force. Now that you were desperate to feel the fullness of him inside your weeping walls, it was the last thing on your mind.

Finally, the head of his cock pressed past your first ring of muscle, making your mouth drop open and the breath to get caught in your throat. He pressed more and more, filling you up until it was nearly too much, his hips rested against your ass.

“Fuck, there we go. Such a pretty thing,” he cooed, pulling his hips back just to press back into you with a shallow thrust. It was too much, while not enough. “Sorry ‘bout the makeup, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to reply before the words were forced back in when he snapped his hips at a more brutal pace, leaving you speechless and cockdrunk.

John took no mercy on you, meaning it when he said he’d make it quick. He fucked into you with a grueling burn of desire, jolting your body with every thrust, surging you further up the bed. When he felt you slipping away from you, he dipped two fingers under the choker around your neck from behind, tugging you back and holding you up for him to use freely, the leather digging into your throat deliciously.

You released whiny, strangled moans, filling the room with intoxicating noise that filtered through his ears and lit up a fire in his body. Tears began to form along your lash line, dripping down your cheeks and streaking your makeup in a messy trail of black eyeliner and mascara.

You looked absolutely wrecked.

“Good fuckin’ girl, look at you,” he praised, keeping his fingers around your choker but leaning over your backside so he could get a view of your face, grinning devilishly at the sight. “Beautiful.”

“John,” you gasped out, voice broken and shaky, resulting in a smug snicker on his end.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Like bein’ ruined by me, hm?”

You nodded dumbly, mind completely blank of anything other than his cock as it plunged in and out, knocking the wind out of you.

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on the choker and forcing you to arch impossibly more, slapping his hips into the plush of your ass and feeding into the red hot need you’re seeking.

The muscles in your stomach tightened, threatening to snap at any moment. It felt good, so good it had you moaning out his name without so much of a care at how loud you were being.

It only egged him on, releasing his own raspy moans and grunts. Sweat beaded his eyebrow, dripping down the side of his face as he focused on giving you all of him and more.

Simmering heat built into a bushfire, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long. You were teetering on the edge, and as if he knew it, he picked up the pace, causing you to clench around him, sucking him in with a tight grip.

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” he groaned, smoothing his hand that wasn’t gripping your choker up your back and worming its way to your front, plucking one of your nipples between his fingertips. It sent a jolt through you, even more so when that same hand dipped down to circle your clit with his cock rutting into you.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, mouth dropping open in a silent scream, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your cunt squeezed around him, his hips stuttering and pace becoming sloppy at the sensation, before a long moan left his lips. Warmth flooded inside of your cunt, painting your walls white and leaving you full.

Heavy breaths left both of you, gasping for air. John slowly pulled out of you, brushing his thumb against your cunt and marveling at the white cum that threatened to seep out.

“Think we’ll still be late?” he asked cheekily, and you let out a breathy laugh, reaching an arm back to gently push him away.

You were, in fact, late. Having to redo your makeup and throw together an outfit, decorating your look with your normal display of jewelry and accessories, you ended up at the bar roughly twenty minutes after the original meeting time.

John tugged you inside, seemingly unbothered by your shared carelessness, introducing you to his boys with a proud smile. He didn’t hesitate to drag you along to the bar for some drinks after a brief conversation, hand resting on your lower back in a show of possession.

“Didn’t know Cap was into goth chicks,” Gaz muttered in disbelief, eyes staring the two of you down and taking in your unique clothing and otherworldly makeup choice.

“Shit, I might have to hop on the fuckin’ train,” Soap murmured in awe, earning a sharp kick to his shin from Ghost beneath the table.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw3 #cod x reader #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price smut #goth!reader #price x reader #captain price #this is nasty #cod smut

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dr-felitas · 2 days

Text

I KNOW LOVE EXISTS BECAUSE YOU'RE FULL OF IT

synopsis: they’re full of tenderness, adoration, love or this one tiktok trend that goes like “i know love exists because my friends are full of it.”

pairing: aventurine, sunday, robin, topaz x reader (separate) | wc: 1.8k | content & warnings: fluff, established relationship, kissing kissing and kissing, aventurines drabble is totally not inspired by one of my old posts..(it's literally the same), petnames in robins, usage of dummy (sarcastic) in robins, lmk if there's more ^^ ; headcanon + drabble

a/n: “love” is replaced by a synonym or another word cause i thought it’d get too boring and repetitive lmfao, ALSO happy pride!!

“i know yearning exists because AVENTURINE is full of it.”

there isn't a single time of the day where aventurine doesn't long to be by your side.

aventurine doesn’t make it obvious but he can be a clingy lover.

he has a habit of tightly holding onto you wherever the two of you are, be it in the morning when the two of you still lie in bed and aventurine holds your waist, when the two are out in public and aventurine grips your hand so he doesn’t lose you in the crowd.

there are times during work where he’s bored and starts taking notice of certain things that you’d like or that remind him of you. he writes them down in his notes app to later on tell you about them.

first thing in the morning: checking up on you. first thing to do at work: checking up on you. first thing he does when he comes home: checking up on you.

when he comes home and you don’t greet him at the door and finds you in the kitchen preparing dinner, he wraps his arms around your waist and watches you as you cook.

at the beginning aventurine was quite hesitant and reluctant when it came to initiating physical touch, the concept of a committed relationship was still new to him, a relationship where he have to open up and actually be himself - being vulnerable.

so in the first months it’s nothing but longing glances as his fingers itch to touch you but he knows that if he will, he’ll cross a border which he’ll never be able to go back to.

eventually he starts to link your pinkies together, holding onto yours tightly so you don’t slip out of his grasp. those small touches later turn into morning kisses and back at home kisses, hand squeezes, brushing your hand through the other's hair or begging the other to not go to work.

it’s early in the morning and you know that aventurine has to go to work, but you just can't help but be greedy. eagerly grasping for his wrist, as you beg him not to leave yet and just stay for another five minutes.

your voice is laced with morning drowsiness and the grip you have on his wrist is sluggish - nevertheless your eyes are full of determination to not let him go and keep him by your side.

he's grown accustomed to your little antics now, it's basically become a habit for the both of you to laze in bed a bit longer. but who is he to complain - after all how could he resist you when you ask him so nicely?

internally, he’s glad that he isn’t the only among the two of you who yearns for the other one.

“i know sincerity exists because TOPAZ is full of it.”

topaz’s words, actions, gestures, in her opinion, aren’t enough - they’ll never be enough to express her love for you.

topaz is a very dedicated lover.

she’s is always making sure to assure and reassure you that she loves you, be it verbally with compliments and praises, physically by showering you with much affection, cuddles and kisses on your temple before work or materialistically with gifts such as new jewelry, your favorite sweet treat, new mechanical pencils. the list goes on.

lies are unknown to her, topaz always keeps her word. your dates are 8pm sharp on saturday with her picking you up. she promised to go to the new cat café you’ve been eyeing? bet, she’s taking numby with you guys.

on her days off work or weekends, topaz always wakes up early and makes sure to prepare you a delicious breakfast and bring it to you in bed. it varies from sweet meals like waffles topped with berries and crêpes glazed in melted chocolate to savory breakfasts like sourdough fried in olive oil and topped with an avocado and a poached egg or congee.

when buying flower bouquets (which became a weekly habit), she always makes sure to keep one flower to herself, so when it wilts, she knows it’s time to purchase a new one and place it in the shiny glass vase on your coffee table.

topaz always wakes 5 minutes up earlier than her alarm just so she can admire you for a little while longer before having to go to work. she lies next to you and just fiddles with your fingers, kissing the knuckles of your palms and tracing your ring finger (just by doing that she’s able to find out the perfect measurements for your future wedding band) and brushing the strands of hair that cover your face, away.

you’re so perfect.

topaz can only stare at you in adoration as you peacefully slumber. to think that she used to wake up alone with no one besides perhaps numby by her side, it’s ironic to think about it now.

she searches for your hand beneath the covers and quickly finds it, swiftly lacing your hands together as she brings your hand closer to her face. the back of your hand finds her lips and she presses warm kisses against your knuckles before smiling into your hand. she couldn’t be any luckier.

topaz is reminded that this isn’t a dream but reality - her reality with you. she hopes that her mornings will continue like this, with birds chirping outside her windows and tendrils of sunshine peeking through the curtains as they shine on your beautiful face.

she hopes that this reality will be her future, her shared future with you.

“i know devotion exists because SUNDAY is full of it.”

if sunday had to devote himself to someone it'd be none other than you.

sunday is a committed lover.

you might call him whipped - head over heels even.

he’s prepared for every occurrence that might be happening. it’s raining heavily? he pulls out an umbrella to shield you, carefully inching it closer to you so that you don’t get wet, even if it means that his clothes will later on be slightly soaked. your feet are sore from walking with your shoes? he’s prepared and brought an additional pair of shoes in case you’d start feeling tired. you forgot to bring your wallet and can’t pay for your meal? sunday will cover it! (he was going to pay anyway, there’s no way he’d let you pay.)

the type of guy that excuses himself to go to the toilet but then goes to the receptionist and pays.

when in public and he notices that your shoes are untied he gets on one of his knees, staining his trousers with dirt as he ties the laces of your shoes back together, before standing up once again and brushing off the dirt of his clothes and taking out wet wipes to clean his hands before reaching out his hand to you.

sunday is willing to learn anything and everything about your interests. it starts off with carefully listening to you as you talk about them to later on researching them in books and the internet and perhaps even people who’re educated in this topic. just so he can later bring it up and see you happily ranting about it as he intently listens.

“have you heard about the new discussion that’s going on.” sunday shows you his phone which is currently displaying a post about one of your favorite topics which makes you smile in delight.

“actually no! i haven’t heard of this yet. show it to me please.” you plead as you look at him with a bright grin. “you know, you don’t have to ask.” sunday hums contently before handing you his phone and picking up his book again, licking the tip of his finger to turn the page as he watches you intently reading the article, smiling as you turn to him to point out something that caught your attention.

“i know compassion ROBIN exists because is full of it.”

if you’d offer robin to take all your pain away and place it upon her, she would accept. not hesitating for a split second and immediately accepting.

robin is an empathic and understanding lover.

she always brings you small trinkets and souvenirs, like magnets to put on your shared fridge or colorful keychains for you guys’ apartment, from her concerts and tours on other planets. reasoning it by saying that: “it reminded me of you.”

she adores addressing you with terms of endearments like sweetheart, love, beloved etc. that when she doesn’t you’re confused if you did something wrong.

when robin notices you being anxious, she carefully intertwines your hands together and softly squeezes your palm as an attempt to calm you down. she languidly traces shapes, circles, stars, hearts on the back of your hand to soothe your worries and ease your anxiety.

^ she also massages your muscles or back when they’re sore before wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing the crook of your neck.

her kisses are featherlight, lasting for a quick moment but being full of emotion. they’re soft as she presses her lips against your skin, tinting you in pinkish lipstick from head to toe.

oftentimes she bumps her nose against yours and when she sees your flustered expression she can only let out an angelic laugh. she then leans forwards to press a kiss on the area above your cupid's bow, just to poke your nose with hers once again.

a lot (all) of her songs are about you and she’s not one to deny that fact. there have been many times where robin sang you one of her songs as a way to comfort you, be it when she’s humming you to sleep or as you comb through her lilac hair with your fingers while listening to her songs.

“oh who’s this about?” you ask as you gingerly brush through her long hair, making sure that there aren’t any knots. robin's hair is silky and soft in your hands and you can only indulge in the scent of her freshly washed and dried hair - a sweet lavender scent.

robin can only hum in confusion. “you mean this song?” she tilts her head to the and stares at you through the mirror of her vanity. “yeah, this one.” you gulp, it’s an old song from robin that covers many topics like love, specifically falling in love and painting out a bright future.

“it’s about you, dummy. who else?” she laughs as if it were obvious. “about me?” but this song is much older than when we first started dating.” this time it’s you being confused. “well, the song is about falling in love and planning a future.” she hums.

all of her songs or at least the majority are about you and she doesn’t plan on stopping writing and singing more about you.

i'm literally brushing my teeth rn but whatever. i know love exists bc user @azullumi is full of it!!! (azul does NOT reply to tiktoks you send, im crying) also azul the thingy with the us copying our mannerism when it comes to texting I DIDNT EVEN NOTICE HAHA although keyboard smashing is something i've only done with a few people, like one or two.. but now it's become quite the habit again (instead of "JEKAKWOEOWAO" i wrote sutff like "HQHAHAHA" or "LMFAO" - i still do but wtv) also i thank you for introducing me to tagalog/filo songs. i love them. i'm a sucker for them now. ok that's all you're getting. you're not getting an ily from me. i need to spare that for the upcoming bsd chapter (THR ACTUAL REASON UIRE NOT GETTING ANY APPRECIATIVE WORDS IS CAUSE I ONLY GOT SHAMED FOR MY TYPOS IN UR E/N SO UNTIL I DONT GET ANY U DONT EITHER GO AND DOROWN IN A DITCH OLD HAG #nopainnogain #neverbackdownneverhwat?!?! #againstazul2024😡)

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seouljazzbar · 3 days

Note

could you do something about your sextape with the riize members? just what it would be like in general

i hope this is what you meant anon! includes nsfw links! proceed at your own risk

SHOTARO

I could be completely off base about this, but Shotaro would be a little nervous! He loves you and gets hard at just the idea of filming the two of you, but something about it makes his palm slick with nerves: so he really makes it a point to make the video about the two of you, ignoring the camera and making sweet love to you like there’s no one else in the world. He wouldn’t have to bother himself with the responsibility of making it look cinematic, as long as the camera captures how good he’s making you feel. His lips stay pressed against yours for most of it, whispering sickeningly sweet dirty talk for your ears only.

