#but i still have pain and i still have discomfort and i still limp and i still feel like my kneecap is floating in a fucking soup

[foldingfittedsheets]

I think something a lot of other people can relate to is the way that you get so conditioned to discomfort that you stop registering it.

I remember sitting at the table with my family, eating dinner as a child. I’d try to eat, because of course I was hungry. But sometimes the flavor or texture was so repugnant that it moved into a category of Not Food.

“Two more bites before you can leave the table.”

“I can’t,” I’d say, trying to explain the impossibility.

But because I was a child they heard, “I won’t,” and made me sit at the table. I’d sit in dull agonized silence, bored and hungry for hours until bedtime when they’d give up. I’d hate myself for not eating and my parents for forcing me to sit there. The few forcefeeding moments ended in vomit.

They’d say, “If you don’t eat this you can’t eat a snack later,” and I moved past trying to communicate my discomfort into accepting that I’d just be hungry.

That state of affairs didn’t last, because my parents realized nothing could force me to eat so they catered to my palate, worrying they’d starve me. But the message stuck. If you can’t do anything about a situation, just accept the suffering.

A few years later my mother called me off the playground to ask, “Are you limping?”

I shrugged. My feet had hurt for a long time, but that was just the way things were now. My mom pulled my socks and shoes off and gasped. The soles of my feet were covered in huge painful planters warts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” She demanded but I could only shrug at her. I’d learned a long time ago that saying things about my discomfort didn’t matter, so now I had no words. Sometimes things hurt and sometimes they don’t. I simply accepted and did my best.

Now as an adult trying to learn to improve my own conditions can be hard. If I make food that I can’t eat I’ll force myself to sit at the counter still, full of guilt and self loathing, trying to will myself to eat it.

At first I needed my betrothed to gently take it away to present me with something I could eat. Now on my own I can usually admit that it’s not happening before too long and get something else, but I still feel guilty.

Laying in bed at night waiting for my betrothed to finish getting ready I let out a huge sigh of relief when they turned the lights off.

“Why didn’t you turn them off if they bothered you?” they asked the first time it happened.

“I didn’t even know it was bothering me until it was gone.”

Assessing my physical state now to see if I can improve it is something I’m still relearning but I’m relieved to finally have the space and support to do it.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

You're his favorite show (2)

Choso is determined to win that one on one with you. Even going as far as to deny his own pleasure.

Divider: @rookthornesartistry

Content: fem!reader, reader is a camgirl, self pleasure (choso, reader), overstim (Choso), denial mentioned (also choso), pretties (readers name for followers) sex toys(vibrator, faux cock), lots of cum, parasocial behavior forming

Wc: 1.2k

Part one, Part Three

His stomach muscles tensed, another load of cum landing on his tummy as he watched you. Keeping one finger on the heart button, spamming them as quickly as he could. He needed to win. He had to. His finger was cramping, screaming from the awkward position he had it in, but he ignored all pain, all discomfort. Choso had told himself, after your announcement, that he was going to ignore his cock. Even if it was hard, leaking, the tip a flushed red. He would ignore it. And he had, his sole focus was pressing that heart over and over again. He would win if he did this, he was sure of it.

“Gonna make a pretty mess for me?” He heard you purr, your form leaning back in the chair as you held a small bullet vibrator to your clit. He felt like you were speaking directly to him and he'd never deny you. A glob of saliva was immediately spit onto his hand, wrapping around his length. Which is how he ended up coming four times, his hand still stroking his soft cock as he watched you. Twitching with sensitivity.

Fuck. He'd never forgive himself if he lost his one chance to talk to you in private because he couldn't resist you.

Even so, he never stopped pressing the heart. And he continued until your back arched, your arousal coating the toy. Funny how he started to harbor hatred and jealousy towards that little thing. He watched your naked chest rise and fall, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Subconsciously, he licked his lips. “Mmm…”you hummed, thumb searching for the button to turn off the toy. And when you pulled it away, he audibly groaned. Watching as a string of slick still connected you to the head of the vibrator. “I see lots of hearts here, pretties. You're gonna make it difficult to choose a winner.” you giggled, sitting forward a little as you scrolled. He held his breath as he awaited the verdict, his dick lying limp against his stomach. He'd clean himself up later.

“Hmmm, it seems that three of you spent and sent the same amount. Megadaddy00, callmepapa, and princ3charming.” His heart thumped when you addressed him but it clenched too, they'd all sent the same amount?

“Guess I'll have to choose,” you gave a pout to your lips. “Sorry pretties, I didn't expect three people to spend..” you looked at the amount, “$1,000 each.” Had he really spent that much? Choso was paying little attention. It's okay, he'd just take extra shifts. “How about this, give me three days mmkay? I'll announce the winner then.”

He would wait. For eternity if he had to, for you.

The next three days passed painfully slow. Especially since longer hours at work meant less time checking your social media. Your website. Anything for an update. He knew you said three days but, isn't he the obvious choice? He didn't want to wait anymore. So when he got home that day, he quickly made his way into his room. Not even bothering to take note of the ‘late rent’ note on the door. You were doing another show tonight. The answer had to come now.

He shrugged off his clothes, settling into bed, pulling out his laptop. As soon as he joined, so did you, your pretty face appearing on his screen.

“Hello, pretties. Thank you for being so patient. I know how much you wanna know who won.” Millions of messages popped up in the corner but he was too focused on you. He couldn't even bring himself away enough to tell you how pretty you looked again today. “I won't draw it out for much longer, the winner is….princ3charming!” You giggled, resting your elbows (and tits) on the table's surface. Did you just say…he won? All the blood drained from his face. His hands shook. Was this really happening?

“I'll call you privately after today's show to set up a time.”

Choso didn't think his heart could beat any louder than what it was currently doing. Thumping harshly against his chest.

Once more, Choso was left panting and sweaty. A mess of cum sitting on his tummy as his hazy eyes watched you. Even more excited now that he knew he'd get to see you. One on one. Talk to you, watch you. A show only for him. Fuck, the thought alone was enough to make him hard again. His spit covered palm slid up and down his length, leaving a mess clinging to his balls. You came too, your pretty pussy spasming around the faux cock you'd been thrusting in and out of you. A shiny sheen of liquid coated the toy when you slipped it out. You hummed, bringing it to your lips. Licking your own arousal off the toy.

“Fuck…fuck…” He whispered, stroking his dick even though it protested, leaving him to come very little. Choso was surprised his balls weren't completely drained yet.

“Thank you for joining, Pretties. And princ3charming? I'll be contacting you soon.” You gave your signature blow kiss before ending it. Choso was left with his mess, eyes glued to the screen as he waited. He wanted to clean up, but what if he missed your call while he did that? Choso couldn't risk it. So he sat in an uncomfortable mess of cum. A small chime came from his laptop, your small picture popping up in the middle.

Holy shit. He looked around nervously, teeth sinking into his lip as he pressed accept. It was just a voice call but fuck, he felt like he could pass out.

“Hello, princ3charming,” you cooed. And he didn't know how it was possible but his dick gave an excited twitch. “Hi…” God his voice sounded rough, scratchy. “Congratulations on your big win! When would you like to accept your prize?” More than anything, he wanted to say right now. To get to watch you lose yourself again. Making a mess that only he could see. But with one look at his poor, trying its best to harden dick, he thought against it. “Tomorrow…?”

“Tomorrow is perfect, around 8 work for you?” He nodded then mentally slapped himself since he knew you couldn't see him. “Yes…it's fine.”

“Wonderful, I'll see you then pretty.” His face heated and his dick jumped, again. And he could feel that you were going to hang up. “Wait!” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I made a mess…like you wanted.” Please be proud of him. Praise him. He loves you so much. You chuckled, “Did you now? You can show me firsthand tomorrow.” He heard a click before the call disconnected. Fuck. It was starting to get painful now, how badly his erection wanted to rise with need. But he couldn't, his poor cock was overused.

This wouldn't do. He needed to be ready for you. To show you, like you'd asked. Which means he'll have to hold off on touching himself until eight. No morning jerk offs to your video or imagining you riding him until you made a mess of him instead of those lackluster toys.

Tomorrow? He'd truly make you notice him.

Taglist: @adanfore, @matchafroggies724, @sabo-has-my-heart

[scribblesofagoonerr]

The journey to recovery begins now.

Heres the next part! ✌🏼

Let me know what you think? I have a lot of time on my hands currently unable to move much, so this is the result!

Credit to @alotofpockets for giving me the courage to continue to write!

Pairings: beth mead x teen reader, vivianne miedema x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You never truly appreciated how much you took your knees for granted until it was too late, leaving you to confront the stark reality of their absence during the grueling weeks that followed after your surgery.

The initial stages of your rehabilitation post-surgery, each day felt like an uphill battle against the constraints of limited mobility. Every single step was a painful reminder of your body’s fragility, which left you teetering on the edge of frustration.

The simple tasks you once took for granted now felt like insurmountable challenges, even the thought of walking a few steps sent a wave of discomfort radiating through your knee, serving as a constant reminder of your newfound vulnerability.

Reflecting on the moment that led to this predicament, you can’t help but regret it as your knee injury could have been avoided. Perhaps if you had chosen a different path that fateful night, the outcome would have been drastically different.

“Where are you off to?” Viv’s concerned voice broke through your thoughts, she had virtually been watching over you like a hawk since your return from the hospital.

“I’m just going to the toilet” You muttered, struggling to get up from the sofa but you were just too stubborn to ask for any sort of help.

Vulnerability was something you’d never dealt well with, it was a trait that was deemed unacceptable in your previous harsh upbringing. Weakness was a luxury that you couldn’t afford, it was a lesson that had been ingrained in you from childhood.

You could practically hear the stern cold voice of your biological father as if he were standing directly behind you, whispering into your ear.

“Do you need a hand?” Beth’s offer was laced with genuine concern, finding it difficult to watch you struggle unwillingly.

“No” You snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface; You hadn’t meant to be so horrible, it was just sometimes easier to revert back to a defensive coping mechanism that you had been conditioned to over the years as you grew up.

“Just know I’m here if you need me” Beth’s reassurance hung in the air, a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

“Just shout for us if you need anything, okay?” Viv chipped in, reminding you as she watched you limp off in the direction of the bathroom, although there was a weight of worry lingering incase you somehow hurt yourself in there.

Beth noted her girlfriends’ vigilant gaze and softened her expression, “She’ll be alright, Viv. She’s only gone to the loo, remember?” she joked, amusedly.

“I know, I am just worried in case she aggravates her knee or something” Viv admitted her concern, anxiously biting her bottom lip, “She really needs to be cautious” she added.

“It’s okay to be worried, but we have to let her do things for herself” Beth replied, offering comfort to alleviate her girlfriend's anxiety about you, “If needs help then she’ll shout, remember?” she reminded her.

Viv folded her arms, still visibly worried for you as she tried to listen out in case there’s a sudden slip in the bathroom, “I just can’t help but feel anxious, Beth. What if she hurts herself in there?” she repeats her worries.

“I understand, liefje” Beth placed a comforting hand on Viv’s shoulder, “But we have to let her have some independence too. We can’t smother her with our concerns” she explained to the Dutch woman.

“You’re right, I just need to remind myself of that– I just hate that she is going through this. It’s not fair” Viv mumbled, shaking her head.

Beth gently took a hold of Viv’s hand and squeezed it, “It really isn’t fair, but we’re going to do all that we can to support her, every step of the way, no matter what” she declared.

Deep down, you knew your injury wasn’t anyone’s fault, yet your reflex was to just continuously push your loved ones away once more. 

Despite your attempts, it seemed futile, especially with surprise visits becoming a regular occurance.

Apparently, today was no exception.

Unable to start your rehab anytime soon, you found yourself wrapped up in self-pity on your bed, cocooned in blankets and lost in a Netflix TV show that you had zero interest in but since your remote has gone AWOL, it left you with no choice but watch it, but at least Myle was there for company.

“Y/N/N/! We’re here!” Kyra’s unmistakable voice cut through the air, announcing her arrival.

“Kyra, she might be asleep” Alessia’s voice followed through, a touch of caution in her tone.

“Well, she might not be” Kyra retorted, barging into your room with her usual typical energy to find you awake, “See, Less? Told you that she wouldn’t be asleep!” she grinned back at the blonde.

“Wouldn’t have much chance with the way you’re shouting” You mumbled, acknowledging both of their presence.

Alessia offered an apologetic smile, “Hey, Y/N/N. We just wanted to come and see how you’re doing” she explained.

“Oh, you know? I’m fantastic” You words are laced with sarcasm.

“Well, we brought snacks” The blonde attempted to lift your dampened mood, gesturing to the bag of the treats that they had brought you.

“Wonderful” You barely entertain the idea of the sugary treats as you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, disinterested.

“I can tell she’s definitely excited about that” Kyra mocked your enthusiasm, taking hold of the bag from Alessia’s hands.

Alessia shot Kyra a warning look before turning back to you, concern etched on her face, “Hey, Y/N/N, are you okay? Truthfully?” she questioned.

“Just fuckin’ peachy” You sighed dramatically, still refusing to meet their gazes, dismissing them with a wave, “How’d you guys get in, anyway?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Beth let us in before she left” Kyra explained, perching on the end of the bed.

“Oh” You mumbled in agreement.

“Someone’s feeling grumpy today” Kyra teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she started to delve through the bag and pull out a packet of sweets.

You snatched the packet away, tearing it open with unnecessary force, “Wouldn’t you  be if you couldn’t walk with out assistance?” The frustration was evident in your tone of voice.

Kyra raised her hands in mock surrender although the mischief still sparkled in her eyes, “Noted. I’ll steer clear of touchy subjects” she quipped, exchanging a glance with Alessia.

Undeterred, Alessia took a seat beside you, mindful of your injury, “I get it that you’re frustrated, Y/N/N” she said softly, attempting to connect with you.

You rolled your eyes with the irritation simmering, “Well, excuse me for not being in the mood for a pep talk” you remark, your tone sharp.

“Come on, lighten up, mate” Kyra interjected, reclining against the bed’s end with a playful grin.

Ignoring her, you continued to sulk, stuffing more sweets into your mouth  with unnecessary force, not in the mood for conversation.

Alessia sighed as her concern deepend, “I just… I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. We know what you’re going through is difficult right now” she ventured cautiously.

“I don’t want to talk about it” You snapped, your frustration boiling over, “I just want to talk, that’s all I want. I want to be able to get out of this damn bed and feel normal again!”

“Well if you’re looking for a miracle, I think you’re in the wrong place” Kyra couldn’t resist a quip to wind you up.

“Kyra” Alessia’s reprimand was gentle but firm, signaling an end to the teasing.

A tense silence settled over your room, broken only by the sound of your frustrated sighs and the crinkle of the sweet packet that Kyra continued to help herself too.

“Listen, Y/N/N, we’re here for you, okay?” Alessia told you with a gentle voice, “Whatever you need, whether it's someone to talk to or just in silence together, we’re here” she stated, determinedly.

You met her gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and gratitude, even if you were sometimes way too stubborn to admit it, “Thanks, Alessia” you muttered, the harshness of your voice starting to dull as you realised that it wasn’t any good to take your anger out on your team mates, who only wanted to help you.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Kyra leaned forward as her playful demeanour was replaced with genuine concern, “Seriously mate” she said, her voice uncharacteristically serious, “We hate seeing you like this. Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.

