#did these over a month ago whoops

[vamp-bites]

Scott pilgrim takes off screenshot redraws that i forgot to post

[spooksicl-e]

hello victorian!holmes nation

edit: happy public domain day!!!! husbands!!!!!!!!

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything. 

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights. 

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to. 

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore. 

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you. 

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back. 

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three. 

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed. 

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything. 

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up. 

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you. 

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans. 

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him. 

not that it mattered now. 

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip. 

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry. 

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away. 

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else. 

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left. 

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer. 

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up. 

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity. 

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from. 

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples. 

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone. 

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged. 

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies. 

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle. 

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak. 

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife. 

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long. 

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you. 

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it. 

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features. 

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show. 

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk). 

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.” 

the truth. 

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up. 

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were. 

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms. 

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms. 

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position. 

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.” 

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind. 

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy. 

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him. 

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position. 

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door. 

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway. 

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected. 

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered. 

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury. 

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.” 

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside. 

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating. 

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen. 

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate. 

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such? 

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you. 

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement. 

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away. 

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking. 

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless. 

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite. 

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic. 

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.” 

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind. 

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly. 

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this. 

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it. 

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you. 

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around. 

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile. 

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response. 

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!” 

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.” 

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families. 

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch. 

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other. 

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh. 

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you. 

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature. 

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded. 

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance. 

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl. 

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions. 

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls. 

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat. 

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you. 

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him. 

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress. 

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down. 

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead. 

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other. 

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo. 

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased. 

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation. 

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.” 

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either. 

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables. 

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words. 

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.” 

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it. 

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck. 

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you. 

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so. 

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him. 

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door. 

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else. 

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door. 

you didn’t answer, still, waiting. 

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door. 

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit. 

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table. 

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing. 

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day. 

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy. 

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time. 

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned. 

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down. 

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks. 

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet. 

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you. 

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis. 

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders. 

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing. 

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window. 

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw. 

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance. 

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her. 

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had. 

“are you alright?” 

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being. 

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either. 

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you. 

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.” 

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you. 

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.” 

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable. 

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three. 

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure. 

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back. 

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man. 

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.  

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint. 

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks. 

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.” 

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self. 

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you. 

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint. 

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw. 

“what do you mean?” 

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin. 

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?” 

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form. 

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing. 

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.” 

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement. 

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks. 

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.” 

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words. 

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you. 

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations. 

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face,  twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-” 

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull. 

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-” 

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.” 

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones. 

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago. 

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.” 

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it. 

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face. 

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself. 

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.” 

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters. 

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided. 

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours. 

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined. 

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love. 

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness. 

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you. 

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder. 

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again. 

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin. 

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name. 

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could. 

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them. 

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did. 

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one. 

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours. 

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago. 

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it. 

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips. 

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move. 

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give. 

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch. 

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin. 

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face. 

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him. 

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down. 

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this. 

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you. 

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping. 

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most. 

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.” 

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye. 

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck. 

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be. 

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall. 

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response. 

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more. 

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more. 

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit. 

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision. 

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo. 

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over. 

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces. 

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest. 

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?” 

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you. 

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.” 

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you. 

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that. 

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?” 

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face. 

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs. 

“and then?” 

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.” 

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking. 

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain. 

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves. 

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different. 

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control. 

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny. 

All the time. 

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too. 

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful. 

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found. 

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought. 

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating. 

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else. 

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on. 

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second. 

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror. 

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.  

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.” 

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?” 

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss. 

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.” 

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion. 

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. 

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat. 

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor. 

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds. 

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips. 

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure. 

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you. 

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips. 

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core. 

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom. 

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure. 

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished. 

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours. 

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease. 

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”  

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours. 

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.” 

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.” 

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach. 

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you. 

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck-  fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left. 

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment. 

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.” 

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“ 

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth. 

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest. 

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question. 

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”   

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.” 

“Hmmm? What did you say?” 

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.” 

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point. 

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked. 

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?” 

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-” 

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.” 

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head. 

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.” 

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?” 

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.” 

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off. 

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill. 

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly. 

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch. 

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half. 

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back. 

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier. 

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.” 

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

“What’s inside this box?” 

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!” 

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?” 

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!” 

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. 

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch. 

2:07 A.M. 

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state. 

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!” 

Oh shit.  

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out. 

And that number was a big, fat zero. 

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once. 

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you- 

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet. 

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. 

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him. 

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response. 

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth. 

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.” 

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state. 

“W-what?” 

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.” 

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure. 

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him. 

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?” 

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest. 

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction. 

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that? 

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -” 

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry. 

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality. 

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.” 

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-” 

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat. 

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.” 

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears. 

“I love you so much, Frankie.” 

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.” 

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet. 

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.” 

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family. 

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

 As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace. 

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up. 

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.” 

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you. 

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.” 

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…” 

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss. 

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

Taglist:

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[aemondsbabe]

Gevie

summary: you finally agree to go for a ride on sunfyre and your betrothed certainly makes it worth your while

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, aegon being sickeningly sweet, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), breast/nipple play, dirty talk, doin' it on a dragon, gratuitous use of valyrian

word count: 4.5k

a/n: finally proving to myself that i can remain semi-tame with the word count, i bet y'all thought i couldn't do it!! they're fucking around on a dragon. he gets road head, except it's on sunfyre. they're very cute.

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A high-pitched yelp rips its way from your throat as you feel Sunfyre move beneath you, stirring up dirt and dust from the floor of the Dragonpit as he beats his wings. Behind you, Aegon laughs, tightening his thighs around yours on the saddle and letting out an excited whoop as the dragon finally pushes off the ground. 

“Seven protect me!” You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as soon as you see the world fall away beneath you as Sunfyre rises higher and higher into the air. 

“Eglikta, Sunfyre! Sȳz!” Aegon calls out, pulling at the reins on the dragon's saddle as he guides him up and out of the Dragonpit. “You need not be so worried,” he soothes you, his voice loud and clear behind you as he speaks over the air whipping around the two of you, “You are with a highly skilled rider, my lady.” He reminds you sarcastically. (Higher, Sunfyre! Good!)

You gasp loudly as Sunfyre tilts upward, making you lean heavily on Aegon, your back to his chest as the dragon flies higher into the air. “It is not the rider I am worried about!” You call over the rushing wind, not daring to open your eyes as you grasp onto the sturdy leather straps of the saddle, white knuckling the material. 

“Sunfyre is a part of me,” Aegon explains for the thousandth time, smiling as he steadies himself on the saddle, wide eyes flicking in every direction as he scans the skies, “I trust him with my life, and I trust him with you.”

This was a familiar argument, one you’d heard many times before over the previous months as Aegon tried time and time again to convince you to go riding with him; it was one of the first things he’d asked of you as soon as the courtship had been arranged nearly a year ago. 

You’d finally relented, much to the prince’s delight, when news of your marriage was officially announced. “Consider it an early wedding present, your grace,” you’d told him at the time. 

Oh, how you had come to regret those words now that your heart felt like it was in your throat, your hair whipping wildly in the air behind you as Sunfyre climbed ever higher. “M-My love,” you stuttered, trying your damnedest to keep your voice level, “Could we not stay closer to the ground?”

Aegon chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back even through the various layers you both wore to guard yourselves from the cold air. “Bē konīr, gaomagon jāre!” The prince spoke, Sunfyre grumbled beneath you in response. Although you did not understand the command, and certainly not the beast's response, you could feel the bond between your betrothed and his dragon — some invisible current connecting one to the other. (Almost there, keep going!)

“You should trust me more than this!” Aegon laughs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the side of your head, “You seemed to have plenty of it the night of the banquet last week,” he began in that brash, cocky tone you’d grown accustomed to, “When you let me shove my head up your dress in the gardens onc—"

“Aegon!” You chided, one hand abandoning the leather straps long enough to playfully swat him on the thigh. 

“What?” He asks, no doubt smirking deviously, “Surely there is no one to overhear us up here!” 

