#i think the rest of it should be pretty objective though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vagabond-umlaut · 2 months

Text

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

639 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 2 months

Text

You're Good To Me | Eris x Reader

summary: Eris realizes two things. One, he's in love with you, his brother's betrothed. Two, he's put you in danger.

warnings: angst, mentions of killing, but there is some fluff in the middle!

a/n: This one is inspired by Hozier's Would That I. Eris is so Hozier coded and when I heard this song, I couldn't help myself but write this. You can find the masterlist for this series here or just read this as a stand alone imagine. I rewrote the last scenes to this so many times within the past couple of hours but I think I'm finally content with this.

The late morning sun casts long shadows through the towering trees of the Autumn Court's sprawling estate, dappling over Eris with golden hues. Resting against a centuries-old oak, he reads a book–your book–while his hounds run about freely. Occasionally, they bring him a random stick that he happily throws.

She was soft as an angel but oh, she could love with the fury of a demon–

Clover, his youngest hound, barks, pulling his attention from the book. It’s one that has an adorable chirp to it. His fingers still on the page he was about to turn. Recently, there’s been only one other person–besides him, of course– who can elicit such a sound.

With a roar of a fire, Eris’s heart rises to its feet, mirroring Clover’s excitement. He can feel you too. You’re close. The book he was reading lays forgotten in his lap as he listens for the telltale sound of hoofbeats drawing near.

You had gone for a morning ride with his mother as you’ve done nearly every morning for the past week. How convenient for Eris to be reading near the stables around the time you’d return.

He was strategically positioned not to be in your direct line of sight but for you to come into his.

You’re laughing at something his mother said and the small smile that tugs at his lips is almost inevitable. He lifts his gaze, admiring the carefree expression on your face and the way the sunlight catches your hair. Clover lets out a small wine, tail wagging in anticipation as she watches you. She looks back at Eris, as if asking if she could run to you, and though Eris isn’t one to deny his hounds, he shakes his head at her. He wants to bask in your presence from afar awhile longer.

He can tell your lips are moving but from where he sits, he can’t discern your words. The soft pat you give your horse, Maximus, and the responding loud neigh is enough to clue him in. Maximus stands proud, his long white mane blowing in the gentle morning breeze as you dismount him with the help of one of the stablemen. You traded your pretty dresses for something more fitting for your morning ride. His gaze lingers on the way your pants cling to your curves longer than it should.

A low growl from Clover has him abruptly tearing his gaze away from your body. He watches as you run toward an older male. Your smile is so bright it competes with the sun as you throw your arms around your father. There’s something unsettling about the way your father looks at you. Something that makes your father undeserving of your smile.

While you look up at him in admiration, he looks at you as if you are his most prized possession. An object. He can tell his mother senses it too by the forced smile on her face as she politely greets him.

In the blink of an eye, Clover is darting toward you with an urgency that startles Eris. The rest of his hounds pause, their muscles tensing as they watch the scene unfold. Your eyes widen in pleasant surprise. Clover bounds towards you, her tongue eagerly reaching out to shower you with affection.

“Do they just let vile creatures roam around freely here?” He hears your father loudly ask with a scowl on his face.

“Her name is Clover,” you are quick to correct, turning toward your father again.

Clover turns with you and suddenly, she’s growling and snapping at him. With a yelp, your father falls to the ground on his butt while Clover lowers her head with another growl in warning. Eris rises to his feet and brings his finger to his lips, letting out a sharp whistle.

Just as quickly as Clover had escaped his side, she obediently makes her way back to him. Your gaze follows after her, and it's then that you spot Eris. There's a softness in your gaze as it lands on him. Despite the tension between Clover and your father, you seem unfazed. Your focus solely on Eris as the stablemen rush to help your father, who is groaning out profanities while his mother apologizes on Eris’s behalf.

Eris holds your gaze, patting Clover’s head in a reassuring manner. He’s not sorry about the whole ordeal. His hounds are trained to appear menacing and fearsome but they never attack without reason. Now, he’s inclined to investigate further, realizing he does not know enough about your father.

“Come along,” your father says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and forcing your attention back to him. He looks down at your outfit and a frown appears on his face. “You’re a Lady now, y/n. You need to dress like it.”

“I’m sorry,” he hears you apologize, unsettling him further. He watches as your body is enveloped by a golden glow and when he blinks, your riding outfit is replaced by a soft pink gown.

As your father rushes you back toward the forest house, you can’t help but glance back. There’s the slightest curve to Eris’s lips at that. He waves your book in a teasing manner, reveling in the immediate response he receives. You quickly turn back around and even from his distance, he can appreciate the blush that warms your cheeks. He feels a similar warmth swell in his chest, leaving him already anticipating seeing you again at dinner.

Eris hesitantly turns the final page of the book, as if reluctant to part ways. He had needed something to preoccupy himself with until dinner and with his father thankfully busy entertaining yours, he decided to immerse himself further into the book you held dear. He knew it was one you treasured by the worn-out cover and the pages threatening to detach from the spine. He’s almost distraught at the creases that line the top edges of random pages but is willing to forgive you for it.

His gaze settles on the last words, a bittersweet ache tugging at his heartstrings.

"You are the love that came without warning. You had my heart before I could say no,” he breathes, holding her close. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” she croaks out as she looks up at him, blood seeping from her mouth. “I love you too.”

And as she drew her last breath, he felt his world end with it.

He stares at the words, reading them over and over again. Finally, he closes the book, but the words linger, echoing within him like a haunting melody. They stir emotions in him he’s never felt towards the ending of a book before. He feels lost. Angry. Disbelief. What kind of ending was this? If this book wasn’t yours, he would’ve flung it across his room.

He lets out a deep exhale, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. When he opens them, he looks at the clock hanging across the wall from him. Two hours until dinner still looms ahead. He wants to find you, to tell you his thoughts like you told him to but it’s too risky at this moment.

Rising from his seat, he gingerly sets your cherished book down on the small table beside him. He grabs his coat, deciding fresh air will do him well. Perhaps, even a walk through the village. There is a shop he’d like to visit. Anything to quiet his thoughts and the clamor of his racing heart. The characters from the book struck a chord too familiar with him.

“Hold my hand.”

“No.”

Eris pauses at the voices, eyes immediately finding the owners. There's a notable gap between you and Sawyer, tension crackling in the air as you exchange heated glances. For a moment, Eris wonders if there’s fire coursing through your veins too.

“Listen,” you start. “I don’t want to hold your hand but I want my father to believe I’m happy.”

Sawyer lets out a chuckle. “Your father doesn’t care.”

The look of hurt that flashes in your eyes is enough to have Eris’s blood boiling. “Can’t you at least do this one thing for me?” You plead, clasping your hands in front of him.

“Nope,” Sawyer repeats, accentuating the “p” sound, evidently relishing in the opportunity to further irk you.

“Gods, you’re such an–an…”

Sawyer raises a challenging eyebrow, his gaze locking onto you as your voice wavers, the resolve slipping away. "Say it," he whispers sharply, and Eris's muscles tense instinctively, not liking his brother's tone. Maybe, he should intervene…and teach Sawyer another lesson.

“You’re an asshole.”

Eris almost chokes on his own spit. He fights back the urge to laugh. Not at you, but at the sheer surprise written all over Sawyer's face. Sawyer clearly hadn't expected such boldness from you, and if Eris were to be honest, he is surprised too. Pleasantly surprised.

“Only for you,” Sawyer hisses back, surprise morphing into offense.

“I won’t even breathe in your direction for the next week.”

“And?”

You look at him incredulously. “And?”

Sawyer doesn’t respond. He folds his arms tightly across his chest, letting you know he expects more from you. Your response is a frustrated huff, a sound that would have typically elicited an amused smile from Eris. But not at this moment.

“Fine. I’ll cover for you for all the days leading up to our wedding. Do whom and what as you please. But–” you pause, holding a finger out to him. “–you have to say something nice to me in front of my father too.”

Sawyer’s lips curve into a pleased smirk. “That’s more like it, poo bear,” he purrs, bringing his hand up to pinch at your cheek a little too rough for Eris’s liking.

His fists clench at his sides, watching with envy as Sawyer slowly offers you his arm. Though it’s what you asked for, you eye it with caution. As soon as your hand is lifting to take Sawyer’s arm, Eris finally decides to make his presence known. He walks forward and toward the still notable gap between you and his younger brother. His shoulder purposely bumps into Sawyer’s, a mask of indifference on his face as he does so.

On the other side, his fingers graze against yours. A gesture so subtle it appears to be accidental. There’s no nuance in your expression but your fingers respond, gently lingering over his own. A tug on that golden thread in his chest has his steps wanting to falter. He does not give in, pushing forward instead.

Eris walks into the dining room and settles into his seat beside his mother, nodding a greeting to both his father and yours. They’re already immersed in what sounds like a pointless conversation over Prythian’s economy. Knowing that you and Sawyer will be following shortly, hand in hand, he yanks the bottle of wine from Oliver’s grasp. The heated glare he receives is instant but he couldn’t care any less as he fills his glass to the brim, wishing it was something stronger.

“There’s my blooming flower,” he hears your father happily greet as you grace them with your presence.

“The prettiest flower,” Sawyer remarks in a tone as smooth and soft as velvet. His younger brothers snicker, clearly amused with the drastic change in Sawyer’s attitude toward you.

Eris, however, does not find it amusing.

The grip on his glass tightens so harshly that his mother spares him a glance. She gives him a discreet kick under the table, silently urging him to relax. While his grip on his wine glass loosens, the tension in his jaw doesn’t. He remains quiet during dinner, chiming in only enough to not raise suspicion. He doesn’t dare to sneak a glance at you. Nor at Sawyer. Not even to glare daggers at him for every sweet word he speaks your way.

He knows it’s all an act but the thought does nothing to soothe him. Not when he heard you begging Sawyer to act like he likes you, to hold your hand, to say sweet nothings to you. To do all the things Eris is desperately yearning to do.

The Cauldron was cruel.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well here,” your father says as you walk arm in arm. “A flower like you needs the right soil to flourish.”

After dinner, the two of you had taken a stroll through the gardens, catching up with one another. He told you all about his recent business adventures, gloating over how the deals coming his way were endless as the word of your family name mixed with the Vanserras spread throughout Prythian. It was when the autumn winds began to pick up and grew too cold for your liking that you made your way back in the forest house and toward your room.

“Do you really have to leave so soon?” You ask, a frown settling over your brows. Please stay, you want to add.

“I’m afraid so. I have a meeting with a potential business partner in Hewn City so I’ll have to leave early tomorrow to prepare,” your father replies in an apologetic tone. “I’ll try to make it in time for your next dress fitting.”

“Okay,” you respond, forcing another smile to your face. You hope your father can’t see right through it. “I’ll wake up early tomorrow to bid you farewell.”

“Lovely,” Your father says, the two of you coming to a stop near your door, where an Autumn guard is stationed right in front. With a nod of his head, the guard steps aside, allowing you access to your room. “Sleep well, okay?”

You lean your back against the door in contemplation. There’s so much you want to say. You want to tell him the truth. To ask him to call off the wedding. To have him take you with him, even if its to Hewn City.

Perhaps, if it were your mother standing before you, you would’ve confessed it all. She was always willing to listen. Your father…not so much. Given the way he was already bragging about the benefits from your arranged marriage, you worried it’d only be a waste of your breath. You also feared burdening him further, knowing he already had a lot on his plate.

You worry your father senses your inner turmoil when he reaches out a hand, lifting your chin. He smiles at you, his eyes seemingly capturing every detail of your presence. Almost like he’s etching it into his memory forever. “You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more in a daughter. Your mother would be proud too.”

There’s a pang in your chest and your smile falters. Something tells you, you wouldn’t be marrying Sawyer if she were alive. Unlike your father, she would see right through you and find a way out for you. But you can’t blame your father, either. Your mother’s last wish was to see you married and happy. Your father only wishes to honor it.

So instead of voicing your worries, you nod. “Goodnight, father.”

When you enter your room, you swear your heart skips a beat. Eris stands tall by your window, his red hair glowing like strands of molten copper under the pale moonlight. His gaze is fixed on the rustle of the leaves from the cool breeze, the shadows dancing across his delicate features. He looks ethereal just standing there.

“Your view is better than mine.”

You’re quick to shut the door behind you. “Lord Eris.”

Eris lets out a snort at your formality. He turns to face you with a small smile. “Just Eris,” he reminds softly as you approach him.

“Sorry, it’s a habit now,” you reply in a sheepish manner. You walk further into your room, joining him at his side. “What are you doing here? You didn’t leave a note this time.”

“I finally finished it.” Eris says as he reveals what he’s holding in his hands. Your book.

“You did?” Your eyes widen as you take it back from him.

The spine is gently bowed from decades of being held dear but you notice that the pages that were teetering away from the spine have been carefully attached back. What catches your eyes most, however, is the golden thread dangling from the midst of the pages. Your fingers toy with the autumn leaf charms that hang from it. Opening the book, you realize the string is attached to a bookmark. It’s placed exactly where you had last creased the page you had been on.

“I can’t believe you dog ear your pages, angel.”

Eris’s nose crinkles in disgust yet there’s an amused gleam in his eyes that has a laugh bubbling in your chest. “You say it like it’s a crime.”

“Because it is,” he insists with an incredulous furrow of his brow.

“Did you like it?”

“Like?” He laughs and you feel a flutter of uncertainty course through you. “I loved it,” he admits, soothing the flutter but then adds: “But I hated the ending.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoes, his tone mirroring the playful glint dancing in his eyes.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you remind yourself to breathe properly. “Do you want to talk about it?” You offer tentatively, your heart racing with anticipation.

Eris grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Sitting on the window seat, he adjusts his body so that his back leans against the window. He carefully angles his legs, giving you space to sit too. You settle across from, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Start from the beginning.”

And so Eris does, pouring out his every thought.

He tells you how he enjoyed the author’s world building of the human world, though he knows in reality, it’s actually very boring. You attempt to defend the mortals but Eris dismisses it, claiming he knows their world is dull based on a human he knows. He then tells you how the slow burn romance between the two protagonists nearly drove him insane. That he’d never been more happy to read about two characters holding hands.

“And don’t even get me started on the intimate scenes between those two. It went on in extravagant details for pages and pages,” he says with an amused exhalation. “How something so vulgar can be written so beautifully is beyond me!”

You can’t help but laugh at that, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. Eris continues with his passionate rant and you drink every single word. At some points, he pauses, asking for your interpretations of certain scenes, bringing forth small arguments and laughter.