You hesitated to answer, you were torn between your desire for independence and the comfort of having your friends by your side, “I don’t know” you admitted finally, your voice wavering slightly, “I just… I just hate feeling so helpless, you know?” 

Alessia reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as she gently pulled you into her embrace, “It’s okay to feel that way” she said softly, “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll all help you get through it together” she promised you.

For a moment, the weight of your injury felt a little lighter, the burden now shared amongst your friends who refused to let you face it alone.

“Thanks, Lessi. Thanks, Kyra” You mumbled, burying your head in her chest as you allowed yourself to lean on them for their support, knowing no matter how tough the road ahead might be, you wouldn’t have to walk in alone, “Could one of you please pass me the remote? I don’t know what I’m watchin’ but it’s so boring” you muttered, complaining which made the two of them laugh.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[keqism]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

⊹ feat. itoshi rin

⊹ premise. in which itoshi rin discovers that life is not like a romance novel.

⊹ cw. GN reader, rin & reader are aged up / 20+, miscommunication

When you get back from your Tuesday evening classes, Itoshi Rin has guilt written all over his face.

On a regular day, you would be greeted at the door by your boyfriend, trapped in his embrace while he presses his face into your neck like a black cat asking for attention. But today, Itoshi Rin is sitting on the ground in front of the couch, furiously avoiding your gaze.

"What are you hiding?" you ask suspiciously, watching his spine visibly stiffen at your question. Crouching down in front of him, you scan the area for answers, searching for anything out of place.

"Nothing," he grumbles, but the way he shifts away from you and picks at the loose thread on his sleeve says otherwise. 

"Rin," you chide, reaching up to tilt his face towards yours. Teal eyes meet your own, and you can practically see the discomfort swimming in his irises. "Did you kick a football into the window? Or did you fight with the old man next door again?" 

"Neither." His answer is curt. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

You stare at your boyfriend, chewing on your bottom lip and contemplating whether or not you should push him further. But Itoshi Rin has the tenacity of a boulder, and no matter how far you push him up a hill, he'll eventually come rolling back down to where you started.

Stubborn bastard. But he's your stubborn bastard.

"Alright," you sigh. And to Rin's relief, the incident is pushed aside.

Or so he thought.

Over the next few days, Itoshi Rin walks on eggshells around you. Whenever you enter the room, he's closing all the tabs on his laptop and slamming the screen shut with a red face. When you crawl into bed at night, he's sliding away from you until he's practically hanging off the edge, the broad plane of his back mocking you. Morning kisses are replaced by cold shoulders, dinner for two slowly becomes dinner for one. The distance between the two of you grows larger; from the top of the hill, you watch his form trudge back down the slope.

"Do you think he's cheating on me?" You glumly ask Bachira during your weekly convenience store visits. Picking at the tab on your empty beer can, you watch as he inhales a two-hundred yen onigiri in one bite. 

"Itoshi Rin? Cheating?" He snorts around a mouthful of rice before taking a sip of his beer. "I'm surprised he was able to pull you—I doubt he's cheating."

"So then what's his problem?" you frown. "He hasn't talked to me in days—he hasn't kissed me in a week. It's like we broke up without actually breaking up." You gasp, sitting up and slamming your hand onto the table. "He still loves me, right?"

A hand flicks the center of your forehead, a sharp pain shooting through your face. "Don't be stupid," Bachira clicks his tongue at you. "That boy is head over heels for you, seriously. I thought football was the only thing he could love, and then he met you. It's sickening."

You slump back into your seat, rubbing your forehead with one hand. "So then what do I do?"

Another onigiri is inhaled. "Just talk to him," he says.

And so after your Tuesday evening class, you corner Rin in the living room again. 

"Rin," you hiss, tossing your backpack onto the floor. He flinches. "Show me what you're hiding under the couch, right now." And Itoshi Rin—with his tenacity of a boulder—must have the IQ of one too, because he has the audacity to deny your claims. 

"I'm not hiding anything," he argues, but you've had enough of his bullshit. Desperate, you slam your backpack into his face and dive for the ground, fingers grazing against something solid. But before you can grab it, Rin is yanking you back by your ankle and pinning you to the ground.

Amidst your scuffle, you glare up at his stupidly beautiful face, struggling against his firm grip for a moment. But then you fall limp and sigh, observing his disheveled appearance and how he avoids your eyes. 

"Rin," you gently cup his face, and teal eyes flit to yours. "I'm not going to judge you, whatever it is. I promise." And as if to emphasize your words, you offer your pinky up to him, your hand hovering in between your bodies.

A moment passes, anxiety flickering through his face. But then he's silently hooking his finger around yours and helping you sit up, the tips of his ears reddening. You glance at your boyfriend once before reaching under the couch.

… Books?

Rin has his face hidden in his hands as you pull book after book out from under the couch. Classic romance stories, love poems, shoujo manga—one might think that your boyfriend stole an entire section of your local library. You study his figure for a moment, at a loss for words.

"Rin? Do you want to explain or…" you trail off, and at the sound of your voice, he burrows further into his arms, curling into himself.

His voice is muffled when he speaks. "I don't know how to love you," he confesses. And when he lifts his face, Itoshi Rin has guilt written all over his face. "I don't know what I'm doing and I feel like I'm the only one blindly navigating this relationship, so I was trying to learn," he blurts out.

You're at his side immediately, hands sliding across his back in an attempt to comfort him. "Rin," you sigh, "look at me." And he obliges, insecurity clouding his eyes. 

"I love you," the confession comes naturally. "And I know you love me too. You don't have to tell me every day, and it doesn't have to be like a romance movie. I love seeing your face when I get home from class. I love it when you share half of your ice cream with me even though you want to eat it all. And I love the fact that we can sit in silence together and feel comfortable. You don't have to change the way you love, Rin. Okay?"

At your words, Rin feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. And then he feels stupid for doubting you, for doubting that he would ever be deserving of your love. Embarrassment smothers him at the sight of your smile, your laughter ringing out as you press your lips against his.

"Stupid bastard," you mutter into the kiss, and he huffs out a laugh in response. "Did you really read Sailor Moon just for me?"

He groans. "Shut up, please."

Although Itoshi Rin may sometimes have the emotional capacity of a boulder, being in his arms feels like home. And even though you may have to chase after his love, you know his heart belongs to you—and yours, to him. 

In your opinion, that's better than any love story out there.

thank you for reading / comments and reblogs are appreciated !

[katsumox]

hihi!! idk if ur reqs are still open but :,) thinking about jason coming back from a really bad patrol, like he's all bloody and bruised and shit. cleaning him up even when he insists he's fine and kissing his bruises, just like a lot of comfort. sorry if this makes no sense LMAOO i've never requested something before!! tysm for reading have a nice day <33

thank u for the request my love !!!!!! reqs for jason r always open<333

this is roommate!verse because hngghhhhhh okay anyways !

“Oh honey, I’m home,” a sarcastic modulated voice rings out from the balcony. You don’t even have to look up from your spot on the couch to know it’s Jason.

“Don’t ask me where the redheads are,”he continues, “Thing one and two are off doing… fuck if I know.”

His voice is tight with irritation and poorly disguised pain as he all but limps into the living room.

Your eyes widen at his state before your mind settles into work mode.

“Shirt. Off now,” you say, jogging to the bathroom for the med kit stashed under the sink.

“No warm welcome, huh,” Jason teases as he tosses his helmet to the ground. He hisses as he tugs off his shirt, exposing the bruise-littered expanse of his musculature.

“I’m fine,” he rumbles, “No life threatening cuts or nothin’. Just…” he trails off with a sigh as you apply the cold antiseptic to his wounds.

He shuts himself up, despite the quiet whines of discomfort clawing at his throat. He watches you work as he fights the urge to snake a hand around your waist and keep you there, pressed snugly into him.

“Just one more,” you mutter, tapping at the gash near his jaw, “Wonder Woman bandaid?” You ask, looking up at him with those big doe eyes.

He grunts in confirmation, eyes flitting from your form to something off in the distance.

“Let me kiss it better,” You coo as you press the bandaid to his jaw.

Jason frowns as he looks around the apartment’s living room. It’s dark and empty, save for the two of you.

“Thought we couldn’t do the whole PDA thing in shared spaces,” he rumbles, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re breaking the rules.”

“Fuck rules,” You hum, “No one gives a shit about rules.”

You press a kiss to Jason’s jaw, right next to the bandaid.

“Fuck rules,” Jason parrots, slinging his strong arms across your hips.

You kiss the J shaped scar on his face before standing on your tip toes to let your lips ghost the yellowing bruise under his eye.

He exhales, watching you intently as you press feathery kisses down his bruised neck and collarbones.

His eyes stay glued to your lips as you kiss the now-scarring wound on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jason airily murmurs to no one in particular, “No one gives a shit about rules.”

[rottenimagines]

NIGHTFALL WITH NEGAN

Summary: your first encounter with Negan in the Dead City universe. That tall, strange man walks into the abandoned library that has been your refuge for the past few months, in the middle of the night.

(Little disclaimer: English is not my native language, but I try my best, I promise♡)  

.

.

“Who are you?!” The girl points her gun at him immediately.

“Woah, woah, hold your horses, sweetheart”. Negan replies in good spirits and not even bothered by the fact the girl is pointing a gun at his face right now. He raises his hands with a small mocking smirk. “Just some guy figurin' a library's a better spot than a cornfield for takin' cover.”

He then leans back against the wall of the old library, “and who might you be? Besides the girl with the gun, of course.”

“I'm the girl who's gonna make a window in your forehead if you don't scram, asshole.” She shakes the gun to emphasize her point, trying to seem tough and imposing, but as she takes a step forward, the wound on her leg opens and her bandage begins to turn red. She winces in pain.

Negan lets out a friendly chuckle. However, when he notices her limping in pain, he starts to feel sorry for her and stops.

“Oh dang, seems like someone's dealing with a bum leg. Need a hand with that, instead of tossin' around threats about holes in my head, darlin'?” He asks her in the most charming voice he can muster in this situation.

She steps back without lowering the gun. “Stay away! Just… Leave. This is my place.”

“And who are you to claim an abandoned library like it’s your property?” Negan asks with a smirk, still relaxed and trying to charm her again.

“Besides…” he gestures towards her injured leg, trying to get closer to her, “your leg doesn‘t look so good, how about I take a look? Come on, you might just lose it if you don't get some help.”

She hesitates for a few seconds, but the pain is too intense to even think straight now. “You are a doctor?”

Negan slowly starts approaching her again.

“I can patch people up a bit, sure”. He looks at her injured leg then and his eyes soften, his grin is still on his face, but he has become more sympathetic in his tone and doesn’t look threatening anymore.

“Mind if I check it out? I swear I'll be easy on it”, he asks while moving closer to her.

“I swear to God, if you pull anything…”

Negan chuckles and shakes his head, still approaching her, but keeping a good distance so she feels comfortable enough.

“Relax, I just wanna lend a hand, that's it. I ain't a threat to you”, he tells her while finally standing in front of her and kneeling down. He looks up into her eyes. “May I take off the bandage? Then we can figure out if it’s bad or not first.”

She sighs, feeling the soreness from her wound, and discomforted by the unknown man kneeling in front of her. She lets him remove the bandage from her shinbone, but doesn't cease pointing the gun at him.

Negan takes the bandage off slowly and inspects her injured leg closely. He tries to be careful and gentle, but when he touches her skin around the wound he can feel how tense her muscles are.

“I can already tell it’s bad”. He mumbles, with a concerned look as he gently looks up in her eyes. “You didn’t disinfect it for some time, did you?”

she shakes her head no.

Negan sighs and then slowly starts to disinfect the wound himself, being as gentle as he can. While he’s treating her wound he still keeps her attention by talking.

“Do you have a name?” he asks her gently, “besides the girl with the gun, I mean.”

She shakes her head again, while still trying to stay stoic and still, despites the pain. Her lower leg looks really bad.

“None your business.”

Negan notices how she tries to stay stoic while he treats her, but he also notices that she’s in pain; a lot of pain. His expression softens even more and he tries to make it not so uncomfy for her.

“Hmmm, okay…” He murmurs quietly and tries to smile at her a bit. “May I just call you something then? Otherwise this‘ll get kinda awkward, you know.”

“It won't because you're leaving. As I told you before, this place is mine.”

Negan doesn’t reply and continues to disinfect her wound, ignoring her.

Finally, he’s finished with all the cleaning and disinfecting processes and stands back up while still smiling at her.

“Alright…” He says with his friendly tone, “can I check if you can at least walk properly?”

He seems genuinely more concerned for her well being than the fact she still wants him to leave.

“I can. Now, grab your things and go”, she points the gun at him again.

Negan just smirks and shakes his head.

“Let me ask you something, sweetheart…” he moves a little closer to her again. He still holds his friendly smile and his tone is still very calm.

“Where am I gonna go? It’s still the apocalypse outside and it’s the middle of the night. You really want me to just leave and die in the wilderness?”

“I don't care, just-” She barely has time to respond when he swiftly strikes her arm, causing her to release the gun, which falls to the floor. Observing her poised to retaliate, he preemptively lands a forceful kick to her already injured leg, making her to collapse on the floor. She groans in a mixture of pain and frustration.

“You son of a bitch!”

Negan just chuckles softly and slowly steps towards her, now towering over her.

“Now now, no need to act so violent, darlin', let‘s just behave like civilized people, okay?” He says while giving her an encouraging grin. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Hell, I even fixed your leg, so why don’t you let me stay here for tonight? Pretty please?”

She sighs and looks around, searching for a compelling argument that might convince him to leave, but she can't find one. Pain clouds her mind, and fear and the mistrust feeling aren't making it any easier either. She gazes into his eyes once more.

“I know who you are. I've seen the posters in the city. The asshole they're looking for... It's you, isn't it?”

Negan nods at her, still smirking and not looking worried at all. On the contrary, he even seems somewhat proud of himself.

“Oh yeah, that’s me alright.” He says in a friendly tone, still not trying to seem threatening at all.

“Name’s Negan”

[justmystyles]

Home Stretch

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: as the tour comes to an end, the schedule starts to visibly take its toll on Harry, and you can't help but worry.

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: we've all seen the Frankfurt night 2 videos. our boy is slowing down, so i had this idea for a blurb. i'll miss all the looks and videos and everything we've been getting the last couple of years, but i'm so glad he's going to be able to take some time to relax and recover.

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You watched on with so much pride and joy as Harry gave his all on stage. It was the second night in Frankfurt, and your last night on the tour for two weeks. You had some family obligations that you needed to go back to the states for, but you promised Harry that you would be there for his last show. And then the two of you would ride off into the sunset and hide away together for a few weeks. You were looking forward to that. 

Your mind had drifted off, thinking about the two of you isolated in a villa somewhere, but quickly snapped back to the present when you saw Harry falter onstage, it looked as if his knee had given out. Your heart stopped and your eyes went wide. 

You lean over, getting Brad’s attention. “Did you see that?”

Brad nodded in response. “It’s been a long tour, and you know how hard he pushes up there.”