EUNSEOK

I’m not gonna like, Eunseok wants you to put on a show for him. If you’re gonna film it, might as well go all out, right? He’d be so vocal, encouraging you to get off just using him for your own pleasure. He’s so mesmerized by you that he completely forgets that you guys are even filming, switching to taking over just as you’re about to cum on his cock. Oh, my god, he’d be so cocky afterwards knowing that he caught your shrieking orgasm on camera and can watch it back as many times as he pleases. He’d mock you lovingly by reminding you just how desperate you sounded screaming “Eunseok! Fuck, right there, feels s-so good!”

SUNGCHAN

I feel like Sungchan would make you the center of attention, mainly because the tape in question would get the most play out of him. He’d pass on going out with the members to explore whatever city they’re doing promo in so he could have the room to himself, sextape playing at full volume in his headphones while he jerks his swollen cock to the procured memory of you bouncing on his cock. The memory of laving your breasts with his tongue in desperate strokes, trying to remember exactly how you tasted rocking your hips back and forth like a certified pornstar. From then on, it’d be one of his favorite (private) nicknames for you: my little pornstar

WONBIN

Oh, immediately yes. Wonbin’s agreeing to it before you even finish asking. But instead of a video where he’s fucking you, it’d be a video of you fucking him. He’s not shy to make the distinction when you guys are chatting specifics, and holy hell is he glad he spoke up. You fuck him with your strap so good that he sees stars, blacking out after his third orgasm of the night. The two of you have always been switches, but the routine of your relationship led to him taking control more than you did. But this? Capturing his whiny, fucked out cries for release with you pound his little hole? He couldn’t have written it better himself.

SEUNGHAN

Been there, done that. I feel like Seunghan would suggest sextapes fairly early on into the relationship, something you both were unspokenly on the same page about. You guys just match each other’s freak, and recording yourselves is nothing new for the two of you. He has a private folder that he refuses to even hint at having to any of his friends (your privacy is oh so important to him, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if anyone saw your intimate videos together). Whenever you guys try out something new in the bedroom, he props up the camera to capture it just in case. Your moans and cries are the soundtrack to his own personal erotic film collection.

SOHEE

Sohee agrees on the condition that you’re in control. It’s not a non-negotiable, but he knows that watching the tape back will be ten times hotter if he gets to hear you boss him around. Calling him a good boy while you bounce on his cock close enough for the camera to see every drop of slick that you have to offer. It would drive him crazy, thanking his lucky stars that he’s blessed enough to have you as his girlfriend. The video would make him cum so fast, but he wouldn’t be embarrassed– that just meant he got to start it from the beginning again.

ANTON

The only reason Anton agrees to a sextape is because you seem so excited by the idea :( he doesn’t wanna burst the bubble you’re in when you propose the idea to him, all smiley and turning up the charm. He’d do anything to make you happy, as long as he can lay down some boundaries: the only one being no faces. He’d fuck you better for it anyway, grabbing onto your hips with a grip that’ll certainly bruise, calling you a spoiled brat that would do anything if it meant getting fucked. He never admits it to you (mainly because you get all I told you so! about it)but he watches the tape any time he’s horny and you’re not around. Watching himself drill into your tight little pussy never gets old for him

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koiir · 2 days

Text

꒰͡ ִ DON’T WANNA BREAK UP AGAIN ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

ೃ⁀➷ Synopsis; Out of the blue, a message is sent from your ex after 4 months from the spilt. But why?

Rin x gn!reader

Notes. angst to comfort . Exes to lovers . Bad communication . Not proofread . Pretty used to describe reader . Wc; 2.6k . Extra fluffy bonus <33

Notification Center

— Rin; hi. I know this is…

What? The food in hand seemed to be forgotten as your fork fell back onto its plate and your eyes widen. Phone slamming onto the table from the emotions all flooding into your mind, spilling to your heart.

This most definitely was not in your plans for today, the single text sent impacting you stronger that you wish it could. But how could it not? You thought for sure you and Rin’s story was over, especially when he was doing so well in his career. Without you.

Isn’t that what he wanted?

The clock that you never pay mind to seems to daunt on you as the tick is heard with the time passing, although you know the answer that lies ahead will be waiting for as long as it can be even if you wish it could vanish.

10 minutes have passed and you can’t pull yourself together to pick up the phone, it’s late and you feel the dread kick in as you prepare for your sleep with your phone calling to you. The only thing you really can do it open the message.

The silence doesn’t help the hallow part of your being, the silhouette of the boy you love has his back turned to you as he doesn’t dare to mutter a word. His eyes can’t see the gleam in yours, yet his aching heart can tell he’s only going to break yours more.

“I told you, I can’t with us. This. It’s suffocating me.”

The words grow more tormenting, for both you and rin. Though your heart can bear it, the drain being one you can handle as it’s for him you wish to help. Your own needs being pushed away. You start to think of all you have done just for his heart, but did he even dare for yours?

“Then why didn’t you tell me Rin? You know you can tell my anything, I just need you to trust me and-“

“You wouldn’t understand! You think that you can help but it’s only a matter of time until you realize you can’t.”

Although it’s just a line to him, the words don’t seem right at all. The need to spill your heart out is desperate to convey the truth and remind him of what is true.

“Just listen to me, you can’t say that without trusting me rin. Let me help you or at least stick by your side, we can-“

“No we can’t. The only thing that will happen from this is more distractions and more arguments to come.”

“Agruments are normal. But this isn’t a distraction rin, never.”

“But you are.”

His head tilts back to look at you, eyes narrow and the sorrow in them make your heart stop. He’s being so serious about what he said. It’s as if he’s on the field, dealing with others as he spares them no mercy.

The tremble of your lip stills as you bite onto it, mouth dry with the remnants of his words lingering onto your being. Why did things turn out this why? Why must he push you away as if you two didn’t have anything special? A whole year and it seems that rin was lost because he never spoke up.

“Do you mean that?”

His eyes shut and look away, a flicker of gleam appearing in them before it’s gone in an instant. As he stares into the distance, you wonder just what he truly wishes to say. Because rin never speaks the truth, not without coating it with some other meaning.

“I can’t let anything get in my way, it’s happening and I can’t let this continue.”

“Why now? After all this time what changed to make you think that?”

“Because you’re becoming a fucking burden and being too much!”

Oh how he wishes he could take those words back, how his mind was filled with nothing but idiocy in the moment. The shudder in your mouth is meet with the tear spilling from your eye. Leaving you to walk away, broken to shreds from the boy who supposedly loved you.

His heart hasn’t stopped beating even though he finished his workout 30 minutes ago, Rin knew it was a matter of time until you would see his message. Hell, you probably already did. Probably left him on seen or something.

The message is still left on delivered, his eyes wonder to the profile picture of you that is still in your contact and his eyes close. You looked as pretty as ever. Even if that picture was taken months ago it was his favorite since it was in the morning while he was still asleep, you positioning the camera to also get him in the frame.

His hands clench around the phone, about to turn his phone off until he sees you read his message. Rin isn’t one to wait around for you, but he must right now. Because it’s you he’s willing to wait for, even with all his screwups, he can at least try.

The only reason as to why he got so much courage to send the text was because he couldn’t beat the fact that you might find someone else, someone who definitely would be better than he is.

But he’s selfish, and he can’t hold this churning feeling all bottled up until it breaks. He’s tried, he’s done so much to try and be better. Because he can’t go back to you if he’s still a broken mess awaiting to be replaced.

The bubble of your message forms as you type, his heart filling with anxiety and fear as he wonders what the hell your going to send. He wishes to look away, although his mind tells him to stay put. He can’t look away once more, no matter if the words that come are ones he wishes to not hear.

Notification Center

— Love; you’re right, I didn’t expect this…

The heartbeat is all too familiar from the past, though now the fear that he might reject opening your message is one he has to take.

The paragraph, similar to his, is rather ling but to the point. His eyes skin through, refusing to acknowledge the gleam watering in his hue of teal.

What makes a hitch come from his throat is the last line in the message, “I think we should meet up, to talk in person. If that’s fine with you.”

A soft smile comes to his face, not bothering to remove it as he can feel at peace once more. Even if you tell him that you two won’t get back together, he’s desperate to see you again. And maybe just maybe, you will have enough room in your heart to make space for him once more.

He feels himself grow impatient as time clocks away, he tells himself to over and over to be not be an idiot this time. That he can’t treat you like he has was others. Because that’s what ruined the beauty of what was once his, all because he let his own self crash into a state of ignorance, just for the hope of his own goal.

He’s early, the steps made don’t cause anyone to bat an eye, although it’s as if on instinct he looks your way. Rin meets your eyes and his mouth opens, staring with an emotion you can’t understand.

Your hands clench tightly as you grow nervous, you heart racing simultaneously with no end for its stop, one look and you’re reminded of how much the boy truly has affected you. Your heart feels its yearn, although you can’t let it go just yet, not until this has been talked out and left you satisfied enough to make your call.

“[Name]”

The call of your name makes you realize that yes, you two are in fact back together (distance wise and talking) and that this moment is one that needs to matter. The truth of the why needed to be brought to light, and if not you just might have to hate itoshi rin for the rest of time.

“Rin.”

The single bench feels smaller than it should be, although it was made for a pair of two. You feel out of place, distant, and like the two of you have created a tension others can most definitely feel. Both of his and your hands hold onto the bench, as if wishing to hold onto something else that is in close reach.

“Im surprised you asked to meet up, because i was such an asshole to you… even though you tried your best for our sake.”

You always did your best, the most admirable thing about you in Rins mind. No matter what, the strength in your soul so strong it beamed to strive for the best.

He can’t hold back now, he can’t even think about letting you walk away with disappointment or hatred for him. You might already, but his heart can only handle so much.

“In the moment, I was desperate to be the best. I guess now I have somewhat achieved that, but it’s not you that was holding me back, I was the cause.”

The nights he spent letting his anger out on his teammates even before the break up was one of multiple, they thought it was from the relationship struggling but in fact Rin himself was the cause.

It’s not as if these outbreaks of emotions were new, rather an occurrence happening from time. With you in the picture to experience him in these moments, it seems as though Rin took you as the core of his problems.

The arguments arising and ending did not in fact help either, they started small as most do. The reason being? You’re worry for his overworking and poor attendance to his health. It’s natural for a partner to care, that’s what others told him, though of course the inexperienced boy wouldn’t know that, not when in his mind it was something that he considered being “pestered” about.

“I thought that maybe, since you were the other part of me that was being so supportive, that I assumed that you would be the core of all my problems.”

“I didn’t realize how much I had taken you for granted, how much time and effort you spent trying to fix me. When all I did was ruin everything with my lukewarm brain.”

“I can’t blame you for that—well maybe, but…it’s not the most insane thing someone can do.”

His head turns to yours as you stare off into the distance, the park flutters away with its people and nature all enhancing the area.

For him, nature sights never caught his attention, though the fact still remains they make you glow in their presence.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that, most do tend to blame others when they aren’t exactly in the best mood.”

“It’s bad yes, but when pressured or stress, people can lose control of how they act with others.”

“But, it’s not like-“

“It did hurt though, a lot Rin.”

His eyes move back to his lap, for once it seems his emotions aren’t being concealed and his fingers are fidgeting in worry. From your perspective, you can’t see the small tremble in his lips as he ponders onto what to say next, the right thing to say.

“I know, I know it did so much and I’m so sorry. I don’t think…I can do much to heal that pain but I just need you to know it was all me. All my fault for your pain and that you didn’t do anything wrong.

I never meant the words I said, you were never a burden.”

You were the home I never knew existed.

He was stupid, so utterly stupid. He might be even more stupid to think of the possibility that you two have another chance. His mind at least knows that you’re the type to let down someone in the most polite way possible, even if they don’t deserve such respect.

“I just wish you would have trusted me, that you wouldn’t blow up so easily without letting me talk. I understand that you can get upset Rin, we all do, I just needed your trust and communication. That’s all.”

You’re right, so right. Rin loved you, so much, but that never meant he could truly fix his other factors in return. His trust increasing, but also one that can be broken in an instant. Communication on the other hand, was the trickery part for him in general. He understood what you meant, that you wanted him to at least try to talk it out.

“That’s why, I want to…”

Rin feels his throat close, his words scared of coming out of him. Why? Why does he fear the worst? Fear that he might not get another chance? Probably, but he’s already here with you waiting, he can’t give up on this.

“What is it? You can tell me Rin.”

Your eyes are now on him, the concern and sincerity still lay in them as you have moved slightly closer to him. He feels more at ease, the sensation in him one that he has missed for a while now. His head now turns to you, eyes wide with a deep wave of emotion.

“Us. I want…you to maybe and try give me another chance.”

The widen in your eyes makes his heart drop, his eyes dare to look away in regret although a hand to his is placed. The contact making a hue of red appear on his face. A flutter in his heart is caused by the warm hand on his, which makes him look back to you. A smile takes your face, a rather bashful one that feels like you wish to hide it. Though Rin wants to tell you to keep it, cause he’s missed it so damn much.

“I can’t lie and say I haven’t missed us either Rin, I really do.

I want this to work, I just don’t want be to be scared again. That you maybe won’t understand and that we can’t work things out.

…I want to take things slow, I think for both of us, we need to learn. Together.”

Time. That’s what’s best right? Then Rin can absolutely wait, his time can be spent on something valuable to him other than his career. Although he can’t help but still doubt himself after your words.

“Are you sure? Is that really what you want?”

“See! You’re doing it Rin, just trust me.”

Your smile is more bright now, face close to his as your hand holds his tighter. He reciprocates, expression softening as he takes in your face after all this time. It feels as if he’s been given the opportunity of a lifetime, the need to be with you is a fundamental Rin will never understand. But right now, it feels as though he understands how important this is to him.

“You’re more than I deserve.”

The best thing I thing has ever happened to me.