"I just can't get over that ending," Eris remarks with a sigh, his brow furrowing in frustration. "It's just so... sad. Disappointing, almost. After all that trouble the hero went to save her only for her to still die at the end...”

"But isn't there a certain beauty in tragedy?" you counter softly. "The way it makes you feel, the emotions it evokes. The angst. Because as you read, you slowly begin to realize that it was not her who needed saving but him.”

Eris tilts his head, contemplating your words for a moment. Of course, you would see the beauty in the ending. His lips curve into a pout. He needs to protect you at all costs. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, spirit crushed by the cruel confinements of this court and forced to wear a mask at all times.

"I suppose I just prefer stories with happy endings. Life's already filled with enough sadness, isn't it?"

“It is,” you murmur, gaze softening with empathy. Then, your eyes are lighting up as a thought crosses your mind and you’re smiling at him. “Who would’ve thought Eris Vanserra, the heir to the Autumn Court, is a hopeless romantic with a soft spot for happy endings.”

The smile that breaks out brightens his entire expression and he lets out a chuckle, sending a warm flutter through your chest. He leans in closer, his amber eyes alight with an intensity that mirrors the flickering flames of the hearth in your room.

“And who would’ve thought a saint like you has the mind of a sinner.”

“Hey!” You gasp and give a playful kick to his thigh.

Eris laughs, body relaxing as he slumps against the window for support. He’s lost count of the amount of times you two have laughed tonight but he knows it’s more than he ever has before. When you shift to give another kick, his hand grasps at your ankles. He raises a brow at you in challenge, almost daring you to try again.

“You said and I quote ‘something so vulgar can be written so beautifully,’ meaning that you enjoyed them too.”

“I did,” Eris agrees, lips curling into a smirk as he lifts his gaze. His fingers mindlessly dance across your exposed leg, sending a delightful shiver through you. “But I am no saint.”

It’s when he feels your leg twitch that he realizes what he’d been doing. He stands abruptly and lowers his head. He fears he’s getting too comfortable around you. “I sh–”

Standing from the window seat, your hand grasps for his, stopping him. “Since you read one of my favorites, it’s only fair that I read one of yours.”

Eris's eyes widen in surprise and he turns back to look at you. No one has ever asked him about his favorite book. He read yours because he wanted to, curious to learn more about you through it. He didn’t expect you to return the gesture.

"Deal.”

The word escapes him with such ease it scares him but it’s short lived as he’s overcome with excitement. His passion for reading had always been a solitary pursuit. It was something he never really shared with others, but he wants to with you.

“I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you respond happily.

“But,” he begins, not allowing you to let go of his hand, his thumb brushes against the back of it. “You’re not allowed to dog ear my pages.”

“I’ll also need a book in return. It’s only fair,” he adds, mimicking your tone from earlier. His mind then drifts to thoughts of the both of you, curled up against one another with a book in your laps. Or maybe, you’d read to him while he holds you close, his head resting atop your shoulder and–

“Of course,” you reply, pulling him from his fantasies and toward the other side of your room, where many books were neatly lined atop a shelf. “I couldn’t bring all my books but I brought all my absolute favorites!"

Eris watches as you hum in contemplation. His attention is drawn to the way you tap a finger against your lips. He remembers the way they felt against his cheek. Lovely and sweet. Like your heart. He’s dying to know what they’d feel like against his lips…

He knows you’ve finally decided on a book when your other hand frees itself from his hold to reach out for it. You carefully slide it off the shelf and then turn around, presenting it to him. “You’ll love this one,” you tell him and you’re so confident it has his lips twitching upwards for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “It has a happy ending."

"I think I...," his voice wavers with a delicate tremor. He looks away, his cheeks tinged with a delicate blush over the words he couldn't bring himself to articulate. "You're good to me," he murmurs instead, taking the book from you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your words coax his gaze back to yours and the sincerity he finds in your eyes is one that’s never been directed at him before. It stirs a desire in him that he never even knew he was searching for.

The fire in his veins burns brighter. The bond in his chest sings louder. He allows it to pull him closer to you. You're also leaning in until the book in his hand is the only barrier between your bodies.

There's nothing else to interrupt this moment between you both. No bells chiming like that day in the fountains. No cloak to trip over or lanterns like that night he snuck you out. It's just you two, in the stillness of the night, where the only sounds are your breaths and the crackle of the hearth nearby.

His movements are slow, giving you the chance to pull away at any moment. You don't. He watches your every shift in expression as his free hand tilts your chin up towards him. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

And then he's kissing you.

Softly and delicately like a butterfly's wings. Your lips are warm and perfect against his, your taste sweet and intoxicating. Even better than he could ever imagine.

Your hands travel up his neck and thread themselves through his hair, pressing his lips harsher against yours. Heat courses through him as you kiss him back. You're like a wildfire, burning away all memories of past lovers and leaving only the embers of your essence to light his way.

When he pulls away, a shared breathlessness lingers between you. As he looks into your eyes, it's like the world has somehow shifted. All at once, everything is different. He longs for the night he'll be able to hold you tight and let the blinding light you bring consume him fully.

For now, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing you in and taking in the soft smile on your face that mirrors his own.

But the very next morning, he's harshly reminded that though he's had a taste, your radiance remains beyond his grasp. He fears it will forever, like a forbidden flame that flickers just out of reach.

"Who does he think he is, making demands of me?" Beron seethes, his voice laced with frustration, as he paces back and forth in his study. “I’ve graciously taken in his daughter. I’ve even granted him half of his money upfront. And yet where is my promise?”

Eris, standing nearby, observes with cautious eyes, gauging the storm brewing within his father. He knew it was going to be a bad day the moment he woke up from a nightmare. A nightmare whose cruel grip he still cannot shake off…because for the first time, you were in it.

He prays his father can’t hear the rapid beating of his heart as he says, “Cancel the deal. Call off the wedding with Sawyer...”

And wed her to me, he wishes to add but the words stick in his throat. The painful truth lingers deep in his chest, nestled next to the strings of fate that bind him to you. It’s best if you leave this court and go somewhere far.

Far away where happiness might embrace you. Far away from the cruel clutches of his father’s power and even your own. Far away where you may free him of this torment…but the more time he spends with you, the more precarious the thread his honor hangs on becomes.

He fears that nowhere would be far enough now.

“Call off the wedding?” Beron laughs in an incredulous manner. The gold and crimson tapestries adorning the walls seem to shiver in response to his father’s simmering frustration. When Beron abruptly turns to face Eris, the younger male can’t help but flinch. “When you were the one who suggested this arrangement to begin with.”

Eris’s throat tightens. He had been the one to suggest this arranged marriage.

Your father, a respected merchant, extended an offer to Beron – an offer that, even now, Eris grapples to comprehend fully. It was a proposal that was lured with promises of enhanced power for the High Lord of Autumn in exchange for wealth and elevated status through matrimonial ties.

With no available Vanserra daughters to marry your father to and Sawyer's nightly endeavors tarnishing the family name, it led Eris to suggest an arranged marriage between you and Sawyer. A futile attempt to protect his younger brother from a fate similar to Lucien’s…but at what cost?

The Cauldron must be bubbling with amusement at the irony of it all. For, unknowingly, Eris orchestrated the union between you, his mate, and his brother. This is all his doing. All his fault.

Eris wills himself to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “What’s so important about this exchange anyway?” He asks with a measured voice.

“Jareth has access to something precious,” Beron responds, his words chosen with deliberate care. "Something that may hold the key to immortality."

Eris's eyebrows furrow in contemplation, his mind racing to grasp at what special thing your father could be harboring. "What if he is bluffing?"

Beron's eyes darken, sending a shiver down Eris's spine. His heart sinks to his stomach as he can already anticipate what his father is going to say.

“I’ll kill his precious daughter. Then, I’ll kill him.”

If your father keeps his end of the bargain, you’ll marry Sawyer. Doomed to a life of misery, where danger lurks at every corner. If your father doesn’t keep his end of the bargain, you’ll be the one to face the consequences of his father's wrath.

And you're in this situation because of him. The bond in his chest tightens, the golden strings pulling taut with a piercing resonance. No, no, no. Panic seeps in with an agonizing intensity. The mere thought of any harm coming to you, especially because of his actions, sickens him to his stomach.

He can’t allow that to happen. He won't allow it to happen.

“That won’t be necessary,” Eris says, carrying the weight of centuries of practiced composure. “I’ll ensure Jareth keeps his end of the bargain.”

“As expected,” Beron replies in a pleased tone. “I’m counting on you.”

Eris manages a nod, silently excusing himself. He’s never been more desperate to leave his father’s study. He feels his hands begin to shake and he shoves them into his pockets, not wanting to allow anyone a glimpse of the turmoil raging inside.

It's only when he's in the comfort of his room that he allows his facade to crumble. Leaning heavily against the door, he slowly sinks to the floor. His hounds are immediately rushing to his side, noses brushing softly against his arms.

"I made a terrible mistake," he tells them quietly and a low whine comes from one of them in protest. Then, with a strong determination, he says, "but I'm going to fix it."

"I swear it," he promises, rising to his feet, his hounds following after him as he makes his way further into his room.

You're not going to marry Sawyer and you're not going to be the one to pay the consequences of your father's actions, should he betray them. No. Eris will make sure of that. He's running out of time but he's going to find a way to get you out of this mess. He knows he can.

Eris realizes then he'd do anything to keep you safe, even if it means losing everything. Because if there's one thing he can't lose, it's you.

a/n: and here comes the angst train. I hope you enjoyed Eris and reader talking about her favorite book as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡

tagging: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris angst #eris vanserra angst #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #eris angel au #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra fanfic #eris acotar #Eris vanserra

363 notes · View notes

ymechi · 6 months

Text

Who is the real Creator?

Sorry this took so long I have so much to say but I have no idea where to start. I hope you guys are okay with how it ended and the decision I made. This is a yandere au but with Nahida it is platonic (and the rest of the underage characters).

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, self harm (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, this is part 5, part 6

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reader began to unpack their stuff, it was mostly clothes and books, everything else like cooking utensils was unnecessary as there were attendants who would handle stuff like cooking and cleaning. Reader guessed that was the perks of being an Archon.

The room was a bit of a mess the large doors were open and the boxes littered the floor with various trinkets and Readers personal belongings.

One should not look down on how much stuff one can gather, even in a foreign world. Soon they would be able to write poems with how well their vocabulary had gotten.

Reader took out a shirt and folded it neatly putting it inside the nicely carved wardrobe. They felt a little out of place in the spacious and very fancy room. Yet there was a certain charm towards it, Reader especially loved the tall glass windows that let the sunlight in.

"I see you are already settling in."

"Oh, Nahida! I did not see you there, yeah I thought it was best to do it while I could."

"You know there are attendants if you ever need help, please don't feel too bad it's their job after all."

"Well if you put it that way. . . I guess I could use a hand with the rest of the clothes."

Reader had underestimated how many clothes they had, it was boring to fold them and sort them all. They had bought most of their clothes and personal items as both Nahida and Reader did not know the extent of the tension that Darling's reveal would cause.

They looked through the boxes and one object caught Readers eye. It shined as the sun reflected on it. Reader took it out and observed it. This was a gift Darling had given them, it was a Fanoos that was intricately carved and made out of polished gold. The lantern's glass was made out of various colors in geometrical shapes. Overall it was very beautiful something Reader would like.

Speaking of. . .

"Nahida what will happen to Darling after. . . you know?"

Nahida watched the lantern that was in their hand without saying anything and then looked at Reader with a smile.

"It was decided that they would go to an isolated temple in Inazuma for their own safety. Even if they are innocent we can't be too careful what others might do."

Well, at least Darling would be safe there was no need to worry after all they had the Raiden shogun. Inazuma would be far away though.

They looked at the Fanoos, it would be pretty to add it near the nightstand. . . There was already a lamp there, so they decided to put it on a bookshelf instead.

"It looks very nice on the shelf there," said Nahida.

"Yeah, I am glad you think so too," replied Reader.

Reader saw a familiar hat figure silhouette from the open door. It was Wanderer as they had expected, curiously he was carrying several moving boxes as well.

"That is right I forgot to tell you Wanderer decided for extra security to move in here as well, I saw no reason to turn him down."

"O-oh but is it fine for him to just move like that because of me?"

Wanderer must have heard the conversation as he turned to look directly at them. He nodded toward Reader who gave him a small wave. After the status of Readers creator-hood was revealed Wanderer had taken to being polite to Reader but after some more nagging on their part, he had mellowed down a bit. He did tease them from time to time as was normal between them.

Reader hoped with time they could go back to the usual scowling Wanderer who did not hesitate to say what was on his mind.

However, that did make Reader ponder why he turned polite while Nahida stayed the same.

Reader must have been staring at Nahida as the Archon looked at them with a tilted head.

"I see you two are talking behind my back, not very nice I must say."

"We were just talking about your new living arrangements," she looked at Wanderer with an innocent look, "you know, it made their grace feel really bad."

Reader snorted at Nahida's jab at getting into Wanderer.

Wanderer looked surprised but sighed looking at Reader with a sincere expression they did not expect to get today.

"There is no need to concern yourself with that I chose to move out of my own violation, no one forced me to."

Reader gave an awkward smile and wrung their hands together.

"Alright, but I still feel bad-," Wanderer sighed at Reader, "let me finish! I feel bad so if you need any help come to me okay?"

Wanderer looked like he was about to turn down the offer until Nahida interjected.

"Actually since you both are moving in how about we all take a shopping trip to buy decorations, you can then ask Reader for advice on what to buy, two birds in one stone."

"A shopping trip sounds nice," Reader said and looked at Wanderer with hopeful eyes.

Wanderer closed his eyes and sighed.

"It seems you won't let this go, fine then let me put these stuff down and we can go down to the market."

Nahida and Reader looked at each other with a smile. It was going to be a fun trip.

The sunset this day was a bright crimson and was fading into orange at the horizon. There was no cloud in sight. the people were gathered near the central temple in Sumeru. One of the Creator's temples. Reader grimaced.

They adjusted their hood once again feeling nervous not to get caught. Wanderer held their hand more tightly and they gave a squeeze back feeling thankful.

Soon one of the heads of the religion came out near the podium.

The people were confused and some were curious but it was clear soon everyone would find out what the gathering was for.

Nahida stepped up as well, and she began to speak. Then the priest took over and Reader watched everyone's face turn to shock and outrage.

Impostor.

Reader clenched their jaw and held Wanderer's hand tighter. He did not flinch or let go.

Nahida and the priest calmed the people down in the end but there was still much tension left.

By the end of it Reader and Wanderer left the place.