Your worried eyes are locked on Harry when it suddenly clicks; he hadn’t been doing as many jumps as he usually does, his satellite stops had been lacking their usual stomp. He’s hurting, but still pushing so hard. You can’t seem to let go of your concern. Your fingers start tapping against your thighs, a nervous tick of yours. You have to do something, you can’t just stand here and watch him push and continue to hurt himself. 

“I’m going to go back and make sure there’s an ice bath ready for him as soon as he gets off.” You tell Brad, who nods in acknowledgement, but you don’t see it. You had turned and started to make your way backstage as soon as you finished the sentence. 

When you get to the backstage area, you arrange an ice bath for him and make sure his dressing room is set up with towels and his post show change of clothes. You just have to be doing something.

Once you had things set up for him, you went to the side of the stage to watch the rest of the show. You were studying his every move looking for any signs of pain or discomfort. When he noticed that you had moved from your usual spot in the front of the house, he shot you a questioning look. You simply shrugged and shot him a wink. 

Your concern continued through the rest of the show, relieved when he substituted finger guns for his usual ‘Kiwi kicks’. You positioned yourself so that you would be right there when he got offstage, as he skipped toward the exit, you saw the moment where he decided he was far enough from the crowd that he could drop the facade. His skip quickly turned to a limp, and he practically doubled over. 

You rushed over to him, placing a hand on his back and offering your other arm to him for support. “Baby, are you alright?” 

Harry chuckled, a small cough escaping him. “I’m fine princess, you worry too much.” He leaned in, kissing you softly. “Why’d you come back here? I like having you in the audience.” 

Despite assuring you he was fine, he continued to use your arm for support as you slowly made your way to his dressing room. “Because you’re hurt, and I wanted to make sure to get everything set up for you as soon as you got offstage.” 

“Set up everything?” He asked. You opened the door to his dressing room to reveal the ice bath you had prepared for him. He looked over at you with a wide smile. “God, I love you.” 

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. He puts his hand on the back of your head, deepening it. You pull away with a smirk. “I love you too. Now get in there, I’m going to go–”

“No, stay with me.” He pleads. “You’re leaving tomorrow and I’m not going to see you for two whole weeks.” He gave you his best puppy dog face, the one he knew you couldn’t resist. 

“Ugh, fine.” You roll your eyes playfully. “But I am not getting into that thing.” You point to the tub filled with ice and water. 

“Your loss,” he shrugs, closing the dressing room door and immediately stripping down. 

You get yourself comfortable on the couch as Harry lowers himself into the tub. You give him a few minutes of silence as he adjusts to the temperature change. 

“So, how did I do tonight princess?” He asked once he was settled. 

You let out a deep sigh. “You were good, but I’m really starting to get worried about you.” 

His brow knit in confusion. “Why?”

“Harry Edward Styles, you have got to be kidding me?”

“Did you just use my full name?” He was taken aback. 

“You’re goddamned right I did. Baby you did amazing, you always do, but you give so much of yourself, it’s starting to take a toll on you. And I’m worried about you.” 

“Oh angel,” he reaches his hand out to you. You scoot over on the couch to get closer to him, taking his offered hand. “Please don’t worry. There are only five shows left, I’ll get through these and then I’ll get some time to rest. We’ll get some time to rest.” He brings your joined hands to his lips. “Besides, I have you here to take care of me, so I know everything will be fine.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not going to be here for four out of those five shows. What if something bad happens?” Your breath hitches slightly as you try to control your emotions. 

Harry’s brows round in concern. “Baby, come here.” He tugs on your arm, and you narrow your eyes, making him chuckle. “I promise I won’t pull you in.” You move closer, kneeling beside the tub. He rests his hand on the side of your neck, pulling you in so your forehead rests against his. “I promise you, I am going to give everything I have responsibly for the last few shows. I will keep modifying things, and take it extra easy offstage. But I owe it to the fans to give them everything I possibly can until the end.”

“I know, I’m just afraid that you’re going to give so much that you won’t have enough for yourself once this is all over. You’re too selfless sometimes.” You raise your free hand, pushing a stray curl out of his face.

Harry kisses you, you can feel him smile against your lips. “I love you for worrying about me as much as you do. And for taking care of me like this. As much fun as I’m having, and as sad as I am to see the tour come to an end, I’m looking forward to having some time to take care of you, and try to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me this whole time. And I plan to be in tip top shape when I do that.” 

“You don’t have to pay me back for anything. I do this because I love you, and the fact that I get to be here by your side and love you is all the payback I need.” You lean in, placing a lingering kiss on his lips.

Harry groans as you pull away. “Are you sure you need to leave tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’ve got my mom’s whole birthday thing. I need to be home for that.” 

“But you’ll be in Italy?” He questions.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say with a smile. “Somebody is going to need to have an ice bath ready for you.” You wink. 

“Will you do that one with me?” He asked hopefully.

You scrunch your face, hating the idea of sitting in a giant bucket of cold water. “Maybe.” 

[hey-kae]

Can we get a Drabble where reader sprains her ankle/wrist and Charles gets worried about her? Love uuuuu

a/n: i was tempted to have reader sprain her thumb instead (iykyk) but i stuck to the storyline… love you too girly🫶🏻

If there was a camera filming you as it happened, even you would’ve probably been tempted to laugh. You still can’t comprehend what went wrong but before you knew it, you were on the ground with pain in your ankle, the people around you all resisting the laughs until you at least got up safely.

Well, almost all of them anyway.

There was Charles as the exception, just going into panic mode instead.

“Shit, what happened?” He said with worry, quickly crouching down to help you, frowning as he grabbed your hands and pulled you up, steadying you against his body.

His eyes scanned you up and down many times, checking for any signs of injury or pain or discomfort of any type.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, his hands cupping your face.

You nodded, because you really thought you were, but the second your foot met the floor properly, you winced and grabbed onto Charles’ shoulders. You had clearly sprained your ankle.

From that moment on, and for multiple days, Charles was practically your personal assistant. From carrying you around the apartment to getting you anything you needed, he did it all.

The first day, he was constantly nagging you about keeping the ice on your ankle.

“You want it to feel better quickly or no? Keep holding the ice against it.” He repeated between questions of “Are you in pain?” and “Are you feeling better?”

For days, he barely let you leave the couch or the bed.

“Toi, tu ne bouge pas!” Don’t move! He ordered endless times per day.

“Charles, it’s just sprained. It’s not broken!” You replied almost every time.

Every morning, he woke up and asked you if your ankle felt better, and throughout the day, as you moved around with a limp, he’d be trailing behind you, ready to jump into action, even when you would tell him to go sit down already.

“You’re so clumsy without being injured, baby. I’m gonna stay.” He wrapped his arms around your waist from the back, his lips meeting your neck in a quick, loving kiss.

“Promise me you’ll be more careful. I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Charles made you promise, and you absolutely weren’t planning on falling again, but how would you guarantee him that it would never happen again?

You promised anyway, smiling at his care, knowing that was the only way to ease his worries, “I promise you, baby. I’ll be careful.”

a/n: thank you for the request🫶🏻

[gay-dorito-dust]

You looked left, then looked right before then hobbling down the hallway, safely making it to the dimly kitchen of your apartment without so much as a peep but just when you thought you were in the clear. The lights turn on and in the doorway, you could clearly see the disappointment upon Adam’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

‘Fuck.’ You hissed under your breath.

‘Shouldn’t you be in bed, resting.’ You grimaced, knowing you’ve tested his patience one too many times with your constant escapades that were birthed from your boredom of being bed bound.

To provide a little bit of context: The most recent mission you and the guardians had partaken in turned out well enough to be considered a success…had you weren’t then later on ambushed by what you had originally thought was the corpse of your slain enemy; leaving you in a state of injury and on bed rest until all sustaining wounds were properly healed over.

During this, Adam had appointed himself your caregiver and would often catch you in the act of attempting one of your many grandiose plans of retrieving a snack from the fridge when your hunger could no longer be ignored or your comfort plushie, before ushering your back to your room and getting what it was that you needed for you. Oftentimes you’d think to yourself that Adam was doing this out of a sense of guilt in not being able to react fast enough but he -as much as the rest of you- couldn’t have known that amongst the dead there would be one still clinging to their last embers of life whilst scheming the ultimate revenge plot.

‘This is the fourth time this week.’ Adam began his chastising.

‘I know…’ you muttered.

‘Your wounds will never properly heal at the rate that you’re going.’ He continues and it feels as though you’ve heard this same rant more then you’d like, but then again you guessed it was kind of your own fault for not actively doing your part in allowing your wounds the time to heal; Even now you felt them scream at you in agreement from beneath the thick gauze as they throbbed in anguish, causing you to wince and bite down your groans of pain as to not alert Adam.

However Adam was more observant then you or anyone gave him credit for and had saw the way your hand instinctually reached for your heavily bandaged side and how the muscles in your face contorts into one of pain and discomfort. His posture relaxed, arms limp at his side, as his face softened; All he wanted to do was make sure your healing went accordingly but he failed to take into account of how restless you’d become from the inactivity, which had lead to your current situation becoming a common occurrence.

‘Your wounds are flaring up again.’ Adam said softly as he made his way to your uninjured side. ‘Let me help you back into bed at the very least.’ You mulled it over but ultimately decided that you should stop making Adam’s job as your caretaker harder then it should be and actually allow your wounds their time to heal because what you were doing wasn’t helping anyone and it certainly wasn’t helping your healing process, only proving in hindering it even more then necessary.

‘Fine.’ You said, accepting that you were loosing this battle, allowing Adam to escort you back to your room and helping you find a comfortable position without irritating your wounds even further then you already have. Before Adam left your room, you find yourself calling out to him. ‘Adam.’ The golden boy looks over his shoulder, ‘I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass. I know you were just trying to help and all I’ve been doing is make it harder on the both of us. I just wanted to say thank you for putting up with me.’

‘You could never be trouble for me.’ Adam admits. ‘I find your inability to stay situated an admirable trait as it only tells me that you have a restless spirit that won’t go quietly into the night. So don’t apologise for I’ll always be here whenever you should need me.’ He finishes with a soft smile before closing the door behind him and you found yourself smiling when drifting to sleep.

[muiitoloko]

Your sentence

Summary: Turpin and his wife deal with their pregnancy, and have some quality time together, before he pronounces her sentence.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnant sex, smut, nausea and self-criticism.

Author's Notes: Greetings, esteemed audience! Welcome back to the latest escapades of Turpin and his bun-in-the-oven wife. Believe it or not, I actually managed to pen this chapter in the ungodly hours of dawn, and wait for it... I even gave it a makeover! *Busts out into an impromptu victory dance* Now, here's the million-dollar question: Is Turpin still recognizable, or have I accidentally turned him into a unicorn-loving, tea-sipping ninja? Your feedback is as precious as gold, so spill the beans.

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh part here.

As you sat in the bathtub, the warm water soothing your tired muscles, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. The maid's gentle ministrations as she rubbed your back only added to the blissful sensation, and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully indulge in the moment.

However, your peaceful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, and you tensed as you heard Turpin's stoic voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there, his expression impassive as he observed the scene before him.

"Taking quite a long time with your bath, aren't you?" he remarked, his tone cool and detached.

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, knowing that you had been indulging in the luxury of the bath for longer than usual. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, quickly attempting to apologize. "I'll be finished soon, I promise."

But Turpin ignored your apology, waving the maid to leave. The maid quickly excused herself and left the room, leaving you alone with your husband. His intense gaze bore into you, and you felt yourself becoming nervous under his scrutiny. Instinctively, you wanted to hide from him, but you knew that Turpin didn't like it when you hid.

As he walked closer, you couldn't help but notice the slight limp in his step, a reminder of the pain he was still experiencing from the previous night. You bit your lip, feeling a surge of guilt at the sight of his discomfort.

"What are you doing?" you asked, unable to stop yourself from voicing your curiosity as Turpin began to undress.

Turpin sighed lightly, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Taking a shower," he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It'll be quicker if we both shower together."

You blinked in surprise at his suggestion, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. "Oh," you mumbled, feeling foolish for not realizing his intentions sooner.

Turpin chuckled softly at your reaction, though there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn't seen before. "You always did have a knack for asking obvious questions," he teased gently, his voice lacking its usual edge of cruelty.

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief at Turpin's lighter demeanor. As he finished undressing, revealing his half-hard cock, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the prospect of showering together.

Turpin noticed your hesitation and stepped closer, his gaze softening as he reached out to cup your cheek tenderly. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle and caring. "I know things have been difficult between us, but I want you to know that I'm trying. I really am."

Touched by his sincerity, you leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "I know, Richard," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with an earnest expression. "And I appreciate it more than you know."

With a small smile, Turpin settled into the bathtub across from you and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the tub was spacious enough for both of you. The warm water enveloped you both, soothing away the tensions of the day and allowing you to relax in each other's company.

"Is your hip still bothering you?" you asked softly, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to gently touch Turpin's thigh.

Turpin nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. "A little," he admitted reluctantly. "But it's much better after the healing ointment. Thank you for that."

You smiled warmly at his gratitude, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having been able to provide him with some measure of relief. As Turpin leaned back in the bathtub, he motioned for you to come closer, his gaze softening as he met your eyes.

"Come here," he murmured, his voice gentle and inviting. "I want you to bathe me."

Your heart fluttered at his request, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Swallowing back your apprehension, you obeyed, getting on your knees in the bathtub and inching closer to Turpin until you were within arm's reach.

As you reached out to cup water in your hands and pour it over Turpin's chest, you couldn't help but notice the gray strands mingling with the black hair that covered his chest. Despite his imposing demeanor, there was a vulnerability in the way he allowed you to care for him, a vulnerability that touched something deep within you.

Turpin watched you intently as you bathed him, his gaze lingering on your breasts, which seemed fuller today than they had yesterday. A flicker of desire flashed in his eyes, and you felt a flush of heat spreading across your cheeks at the realization that he was observing you so closely.

With steady hands, you continued to bathe Turpin, washing away the day's grime and tension as you worked. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your touch, a stark contrast to the rough exterior he often presented to the world.

As you reached up to wash his face, Turpin leaned into your touch, his eyes closing in contentment. You couldn't help but marvel at the intimacy of the moment, the simple act of caring for each other forging a connection between you that felt stronger than any words could convey.

However, your peaceful moment was shattered when you suddenly felt something warm trickling down your chest. Startled, you looked down, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realized that you were leaking breast milk again. Gasping at the unexpected sensation, you quickly withdrew your hands from Turpin's body, feeling a surge of embarrassment washing over you.

Turpin, noticing your sudden movement, opened his eyes to look at you, his expression shifting from relaxation to curiosity. His gaze fell upon your leaking breasts, and a flicker of surprise crossed his features before a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was almost as if he found the sight of you leaking milk to be divine, stirring something primal within him.

As you attempted to excuse yourself from the bathtub, flustered and embarrassed by the situation, Turpin reached out to stop you, his voice low and commanding. "No," he insisted, his tone firm. "Stay."

You hesitated, unsure of what to do, but Turpin's unwavering gaze held you in place. With a reluctant sigh, you acquiesced, settling back into the warm water as Turpin's eyes lingered on your leaking breasts.