BONUS !

“Oh? What’s got you so happy Rinnie boy!”

The players all turn their attention to him, and they think he’s seriously out of it. I mean, why is he smiling softly at his phone?

Oh. Must be you.

“Will you just shut up bangs.”

His phone is put away and a grimace replaces that smile of his, the boys all make sounds of “oooo’s” only making Rin slap the boy who started this all (on the head ofc)

“Heyyyy! You can’t do that to fellow teammate of yours rin! Especially after all that we’ve been through!”

Bachira and the rest watch as Rin relaxes slightly, in the past month, they can tell he’s changed. More than they expected. Presumably because of you and his relationship sparking back up. He tells them you two are taking it slow—which technically you are, but what the notice is fast Rin has changed. Emotionally and mentally.

“Seems she changed him a lot.”

“Yeah…sure does seem like it.”

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taylorswiftbutsimp · 2 days

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✭Run For Your Husband

Author’s Note: Happy 300 Followers (l’m so happy and i yapped to much here)😭🫶🫶 ✨ this my little thank you gift!!

Summary: Being an outworlder in a foreign nation requires hard work. Fortunately for you, a little twist of fate takes you back to the right path.

Oneshot

WordCount: 3080

Warnings⚠️: Reader is mentioned female, Reader ran-away from a arranged marriage, noble reader, reader lies about her identity, reader is a healer, Dan feng is low-key sick and twisted same goes for reader, Mentions of injuries,wound, past life a little lore of the high cloud quintet (spoilers from 1.2 -3) the trailblazer is stelle, timesskips!! Yandere dan feng at the end??

Heels clicking through the floor, working with the alchemy commission, was tiring, especially now being assigned as a healer. It was back and fort Marastrucken soldiers and injuries there.

Tending the wounds of the great jing yuan who has been recruited by the sword champion jing liu despite not knowing this people and being a ran away from your homeland it was good to know a few history there to not look like a clueless foreigner.

It was not your business to listen to the conversation of the imbibitor Lunae, and Jing Yuan You. was merely ministering to his wounds.

"Have you heard from your missing bride?" Jing Yuan queried the azure dragon, who was seated across the chair drinking tea.

"No, and I have no idea what she looks like" said the dragon in an uninteresting voice.

How was Dan Feng going to know you? When he asked the family what he could do to help, they declined and vowed to bring you to him once they found you.

"In that case, how did you manage to get tied into a marriage without knowing how your future wife looks like?" Jing Yuan puzzled about his friend's dilemma.

"She did not like portraits of herself and often hid away from the world that was the only report i received" said the high elder.

What a bomber, you believed a gorgeous man like the imbibitor Lunae should find another woman to marry.

However, you could only keep your reactions to yourself. His situation was similar to yours, and the minute your father announced your upcoming marriage, you took the chance and fled away.

Being someone's wife was never your interest; medicine was, and you're not going to give that up for a man who is probably an old man with five children around your age.

Snickering at the thought and making a disgusted expression, you failed to notice that Jing Yuan had reached your side and was asking for your opinion. "What about you, young lady? Do you care to say a few words about the situation?"

Gulping slightly, you wrapped up the last touch of his wound before responding, "I don't think it's worth it. The bride ran away; isn't it a hint not to take a chance?"

surprisingly, the two men could only hum in response as you excused yourself.

Strange that you thought the bride reminded you so much of yourself, not liking illustrations and staying to yourself. presuming many people feel that way.

——

"Oh, imbibitor lunae, what could I do to help you today?" You questioned, taking your focus from the therapeutic herbs you were crushing.

"Jinwen informed me you have the medication I asked for a few days ago" the dragon said before gazing at the books on your table.

"Just a moment, I'll find them!!"Running at the medical storage inspecting the label, making sure to offer the medicine that was specifically asked for

Dan Feng wasn't a curious person, but you left your notebook open at the table with a research about medicine and hypothesis, he couldn't help but help and skim a few lines.

Hearing your footsteps, he closes the notebook and looks down into the corridor where you were walking as if nothing had happened.

——

Dan Feng remained quiet, but Jing Liu was thinking a different kind of silence. "Is this about your bride, Imbibitor Lunae? It's no wonder why you're skills are imprecise today."

The azure dragon snapped out of his thoughts. In truth, he was seeing you about more than he should, in the garden, the tea house, even the seat of divine foresight, but he didn't have the the courage to approach you.

Dan Feng sighs, "It's complicated" perhaps he should let go of the bride situation and the little infatuation at the healer lady you.

Jing Liu doubts her long-time friend, but she lets it go because he will talk when he is ready.

You were persistent in working, even organized, and giving everyone around you the same energy they gave you.

You were something the high elder looked at into the way your eyes would brighten when seeing herbs planted on the sidewalks, picking some and making good use of it.

Maybe he should ask you for a tea chat every now and again.

——

The scalegorge waterscape is gorgeous, and anyone would be honored to live here. The palace is well-designed, and the plant life are well-cared for.

“I hope i did not keep you waiting miss (name)”

“Noo thank you for inviting me over your highness-“

"Dan Feng is fine, I think we’re pass that" the dragon chuckles, sitting down and pouring tea into your cup first.

"Is there a reason you called for me? I hope I'm not in trouble."

Dan Feng smiles, his hands now resting on his lap, admiring your facial features. "A few weeks ago, I read into your notebook about medicines. I know it's not appropriate to read into someone else's work, but I'm interested in yours."

A tiny flush forming in your cheeks, trying to conceal it by drinking tea,not used to compliments.

“It's okay, I did leave the notebook open. Thank you for the compliment.”

“Such knowledge of yours is quite advanced; it can even help people in medicine say, How did you get here in Xiaozhou? I hope I'm not overstepping.”

"I ran away from home considering the pressure was too much" quick and easy you thought if spilling even a little could get you in trouble and you don't want that.

Not after you found a home on an odd planet.

——

Weeks pass, and you find yourself becoming closer to the high elder, even inviting you to dinner with the quintet. They treated you like one of them.

Life was finally getting better, and you would never trade it for anything.

Not until Dan Feng proclaimed his love to you in the moonlight.

In truth, he was attractive and strong, but you were still running from your problem. Who knew how little freedom you had left, so you had to do what was best.

Reject his confession politely.

“I'm sorry, Dan Feng. You are perfect in every aspect, but I'm not looking for a relationship.”

“I see apologise for wasting your time (name)”

That was days ago, and a small part of you felt like an idiot. The alchemy commission was quiet without the quintet's presence, especially Dan Feng inviting you out for a short break.

Even the group had not passed by, reminding you that the only friends you made here at the luofu were the quintet and Jinwen.

That said, Jinwen had a life; she was like a coworker buddy, even though she was busy.

Was this it you thought, once again finding yourself alone. Was the running worthwhile if the cycle repeated itself?

No, you can't let the past bind you. You got here for a fresh start. You're smart and can work anywhere. Everything can begin again.

Soon, you find yourself filling out a resignation letter that was approved the same day you handed over the paper. You didn't have anyone to say goodbye, so the walk back home was chilly.

Not sure what your next destination is, perhaps becoming a galactic ranger and traveling around the cosmos is precisely what you sought.

Besides, you're certain that the group was purposefully avoiding you for Dan Feng's sake. They knew him longer, so it would make sense.

——

Your feet were aching, cursing yourself for investing in high heels, seeking a big crowd to distract your handmaid. Why was she here at the luofu? Did they manage to hunt you down?

Bumping into people and mumbling innumerable sorrys, you needed to leave, and you were convinced she was chasing you.

At the time you started praying to any aeons above to have lost her and wished you were just hallucinating due to lack of sleep and weariness, yet she yelled your name, which was enough to confirm that this was not a dream.

Bumping into a strong chest almost knocking you out ready to leave, but just as you looked up, there was Dan Feng.

Majestic as the day you rejected him.

"are you alright (Name)?” With a tight hold on your wrist and little time to speak, you hauled him down the narrow passageway in the hopes of losing the person you were fleeing from.

“I think someone was chasing me” you panted trying to catch your breath Dan Feng is drawn by your flausturized appearance, and you seem to have a hold on his heart despite rejecting him.

Tucking in the loose hair that was in the way of your vision, he caresses your cheek while gazing deeply into your eyes and seeing the slight bags under them. You must have been working too hard on yourself.

"Come with me, and I'll help you hide" Dan Feng says, holding you close to him, frightened to let go. Perhaps it was exhaustion working in you, but you inwardly nodded in response.

He brought you to Scalegorge, and instead of taking the stairs, he carried you in his arms. It was exceedingly intimate, and it was the closest you had ever been to anyone.

It was beyond midnight, and there wasn't a single soul in sight. figured everyone was still at the festival celebrating. You felt tired, and his touch was delicate, holding you like fine china.

A rush of guilt comes into your head for rejecting Dan Feng, who is an embodiment of perfection.

You couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge you love him. How can you love him? You lied to him from the start, and your past will only bring bad luck to him.

"You should stay the night, you look tired" he says, feeling the vibrations in his torso. You replied in a high pitched tone, "Why?"

“What do you mean, why? I care for my friend.”

The fact that he spoke with such elegance cracked a small portion of your heart, especially how he emphasized the term friend.

"I rejected you how can you be so calm hate me atleast for a little" going straight to the point as always

Dan Feng was silent, savoring how you fit perfectly in his arms.

Entering the palace with a few guards opening the door for him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck was embarrassing.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're okay!! Thank you so much, Dan Feng." Color drained from your face, all too familiar who that voice belongs to.

Dan Feng lets you go, helping you stand on your own barefoot on the cold tiles. On the other hand, holding your pair of heels, why was your mother here?

"My sweet girl, you got us worried” your mother says, checking you for any injuries before embracing you.

She choked in her own tears while you saw your father standing in between you couldn't really read what look he gave but you knew it wasn't a pleasant one "you kept us worried why would you run like that" harsh as ever, it could compete with the cold season

You froze, letting your mother coddle you, standing like a statue for minutes, unable to grasp why they were here or why they were thanking Dan Feng.

"I'm sorry to ruin your reunion (mother's name), but my bride is quiet tired from today's event and deserves a rest" Dan Feng said sweetly, but it felt phony.

He dragged you gently inside the chamber, and you couldn't process anything because your entire body went numb and frozen. "My love?"

"What have you done?" Your voice cracks as he shuts the door behind him and approaches your form. "My darling, I did what was best for us."

A shiver raced down your spine as he pecked your forehead, one hand roaming around your waist, the other crawling at the back, making its way to your chin, tilting it facing him. "I gave you freedom and wanted to court you in my way, but what did you do, beloved?"

"You broke my heart for the second time" he looked weak for a while before snapping again, making you step back. "You have no idea how pained I was when I heard my lovely wife ran away"

“Dan feng-“

“Shut it" he chuckles sadistically, "till you made a mistake and left your silly notebook on a table. Guess fate ran its course."

The man you once knew was long gone. Was it all a facade to put on a show? It makes you question how many people were involved in his small production.

"I never expected you to reject me like that, so I had to pull a few strings" he stated, placing his forehead against yours and tightly grasping your body. "Leaving your notebook with your name, all I had to do was a background check."

"Don't worry, wife, I'll take good care of you" drawing away and sheepishly grinned, your body and mind not expecting such a thing to happen, not even noticing a few tears were slipping down.

You couldn't do anything, you wept, and even if you ran now, it would be too late since he had too many connections and would hunt you at the end of the universe, which you knew all too well.

"Shh, don't cry. Being a galaxy ranger wouldn't fit you." That night, he comforted your cries and held you in his arms.

Mumbling pleasing phrases at your ears about how he'd keep you spoilt and secure if you just sat still and followed the rules.

——

Dan heng wakes up feverish and dehydrated, even after decades, his past will always find a way to follow his present.

He sighed for the nth time, the same dream every night, and each night became clearer, was his ancestor's sin, and being banned from the luofu was not enough to keep him bound even now.

A gentle knock on his door jolts him out of his reverie: "Dan Heng, are you all right? I'm coming in!" A recognizable voice spoke from the other side.

Sliding the door open, you discover Dan Heng sitting up on the floor, referring to bed: "I heard some noises, March and Stelle, and I just returned from a quick journey; I have a lot of information to give at the data bank!!" You cheerfully said.

"Dan heng, is there something wrong?" Asking with concern when you didn't get a response.

Putting your hand into his forehead to check if Dan Heng had a fever, typically he would not allow you do this, but he seemed like he saw a demonic being.

"I'm fine, just a dream" he nervously glances away, smoothing out the crease in the duvet.

Dan Heng prefers everything to himself, but since you came and introduced yourself as a prior researcher from genius society that Himeko knew he couldn't pinpoint why he gets sluggish.

In fact, March teases him that when it comes to you, Dan Heng can't say no "Maybe it's a good idea you didn't come to this expedition, and your room is sealed, not just that you sleep on the floor."

Scolding the ravennette in front of you recently joining the nameless, the first person you became close with was Dan Heng, undoubtedly you cared for him after all, you two had the same interest the data bank.

Dan heng chuckles at your scolding, reminding him of an angry cat hissing, and then it hit him you looked familiar in this light, your farrowed brows with a slight tint of flush; he had never seen you up close and took his time appreciating your features.

You looked like the woman in his dreams.

——

"What happened? You guys looked like you saw a criminal" you asked, moving around the room looking for a hint of their faces. "We did see a criminal" march murmurs.

You look at himeko expecting she would answer the issues tormenting the mind "stellaron hunter kafka has showed up" himeko responded her guard was still up and you can hear the hesitancy in her voice a hologram of kafka and blade shows up.

"The xianzhou luofu is in a stellaron crisis and appears to be a few warp jumps away" she says with increased confidence.