They met Nahida outside of a meeting room. She looked exhausted and Reader's heart ached. With clumsy hands, they took out a juice bottle they had.

"You look tired, please take some."

Nahida gave a small smile and nodded.

"Thank you."

Her voice was small and a bit hoarse no doubt from all the talking. Once again Reader felt awful not being able to do anything, especially since Nahida was a dear friend.

"Please don't worry about me I am fine, as an Archon this is one of the many duties I must attend to," her face turned more serious looking at Reader, "I am afraid we are not done yet this is your turn now."

Reader's shoulders squared and they nodded. Right, it was their turn now. No more running away and this time they were not alone either. Reader looked at their friends and gave a reassuring smile.

Nahida smiled and nodded at them before turning and opening the door.

It wasn't as intimidating as they had imagined when they entered the room. It was decided for Reader's sake they would ask the acolyte and Archons who would be able to attend to come and not tell anything of the importance of the meeting. Naturally since the recent announcement from the church most would be busy, only those who had time would come and it would not be a large group. It was better for Reader to start off small Nahida had recommended and they agreed.

The Archon’s that were able to attend were unsurprisingly Venti and Zhongli. Yet most people in the room would be unaware of the importance of such figures.

As they entered Nahida stepped in front of them while Wanderer walked behind them, they felt rather safe this way.

The others who had arrived were Diluc, Lisa, Cyno, Kujo Sara and Chlorinde. Quite the cast had come. Now all of their eyes were on the trio but mostly on Reader as they stood in front.

Nahida stepped up to speak but Reader beat them to it putting a hand in front of her, all while still looking at their audience.

The sky outside was just as red there was an odd silence in the wind. The shadows on the acolytes' faces deepened and their eyes became glaring embers of accusation evident on their eyes.

Impostor.

They had thought a lot about what to say, and there were many words and accusations they wanted to scream at the top of their lungs until Reader's voice became hoarse and dry. Yet what were words when actions could speak louder?

They took out the same kitchen knife from before on that day from their pocket. They did not bother to look at their reactions. Reader took out their palm and cut it and watched as it bled a brilliant gold. They were still unused to the sight themselves and took a moment to admire it.

They heard a sharp breath. Before anyone could speak they threw the knife onto the table.

Reader then left the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo @yu-ulda @samohxt2-0 @pinkpainc @vianitry

458 notes · View notes

pastanest · 6 months

Text

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: I’ve got nothing to say except for the fact this is entirely inspired by the song

warnings: shrimp gets beat up pretty bad but you singlehandedly take out like 3 guys so xoxo

Holding Out For A Hero

The entire team, save for one, are gathered around Penelope’s monitors, holding their breaths. As the newest member of the team, you had anticipated that in a situation such as this, you’d be having the least severe reaction to the scene before you, but upon seeing Doctor Spencer Reid get thrown against a wall, you are entirely unsurprised by the squeeze you feel in your chest.

“Damn it, Hotch, we’ve gotta do something!” Derek Morgan yells, clasping his hands behind his head but unable to tear his gaze from the screens.

What should have been a simple task of meeting some witnesses regarding a local case has quickly become a hostage situation that none had anticipated.

There are unified gasps as a harsh kick is landed against the young genius’s midsection, and Hotch sighs, knowing that something has to be done, but the team are presently at a loss.

“Any presence recognised as official could get Reid killed.” Hotch reiterates, though it’s a fact none of you have forgotten.

Another kick causes Spencer to curl up in the corner, his form cowering on the monitors, and you decide that’s enough, storming out of Penelope’s office.

“Must be tough on her.” Emily glances sympathetically at the door you left through, the rest of the team nodding in agreement, seemingly accepting that you had to step out because you couldn’t stand to see Spencer get beaten up like that. While that isn’t entirely untrue, there is more of a purpose behind your exit.

Just a month ago, during your first case with this team, a local police officer had decided you were the object of his affections. While you’d dismissed his advances as politely as you could, Spencer couldn’t help overhearing the conversation, and his blood boiled.

“No need to be so stuck-up about it!” The cop huffed at you, and in the time it took for your eyebrows to shoot up, Spencer had arrived at your side.

“Speak to her that way again and I’ll have you removed from this case.” His words were cool, calculated, and enough to send the police officer shuffling away from you.

Looking up at Spencer with a grateful smile, you parted your lips to speak, but he smiled right back at you and interjected.

“I know what you’re going to say, and you don’t need to. All I did was the bare minimum, as a guy.” Spencer excused his chivalry with a bashfulness that you found beyond endearing, and have continued to do.

It seems that now, an opportunity has presented itself for you to perform your equivalent of the bare minimum for him.

Speeding through the office and over to your desk, you retrieve your overnight bag and head for the staff toilets. Digging through it, you find your emergency attire that’s typically reserved for undercover missions; a thin strapped, silky red dress that’s enough to stop traffic, and a pair of killer black stilettos.

Within five minutes, you’ve slammed the door of Penelope’s office open again and dropped your go bag on the ground, attracting the attention of the rest of the team.

“Well damn, mama, I didn’t think this would be the time, but-“ Derek begins, unable to resist a moment to flirt; with no time to spare, you cut him off.

“Button it, Morgan. Text me the location, I’m going to get Reid.” You instruct, not wanting to waste another second.

Penelope’s office is momentarily silent, several jaws falling open in shock. That is, until Derek speaks up again.

“What?! No!” He exclaims, outraged at your proposition.

You sigh. “One plus one is two, you need someone to get inside without raising suspicion - problem?”

Derek scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, actually!”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention to the only member of the team that’s aware of your applicable qualifications.

“Gideon?” You raise an eyebrow.

With a slow smile, Jason Gideon nods. “…She can do it.”

Derek throws his arms up in the air. “Am I missin’ something here?!”

Hotch is notably silent. Though knowledgeable on the ‘classified’ portion of your resumé, he does not know the details of your work prior to this team, save for your glowing letter of recommendation from your old boss; that, in itself, was enough to land you a place on this team.

You nod, reaching down to grab a small purse from inside your go-bag. “Yep. I’ll catch you up after. See you guys in 30.” Glancing around at the rest of the team one last time, you speed out of the office with a determination to match the loud clicking or your heels.

By the time you reach the parking lot, your phone has dinged with a text from Penelope with the exact location where Spencer is being held by the gang that are currently beating him senseless. Whistling a nearby cab, you slide into the backseat, give the address for the next street over to where you need to be, and apply the finishing touches to your outfit. With expert precision, you coat your lashes with thick layers of mascara, only to rub them, then hold your eyes open long enough to induce tears that cause trails of mascara to run down your cheeks. And with reckless abandon, you tear a slit up the right side of your dress. As the cab pulls up on the next street over to your destination, you step out with a grateful tip and begin your walk.

The closer you get to the only lit up house on the mostly empty street, you ensure your steps are unsteady and work yourself up enough, focussing your thoughts on what Spencer has endured until now to force fresh tears and actual upset to bubble in your chest. Approaching the house, you raise a shaking fist to knock on the door with deliberate weakness. The doorknob twists, and you sniffle. Action.

Standing in the doorway are the very men you’re here to see, and your bottom lip trembles as you give them your biggest doe eyes.

“H-Hello, I’m so sorry to bother you, b-but I was just wondering if I could use your phone? M-My boyfriend broke mine.” You blubber, holding your face in your hands for dramatic effect. Stuttering to feign anxiety and upset, mention of a boyfriend but purposely indicating mistreatment and vulnerability: you are no more than an easy target.

The men share a smirk.

“Oh, of course! You poor thing! C’mon in!” One of them says, ushering you inside with a cheshire grin.

These poor fools really think they’re lucking out with a punching and an upgrade from a sock.

Nodding gratefully, you stumble into their shack of a ‘home’, knowing this is just a temporary hold up for them, and mainly a location to hold Spencer.

“Wh-Who’s that?” You ask shakily, eyes widening with what should be pretend shock, but your surprise at seeing the sorry state of your favorite genius is as genuine as your intentions in being here.

At the sound of your voice, the one eye Spencer has that isn’t black with bruising, winces as it opens, then widens as much as it can to take you in. Are you real, or a vision from heaven? He’s asked himself that everyday since you joined the team, but that question has never felt more relevant than it does in this moment.

“Ignore him.” One of the other men instructs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and dragging you harshly over to a chair at the dining table.

That quick glance in Spencer’s direction was enough to bring him a second wind, a cause to fight to stay conscious. The mascara stains down your cheeks and the tear in your dress - which, on any other occasion, Spencer is sure would send him into cardiac arrest - cause alarm bells to ring in the mind of a genius. Who made you cry? Did someone hurt you? What are you even doing here? The questions in his mind are ordered in importance to Spencer, the blood in his veins that’s fighting to fix the wounds he’s sustained through his beating, burning under his skin at the thought of someone having harmed you in any way, despite his current circumstances.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” One of the men asks, and you pretend that the thought of your completely fictional boyfriend makes you wince.

“He stood me up.” You cry weakly, putting on the performance of your life.

Spencer wonders if his injuries have made him delirious as he now prioritizes whether his heart should have spluttered at your mention of a boyfriend he is certain - because he’s currently scanning through his eidetic memory at the speed of light - you have never referred to having before.

“Oh, now, what kind of man stands up a dime like you?” The man who had invited you in, jeers.

“Thank you.” Sniffling, a small smile reaches your face as all three men stand within range; one at the table with you, one against the wall to your right, the other standing behind your chair. Perfect.

The team crowd around Penelope’s monitors, the anxiety in the room palpable.

“What the hell is she doing?!” Derek yells, frustrated and confused by Gideon’s allowance for your reckless one-woman suicide mission.

“Trust me, if anyone can do this, she can.” Jason attempts to reassure the worries of everyone, a soft smile on his face as he watches you do what you do best: set your scene.

“She’s ballsy, that’s for sure.” Emily comments, undeniably impressed.

The air in the office is thick, the tension only capable of cutting with a knife; there’s a certain irony in that.

One of the men pats your shoulder with force.

“You stay with us, we’ll take care of you.” He laughs darkly, and you smile up at him.

Alright, show’s over.

Standing from your chair, you pretend to stumble over to the front door, before locking it.

“What’re you doing, pretty lady?” The man leaning against the wall asks you with a smirk.

“Actually, boys, I think you’ll find it’s me that’s going to be taking care of you. Or, to put it another way-“ Reaching into your purse, you grab a makeup wipe and quickly remove the mascara from your cheeks, smirking right back at all three men. “-I’ll be taking you out.” Looking to the corner of the room, you smile at Spencer. “Sit tight, handsome.”

He must be dead, he thinks. Doctor Spencer Reid, beaten to death and the best comfort his subconscious can provide him is the illusion of you calling him handsome.

Pulling the slit of your dress just a little higher, you retrieve the blade previously concealed in a particularly scandalous garter you acquired entirely for the aesthetic, and twirl it around your fingers.

“So, any takers? Let’s see, eenie-“ You point your blade at the man leaning against the wall, “-meenie,” You point it to the man who is standing behind the chair you’d sat in, “-minie,” You point it at the man sitting at the table, and as he reaches for something in his pocket, your eyes twinkle with mischief. “-mo!” You chirp, throwing your blade at the exact moment he raises his arm to you, pinning his wrist to the table.

In a fraction of a second, both of the other men lunge for you, and you manage to roll out of their way in the nick of time.

“Awh, c’mon guys, fair’s fair! At least give a girl a chance!” You taunt, kicking your killer heels off and chucking both at the larger man’s head, sending him stumbling backwards into the wall with the impact. One on one, much better.

Sights set on the only other person standing up in this room, you watch as his eyes dart to Spencer, and in an instant you’ve rolled back across the floor to stand in front of the corner that he’s cowered in.

“Don’t you dare.” You threaten quietly, icy stare fixed on the last man standing.

“Oh, but pretty lady, you’ve got nothing left to throw! You’re out of options.” He sneers, taking a step closer to you.

Very presumptuous to suggest you actually needed your props beyond your dramatic flair and desire to get this done as quickly as possible.

But, in the moment, you decide to humor him.

Pretending to cower further into the corner with Spencer at your feet, your eyes widen with feigned fear, the confidence in the idiot’s smirk growing as he takes another step.

“That’s it. We can forget all about this. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?” The man’s voice softens with condescension, and you nod up at him with your doe eyes.

Does he seriously think you’d incapacitate both of his friends and then decide to sleep with him? Men.

Counting the seconds, you wait until his figure looms over with you, and you lean back against the wall. You hold his gaze, doe eyes widening and bottom lip trembling, until the facade drops like a mask. Fury is a woman, and she wears a torn red dress with a smirk, her heels having left imprints on some idiot’s skull.

The last man standing’s smirk drops to a confused frown, but he doesn’t have time to step back before you lift your leg and send your knee into his crotch with as much force as you can. And while he stumbles backwards, you kick him to the floor, then kick his midsection again for good measure.

With him dealt with, you walk back over to your heels and slip them on, but as the man they previously knocked out begins to stir, you issue a well deserved roundhouse kick to send him back to sleep. Strolling over to the man who’s wrist you pinned to the table, you find that he is very clearly in shock and losing a lot of blood, but not enough to be dead just yet; you left the blade in for a reason.

“My team are watching, and they’ve probably called an ambulance by now. Whether they’ll make it in time to save you or not, I don’t care. For your sake, though-“ You pull the blade out of his wrist, tucking it back into your garter and watching the blood gush against the table, leaning close to the man’s ear. “-I wouldn’t bother applying pressure to that, because if you live long enough to serve your sentence and get out, I’ll do much worse than what I’ve been allowed to do here on company time.” And with a malicious smile, you stand back up, then spin on your heel and rush over to Spencer.

Crouching down beside him, you brush his hair out of his eyes with your fingertips, tucking it behind his ears just the way he likes it.

“Hey, pretty boy. Sorry for the wait.” You give him a sweet smile, your tone gentle, far and away from the venom with which you’d been speaking throughout your cleanup operation.

Spencer tries to speak, but immediately starts spluttering and clutching at his bruised abdomen.

“Shh, shh, don’t speak, it’s okay. The team’ll be here soon.” You coo, continuing to stroke his hair behind his ears, though it’s no longer out of place.

“N-No, it’s important.” Spencer utters, voice hoarse and strained.

Your eyebrows furrow as you lean closer to him so that he doesn’t have to try speaking any louder. “What is it?”

Taking a deep, wheezing breath, Spencer manages to find his voice again.

“Think…I know someone…who can fix your dress.”

You blink rapidly, a wide smile spreading on your face as his words set in, before you start laughing heartily.

And Spencer struggles, but he opens his one good eye to gaze upon your smiling features above him, etching every detail to his eidetic memory.