Suddenly, Sunfyre tilts forward, righting you in the saddle once again and making you let out an embarrassing squeal. “Gīda, Sunfyre! Dohaeris!” Some small amount of happiness at recognizing one of the words, dohaeris, manages to cut through the fear you feel, making you let out a small giggle. “Almost there, sweetling,” Aegon smiles, one of his hands abandoning the reins to wind around your waist instead, holding you securely to him, “You’ll love this.” (Calm, Sunfyre! Obey!)

Still squeezing your eyes shut, you nod wordlessly, tightly gripping onto his forearm, your thighs trembling around Sunfyre’s saddle. “Are we up very high?” You ask, your voice sounding small, even to your own ears. 

Aegon chuckles again, eyes scanning the horizon as the golden dragon finally breeches the clouds, “We’re just as high as we need to be, hush.” The vague answer makes you uneasy, but you do feel slightly calmer as you notice a change in the air. It’s calmer now, breezing around you like a soothing song, making your hair flutter about gently rather than whip at your face. It’s quieter too, you cannot even hear birdsong nor the rushing of air anymore, as if the two of you have entered a void. 

“Sȳz, Sunfyre. Gaomagon gīda.” Again, Sunfyre grumbles, his agreement to whatever Aegon commanded vibrating through your body. A moment later, the prince runs a hand through your hair, tenderly brushing it away from your face as he presses another light kiss to your cheek, one arm still holding onto you tightly. “Open your eyes, my love.” He says softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. (Good Sunfyre, keep steady.)

Cautiously, you do as he asks and slowly open your eyes. At first, you cannot see much, blinking to dispel the tears brought on by bright sunlight, but once your eyes finally adjust, you gasp. You can feel your eyes widen to the sight before you, one unlike any you’ve seen before. Aegon had brought you up above the clouds, the dreary grey skies that had once been above you now spread out below you like an endless pale sea. Up here, everything was so bright, slightly pink tinted from the sun, and so stunningly still and calm, the only movement coming from Sunfyre gliding through the air.

“Gods,” you breathe, your grip finally loosening somewhat on Aegon’s arm as you scan the skies before you, “Aegon, it’s…” You trail off, mouth hanging open at a loss for words. 

“Beautiful,” he finishes, though when you turn your head to him, his gaze is already fixed on you, the corners of his lips turned up into a barely there smile. 

You can feel your face heat up at his attention, suddenly all too aware of how much of your bodies are pressed together on the saddle, of how his arm is still wrapped so securely around you. Despite being so far up in the cool atmosphere, you can feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks, your heart beating faster as a pleasant, familiar coil starts spiraling in your stomach – your thighs tightening around the firm leather of the saddle in an attempt to press together. 

“You were right,” you smile contentedly at Aegon over your shoulder, “It is magical up here, my love. And so calm and quiet…” You let your voice trail off as you relax into his chest, his warmth encompassing you as Sunfyre continues gliding above the clouds, his beautiful golden scales gleaming in the early evening sunlight. 

Every once in a while, pockets in the thick cloud floor open up, giving you glimpses of green farmer’s fields, the blue water of lakes, or the dusty browns of the roads that litter Westeros. The pockets seem to zip by as quickly as they come, leaving you unsure of exactly where you are above the kingdoms. “I feel so far away from everything.” You conclude finally, a strange sense of calmness threading its way through the unease that still blankets your belly. 

“Precisely,” Aegon answers, a far-away look taking hold in his dark violet eyes, one you had grown used to seeing over the course of your courtship with the prince.

Now it seemed as if it was your turn to gaze at him instead of the view, letting him have a moment to himself as you admired him, eyes trailing over the gentle slope of his nose, the pout of his pink lips, the alabaster column of his neck. You couldn’t help but squeeze his forearm tighter, trying to ground him you suppose — ironic as it was — to save him from whatever snare he had been trapped in in his mind. 

All at once, whatever melancholy had taken hold of him seems to wash away with a small gasp as he comes back to himself, centering you with a calm smile, though to you it may as well be as dazzling as the sparkle of Sunfyre’s scales.

 “We are indeed far away up here, sweetling,” he drawls, the familiar smooth, cocky cadence back in his voice sending a shiver up your spine, butterflies erupting in your belly. “Away from court, away from guards,” he continues, trailing light kisses down the slope of your neck and onto your shoulder, relishing the way you sigh and go ever more limp against him, “Away from any prying eyes at all, really.” He finishes, raising his eyebrows in sarcastic surprise as he shrugs. 

You can’t help but laugh at his tone, morphing into an uncontained moan as his teeth lightly graze your shoulder, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as your head tilts back against him. “Up here?” You ask, your voice already breathy.

He chuckles against you, low and dirty, “What better place is there, sweet girl?” He asks, rutting against you atop the saddle, making you gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against the small of your back, “There’s no one up here to stop us, no one to see us…” he husks, pressing wet kisses against your neck as his hand, the one not currently wrapped around you, abandons Sunfyre’s reins, coming instead to press against your breasts – his touch, even through your layers of clothing, making your nipples harden, the coil in your belly winding ever tighter. 

You whine as he touches you, unable to resist him even after all this time. “Aegon, please,” you whimper, gasping as you feel him unbuttoning your overcoat, sending a chill down your spine from the cold air against your skin. You’re unable to find it within yourself to care when you feel his warm hand, encased in a smooth leather glove, encompass your breast, lithe fingers immediately seeking out your nipple and teasing it relentlessly, “Oh, my love!” You gasp, grinding your hips down against the leather of Sunfyre’s saddle. 

He shushes you gently, teeth grazing against the side of your neck once more before you feel his lips curl into a smirk. Slowly, he removes his hand from where it’s nestled beneath your overcoat and dress, chuckling when you whine; quickly, he pulls off one of his riding gloves, tucking it securely into a coat pocket.  “Suck,” he says simply, pressing his fingers against your lips. You do as he says without complaint, running your tongue over the digits before properly sucking at them, moaning unabashedly when he presses them further against your tongue. “Gods,” he groans, voice deep and gravelly, “I love being in your sweet little mouth,” he murmurs, letting you suck contentedly for a moment longer, “Such a good girl, drooling around my fingers.”

His praise makes you moan, garbled around his fingers, as your eyes roll back in your head, your head bobbing as you suck, drool pooling at the corners of your lips as you lathe your tongue over his fingers. 

All too soon, he pulls them away, making you whine at the loss. However, that quickly turns into a loud, punched out moan when he resumes teasing your nipple, your spit instantly cooling in the air, which only serves to make the bud somehow harder. He groans with you as he spreads the slick around your breast, rutting his hard length against you.

“Sweetling,” he begins, a hint of taunting laughter in his voice, “Do you remember what we did during the last hunt? Hm? Hidden away in one of my tents?” 

You whimper, nodding as the memory floods back to you – the two of you sneaking away together during the final night of a large, week long, hunt, leaving everyone else feasting and dancing at the campfires. You were both giggling like children, half-drunk on Dornish wine, when you’d stumbled into one of Aegon’s tents, lips crashing together haphazardly in the dark. It had ended with you on your knees, taking the prince into your mouth as he leaned back against a storage chest, his hands tangled in your hair as your lips and tongue skirted up and down his length. 

The memory still floods you with arousal; it hadn’t been your first time pleasuring Aegon in that way, but it had been by far the most daring. “I have not felt your mouth on me in some time, my love,” he teases, moving you back against his length, still trapped in the confines of his trousers, “And we’re so hidden up here, no one to walk in and catch us, it would be a shame not to use the chance while we have it…”

Despite the circumstances, his offer is tempting; you love bringing him pleasure, love hearing the little gasps and moans he makes escape his lips. “How would we?” you ask, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, his violet eyes full of desire, “All the way up here, I mean.”

“You trust me?” Aegon asks, placing both of his hands on your hips.

You nod instantly, not even needing to give his question a second of thought, “Of course, you know I do.” You answer truthfully. 

Smiling, he slowly moves his hands until they come to rest at your hips. “Gīda, Sunfyre.  Rȳbagon naejot nyke,” he commands the dragon before once again looking at you. “Okay, my love,” he taps one of your thighs, “Just bring this leg up and over the saddle, yeah? Like on a horse.” (Steady, Sunfyre. Listen to me.)