You saw Dan Heng studying the hologram of blade. "Maybe it's best if you stay with me, Dan Heng Welt, and the others can take this mission" the navigator said, avoiding any sensitive areas for Dan Heng.

Dan Heng nods, leaving the hologram he was eyeing. "I think that would be great, himeko."

“Well i get to see Wel- Mr Yang in action” stelle let out hoping to brighten the atmosphere followed by march “Mr Yang better show us some skills!”

“(Name) what about you willing to accompany them?” Himeko asks

"Of course we can split into two if something ever happens; after all, two is better than one" you let out, matching the intensity of March.

When you see Dan Heng walking away, you quickly excuse yourself and apologize to the group. You seek him. "Dan Heng, are you okay?"

Dan heng hums in replies following him through the data bank, you knew he had a past but were hesitant to ask questions for it was probably painful to him, so you didn't bother.

“Be careful out there (name) things can get complicated”

“Awh dan heng worries about mee~” you teased

Of course, he cares for you in some way. You have a grasp on his space that he wouldn't mind if you broke. He has never truly liked the company of anyone else, but he feels weightless with you.

He watched as you joined stelle and march get ready, leaving him at the data bank. There are still more questions in his mind than answers.

he came in a conclusion when you guys left. Were you the wife of his ancestor who keeps seeking him through dreams?

You can't really blame him if he went out of the train and stepped on a luofu after losing communication with the crew.

#ᗯiᒪᒪoᗯ #dan heng x reader #dan feng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere dan heng #hsr yandere #honkai star rail x you #xianzhou luofu #goodnight😮‍💨

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harrysgal · 2 days

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (2)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

I know I’m just starting and don’t actually have much experience with this, but I’m actually having a lot of fun doing it and already can’t wait to post more.

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 1 — MEET YN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 2) — LAS VEGAS

liked by bestfriend, yourmom, mollyjane_x and 22,108 others

yourinstagram HELLOOOOOOO FABULOUS LAS VEGAS NEVADA

view all 3,045 comments

user1 soooo… a new full time job that took you to las vegas? 👀 yourbrother Please behave bestfriend don’t get (too) drunk without me pls harryfan STOP FIRST LOT SHOW IT’S IN VEGAS

↳ harryfan2 She’s going to the show right???? I mean it can’t be just a coincidence anymore IT JUST CAN’T ↳ harryfan NO I KNOW THIS IS IT I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES

Aug 26, 2021 •

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by bestfriend, cuteguy, mollyjane_x and 22,451 others

yourinstagram you’d think a lady in vegas would be out there getting wild but this one actually has been locked in her hotel room for the last 27 hours overthinking her ideas and freaking out about this new job lol if any of you could send me a pizza or something id appreciate it. thanks.

view all 3,111 comments

user1 nooooo you’re so talented whatever it is i know you can do it!! bestfriend yn ✋🏻 cuteguy Should I give you a call? 😊 harryfan17 I would too be freaking out if I had to work for THE harry styles lol

↳ harryfan16 we still don’t know if she is tho ↳ harryfan17 C’mon she’s in vegas and molly and jeff are following her ↳ harryfan16 still 🤷🏻‍♀️ tour doesn’t start for another few days so this could be just about something else ↳ harryfan16 also maybe she’s there because she wants to be and not bc she’s “working” for him. she’s done videos about several artists and she isn’t working for any of them is she? ↳ harryfan17 Well yes but she literally just said she was starting a new job so 🤷‍♀️ ↳ harryfan16 so everyone just assumed HARRY, out of all people, hired her? c’mon guys lol she could be working for just anyone and STILL go to a show. one doesn’t have to be related to the other.

Aug 28, 2021 •

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by anthonypham, bestfriend, lookitsnyoh and 25,103 others

yourinstagram fun fact: if you post something on the internet people around you might see it 🫠

guess im lucky this lovely group who still don’t know me at all cared enough to drag me out of my room and show me around the city. sometimes i get so caught up inside my mind that i forget how important human connection is — which is funny if you think most of my videos are exactly about that lol. so plssssss make sure to surround yourself with (nice) people. also get some sleep, drink water and feed yourself. it’ll do wonderful things for you!!!

anyway my mom was worried about my “not leaving the room post” so this is just me saying everythings good!! (i also already called her of course <3)

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bestfriend LOVE YOU harryfan the new followers the new likes 😭 it’s happening i knew it user1 so true bestie!! this reminded me of your 2nd video i think

↳ yourinstagram omg yesssss!! ↳ user1 ahh i missed your interactions <3 ↳ yourinstagram i knowww! promise i’ll try my best to keep interacting even if it’s not as much as before 💗

lookitsnyoh my belly still hurts from all the laughing

↳ yourinstagram and my mind is still rushing from all the talking ↳ anthonypham go to sleep you two

harryfan9 I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING BUT OMFG I’M SO HERE FOR IT

Aug 29, 2021 •

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by anthonypham, mollyjane_x, bestfriend and 27,257 others

yourinstagram sightseeing left me speechless. but here’s a picture from tonight.

view all 4,107 comments

user1 omg you’re feeding us this week! i’m so happy you’re being active again <3 harryfan78 POST A PICTURE OF YOURSELF I WANT TO MEET YOU AT THE SHOW BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE

↳ user4 calm down pls? we like to behave as respectful human beings on this profile

bestfriend ❤️❤️❤️ bestfriend i’m losing my mind but i’m also so excited and proud! user7 I miss your videos :( lookitsnyoh when was this? where was I? bummed that I missed it!

↳ yourinstagram sorryyy just a last minute decision after dinner :( ↳ lookitsnyoh ohhhh makes sense now! Glad it left you speechless ↳ yourinstagram i mean the city is beautiful ↳ lookitsnyoh sure thing it is 👽

Sep 1, 2021 •

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by harryfan, harryfan2 and 15,157 others

fanwhometharry GUYS I JUST MET HARRY I’M SHAKKNG I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE NOW

view all 2,107 comments

harryfan64 omg where did you meet him??

↳ fanwhometharry AT THE BELLAGIO ↳ harryfan64 is he staying there??? ↳ fanwhometharry NO!! I MEAN IDK?? I DONT RHINK SO I JUST MET HIM OUTSIDE AT THE FOUNTAINS ↳ harryfan74 hmm not tryin to be rude or something but that sounds like a weird place for him to be tbh ↳ fanwhometharry I FUCKKNG KNOW THAT?? I MEAN MY PARENTS WANTED TO SEE THE WATER SHOW SO I TAGGED ALONG BUT NEVER EVER THOUGHT ID BUMP INTO HIM THERE

harryfan62 you’re so lucky!! was he alone???

↳ imetharry I DONT KNOW?? I DONT REMEMBER I WAS SO NERVOUS ↳ imetharry I KNOW THERE WAS A GIRL NEARBY BC SHE HANDED HIM A PEN WHEN I COULDNT FIND MINE BUT I DONT KNOW IF SHE WAS WITH HJIM OR NOT ↳ harryfan62 who was this girl? Anyone from the LOT crew? ↳ imetharry IDK I JUST SAID I DONT EVEN KNOW IF SHE WAS WITH HIM OR NOT 😭

harryfan15 Hi hun! Don’t listen to people, they're just jealous. It was really sweet of him to sign that for you! Hope you have a great time at the show 💕

↳ imetharry THANK YOU 😭😭 HE WAS THERE JUST WATCHING LIKE A NORMAL PERSON SO I DIDN’T WANT TO TAKE A PIC IF PEOPLE DON’T BELIEVE ME THEN I DON’T CARE I KNOW IT’S REAL 😭😭

Sep 1, 2021 •

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by gemmastyles, anthonypham, jefezoff and 35,109 others

yourinstagram having to keep this secret from the world was the most cruelest thing that anyone has ever done to me. but whatever… it’s fine… i’m okay… i’m just gonna pretend this wasn’t a big deal and i didn’t just watch one of my favorite artists perform my favorite songs… and then i’ll just casually say: pls stay tuned for next wednesday when my new video will be up 😇

(i’ll be back and share more details once my serotonin levels have normalized again)

view all 7,125 comments

bestfriend i love you so much thank you for representing us so well harryfan I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT OMFG I CANT WAIT I KNEW IT harryfan2 YN KASDHUHHD PLS OMFG YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THIS AND LEAVE user1 😲 i can’t wait for this one! harrystyles soz

↳ harryfan OMFG HARRY ↳ harryfan5 ?????????????????????????? ↳ harryfan3 AUIDHIAUSHDBAJH WTF ↳ harryfan9 ARE YOU F KIDDING ME WHATS HE DOING HERE

cuteguy Nice! Glad you’re having a good time darling.

Sep 4, 2021 •

— — — — —

PART 3: DENVER

— — — — —

If you happen to read and enjoy this, pls let me know? 🙏 thanks!! it would be nice to know if this is working, or what else would people would like to see.

#harry styles fake social media #harry styles social media au #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram #harry x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smau #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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pazziville · 2 days

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Can I Be Him — A Pazzi Fic

Wherein Paige Bueckers, UConn’s prolific point guard, has been in love with Azzi Fudd, her longtime best friend and current teammate for the longest time. The persistence in scouting the girl to the huskies was not for nothing. But of course, Paige kept this fact to herself. Yet, even after all these years, behind the basketball star’s confident and cocky-like attitude, lies insecurities for seemingly not being enough for Azzi. Azzi constantly reminding Paige of the reality that she may never have feelings for the girl the same way the girl has for her when she repeatedly talks to Paige about her boy problems, deflates the latter’s self-esteem, while Azzi remains unaware. With the next season around the corner and Paige’s newfound courage to move on from Azzi, what would become of their relationship?

CHAPTER 1.

word count: 1,523

Paige knows this feeling all too well by now. The feeling of her heart being squeezed a million times over as she attends practice to try and get her mind off a certain girl but then having to witness the girl talk to and play with the guy she’s head over heels for on the other half of the court. It’s not even an official team workout day and yet Azzi went to workout with her and decided to invite her crush. Isn’t this just great. Paige thought. “Still at it, Paigey?” Nika enters the gym with a coffee and juice on hand, per Paige’s request when she texted the girl to come save her from suffering alone at the eye sore she was having to face. Azzi and her company, Parker, notices Nika’s arrival and give her a welcoming wave before resuming what they were previously doing. Nika gives them a wave back and proceeds to join Paige in her practice run. Nika notices Paige was completely locked in, not even aware of the fact she had already arrived, causing her to block Paige’s mid-range shot attempt to get her attention. “Sorry.” Paige couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed at what Nika did. She realized she spaced out in her thoughts and brought her arms down from shooting motion weakly. “King of the Court to get your mind off her?” Nika proposes to which Paige agrees, not even protesting. She’s quite literally willing to try anything to get her mind off of Azzi at this point.

“Who’s winning?” Parker asks Azzi, who was currently hyper focused on the King of the Court game Paige and Nika was having. Azzi didn’t answer, eyes still intensely on the game, making Parker repeat himself, “Azzi, who do you think is winning?”

The girl snaps out from her trance, “Sorry, I got a little too focused there.” Azzi takes a sip of water before she gives her answer, “Nika, probably.” “You think so?” Parker gives her a questionable look as Nika was currently down by 8.

Azzi plays with her arm, a mannerism she developed throughout the years when talking about things that she cared about and that affected her, “Paige has a soft spot for Nika. From that alone, she’s already won.”

“Oh.” Parker could only utter. Silence overruled the two of them as they sat on the bleachers and Azzi’s mind realized the bulk of what she just said. “I meant… Since Paige has a soft spot for Nika, she has the chance to use that to her advantage and catch Paige off guard and win it.” Azzi squeezed her arm, not entirely sure she was being truthful to herself.

The game went on longer than expected, Azzi’s prediction being somewhat right. Nika catching up to Paige’s score because the girl undoubtedly had a soft spot for her close friend and teammate. Not until Paige’s last possession. Nika watches as the girl does her lazy crossovers, anticipating that the girl was going to do a step back three, a move Paige loved doing during pickup games. But much to Nika’s surprise, Paige does the anticipated explosive crossover before ultimately driving to the basket. A move that caused Nika to fall hard from the unexpected contact.

Azzi, seeing this, stands up as she grows concerned for her teammate who was currently on the ground, clearly in pain. She was about to approach Nika until Paige steps in her peripheral vision, lowering herself to Nika’s level and checking up on the girl, which causes her to freeze. Suddenly, Azzi feels a pang in her chest.

“Is Nika alright?” Parker asks, but as usual, gets ignored by Azzi, who was too occupied in watching Paige and Nika on the court. Paige went from asking Nika if she was alright, to touching the girl's knee, which got scratched from the impact to the floor after Paige charged at her.

Azzi was smart. Hell, her professors, parents, friends, and classmates would never fail to mention this fact to her, because she truly was, academically and generally. But what she said after seeing how Paige cared for Nika right after her fall was a long shot of being smart.

“Care enough to not be reckless and stupid before the season, Paige?” Paige stops in her tracks. Establishing eye contact with Azzi who was within a distance from her, caught off guard with what the girl told her.

The eye contact with Paige was enough for Azzi’s mind to backtrack, knowing what came out of her mouth went below the belt. “I-I’m sorry.” “No, it’s alright. You’re right. I’m sorry Nika, I should’ve been more careful.” Paige guiltily admits her fault, making Azzi more guilty in the process.

“Dumbass, shit happens, it’s alright. Now carry my ass to the clinic, this knee is kinda killing me right now.” Paige breaks her eye contact with Azzi to offer her shoulders for Nika as support to get her up.

Seeing the two girls’ backs as they walked out of the door together with Nika’s arm on Paige’s shoulder and Paige’s hand around Nika’s waist shouldn’t have affected Azzi the way it did. But, it did. The sheer physical contact Paige and Azzi shared bothered her. Yet, the girl convinced herself it was out of concern for Nika. It was a week before the new season. The team could not afford an injured player. Most especially not a player as valuable to the team as Nika. She offered elite defense the team needed and above average offense the team could use when the squad’s scorers such as Paige and herself were benched.