“So, I can assume that you like the dress, then?” You ask rhetorically.

This time, Spencer doesn’t say anything. Instead, you watch in equal amazement and amusement as a smirk curls at the corner of his split lips.

Within a matter of minutes, the rest of the team pull up in government issue vehicles with police cars and ambulances close behind, your targets being tended to and arrested, while Hotch and Derek help carry Spencer out to the ambulance. Due to the severity of his beating, the paramedics advise it’s best to keep him unconscious and medicated for the journey to the hospital. Naturally, you sit at his side, holding his hand the whole way.

And that’s a gesture you continue the moment he’s been checked over, too. You stay at Spencer’s hospital bedside, holding his hand until he regains consciousness, at which time you relay his diagnosis from the doctors: no serious injuries or internal bleeding, just a large amount of bruising that’ll be substantially painful for a while. Spencer is relieved by the news, but mostly relieved by your presence. He’s so simultaneously exhausted, and taken by the way you glow at his bedside, he can hardly say more than a continuous mantra of “Thank you”.

Due to his lack of serious injury, Spencer is cleared to return to work without delay, under the advice of being careful of his bruises when out in the field. In truth, Spencer knows that as long as you’re around, he won’t feel an ounce of the pain that’s supposed to be plaguing him.

The very next night, the team are called back into the office for a case, and the smile on your face when you see Spencer has him questioning once again how you can possibly be real. You seem so much more like a vision from heaven, or of heaven itself.

It’s late and the flight to the location of the case is a long one, so Hotch instructs everyone to board the jet and get some sleep, assuring you all that he’ll wake you with enough time for a briefing before you land. And the ever-calculated Spencer Reid knows exactly how to use this to his advantage. Counting in his head the average time it takes someone to fall asleep, he waits for each and every member of the team fo fall asleep before he rises from his seat on the jet and crosses the cabin to sit beside you, visibly giddy.

“I was thinking about what you said to those guys.” He begins, words rushed because he doesn’t have the patience to greet you right now.

“Which part?” You ask with an amused smile.

“When you said you’d take them out.” Spencer clarifies quickly. “I’ve been thinking about those words a lot, and- well,” He chuckles nervously. This is about to be the cheesiest thing he’s ever said. “-I wondered if you might consider letting me take you out, but in a different way?”

Your expression flashes to one of surprise, the realization hitting you like the sweetest bullet. “Like a date, or a different method of incapacitation?” You ask playfully, accurately predicting the way Spencer’s eyes widen in panic at the thought of the double entendre.

“A date!” He squeaks.

You can’t help giggling, nodding at him. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you for asking, Spencer.”

The relief on his face is palpable. In fact, he’s never felt his face relax quite like it did in that moment. “No, thank you for accepting. Are you, uh, free on Saturday, by any chance? If we don’t get called away on a case?” Spencer enquires, desperately hoping that he isn’t coming across as too eager.

You grin. “I am.”

“Good.” Spencer answers, a shy smile on his face as the reality of this situation sets in.

“Are you going to sleep?” You ask him quietly.

“To be honest, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to sleep at all until Saturday.” Spencer chuckles nervously.

You giggle at that. “Well, it’s probably a good idea to try. Do you mind if I borrow your shoulder?” You question with a teasing smile.

“No! Not at all!” Spencer says without hesitation.

“Thanks, handsome.” You say softly, resting your head on his shoulder from where you sit beside him on the jet, bundling your blanket around yourself.

There it is again, Spencer thinks. Unless this plane crashed in a microsecond and killed everyone onboard, he’s pretty sure that this time, it’s not his subconscious creating a comforting illusion. You really did call him that.

And, in light of such a life-altering revelation, Spencer plucks up courage that he didn’t know he had.

“You’re always welcome, beautiful.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #SoundCloud

873 notes · View notes

blissfullyapillow · 8 months

Text

Spoiling your boyfriend with your lavish funds ($$) & how he spoils you in return

Fem reader

wc: 3,872~

Summary: How you spoil your boyfriend with soft & cute scenarios

Characters: Welt, Sampo, Dan Heng, Luocha, Neuvillette, Blade

Pillow Talks: If I ever have a partner I’ll spoil them to the ends of the Earth. For now, I’ll just spoil myself. This is super fluffy.

Masterlist

⋮ Sampo જ⁀➴

Will not object, if anything he encourages your spending on him

You’d think he’d just take and take from you without a care in the world… and that’s partially true. He holds you dear to his heart so he’ll actually get you things too or perform surprising acts of service for you

Will fight for you, no questions asked

“Heyyyy babe, how was your day?” Sampo is at the door, greeting you after a long day of work. He’s already bending down to slip your shoes off your sore feet.

You chuckle at his eagerness. “I had a great day! You don’t have to do this for me you know, I am a perfectly capable and—“ “yeah yeah I know. I started the bath for you already. Oh, and I’m joining you.” Sampo ignores your pout, opting to kiss those pretty lips of yours instead.

You feel the fatigue of the day start to seep in as you return his kiss; all the fight you previously had in you vanishes. Sampo smirks to himself when he pulls away and you remain silent.

He wastes no time in leading you to your shared bathroom. Sampo offers to help you strip so you let him. Your mind is still slow and trying to catch up, so before you know it you’re being eased in a warm bath.

You sigh in content at the pleasant feeling of the warm water on your tense muscles.

Sampo apparently took the luxury of making the bath look pretty. You finally notice the little rose petals scattered about the water.

Speaking of Sampo, where is he? He said he’s get in with you.

Just as you look around the room for him he walks back in. “Sorry, I forgot to grab this.” Is all he says as he flashes you a cheeky smile.

He’s already stripped down so he moves to sit behind you. Before he gets in though, he tosses something into the water.

You curiously eye the little ball he threw in as be gets settled behind you. As pretty colors start to swirl in the water and a calming scent envelopes the room, you realize it was a bath bomb he threw in.

You watch in tired delight as beautiful colors swirl around in the tub. “I thought you wanted to use this bath bomb by yourself?” You sound tired as you murmur the words, and Sampo guides you to lean your back against him.

As your back meets his chest his arms reach over you to grab something. He situates himself again, and you feel something on your arms.

You jump at the unexpected feeling, but settle down when you realize he’s just cleaning you up.

“Heh. A little jumpy are we?” He dodges the hand you try to slap him with. “In regards to what you said earlier, well, I lied. I asked for that pack of bath bombs so I can use them with you.” Sampo’s words make you smile.

Sampo’s soft touches put you at ease. You find yourself closing your eyes as your body completely relaxes in his arms.

Sampo’s hands are soothing as he leisurely washes you from head to toe. You moan softly, feeling completely at bliss when his hands begin to massage shampoo (get it?) into your hair.

You feel so at ease that you may wind up falling asleep on him.

Sampo hums a quiet tune as he washes your hair for you. His voice was all you needed to finally enter a tranquil state of sleep.

Sampo smiles to himself, having accomplished his goal. He makes sure to clean you off properly before he leans back, allowing you to rest against him for a bit longer.

He’ll make sure to get himself cleaned up and get you out of the tub before your skin starts to prune, but until then, he’ll let you sleep against him.

You deserve it after all, for all that you do <3

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

┆Welt ₊ ⊹

He feels it should be the other way around

At first he adamantly refuses to ask for anything, until one day you present to him a small Arahato model that’s pretty accurate in nature. How did you accomplish this? Well, all you needed was Welt’s surprisingly detailed drawing. Money made the rest come to fruition.

You still remember the way Welt’s eyes got a little teary when you presented it to him, and how his eyes softened in what seemed like fond remembrance

Ever since you presented that model to him, Welt made a personal vow that he’ll protect you at any cost, against any force

You shift positions as you sit beside Welt on the plush seating of the sofa. Welt really wanted you to watch an old animated series he supposedly helped to create, and so that’s how you two have been spending this peaceful night together.

You’re both taking respite in a temporary abode on another planet, a well needed break after an intense trailblazing expedition.

The rain pounds against the roof of the building. Through the curtains on the windows you can see a flash of lightning.

At first you’re content. You’ve always loved thunderstorms; they provide you with a sense of comfort as long as the thunder isn’t too lou-

BOOM!!

You visibly jump besides Welt before you instantly curl into him and bury your face against his chest.

Welt remains silent but his arms instinctively wrap around your now trembling form.

Welt knows you usually don’t mind thunder since it’s rained like this on the planet before and you didn’t react this way.

He wonders why your reaction to the thunderstorm was different this time.

When you jump a bit at another absurdly loud thunderclap, he puts the pieces together.

It must be the sheer volume of the thunder. It was so loud even he was caught by surprise. It almost felt as if the building you two were in trembled in fear at nature’s frightening display of fury.

Welt hums to himself as he glances down at you. Your cheek is smushed against his chest and your eyes are squeezed shut. He can’t help but chuckle, finding this sight of you absolutely adorable.

He slowly lifts his free hand to rub your back in an attempt to calm you down.

Slowly, his hand moves along your back. Up and down. Up and down.

Welt feels his own body relax when you stop shaking. Your shallow breaths slowly become even once more. The rain continues to pound against the building, but lightning hasn’t struck for a long time now. Thankfully the thunder has long since ceased its boisterous declaration of fury.

Welt’s free hand moves to your hair, and he plays with it.

“There there. You’re safe with me. I won’t let any harm come to you. I promise.” His words are quiet, but they feel like a warm caress on your soul; a gentle embrace full of love and compassion.

You believe his words, and his promise fills you with a sense of peace.

Welt glances down at you once more, only to see a small smile on your lips as you begin to doze off. You slightly nuzzle your head on his chest as you get comfortable, and he swears he’s never seen anything cuter.

He promises himself that he’ll uphold that vow he made to you.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

♦ Dan Heng ⚛

He feels a bit awkward asking you for things so he tends to remain silent whenever you ask him if he needs or wants anything

Lucky for Dan Heng you’re an attentive listener!! <3

You went out of your way to buy him all the books he’s mentioned in passing that he likes and/or wants to read when he got sick during a trailblazing expedition

The look of pure surprise on his face made you smile

Going forward, whenever he happens upon a book he wants he’ll subtlety elude to it, blushing furiously all the while

He’s honestly the standard, so you’re more than happy to spoil him. He’ll find said book in his hands mere hours later

“Are you alright?” Dan Heng’s obvious concern makes you feel a bit guilty. “Yes sweetheart, I’m-“ you wince in pain as you fail to finish your statement.

You’ve managed to strain your back muscles, and it’s been difficult to walk around let alone do anything.

Dan Heng noticed your unsteady gait as you tried to hide your pain. Once he confirmed his suspicions he made you take it easy with him.

He knows if he lets you out of his sight you’ll try to be productive instead of resting like you should.

“Here, rest your head on my shoulder.” Dan Heng ignores your protests, and soon you're comfortably nestled at his side. He opens the book in his hand once more before he begins to read to you out loud.

His voice is so soothing. The ambience, coupled with the quiet sounds of water underneath his futon assist in lulling you into a state of tranquility.

You close your eyes as you listen to Dan Heng’s voice. It’s more of an informational book that he’s reading, but you couldn’t care less. You just like listening to his voice.

The pain doesn’t feel as bothersome since you took some pain medication but there’s still a dull ache there.

You feel Dan Heng shift a bit beside you, and almost as if he read your thoughts his fingers gently massage the sore area of your back.

You exhale; his fingers work wonders on your sore muscles.

You notice Dan Heng’s nearing the end of the page. You sigh since you know he’ll have to pull his hand away to flip the page.

To your surprise, Dang Heng doesn’t pull his hand away.

He continues to read to you.

You slowly open your eyes to see him holding the book in a way where he can flip the pages with his fingers using one hand.

“Dan Heng… you really don’t have to stay here with me you know.” You whisper solemnly. You’re surprised when all you get as a reply is his soft chuckle. “Don’t be ridiculous. I want to be here with you. You deserve to take a break, so relax. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is soft and oh so tender.

Your eyes meet his blue orbs, and the warmth in his gaze makes you shudder.

He leans in to press his soft lips against your own. When he pulls away, he presses another kiss to your nose before he resumes his previous position to read.

You wind up falling asleep like that, feeling much more at ease at Dan Heng’s side.

It takes him awhile to notice you fell asleep, but once he does he’s quick to close his book and lay you down beside him to sleep.

His eyes study the subtle rise and fall of your chest. They move up to admire the peaceful look on your face.

He moves closer to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into him.

“You work too hard, and you spoil me more than I’d like. Please feel better soon, so.. so I can see that ethereal smile on your lips once more.”

He kisses your cheek. When his lips pull away, they subtly hover over yours.

He considers it for a moment.

He gives in to his hidden desire; His lips brush against yours, soft, lingering..

He smiles when you move a little in your sleep.

He kisses you on the lips again, and it feels like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

He groans at the feeling of your lips against his, and his heart flutters in his chest. He pulls away, since you are still sleeping, and his eyes linger on you.

“I love you.” He sounds so vulnerable, but it feels so right.

He falls asleep with you in his arms.

He makes sure to tell you those three words once more when you’re awake in the morning.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

┆Blade ‧₊˚✩彡

He’s the hardest person to do this for. He seriously doesn’t want anything. He’s content by just spending time with you

So, you spend your money on fun activities the both of you can enjoy together. Whether that be a stay at home DIY project or an outing to a fun amusement park, you're happy just to have Blade by your side

He appreciates your understanding, and he may not vocalize it all the time but he truly holds you close to the shattered remnants of his heart

You remind him that he is more than just a weapon

“Maybe the piece goes here?” You point to the edge of the incomplete puzzle piece. Blade takes a moment to study the area before he shakes his head in disagreement.

“I don’t think so. Look at the curve of this piece.” You lean closer to examine said curve, and Blade remains still.

“Hmm, you’re right..” You sigh as you rack your brain on how to fit the remaining puzzle pieces.

On your way home after a busy day you passed a store full of toys and fun trinkets, so you thought it’d be fun to walk in and see what they have.

You happened upon a rare puzzle that apparently only had eight pieces. It sounded like it’d be too easy to solve so you went to return it to the shelf. Before you could place the puzzle back on the shelf the bold words on the back of the box caught your attention.

Evidently, the puzzle in your hand declared itself to be a shape shifting puzzle. The directions explained that once you place a piece incorrectly every piece will shift into a new shape and you have to start all over. The fine print read that each transformation had a guarantee that the new shapes would fit together.

You were sold.

You walked out of the store with the box in hand hoping that Blade would agree to solve this puzzle with you.