Feeling self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, you tried to divert his attention away from your embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Richard," you stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I don't know why this keeps happening."

Turpin's expression softened as he reached out to gently caress your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual demeanor. "There's nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, his voice soothing. "It's a natural part of pregnancy and childbirth. Besides, I find it... intriguing."

You blinked in surprise at his admission, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected reaction. Turpin, noticing your uncertainty, leaned in closer, his gaze darkening with desire as he reached out to cup your leaking breast in his hand.

The sensation of his touch sent a shiver of arousal coursing through you, and you couldn't help but gasp at the intimate contact. Turpin's eyes gleamed with hunger as he watched the milk dribble from your nipple, his own arousal evident as his gaze flickered down to the growing bulge between his legs.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Turpin leaned forward, his lips capturing your leaking nipple in a hungry kiss. You gasped at the sudden contact, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body as Turpin began to suckle greedily at your breast.

His rough, yet surprisingly skilled ministrations left you breathless, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair as you arched your back, offering yourself up to him completely. Turpin groaned around your nipple, his own arousal evident as his cock throbbed against your thigh, desperate for release.

As Turpin continued to suckle at your breast, his movements growing more urgent and desperate with each passing moment, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The combination of his touch and the warmth of the water surrounding you sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, threatening to consume you entirely.

With a primal growl, Turpin released your nipple from his mouth, his eyes dark with desire as he met your gaze. "I need you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with raw need. "Now."

You nodded eagerly, your own desire burning hot and fierce within you as you reached out to guide Turpin's throbbing cock towards your aching core. With a shared gasp of pleasure, he entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely as he claimed you as his own.

The sensation of being joined with him in such an intimate way was overwhelming, and you cried out in ecstasy as he began to move within you, his movements strong and sure as he drove you both towards the edge of oblivion.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you began to move with him, your hips rising and falling in rhythm with his thrusts. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge of blissful release.

Turpin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he continued to suckle at your breast, his other hand trailing teasingly down your spine. You gasped at the intimate contact, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you that burned hotter and brighter with each passing moment.

You continued bouncing on your husband's cock, enjoying the wave of pleasure building inside you, as Turpin released your nipple and buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling deeply as if he was trying to imprint your scent into his memory. The sensation sent shivers of pleasure throughout your body, and you couldn't help but whimper in response, desperate for more of his touch.

Turpin held your hips tightly, his movements growing slower and more deliberate as he fought to prolong the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure. He knew he couldn't last much longer at his age, and he was determined to savor every moment of your intimacy together.

You whimpered in frustration, craving the release that seemed just out of reach. But Turpin held you firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he slowed his movements to a tantalizing pace. The ache between your legs grew more intense with each passing second, driving you to the brink of madness as you begged for mercy.

As you felt the familiar coil of pleasure building within you, you couldn't help but plead with Turpin, desperate for him not to deny you your orgasm once again. "Please, Richard," you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "Don't stop. I need to cum. Please."

Turpin's expression softened slightly at your plea, his baritone voice low and husky as he complied with your request. Without a word, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles as he continued to thrust into you.

The sensation was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With each stroke of Turpin's thumb, you felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, driving you closer and closer to the brink of release.

And then, finally, it happened. With a shuddering gasp, you felt the wave of orgasm wash over you, your entire body convulsing with pleasure as you clung to Turpin desperately. He watched you intently, his gaze filled with satisfaction as he held you close, reveling in the sight of your surrender.

As you collapsed against him, panting and exhausted from the intensity of your climax, Turpin waited patiently for you to catch your breath. With a gentle hand, he encouraged you to climb out of him, and you did so reluctantly, watching him curiously as he stood up from the tub, you standing up as well, confused.

But before you could react, Turpin grabbed your shoulder and pushed you down, forcing you to your knees. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him, a mixture of apprehension and arousal coursing through you. Turpin instructed you to keep your breasts together, his voice low and commanding as he expressed his desire to cum on them.

You obeyed without hesitation, though a part of you found the request to be somewhat dirty. But Turpin seemed to revel in the idea, his eyes dark with desire as he grabbed his penis with his fist and began to touch himself.

The sight of your pregnant wife on her knees in front of him, holding her beautiful breasts together for him, was enough to send Turpin over the edge. With a primal growl, he released himself, his hot seed spurting out in thick, white ribbons as it landed on your waiting chest.

You gasped at the sensation, feeling the warm liquid coating your skin as Turpin continued to stroke himself, milking every last drop of pleasure from his release. He watched you intently, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in the sight of you covered in his cum.

As the last of his orgasm faded, Turpin finally released his grip on his cock, letting it fall limp against his thigh. With a satisfied sigh, he reached out to help you out of the tub, his touch surprisingly gentle as he guided you to your feet.

Despite the lingering sense of dirtiness that lingered in the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having pleased Turpin. And as you stood there, chest heaving and skin glistening with his cum, you couldn't help but wonder what other pleasures lay in store for you both.

Days later, the atmosphere between you and Turpin remained charged with tension, yet there was a subtle shift in his demeanor towards you. While he still maintained his authoritarian and cruel facade, there were moments of unexpected kindness and gentleness that he reserved exclusively for you.

Today was one of those rare days when Turpin seemed determined to be good to you, despite his usual impatience and short temper. You were feeling particularly unwell due to the pregnancy, the mere smell of food making you nauseous, and your emotions were on edge, causing you to cry at the slightest provocation.

And Turpin had been surprisingly patient with your mood swings, but as the day wore on, even his patience began to wear thin. The sound of your constant crying grated on his nerves, testing the limits of his resolve to be kind to you.

That night, as you sat in the opulent dining room of your mansion, eating the food with little appetite, Turpin's patience was finally reaching its limit. He listened impatiently as you sobbed uncontrollably, your tears flowing freely as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive.

Despite his efforts to remain calm, Turpin couldn't help but feel frustrated by your outburst. He had tried his best to be understanding and supportive, but your constant emotional turmoil was starting to fray the last of his patience. But Turpin controlled himself not to say anything, his jaw clenched as he continued eating. His patience had worn thin, worn threadbare by the relentless stream of tears and self-deprecating remarks that seemed to flow endlessly from you. Every sob felt like a dagger to his already frayed nerves, but he held his tongue, unwilling to lash out in anger.

But later, when the two of you retreated to the privacy of your bedroom, your tears continued to flow unabated. You sat on the edge of the bed, your shoulders shaking with each sob as you lamented feeling fat and unattractive. The weight of your pregnancy seemed to hang heavily on you, and Turpin could see the toll it was taking on your self-esteem.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Turpin rose from his seat on the bed, his expression dark and brooding. He crossed the room with purposeful strides, his baritone voice low and menacing as he approached you.

With a firm hand, Turpin pulled you out of bed and forced you to look in the mirror, your head throbbing from the strength of his grip on your hair. As you whimpered in pain, your eyes met his in the reflection, searching for some semblance of mercy in his dark, brooding gaze.

"You are mine," Turpin growled, his voice a low rumble of suppressed anger. "And no one insults something that is mine. Do you fucking understand? I'm tired of hearing your damn cries!"

You nodded meekly, unable to muster the courage to speak as Turpin's harsh words echoed in your ears. His cruelty was a reminder of the power he held over you, a power that both terrified and fascinated you in equal measure.

But then, to your surprise, Turpin's demeanor softened slightly as he released his grip on your hair, his hand moving to cup your chin. Through the mirror, you met his gaze, confusion and apprehension swirling in your eyes.

Instead of berating you further, Turpin spoke with unexpected tenderness. "Look at yourself," he instructed, his voice gentle yet firm. "You're not fat. You're pregnant, carrying my child. You should be proud, not criticizing yourself."

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, your eyes misting with unshed tears at his unexpected kindness. Turpin's words struck a chord deep within you, reminding you of the precious life growing inside you and the love you shared with him, despite the complexities of your relationship.

Turpin's hand lingered on your chin, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as he continued to speak. "You look beautiful pregnant," he murmured, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "You don't know how much it turns me on. You drive me crazy, damn woman."

A blush spread across your cheeks at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal flooding through you. Turpin's desire for you was both thrilling and intimidating, awakening a hunger within you that you didn't fully understand.

Before you could stop yourself, you hesitated, biting your lip nervously before voicing a hesitant request. "Richard," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Could... could you... fuck me in front of this mirror?"

Turpin's eyes darkened with desire at your request, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You want to see yourself, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky with anticipation. "Well, who am I to refuse such a request?"

With that, Turpin moved away from you and began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate as he watched you through the mirror. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, the sight of his muscular frame and thick, gray-streaked chest hair sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

Emboldened by his response, you obeyed his unspoken command and began to undress as well, your hands trembling slightly as you shed your clothes. Turpin watched you intently, his gaze filled with hunger as he waited for you to join him.

When you were both naked, Turpin caught you from behind in front of the full-length mirror, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he positioned you to his liking. You held onto the frame of the mirror for support, your heart racing with anticipation as you prepared yourself for penetration.

But Turpin surprised you, dropping to his knees behind you and burying his face between your thighs. You leaned forward, gasping in surprise as his tongue delved between your thighs, exploring your folds with fervent determination. Your grip on the mirror frame tightened as waves of pleasure washed over you, your moans echoing in the spacious room.

Turpin's hands spread your ass cheeks apart, granting him better access to your dripping slit. His tongue worked wonders, licking and kissing every inch of your sensitive flesh, coaxing delicious sounds of pleasure from your lips. You couldn't help but arch your back, pushing your hips back against him, craving more of his tantalizing touch.

"R-richard," you moaned his name, the sound coming out as a breathless plea for more. His response was a deep growl of approval, his ministrations growing more fervent as he teased and taunted your throbbing clit.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. But Turpin's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, commanding you to keep your eyes open if you wanted to see yourself.

With a gasp, you obeyed his directive, forcing your eyes open to gaze upon your reflection in the mirror. The sight of yourself, flushed and panting with desire, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment, sending a shiver of arousal coursing through you.

Turpin stood up behind you, his erect penis glistening with your juices as he spread them along his length. He commented on how hard you made him, his voice thick with desire as he confessed the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind.

"You torment me, you know," he murmured huskily, his breath hot against your ear. "Every moment I spend with you, I ache to possess you completely. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to walk around with an erection, knowing that you're the cause of it?"

His words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your core. Turpin's desire for you was intoxicating, drawing you further into the depths of passion with each passing moment.

With a primal growl, Turpin positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he prepared to claim you as his own. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of pleasure, knowing that with Turpin, there was no escaping the overwhelming intensity of his desire.

Turpin entered you slowly, his thick, hard cock sliding into your wetness with deliberate intent. You moaned softly at the sensation of being filled by him, your walls clenching around him eagerly. But when Turpin noticed your eyes closed, he reached out and tugged on your hair, pulling you back with a growl.

"Keep your eyes in the mirror," he commanded, his voice low and demanding. "I want you to watch as I fuck you, every thrust, every moan."

You whimpered at his words, a shiver of arousal coursing through you as Turpin used your hair as leverage, pulling you against his cock. "Yes, Judge Turpin," you gasped, your voice filled with need. "I'll keep my eyes on you, Your Honor."

Turpin's grip tightened on your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he began to pound into you with increasing intensity. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"You're so beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Absolutely beautiful. How could you ever think you were anything less than that?"

You moaned at his words, the sensation of his cock filling you completely overwhelming your senses. Turpin's hands roamed over your body possessively, tracing the curves of your hips and waist as he claimed you as his own.

With each thrust, Turpin's cock hit that sweet spot deep within you, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You couldn't help but moan his name, the sound filling the room as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure he provided.

"Judge Turpin," you cried out, your voice filled with longing. "Your Honor, please... fuck me harder."

Turpin's growl of approval echoed in the room as he complied with your request, his thrusts becoming even more intense as he pounded into you relentlessly. You lost yourself in the rhythm of his movements, the pleasure building within you until you felt like you were on the brink of madness.

As Turpin's cock continued to pound into you, you felt the coil of pleasure tightening within you, threatening to consume you entirely. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he released himself in a powerful climax.

You cried out in ecstasy as you felt his hot seed spilling inside you, filling you with a sense of completion and satisfaction. Turpin held you tightly against him, his grip unyielding as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging the exquisite torture of your shared pleasure.

"Your Honor," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm yours, completely yours."

Turpin's only response was a satisfied growl as he continued to claim you as his own, each thrust driving you both further into the depths of passion and desire. In that moment, you knew that despite the complexities of your relationship, there was a connection between you and Turpin that transcended everything else.

As Turpin calmed himself inside you, his movements slowing and becoming more tender, he reached down to rub your clit gently, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips. You arched your back, pressing closer to him as he watched your expression of pure ecstasy through the mirror, his eyes filled with admiration and desire.

"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection as he held you close. With one hand supporting your belly where the baby was growing, he continued to soothe you through your orgasm, his touch gentle and reassuring.

In that moment, Turpin couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt wash over him. He knew he didn't deserve you, didn't deserve the love and devotion you showed him every day. But he was selfish, a bastard who couldn't bear the thought of being without you. You were his, his beautiful and incomparable woman, who saw past his flaws and loved him despite everything.

As Turpin led you to the bed, laying you down gently before retrieving a damp cloth from the suite bathroom, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight of you. You sighed happily as he cleaned you, your eyes filled with love and adoration as you gazed up at him.

Once you were cleaned, Turpin set the cloth aside and went to the front of the wardrobe, intending to change into his sleeping pajamas. But as he glanced inside, his eyes fell upon his judge's wig, neatly arranged on the shelf. A smile tugged at his lips as he reached for it, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Returning to the bed, Turpin ordered you to sit down, and you obeyed without question. With a playful laugh, he placed the judge's wig on your head, watching with amusement as it practically swallowed you whole. You looked ridiculous in his judge wig, and you couldn't help but laugh too as you caught sight of yourself in the full-length mirror.

"It suits you, my dear," Turpin chuckled, his voice filled with warmth as he watched you. "Though perhaps a bit too big for your head."

You were surprised that he put the wig on you, when some time ago he scolded you for wearing the wig that he said was not a toy, but you ignored that, knowing that your husband was complicated and unpredictable, changing his mind and mood quickly.

Turpin leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he spoke. "Perhaps we should keep this little game between ourselves," he suggested, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn't want anyone else to see my esteemed judge looking so... absurd."

You couldn't help but play along, adopting a stern expression as you tried to imitate his husky voice. "Richard William Turpin," you proclaimed, your voice low and authoritative, "you are hereby sentenced to spend the rest of your days locked up."

Turpin raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, his lips twitching with amusement. "And what are the charges against me, Your Honor?" he inquired, his tone dripping with feigned innocence.

You poked his chest with your finger, trying to maintain your composure despite the playful glint in his eyes. "Your crimes," you declared, "are of causing sinful pleasures in maidens, seducing innocent maidens with your perverse charms."

Turpin's lips curved into a smirk at your words, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "And what is my punishment, Judge?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"You will spend the rest of your life locked in with me," you replied, trying to sound stern despite the laughter bubbling up inside you. "That is your sentence."