It’s definitely because of those reasons. Nothing more. Azzi talked herself out of what she was feeling. A feeling so seemingly foreign to her. Or so she thought.

“Not gonna talk about what happened back there?” Nika asks Paige, who has been sitting on the clinic chair with her eyes completely glued to the white walls and not uttering a single word for the last 10 minutes, clearly still affected by Azzi’s words.

The question was enough for Paige to look Nika in the eyes instead of the walls, “There’s nothing to talk about. She was right.” Nika plops down from her seat, making the nurse and Paige flinch at her sudden movement, “Girl, she called you reckless and stupid all in one sentence. Are you really just gonna let that slide without communicating the fact you were hurt by that?” Paige sighs, knowing Nika has a point, but is too much of a coward to confront Azzi. Not when her romantic feelings for the girl were involved.

Silence engulfs the room. Nika, disappointed, shakes her alongside a deep sigh and sits back on the chair she previously sat on which delighted the nurse, “Do that again and I’m going to tie you up to this clinic chair.”

Nika nervously laughs, “Sorry, Nicole.” The nurse quickly gives her a daggered stare for the first name basis.

Nika clears her throat and straightens her posture, “I meant, Nurse Nicole.”

Paige laughed at the altercation and had seemed to forget what went down minutes ago. But of course the universe had different plans for the girl. As she was enjoying the small talk the nurse was having with her and Nika, the clinic door suddenly opened, revealing a concerned looking Azzi.

The girl spared Paige a look but nothing more before fully entering the room, her attention fully fixated on Nika and her current condition, even talking to the nurse for her evaluations.

Paige silently observed Azzi from her seat, not being able to stop her chest from hurting. Azzi had more care for Nika than she’ll ever have for me. She managed to convince herself. As the conversation went on, Paige felt out of place, feeling as if she no longer needed to stay.

She got up from her seat, prepared to leave, “Paige, where are you going?” Nika asks, stopping her from her tracks. There was a part of her that wished that question came from Azzi. But how dare she wish that, Azzi would never care enough to ask. She thought.

“I’m gonna get back to practice… If that’s alright with you guys.” Azzi had her back facing Paige, yet the girl could not get to not include her in the conversation of excusing herself out the room.

“No problem, sweetheart. We’re almost done here anyway. Your girls will follow suit soon enough.” Nurse Nicole sweetly assured Paige, earning a soft smile from the girl.

Paige slowly makes her way to the door. She looks back, only to be met once again with the view of Azzi’s back. Nika sees this and realizes, deciding to smile at the girl to cheer her up a bit. It works as Paige leaves the room with a smile. Not a genuine one but it was better than not smiling at all.

Paige can’t help but chuckle at herself as she grabbed a ball from the rack to start working on her game. This may just be the extent of her and Azzi’s relationship.

a/n: suggestions and feedback are greatly appreciated. this is my first time uploading a piece of work to tumblr, so please bare with me. would you guys want me to post this story on wattpad and ao3 as well? thought of doing so for easy accessibility purposes since i don't think tumblr has bookmarks or something alike. thank you very much for reading! much love. <3

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #wbb #wlw #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #Spotify

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fushigurro · 12 hours

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𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨𝖨

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘖𝘜𝘚 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (nsfw future chapters likely) / an interpretation of "came back wrong" gojo (he's not necessarily wrong, just different) / yandere!gojo vibes / disabled-coded gojo with reader acting as caretaker; it's essentially a learning curve for everybody involved / some dubcon physical affection moments, but nothing serious / 3.4k words

well... we have made it to a second chapter!! this overall idea just really resonated with me, and after learning how it affected others as well, i just knew i had to do my best to keep it going. this is the first ever "part 2" of anything i've ever written, so i beg for just a shred of mercy! i'm trying my best, and thank you to everyone who has said kind things about this story so far. i hope you enjoy <3

The autumn air is brisk and a little volatile, but you feel blessed to have it whirl past your skin—even more blessed to watch Satoru’s flesh prickle at the sensation. Alive.

You had done your best to rummage through the expanse of his closet to find a suitable coat for him to wear—one that would cut the chill of an afternoon breeze when it inevitably brushed across his body. November could be unforgiving, promising winter. You wondered how cold death must’ve felt.

“Satoru, where are your shoes?” You inquired, voice muffled in his closet as you sifted through garments, multitasking in an attempt to compose an outfit for him.

He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on your movements as they often were, mind turning at your question for a moment. He stood then, paced towards the shoe rack that stood outside the closet door, and reached gently for one of your busied hands. Satoru points your fingers towards the collection of shoes.

You paused your movements, eyes curious as they followed his guidance before landing upon their intended target. “Oh, that’s right,” you said with a small shake of your head, bearing a self-defeating smile and feeling rather silly for your oversight.

It was a challenge to become acquainted with someone else’s home amidst everything else, responsibilities stacking upon responsibilities. However, Satoru continued to prove that he could recall more than you initially thought, that he could act as your guiding light when called upon. A little ironic, you think. A little pathetic, too? No, you are human, after all. Just as he is.

He smiled in return. You swore there was even a hint of a familiar light-hearted, teasing glimmer in his eye, unless you were seeing things.

(You weren’t.)

For once, you are grateful for the rather serene nature of the school’s grounds as you stroll across them side-by-side with him, much like in days from a not-so-distant past. The remaining leaves on the trees dressing the mountains rustle with the wind, colored by the touch of death but still beautiful all the same, just like something else you know.

“We can always go back if it gets too cold,” you say as a reminder to Satoru of his agency, his home on campus easy to circle back to should you take the notion. You fear he might choose to freeze himself into another early grave if that’s what you wished, and you can’t fathom the idea of making him suffer simply because he thinks it pleases you to do so. Your happiness is somehow his, and although this is a new quality you have yet to decipher, there’s still something about it that strikes you as indulgent and rather characteristic of a gluttonous Satoru Gojo.

He doesn’t respond, gaze flitting across his surroundings as he walks, nerve endings and six eyes absorbing a litany of information. A silent Satoru used to be a rare occurrence but is now the default, the air somehow punctured by the lack of his voice riding along it. However, his presence is still stark, his being brimming with energy as if to make up for the words he can no longer speak.

Unbeknownst to you, he communicates with you not only with his physical body, but with his feelings, too—waves of energy that he projects outward on instinct, hoping you’ll have the means to grasp what he is trying to say even if he isn’t always sure what it is. It has been rather unsynchronized and sloppy thus far, but with each day that passes, your ability to hear him grows.

You can hear him now even with the only sounds being the breeze rushing in your ears and leaves crunching beneath the soles of shoes. There is something somber about him, more than usual, mixed with that same sense of being lost in a world that feels brand new.

All of it is familiar to Satoru on a physical level—the paths, the buildings, the foliage—but what prickles his mind is attempting to piece together the myriad of strange feelings that arise as he is faced with more and more reminders of a past that he can’t fully recall.

It’s as though the memories are trying to surface but can’t quite fuse into something tangible, something concrete, like when you feel a word forming just at the tip of your tongue but it never arrives. He can sense them deeply in his body, almost experience a brief image flashing like lightning through his mind before it disappears. Satoru’s frustration is palpable, and he reaches for your hand.

Icy-cold fingers nipped by autumn intertwine with yours, tethering him in place as his fractured mind aches with the burden of obscurity. His physical affection is new to you, but you allow it—welcome it, even. As much as the earnest displays contrast with his previous tiptoeing around connection, it is yet another thing you can’t bear to turn down, not after everything that’s happened.

You hope it isn’t simply guilt of all things compelling you to accommodate him, but wouldn’t it be equally bad to do it for selfish reasons? Could one misconstrue it as taking advantage, of feeding off his need to satisfy some part of you that had always wanted him?

The various implications make your head swim with conflict, so you force yourself to shut them down for the time being. Satoru is only holding your hand, nothing more, at least for the moment. There had of course been instances of his lips pecking against your own, wandering down to your neck, his hand settling on your waist as if to draw you closer… but you’d always managed to divert his attention in one way or another, severing the connection before either of you could become too engrossed in it. He never seemed overly perturbed to shift direction, but you couldn’t help but wonder just how long his patience might last, and if you’d be able to figure out what you even were to him before then.

Needless to say, nothing could have ever prepared you for something like this. What drives you forward more than anything is your contentment with the fact that he’s here walking the earth with you, as whole as he can be after having been stolen from the arms of death. And despite the abundance of challenges, part of you can’t help but feel special for being chosen to face them.

When your feet bring you near the school’s entrance, gates opening way for a path down the mountain, Satoru stops dead in his tracks, alert like an animal that’s suddenly caught a scent. His grip on your hand tightens, heart plummeting into his stomach as something takes hold of him, something he likely couldn’t put into words even if he had the ability to speak.

You turn to check over him with your gaze, concern etched upon your features at the immediate change of pace. “Satoru…?” you call softly, yearning for a chance to be able to peek into his mind. All you can do is feel the chill of his demeanor.

His name drifting upon your voice earns a split second of his attention, but he is, for once, captivated by something else.

Pierced gut. Blocked throat. Summer sun and the sounds of buzzing.

It��s a memory that lives in his body but not his conscious mind, an instinct telling him to heed the surroundings for a threat that once was. He relives it with a rapid heartbeat, knows it bears importance, but he can only recall shreds of information that don’t merge together to form a full picture. He simmers in mounting frustration.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Boiling blood—the brink of death.

Satoru turns on a dime and faces a figure in the distance, on guard and brimming with a sort of defensiveness you’d never quite seen before, at least not coming from him. Muscles rigid, he squeezes your upper arm as if to warn you, to keep you close, his extraordinary senses absorbing information quicker than you can even pivot to see what it is he’s looking at.

From around the corner of a building emerges Megumi, clad in warm clothes and a mellow disposition. His distinctly unruly hair makes it easy to identify him even from where he appears down the path, hands in his pockets as he strolls towards you upon recognition.

Satoru’s mind runs through calculations as the young student approaches, attempting to distinguish and fill gaps and create something he can take hold of as a semblance of fact.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Something… different?

Megumi’s cursed energy burns in a recognizable way, striking Satoru as peculiar as he instinctively studies it with the six eyes. But it makes sense to him—it’s familiar, even if he struggles to trust it in full. This is someone he hasn’t met since his awakening, but someone his eyes have certainly seen before.

You can sense the fear radiating off Satoru’s being and into yours, the presence of someone other than you agitating his already troubled state. You must act.

“Look, it’s Megumi,” you say softly with an encouraging smile, encasing his hand with your palm and hoping that your pleasant reaction takes the edge off. Satoru is reluctant to avert his gaze, but does so anyway, blue darting in your direction to witness the happiness written in your features. You appear to trust this person, and he trusts you, so despite the pounding in his chest, the sorcerer relaxes his grip.

You guide Satoru to take a few steps forward with you to meet Megumi as he draws nearer, a tired but welcoming smile turning your lips upward to greet him. It’s nice to see the boy alive and well in the aftermath of his own debacle—or at least as well as someone could possibly be. You wish there had been something more you could’ve done to help him recover, but it was known to many that you happened to have your hands full at the moment. Hopefully he will understand.

“Hey,” Megumi utters quietly, eyes scanning over your face and then his teacher’s, trying to briefly assess your individual states.

“Hi, Megumi,” you respond, appraising him yourself. He seems to be all in one piece, which you had been informed of, but had yet to see yourself. It’s nice to have visual confirmation. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he replies quickly, flatly, minimizing himself as usual. His voice is more sincere when inquiring about your wellbeing. “And you?”

You grin, finding a way to sum up your experience without overwhelming him. “Hanging in there,” you muse with a breathy chuckle. There’s no use in worrying him with all the details of Gojo’s current condition and how it has subsequently flipped your world upside down, but Megumi is shrewd, and you’re sure he can come to some sort of conclusion, especially when briefed by the others who have eyes on the situation.

Megumi awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, skirting around vulnerability and concern as his next question arises. “Gojo-sensei… how are you doing?”

Satoru has been silent all the while, of course, but sorting through every detail while you and his former student exchange pleasantries. Neurons fire, rewiring frazzled connections, giving him a glimpse at how this boy is not the same as the one he bears a resemblance to.

Megumi isn’t sure what sort of response to expect; in fact, he feels silly for expecting one at all, posing a question that he’s fairly certain can’t be answered directly. But how else was he meant to conduct himself in such an interaction, to show that he cares? To speak as if Gojo weren’t even there would feel like even more of an insult.

You’re caught in the middle, watching Satoru’s face and seeing the gears turning in his head. “I think we’re all just… learning how to adjust to things, y’know?” you reply with a rather vacant smile, turning back to Megumi who understands your subtext with ease. Rather than speak for Satoru, you’ve made a blanket statement to provide just the slightest bit of feedback, and Megumi is well aware.

The student nods his head with a short hum of acknowledgment, doing his best to see his mentor in this new light—one he never thought would be possible, not when it came to someone who had always claimed to be so strong. But at least there is a light at all.

The wind tosses leaves around between the three of you, filling the silence with its quiet whispers. You wish there was more to be said. You wish you had a solid grasp of how well Satoru really was doing.

“I think Ieiri said she wanted to see you soon,” Megumi states, acting as a courier, trying to fill the space with words.

You nod. “Yeah, we’ve been in touch. We’re actually meant to meet up with her tomorrow.”