Thankfully your wish came to fruition, and you’ve been enjoying the quality time spent with Blade. Blade, on the other hand, is getting adorably frustrated with this puzzle.

“I swear if I put this piece in and it transforms again..” Blade grumbles the words under his breath, and his obvious frustration makes you chuckle to yourself quietly.

He hears you, but the sound only makes him smile. He tentatively places the curved piece down in the spot you suggested. To your delight the puzzle does not transform.

After you two have been doing this for the past two hours, you both feel elated at the prospect of finally completing this puzzle.

With the last piece remaining on the table, you gleefully fit it into the appropriate spot. The puzzle shines brightly on the table, signaling your successful completion of the complex activity.

A quiet noise of surprise leaves you when the previous image on the puzzle shifts. You watch with Blade as the image slowly transforms.

When the transformation is complete, a dopey smile brightens your features at the image displayed on the puzzle.

The puzzle reflects a scene of the two of you. Blade’s expression is surprisingly soft as he gazes at you. You’re sitting close together, legs pressed against one another as you lean over him to examine the puzzle piece in his hand.

Your eyes slowly leave the scene depicted by the puzzle to look at Blade. A coy smile lifts your lips when you see the expression on his face.

His features are uncharacteristically soft, and his smile warm. He studies the scene on the puzzle with a look of endearment as his fingers reach out to gently trail along the edge of the puzzle pieces.

“How… beautiful.” His hushed voice elicits a coo out of you.

Your smile is so wide your cheeks hurt.

His eyes finally leave the puzzle to look at you, and a knowing grin lifts his lips. His fingers move away from the edge of the puzzle to cup your chin instead.

He wastes no time leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. You can feel the soft upward curve of his lips as he kisses you.

He pulls away from you with a soft sigh of content. As his arms wrap around you, warmth blossoms in your chest.

You two spend the rest of the evening basking in each other’s embrace.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

⟡ Neuvillette ᐟᐟ☆

You spoil him rotten

Anything he wants is his. Literally. Even if you can’t get it right away, you will get it as soon as possible, just to see that bashful smile on his lips.

Lucky for your wallet, what Nevuillette’s heart yearns for most is you.

He really doesn’t ask for or want much in the material sense. He just wants to spend whatever time he has by your side, cherishing you.

You’ll buy him very ‘human’ things and teach him about them. Phones, coffee machines, you name it. You may or may not be addicted to the curious yet confused expression he makes whenever you present to him something new.

You two love each other so much it’s almost insufferable to watch.

“Neuvillette, look what I have to show you today.” Neuvillette turns to face you, excited at the prospect of something new. “What do you want to show me, my love?” Your smile is contagious as you present to him the item you were hiding behind your back.

An old fashioned flip phone.

Neuvillette glances at the object in your hand with mirth in his gaze. “Ah, I see. This is the older version of the modernized phone, yes? A.. flip phone was it?” Neuvillette takes the phone from your outstretched hand as he begins to fiddle with it.

You find yourself comfortably seated beside him, your head resting on his shoulder as he examines the flip phone. “Humans have created such innovative objects. It’s fascinating.” Your heart warms at the innocent fascination in his voice.

Your fingers slide down his arm in search of his hand. Once your fingers bump against his hand, he intertwines your fingers with his. He gently sets the phone aside before he moves to face you.

His arms wrap around your form. The blissful sigh he emits causes your smile to grow and your eyes to close.

“I love you.” Neuvillette whispers the words against the crown of your head. Your cheeks warm when he places a kiss there afterwards. “I love you too, my sweet little otter.” You can’t see it, but Neuvillette’s eyes soften. His face reflects the warmth of a setting sun on an eventful day; his expression accurately depicts how warm and loved he feels through spending his days with you by his side.

Oh, he loves you so much. “You make me so proud. You work so hard, and you’re so strong.” His words wrap around your heart like a warm blanket.

“Ah, Neuvillette..” You can’t help feeling pleased by his sweet words of praise.

“Nothing in this world will ever bring me more joy than spending my life with you. If I were not the Iudex of Fontaine I would dedicate every moment of my life to loving you. You are truly a gift to the world, and most assuredly a blessing beyond comparison. You’re someone to be cherished for millennia to come, and forevermore. I will see to it that that is brought to fruition.” Neuvillette’s soft words bring tears to your lashes.

He kisses each tear that falls with lingering lips and a radiant smile.

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

⚜ Luocha ♡⸝⸝

You’ll spend the most doting on him compared to everyone else (minus Sampo)

You buy him all his fancy shampoos, coupled with elegant accessories to put in his luscious golden hair. He takes excellent care of it after all, and that won’t stop anytime soon.

He will try on anything you buy for him and wear it proudly. Literally. You can buy him a fancy suit embedded with diamonds and he’ll strut around like the model he is, and in the same breath he’ll imperiously show off the ugly discolored sweater you bought him and insisted he’d love (you were joking).

You always get doted on by Luocha in return. Some days he’ll pick you up with a pretty bouquet of flowers, all meticulously selected by him, and other days he’ll show up holding your favorite treat or tickets to that event you’ve been talking his ear off about

Luocha insisted on taking you out for a relaxing day off, convincing you that you deserve it for all of your hard work. That’s how you find yourself relaxing in a private hot spring, the water a pleasant remedy to your aching muscles.

You find yourself admiring your boyfriend’s luscious hair as he stands in front of you, his bare back facing your direction.

You languidly move through the water to stand right behind him, and your arms slowly wrap around his frame. He jolts, taken by surprise, but he visibly relaxes as you press lingering kisses along his bare shoulder.

“You could’ve given me a warning, you know?” His tone comes across as a bit sassy, so you nip at the skin of his shoulder with your teeth.

That gets him riled up; he gasps before he swivels around and basically smothers you against him.

You squeal as he assaults you with loving kisses and wandering fingers as they tickle your sides. Your howls of delight are loud and absolutely adorable to Luocha.

“You better watch how you use that mouth of yours.” Luocha’s smug tone irks you, but you’re currently at his mercy and have no means of retort.

Luocha stops tickling you once you’re gasping for air. His tender gaze on your figure makes you feel giddy as you catch your breath.

“Luocha..” He shakes his head as he wordlessly moves to stand behind you. He gets to work, nimble hands massaging your shoulders, and your loud groan elicits a chuckle out of him.

“How many times do I have to reiterate to you that self care is essential to a healthy body and a healthy mind?” Luocha clicks his tongue in disapproval as he rubs out the tense knots in your back.

You ignore his scolding.

“With a sassy man like you in my life I probably need more self care than others… hey!!” You laugh as it’s Luocha’s turn to nibble at the skin of your shoulder with his teeth.

“Just be quiet and let me take care of you.” He insists, playfully reprimanding you for your comment. You allow him to do just that, your eyes closed the entire time as the warmth of the hot spring puts you in a sleepy, drunken daze.

You may have fallen asleep while you were still in the hot spring, and Luocha may have had to carry you out.

Well, at least you were able to relax and enjoy yourself, just as he intended.

656 notes · View notes

yorutsuki · 20 days

Note

You're cooked. Now write boothill.

「 ✦ Metal Tension ✦ 」

↳ Boothill, an optimistic and unrestrained cowboy—a galaxy ranger just so happens to be looking for a specific emanator though runs into you. Unfortunately, tension forms quickly.

[ gender neutral reader; they/them ]

Tags:

──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────

Light clangs and clunks echoed softly around the grounds of Penacony. His hair swaying lightly behind him along with his cape—while his metal body reflected the bright lights of the city.

"The Dreamscape..." Boothill breathed, taking in the sights of the bubbly, lit scenery.

The cowboy was drawn into Penacony in search for a specific emanator roaming about. He heard, from a memokeeper, that she would be found traveling besides an Astral Express crew. Hence, that would be his first step; to track them down.

It wasn't hard to track the group down, considering their popularity throughout the scape. With a few conversations with the residences and locals, he easy found one of the passengers—you.

Currently you were seated in a bar, a glass of paper moon near you while you skimmed through your phone.

Your head perked up as you heard a low rasped chuckle near you.

"You must be the famous {Y/n}?" He spoke, a light sly smile plastering his lips. "May I sit?" He asked, signaling to the seat next to you.

Your expression showed confusion but nonetheless you nodded both to the question and request, signaling a 'go ahead'. "Yep, that's me. Do you need something?" You sighed, popping the 'p' before taking a sip of your drink.

The ranger hummed, "a paper moon? That's a hell of a drink, isn't it?" He raised his brow, ignoring your question.

You nodded, setting down your glass. "A chaotic and busy week." You huffed, recalling the events you endured recently—still feeling some bruising from some of them.

The galaxy cowboy ranger nodded in acknowledgement, setting his arms, crossed on the table. You glanced over to him skeptically. "Well then, I told you my name, I think it's only right you introduce yourself." You spoke, taking another sip.

"Eager huh? Names' Boothill." He smirked, placing his head to one of his palms.

"Well then, Boothill, what are you exactly here for?" You asked once again, sighing—not wanting to beat around the bush. You knew the man wasn't here just for a idle chat.

You heard the cyborg chuckle at your straightforwardness, "Observant. Well, i'm here looking for a emanator who goes by the name, Acheron."

You furrowed your brows, "why?" You questioned.

if you weren't beating around the bush, then it should be an even playing field, no?

Boothill's sly smirk turned into a light smile of menace. "To eliminate her."

You hummed in thought before gulping down the rest of your drink, grabbing your phone and leaving the bar.

Boothill frowned for a moment though his signature smirk appeared once more before he himself stood up, trailing after you.

"I don't think you know what your dealing with." He spoke, shaking his head. You however, were pretty sure you knew the risks of Acheron tagging along. "I-the crew has seen her potential power already, as well as her persona in general. Maybe not at the fullest but it's safe to say we know enough to trust her currently." You answered, recalling the information that the crew and her had exchanged during the time together.

"-though that can't be said for you." You halted with you movement, glancing towards him with furrowed brows. Boothill raised a brow, his eyes glancing over to you as well, his expression plastering the same amused expression.

"Look here darlin', i'm here for one objective. I'm not here to make enemies with the express—that would be meaningless and a waste of both sides' time." He hummed. "So if you could just give me even a slight clue of where the emanator is, i'll be on my way." He shrugged, resting a hand on his hip.

You shook your head lightly, "I can't, I don't know where she is. She pops in and out—here and there at times." You informed, crossing your arms, replicating his sass. "Besides, I believe your the one who hasn't a clue what they're dealing with." You glared at him.

Boothill returned the glare, though before any words could be uttered, a sudden wave of fire split the tension as both of you were quick to dodge it.

Looking to your side, you were faced with a Dreamjolt gorilla and overcooked, along with some other low enemies.

You grit your teeth while the ranger's smirk only grew wider at the new challenge. Though before he could even process, you were already taking action—taking swift and agile turns, aiming and destroying the mechanics' weak spots to which they crumbled into ash upon.

Within under a minute, the enemies were nothing but ash in the wind.

You had returned back to your spot like nothing happened, only a few breathes here and there. You looked towards the man, a brow raised as you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move. "You need something?"

The galaxy ranger looked away, almost in thought. "Those moves...they're familiar.." He stated, looking to the ground before glancing back at you. "Where did you learn them?"

Your eyes turned soft only for a second as you grinned slightly. "The emanator. She was kind enough to lend me some tips." You smirked but quickly replaced it was a neutral face.

Boothill's gaze went surprised only for a split second before turning into a sly cocky look. "Well, would ya look at that. Y'know Acheron doesn't just teach anyone her knowledge." He smirked before leaning near your ear. "You must be a pretty special thing then." He laughed before retreating back.

Your words got caught in your throat. You knew it was a teasing comment but thats what stunt you.

You mumbled something inaudible before your phone pinged. "Oh? Is that the rest of your crew?" He chuckled, peeking over towards your screen. You glanced towards him and back, nodding.

A few moments passed before your phone vanished into your inventory, specks of dust in place of it's disappearance. With a huff, you look towards the metal man, "well, i'm guessing we'll be seeing each other around, unfortunately." You shook your head much to your dismay.

Boothill smirked, "Of coarse. I look forward to our next run in—and how knows?" He shrugged, leaning forward, "maybe you can teach me some of those tricks, eh?"

You give a grimaced smile, "keep dreaming. This is the dreamscape after all." With that you waved a flimsy 'cya' before leaving.

Though if you stayed just a bit longer, you would've seen the cowboy ranger's cheeks tinted with a pink hue as he let out a airy laugh. "till we cross paths again."

A/N: I barely know about Boothill than whats already present. Hence, I apologize if its short and out of character TxT.

(I have no clue for a title)

[Random] While writing this, I read the most well executed, tear making, well written, heart warming, angsty af fanfic of a Michealangelo x reader (TMNT), I highly reccomend checking it out if you like TMNT-specifically mikey and angst :)

"Hearts Over Head (Michealangelo x Reader Fanfiction)" - Sophfandoms53

#x reader #scenerios #oneshot #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #boothill #boothill x reader #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x y/n #headcannons

162 notes · View notes

cordeliawhohung · 6 months

Note

okay HI IM SUCH A BIG FOR THE SOFT SPOT SERIES I LOVE READING IT SO MUCH.

Just wanted to pop in and request a little comfort with ghost? I'm mid-way my midterms right now and I haven't slept properly for nearly 4 days. I need that man to either fuck me to sleep or cuddle me.

Again, love your work. Love everything you write, really. You're an amazing author and thank you for sharing your skill to the world LIKE YOU SHOULD 💅💅💅

hi hun! thank you so much!!! i'm glad that you're enjoying it a;lsdkfj like i've said before soft spot is my babyyyyy and youch! sorry to hear about finals! that's such a pain, and i apologize that this has taken a moment to get back to you. but now that you mention it, i don't think i've ever written anything just... fluffy for Simon. so i think i'll write you a short and sweet fluff bit that will hopefully cheer you up! thank you so much you are such a sweetheart 😭

warnings: none! super fluffy! sleeping issues and Simon thinks cuddles is the best medicine (:

masterlist (:

Sleep wasn't coming easy for you. A majority of your nights had been spent getting minimal sleep before being startled awake by your own thoughts. It was difficult to pin down the exact reason. You weren't stressed, or at least you liked to pretend that you weren't, and there were no strange dreams or nightmares that ailed you. Just your own thoughts, the constant feeling that you had to be doing something, anything, otherwise you were wasting time.

You stood in the kitchen with a cup in hand as you ran the sink. Everything always seemed louder at night. Your footsteps, the water pouring from the spout, even your own heart beating in your chest. The very atoms buzzing in every object around you even seemed too loud.

"It's late."