“Oh, definitely, just like on a horse,” you say sarcastically, an attempt to keep your nervousness at bay, which makes Aegon chuckle behind you. Slowly, you do as he says, leaning back onto him for support as you swing your leg up and over Sunfyre’s massive saddle, coming to sit side-saddle atop the beast. 

“Okay, good,” Aegon smiles, keeping his hands tight on your waist, “Now just turn…” He murmurs in concentration, patiently helping you turn your torso to face him, and sighing happily when you do. “And the other leg,” he commands, steadying you as you bring your opposite leg back over the saddle, “Perfect.” He praises you as you right yourself again, now facing him.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, getting used to facing the opposite direction. As soon as you look at the prince, though, that coil of arousal that was winding itself tight in your belly starts moving once again when you notice his eyes scanning over your chest, a sliver of your skin exposed from where your overcoat remains unbuttoned, your own underneath pulled to the side. 

His eyes meet yours, and he smirks when he notices your own arousal. All at once, the two of you crash together once again – lips colliding together as you moan into each other's mouths, hands grasping onto whatever parts of the prince you can reach; you bite his lip teasingly, making Aegon growl.

“Little minx,” he breathes against your neck as he kisses down your jaw, “Wanting to suck my cock so badly you’d risk life and limb on a dragon.” He teases, smirking when your hands shoot out to undo the ties and buttons at the top of his trousers.

Rolling your eyes, you finally manage to free his length, making him let out a relieved groan. You languidly stroke him for a moment, savoring the broken, choked off moans he breathes into your mouth, the flushed tip of his cock already leaking onto your hand. 

“Gods,” he groans lowly, his hips already fucking up into your hand, “Your mouth, my love, please!” He asks, his eyes squeezed shut.

Smirking, you kiss your way down his jaw before carefully leaning forward, pressing yourself against the firm leather saddle until your face is level with him. You give a quick kiss to the underside of the tip, right where you know a little sensitive ball of nerves lies, before you softly run your tongue over the head; you’re a goner as soon as the salty taste of him hits your tongue, losing yourself in the task as always. With a whimper, you begin bobbing your head up and down along his cock, one of your hands coming up to stroke the small bit at the base that you can’t fit in your mouth. 

One of Aegon’s hands comes up and wraps itself in your hair, pulling it back and away from your face as he grinds up into the heat of your mouth. “Fuck,” he moans, long and low as he tilts his head back, “So good, so good, fuck.” He repeats, already lost in the way you feel, in how dutifully you pleasure him – just like a good little wife should, and he knows you will be the best wife for him.

You close your eyes, head spinning with adrenaline as you continue pleasuring him, the hand at the base of his cock moving lower to cup his stones and gently roll them in your palm, just the way you know he adores. The effect is instantaneous, a punched-out groan wrenching itself from his throat as his abdomen contracts, making him jerk in your hold. You chuckle around him, drool slipping out of the corners of your mouth as you smile around his length, pleased to have reduced him to such a state already. 

The noises he’s making, along with the feel of him in your mouth, hot and heavy on your tongue, make you clench around nothing, whining onto his length, which catches his attention. You hear him chuckle above you, laughter turning to a pleasured hiss when you suck him deeper into your mouth, “Is having my cock in your mouth getting to you, sweetling?” He questions in the same cocky tone you’ve come to know so well, “Making your little bud ache?”

You nod around him as best you can, moaning around him when the hand in your hair clutches the strands tightly, leading you in the exact rhythm he wants as he ruts in and out of your mouth. He lets out a pleased hum, “I’ll take care of you, my love,” he promises, pressing you lower on his length, his eyes rolling back when he feels you spit and gag around him, “Fuck, just as soon as I finish down this pretty throat.”

At that, you redouble your efforts, moaning around his cock as you suck him down eagerly. He starts grumbling in Valyrian under his breath, a sure sign that he’s close, as if the way he was fisting your hair and panting into the cool air wasn’t enough of an indication. Right when he lets out a deep moan of your name, almost sounding in pain, you move the fist around his base faster and press your tongue to the sensitive underside of his head as you suckle on it, one of your hands tugging at his stones in just the right manner. 

“Fuck!” He spits out, his body tensing up as he presses you further down onto his cock, a deep, resonating growl leaving him at the same second that his hot seed spurts directly down your throat as his length pulses and twitches in your grasp. You moan at the familiar taste of him, your eyes slipping shut as you allow him to use your throat, swallowing down the last few drops of his seed while he whispers your name again and again in reverence. 

Finally, his hips stop twitching and the hand in your hair falls limp, allowing you to pull away from him. You sit up, moaning in surprise when he immediately tangles his hands in your hair again and pulls your face to his, uncaring that you’d swallowed down his spend mere seconds before as he bites your lip and tangles your tongue with his. 

You press yourself against him, sighing when you feel the warmth of his chest against yours, his body somehow hot despite the temperature, as if lit from within like Sunfyre. “Such a good wife,” he sighs against your lips, “How have I come to deserve you?”

“We are not yet married!” you laugh, shaking your head as you marvel at him, taking in the way his cheeks are still lightly flushed.

“A moon's time is close enough,” he shrugs, violet eyes gazing at you with adoration, though growing darker when he catches the sliver of your chest still exposed where your coat is open, “Turn back around.” He whispers suddenly, his voice husky. 

You don’t bother questioning him, simply nodding, although his hands are already back on your waist, helping you turn back around on the dragon’s saddle.

“Need to touch you,” he explains anyway, contently humming, low in his chest, when you’re pressed against him once more, “Need to make you feel good – you deserve to feel good.” He babbles, mostly talking to himself as he skirts his hands over your body. “Lenton sir, Sunfyre. Soves!” He commands, grabbing at the reins with his still-gloved hand, coaxing the large beast into a slow, smooth turn, although he still held you tightly to him until the dragon was once again gliding – his huge, rosy wings slicing through the air with practiced ease. (Home now, Sunfyre. Go!)

“Where –”

“Home,” Aegon huffs, fingers desperately tugging open the remaining buttons on your coat, frantically pushing the fabric out of the way as soon as the last one is pulled undone, eager to get his hands on your soft skin.

“But –” You start, only to be cut off as he groans impatiently, practically ripping the skirts of your dress in an effort to push them to the side, exposing your smallclothes.

“We’ll have time, sweetling,” he breathes, pushing a hand into the thin fabric, groaning when he feels how wet your slick folds are, so warm against his skin, “It’s not like it takes me long to bring you pleasure.” You can hear the boastful pride dripping from his low voice as he speaks against the side of your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine as your back arches against him.

“Oh!” You gasp as you feel his fingers finally touching you, immediately zeroing in on your aching, swollen bud with a practiced ease, sending electricity zipping up your spine. 

“Ooh, someone’s sensitive,” he teases, rubbing tight, wet circles against you as his gloved hand finds its way into your coat again, yanking down the fabric of your dress before he cups your breast, kneading the delicate skin in time with the ministrations to your cunt, “Do you enjoy my fingers, sweetling?”

 You nod, already panting heavily in his grasp, your body going from rigid to pliant as you moan unabashedly in the air, not needing to be mindful of your volume all the way up here – Sunfyre as your only witness seems wholly uninterested. He chuckles against your neck as he bites at the sensitive skin, the small pinpricks of pain only adding to the pleasure radiating from your core. 

You buck up against him as you feel two of his fingers venture lower, prodding at the opening of your slick heat, gathering some of the wetness there before roughly pushing them into you. You grunt out a curse as you feel them enter you completely, Aegon not bothering to tease them into you as he usually does and instead pressing incessantly against that rough spot within you that makes you see stars. 

“Aegon, my love,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his hand, his thumb catching against your bud as his fingers continue tormenting your center, scissoring and curling within you, “I’m–” You cut yourself off, unable to finish a thought with the way he’s handling you.

“I know you’re close,” he grunts, his hands moving frantically against you as you shake against his chest, one hand plucking and pinching at your nipple as the other fucks into your squelching wet heat, “I can feel this lovely cunt squeezing me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck!” You cry in time with the thrusts of his hand, your head tilting back onto his shoulder as you feel your high creeping ever closer, the fire in your belly growing to a blazing, roaring inferno. 