Shoko, while expectedly rather removed, had been one of your primary contacts and supports thus far, apart from Ijichi who shouldered the burden of several essential tasks you hadn’t been able to complete on your own. You felt guilty for sending him out for groceries and back to your apartment for extra sets of clothes, but how else would you manage to make it by? Leaving Satoru alone or in the care of someone else wasn’t currently an option, and taking him outside the school grounds didn’t sound like an optimal idea either at the present moment. So you had to make do in the meantime, and you were truly grateful for the help, but you couldn’t help but hope that things would eventually fall into place. Maybe Shoko would have answers.

“That’s good,” Megumi replies with a sparkle of hope in his tone, then reluctantly adds, “and, uh… just let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?”

You respond to his gesture with a warm smile. “Thank you, Megumi. That’s very kind.” You don’t have immediate plans for taking the young man up on his offer, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. He deserves to rest and seek peace, not fight any more battles for the sake of others.

A twinge of pink colors the apples of Megumi’s cheeks, and he recedes into the scarf wrapped around his neck, unused to accepting grace from others without feeling inclined to quarrel about it. He is at a loss for words, somewhat eager to make his escape before the vulnerability has the chance to further consume his dignity. You take that as something of a cue.

“Well, we—” you start, preparing to make a closing statement and depart, before being interrupted by a sudden movement to your left—Satoru, breaking free from his fixed state to perform a familiar gesture.

As if finally making a connection, he grins and mimics the Ten Shadows hand configuration for summoning the Divine Dogs, clapping his palms together and examining Megumi’s reaction with ardor. The student is startled out of his mild embarrassment, somewhat baffled by the sudden communication attempt and the implication that his mentor perhaps actually remembers who he is. It’s a pleasant surprise to you both, and a moment or two is required for it to sink in.

Your face lights up with glee, heart warmed by the simple action in a way that’s difficult to express. Megumi appears to be in a similar boat—taken aback, but ultimately stricken with joy.

A modest smile creeps upon Megumi’s lips as he softly mirrors the motion with his own hands, acknowledging Gojo’s revelation. “Yeah…” he says, voice faint but pleased. “Divine Dogs.”

Every brief glimpse into Satoru’s thoughts feels like a blessing, and this is certainly no exception. It’s refreshing to watch him have a moment of sincere connection with someone other than yourself, and it leaves you glowing with hope for the future as you bid Megumi farewell and make your way back home.

“Head back, Satoru.”

Water splashes into the bathtub as Satoru cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling as per your request, a cup full of liquid streaming over his hair and carrying shampoo suds along with it.

After returning from your walk, you’d prepared something for dinner and eventually urged Satoru into the tub for a bath before bed—yet another activity that seemed to get a little easier every time you did it.

Figuring out how to get him to bathe had initially been quite the challenge, but you had managed to devise a method that had gotten the job done quite well thus far. He might’ve looked rather awkward sitting cramped in the shallow bath with a pair of swimming trunks on while you rinsed him with an old plastic cup you’d excavated from a cabinet, but it was the most effective way to get him clean and preserve both your dignities while doing it. Though you were the only one who seemed to be concerned with such things.

Satoru blinks when a few soapy droplets backslide into one of his eyes, causing him to squint, scrunch, and rub it with his fingers until the uncomfortable sensation eases. He looks at you, almost as if to say, “Hey! That burns!”

You chuckle and shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “That’s why you’re supposed to close your eyes, goober.”

He wants to submerge in a pout, but your playfulness rids him of the inclination. Satoru instead shifts his focus to the beauty of your frame perched upon the edge of the tub, a beacon of divinity as you cleanse him with care and devotion. He takes the notion to express an inkling of gratitude by leaning forward and placing a kiss against your lips, lukewarm water rippling around him as it gradually cools.

You’re somewhat stiff and unresponsive, the sudden gesture catching you by surprise as it usually does, but you don’t chastise him for it; in fact, it takes a certain level of concentration for you to avoid letting your thoughts linger on his current state: hair slicked back; flesh exposed and glistening with droplets of water; lips warm, wet, and eager for reciprocation…

Your mouth receives his but does not encourage him for more than a split second, pulling back gently from his advance until you can see Satoru shiver as the water chills his body. His eyes are glued to your face, waiting for a reaction as you prepare to make one more pass over his hair with the cup to see that he is fully rinsed, this time using your hand to shield his eyes from any backflow (and from your expression, which is surely indicative of your now rapid heartbeat).

The action is enough to distract him for the moment, but Satoru is still on edge, teeming with infatuation and need. He is unsatisfied with your response—or lack thereof—and is frustrated with his inability to express it, but your hands carefully wiping drops of water from his face act as a temporary soothing agent.

“Alright, let’s get dried off and ready for bed,” you say, standing to fetch his towel from the rack and bring it back to him before reaching down to trigger the tub to drain. “We’re going to talk to Shoko tomorrow.”

Satoru is less concerned with the meaning of your words than he is with how lovely you sound while saying them. He is once again caught in your spell, entranced by the need to be closer but settling for the scraps that you give him—for now.

You aren’t convinced of his comprehension of what you say, but nevertheless, you use the sweetened tone to deflect from the overwhelm of watching him stand and observe your every move as you help to dry his chiseled body. Satoru is tall and looming, scarred in the midriff, but compliant with your ministrations; however, his easygoing nature doesn’t keep your hands from wanting to shake against the towel that repeatedly caresses his physical beauty. You wish you could torch every thought in your mind, switch your brain off to preserve the strength and sanity that remains.

You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to remain steadfast and maintain this cycle of “temporaries” until something eventually changes. And what if it never does?

You suppose the only thing you can do for now is try your best and wait and see what the future holds. It certainly can’t be any worse than what you’ve already been through, especially now that Satoru is by your side once more. That is something you’ve realized you wouldn’t trade for anything.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #dividers by @saradika #my writing.#re: satoru gojo

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babybells123 · 3 days

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I recently posted about Sansa Stark on TikTok particularly concerning themes of beauty, love and romanticism (Jonsa if you SQUINT)!! It’s gotten over 2000 likes so far, and the comments have all been positive, but I just received a comment saying “Aegon VI will save her” and had to resist the urge to scratch my eyes out …

Look, I for one want nothing more than for Sansa to be with a man who loves her undoubtedly (and chooses her over her claim, countering all the previous men who have been betrothed to/married to/attempted to abuse Sansa). But I find it incredibly ironic that this is likely an individual who is aware of the Ashford Tourney (hell, maybe they’re even aware of the really subtle Targaryen imagery in Sansa’a chapters - but only if they’re in conjunction with Aegon VI, certainly not the secret cousin who just so happens to also be a Targaryen)… but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they are an alt shift x fan who has watched his brief Ashford Tourney video which barely scratches the surface of the theory (and I too, enjoy Alt’s videos so don’t get me wrong here) but here’s what bothers me - why is the fandom so incredibly intent on ‘proving’ that it is Aegon?

He could be the loveliest, kindest man alive and I still wouldn’t budge on my stance of this marriage doing absolutely nothing to progress Sansa’s narrative arc organically.

How does it challenge her belief of conventionality? Particularly concerning southern ideals of beauty? What is the whole point of Sansa retracting from her current journey, travelling South yet again to marry a man whom she’s never met before? We’ve already been made privy to how wary Sansa is of Harry the Heir, for he could be a “comely monster,” she knows that beauty is deceptive - so already she’d be experiencing those similar feelings of despair … What purpose would it serve to send Sansa back to King’s Landing? A place where she was abused and married against her will? The place where her father was murdered in front of her eyes? The place where she was hostage with no true friends and no family to trust or rely on? Walking on eggshells every day of her life? These are all negative associations. Anyone with eyes and a brain can see that Sansa’a arc is pointing North.

This is the same girl who spends hours building a scale model of her home, Winterfell - in the snow. This is the same girl who refers to herself as the blood of Winterfell, the daughter of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn - who derives strength from that in the face of her abuser. This is the same girl who at the age of 11, manages to dissociate when faced with the head of her father on a spike, looking North and North until she can see Winterfell in her mind’s eye, whose direwolf - part of her soul, is buried in the North ; who to quote Ned “belongs in the North.” This is the same girl who has been passed around like a vessel of politics since her very first betrothal. Who has been viewed as nothing more than a claim to a vast Kingdom, who is not allowed to exercise that claim in her own right. Who has been denied her inheritance on the basis of her marriage to Tyrion - not just by Stannis , but also by the brother she has loved and idolised (and isn’t that just heartbreaking for Sansa?) - need I remind you of the one single person in this entire series who has not overhauled Sansa’s claim ? Despite it being the one thing he’s ever truly wanted? His hearts most intrinsic desire??

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa." (Jon I ADWD)

“Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." (Jon IV ADWD).

I mean, those two phrases in conjunction with;

“It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love.” (Sansa VI ASOS) - which as we know, is followed by a Jon chapter just a page later.

Jon has already unknowingly refuted half of Sansa’s despairing words, as well as silently fulfilling those knightly ideals she believes no longer exist.

So yeah, it annoys me beyond belief when people “theorise” that Sansa will marry Aegon VI/Young Griff. Because it removes her agency yet again, it pushes her further away from her identity and her home that she has slowly but surely been reclaiming - she goes five steps backwards, and regardless of whether you like her character or not, from a writing perspective and how character arcs are meant to unfold - it really doesn’t make sense for her to go back to the place where she has been tormented for most of the series - but then, who am I kidding - these are the same people who don’t believe sansa is an important character and that her arc will either remain stagnant or she’ll just be pushed out of the way whilst other characters are allowed narratively conclusive endings.

But even with all this, even with Valarr Targaryen being a non-Targaryen looking prince with brown hair described as a black prince with a white guardian (gee, I wonder whose image THAT invokes), even with GRRM sitting down and writing a family tree where a Jonnel ‘One Eye’ Stark marries a half niece called Sansa Stark to solve a succession crisis. Quite literally spelling it out on paper for people this fandom just cannot come to any logical conclusions that would make sense narratively, thematically, politically and on a character level. It truly blows my mind.

*sigh.* I’m very tired.

Anyway, to quote GRRM; resolve to be Sansa Stark and take the North. ✌️

#sansa stark #meta #my patience wearing thin #someone sedate me #Jonsa #Jon x Sansa #the black prince with the white guardian

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prentissluvr · 3 days

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something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years.

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,�� dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.”

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours.

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have.

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up.

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch.

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed.

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel.

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat.

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand.

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love.

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips.

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap.

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth.

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible.

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

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starsofang · 3 days

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Just wanted to ask about the autistic!reader promt. How would the dynamic be if it was a poly!141 relationship including them. It doesn't have to be gender specific or anything but just wanted to know your view on it.

this is over a week late but i am HERE

Price is definitely the one who keeps you at bay and provides you a safe space when you need it. For example, he knows how rowdy Soap and Gaz can be when they're paired together, so when you show up at his office with a distant look and trembling hands that are just itching to fiddle with something, he lets you sit in his lap while he writes up paperwork, embracing you in comforting silence. If you weren't in a mood where you wanted to be touched, he lets you rest in one of his chairs, allowing you to fidget around with one of his pens, clicking and unclicking it until it calmed the itch. He only ever asks you what happened once you seemed less overwhelmed.

He loves showing his affection through little actions like kissing your forehead, holding you in his lap, or surprising you with things for you to fidget with, since he knows you love them.

All in all, he's the one you go to for peace and quiet because he knows how overbearing the world can be, having the weight of it on your shoulders, and he never wants you to stress yourself out to the point of shutting down.

Ghost is the one who seems to understand you the most. He's the one you can open up to when you feel like exploding, and he never expresses judgement when you need a moment to break down and let it all out. He can tell when it's about to happen, so he always sneaks you away from the other men to get you alone, allowing you the chance to crack because he knows you need it. He's patient, attentive, and always caters to your needs. He's busy? Doesn't matter, he'll drop everything he's doing to be there, no matter how much it may set him back. You may not be so open with talking about your inner thoughts with Price, but with Ghost, you almost always share them, and it always leaves you feeling more at ease than before.

He shows his affection through lingering touches and attention. While some of the attention is physical, such as kissing your hands and holding them in both of his, some of it also has to deal with noting any quirks or interests you have. He loves to surprise you with things such as a plushie from your favorite show, or remembering how you like your eggs cooked. He remembers everything about you and never fails to make it aware that he does.

Gaz is the one who's a bit more on the softer side when it comes to you. His love is tender and sweet, and when you're feeling in a clingy, affectionate mood, you love going to him because he'll provide without a second thought. Whether it's sitting and watching your favorite movies together, or sharing soft kisses with no pressure of it escalating to more (unless you're the one who wants it), he does it all for you. Cuddling you for an extra five minutes in the morning, showering you with loving words, sending you cute messages when he's supposed to be in meetings - not a day goes by where he doesn't do this for you.

He loves showing affection through pet names. Dove, sweetheart, bunny, anything that reminds him of you, he calls you that. He never calls you by your name, nor will he ever, because those names are reserved for you and he intends to keep it that way.

Soap is the one you can have fun with. While you can of course do this with the others, he's the one that lets you go all out. Definitely matches your energy the most. When you're feeling talkative, he doesn't sit in silence. He joins the conversation with keen interest, adding his own thoughts, gushing over your favorite things with you. He devotes all of his attention to you, and nothing else matters in the world. The fun doesn't stop there, though, and when you take on a new fixation, he supports you. A great example would be baking. He knows nothing about it, but if it means standing in the kitchen with you with flour covering your cheeks and hands, he'd do it a million times over.

He loves showing his affection through quality time. He always has to be around you. On days where you're understimulated, he'll smother you with all the love he can give, whether that be kissing you, snuggling up to you in bed or on the couch, or tracing the outlines of your features with gentle fingers. When you are too stimulated for his touch, he'll linger near you, always keeping you in sight, smiling brightly at you, and silently focus his attention on you until you're ready.