Turpin's smirk widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I must say, Your Honor," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "that sounds like a punishment I could learn to enjoy."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, the tension of earlier melting away as you enjoyed the playful banter with your husband. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached up and removed the judge's wig from your head, placing it on Turpin's instead.

"Your turn," you challenged him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Let's see if you can do better."

Turpin straightened up, adjusting the wig on his head with a smirk. As he adopted a more serious expression, his voice took on a low, authoritative tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"In the case of Mrs. Turpin," he began, his voice filled with gravitas, "I find you guilty of stealing my heart and disrupting the peace of my mind."

You couldn't help but hold your breath as Turpin continued, his voice unwavering as he delivered your sentence. "Your punishment, my dear, is to serve me for the rest of your life. You will keep me satisfied, attend to my every need, and be by my side until the end of time. You are stuck with me forever, even when I draw my last breath. You shall not have another man in your life; you are mine, and you will always be, just like I am yours."

You were taken aback by the intensity with which Turpin spoke, the gravity of his words sinking in as you realized the depth of his desire and possessiveness. Instinctively, you reached out and cupped his cheek, searching his eyes for some semblance of understanding.

"Richard," you murmured softly, your voice filled with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Do you truly mean what you say? Do you truly believe that I belong to you, and you to me? Are you my Richard?"

Turpin's expression softened at your touch, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of cruelty he often wore. He leaned into your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm as he spoke.

"Yes, my dear," he replied, his voice gentle and sincere. "I am already yours. I was sentenced as yours the moment I saw you for the first time. You captured my heart, and I have been yours ever since."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion at his confession, the realization that despite his flaws and shortcomings, Turpin truly cared for you in his own twisted way. As he leaned in to kiss you, you melted into his embrace, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

[spooky-pomegranate]

Price, What's Wrong?

Captain Price x Gn Reader Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Price struggles to deal with his emotions after your first mission with the 141 goes terribly wrong.

You stood outside the operating room in a brightly lit hallway and stared down at a small crack in the floor. You had been pacing over the same five-foot square of tiles for over two hours now. If someone had given you a blindfold, a pen, and a piece of paper you were confident that by now you’d be able to draw each tile from memory.

The doctors and nurses had tried to convince you and Price to wait in the visitors' lounge. They had told you that Soap’s surgeries would take a few hours and that you’d both be more comfortable waiting there. But Price didn’t care about comfort. He had demanded, and pretty adamantly so, that you both be allowed to stay as close to Johnny as possible. At least until he was awake again. But Price’s demands hadn’t gone over well and things had gotten heated rather quickly. Security had been called to forcibly remove you both from the hall, but a phone call from Laswell had righted the situation before it went too far south. Or at least that was your best guess. You had seen Price wave his cell phone in the air and yell something about “national security” and “highest clearance.” But you weren’t entirely sure what had been said beyond that because ever since getting to the hospital Price hadn’t spoken a word to you.

For two hours he had kept his distance, circling on one end of the hall while you circled the other. Occasionally you would pull your eyes up from the floor and catch a glimpse of him. Even from a distance, he looked more tense than you had ever seen him. His shoulders were ridged, pulled back in a taught line, and his fists were clenched by his side. You caught him rubbing his temples more than once and you wondered if he had a headache. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

Physically Price looked like he’d crawled out of the pits of hell. He was caked in dirt, grime, and blood. There were small cuts on both of his cheeks and one long gash above his left eyebrow. He was limping ever so slightly on his right leg and a fresh bandage wrapped his right shoulder in a thick layer of white gauze. After the incident with security, a nurse had bandaged Price’s injured shoulder. Although he’d been more than a little reluctant to let her. It wasn’t until the nurse had pointed out how unsanitary it was that he had been dripping blood all over the hallway that Price had eventually agreed to let her bandage him.

The entire time the nurse's hands had been on Price you had stared at him, watching his face. He had been completely stoic. There hadn’t been a single glint of pain or discomfort. Just a hardline expression that looked like it had been chiseled into his features. But then for a moment, when the nurse dug a little deeper into his open wound Price’s eyes had met yours and something in them flickered. You had thought that maybe he was going to break the silence and say something to you. That maybe he was going to call you to him. But then just as quickly as your eyes had met he had looked away and you were left alone again to wander your end of the hall with only your thoughts to keep you company.

But then two hours later your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. You turned and saw Price walking towards you. His eyes met yours before he turned and leaned against the wall, his head tilting backward and resting against the wall while his eyes closed. You took a step towards him, concerned, but before you could get close he held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just…give me a minute.”

You nodded, though you weren't sure if Price could see you.

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly.

"I'll be fine," he replied, his eyes still closed. “I… I’m sorry,” he began again, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry, love.”

“You don’t have anything to apolo-”

“No,” Price snapped and his eyes shot open.

“Price, it’s not your-”

“Don’t!” he interrupted, turning to face you completely. “Don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that. You don’t know what you're talking about. You have no idea and I…I can’t…”

Price’s words hit you like a brick, punching straight through your chest with an unexpected force. He’d never spoken to you like this before. With so much anger. So much rage. Then, before you could do or say anything, Price raised his hand in your direction. You reacted quickly, taking an uneasy step backward and nearly tripping over your own feet. Without thinking you raised your hands to your head and braced yourself for a blow.

But it never came.

“I… Love, I would never… that’s not…” Price’s voice was so quiet you barely heard him. He immediately dropped his hand. His anger deflated in an instant, replaced by a profound sorrow that etched deep lines on his dirt-streaked face. He took a shaky step toward you and timidly raised his hand again. You closed your eyes, this time without an ounce of fear.

You expected to feel Price’s calloused palm against your cheek or his fingers tangle into your hair massaging your scalp. You expected him to comfort you like he had done so many times… but again Price’s touch never came. Instead, you heard a soft thud and you opened your eyes. Price slumped against the wall.

"Please," he whispered, his voice laced with remorse. "Please listen to me. I didn't mean… I didn't mean to scare you. I could never hurt you."

———————————————————————

“I could never hurt you."

Price lied.

He knew that wasn’t true.

How could that possibly be true when the strongest men Price knew, the men that were under his care and his protection, were all in this very hospital broken and battered worse than he’d ever seen them.

Gaz had taken a bullet to the leg and was lucky that he hadn’t bled out on the drive to the hospital. Ghost wasn’t any better. He had suffered several broken ribs and a punctured lung. Although Price was surprised his injuries hadn't been any worse. He’d look like death when Price had found him in the hangar. Ghost had been pinned underneath heavy rubble after the last remaining enemy soldier had detonated a block of C4 in a suicidal attempt to take him out. The blast had been so large that it had blown up half the hangar in a fireball. And Soap… fucking Soap. So much of Johnny’s blood had seeped into Price’s gloves that he’d ditched them in the crumbled hangar while trying to free Ghost from the rubble.

Things had never gone this bad before. Never with the 141. Never with his own. His team. His brothers.

Suddenly Price felt hot and the lights became so bright that he could barely keep his eyes open. Price stumbled forward as his legs became weak beneath him. He reached back to steady himself against the wall, but it offered no support. Everything around him was spinning, the world tilting on its axis. He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his vision, but it only intensified the throbbing pain in his head.

Then a hand grabbed his arm and pulled Price away from the wall and onto a nearby chair. He looked up and saw you, concern and worry etched across your pretty face. You looked so scared. It only made the pain worse.

"Price, what's wrong?" you asked.

What’s wrong?

Everything.

Everything’s wrong.

Price was supposed to be a leader, the one who made the tough decisions and protected his team. He was supposed to be your love, your rock, your defender. All he had wanted to do was punch a hole in that stupid plaster wall, but he’d scared you half to death. He’d been so angry with himself at his failures that you’d expected his wrath to spill onto you. And now he couldn't help but feel like he had let everyone down. The weight of his failures bore down on him, each one a heavy burden that threatened to crush him. How had it come to this? How had he let things spiral out of control?

But the worst question of all was the one that hurt him the most. How was he going to keep you safe when he couldn't even keep his men safe?

The room seemed to close in around Price as he struggled to catch his breath. He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his palm. His breathing grew shallow and erratic. Each inhale felt like tiny shards of glass scraping against his lungs. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mixing with the grime and blood that stained his face. His vision turned fuzzy.

Price knew he was having a panic attack. He’d been taught the signs…he’d read the pamphlets on mental health and sat attentively in all the required lectures. But he’d never actually had one and now he couldn’t remember what to do. He couldn’t remember how to breathe. How to live.

He watched through the haze as you knelt in front of him. Your hands gripped his shoulders with a firmness that sent cool shivers down his spine.

"Price, listen to me," you said, your eyes locking with his. "Breathe. Take deep breaths with me, okay? In through your nose...and out through your mouth. In...and out..."

Price followed your lead, inhaling the crisp hospital air and exhaling all the tension and fear that held him hostage. Gradually, his racing heart started to slow and the suffocating weight on his chest eased bit by bit. Inch by inch.

"That's it," you murmured. “There you go, baby. Just like that.”

Price focused on the sound of your voice and on the sweet things you called him.

Baby.

Sweetheart.

Love.

Each endearment was a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge and he followed you to the light. Price closed his eyes as your hands slipped down his shoulders and ran over his biceps and forearms until your fingers slid in between his own. They fit so perfectly there, nestled against his skin, warm and soft.

“You’re here for Sergeant MacTavish?”

Price opened his eyes. A male doctor stood just outside the metal doors that separated the hall from the operating room. Price nodded at the tall man, afraid that if he spoke his voice would give out.

The doctor explained the details of Soap’s condition. By some miracle, they had stabilized Johnny. He’d require another round of surgeries in the coming weeks and he’d need months of rehab after that, but if things continued to go well they expected him to make a full recovery. It was a miracle. Truly Price couldn’t think of any other explanation.

“Sergeant MacTacish is asleep at the moment. But the sedation will wear off in a few hours.” the doctor added. “He’ll be groggy but you should be able to speak with him when he wakes. I’ve also arranged for an orderly to move him into an adjoining room beside Sergeant Garrick and Lieutenant Riley.”

Price nodded again, as the doctor turned back toward the operating room.

“Oh… one last thing,” the doctor added turning to look at you and Price over his shoulder. “Tell Laswell that she doesn’t need to threaten my entire nursing staff to get me scheduled for a surgery. I would have come in for this if she had just called my cell.”

Price laughed for the first time in nearly 24 hours. “I’ll let her know. Thanks, doc.”

The doctor disappeared behind the metal doors and Price let out a long and low exhale.

“Come on,” you said, standing up. “Let’s get out of here. I think you need some fresh air.”

Price followed you, hand in hand through the corridors of the hospital until you made your way to a quiet and empty snow-covered courtyard. You led him to a wooden bench under a weeping Higan cherry tree. The cascading and barren branches swayed in the evening breeze and Price stared up at the moon.

“I wish I could know what you’re thinking,” you said, giving his hand that hadn’t left yours a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t think you do.”

You smiled at Price and it broke his resolve. It always did.

“Try me.”

Price looked deep into your eyes and searched for the right words. The truth was heavy, tangled in a web of guilt and despair. He didn’t want to say it.

“I love you. More than I’ve loved anyone in my entire life. I love you more than I thought was possible. Please… please believe me when I say that.” Price paused. He let go of your hand. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

———————————————————————

You stared at Price, your heart pounding in your chest. The world around came to a standstill. "What do you mean, you can't do this anymore?" you whispered, voice barely audible as tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

You didn’t understand. He couldn’t be talking about you and him together could he? It had to be something else. This didn’t make sense. You loved him and he loved you. He had just said so.

"Price, I don’t understand. What do you mean?"

He stood, leaving you alone on the bench.

“We can’t do this anymore. You and me,” he said pointing to the space in between you. “It’s over. This thing has to be over.”

Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m going to call Laswell and she’s going to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere far from here… from me. She’ll put you in a witness protection program and I’ll make sure you go somewhere warm like you wanted. No one will be able to touch you. You’ll be safe. You can start over again and leave all this behind.”

“But I don’t want that. I don’t want to go anywhere. Please. I love you. I want to be here with you,” you sobbed as tears streamed down your face.

“This isn’t a choice.”

“It is a choice,” you insisted, standing up from the bench and stepping closer to him. “You can choose to be with me. We can figure this out together. There’s always hope, right? Isn’t that what you said to me? That there’s always hope, even when things feel impossible. We can do this together,” you pleaded, reaching out to grab his hand but he pulled away. “Price, please look at me.”

Price began walking toward the hospital, “You should say goodbye to Gaz and Ghost. You won’t have a lot of time.”

You sprinted toward him and blocked his path. Price looked down at you. Normally the height difference between you was something you enjoyed. You liked having to stand on your tiptoes to kiss him or wrap your hands around his neck. But now you felt intimidated by his size. He loomed over you and it made you uneasy. His eyes were cold and unrecognizable. The man before you had changed. You wanted your Price back. You wanted the man you loved back.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away? Is this because you don’t think I can do this? It was my first mission and I know I didn’t shoot when Ghost was with me on the water tower. I was just scared. But I fired when he left me. I did Price. I tried. I promise I really tried.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth at a dizzying speed. “And I’m sorry you had to save me again. I’m sorry that I got caught and forced you to save me. But I knew you would. I won’t let that happen ever again though. I promise you. I can do better next time. I will. Please I will do better. Just please don’t send me away. Please don’t do this. I need you.”

———————————————————————

Shit.

Price wished you hadn’t said all that. He wished you hadn’t spewed all your insecurities at him like that. You had opened the door for him and now he was going to push you out.

“You’re never going to be good enough.”

As soon as the words left Price’s mouth he wished he could have taken them back and swallowed them whole.

You began sobbing so hard Price thought you might get sick.

And just like that he’d hurt you again even after promising he wouldn’t. Price didn’t want to, but he had to keep you alive and this was the only way he knew how. He’d failed at everything else. Sending you away was the only thing he could think of. It was his final resort. If he could just put you on the other side of the world and let you start over, without him you’d finally be safe.

And then you could move on. You could start over. You’d done it once already. He knew you could do it again. You’d hurt for a while but it would only be a matter of time before someone else would fall in love with you. You were too beautiful, too smart, and too perfect to be alone for long. And then you could have a normal life. One free from terrorist, blood-shed, and torturous nightmares. You deserved that. A normal life, a better life. He could already see you with a house, a white picket fence, and a family. A real life. A happy life.

And you deserved that. You deserved normal and pretty things. All the things that he couldn’t give to you. He’d been selfish to ever think otherwise. Neither of you had ever talked about the after. About what you’d be to each other after the enemy was finally dealt with… and maybe this was why. As Captain of the 141 Price would always be facing some kind of danger and so would anyone he loved. He never wanted that for you. Maybe you both had avoided talking about your future because this was always how things were going to end.

Maybe this was never going to work.

Maybe this had been doomed from the start.

Tears stained your cheeks and you were shaking. “You don’t mean that,” you whimpered. “I know you don’t mean that.”

Price couldn’t look at you anymore. If he did he would fall apart. Quickly he turned and walked away, opening the doors to the hospital and sprinting through its labyrinth of hallways until he found himself in the parking lot. His chest ached and he felt bile rise through his stomach.

He fell to his knees.

He was going to be sick.