He laughs lowly as he mouths at the spot just below your ear, never tiring of being able to reduce you to such a base state, moaning and writhing in his arms. “Go on, sweetling,” he coaxes you, fingers rubbing up against that rough patch within you ceaselessly as his thumb circles your bud in the same rhythm, “Let yourself have it – you’re so close, let yourself feel good, my good girl, my love.” He begs between love bites, panting against your neck as you fuck yourself against his fingers. 

“Aegon!” You cry, your eyes squeezing shut as your entire body tenses with a sob, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as wave after wave of pleasure crashes into you. Your walls grip desperately at his fingers, coating his hand in your sweet juices as stars explode behind your eyelids, a vicious, loud moan punching out of your chest at the intensity of your high. 

Eventually, the waves begin to subside, leaving you whimpering pathetically against him as he continues gently pleasuring you, helping you ride out your peak for as long as your body will allow. After a moment though, his fingers finally come to a stop when he hears your small whimpers and whines, indicating that his touches are bordering on overstimulating you. 

He coos lovingly, soothing you with soft touches and kisses against your cheek as he licks your spend from the hand that had been fucking you, savoring your taste with drawn out, dirty moans, taking pleasure in the way it made you blush and squirm like you were still the innocent maiden everyone believes you to be. 

“Ñuha gevie ābrazȳrys,” Aegon murmurs after a moment, violet eyes studying you as he peeks from over your shoulder, “Nyke daor umbagon naejot dīnagon ao.” (My beautiful wife, I cannot wait to marry you.)

You don’t know what the words mean but they sound so beautiful coming from his pouty lips that you cannot help the blush that blooms on your cheeks, the sight making him chuckle. 

“Look,” he says, pointing into the distance, “You’ll love this.” 

Following the tip of his finger, you narrow your eyes, not seeing anything for a second. Just as you’re about to inquire as to what exactly you’re supposed to be looking at, you gasp, watching with wide eyes as the tallest tower of the Red Keep emerges from behind a cloud. 

“Seven,” you whisper, watching as the rest of the large fortress is slowly revealed, followed by the large domes of the Dragonpit and the Sept of Baelor, “Oh, Aegon…it’s beautiful.” You whisper, eyes sweeping over the entirety of King’s Landing, from the waves of the shores of Blackwater Bay all the way to small houses of farmers that lie beyond the city walls, all bathed in the golden, pinky lighting of the setting sun. 

“Gevie,” he breathes, gaze entirely fixed on you, on the way you hands grasp his, “Gevie ābrazȳrys.” (Beautiful, beautiful wife)

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @avalyaaa @fan-goddess @hopelesswritergall @toms-cherry-trees @aemshaircare @cuddlejeongin @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[perrigoaway]

Part 2 to a comic I made a little over a month ago! I was going to make it for white day, but I was a bit late TT see the first part here

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more thoughts beneath the cut, as always!

Hi! so as I said before, im a little late for when I wanted to post this. I realized it was white day a few days ago and thought it would be fun to make a little comic with Apollo's attempt at revenge! I started it ON white day, then I realized there was NO way I was getting it out then whoops! Here it is now >:)

I worked on this and it was actually driving me nuts, I continuously thought "does this comic even make sense at this point?" hopefully it does TT

I do want to say though, I went into this thinking that no matter how I made things, I wanted it to MOSTLY backfire on Apollo TT SORRY APOLLO LOVE YOU TT I just think he would have really odd ideas on how to get back at someone. Like what kind of person steals the shirts out of your closet for revenge? Him, I guess. Or me since I was the one who thought up the idea LMAO. ALSO I think that Klapollo as a ship in general is interesting because, no matter how someone writes them, inherently, they're BOTH just losers. Yet, they both want to be the coolest person ever and sometimes (most of the time) it doesn't work out how they want, especially with Apollo. He wants to be cool so bad but says stuff like "um, hiya..!" He's my favorite little guy, just like me fr

AND shout out to my sisters for helping me to block this out TT my younger sister practically did ALL the work for the second panel, she even drew it out for me initially, so thanks gug <3 @abandonedart

I'm only a little sorry for yapping this time >:)

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Revealing Clothing

Summary: Having all of 141 over for Simon’s birthday isn’t the problem, it’s what you got him. 

A/N: Based on the old beer poster trend on tik tok.

Word Count: 1.2k (Barely Edited)

It was only supposed to be a gag gift. Honestly, you forgot about it right after getting it framed and printed. It was stuffed in the back of your closet for so long that you had to wipe away dust from the wrapping paper. 

You were scrolling mindlessly on social media while Simon was away on the job, and the video had popped up. At first, you only giggled at the idea and continued on. But as the day went on, it kept popping up in your mind. It really was just a spontaneous idea, something you and Simon would laugh at and then forget about after you showed him. 

It just so happened to be a few months before Simon’s birthday, and you told yourself you would randomly give it to him as you both sipped on some drinks with a movie playing in the living room. But, since you totally forgot about it, you had decided to invite Simon’s coworkers over to celebrate with you. Simon, of course, had grunted when you told him to invite them over. But after a few pleading looks (and telling him he wouldn’t be able to touch you at all for a week), he relented and agreed. 

They all sat around in the den, reminiscing over old stories while a game played low on the TV. Food was free for grabs in the kitchen for the boys to get up and grab plates of while they sipped on beers and glasses of hard liquor. Gifts were placed on the coffee table, waiting for the time when Simon would need to open them. Honestly, everything was going fine. The boys were in high spirits despite finishing a gruesome mission less than a week ago, and Simon was more relaxed than he would ever admit. 

But then, after Simon sat awkwardly through an out of tune rendition of happy birthday and blowing out candles, it was time for gifts. You had kissed his cheek and carried the rest of the uneaten cake back to the fridge for storing, leaving the boys to their whoops of excitement every time Simon opened a gift. By the time you got back, Simon was on to the last gift. You sat next to him on the sofa and tried not to laugh when Simon unwrapped a pair of socks with Soap’s face printed over the entirety of it. 

As Simon grumbled about them through the boys’ laughter, Price turned to you with a soft smile. “How about you, kid? What did ya get Ghost? Didn’t see a gift from ‘ya,”

That instantly caught the other boys’ attention, the boys started asking the same question while Simon stared at you silently. Your brows were furrowed in confusion about why your gift wasn’t with the rest when the memory of it hit you. Your face instantly went a deep red and you picked up Simon’s glass to take a nervous sip. 

“Oh, um.. It’s in the room but, y’know… it’s fine really. I can just get it later.” You mumbled into the glass, not meeting their eyes.

All the boys groaned in protest, complaining how unfair it is that all they got to see was ugly Soap socks. You could only chuckle nervously while Simon leaned slightly towards you, “It’s okay, lovie. Go get it.” 

The soft look in his eyes made you a goner. You gulped nervously and got up, walking to you and Simon’s shared bedroom before opening the closet. You pulled out the rectangular gift and walked back to the group. They instantly shouted their excitement when they saw you with the gift in hand. 

You sat back to Simon, a shy smile on your face as you handed it to him with a small Happy Birthday, Si. With the gift covering both of you due to the sheer size, he mumbled back a thanks with a small kiss to your cheek. He opened it slowly, brows furrowing as he got more and more confused as he revealed it. When he ripped enough of the wrapping paper off to get a clear image, he froze and tensed with a soft curse. Fuck.

Through the hole in the wrapping, a picture of you in a skimpy (and impractical) military outfit was revealed. It was more of an army green bikini, fake weapon holsters wrapped around your thighs like garters. A cropped military jacket was draped over your shoulders and knee high black boots traveled up your legs. You looked like an overly sexualized video game character, standing in an open legged and confident pose in front of a fake desert background. Simon pushed a bit of the paper away from one of the sides, revealing a skull mask in your hand resting against your leg. Simon gulped as he focused on it. 

“Is it that bad L.T? Let us have a peak!” Gaz spoke up, trying to lean closer toward Ghost to take a look at what he was staring so intensely at.