All of them play their roles differently, but they're all important. Being in a relationship with all four of them is bound to be overwhelming, more often than not, but they all cater to your every need in whatever ways you have to have it for that day, and they all love you in their own ways <3

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bones-aa · 3 days

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Yan!MIGUEL O'HARA (Platonic) pt 2

warnings; Yandere themes, Platonic fatherly love (not really).

genuinely, I never thought that the previous post would garner that much attention but here we are, hi yall :) this is the very anticipated (not really) second part to the first miguel post i made. the hype for atsv has gone but my love for daddy (platonically) miguel will never leave 😔 anyways hope u enjoy it pookies <3

The dull throbbing pain in your shoulder was a reminder of what happened to you. Something that you would have never imagine, in your worst nightmares would happen to you.

Getting kidnapped? A hero? It was unheard of. As a spider person, your strength should've been unparraleled, it should have saved you.

But no. To him, Miguel, your strength was nothing compared to his. So you were here, trapped in a room that was unmarked. You had looked around and it was unrecognisable. The room was scarce, plain only the white walls to comfort you.

You tried to sit up, tried being the key word here. The paralysis barely wore off making it hard to do anything but just lie there and sit in the reality of your situation. You were kidnapped. By your delusional boss who thinks that you need his saving. His protection.

But you definitely fucking didn't. It was offensive that he would suggest that in the first place.

The doors that were across the room opened up, a low hiss signalling the entrance of your kidnapper. There stood Miguel, the man who paralysed and kidnapped you walked towards you. You couldn't move, you needed to get as far away from him as possible.

You watched as he moved to caress your face, wiping the stray tear that escaped your face as the man stared at you with the disgustingly longing look in his eyes.

"Don't cry mi hija, you'll feel better the venom will wear off, hm? I'll be here." That's exactly what you didn't want, it was impossible to hold off the tears but you didn't want to be vulnerable in front of this monster. The reality of the situation begs your reaction, this man who claimed to wanted to protect you hurt you. How else could you react?

The tears fell. You couldn't even look away, you were stuck in this state where the hands of your kidnapper continued to stay by you, giving you hushed whispers of comfort. It was disgusting.

After awhile of his creepy comforting, his watch buzzed with a message. He lifted his arm in annoyance and checked the message. He groaned and you assumed it was a mission, he looked back at you. He didn't want to go.

Miguel was broken, he is a broken man. He lost his daughter and with that his ability to care left as well. His patience often ran thin, snapping at people for messing up even the smallest things. But with you it was different. Maybe it was your carefree yet generous personality that made him snap, the way you were so willing to help others even before you had gotten bitten by the spider.

You were truly someone that was deserving of the mantle, the title of spider person. He saw you as someone to protect, he couldn't let you be hurt like he did. He couldn't let you slip into the darkness that he lived in. He had to save you.

"...Although I don't want to leave, I have a job to do." He starts, his attention entirely on you like it has been for the past hour. "The paralysis should be gone by the time I come back, I trust you to not act out."

His stern tone was a stark contrast to his gentle one earlier. You couldn't nod or do anything, but instead just stare ahead. He sighed and leaned down giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. It was all so fucking disgusting.

The paralysis. You had laid there for a full hour and Miguel didn't come back, but the paralysis. It was gone. You wiggled your toes and slowly started to be able to move the rest of your limbs.

You propped yourself up on your elbows as you started to get up. You let out a small groan as you did, your body still ached but you couldn't mull over your pain. You had to get out of there, now.

You held the wall as you started to take shaky steps towards the door, it had no doorknobs. Nothing. You regained your feeling back, it meant that you regained your strength back as well. You decied to test it out.

Thump.

Your fist collided with the cool metal door. No dent, nothing. You shook your hand, the pain sent shocks up your arm. You shook your wrist and pursed your lips as you try again. You slam your fist into the metal door again. Again. Again.

Your fists started bleeding but the door didn't budge. The door slid open and Miguel stood there, you stared at him with your fists bleeding. His eyes widened and he quickly moved to hold you.

You sobbed into his shoulders as he cradled you closer into him. He tries to comfort you but all you can do is cry. Your fists hurt, but thats not what you were crying about.

“Cariño, why did you-“

He stayed quiet as he let you down, he watched as you rubbed your eyes trying to get breaths in. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, what sick fantasy you have in your head, but I don’t want any fucking part.” Your voice soft but every word dripped with hatred.

Miguel shook his head as he sat next to you.

“You will learn, you’re just shocked hm? I know you need this as much as me.” You watched in disgust as he held your hands with a painful gentleness, he looked as if it were his fists that were bleeding. As if your pain was his.

“I don’t!” You moved your hands away from his. “I don’t need this.”

“Your family has abandoned you, have they not? You have nobody.” It was like a slap in the face, but they did. After finding out who you were they treated you like a monster.

“I will be your new family, Y/n, no one else.”

Here’s the second part doneee, im not sure its good but hey at least its made right LMAO

Sorry for disappearing consider this another apology gift !!

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #tw yandere #yandere platonic miguel ohara #platonic yandere marvel

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spideyhexx · 8 hours

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where you're not Billy's (yet) and get jealous <3 mdni

Billy wasn't yours. You knew that. It helped to remind yourself that you weren't his either. You could easily find another mind to keep your company, but you could never get yourself to even try. Instead those nights, you always returned to Billy, also in his lonesome, with no other woman at his side because he would always, already be looking at you.

That's how most nights would go. You would find one another like there was a string attaching you two and you'd fall into your bed, his bed, the grass, the side of a building, honestly anywhere he can get you quick enough.

Part of you always wanted to bite the bullet. Billy's made it clear he would pursue you more than just your late-night rendezvouses but you knew who he was. The type of life he leads and you're reluctant to let that bleed into your life. Fun little relations with him did not carry the weight his love would.

It was unspoken, but Billy respected it, he took what you gave him and that was better than nothing.

So in truth, you should not have had such a visceral reaction to seeing him chat with another woman one night at the saloon. You went there specifically to seek him out, not having seen him the past week made you antsy, but the moment you stepped in, your eyes found him, leaning close to a woman who would lean up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. His smile was easy, his demeanor relaxed, the flirty kind you felt used to.

Jealousy was always a problem for you, but it's never struck you this hard. Never has it hurt like it is as you watch them together.

Against your better judgment, you left immediately, and a restless sleep made you decide to ignore the cowboy.

Billy feels the cold shoulder the very first day. He sees you in the morning just as he rides into town, "Hey, doll, wait up," he says, getting off of his horse and tying it up in a quick manner to catch up to you, but he notices you didn't stop.

He jogs over, a hand to your arm, his big, warm hand to your arm, "Doll, you hearin' good?" He chuckles a little but you don't look amused so he drops it.

"I'm busy, Billy," is all you say to him, even though it pains you to keep your emotions inside, and you walk, quicker, away.

Billy's almost too stunned to speak before he calls after you, "Hey, hey, hey, slow down I just wanted-"

"I said I'm busy," you repeat, your head turning to lock with his gaze. The last thing you catch is his shoulders slumping before you turn forward again.

The entire week Billy tries to talk to you, only to get waved off or completely ignored until he just accepts it and leaves you be. You wonder if it's better to keep him at this distance, this way you didn't fall more for him every night you spent naked with him. But the pain in ignoring him was a devil.

Especially after you hear word that he got injured. Nothing major. He was in some scuffle and all you heard was that he actually got a little beat up from it this time around compared to other times he's fought.

It made you forget your pact to ignore him, knowing how often you were the one who cleaned him up. And Billy didn't seek you out this time. Maybe you fucked up.

You try the saloon, but he's not there. Who is there though, is his friend Charlie. You're barely even thinking through your actions as you walk up to him, "Charlie?"

He turns to face you, with a small smile after realizing it's you, "What's going on?"

"Where's Billy?" You don't beat around the bush with it and you try not to sound so desperate but you're sure you do.

"Uh, I'm actually not sure. Maybe go ask George over there," Charlie nods his head at the other man and you nod, turning your mission elsewhere.

You ask the same question to George, who's also unaware of where Billy is, citing he was back at the camp they've set up a bit away from town, but he's not sure if Billy is currently there.

It feels like a complete lost cause. Maybe even feels stupider that you've asked. Without much else to do and asking around the people you knew to be friends with Billy with no luck, you make your way to a spot Billy and you would typically go to.

In the fields, a small walk from town, where you'd sit under one of the bigger trees and talk. Or fuck. Either or.

A small sliver of hope pokes at your chest that he's there, but he isn't. You let out a sigh and sat down, leaning back against the tree.

You're not sure how much time passes until the sudden sound of footsteps jolts you to your feet. Your eyes lock with Billy, his brow is furrowed, and he's almost storming towards you. It makes your chest ache with relief that he's here. It makes your chest ache with anxiety over his anger. It makes your chest ache with desire because boy was he hot when he was angry.

When he gets closer, you see the cut on his lip and the worry overtakes your emotions. You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, his hand grabbing your jaw. His touch is firm, but not enough to hurt you. Billy tilts your head up, leaving you no room to look away from him.

His words are rushed, "You were lookin' for me? You were lookin' for me, huh?" A scoff leaves his lips after he speaks. His voice is gruff, almost demanding an answer than just curiosity. You swallow your desire.

"Well. Yeah, I was, I heard you got hurt and-"

He moves in closer, close enough that your back leans against the tree and you can smell him. The slight scent of whiskey, campfire and just him was enough to get you dizzy. It's dark, but you can see the tick in his jaw and the intake of breath he gets.

"Here I am," he says, taking his hand off your jaw and gesturing to himself, "What do you want?" There's a snap to his words and you know he's angry about your avoidance of him.

"I was trying to say I heard you got hurt and I wanted to...make sure you were okay," you get your words out slowly, your eyes never leaving his as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Right. So it took me gettin' hurt for you to find me?" There's pain in his tone when he says it and it makes you shake your head.

"Billy-"

"Doll, what did I do? We were fine and then suddenly you were actin' like I fucked up bad. I can't recall anythin' I could've done to deserve that from you," he says, crowding your space till the brim of his hat bumps into your head. Billy seems to get annoyed with it so he haphazardly takes it off dropping it to the ground at your feet.

"I saw you with that...woman or whatever...you...," You take a deep breath to keep yourself in check before you start speaking again, "I went to the saloon to find you and you were all up close with some girl and I just..."

When you let yourself trail off, you glance up at him and see the anger still full in his eyes.

"I wasn't...that was Manuela. Charlie's wife, doll. Can promise you, I am not gettin' sweet with her," Billy says, his brow still furrowed. It made you feel even more embarrassed that you jumped to conclusions, but could you help it? Women flocked to Billy easily. And he wasn't yours, you tell yourself again. He lets out a humorless chuckle.

"I told you I wanted you, you know?"

"I know, but-"

"I know. But I told you. And now you're jealous. You want me too?"

Billy is almost pleading with you to just say it. He knows it. But he's in desperate need of you to finally let it out. You're quiet, your head mulling it over in a frantic manner as he stares right into your soul.

He scoffs, "Darlin' stop thinkin' so hard. 've told you before. All you gotta do is tell me and I am all yours." It feels like you can't speak, your tongue is missing completely from your mouth. Billy's frustration only seems to increase as he rolls his eyes at your silence and his jaw clenches again.

His hands move to your hips, a firm grip, as he lets out a harsh breath, "What do I gotta do? Do I have to fuck it outta you?"

Your cheeks burn at that and he hears the hitch in your breath, "Billy, I-"

"That is it, huh?" He's mocking, finding humor in how heated you get over his words, his thumbs rubbing your hips over your dress. "Been missin' me these days? Got no one to look after you? Just me."

You nod, your head lurching forward enough to brush your nose to his and it almost makes him groan. "You're pissin' me off," he mumbles, like a warning, his lips almost inching to kiss yours, but he restrains himself.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, your breath lingering on him as your hands finally move to touch him, right against his chest. You swallow hard. "Don't know if I've ever felt this much," is what you're able to get out through your laboring breath. Billy takes that as enough, for now, pressing his lips hard to yours.

It's a bruising kiss. His lip was cut and he was fighting a wince, but he did not give a fuck about the pain right now. Billy was starved without you and all he can think about is taking. He pushes you back until you're more against the tree, the bark uncomfortable but that's the least of your worries. His hands pull at your hips to bring your body flush with his, slotting his leg between yours.

His one hand moves to cradle your face, mumbling to your lips, "still pissed off," and he licks his tongue along your bottom lip, nudging under your chin to tilt your head up more.

"Good," you mutter back to him before happily opening your mouth to him, tugging on the handkerchief at his neck to pull him as close as he can be.

He hums at your words, "Oh? You like me mad or somethin' doll?" Billy's hand at your hip holds you tighter, "is that why you're doin' this to me?"

You don't answer, your lips trailing along his jaw and to his neck. Your hand grasps the back of his head, pulling his head back a little to expose more of his neck, enough to find his spot that you found. That he didn't even know about until he slept with you.

As you suck at the spot, biting the skin enough to leave the start of a mark, Billy refrains from moaning, but you hear him mumble, "fuck's sake," before he's pulling back from you and taking his belt off.

"Ground?" He takes his belt off so easily it distracts you, but you nod.

"Ground," you reply, moving yourself to the grass. Billy doesn't waste a second, taking his jacket off and laying it out so you can sit on it.

He nudges you to lay back and gets on you so quick, it makes your breath run fast. "Billy," your voice is breathy, his head burying into your neck, leaving surprisingly soft kisses as he fumbles to push his pants down.

You help the best you can, then swat his hand away to fish his cock from his underwear yourself. Billy lets out a low groan when he feels your hand wrap around him. You hum, stroking the length of him once, then twice before taking him out.

"Tell me you missed this or I think I'll actually go crazy, doll," he mutters, his kisses finding your jaw.

"Now I wanna see you go crazy," you joke under your breath, but Billy isn't having any of that.