Simon's voice was deep and groggy as he spoke from the doorway, and it was piercing enough so that it cut through the noise of everything else in existence. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and you could see a faint indented line across his cheek. He must have been sleeping pretty well, which was the whole reason you left the bed in the first place; to not wake him with your restless tossing and turning.

"Baby, go back to bed," you said softly. You eyed the pale green neon of the microwave clock that read 2:04 in the morning before taking a quick sip of water.

"You've got work in the mornin'," he said simply before stepping further into the kitchen.

You sighed before setting the cup next to the sink, and you leaned against the counter. There was little doubt in your mind that Simon was just as tired of your restlessness as you were. Constantly slipping out of bed, wandering around the flat in an attempt to get the buzzing in your mind to stop long enough to hopefully fall back asleep again.

Simon's hands brushed against your hips where he pulled you closer, and you nearly melted into him. Hands resting against his chest, you let him pull you close. You felt the warm breath from his nose tickle your hairline as he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.

"Come back to bed," he mumbled into the crown of your head. It wasn't a request, but wasn't a demand, either. It was something that landed somewhere in the middle.

Either way, you listened. Even though you could feel the static of the world rattle your bones and shake your mind, you trotted off after Simon as he led you back into the bedroom. Your side of the bed was cold when you crawled back in, and you wondered just how long you had been standing in the kitchen for.

Simon liked his space when he slept. Something about you being too wiggly, but you didn't mind. You were used to laying your head on your pillow and holding the blankets tight under your chin to lull yourself to sleep. So when you felt Simon's hand on your shoulder, rolling you over to face him, you were a little surprised.

"Come here," he prompted in his sleepy daze.

And so you did. His arm snaked around your torso as he pulled you close, and instead of a pillow underneath your head it was his chest. His other arm rested on his torso so that he could reach and rub gentle circles along your back. One last time, he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your head before laying down.

He didn't say anything else, and neither did you. The only thing you did was lay there, cheek pressed against his chest while your arm held him around his waist. Each beat of his heart reverberated brilliantly within his chest, and every breath he took sounded long and deliberate.

Instead of focusing on the noise of the universe around you, you found your mind enamored by Simon instead. How the subtle rise and fall of his chest rocked your body with his. How you could hear the blood gushing through his body, feel the fibers of his body creak with the weight. His warmth bled into you, coaxing your muscles to soften. You focused on trying to match your breathing with his, and you wondered if you did it long enough, if your hearts would start to sync; if your blood would pulse at the same speed; if your bodies would begin to meld.

Eventually his hand stilled, and his breathing slowed even more, and you continued to match his pace. Soon, you were nothing more than just two souls occupying the same space; atoms weaved together; lovers intertwined. Slumber settled over you before your mind even had the chance to process it, but even in your sleep your body knew you were right where you belonged.

sorry if this is too short! i'm trying to practice not writing 6k words for every single thing i put on this site a;lksdjf either way i hope it was enjoyable, and i hope you're able to get some good rest soon, anon <3

#core responds #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader

343 notes · View notes

hgfictionwriter · 1 month

Text

Protector

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie stands up for you and gets you out of an uncomfortable situation. You show her your appreciation in more ways than one.

Warning: Mention of unwanted advances. Nothing graphic or violent at all on that front, but I want to be cautious. Beyond that, very consensual, very explicit smut.

A/N: This is in response to this request.

“I told you I’m not interested.”

You cringed as the guy standing across from you continued to leer at you. You exhaled irritably as you peered around the room in search of Jessie.

You were at a media event with her for the league and though most people were lovely, this guy was ruining your night. The event was in a mixed space, so there were all types here.

Jessie was doing a segment with the team and you were mingling in the meantime, but this guy seemed to keep showing up despite the fact that you made it clear you weren’t here to pick up. And let’s be real, he wouldn’t be your type at all anyway.

“Come on. I’ll buy you a shot. Loosen up a little - it’s a party,” he insisted as he leaned down towards you.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Relief rushed through you as you heard the familiar sound of Jessie’s voice and felt her hand come up behind you to rest on your hip.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Could be better though if you can convince your friend to have a drink with me.” He talked over you with a smirk before locking eyes with you and adding, “I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

You tensed up, ready to snap at him, but was quickly distracted by how Jessie’s hand tightened on you and she pulled you in closer. She took a step forward to stand partially in front of you, serving as a buffer between you and the guy. He towered over her, but she didn’t seem fazed.

“She said she’s not interested. Now, have a good night,” she said calmly, but with a distinct terseness in her voice.

You turned with Jessie, grateful to leave, but his patronizing laugh echoed over the din of the room.

“Oh, now I get why you don’t want to have any fun. But seriously? You think she’s going to show you a better time than me? She looks like she should still be lugging books around campus. When you want to take the training wheels off, come find me.”

You were about to round on him when Jessie beat you to it.

“Maybe if you learned how to listen to what a woman is saying to you instead of talking over her and telling her what she wants, you’d actually find someone,” she said evenly with an underlying sharpness. “Clearly, anything anyone tried to teach you about manners or respect was lost on you.”

He scoffed and she merely smiled at him. “If you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and I are going to enjoy the rest of our evening in peace. Have a good night.”

“Right,” he said sarcastically before giving you a nod. “Like I said, come find me when you’re ready.”

Jessie tensed up, taking a step forward and holding up a hand. “Don’t speak to her that way. She’s not an object or some prize for you.” She saw him readying a retort and rolled her eyes rather than reacting further. “Come on, this is pointless,” she said softly to you as she began to usher you both away. You halted her briefly, a glint in your eye before you turned to him rather smugly.

“For the record,” you cuddled into Jessie, “your offer was pretty weak. I already get ‘fuck you through the mattress, back to back orgasms that leave you hardly able to walk’ kind of sex, so,” you looked him up and down, “I already know I’ll be having a good time tonight.” You gave a facetious wave. “Bye, now.”

This time you let Jessie usher you away and you went deep into the crowd, leaving him behind.

“Geez, you didn’t have to say all that,” Jessie mumbled, her cheeks tinged pink as her gaze flit about. “I mean, he was a total fucking jerk, but wow.”

“But babe,” you drew out the nickname, “it was too hard to resist.” You leaned in with a flirty smirk. “And it’s not like it’s untrue.”

Normally, Jessie would banter and reciprocate, but from the expression on her face she was not ready to joke.

“Are you okay?” She asked, concern clear on her face as she looked you over. You kissed her.

“I’m totally fine. Thanks to you.” You gave her a wink.

She rolled her eyes a bit but gave you a faint smile. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m glad I could be of service.” A moment passed and she sighed, her features falling into a glower as she looked away. “God. What a jerk. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You frowned and shook your head in mild disbelief. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

Jessie exhaled. “I should’ve shut him down faster.” Her gaze flicked over to you before dropping to the floor. “I probably should’ve just told him to fuck off.”

You frowned in deeper confusion. “What do you mean? You handled it perfectly,” you assured her as you leaned in to try and capture her gaze. She didn’t respond audibly and just offered you a nod. You could clearly see that she was in her head and making assumptions about things she shouldn’t worry about. You stepped fully in front of her and placed your hands gently on her cheeks, encouraging her to look up at you. When she did, you spoke.

“Hey. You did everything I needed and wanted you to do. If you think I want to be with someone who’s going to get all aggro and start a fight, you’re way off base.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “If I wanted that I might as well be with that douchbag.” You nodded over her shoulder. “But I’m not. I fell in love with you because you’re kind and you’re loving and so many other wonderful things. And you’re strong when you need to be and you did just that. You saw I was uncomfortable and you not only got me out of there - no brawls or escalation - but you did that all while standing up for me, too. That’s exactly what I needed from you. I love you, Jessie. I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

Her frown faded and her expression softened, her shoulders visibly relaxing as well.

“You’re my sexy, sweet, smart girlfriend who also protects me and keeps me safe in all the ways I need,” you told her lovingly.

“Thank you,” she relented.

“Thank you,” you returned as you leaned in to give her a soft peck on the lips. She smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back she had a sweet, crooked smile on her face.

“I know you didn’t want him to get you a drink, but can I get you one?” She offered, tilting her chin up just so in the most adorable way. You kissed her again.

“Anytime.”

That evening when you two arrived back at your apartment, Jessie took your jacket and hung it up for you before coming back to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I’m really sorry you had to deal with that tonight,” she said as she searched your eyes for any indication that you were belatedly rattled or upset.

“Baby,” you kissed her, “you took great care of me. It’s okay. And I always know you’re there for me. You always make me feel safe.”

She inhaled, seeming to contemplate your answer, but nodded her acceptance.

“Okay. I love you,” she said with a kiss before resting her forehead against yours. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“I’m not worried, my love,” you told her as you cupped her face and kissed her again. You leaned in again to kiss her a bit deeper. “I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” You felt her smile into the kiss as she returned it.

“Mm,” she disagreed. “I’m the lucky one.”

You pulled back, your hands now resting on her chest as you gave her a warm, but chiding look. Instead of refuting, you leaned your head down and began to softly kiss her neck. You bit back a smile as you felt her shiver.

“Did I tell you how good you look in this shirt?” Your words punctuated by kisses, idly noting how her fingers tightened on you and relaxed in time.

Jessie let out a shaky laugh. “You may have.” She subconsciously tilted her head a touch to open herself up and give you more room. You nipped at the sensitive skin there before soothing it with a lingering kiss.

“Well, what can I say? You just look that good.” You pulled back to examine her, pleased with the now hazy look in her eyes. “I can hardly believe you’re all mine.”

You closed the space between you, capturing her lips once more, harder this time as you began pushing her back towards the couch in your living room. You pushed her down onto the cushions and straddled her legs, never once breaking your kiss.

This position, coupled with her strong hands on your back and the way she leaned up to kiss you caused heat to start pooling between your legs. She hadn’t even done anything and a small moan escaped your mouth into hers. Sometimes just the mere thought of her did that to you.

You reached down and started to unbutton her shirt. She allowed you to do so as she reached up the back of your shirt to unclasp your bra with a single hand with ease. You smirked as you leaned back, supported by her as you took off your shirt and bra.

“You’re such a stud sometimes,” you teased at the proud grin on her face and the brightness in her eyes. She didn’t respond and instead leaned in and began kissing your neck as her hands roamed your back and chest. You instinctively began slowly riding against her lap at her ministrations and your hands went through her hair.

“You are so gorgeous,” she said as she continued to adore you.

She reached down and started to undo your pants, but your reached down gently to stop her. You smiled at her, already knowing the concerned look she’d be giving you before you even opened your eyes.

You cupped her face again and leaned down to kiss her deeply. You then broke away and began to get off of her all the while kissing down her neck and body.

“This is about you tonight,” you told her tenderly.

“Babe…,” she trailed off, somewhere between a question and statement.

Jessie was a giver. She went down on you, fucked you, whatever you needed. She loved pleasing you and she swore repeatedly that her getting to take you to those heights was satisfaction enough for her and she didn’t need more. But, you also knew that she still enjoyed being on the receiving end as well. Admittedly, it happened less, and Jessie never seemed dissatisfied or complained, but truly how could you not want to please her too?

“It’s your turn to lay back and relax,” you assured her as you trailed your tongue down the subtle definition of her abs. She twitched under your touch. “Let me take care of you the way you always take such good care of me.”

You dragged your nails lightly down her sides as you began to kneel in front of her.

“You’re the only one in this world for me,” you told her with quiet resolution as you undid her pants. She watched you, gaze steady, as she lifted her hips and you began to push the clothing down her muscular legs. You bit your lip as you removed the last of her clothes and took in the sight of her, settling yourself between her legs.

A pent up sigh escaped her as you began kissing up her firm thighs. You noted how her hands began to clutch and release the cushions as you took your time making your way up her legs.

“You were so sexy tonight. The way you stood up for me. I wanted to get down on my knees for you right then and there.”

Jessie let out a soft groan and you saw her bite down on her lip as she continued to watch you. Her breathing grew deeper in anticipation, her shoulders now visibly rising and falling.

You reached under her legs, giving them a single appreciative squeeze before you interlaced your fingers with hers. She immediately began to caress the back of your hand with her thumb. You looked up at her one more time.

“Why would I ever want anyone else?”

You moved in, your eyes fluttering shut as her taste was immediately on your tongue. You moaned at how wet she already was and began slowly lapping up the juices that dripped from her. You didn’t want to rush.

Right here, on your knees in front of this gorgeous, incredible woman, some primal part of your brain always took over. You wanted to make her feel so good. She deserved it. And it was a privilege for you to be here, face between her legs and able to do just that - let her know how much you wanted her, desired her, and to make her come undone. She really was the only one for you.

“Fuck,” Jessie cursed in a shuddering breath and you glanced up to see her toss her head back against the couch. Her hips lifted up as you licked up and down her folds, the unintentional strength behind her movement nearly disengaging you, but you leaned in, making sure to stay with her and now latching onto her clit.

Another soft groan worked its way up her throat and she gripped your hands so tightly it nearly hurt, but it did nothing but spur you on.

You took your time. Your head spun with arousal as Jessie just grew wetter and wetter; more for you to enjoy. You continued to eat her out, exploring her, appreciating her, and loving every moment of it. You moaned in appreciation as she writhed on the couch under your touch and mewled softly as you pleasured her. Seeing her like this was going to push you to the edge in no time.

“I love you so much,” Jessie panted, nails digging into the back of your hands.

You moaned in returned and unlaced your fingers from one of her hands. You turned your attention fully to her throbbing clit, closing your lips around it, flicking and sucking it to draw out more from her. You then traced your fingers around her sopping entrance and when ready you slid a finger inside, curling it upwards. A cry escaped her and her hips lifted off the couch to chase your touch. You smiled into her and added another finger before encouraging her to settle back down on the couch.

Soon, her cries and moans were filling the room as you pumped into her. You groaned as her hand came to rest on the back of your head. Her touch was light and tentative and you broke away momentarily to speak.

“Go ahead, baby,” you urged. “I’m all yours.”

She grunted, eyes still closed as her head rolled against the top of the couch. With your approval, her fingers dug into your hair and she began to rock her hips up into your mouth and fingers.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you had to say before quickly returning to the task at hand. You knew you were dripping wet. With Jessie’s arousal all over you, your fingers, the way she was grinding herself into your face, the sounds she was making - how could you not be?

Jessie’s grunts filled your ears and you felt her thighs flexing around you, her fingers gripping your hair tighter. You knew what was next.

“Y/N. I’m gonna cum,” she panted. “Please don’t stop.”