Simon instantly growled at him, pushing the gift into his chest and away from any peering eyes. He turned his head to you, a glare on his face. Now he understands your hesitance to give him the gift in front of his friends. You gulped and mouthed out a sorry. He turned away from you again, pushing Gaz’s face away from him with a strangled, “No.”

The boys complained again, trying to convince their lieutenant to show them what you got him. He instantly shut it down, telling them to back off before going back to the bedroom to keep the picture away from them. When he left, everyone tried to get you to tell them what it was. You only shrugged and sipped sheepishly on Simon’s drink. 

Soon after, you were showing everyone out. The game was over and barely any food was left. The boys thanked you for inviting them over, clapping Simon’s back with the last of their birthday wishes before closing the door behind them. When the last of them left, Simon shut the door and turned around to face you. 

“Hi,” you whispered shyly, watching as he folded his arms and leaned back against the door.

“Hi,” was his gruff response back. 

Silence developed between the two, causing you to shift on your feet nervously. You were thinking about what else to say when Simon spoke up: “Who else?”

You blinked, surprised he was the first to speak and confused at his question, “Wha-”

“Who else saw that picture?” He clarified, pushing off the door and walking towards you.

You gulped at his closeness, watching nervously as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear gently. “Uh, my friend, you know the one who does photography during her free time, took the pictures and edited them. But I printed it at the self-printing center.”

Simon hummed in acknowledgement, lazily running his fingers up and down your neck and jaw. “Good.”

Another wave of silence stretched after that. You stood quietly as Simon continued lightly tracing the skin around your face before you spoke up again. “Did..did you, uh, like it?”

Simon chuckled lightly, bending down to place his face in the crook of your neck. You shiver as his warm breath and lips graze the sensitive skin of your throat. Simon’s hand runs down the side of you, until he grasps your hand. Ever so slowly, he drags your hand up to the front of his pants, holding it to the bulging fabric of his jeans.

“You could say that.”

The writing is BAD! I'm so sorry this is literally rushed and Simon is so OOC.

[frmisnow]

˙✧˖ ?! — TOUCHIN' MYSELF THINKING 'BOUT YOU.

— ‧₊˚ — 🫐: "so my little girl is all grown up??"

summary. your past three years of dating were horrendous, all to cover up any living horny thought of your brothers bestfriend, how do you vent to that bestfriend about your problems without mentioning him?

note. FIRST FIC ON THIS BLOG RAH, conclusion: I LOVE CHOI FUCKING SEUNGCHEOL 🦢₊✧⋆ was listening to lana del rey while writing the first bit so prepare.....

song recs. chemtrails over the country club (lana del rey), good for you (selena gomez ft. asap rocky), older (isabel larosa)

warnings/includes. non idol! seungcheol x fem! reader, lil elements of angst at the beginning, they're both kinda obssesed with eachother in the end (whoop whoop), reader is like 5 years younger (it's not to bad), he's so bf it hurts (in the beginning), 'little girl' + 'brainless/cum slut' mentioned, nipple play + tit sucking, big dick, size kink-ish, PROTECTED SEX (YASSS) - MDNI !!!!

"i just don't now what i'm doing wrong!" what you also don't know is how you ended up here, sitting on the soft rug of seungcheols apartment with a tea in hand, his adress you solely memorized from your brothers countless times of blabbering about it, was the last thing you reminded while running from the restaurant.

he sat down with a quiet sigh onto his wide coffee brown coach, that him and your brother used to play videogames on in high school and you couldn't help but feel like a burden once again.

i mean what did you think? storming into the apartment of the bestfriend from the brother you broke of contact like five months ago: so foolish. the rain was still pouring in buckets outside, the noise it made on the glass of the large windows, very audible.

it's not that he wasn't nice about this as soon as he saw her at his front door, he ran in full speed to get her one of his thick puffy sweaters, immadetly scolding her for even thinking of walking out in the rain and the cold in the short dress.

he behaved just how any kind person would, just how any past kind-of-ish friend ended on good terms would've and that's what hurt.

seungcheol didn't know that all of these dates with all of the jerks where to drain him out of her thoughts. seungcheol didn't know that you'd cut out your brother from pictures, to leave him only on it as a teen. precious seungcheol didn't know how you'd pick out people who were kinda closed to him, so you could stay in semi-contact if you ever were to date the person. so you wouldn't feel stupid ever contacting him without your damn brother, so you wouldn't feel like fourteen again.

granted; you tried everything to forget him in any shape and form possible: you'd overwork yourself to death just to forget about that one hot ass eyebrow thingie he did to tease you as a kid, countless meaningless sex was also always an option: just to forget the printed image of what his dick might look like. and it didn't work, at all.

no matter how hard you tried, cheol would always find a way to tiptoe back into your head, "it's not your fault, you're a good person, y'know" he mumbled into the silence, his tone incredibly soft and gentle like reassuring a crying child: he was just so fucking nice it made you want to ball your eyes out.

sometimes you wish he'd murder someone or throw insults at you, you wish he'd do anything for you to hate him: but he didn't, of course he didn't.

you stand up to bring the now empty cup to the kitchen counter but he catches your wrist whilst still sitting on the coach, stopping you. "you're cold, sit down - i'll take care of it" he pushes you down onto the coach, ordering you to sit and you know he won't allow any discussion on the matter.

and it sucked, it sucked that he was so damn loveable. it sucked that he had to flash you that familar wide smile that made you want to jump out the window right onto the wet streets of seoul.

he skipped back from the kitchen quickly now with an additional blanket in hand, this usually would've been the part where you'd normally say 'no, it's fine' or some other lame and lied remark, however this time you didn't. you simply grabbed the blanket, covering your body while staring out of the windows in a slight daze.

the sound of the rain made your eyes wander back up to him as you noticed the concerned look on his face.

"are you feeling sick?" he mumbled while his eyes wandered around your face, cupping it with both hands, examining you, "well you don't seem to be hot, that's good"

cheol smiled kindly again at his own words, his hands still on your face - now without any particular reason, he gulps slightly as you notice his eyes wandering all over your face.

he's about to awkwardly pull them away when you stop him, holding his wrists firmly as you look down at the ground in embarassement, you felt so weak: like you were begging for attention.

"why did you come? don't lie, tell me why you came" his tone was still reassuring, his fingers now lightly brushing against your cheeks, your gaze remaining

"the date just sucked and i- i didn't know where to go, i didn't want to be home alone and your adress was the first thing i remembered, i'm sorry i know i'm wasting your time" the words flew out of your mouth instantly however that wasn't the only reason and you both knew it.

you needed a place to stay and a person that could comfort you and you'd always found both in him.

his thumb kept stroking your cheek in a repeating motion, if you could've you would've curled up in his lap and held onto his shoulders like you did when you were little. why does everything become so complicated when you're an adult?

"you'll stay the night, it's midnight, you're fucking freezing and it's raining outside - i'll show you the bedroom" he said with so much casualty in his words, like it was the most normal thing in the world, you appreciated him making this feel as 'normal' as he could.

"no, i can take the coa-" he fell into her words, "no" his voice for the first time this evening stern, allowing no counter arguments.

seungcheol took both of your hands, helping you stand up from the coach, guiding you incredibly gentle until he added, "don't worry about it, i'm glad you came to me"

he was so sexy goddamnit.

it just wasn't fair, it wasn't fair that you had to innocently sit on his bed in his clothes watching him undress and pretend you aren't watching and quite literally drooling over the way his muscles flexed with just simple movements.

if you could you would kiss each little ounce of skin on his body and you'd gladly do it over and over again.

fourteen-year-old you would sell her soul for this, deep down you wanted to jump onto him and rip off his remaining clothes.

it was so funny, he was painfully unaware and oblivious of the effect he had on you yet when he turned around now his bare back shown to you as he scretches to get a shirt from the closet you let out a little sound of surprise.

"since when do you have tatteos?" your voice mumbled almost like a self thought to yourself but audible to him, about the size of half a hand a black tattoo grazed his upper back.

he turned around, man tits and abs all out a cheeky little grin on his face almost like he's happy you noticed, "i got this second year, college so like almost eight years ago-" he pauses, eyebrows slightly furrowed in light confusion and shook, "wow, time really does fly, does it?"