———————————————————————

(Read more from this story on AO3)

[ghoulymadge]

Gentle Hands in a Time of Discomfort

Papa Emeritus I x Reader Word Count: 2,249

Summary: Confronted by a lingering backache, you turn to Primo, discovering unexpected comfort in the simplicity of opening up.

(Or: Primo gives you a back massage.)

Tags: chronic pain, gender-neutral reader, comfort, fluff, briefest nsfw mention, primo gives you a massage, really self-indulgent A/N: I was sad and experiencing a flare-up from chronic back pain, which resulted in this. Enjoy. 🥺

AO3 Link

The sharp pain radiating from your lower back (or maybe your hip; you couldn't quite place it) made each step toward Papa Emeritus I's quarters as painful as the last.

You had been assigned to the library a few days prior, and while kneeling to return a book to a lower shelf, you felt, and heard, a sudden pop as you rose to your feet.

It hadn't hurt too badly at first, just a nagging discomfort as you continued to hobble around and carry out the remainder of your tasks. You made sure to avoid any and all shelves that were below waist height, getting one of the younger, more limber Siblings to do it for you. But by the time you returned to the confines of your room, you could barely stand.

Holding onto the edge of your desk for support, you fished through the drawer for the last of your painkillers and quickly downed them dry. It wasn't something you would typically do, but you didn't wish to retrieve your water bottle from the other side of the room. 

Sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth, you limped over to your bed.

You knew that the most sensible course of action would have been to consult with the abbey's physician. However, your irrational thoughts had you convinced that the problem would magically resolve itself by morning.

It hadn't, of course. Which is why, after explaining to Sister Imperator (or rather, explaining to her personal ghoul, who would then relay the message to her), the reason for needing the day off, you now found yourself standing at the door of Papa Emeritus the First.

Who better to confide in about aches and pains than an elder with the wisdom to understand your discomfort and empathise with your experiences?

As your knuckles rapped against the old oak door, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, you could feel the anticipation building. In all your time at the ministry, you'd, unfortunately, never actually spent any one-on-one time with him.

But based on your distant observations—whether it was watching him interact with the other siblings, attending one of his masses, or even as he tended to his plants in the abbey’s garden—you found him to be a gentle soul, despite his somewhat eerie demeanour, especially when he was dressed in his robes and papal face paint. 

It was why you decided to approach him rather than one of his other brothers.

After a short period of quiet, you began to consider the possibility that he had already retired for the night, a reasonable expectation given his age. However, as you started to withdraw, you heard what appeared to be the shuffling of slippers, followed by the gradual creaking of the door as it opened.

Emerging from the obscurity behind it, the face of the eldest Emeritus came into view, with the dimly lit hallway casting shadows that accentuated his weathered features. Though subtle, you noticed remnants of smudged black paint in the creases of his mouth and nose, suggesting he must have conducted mass earlier in the day. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment for having missed it.

"Sibling," he greeted you with a warm smile that forced the corners of his eyes to wrinkle. You found it incredibly endearing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You opened your mouth to reply, to explain your situation, when another twinge of pain in your back stifled your words. Instinctively, your hand reached around and rested on the source of discomfort. The tablets you’d taken earlier must have been starting to wear off. “Sorry, I—”

Worry etched across Papa's face as he swiftly moved to accompany you by your side, snaking an arm around you so you wouldn’t have to bear too much weight on the side that ached. Before you could protest, he was already carefully guiding you through the door and into his quarters.

"It seems that I have already unravelled the mystery of your presence here," he quipped as you both approached a set of welcoming armchairs draped in red velvet by an impressive fireplace. The warmth radiating from it touched your face even before you sat down.

As you sank into the plush chair to your left, you breathed a sigh of relief. The pain seemed to ease somewhat—perhaps comforted by the enveloping atmosphere of the room, or maybe by the company within it. The eldest Emeritus, having released his hold on you, offered a brief, comforting rub to your shoulder before taking the seat adjacent to you. A quiet groan escaped from him on the descent, which only reaffirmed that you had come to the right person.

"Now," he began, hands casually smoothing out the wrinkles in his robe, "is this a new development, or something that has been bothering you for some time, hm?"

You explained your situation, confessing that you’ve had the occasional ache in the past, but nothing so severe that it hadn't resolved itself after a solid night’s sleep. However, this? This felt different. The fear that it might be permanent was the real reason you hadn’t sought out help yet. You didn’t want them to confirm your worry—that you would have to endure it for the rest of your life.

“I only wish I could take the burden of this pain from you, amoruccio.”

“Papa—”

“Primo, please,” he corrected you, his voice filled with a gentle insistence, “and believe me, I understand what you are going through. It has been quite some time since I experienced a life untouched by pain. However, there are ways to manage it; you do not need to suffer.”

There was a brief pause during which his gaze met yours before he continued. “But firstly, you must promise me you will speak with our physician—tomorrow, preferably.”

You gave a reluctant nod.

“Use your words. Promise me.”

How could you refuse those kind, mis-matched eyes? “Okay, yes, I promise.”

Satisfied with your response, Primo gave a content hum. 

A comfortable silence filled the space between the pair of you. You opted to shut your eyes and immerse yourself in the comforting sounds of the wood crackling in the fireplace.

You weren't completely sure how much time had passed, as you had become so engrossed that you failed to notice Primo getting up from his chair to fetch something from the kitchen. It was only when he gently nudged your arm that you snapped out of your trance.

As you looked upward, you observed him extending a glass of water and some tablets to you. You graciously accepted and promptly downed them. While you drank, Primo couldn't help but watch as droplets of water traced a path down your chin. Despite the impulse to wipe them away with his thumb, he exercised self-control.

“These are likely stronger than whatever you have. You will want to sleep shortly after taking them, which is why I offer you my bed tonight.”

“Papa—,” you quickly corrected yourself, “Primo, I couldn’t.”

“I would be deeply insulted if you refused,” his tone was playful, but you got a sense that there was truth to his words.

With a defeated sigh, the painkillers appeared to act swiftly, just as Primo had cautioned. They left you feeling too tired to muster any resistance—not that you had the inclination to in the first place. Setting the glass you had still been holding down onto the side table, you steadied yourself by gripping the arms of the chair to stand up once more.

However, Primo wouldn’t have that. He signalled for you to let go and, instead, interlaced his fingers with yours. Simultaneously, his other hand rested on the middle of your back, aiding you in rising to your feet. You were relieved to find that the pain had mostly subsided for now.

“Come,” he led you past the kitchen and towards what you assumed was his bedroom door. As you enter, your eyes are immediately drawn to the oversized bed in the centre of the room. The frame is solid and impressive, but it's not too over-the-top; it has a laid-back elegance and just the right touch of sophistication.

You couldn’t resist gliding your hand over the burgundy silk sheets as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Is it to your liking?” Primo asked, reaching down to retrieve something from the drawer of the bedside table closest to you. He slipped it into the pocket of his robe before you got a chance to see what it was.

“This is probably the fanciest bed I’ve ever sat on if I’m being honest,” you remarked candidly.

“Is that so?” Primo chuckled with genuine warmth, returning to your side and maintaining his stance. “You should see Terzo’s then,” he suggested offhandedly. However, in that brief moment, a shadow of regret crossed his face, as if the realisation of the impact of his words had just dawned on him. "On second thought, maybe it is best if you do not."

“Nevertheless," he carried on before you could inquire about his previous remark, "before we retire for the night, there is one last thing I would like to do for you.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” you protested, genuinely touched by his thoughtful gestures throughout the evening. In a surprising display of boldness and wanting to outwardly express your appreciation, you reached out and held his hand with both of yours, gently rubbing your thumbs across his skin.

In response, Primo rested his other hand on top of yours. “Allow your Papa to massage your troubles away, mio dolce.”

Admittedly, the idea of indulging in a massage from the most senior Emeritus was undeniably an enticing one. While the gesture itself was not inherently sexual, it carried an intimacy that evoked a delightful flutter in the pit of your stomach and a subtle flush across your cheeks.

Yes. You would allow yourself this.

"Lie down for me then,” he instructed once you agreed, “on your stomach."

You complied, settling comfortably onto the cool sheets with your arms crossed in front of you, chin resting on top. Primo circled around to the opposite side of the bed, shuffled across, and repositioned himself beside you.

As you turned your head to face him, your lips curved into a smile. "If I may...?" he asked, his question lingering in the air as his hands hovered just above the small of your back, right at the hem of your top. In response, you not only raised it but also chose to remove it altogether—a gesture that not only made things more convenient for him but also reflected the profound sense of security you felt with Primo, a space free from any concerns of judgement.

He reached into the pocket of his robe once again to retrieve what he had placed there earlier—a small glass jar. You couldn't make out the label, if it even had one, but you assumed it was an ointment meant to soothe aches. At least, that's what you hoped for.

Primo deftly unscrewed the lid and scooped out a small heap of its contents. With a gentle touch, he began at your shoulders, his fingers moving in slow, circular motions. To your delight, each stroke was accompanied by a soothing warmth provided by the ointment. As the stress of the day melted away, you couldn't help but relax even further into the soft embrace of the bed.

He continued down your spine, focusing on a notably sensitive area in your lower back, the origin of your unease. To your horror, an involuntary moan left your lips upon contact, causing Primo to tense momentarily. Unaware to you, his body nearly gave away his reaction; beneath his robes, his cock stirred at the pleasing sound he’d unintentionally drawn from you.

"Careful,” Primo chuckled softly, “I may not possess the youth I once did, but I am still a man."

You buried your face in your arms, a mix of embarrassment and the realisation that your entire face was turning red. "’I’m so sorry," you mumbled with a muffled voice.

He waved off your apology. "Such reactions are completely natural. I consider it a compliment, my dear."

After a few minutes, the tension on your end had eased as he finished the massage, completing the final circles into your back. "There," he declared. Leaning in, he softly kissed the top of your head. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," you sighed.

Primo gave a satisfied hum and briefly stepped away from your presence to cleanse his hands of the lingering ointment. Granted, it had proven advantageous for him and the ageing joints in his fingers too. The two of you were swiftly reunited, and he passed you an additional pillow.

“Lie on your side and put a pillow between your knees; you will find that your pain will not be nearly as intense come morning.”

“Thank you, Primo.”

"Now, let us get some rest."

Repositioning for added comfort following Primo's suggestion to place a pillow between your legs, he dimmed the nearby lamp, creating a gentle and welcoming glow.

The conversation gradually faded, replaced by the rhythmic sounds of deep, steady breaths as sleep began to claim you both. The room became a haven of tranquillity, a sanctuary where the weight of the world lifted, if only for a little while.

You never wanted to leave.

[lucy90712]

Bad luck charm- Pedri

February 16th 2023 

41' Pedri replaced by sergi Roberto.

Pedri picks up an injury, he is out and his recovery will determine his return.

May 14th 2023 

Pedri ruled out for the rest of the season with discomfort.

August 23rd 2023

Pedri picks up an injury in training, he is out and his recovery will determine his return.

December 17th 2023 

Pedri picks up an injury, he is out and his recovery will determine his return.

March 3rd 2024

It's happened again. I can't believe it. Seeing him laying on the floor clearly in pain just broke me. He's not long come back from his last injury and it looks like he's injured again. What makes it all so much worse is that I'm here again it just seems that every time I can make it to a match Pedri gets hurt. I can't watch many matches because I'm either in classes or working and Pedri gets that in fact he says it makes it more exciting when I can make it to a game. As much as he gets excited I've come to fear going to matches as I'm sure I bring the team bad luck if it's not a injury for Pedri then it's a big loss for the team it just seems that something always goes wrong when I'm there. 

Watching Pedri limp off the pitch tears in his eyes made me wonder if this is all worth it. I love watching him play in person instead of on a screen but maybe that's the best way forward especially if it means he stays fit and the team does well. At this point I'm just hurting everyone I'm hurting Pedri and myself because I suffer too when he's out injured for weeks because he just isn't himself in that time. The more times this injury occurs the more upset Pedri is each time which in turn makes me feel awful because I just want him to be happy and do what he loves so maybe it's time that I finally admit to myself that I'm the problem to save us both more unnecessary pain.

I had to sit in my seat for the rest of the match which felt so cruel but eventually the match ended and I was able to get up from my seat and head down the tunnel to find Pedri. To start with security were hesitant to let me in but eventually they accepted that my pass was real when I was able to get Gavi to FaceTime me to prove we knew each other. I've never had such a struggle getting past security before but I guess that really just sums up today and probably my luck at matches in general. Finally I made it through but by the time I did all the players had already gone in the locker room so I just had to stand outside and wait but I did send a text to Pedri first telling him I was there whenever he was ready. 

It wasn't long before a red and puffy eyed Pedri limped his way out of the locker room looking at the floor refusing to meet my eyes. Still he came straight over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist burying his head in my shoulder. Of course I've seen Pedri upset before but this is the most upset I've seen him about football; he goes silent and doesn't like to let go of me when he's really sad and thats exactly how he is now. It hurts so much seeing him so distraught at being injured again, he's been working so hard to not only recover but stop himself from getting injured and and clearly he feels like none of it was worth it. As much as I want to tell him it's not his fault and that I'm just bad luck now isn't the time he needs my support and that's what I'll give him. 

Originally the plan was for me to get on the last flight back to Barcelona this evening and land when Pedri would be able to pick me up after leaving the training centre but plans have changed. Pedri didn't want me to leave so he asked maybe begged to bring me on the flight back with the team and the people with the club couldn't say no especially seeing how distraught he was. As much as I wanted to I couldn't be by his side the entire time as I had to board the flight first with all the team staff but luckily they allowed me to sit with Pedri so I took my seat and just had to wait. Realistically it wasn't that long before he arrived but it sure felt like forever until I saw him coming down the aisle of the plane looking mostly at the ground. 

He sat down next to me and rested his head on my shoulder as he began crying again. I moved so that his head rested on my chest which allowed me to hold him closer while running my hand through his hair as that usually calms him down a bit. After we took off some of the boys tried coming over to comfort Pedri or just see how he was doing but he didn't want to talk he just made a few noises or made me talk for him. Eventually everyone left us alone but that didn't really make things any better Pedri was still upset and I was left alone with my own thoughts. 