"Fuckin'...fine. That's what you want?" His hands are under your dress in an instant, and find your undergarments, the thin linen being harshly ripped from your body.

"Billy! Did you actually rip them, I-"

"Darlin' please be fuckin' quiet," he rasps, and you pull hard on his hair in his response. He laughs.

"Missed you. Pissed at you. But still want you just as fuckin' much," he whispers, giving your cheek a kiss as he hikes your legs up around him, his hips slotting to yours.

Billy's hand finds himself, guiding his dick to rub at your clit, both of you letting out shaky sighs at the feeling. His nose smushes to your cheek, eyes stuck on you to watch you react to him.

"Oh, honey," he whispers as his tip rubs through your folds, feeling just how slick you are. The head of his cock catches at your entrance and you both moan in unison again. Billy slowly pushes the tip into you, groaning over it and helping you wrap your legs tighter to him.

"There you go. Still take it good, hm?" He doesn't let you even try to answer him as he thrusts the rest of himself into you, his knees shifting in the grass to adjust his position. Billy grips your hips hard, thumbs pressing to the underside of your thighs as he begins fuck himself into you.

A moan rattles through you, your head pushing back against the ground at his immediate quick pace. You grasp at his shoulder, your other hand tangling into his hair so you can pull it whenever he fucking quips at you.

Billy grunts, his head down and teeth nipping at your jaw, "You actually listened to me. Actually stayin' quiet besides those pretty moans. Not even talkin' back," he chuckles at it and then again when you tug his hair like he thought you would.

"'M sorry," he murmurs, leaving an affectionate kiss on your jaw. For a moment, Billy buries his cock as deep as it can be inside of you, holding still to feel you tighten around him. "That's it...you missed that?"

You nod, your words not coming, but he grips your jaw, "you can speak," he says, his hips snapping to yours, just as desperate as his kisses were before.

"I did miss it, Billy....so, so, so much."

That spurs him on as he opens your mouth with a push of his fingers at your cheeks, your eyes dazed and tongue sticking out a little like routine. Billy slows his thrusts as he spits down onto your tongue.

Before you can close your mouth, his lips and tongue are finding yours, a strangled moan leaving him and melting back into you. Billy's one hand still at your hip moves under you to wrap around, giving your body a slight angle as he fucks harder, his rhythm starting to break.

His kiss is sloppy, as is yours back, tongues a mess of massaging to one another, his teeth biting to your lip, noises tumbling from you both. He breaks the kiss to nuzzle his nose to your cheek, "please tell me you didn't fuck someone else while you were angry at me," he suddenly says, his eyes closed like he's anticipating the worse.

"I didn't," you whisper back to him, "I promise you," you assure him again, your hand rubbing through his hair.

"I didn't touch anyone," he tells you, "nothing," he pauses, giving your cheek the lightest kiss as he changes his movements, slowing down, sliding his cock out of you slowly, but pushing back in hard, his hand moving from your jaw to slip between your legs and thumb at your clit, "Just tell me."

A whimper leaves your lips when you feel his thumb, your hips bucking up, which only makes him want to fuck you faster again, but he holds back. You know what he means the moment he says to tell him and you turn your head head to nose back at him.

"I want you," you breathe out and you feel him let out a breath, his lips tenderly kissing your nose.

"Can I be yours then?" He slows even more, which makes you whine. Your eyes lock to his, his face strewn with hope and deep desire, you can feel the twitch of his cock and see the flutter of his eyes.

"Yes," you whisper to him, giving him a small smile as you ruffle your handing his hair, "then I'm yours?"

He groans at your answer and question, and his hips rock faster again, needy and full of so much want, "yes, doll, you're mine," he rasps out, "and you're gonna come just for me, yeah? I know you will, Bet you wanted me to come for you all week, I'll give you it," he gets out his words quick, your fingers digging into his hair and his shoulder.

"Billy....fuck...f-faster."

He chuckles, "Jesus, doll," he gives you a crooked smile, but obliges, rubbing your clit in tight fast circles as he ruts into you, his forehead pressing to yours.

A heat overcomes you as your orgasm washes over you, Billy smiling as he watches it overtake you. The way your mouth parts and your moan borderlines a whine, the arch of your hips to his, and the spasm of your cunt against him.

He fucks into you maybe three more times before he's pulling out of you, letting out an almost guttural moan, spilling on your thigh, the slight friction of the tip against your thigh is enough to get him hard all over again, but Billy pushes those thoughts aside to move his hands back to your face and kiss you passionately through your heavy breaths.

"Still a little pissed," he mumbles and you nudge your knee into his.

"Ow," he grins into the kiss, a bigger flush coming to his face when you start laughing.

#kk gn #my full on smut writing is rusty but #so maybe this isn’t as good as I can make it BUT BUT BUT #oh dear are we back!#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x you #billy the kid fanfiction #tom blyth #william bonney #william h bonney #william bonney x reader #william bonney smut #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney smut

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starryevermore · 24 hours

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the house of snow (21) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: changes are coming.

word count: 2,010

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: implied smut, sickness, pet name (petal), not proofread

“I never imaged that Coriolanus Snow would be the sort of man to wrap himself around his wife’s finger,” Clemensia said, stirring her spoon in the china teacup. The metal clinked against the porcelain. She lifted the spoon from the cup and set it on the plate before taking a long drink.

You had invited her and Livia, among some other young ladies of the ton, for tea. The rest of the ladies had broken off in their own conversations while you remained with your friends. It was nice to see them. Though you loved your Coryo, sometimes it was good to spend time away from him. It reminded you of how much you enjoyed his presence.

“I never imagined him married. I sort of thought he’d live alone forever. He never cared much for chasing after girls at the Academy,” Livia admitted. Her face paled as though she realized who she was speaking to. You almost laughed at the scared, mouse-like expression. “I mean no offense, Your Majesty.”

You waved her off. “You can speak freely to me. I must admit, it is nice to hear that someone didn’t think my Coryo to be the marrying type.”

“Oooh, your Coryo,” Clemensia teased, brushing her elbow against yours.

“Oh, hush,” you laughed. “I thought I was truly blind when he told me he’s wanted my hand since we were fourteen. At least now I can say I was not blind, but rather that he was terrible at communicating his feelings.”

Livia’s brows raised to her hairline. “Fourteen? Really?”

“He’d been asking my father for my hand since we were eighteen,” you added. “My father refused until Coryo made a name for himself.”

“And of course he would take that to mean he must be crowned King,” Clemensia said. “He was never anything but ambitious.”

Livia smiled and reached for your hand. She gave it a squeeze. “That is so romantic. A man who will take a kingdom so he can earn his love’s hand. People write stories about that sort of thing.”

“That sounds like the stories you would read, petal.“

All other conversation in the parlor had ceased. You didn’t have to turn in your seat to know that Coryo was behind you. His firm hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. A smile pulled at your lips.

“Do you think all I read is romance?” you said.

“Not all. But everyone needs something lighter after reading about history and politics all day,” Coryo said. His fingers trailed off the lace of your gown and to the exposed skin by your collarbone. A shiver ran down your spine. Why had you tortured yourself with this tea again? “Besides, you had to get the idea of a love match from somewhere.”

You watched as Clemensia leaned over to Livia. Her voice dropped to a stage-whisper as she said, “Aren’t they much cuter than her and Lord Plinth would ever be?”

Coryo’s fingers curled into your skin. It didn’t hurt, but it reminded you of how you and Coryo lost a friend. Even if Sejanus could leave the Peacekeepers and return to the Capitol, nothing would ever be the same. You couldn’t imagine a world where you all could be friends again. You reached up and took his hand, lifting it to your lips. He relaxed as you kissed his knuckles.

“Much cuter,” Livia agreed.

Clemensia’s eyes glinted with mischief as she turned her gaze to you and Coryo. “A shame he enlisted with the Peacekeepers. I wish he could see the two of you so sickeningly in love.”

“Perhaps that’s why he enlisted. Because he couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t the one making her so happy,” Livia mused.

Oh, that was such a romantic way to think of it. If only they knew it was because he was so in love with you that he begged you to run away with him. If only they had seen the King so red with anger, how you had thought he would have killed his once-friend with his bare hands. If Livia was writing your story, she would make it seem like Sejanus peacefully stepped out of the picture. She wouldn’t make it seem like the betrayal it was.

You lifted your chin to look at your husband. While his face was painted to look calm, you could see the anger swirling in his pale blue eyes. You kissed his knuckles again and said, “Why he left doesn’t matter. Not when I have such a wonderful husband by my side.”

Coryo’s tight-lipped smile turned genuine. “And with that, I must steal my wife away. We have important matters we must discuss.”

You held onto Coryo’s hand as you rose from your seat. He led you out of the ignore, the both of you ignoring Clemensia’s giggled “important matters, hm?”. Your heart beat hard in your chest as you walked down the hall. He wouldn’t harm you, you were sure of that, but you didn’t like when he let the anger simmer.

Coryo took you to the office and shut the door behind you. Once alone, he tugged you against his chest and pressed his lips against yours. A gasp escaped you, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. Your arms wound their way around his shoulders. You hand tangled itself in his hair. Well, this certainly wasn’t what you expected, but you weren’t going to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

“I would marry you again,” he grunted against your mouth. “I would marry you every day for the rest of my life.”

“What’s stopping you? You are King. The only person you let order you around is me, and I would never deprive myself of you again.”

Coryo pulled away. Before you could inquire why, he was sinking down on his knees. He pushed your skirts up, hooked one leg over his shoulder. His nose brushed against your clothed core, wet mouth pressing kisses. Coryo pulled down your undergarments and began to recite his vows.

“I, Coriolanus Snow, take thee to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward…”

Your stomach churned as you ate breakfast. With every bite, it took tremendous effort to keep the food down. Even with a generous amount of water between bites, it doesn’t seem to help. Part of you wanted to believe it was because you would be meeting with the Electors for the first time since your engagement to Coryo. But you knew it wasn’t nerves. You had had a rare clear schedule two days prior when you found yourself knelt over a chamberpot, the remnants of lunch spilling out with no end in sight.

“You don’t need to meet with the Electors if you are not feeling up to it,” Coryo said from the other end of the table. He had finished his own breakfast what felt like hours ago. In reality, it had only been a few minutes. Yet every effort to eat your own meal seemed to take eons. “I can meet them on my own, or we can reschedule. No one will fault you if they wish to live.”

The threat was meant to make you laugh, and you might have if the nausea didn’t overwhelm you. A Peacekeeper from the corner of the room raced over with a vessel for your vomit. You heaved until there was nothing left, barely noticing that Coryo had came around your side and was rubbing your back.

“I take it back. You are not going,” he said. “They should be arriving soon, but I will inform them that we cannot take visitors at the moment.”

You lifted your head. Sweat beaded on your forehead, and you knew you looked as sick as you felt. Still, though, you argued, “I am fine now. I-I just need a moment to freshen up. Whatever sickness that was has passed. I am fine, Coryo.”

“Is that why you pretend I don’t know you have been sick every day this week?”

You had prayed he didn’t notice. A foolish thought, to be sure. But he never made a comment when you would slide out of bed or would excuse yourself from the office.

“You never said anything.”

Coryo sighed. He ran a hand over your hair, careful not to mess up the delicate pinnings. “Nor did you. I thought you might have wanted space. If you do, I will continue to allow you it. But I will not let you go to meetings and make yourself worse. Go back to our chambers, take a bath, and I will have a physician sent up.”

“Coryo—”

He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Please, petal.”

You frowned, but conceded. When Coryo looked at you with that serious look in his eyes, it was hard to fight back. So you rose from your chair and retreated to your chambers. A lady’s maid was quick to help you out of your dress and undid your hair while another servant drew you a bath. Once in the bath, you tried to push your mind away from your sickness. It was easy to do until a servant came in to let you know the physician arrived.

Rather reluctantly, you left your bath and slipped on a shift before letting the physician inside your chambers. You offered a tight-lipped smile as he gave a quick bow.

“Thank you for your haste,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed. The physician pulled the bench by your vanity over so he sat in front of you. “I am certain this will pass soon, but Coryo wanted to be certain.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said. “I am sure you would much rather return to your duties, so we can make this quick. Could you tell me your symptoms?”

You began to rattle them off, your heart sinking as you began to realize how much you had been sick over the last week. How had Coryo managed to stay silent this long? Did he realize how ill you had been? Judging by the on the physician’s face, you began to worry that you and Coryo had waited too long to do anything.

The door creaked open. Without really thinking of what you were doing, you stood up as Coryo entered the room. He nodded at the physician before coming to your side. You sat together. His hand instinctively took yours.

“Is everything well?” Coryo asked.

“I will need to ask a few questions first, but I am certain all is well, Your Majesty,” the physician said.

“Ask away then,” Coryo said.

The physical looked to you. “Forgive me for my bluntness, but when was your last courses?”

Your grip on Coryo’s hand tightened. When had that been? It felt like nearly a lifetime ago. How long ago had it been since you bled? You used to be so diligent about this. Your mother always stressed the importance of it. She would say it would be important when you were married, because that’s when you knew when you would have children. Children. Oh.

You counted back the days and the weeks, your heart racing as you couldn’t pinpoint the exact time. “Right before the wedding,” you decided. “The day you threw the ball, Coryo.”

Coryo’s head snapped to yours. “That was nearly two months ago.”

The physician smiled. “Ah, well, then that’s likely what’s at issue. I have a few tests we can do to be certain, but I do believe we have found the source of your sickness, Your Majesty.”

Suddenly, you very much wanted to throw up again. Could it really be so soon? You tried to recall married couples that came before you. How long had it been for them? You wanted to say a lot longer. Certainly not a mere two months.

“Congratulations,” the physician said. “Panem will rejoice when your babe arrives.”

You vomited on his shoes.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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