"it really does" your voice tone changing for a split second to something a bit more nostalgic as you stood up from the bed, hands reaching out naively towards the tattoo, "... can i?"

seungcheol nodded in response as your fingers began lazily tracing the outline of it, "do you have more?" he shaked his head, his chest rising and falling faster than before but maybe you're just envisioning things, "you need to stop" his voice now also changed, sounding almost hoarse?

you didn't realize you were making him nervous at all, he never seemed the typ of guy that could have any sort of reaction when it came to such simple and tender touch.

"i'm sorry if i'm making you uncomfortable, it's just really pretty"  you explained while you looked back down at your hand which looked unusually small in comparison to his back, "the tattoo or something else?" he answered faintly and you felt practically caught in the act yet you rested your head on his broad back, basically on the tattoo in response, "both" where did you get the sudden courage from?

from one minute to another, you grew rather bold as your hands move from his tattoos to his little moles, moving between them like a map and even that turned to a point where you started to massage his back making him groan.

in a sudden swift motion, your face was once again cupped, his hands cold, his own face inches away from your own as he muttered, "why are you doing this to me? why are you making it so hard?"

you froze in place once he took your face in his hands and your breath caught in your throat, his voice became quiet and his eyes shifted over to your mouth before your eyes met once more.

it took you some time to process what he said, your mind running wild as you tried to respond to what he just asked.

"i need you, been needing you, that's also why i'm here," you murmured muffled as a slow smile creeped up on his face, there was almost like a hint of relief in his expression, "how long have you been needing me for?" his tone mocking in a sexual way.

your gaze shifts to the floor, hiding from his praying eyes which just won't leave yours, "since fourteen"

"and how old are you?"

"you wanna embaress me," as you added "you already know it"

he chuckled, "oh, but i want my little girl to tell me" his hands wander back to your face, lifting it, a silent command for you to look up to him.

"your little girl? I'm 5 years younger then you, it's not the end of the world" you protested till after about 20 seconds adding weakly, "23"

"so my little girl is all grown up?" his hands leaving your face, tracing your collarbone till travelling to your tits, circling around them meanwhile maintaining eye contact like waiting for an answer.

"so pretty, so pretty for me" a slow, knowing grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he slid his cold hands underneath the shirt he gave you earlier, taking a hold of your tits, "wanted to touch these for so long"

you raised your eyebrows, breath hitching cause you just had to ask, "since when?"

his fingers squeezed both tits, his gaze seeming a little hazy as it took him a few seconds to register what you just said yet he was quick to finally answer, "ever since you stopped talking to me, since the last time we talked on the phone, all i've had was you on my mind, i missed your voice"

"i touched myself fuckin' thinking 'bout you it would've been wrong if if i clocked in every now and then to pretend we're good old friends"

as you were responding he traced your nipples, making your finally sentence come out strained and breathy yet seungcheols actions paused when he heard what you forced out.

that tiny little smirk slowly but surerly found its way onto his face admist one raised eyebrow, the thing he did that would make young you always go feral, "how many times are we talking about here?"

looking down, you shamefully avoided his eager eye contact, it was so fucking embarrassing - it was embarrassing how you could feel your pussy fuckin throbbing from a little tit touching, it was embarrassing how many times you imagined his fat cock pounding into you when you were fucking his friends, it was embarrassing how many utter times you solely thought of him during other sex.

"that's what i thought" he grinned, "hands up" you did as he told when cheol slid of your shirt completely, simply the sight of your bare chest making him groan.

he wrapped his hands around each of the both, his big veiny hands covering them up entirely, his fingers moving to your nipples pinching both individually, "bet you used a dildo every fucking night, praying that it was gon' be me one day huh"

you moaned in response, shifting and arching closer to him - closer to his damn hands, seungcheol groaned while he himself motioned even nearer to your boobs, his mouth enclosing around your left hardened nipple, straight away beginning to lick your soft and sensitive flesh.

your hands ran through his hair, staying locked in them, your knuckles visable due to the sensation. you being a bit lightheaded leads to the both of you stumbling back slightly, ending up on his large bed his hands now running all over your body - touching, squeezing anything he could reach, his mouth never leaving your chest.

"so pretty," the sound of his rough voice mixed with little mewls muffeled as he sucks on the precious skin, "so fucking pretty"

you press your hips forward shamelessly, craving any form of friction, his heavy erection pressing against you directly as you groan deeply at the feeling of his skilled tongue working wonders on your tits combined with his cock against you, fabric being the only thing seperating both.

"need you," you pressed out, your own whimper cutting you off "in me, need you, inside"

"why? i'm not in a rush" his tone was still commanding yet his voice was as hoarse as ever like fighting with his inner self of just giving in.

"cheolie please" that sweet little nickname - his favorite, he liked so much, she used to call him that always.

cheol jolted his head, looking up to the ceiling, grunting loudly, "always have to make everything so hard for me"

in one swift motion, his oversized shorts that he gave you were slipped of you and he rested his hands on her ankles dragging you a bit closer to him, "gotta check if this pussy is ready for me, k?" he looked back at you, expecting a nod as you did so, much to your unease he spread your legs wide, inspecting and checking with two fingers even curling making you lightly squirm.

almost like sensing cheol was about to deny and say you weren't ready, you rapidly exclaimed: "can take it," when seeing his unimpressed face expression adding, "i swear, cheolie, promise"

deep down he liked it when you were vulnerable to him like this, when he saw you as something he could control and gently toy with instead of someone he once considered a friend. he liked the sight of you like this, so exposed, so fragile, so small - it made him want to protect you, it made him want to make you his but most importantly it made him want to fuck you brainless.

his hands ran to his pants, removing them of himself swiftly yet almost lazily like he had all the time in the world as if you weren't openly struggling to not cum on the spot, undone - just upon seeing the sight of his cock.

your lips slightly part, eyes a bit wider and for the first time in your sex life you actually wonder if you can take dick.

"what, are you suddenly unsure?" he moves closer to you, his fingers roaming through your hair like a soft caress contradicting to anything he said in the past five minutes, the cocky grin stays on cheols face so you know that he's still good old mean him.

"don't you think you'd look so pretty on it? don't you need my cum deep inside you? didn't you pray every fuckin' night for my cock to scretch you out? don't you? mmh" his tone incredibly mocking and dripping of pure sarcasm, his body now towering over you as his hands slide on a condom from his night desk over his length.

"che-" your words were abrouptly cut of by his dick slipping into you, so easily - the wet mess that you were already additionaly helped him slide in smoothly.

"so needy for my cock" he was about half way through filling you up and you dreaded the actual full fit cause you already felt him so deep inside. his thrusts were slow at first almost careful like testing the waters but surely picked up pace whilst mumbling: "so proud of you, look at you- taking it so well"

it felt like you had water in your ear, no thoughts in your brain as the only sounds you heard were the wet skin slapping noises echoing through your mind.

he pulled out just for a split second just to slap into you even harder, balls deep to the point where you could feel him probably somewhere in your stomach, incoherent blabbering and pleading coming from your direction.

"you're just a brainless little slut, who doesn't have anybody satisfying her, a brainless little slut who'd get on her knees for anyone just to forget about my dick, a brainless little slut who kept all those horny thoughts to herself for nine years just to spill them out the second i asked, that's you, isn't it?"

you moaned weakly in response as he mercilessly continued to pound into you, "fucking made for this, made to take me in every way there is"

it was truly pathetic, how you could already feel that tingling feeling in your tummy signalising that you were close and it was pathetic how his words turned you on, how they made you lift your hips up further how they made you whimper every time.

"gonna train you into my own little cum slut," his breathing irregular practically panting yet he's serious, "so close, cheolie fuck i-" his hands wander back to your tits while maintaining the same pace of hip movement, squeezing and kneading the delicate skin, biting his lips.

you clench around him, hips pushing forward one last time as you come, a mix of cursing and unsensical nonsense leaving both of yalls mouth during as he jolts his head back coming at the same time.

after about a minute later, seungcheol pulls out carefully, his hands cupping your face, looking at you sweetly almost innocently like he didn't just fuck the living brain out of you.

"are you okay?" you nod along, smiling lazily, your arms wrapping around his tough bare chest pulling him closer.

he returned the hug, wrapping his buff arms around you completely, kissing the top of your head softly, "i wasn't to mean, was i?"