"Everything will be ok you know that right" I said to help comfort Pedri and quieten down my own thoughts in my head 

"Will it though I'm injured again what if it's another relapse then everything I've done to prevent it has been a waste of time" Pedri sniffled 

"Don't say that for one we don't know what is wrong yet it may not be a relapse and two all of the changes you have made will benefit you in years to come when you are still playing at 35" I said 

"I'm not going to be playing then" he said 

"Why not if you keep doing what your doing the injuries will get better and you can play for many more years" I said 

"I know it's tough right now but you need to stay positive feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to make you any better I want to see the extremely motivated Pedri I saw during your last injury" I added 

"You're right but it is really difficult especially after I've had so many injuries" he said 

"I know how about you get out all your emotions tonight then tomorrows a new day so we can both be extra positive" I said 

He offered me a small smile before burying his head again. I can see that he's broken inside which only makes me feel worse. How can I possibly bring such suffering to the person I love the most. Once Pedri fell asleep in my arms I let out a few tears of my own because I just feel so bad that he has to go through this all again just because I actually attended a match.

~~~~~~~~~~

After yesterday I decided to work from home today so I could be there when Pedri came back from getting his medical tests done. Even if the prognosis is better than we first thought I still want to be here for him to either comfort him or celebrate the little win. Working from home is supposed to involve working but I've done very few productive tasks as I've only been thinking about Pedri. I can't get the image of his face with his red eyes from crying out my head I've never seen him so broken and fragile and I don't think I could handle seeing it again so I definitely need to tell him that I can't come to games anymore. 

3 long agonising hours later I got a text from Pedri telling me he was on his way back home. I tried focusing on work but quickly gave up and decided I'd prepare a snack for both of us, it was nothing complicated but it kept my mind occupied. Luckily it all took me long enough that by the time I was done I heard Pedri's car pulling into the driveway. I didn't want to seem too eager so I stayed in the kitchen and made myself look busy until Pedri announced his presence and came to join me. He had a smile on his face which was such a relief but I still wanted to hear exactly what had gone on.

"Come on tell me what happened" I said 

"The injury isn't as bad as we first thought and it's not a relapse it's a new injury so I shouldn't be out for as long" he said 

"Thats great I'm so happy for you" I said giving him a hug 

"It's such a relief it's not good being out again but it doesn't feel quite as bad knowing that it's not the same injury again" he said 

"Yeah that is a relief" I said 

"Is everything ok with you?" He asked 

"Yeah yeah I'm fine I do need to get back to work though" I said giving him a quick kiss 

It's not often I work from home as I never get as much done and it's harder to manage my team from home but sometimes it's nice to be a bit more comfortable. Whenever I do work from home Pedri always leaves me be only coming into my office to bring me water or food but today he came in just a few minutes after I had got settled and sat on the little armchair I have in the corner of the room. As I worked he gradually pulled the chair closer until he was sat right next to my desk watching me as I worked. Don't get me wrong it was nice to have his company but he never does this so I was a bit confused as to why he was being so clingy all of a sudden. I kept trying to focus but whenever I did anything Pedri would lean in to press a kiss to my cheek which took away all my concentration. 

I tried to hard to keep working but I was just so distracted that I stopped what I was doing and turned to face Pedri to see if he would tell me why he was being so clingy. Instead of doing that he grabbed my face and gave me a kiss which I thought might be what he wanted but then he gave me another one and then another until I stopped him. 

"What has got into you" I laughed 

"I just want to spend time with my girlfriend and give her lots of love" he said 

"That's not the only reason is it, what's on your mind?" I asked

"I want to know what's on your mind I know there's something you aren't telling me and you know I can't help unless you tell me" he said 

"It's sounds stupid but I think I'm a bad luck charm every time I go to watch you play in person something bad happens either you get injured or the team loses and every time it's so upsetting so I just think I shouldn't go to matches anymore" I explained 

"Do you really blame yourself?" He asked 

"Well yeah bad things only happen when I'm there I know you guys lose when I'm not but things always seem worse when I go" I said 

"That's just a coincidence there's games you've been to that we won like when we won the league you were there that day and you came to watch when we won the super copa it's not you it's just been a rough time recently but I promise it's not you" he said 

"Maybe until things are better I shouldn't go to matches I don't want everyone to start resenting me because I'm making things worse" I said 

"No one is going to hate you we aren't having the best season but that's not your fault ok and I need you there having you at matches motivates me to play even better" he said 

"Are you sure?" I questioned

"Of course even if you are a bad luck charm which you aren't you are my bad luck charm and I'd bring you everywhere if I could because I just like having you with me" he said giving me a kiss which made me feel so much better

[eviesaurusrex]

ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇꜱ, ᴘᴛ. 1 | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

GIF not mine!

Stephen Strange x Avenger!Reader

ask: Could you write a Stephen Strange x reader one shot (or longer if you feel it haha) where the reader is an avenger and she’s secretly dating Stephen? Like they’re sneaking around and staying at each other’s places (sanctum and tower/compound) and use portals in the mornings to get back where they’re supposed to be. Maybe a close call where Stephen literally kicks her off the bed and into a portal back to her own bed to avoid getting caught. Then later they’re found out somehow by tony/the team?

word count: 5.2k (and that's only part one, ooooooops)

warnings: fluff and more fluff, cursing, sneaking around the team, lying, one suggestive and kinda steamy (but short) scene

author’s note: I’m so excited about this ask! This will get a part 2 because I couldn’t contain myself, and I had to write this out with all the background stuff. I really hope you like how it went so far @clockblobber!

»pt. 2 is here«

Tiredness was settled deep within her bones, and every single muscle inside her body ached at the sheer thought of moving again. But YN felt the soft rumbling of the Quinjet’s engines increasing while the autopilot initiated the landing sequence to softly touch the ground again. The almost fifteen-hour flight in uncomfortable seats would be stuck to her for another few hours, if not days; she was sure of it. The mission may have been a success – taking down a cartel of experimental drug smugglers, with a side income through even more experimental weapons which were supposed to be destroyed alongside Hydra, had been easier than thought – but her body still was sore and covered in bruises, scratches, and beautifully blooming hematomas.

Guess a rib or two got a hit as well, the Widow thought while softly rubbing her right side.

Gladly, she wasn’t the only one beaten up, but unlike Steve and Bucky, she didn’t own the ability to self-heal within hours. Sometimes, she really envied them down to her very core. But now, she was too tired to even start feeling the jealousy about the super soldier serum running through their veins. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely without an asset she had gained through otherworldly substances – not drugs – but those were hard to control sometimes, which was why the Widow often fully relied on her brutal training and skills in hand-to-hand combat.

One look in the direction of Nat, and she knew that her sister wasn’t very fond of her approach to the last situation. But hey, a woman gotta do what a woman gotta do. Easy as that.

As soon as the jet finally touched the ground, YN unbuckled the seatbelt and pushed herself up with a groan. The pain shot right through her body again and reminded her of the inevitable reality of upcoming days full of soreness. Assessing the level of pain and discomfort, she estimated two weeks tops. With a hot bath here and there, maybe less.

The thought of one of these alone made her almost moan in pure bliss. But, of course, the compound didn’t own such luxury known as a bathtub. God damn you, Tony.

With clenched teeth and jaw, the woman hobbled out of the Quinjet as soon as the ramp was lowered and granted a breeze of fresh air to invade the warm insides and cool her cheeks. Maybe a cold shower would suffice for now. But the woman didn’t come far before Steve’s voice dragged over the small tarmac in front of the newly built compound in Upstate New York.

“We need to debrief, and I need your report plus a medical evaluation of your status, YN,” the blonde soldier spoke up, always the authoritative fun brake (he wasn’t, but she was grumpy and needed a shower and some comfort in the form of her soft blankets and pillows). Without answering for now because she had her phone in hand to type a quick text, she raised the other hand and showed Steve the finger. Her body became used to the throbbing pain in every single limp again, and the Widow could walk a bit faster to get away from the now overbearing man she called one of her best friends.

“YN, I mean it. You’re not dismissed until you went to the medical wing and got checked out.” She could hear his heavy steps, and even though she still showed him the finger, she spoke. “Whatever, Steve. I need a shower and my soft bed, and I’m good to go, thank you very fucking much. See you tomorrow morning with that damn report in hand, bye.” Usually, she wasn’t this rude to him, and that pushed him to stop in his tracks.

Before scurrying inside the compound, she could hear the other’s talk.

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve.

“Nah, she is just grumpy because I stole her that one guy she loved to punch in the face.” Bucky.

“The one that laughed because she is a woman? Well, you fucked up good, Barnes. She really loves to take those down herself.” Nat.

An apology was necessary, she knew that, but… later. Her mind was too tired to do it now, so she just walked to her room, always close to one of the walls – just in case. With a heavy sigh leaving her lips, she pushed open the door to her cozy room and let the duffel bag fall straight to the floor before pushing herself to walk the last few steps, so she could fall face down first onto the soft mattress.

Which wasn’t the best idea she had had all day, and a strained groan escaped her lips at the same moment as the soft sounds of an opening portal filled her room. She barely realized it. She didn’t even move as steps started to come closer. She didn’t move a single muscle until the mattress dipped at the weight of another body settling upon it. Slowly, YN moved her head from the face-down position to the side to eye the man with the pepper and salt hair. He already looked down at her, forehead wrinkled and the all too familiar deep creases between his dark brows visible.

“Hey,” the woman spoke, barely above a whisper, and she closed her eyes soon again as one of his warm, big hands came close to her face to brush over her cheek and push a lock behind her ear. “Rough day?” She nodded but stopped suddenly at the ugly feeling of raw skin rubbing against the fabric of her comforter. Eyebrows furrowed, and a hiss escaped her. But Stephen was prepared – just as he always was. “Come on, love,” he mumbled in the softest of tones. “We’ll get you a nice hot bath ready, a cup of tea, and some snacks, while I stitch you up.”

With that, the previous portal opened again, illuminated the room in its soft golden light, and Stephen helped the tired woman up from her bed. He held both her hands and pulled her up onto her feet, steadying her with his arm around her slender waist. He could imagine what happened during that mission in Seoul, her state not an uncommon sight for his eyes but hard on him nevertheless. It was easy for him to get scratches and be beaten up – he didn’t mind that – but seeing her in that constitution was something entirely different. And this side was a side no one knew about – and no one would ever get an insight about.

Looking up to Stephen, she allowed him to scoop her into his arms and circled both her arms around his neck while pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek. “You are a godsend,” YN whispered against his skin, the tip of her nose caressing his skin in a feathery touch. The doctor smiled the one smile that was entirely reserved for her eyes and only hers. “Not an idiotic and presumptuous asshole anymore?” He had to tease her with the statement that the Widow had smacked him with the second time they had met. A forceless hit with the flat hand against his shoulder was the first reaction he got. “Thought we already had put that in our past. It was a miscalculation. An assumption made upon false input and intel.”

Stephen chuckled while stepping over the threshold of his portal, right into his bedroom in the Sanctum Sanctorum, the busy New Yorker streets underneath the big windows. He didn’t spare a glance at the golden streets out there, glowing in the light of the setting sun. Instead, he carried the woman in his arms straight into the adjacent bathroom with the bathtub she craved the most. “I just love teasing you, darling,” the sorcerer grinned while gently putting YN down on the bathtub’s edge, and with a flick of his hand, the two faucets opened and unleashed the water.

Soon the bathroom was not only filled with the soothing sound of splashing water but with the wafting steam and the smell of her most favorite bath bomb as well. In the meantime, Stephen had organized the promised tea and snacks – consisting of cheese, crackers, and strawberries – while preparing the first aid kit for the small surgery he would perform on the most severe cuts that needed some stitching. As she attempted to step into the waiting hot water to let her bones and muscles soak in the well-deserved break, the phone in the back pocket of her combat gear pants, that pooled in the center of the bathroom, started to ring. The sorcerer was quick to peel it out and hand it to his girlfriend, not daring to accept the call or send it straight to the voicemail like he would’ve preferred.

With a sigh, YN accepted the call; a fluffy towel wrapped around her naked body, and she could see the hits that had attacked her visibly on her skin through the full-length mirror opposite her. “What?” That was all she asked the unwanted caller – who needs a greeting, right?

Shuffling was heard on the other side of the call, and YN cocked an eyebrow as whispered voices pushed to her ear. She took a look at the caller ID and didn’t get it. “Whoever thought it would be the greatest freaking idea to call me can go and fuck themself. I just want some peace and quiet, for fucks sake. Is that too much to ask?” YN was pissed to an extent she hadn’t felt in a long time. Another round of shuffling until Thor’s voice spoke up. “Lady YN, this is Thor, God of Thunder.” Facepalming herself, the woman sent Stephen a helpless look. “You don’t need to introduce yourself, Thor. I know who you are. This is a call, not a formal application for a new job.” What, in the name of the universe, had she done in her past life to be graced with this group of insufferable people? She loved them dearly, but sometimes they were just too exhausting for her poor soul. “Yes, of course, Lady YN. Mr. Stark had specifically asked me to start this conversation in order to learn about the nature of your whereabouts.”

Groaning, she hit the edge of the full tub with her fist. “Stop being such a child and talk for yourself, Tony,” she demanded. “Can’t. Have to find your location.” Eye rolling, YN knew that he knew that she had never touched one of his phones and had made sure that her location wouldn’t be found by any of them. Not even the genius that was Tony Stark. “Yeah, whatever. Good luck with that. You lot could’ve just, I don’t know, asked if I’m alright wherever I am and put it aside because I’m a fucking grown woman. Gosh.” Stephen chuckled softly at her outburst while preparing the needle for the stitches. “Plus, it was never my idea to call. Ask our ancient ice sculpture who had the idea to check up on you and found your room empty and throwing a tantrum about it,” Tony added, and YN softly smiled as the sorcerer knelt in front of her on the plush bathroom matt to take a closer look on the gush near her left wrist. “For fucks sake, Steve. Remember when I told you that your overbearing nature isn’t cool? It wasn’t a joke; I meant it!” Her face twisted at the sudden burn under her skin, and saw the drenched cotton pad, Stephen softly dapped over the wound to clean the dried blood off. “I’m sorry, YNN. Really, I am. But you took some pretty hard hits, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You are okay, are you?”

Sighing again, YN leaned her head against Stephen’s shoulder. “I am. And now I have to go.” – “Wait, YN, where are yo-…” – “Byyyyye!”

And with that, she hung up and threw the phone back on the dirty pile of combat gear. “They’re getting suspicious?” She shrugged at his question and let him take the fluffy towel away from her, so she could finally sink into the hot water. “I don’t know what’s going on in their brains. And I don’t want to think about it.” With closed eyes, YN leaned back in the tub, softly moaning as she felt how every single muscle relaxed. “I’m almost tempted to believe that you only agreed to date me because of my bathtub,” the man chuckled while sitting on the edge and starting to stitch her arm.

In moments like these, he used that bit of magic he needed to steady his hands, but it was the only exception he made. “You don’t have to do it, y’know? I can easily head to the med bay,” YN mumbled after Stephen had finished his task of taking care of her, and he bent down to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself, darling. It’s my pleasure.”

He wanted to leave to pack the first aid kit back at its usual spot, but her fingers intertwining with his made him pause. One look at her pleading eyes, and the man was lost, his mental to-do list burned to ashes at her feet. “Can you get in? I’d love some cuddles.” It was a shyly asked question, as usual, but just as usual, he started to undress even before he nodded. “Whatever you need, darling,” he whispered after settling behind the woman in the still hot water – her body between his long legs, her back pressed against his chest, arms entangled underwater, and her face nestled in the crook of his neck.