There was no way you’d stop now. You kept your ministrations steady despite how her hips began to buck against you and grow erratic. It wasn’t long before a loud moan fell from her lips and her movements stilled, her entire body tensing up for a few prolonged seconds before all of the tension just melted from her body and she fell back into the couch with now slow and lingering movements as you helped her come down off her orgasm.

She released your hair and you looked up to see her place her hands upon her face. You could see the deep red of her cheeks and the sheen of sweat on her brow through her fingers.

“Oh my god,” she said, her voice muffled. You quickly wiped your face, but waited until she came to and looked down at you before slowly licking her arousal off of your fingers. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she bit her lip hard.

“Fucking hell,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

You kissed her thighs before you lifted yourself up and cuddled in next to her on the couch. She was so spent she could hardly put her arm around you. You kissed her cheek.

“You’re the best,” you told her. You chuckled lightly at the slow side eye she gave you.

“Yeah. I’m the best,” she said dryly as she let her head fall back against the couch again. You kissed her once more and she let out a tired sigh before shifting to rest her head against yours. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You snickered a bit and leaned forward to catch her eye and kiss her on the lips. She often worried that she was being too rough with you. “Of course not. It was fucking hot.” You ran a hand along her leg. “You know I think it’s so sexy when you get like that and when you lose control.”

She blushed. “Okay.” She cleared her throat, a cocky smirk on her face now. “Well, if this is the reward I get for chasing away losers at a bar…count me in.”

You kissed her slowly, your hand still tracing along her leg. “Well, the night’s not over yet.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #canwnt #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso community

345 notes · View notes

toomuchracket · 3 months

Text

dancing like she way out (george daniel x reader smut)

shag the dj shag the dj shag the dj, or whatever the smiths said. basically - a night out takes a turn for the better when you hook up with the hot dj. won't lie, there's use of the d word in here. and choking, because we've all seen that man's hands. enjoy <3

all your friends are wasted, and you hate this club.

no, really - three of them are currently spewing their guts up in the toilets after going too hard on the tequila rose, while the rest flail wildly on the dancefloor in between queuing at the bar to buy yet another round of overpriced jagerbombs. meanwhile, you're doing your best to dodge the extremely persistent man you first swerved about an hour ago, some palm angels-clad twat with shit hair and an inability to take no for an answer, and also doing your best not to spill your vodka cranberry all over yourself in the process.

in short, you're having a shitter of a night.

at least the dj's fit, though. really fit. and, to be fair, he’s spinning some decent stuff. the one saving grace of the night, you'd say.

you watch him from the edge of the dancefloor, empty cup in hand. he's quite focused, more so than some of the wankers you've been dragged to see in this club in the past, only looking up to signal to the bar staff that he needs a refill and to check the vibe of the room. he has pretty eyes, you notice, sharp and dark and clear; eyes that could definitely get you to commit a multitude of sins, quite frankly.

and now? they're looking right at you.

looking isn't a strong enough word, actually. they drag slowly down your body - locking with your own, then travel to your pouty, brown-lined lips, and shamelessly over the curves of your body onto your legs - leaving a trail of thrill-induced goosebumps across your skin in their wake. suddenly, they flick back up to your face, and one closes in a wink. you smirk, and the dj does too.

interesting.

one of your more sober friends nudges you, handing you another vodka. you accept it without breaking eye contact with the dj, wrapping your lips around the straw and smiling with it between your teeth. he raises his eyebrows, still smirking, and you wink; your friend notices, and leans round so you can see her. “are you eye-fucking the dj?”

“maybe,” you reluctantly tear your eyes from him to look at her. “in my defence, he started eye-fucking me first.”

she laughs, tugging you onto the floor and motioning for you to dance. “i think we should keep him looking at you, then.”

“alright,” you down your drink and set down the cup. “let's dance.”

and so, you do, pulling out all the stops. your hair flows behind you as you swing your hips, body twisting and turning and stretching as you lose yourself under the lights and amidst the beat, and you laugh excitedly with your friend as she twirls you. the dancefloor is so empty that you can spin to your heart's content, but that doesn't bother you at all - it means there's less for the object of your efforts to be distracted by, more chance that his attention is on you.

it seems to be completely on you, actually; every time you catch a glimpse of him, his eyes are on you again, and your friend attests to that in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. “he hasn't stopped looking at you, for even a second. that man wants you, babe.”

you angle your body towards the deck so you can see him. the club lighting is simultaneously sheering out his black shirt and throwing both his stubbled face and tattooed arms into focus - fuck, his arms.

and he's still looking at you.

“i think you might be right,” you turn back to your friend so she can hear you, deliberately leaning forward and shaking your ass slightly in his direction. “and i want him too.”

she shoves you towards the deck. “go and get him, then.”

with a giggle, you set off, swinging your hips as you all but skip towards the extremely sexy man behind the music. unfortunately for you, some arsey man in too-tight chinos gets to the deck first; folding your arms, you stand behind him, miffed, and wait your turn to speak.

luckily, you only have to do that for a couple of seconds. the guy isn't particularly drunk, but he's annoying. “hey, bro,” he says to the dj, whose handsome face is set in an expression full of what can only be described as ennui. you assume he sees this kind of thing all the time. “can you play some, like, chainsmokers? that would be so sound of you.”

chainsmokers? christ.

clearly, your distaste is showing, because the dj's face slips into a tiny smirk as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye; it disappears, though, before he replies. “‘fraid not, mate…”

his fucking voice. dear god. who is this man, and where has he been all your life?

“...i don't take requests.”

you believe it. everything about the dj screams control, and with every passing second your want to submit to that control is growing. it's not want you have for him any more, but sheer fucking need.

the other guy shrugs and wanders off, and the attention is all on you again. leaning over the mixing board towards you, the dj smirks again. “you, however, can ask me for anything you like.”

fuck. keep it together, bitch.

“anything?” you smile, saccharine, carefully leaning on the side of the deck in such a way that it pushes your boobs up. “even cascada?”

he rolls his eyes. “and here i thought you had taste.”

“whatever made you think that?”

“you picked out that dress to wear tonight, yeah?”

christ. “yeah. you like it?”

he nods, taking a sip of his drink. “it's gorgeous on you. but i think most things would be.”

you blush, revelling in the compliment before shooting your shot. “present company included?”

“jesus,” he shakes his head, and for the briefest of moments you worry that you've lost him. but then he looks up, hunger in those fucking eyes of his, and smirks again. “is that what you want, angel? to go somewhere together and find out?”

the ease with which the pet name falls from his lips is staggering, so much so that you can merely nod. that's not good enough for him, though - “need you to talk to me, beautiful.”

“sorry, sorry,” you compose yourself (with great difficulty). “yes, that's what i want.”

“s'reciprocated,” he smiles, genuinely. “i’m george, by the way.”

you smile in response, and introduce yourself. george says your name, slowly, and you fear that your legs might give way. “pretty,” he replies. “i like how you feel on my tongue.”

the words practically shoot straight into the scrap of fabric you call panties, and your jaw drops. george giggles. “you're cute when you're flustered, angel.”

“shame. i don't tend to make a habit of that.”

“hmmm,” he clicks his tongue. “i'll need to work on that, then.”

you smile, radiant. “promise?”

“promise,” george smiles. he checks his watch, and you try not to drool at the way his arms flex. or his hands - god, look at his hands! “s'almost closing time. meet me back here in half an hour?”

“looking forward to it,” you blow him a kiss, preening at the way he blushes. “see you in a bit, gorgeous.”

he winks again. you turn and walk back to your friends, who have gathered along the edge of the dancefloor to watch your exchange with the dj. they huddle around you like a rugby scrum when you near them, a cacophony of slurred voices asking what and where and who and when and how; you gesture for them to follow you to the smoking area, where - to much excitement - you relay the details to them in the breaks between nicotine hits, and hug them all goodnight before you have to go back inside, them to the cloakroom and you to the dj.

your wingwoman friend is the last one you bid farewell to - she links arms with you to walk back into the sweaty club, doing the pre-prepared spiel you give each other when you pull. “have fun, but don't be stupid. if it's his place you end up at, then send me your location. i'll phone you in the morning, alright?”

“yeah,” you kiss her cheek. “thanks for all your help.”

“no problem. stay safe, have the best time,” she grins. “and i want details at the pub quiz on tuesday.”

“noted,” you hug her again as you reach the place to part ways. “love you. goodnight.”

“get it, bitch!” she shouts after you; you turn to salute her and giggle, and then she's gone. with a deep breath and a shake of your hair, you dart past the people starting to head towards the cloakroom, butterflies starting to emerge again as you get closer to george.

he smiles when he sees you, eyes raking over your body once again. “you know,” he says, as you reach the deck. “you really are beautiful.”

“i'm already leaving with you, george, you can drop the flattery,” you roll your eyes, then beam at him. “thank you, though.”

“just stating facts,” george turns some sort of dial, and the music fades to silence. as the club staff usher everyone from the room, he sighs happily. “been waiting to do that since you came up to me earlier.”

“really?”

“yeah,” he unplugs his laptop from the deck, sliding it into a backpack. “you're very distracting, you know, looking so good and dancing like that.”

“well, i try,” you hold out a hand. “ready to go?”

george nods, stepping down beside you - you gawk at the the height of him, towering over you. “fuck me, you're tall.”

he laughs, taking your hand in his. again, the size difference is insane, and you find yourself momentarily nervous to get into bed with him; that soon passes in favour of excitement, though. “don't worry, i'll even out the height thing by getting on my knees soon enough.”

the speed with which you tug him toward the exit at that is almost comical. george only giggles and lets you drag him to the door - he stops when you’re out in the cold air, though. “hold on, angel, i need a cig.”

you nod, standing on the step beside the door while he moves down a few to light his cigarette in peace. his hands, so big, are surprisingly nimble as he pulls a fag from the packet and flicks the lighter on; again, it does something to your core, and you lean against the brick wall to keep yourself steady.

after a few (erotic) drags of the cig, george holds it out to you. wordlessly, you accept, holding eye contact as you take a drag and exhale it in his direction. george's eyes flick to your lips, then back to your own - suddenly, he's kissing you, a hand in your hair and one on the small of your back, your arms looped around his neck. it's not a polite kiss, by any means; george kisses like he’s trying to devour you in the best possible way, stealing all the air from your lungs and inhibitions from your brain, tongue and teeth working against your mouth to get you to give in to him.

like you need any convincing.

a trail of spit connects you as he breaks the sloppy kiss, forehead resting against yours as you both breathe deeply. “fuck, angel,” george sighs, kissing you quickly again. “your place or mine?”

“we can be at my flat in five minutes if we walk quickly.”

“shit. lead the way.”

***

your front door hasn't even fully closed behind you before george is pressing you up against it, grabbing handfuls of your ass and lifting you so he can kiss your lips and neck while he grinds into you. every time his hips meet yours, you feel your eyes roll back into your head and the need for him inside you growing. his teeth meet the skin of your collarbone, and you swear you see stars. “george.”

his head shoots up immediately. “no marks?”

“no, leave as many as you want. it's just,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin. “i really want you to take me to bed. please?”

he groans at that, peeling you off the wall as he turns. “where…?”

“second door on the left.”

no sooner than the words have left your lips, george is kicking your bedroom door open and all but throwing you onto your bed. hands shaking, you do your best to undo your heels and throw them into a corner as george rids himself of backpack and shirt; you mewl at the sight of him, muscles hardened in the moonlight, and sit up on your knees to clumsily undo his belt.

he shakes his head, moving your hands from him. “you first, angel. arms up, come on, let's get that pathetic excuse for a dress off you.”

“i thought you liked this dress?” you frown, even as you oblige and let him peel the dress up your body.

“i do, but - oh, fuck,” george moans as your almost-bare body is revealed to him. “it was doing an awful job of stopping me thinking about you like this.”

his gaze on you is almost predatory, so much so that it makes you sink back onto your knees in submission, legs slightly open and chest forward. “do i live up to your daydreams, sir? no, wait,” you squint, assessing george to see if you can figure him out. “do i live up to your daydreams, daddy?”

you've hit the nail on the head; george’s eyes close as he swears and undoes his belt, kicking his trousers and shoes off before climbing onto the bed, onto you. he pulls you slowly onto his lap, and rocks you back and forth even more slowly. “does this answer your question, baby?” he murmurs, the gravel in his voice liquifying your insides and sending them straight into your underwear. the friction against his hardness is incredible, and all you can do is whine as you look into those obsidian eyes - again, that's not good enough for george, who delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “words, angel. tell daddy what you think.”

“i - ooh,” you whimper, as george changes angle to one that manages to catch your clit with every grind. “i think i live up to them, yes, daddy. think you wanna fuck me, and - shit - i want that too.”

“my smart girl,” he kisses you again, another head-melter that has you moaning into his mouth. “what else do you want, hmmm? want me to go down on you?”

as tempting as having that mouth between your legs sounds… that isn’t what you want right now. “wake me up like that tomorrow, please,” you savour the way george whines into your neck at the thought. “but right now, i just need you to fill me up, daddy.”

“well, i did say you could ask me for anything you liked,” he grins against you, kissing you quickly before softly laying you down. “fuck, look at you, angel, so fucking beautiful. where have they been keeping you from me all this time?”

your cheeks burn at the way he bites his lip, trailing his hands over your bare chest and all the way down to your panties. “i mean, seriously,” he hums. “i've never wanted to fuck someone more in my life.”

“so do it. please,” you open your legs, showing him the surely-visible wet patch on your silky underwear. “need you inside me, daddy.”

“alright, alright,” george huffs out a laugh, one of disbelief, as he trails a finger up your clothed slit. “jesus, you’re soaked already. can i take these off?”

“please.”

he smiles, dragging the material down your legs and his fingers through your wetness; evilly, he slides the same hand beneath his boxers to palm himself, groaning. when you protest, he laughs. “just making sure we're both ready, baby. speaking of… protection?”

you say nothing, and just reach across to grab your pill packet from the bedside table and wave it at him.

“noted,” he leans forward to kiss you, before moving back onto his knees to slide his boxers off. as the fabric drops, so does your jaw: you knew from the feeling of him under you that you weren't dealing with something compact, here, but george is fucking huge. like, slightly terror-inducing huge. that said, though, you begin to salivate at the sight of him - he notices this, and giggles. “like what you see?”

“yeah,” wide eyed, you look up at his face, your own breaking into an anticipated smile; tentatively, you reach out to touch his cock, both of you gasping in tandem when you wrap your hand (as best you can) around him, manicured thumb flicking over the pre-cum soaked tip. neither of you break eye contact as you pump him a few times, the sexual tension in the room too magnetic to do so, and when you speak it comes out in a whisper. “how do you want me?”