[dellalyra]

Hi love I’m back for a bit anyways I was going through my notes and I saw your folder with request ideas that I had and didn’t request yet and since you finally hit 2k i can still do it so yay!

You remember that scene in the manga where they had to train gojos infinity by basically throwing things at him? Yeah so what I was thinking is that moment and also just to make it funnier I just know they were throwing things at him at the speed of light just to make sure something hits him and they moved up to heavier massive objects just for fun so something like that please. :)

ᴜɴᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ - ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Pixie Says: this was so fun soraya you are my queen I stg I loved writing this

“Did it hit?” You shout across the field.

“No! Do it again?” Satoru’s voice echoes back.

Shoko hands Geto another tennis ball, and he proceeds to fire it across the field - towards an unperturbed Gojo.

“What about that one?” Shoko asks.

“Nope! Do something bigger! Geto - where’s our basketball?” The white haired man says, with all the excitement of a puppy.

Geto rolls his eyes, but smiles slightly - a rare sight these days - as he wanders toward the dorms to grab his ball.

“Think fast!” Shoko shouts, throwing an apple at Gojo’s head.

The apple splits in half and falls to the floor as you and Shoko cheer with Gojo at yet another object infinity can reflect.

Geto jogs towards them, and tosses the orange basketball at his best friend - it bounces straight off and back toward Geto who grabs it in one large hand.

“Okay - we gotta think bigger.” You say, hands on your hips and looking around the courtyard.

Shoko strolls off, only to come back a second later with a chair from one of the classrooms.

“Jesus Koko - I meant like - a pillow.” You try to take the chair but Gojo interrupts by shouting ‘throw the chair!’.

Ever the dutiful girlfriend, you allow Geto to swing the chair toward your man who is gleefully jumping at the prospect of having a chair flung in his direction.

The wood splits in half and falls with a clunk to the ground. Geto claps and whoops at the mess left, all four of you cheering, a mutual love of chaos being the thing that bonded you all three years ago.

“Okay but these are all like, blunt things. Can it stop weapons? Y/N, throw a knife at him.” Shoko says, patting down your thigh to find the holster you keep under your uniform skirt.

“Get your morguey hands outta my girl’s skirt, Ieiri!” Satoru shouts, tossing a tennis ball back at her.

“What about a knife, ‘toru?” You say, fully confident in your love’s abilities to not get stabbed (again).

You had been witness to his crazed intent to become stronger, and almost invincible, over the past few months since the incident. Marks left on everyone, a slight scar on Gojo’s pale throat, crisscrossed scars spanning the width of Geto’s broad chest - the scar of the sound of a gunshot penetrating a sweet girl’s head haunting every dream, hands stained with the blood of her best friends and the memory of shaking hands as she sewed their wounds shut for Shoko and the image of your soulmate bleeding out in your lap and the slash of scar across your thigh from the blow he landed as you tried to deflect him from Satoru.

If one good thing had come from it, it was the fact that it contributed toward the push you and Satoru both needed for getting your heads out of your asses and finally confessing just how much you loved each other that day after the mission in the abandoned hospital.

So you didn’t worry.

Shaking the thoughts from your head you whip your dagger out and spin it between your fingers.

“Ready, ‘toru.” You ask, smiling.

“Always, princess.” He smirks back.

You fling the knife with eerie precision toward him and see it clatter to the ground below an unscathed Gojo.

Another chorus of cheers erupts.

“We need to think even bigger.” Shoko says, deep in thought.

“I’ve got exactly the thing.” Geto says, smirk gracing his features as he looks straight toward you, and in one fast swoop you find yourself in his arms as he prepares to launch you across the field.

“Geto Suguru don’t you dare throw me! I swear to god I will fucking - AGHHHHHH.” Your words of warning are interrupted as you feel yourself fly through the air and then as soon as it started it stops with a jolt and a pair of strong arms wrapping around you, a sheen of sweat sticking to your skin.

You open your eyes, laughing at the turn of events, and see a pair of ice blue eyes, the colour which has been your favourite since you were 16, staring back at you with a wide smile.

“You caught me!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck and realising that he’s switched his infinity off to hold you.

“Only a fool would drop a girl like you.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you smile.

“I can’t believe you just quoted scooby-doo and kissed me.” You say, burying your head into his neck.

“You love me.” He says, shrugging.

“That’s exactly why I love you.” You giggle as he gently returns you to solid ground.

“I love you more, but now, I believe you have revenge to enact.” He pats your head, and fixes your shirt.

“I do, thank you, ‘toru.” A peck on the cheek as you stand on the tips of your toes. You smile at him, and turn around.

“GETO SUGURU! YOU BASTARD, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!” You sprint toward the man who is laughing and beginning to back away slowly - away from the wrath of the future Mrs.Gojo.

[jjsmaybank20]

Celebrity News 2

Jenna Ortega x GN!Reader

Summary: Once again, everyone thinks that you and Jenna broke up. In reality, you just wanted to cause some drama.

Warnings: literally all fluff, and my shitty writing

Word Count: 706

A/N: woooo part 2 cause I couldn't help myself. also, im back from the dead! for a bit. i have midterms right now which are whooping my ass so... wish me luck!

Part 1

navigation  celebrities (romantic) masterlist

---

2,628,553 Likes

Y/N_Y/L/N: Sadly, after 1 ½  wonderful years, Jenna is not my girlfriend anymore. We are still on good terms, I promise, but I just thought I would let you guys know.

User57: WHAT?! THIS CANT BE REAL

User32: This is not happening. What the actual fuck.

y/n&jenna4life: No i refuse to believe this

arianagrande: I’m so sorry, Y/N/N!

jenniferlawrence_: dude that sucks! Hope you’re doing okay

>Y/N_Y/L/N: i’m okay, thank you for thinking of me

---

THIS IS NOT ANOTHER FALSE ALARM: ACTORS JENNA ORTEGA AND Y/N Y/L/N HAVE REPORTEDLY SPLIT

According to an instagram post Y/L/N posted last night, said actor and Wednesday star Jenna Ortega have split. A couple months ago, there was a false alarm in the end of the two’s relationship, caused by a hilarious dispute over a game of Monopoly. Well, this time, it seems that no one will be laughing. Ortega and Y/L/N are scheduled to be on The Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon tonight, so maybe they will provide some insight as to why the seemingly perfect couple has split. 

---

“You guys are on in 5!” A stage attendant calls into the dressing room, prompting you to stand up at the same time as Jenna. You grab her hand and bring it to your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to it. She smiles at you, blushing, before squeezing your hand and making her way out of the room. You follow closely after Jenna, excited to talk about your new movie with her. 

The introduction music begins to play, and you hear Jimmy Fallon calling out both your name and Jenna’s. Jenna walks out first, waving to the crowd, and you follow behind, buttoning your suit jacket and winking at some of the people in the  audience. 

As the two of you take a seat, Jimmy jumps right into the interview. He asks you questions about your roles, and just about the film in general. He also asks Jenna some questions about the second season of Wednesday. Finally, he gets to what he had been wanting to ask the most. 

“You guys were absolutely amazing in this film, but I have to say. It must have been difficult working together, at least for a little while.” Jenna gives him a confused look, and you fight the smile that is trying to make its way onto your face as best you can. “Why do you say that?” Jenna questions.

Jimmy gives her an odd look, explaining, “Well, because the two of you broke up, right? At least, according to Y/N’s Instagram post.” You still manage to keep a straight face, even when Jenna whips her head around towards you. “What the hell did you do, Y/N Y/L/N?!” 

You look around as if you can’t see her before turning back to Jimmy. “You know, sometimes I can still hear her, nagging me as if she were my girlfriend or something.” She finally breaks, letting out all of the laughter that she had been trying to hold in. Jimmy and the rest of the audience laugh with her, but they are clearly confused. 

Jenna rolls her eyes at you, ignoring your laughter. She turns to Jimmy to explain. “Ignore this little shit, they think they’re hilarious. So what happened is, Y/N is not my partner anymore.” Jimmy becomes even more confused, exclaiming, “So what is it?!” Jenna holds up her hand, revealing the glittering ring that you had purposed with only a short while ago. “They’re my fiance.” 