Her deep breaths and soft skin against his were all he ever needed after days of her presence gone due to missions or his own duties, and Stephen craved those few stolen moments in a world where nobody knew about them.

;

Morning came too soon, and YN dragged herself out of the comfort of the warm bed to gather her belongings in order to make a move as soon as Stephen was awake enough to conjure the portal into her bedroom. She just left the bathroom, the pile of combat gear now over her arms, as Stephen yawned and felt around on the other side of the bed where she had laid only minutes ago. The sorcerer wasn’t a deep sleeper, but she was a Widow, trained in the arts of stealth, so it was an easy task to sneak out without waking him up. But even after more than a year of dating, he seemed not to be used to it because at the feeling of nothingness next to him, Stephen sat up abruptly and frantically started looking through the room. His mouth opened to call her name, heart racing in his chest, until his gaze settled upon the woman, only clad in one of his shirts that reached her mid-thighs.

She smiled, combat gear already dropped to the floor, to walk over to him. YN stood next to his bedside, both hands cupping his jawline while her thumb soothingly caressed his cheek, while she pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, the feeling of his goatee present on her lips. She could practically feel how he relaxed at her touch and leaned into it, reminding her again that Stephen was as touch starved as she was. It wasn’t a real turn-on for folks if she talked about the abusive past she had to endure in order to become her strongest self. But hey, those foolish boys were nothing in comparison to the man in front of her.

“Bad dream?” She softly asked before pecking the tip of his nose with a soft, feathery kiss. The sorcerer shrugged nonchalantly, but he couldn’t fool her – and he knew that. Sighing, Stephen pulled her back into the bed, holding her close, and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. “I just don’t want to let you go again. Didn’t see you in four days.” It was a mumble, but YN could hear every single word and felt his lips moving against her collarbone. Slowly, she started to play with his hair – just the way he liked it – and scratched his scalp. “Caution, my love, or I could be tempted to think you’re touch starved and crave my presence.”

Stephen scoffed and pushed himself up with one arm to look into her eyes. “You know how it is, darling.” It was only a mumble because even though they opened up to one another like they never did before, Stephen was still wary if it wouldn’t bite his ass. But so far, the amazing woman underneath him never let him feel any doubts. She smiled softly up at him and pulled him in for a soft kiss. “I’m not sure if they’re ready. You know how they are. You know what Tony will say, something about not fraternizing with colleagues and all that bullshit, and you know that Steve will give you a hard time – shit, he would even give me a hard time about it.” The prospect of trouble in paradise alone made her nauseous. They constantly bickered, true, but it was all fun and smiles. With something like that, on the other hand… Stephen knew how it went.

“At least stay for a few more minutes?” He almost begged, something he would never admit, not even under torture, but YN kissed him gently and shook her head. “Need to write that damn report and get a going to the med bay if I don’t wanna get benched.” With that, the sorcerer released the Widow out of his grasp and opened the portal into her own bedroom. He stood on his side while YN scurried over onto her side but turned around to kiss him goodbye properly. “See you for dinner?” Stephen smiled down at her, nodded, and kissed her forehead. “Chow House?” Moaning, YN pulled him in for another kiss. “I know why I love you,” she grinned, and then she waved with a smile as the portal closed again, and she was back in her cozy room, the duffel bag now lying on top of the cushioned bench in front of her bed – its usual spot. Shaking her head, she made a mental note to thank Steve for it later that day.

;

Sitting at the huge glass table in one of the conference rooms inside the compound, YN listened intently to what Fury said over the video call, scribbling away notes inside that little notebook she always carried around for such occasions. She could feel a lingering stare settled upon her, and barely noticeable, she raised her gaze to catch Stephen staring at her over the cup of coffee he held between his softly shaking hands. A smile tried to tuck at her lips, but instead, she rolled her eyes as if he was as irritating as the uncomfortable seat she had sat on ever since the briefing started.

“Do I bore you, Miss LN?” Fury’s tone sounded bored himself, and YN showed him a pair of raised eyebrows. “No, sir. I’m just writing down what you’re saying. For later purposes.” Sam coughed and mumbled “Boaster” between his acts, and YN threw her eraser against his head. “Hey!” She smiled the sweetest of smiles and flipped him off. “I’m not deaf, Wilson.” Bucky chuckled behind his mug while Steve and Nat rolled their eyes, and Fury sighed exaggeratedly. “Behave, children,” he grumbled before continuing with the briefing about a new mission in Switzerland.

A half an hour later, the briefed team scattered over the compound after they had left the conference room, and YN found her way into the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled ever since she woke up to an empty bed because Stephen had to leave to get ready for said briefing.

On some days, it was exhausting to sneak around everyone, but it had its purpose. So far, they never had a close call, for which YN was more than grateful.

Softly humming, she rummaged in the fridge before moving to the cupboards after she decided that tea was more to her taste than one of the smoothies Pepper hoarded in one of the many fridges.

Suddenly, big familiar hands grabbed her jeans-clad hips and turned her around in one swift motion. Looking up, her eyes met the bluest ones of them all, and a smile etched itself on her face before she took a measured look to the entrance. After she gave herself an all-clear, YN pulled Stephen down to her level while pushing herself on her tiptoes and kissed him – hard and hungrily because the couple couldn’t stop showing their deep lingering affection for one another as often as possible, which was not often enough.

Labored breaths and lips crashing against one another were the only sounds in the kitchen – or the entire compound wing – and Stephen wrapped the woman tighter in his arms, pulling her closer and closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. His hands moved more south to grab the Widow under her thighs, long fingers stretching up to her butt cheeks, and he lifted her with astonishing ease up on the countertop. Settling there, YN wrapped her legs around his waist, crossed her ankles at his deliciously shaped behind, and burrowed her fingers inside his dark hair. The kiss grew more heated with every passing second, and a soft gasp escaped her mouth as Stephen pressed her lower region harder against him.

“I really hope you’re not thinking about canceling our dinner plans for tonight,” YN whisper-moaned at the friction between her legs and bit his lower lip gently. Stephen groaned at the sensation pulsing through his body – he still wondered how this woman was able to pull every trigger there was with nothing more than just a whisper of a touch – and kissed her again. “Why should I? I can’t wait for dessert. Maybe we should do dessert first, like responsible citizens,” he rasped, the raspiness in his voice always a trigger for her own pleasure. Gladly, Stephen didn’t know just yet how hot it made her hear him like that. If this man would ever gain the knowledge about that – it would be her downfall. Grinning, YN pulled away from his searching lips, teasing him. “Sounds like a plan, Doctor Strange.”

But before they could dive right back into the next heated kiss and continue this make-out session, approaching steps alarmed the Widow. With ease, she slid off the counter within seconds and positioned herself at the counter closer to the door before raising her voice.

“Oh, please. Stop prancing around and try to prove that you’re the smartest one. I can’t keep up with the bullshit coming out of that entitled mouth of yours. I have better things to do.”

Tony and Steve entered the kitchen, followed by a tired Clint, who clung to a mug of steaming coffee. The Stark was fast to assess the situation, and an icy expression settled on his face. “Is he annoying you again, YNN? I can do something about that, you just need to use the words.” Steve had his blonde brows furrowed and stared Stephen into the ground, but the sorcerer only shrugged and stole the tea she had finished preparing. “A simple conversation, that’s all. Keep your panties on, Stark, and thanks for the tea, LN.”

With that, the tall man walked past the group, mug in hand, and YN stared after him, mouth agape. “Hey, that was my tea, you tea stealing, obnoxious imbecile!”

Which meant in their secret language, I love you, idiot.

Steve turned towards her and shrugged. “Tell us, and we end him,” he offered, but all she did was roll her eyes and start to prepare another cup of tea while suppressing her heart from beating out of line.

That was a close call.

;

The soft tunes of the Best of Beethoven vinyl she had found in Stephen’s office echoed through the foyer of the Sanctum Sanctorum on a summer evening. The windows on the upper floor were open widely to let in the soft breeze from outside without getting the chills, and YN worked mindlessly in the perfectly stocked kitchen.

It wasn’t like that shortly after she had sat foot in the room supposed to feed hungry human beings. Instead, barely filled shelves and a half-empty fridge had greeted her, which was why many New Yorkers had seen a true Avenger walking their streets in a pretty summer dress – a sight none of them would have expected on this beautiful day or any days at all. But she didn’t mind the round eyes of kids and teenagers. The ogling stares of the male part of the grownup fraction were what put her on edge. But even them she could handle with closed eyes.

After a shopping spree in the grocery store down the block, YN had started to prepare dinner. It wasn’t often that she found the time and muse to cook, but when she did, she went all out because she wasn’t bad at it. Actually, she was quite good at the stove, even though she preferred baking over everything else.

The tune changed to Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61 – one of her favorites, even though the Red Room had forced her to start playing the violin – at the same time as the golden glow of a portal crept around the corner of the kitchen’s entrance. She just chopped the vegetables into the thinnest of slices as the soft but heavy feeling of fabric settled over her shoulders, and a red collar nudged her left cheek to get her attention.

“Well, hello to you too, Cloaky,” she greeted the magical relic, which resembled more a dog or cat than an ancient thing, with a smile. Soon after the first greeting, a set of arms wrapped around her, and a chin was planted on her shoulder. “Do I want to know how you got in?” Stephen asked, the grin audible in his voice. YN shrugged while chopping the rest. “Wong didn’t see me if that’s what you tried to find out.” Sometimes, her burglar skills were pretty useful, plus the building liked her – or Stephen had altered the spells that protected the Sanctum, but she liked the idea of a feeling and thinking building more.

“So, you thought instead of enjoying your first time off missions in the last couple of weeks, you break into the Sanctum to cook me dinner?” At her exciting nod, Stephen laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her temple. Cloaky settled onto her shoulders definitively – Stephen knew that it would stay there for quite some time now, but he couldn’t object because it was what he would do too – and instead, tried to help her, but YN hit his fingers. “Nope. You’re gonna take a hot, long shower to destress from whatever threat it was today you had to deal with, and after that, you’ll settle on that bar stool over there, drink a glass of whiskey and just look pretty and handsome while I wrap up dinner.” He would never admit it, but he loved it when she tried to boss him around. It was so different from the life she had lived before joining the Avengers and escaping the grasp of the Red Room, so it was his pleasure to let her boss around to her heart's desire. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else, ma’am?” She grinned up at him. “A kiss would be absolutely lovely.”

Stephen complied and bent down to taste her sweet, perfect lips, but Cloaky suddenly had other plans and pulled her onto the wooden floor. “What the…?” Both started, but Wong’s voice let her suck in the last word and hold her breath. The red cloak pulled her further to the kitchen island to hide her body against the wood and wrapped itself around the woman it was so fond of.

“Something smells divine.” Wong stopped at the frame between the kitchen and one of the many living rooms to eye Stephen. “You are cooking? Since when is this a possibility?” Stephen looked from the stove to Wong, back to the chopped vegetables and the casserole where YN had started to place the thin slices in an intricate pattern. “Yeah…” The sorcerer began and shrugged. “I saw something on my way home and thought it looked quite delicious.” Wong squinted his eyes suspiciously at the other sorcerer. “Aha.” YN on the floor really wanted to facepalm herself. “Well, let me know when the food is ready. I want to try it. I’m in the library upstairs.” And Wong disappeared as suddenly as he arrived.

Sitting up, YN patted the proudly moving cloak and shook her head. “Next time, you won’t drag me down to the floor, understood? That hurt.” Stephen helped her up and took Cloaky from her shoulders, and sent him up into his bedroom. “Another close call,” the man objected, and YN sighed. “I know, but I don’t know why we’re running out of luck all of a sudden. We were so good.” It didn’t sit right with her, and the realization that maybe, sooner rather than later, they need to come clean with everyone.

Stephen softly kissed her head and pushed a lock out of her face, tracing her jawline from her ear back down to her chin. He took it between his fingers, pointer finger underneath it to softly nudge it up, so she would look at him. “Whatever will happen, nothing is worse than being stuck in a fake octopus, smelling like plastic and trash, darling.” Eye rolling, the woman shoved against his chest. “Never remind me of that ever again. I had to soak for hours on end in that bathtub to get the smell off my skin.” Stephen smiled but cocked an eyebrow to see her nodding. And she did. “Okay, yeah. It won’t be the end of days if they knew, but… I don’t know how to tell them. Could we take some more time? Just a little while longer?”

Stephen could never deny her a single request, so he approved with another nod and kissed her softly on the lips. “Of course, love. But now you have to move your sexy bottom because Wong demanded food. I’m gonna take a quick shower and be right back.” With that, Stephen kissed her one last time and stepped through the portal – lazy sock – and YN continued with the veggy pattern inside her prepared casserole until an all too familiar voice startled her.

“I knew it!”

With wide eyes, the former assassin turned around to look straight into the very pleased face of non-other than Wong, and a curse fell off her lips.

One for them, minus one for us, she thought while explaining to the sorcerer how she came up with her altered receipt for Ratatouille.

Thank you so much for reading! As usual, comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated! <3

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[watermelonlovershigh]

Harry Soothes Your Period Cramps with His Large, Warm Hands /concept/

AN: i'm having bad cramps this month so i wrote this.

This story contains: mentions of the h word, period cramp pain, fluff

{ husband!harry - softrry - any harry era }

word count: 527

You accidently wake Harry up from his sleep when you place his hand on your tummy to help with your period cramps and he then helps comfort you in your time of discomfort.

"Mhm," Harry grunts in his sleep as he feels something push against his body. What he feels is you trying to cuddle deeper into his chest as he's laid facing you on his left side. See, you woke up to painful period cramps and are now trying to seek the comfort and warmth you know your husband has.

One comforting thing that you know helps your cramps are Harry's large, warm hands. So as you nuzzle your face further into his bare chest, you reach between your two bodies and fumble around until you find one of his limp hands that's resting against the mattress. Once found, you slowly bring his hand under your night shirt and press his palm flat to your lower belly. This officially awakes Harry from his slumber.

"What'd you doin', love? Feelin' a bit horny?" he whispers in his groggy sleep voice with his eyes still closed, too tired to even open them up. Harry presumed you're trying to shove his hand down your panties from how low you have his hand positioned. Which has happened before.

Shaking your head from side to side against his chest, you answer quietly, "Nah-ah, cramping, H. Your hand is warm and it helps with my cramps." Your confession has Harry more awake and alert even though it's only four in the morning.

He flutters his eyes open to the dark of the room and coos back softly, "Aw, m'sorry, baby. Do you need me to get you some pain medicine or a cup of tea?" God you love your husband. He's the most carrying soul you've ever met and would do anything to make sure you're happy and healthy at all times.

Lifting your head from his cozy chest, you lean up to peck Harry's cheek, the one that's not smushed into the mattress and respond, "No, babe. I took an ibuprofen in the bathroom about twenty minutes ago when I went to change pads. So that should be kicking in soon. Just want you to hold me, please. And keep your hand on my tummy."

Turning his head slightly to catch your lips with his lips, he kisses you gently before muttering, "'Course, m'love. Turn 'round f'me so I can spoon you. That way it'll be easier to keep my hand on your belly and f'me to hold you." You do as told and flip over to your left side, now facing away from Harry.

Harry scoots closer to your back and wraps his arms securely around your body. Then with the arm draped over your hip, he takes that hand and slips it under your t-shirt, settling it right over where he knows your cramps are coming from. "There we go. All better?"

"Yeah Harry, love you." you say back with sleep taking over your mind. You'd been awake for about an hour dealing with your period and period cramps, but now that the medicine is starting to work and his warm hand is helping soothe the cramps, you're becoming very sleepy.

"Love you too, baby. Wake me if you need anythin' else." Harry lastly says before he falls back into his slumber.

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