“how don’t i want you?” george smirks, tapping your wrist to make you let go of him. he shuffles forward, big hands meeting your chest and squeezing gently, and beams when you whine. “fucking love that sound. lie back for me, angel, wanna watch these tits while i make you feel good. that alright?”

“mhmm,” you do as asked, fanning your hair across the pillow and spreading your legs - george can't seem to decide where to look, eyes darting between your face and chest and glistening cunt, and it makes you feel incredible. “like this, daddy?”

he nods. “perfect,” his lips find yours again as he settles above you, resting his weight on one hand while the other slides between your thighs again. two long fingers tentatively dip into your cunt, and george groans while you gasp at the fullness. christ, if this is how you react to his fingers, then what on earth will it be like when he's actually fucking you? “jesus, baby, you're so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyes heavy as he looks down into yours. “want me to get you off with my hand first, before you take my cock? i mean, you're wet enough that you should be alright, but… i want you to feel good. comfortable. s'all about you, angel.”

shit. you have a sneaking suspicion that this man might genuinely be the death of you. but at least you'll die happy, yeah?

smiling, slightly dazed, you shake your head. “just want you to fuck me, daddy. need it, needed your cock all night.”

“you're sure?” george caresses your cheek.

“i'm sure,” you nod, humming happily as you watch him pump himself and drag his length through your wetness. “put it in, please.”

“sweet girl,” he kisses you, deep and slow, and pushes into you, the same. “oh my god.”

you're speechless, breathless, completely fucking brainless - all you can think about is the utterly delicious way george is stretching you out. nobody you've ever fucked before has really made you relate to the metaphor “rearranging your guts”, but with him it's crystal clear; he's so gentle and you're so turned on that it isn't painful, but he's definitely ruined any other man for you already and he's - you look down to check - not even fully inside you yet.

you giggle, slightly delirious, at that realisation. george smiles at you, groaning as he bottoms out and stills inside you. “feeling good?”

“so fucking good,” you lean up to kiss him, whining against his lips at the slight change in angle. fuck, he’s deep. “fuck me, please.”

he smirks. “magic word?”

“fuck me, please,” you kiss him again, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip then pulling back and whispering. “daddy.”

“good girl,” george pulls your legs around his waist, slowly sliding out of you and back in; you both moan in harmony as he does. “jesus, you feel incredible.”

you preen, beaming up at him - the smile is knocked from your face as he speeds up, though, in favour of your jaw dropping in pleasure. “yeah, that's it. fucking me so good, don't stop, please.”

“not stopping until i get you off, angel, don't worry,” he shifts slightly again, his next thrust hitting a spot inside you that you didn't think existed; when he does, you whimper, the contact sending another gush to your core and shockwaves throughout your body. “oh, you liked that, didn't you, sweet girl? shall i do it again? yeah, i think i will.”

he does, ripping a cry from your throat in the process. your legs quiver around his waist, the repeated hits to the area sparking them into movement, and you clutch desperately at his forearm beside your head. “daddy…”

“what is it, angel?” george leans down to kiss you, still fucking you relentlessly. “tell me what you want.”

your brain is growing hazier by the second, dopamine and serotonin and god knows what else overpowering all your motor functions, but you still manage to oblige. “want - fuck - want you to choke me.”

“fuck,” george’s eyes roll back slightly. “you're sure?”

you nod, stomach contracting in ecstasy. “need it, need you.”

“you're so fucking cute,” he grins, incongruous with the way his big hand wraps around your neck and presses, just enough for you to sigh happily and clench around him. “think you really might be an angel, by the way,” he pants out, never letting the rhythm of his hips drop. “you feel like heaven. look like it, too. and trust me, later on,” he kisses your neck, dragging his tongue up so he can whisper in your ear. “i am going to get on my knees and worship you for hours.”

okay, it's settled - he's perfect. you can never fuck anyone else ever again. “please.”

“‘please’ what, sweet girl? please do that?” he coos, sucking another mark just under your jaw. “or please make you cum?”

“cum,” you choke out from under his hand, legs practically thrashing from how good you feel. “please, daddy.”

“gonna be a good girl and help me, then?” george looks you straight in the eye, his almost completely shut in pleasure. “touch yourself for me. show me what you're gonna do every time you think about this, about me.”

christ alive. you obey (you're not sure that you'd be unable to resist that voice even if you wanted to), grabbing one of your tits in one hand and sliding the other between your bodies to your clit. as soon as you touch the bundle of nerves, the shockwaves pulsing through your body increase tenfold; if not for george above you, grounding you, you reckon you'd have shot off the mattress by now. through a quivering jaw, you talk to him. “m'so close, so fucking close.”

“me too, angel,” george’s eyelids flutter as he talks. “don't fight it - cum for me, my good girl, cum on my fucking cock.”

your body does as it’s told, a final surge of pleasure flowing through your body so strongly that you actually black out for a second; your fuse is relit by george groaning, gravel and guttural, in your ear, imminent climax signalled by his hips falling out of rhythm for the first time so far and his hand slackening on your neck. “oh, fuck, i'm there. can i… inside?”

“yeah,” you breathe out. “fill me up, daddy.”

“shit!”

with a moan of your name, george buries himself to the hilt inside you one final time, thrusting shallow and kissing you fiercely as he paints your insides white. once he’s done, he carefully lies down on top of you and rests his head in the crook of your neck, still inside you as you both catch your breath. despite finishing last, he’s the first to speak, moving to hover over you and kiss you again. “i'm so glad you decided to go out tonight.”

“me too,” you giggle. “same again next week?”

“absolutely. i'll be the one waiting by the speakers.”

#and yes i DID crop matthew out of the pic thank you for asking #mads muses #mads does writing #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel fic #george daniel x reader #george x reader #george daniel smut

221 notes · View notes

gilded-fern · 1 year

Text

Braids (Kratos x Reader)

A/N: i am so incredibly down bad for this man I wish he was real.

Reader uses she/her

Word Count: 839

It was a rare occasion where you managed to get Kratos to just relax and Atreus took Mimir out to go hunting. The two of you were resting in bed, your back leaned against the spartan’s chest. The two of you were laying in bed, the soft crackling of the fire filling the silence. Your hands were occupied with a knife and a wooden bead you were carving. You had created several of these beads already, an idea forming in your head. You put your knife back in its sheath and off the bead before turning around, your chest pressed against Kratos.

“Is something the matter?” your lover asked his expression stoic as always. His hand gently rested itself on the small of your back gently moving up and down.

“I’m going to braid your beard my love” you declared, setting the perfectly crafted bead on one of his pectorals and making yourself comfortable raising your hands to his face.

“Are you now?” The man asked a rare smile forming onto his face, his hand gently squeezing your waist. “And what makes you think I will let you?”

“You love me too much not let me” you gleefully proclaimed pressing a soft kiss to the man’s nose. Before starting your little task, your hands gently grasped the facial hair and began to work. You furrowed your brows as you worked with the hair right under his lips. “You should continue to grow your beard” you grumbled struggling with the shorter hair, a soft rumble of laughter from underneath you.

You continued to work attempting multiple times to braid his beard and secure the bead, but you failed multiple times. The facial hair is long enough to braid but not really long enough to hold the bead without looking a bit silly. Letting out a large groan you planted your head on Kratos’ chest, your fingers letting go of the small braid you had struggled with.

“Are you finished?” Kratos asked with a hint of mirth in his voice, his hand moving to pick up the bead forgotten on his chest. He awaited your response examining the small object, it was a simple small wooden bead. “Have you been making these with the intention of braiding them into my beard?” His gaze moved back down to you shaking his head with silent laughter when he saw your face still pressed into his chest.

“I was… didn’t realize how annoying your beard was though… and these beads aren’t really made to go in beards.” You grumbled lifting your head and gazing back into Kratos’ eyes. Your annoyed expression softened as you began to gently rub your thumb against his cheek. The two of you sat like that for a moment, Kratos seemingly frozen by your gentle touch and the love in your eyes. It was you who broke the trance scooting off of your lover and up and out of bed your back to the man as you searched the house “I have an idea, do we have any twine?”.

“Perhaps” The spartan answered back watching you search the home. You quickly found the object you were looking for as well as the other wooden beads you had crafted. You sat back down, Kratos sitting up as you made yourself comfortable in his lap again. “What are you doing?” the man behind you questioned his frame leaning over you to catch a glimpse. You were focused quickly braiding the twine together, when suddenly you reached over and pulled Kratos arm into your lap. You gently opened his fist where the wooden bead that had started this all was held. You slid it onto the braided twine, along with the other beads you had carved. You gently wrapped the bracelet around your lover’s wrist, frowning when you realized it was too small and continuing to braid.

“And… done!” you exclaimed, tightening the sliding knot onto Kratos’ wrist. The bracelet was rather crude and in all honesty not very pretty. But to Kratos, you had made it which made it extremely precious. He gave a soft nod of approval, a rare smile gracing his face.

You were more than satisfied with that response, feeling no need to push your typically stoic lover. Reclining fully against Kratos you gave a quick peck to one of his pectorals. Kratos laid down on his back, bringing you onto his chest with him. The two of you laid like that in silence, the soft crackling of the fire filling the air. Kratos had a loose hold on you, one of his hands on the small of your back and the other playing with the ends of your hair. Soon enough you began to drift off in the comfortable hold of your lover.

#kratos x reader #kratos #gow x reader #god of war #god of war ragnorak

1K notes · View notes

une-femme-de-lettres · 1 year

Text

Imagine

Sewing and mending your clothes after a mission

This is highly specific and detailed but I love the idea. Also domestic 141 is the best thing!!

Laying low after a mission is definitely not the best part of your job. You often times find yourself stuck in an old safe house with your teammates, sharing a small space with them, while not knowing when you’ll be able to go back on the field.

But there surely is one thing that these days can offer you, is some time to think, process the things you’ve seen and get some rest. And as you are forced to figuratively mend and repair your mind, you often take advantage of the peace and quiet to literally mend and repair your equipment; clothes, gear, tools or weapons… anything that could’ve been damaged during your latest intervention.

The whole habitation is quiet as you make your way to the living area. Your teammates are there. Price is watching some obscure documentary about the fishing industry in South America on the telly, the sound brought to a minimum. Soap is mindlessly doodling in his journal, not looking particularly satisfied with his work. Gaz is taking a nap slouched on the couch beside Price, he’s probably tried watching the documentary, didn’t work out too well…

And Ghost is quietly cleaning his pistol, methodically clearing every little piece of any gunk, grime and leftover powder. The clicking of the metal pieces give a rhythm to the silence. You hate to interrupt such a peaceful picture so you speak quietly.

“Hey,” you start, a few eyes moving over to look at you, “I’m gonna take some time to sew up a few things. Got anything that needs mending?” you ask them.

“I’m good, thanks for the thought, though,” Price responds with a gentle smile that warms your heart a little. You nod and turn to Soap.

“I don’t think so, Lass, but thanks.” He can’t think of anything off the top of his head for now, so you finally look at Ghost. His back is slightly turned to you, you can see him looking back slightly and responding with a shrug.

He’s been way quieter around you lately, you noticed. But Ghost is Ghost, right? So you don’t really pay him any mind and give one last nod before going back into your room. On your way there, you don’t notice Price’s slight head movement directed towards Ghost. And behind the door of your room, you don’t hear the husky sigh Ghost let out as he stands up from his seat.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed as you silently pass your needle through the fabric of your torn tank top. It’s not major tear, nothing a quick stitching can’t fix. You’re focused in your task when a light knock on your door makes you look up.

Ghost is slowly entering your room, his gaze fleeing yours. As it often does lately. He speaks quietly, his voice still very composed, just like every time you’re working out there on the field, precise and efficient.

“Do you have a spare needle?” he asks. You notice the balaclava in his hand before he holds it out slightly in front of you. “I need to repair this,” he finishes. You look at him for a moment, trying to keep your thoughts at bay. He requesting your help with anything outside the field was not unheard of, but it was still pretty new… Why does he look so cute?

“Sure, there you go,” you respond, picking a small needle and some black thread in your tiny sewing kit. You hand the objects to him and he takes them with a grateful nod. He looks about to leave when he stops in his tracks, not sure if he should ask you.

“This is a knit fabric, I’m not sure how to…” he starts hesitantly, showing you the piece of clothing again, “go about it,” he concludes. You fight the small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and pat the empty space on the bed covers beside you.

“I’ll show you, if you want,” you say and he complies surprisingly quickly.

In your line of work, whether it be on skin or cloth, a man needs to learn out to sew. It’s a primordial skill when you’re in a survival situation, to keep your clothes functional. Ghost in an intelligent man, you realize he probably knows how to take care of his stuff beyond just keeping his guns working.

But even you find knit fabrics tricky to work with. One wrong stitch and the next time you use your item, it might very well run enough to render it unusable. And your heart flutters at the idea of him asking you for help, even for such a tiny little thing.

Ghost sits beside you, the mattress dipping ever so slightly, making you lean towards him just a little. He prepares his needle and thread while you put your own work aside. Once this is done, you locate the small hole in the balaclava he’s laid on his thigh to free his hands. You hand it back to him, pointing towards the repair area.

“First, you need to thread all the loops left open to stop it from running,” you indicate. The loops you’re mentioning are tiny, but precision is your job, so they’re all threaded very soon and you can begin the real work.

“Then you can thread through that and darn it just like a woven fabric,” you say, mimicking the technique moving your finger back and forth. He starts mending the piece, using your advice.

The needle looks comically small in his massive hand. The size of things makes his movements quite awkward. And it doesn’t help that he’s holding the needle with the very tip of his fingers, barely touching it, as if he were afraid to do something wrong.

You smile gently at the sight and decide to help him further. Your fingers brush against his as you move his hand so he can work pushing the needle towards himself instead of away. A technique you’d found way more efficient over the years.

“It’ll be easier if you hold it from this side,” you say, your voice quiet and thoughtful. The voice he loves to hear rolling off your tongue and lips when you are close to him. “Guide the needle with your index and thumb and push it with your middle finger,” you explain as he watches your hands working his fingers into position with a curious eye. “Like this.”

He starts using your latest advice, religiously following your movements as you mimic the gesture in the air. He manages to work faster, his hand steadier. You smile. His needle work starts taking shape. “Nice work,” you say, turning your head to look at his face. His eyes are looking straight back at you. For once in quite some time now, his gaze doesn’t dart away from yours. It just gently moves to your slightly parted lips and stays there for a moment. A moment that doesn’t last nearly long enough for him.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost x you #ghost x reader #reader insert #imagine #soft ghost #fluff #task force 141 #domestic fluff

1K notes · View notes