Jimmy gasps, not expecting this at all. “Oh my god! Congratulations!” You have finally recovered from your amusement, and you thank the man for his kind words. As soon as you fully sit up, Jenna smacks the back of your head. You wrap up the interview, and you and Jenna head home.

As you get ready for bed that night, Jenna turns to you. “You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” You just grin at her, replying, “But you love it. You love me.” Jenna can’t help but smile at you. “Fine. I do love you. So much.” She presses a kiss to your lips before heading into the bathroom. You just stand there in your room smiling. Life couldn’t get much better than this.

---

@lovelyy-moonlight @pnsteblnme @MrsLillithy @alotofpockets @theenglishswiftie @tundra1029 @ampitrit3 @didyoubringauntienat @jensortega813 @ortegalvr

Join my taglist!

[star-wrote]

Daryl and reader’s first summer together ? Mood board or headcanon or whatever you like babes 😏🫶 I picture they’ve been together for the fall and a very long harsh winter, and the summer comes around and readers energy just starts to burst in response to the warmth and sunlight, and how that might look for them as a couple 🌻💛😁

Summer Lovin’

ao3 link

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader | Pre-Prison Era/After Farm Fell

A/N: tysm for the request love !! i adored writing this <3 also i’ve found that i struggle with staying in tenses so this switches from past to present tense :/ whoops

Warnings: typical TWD violence, poor mental health, fluff, angst

Word Count: 750

not my character | images from pinterest

Winter in the apocalypse sucks.

The group had been on the road for months now, grieving the loss of the Greene Farm; the loss of safety. Which also means the group was going through the harsh winter without a whole lot of warmth. Abandoned shacks and small campfires can only do so much.

You had been cold for too long, and you were sure that Daryl had grown annoyed with you complaining about your frozen toes when you huddled up against him at night.

Worst of all was your mental health. Obviously there’s always an air of depression, (it is the end of the world) but your thoughts were getting dangerously close to “hey let’s jump off that bridge!”

You didn’t want to burden Daryl, but after his gentle prying, you reluctantly agreed to tell him your thoughts. He did his best to reassure you, and he held you a little tighter that night.

Finally, the group had found the prison, a place that could be a forever home after the walkers get cleared. The weather had warmed up too over the last few weeks, and it was finally starting to feel like summer.

It was a pretty calm day, most of the group decided to relax for a day outside before trying to get into the prison. You recall passing a pond not too far from the prison walls. Deciding it was warm enough for a swim, you grabbed a blanket and your knife.

“Where are ya goin’ with that?” Daryl stepped in front of you, nodding at the stuff in your hands.

“Swimming. Wanna come with? I need a bodyguard.” You suggest while smiling up at him.

He grunts out what you have come to know as “yes,” and grabs his crossbow. “Ya sure it’s warm enough?”

You shrug. “Don’t care, I’ve waited long enough.”

He must’ve read your mind because he leads you out past the walls and to the pond that you saw while traveling with the group. You both quickly survey the area for walkers, feeling relieved after there seem to be none.

You strip down to your underwear and toss a smirk over your shoulder to a blushing Daryl, then giggle and wade your way into the pond.

Taking a moment to pause, you admire the sun reflecting off the water. You felt so happy in the warmth of the sun that you could cry.

Daryl watches from a distance, smiling at the peace and happiness that seems to be radiating off of you. He knew you had a tough time on the road during the winter. He was worried about you, but now he’s just glad that you’re smiling.

You swim and float around the pond for about thirty minutes, and then decide that you want to lay on the grass to dry off in the sun. You sigh as the warm grass envelops you.

“Come join me?” You smiled up at Daryl who was sat on a rock.

“Thought I was yer bodyguard.” He said while walking over to you anyway. He found out a long time ago that he couldn’t handle denying you anything.

You giggle as he groans as he lays down next to you. You start to cuddle into him but he gently shoves you away.

“Yer soakin’ like a wet dog righ’ now, dry off first.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, but comply. While putting on your t-shirt, you spot a patch of wildflowers and gasp. You run over to them.

This makes Daryl sit up immediately and grab his knife, anxiety filling his veins. He then sees that you found flowers and relaxes.

Walking over to you, he scoffs. “Scared me half to death, girl.”

While you were smelling the flowers, Daryl crouched down and picked one. He gently moved your hair out of your face and tucked the flower behind your ear. You blush and kiss his cheek.

“I’m glad yer feelin’ better. Was worried ‘bout ya.” He looked away for a moment, then back into your eyes. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

You felt your heart flutter. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

You hugged him tight and stayed like that for a while. You started to hum a song and swayed in his arms.

Daryl scoffs and loosens up so you can sway his body for him. “Whatcha doin’ girl?”

“Dancing with you, duh.”

He smiles and tucks his head into your hair. “Please never stop bein’ you, sunshine.”

[yourmomxx]

Sweet Child O’ Mine

father of mine masterlist

summary: It’s time for Dean to face what he has been so afraid of the entire time. Meanwhile, the monster that has already taken one young man’s life, is on its way to claim the next one

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, throwing up, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 11,2k (whoops)

disclaimer: What I know about Group Homes is what I know from my country (and Google), so I apologize if I made any mistakes

pt1 pt2 pt3

@psycho-magnotheric-slime

Now

The cafeteria was loud. The mixed noise of talking children and clattering dishes and cutlery filled the air, creating a yet bearable loudness.

You were sat at one of the light blue tables, across from you your best friends Cassandra Claire and Finnegan Beckett.

Cass and Finn.

She was lowly cursing at the paper straw in her apple juice box and a few strands of her black bangs slipped into her view. The wolf cut, which had been so present a few months ago, was now already grown out and even the shortest strands of Cass’s hair were reaching her shoulders.

Finn seemed caught up in his own world as he carefully laid out little figures and symbols with his french fries. He still had a few, slightly red acne spots lingering on his skin, amongst freckles covering his nose and cheeks. His hair was flaming red, just as Roy’s had been, but other than him Finn usually hid the tousled locks under a cap.

Roy. The news of his death had hit the three of you hard. You had been a friendgroup of four, Roy and Finn, and Cass and you.

Almost a week ago you had been eating lunch at this exact table, the seat to your right had been taken, laughing about terrible jokes, bickering, and not even considering it all to end as soon as it did.

And especially how it did.

Roy’s body was still lying at the morgue. The authorities had kept it there for ‘further investigation purposes’ as they had said, so no funeral had been possible yet.

Of course, the adults had introduced all of you to helping hotlines and offered their own support in case anyone wanted to talk about their feelings and their grief in the safeness of a closed room.

Not that one of you took that into consideration.

The only way you three were coping with the whole situation was through joking around and pretending none of it ever happened. Which was fine.

You and Cass had sometimes talked in the darkness of your rooms, careful and short conversations while sleeping over because neither of you wanted to spend the night alone.

But other than that? Zero. And it was alright that way. The right moment would come.

Maybe.

“Aha!” Cass suddenly yelled out triumphantly, and startled Finn out of admiring his artwork.

You looked up at her from half-heartedly poking around in your own food, as she proudly held up the apple juice that was now pierced with what looked like the abused version of a thin straw.

You gave a small clap. “Bravo” and she grinned at you before turning to Finn.

Well done, Cassie,” he sarcastically said. “You won the hard fight against the opening of a box of apple juice.”

Cass pouted and took a sip. “You don’t appreciate my victories enough, Finn. And don't call me that. Cassie.” She dramatically shuddered at the nickname.

“I’m mentally unstable, not five.”

Finn examined her perfectly done eyeliner and makeup with skeptically raised eyebrows. “You don’t look mentally unstable to me,” he remarked.

Cass gasped. “Excuse me? Prejudices??” She exclaimed.

“You see that?” She asked, frantically pointing at her face. “See how perfect my makeup is today? That's not a good thing, dumbass! Perfect makeup means that I am absolutely mentally fucked!”

You nodded supportively, and Finn just raised his eyebrows, before he dedicated his attention back to poking around in his food.

“Don't you think that's kind of ironic?” He pointed out, and Cass simply ignored him, except for the tiny eye roll she gave.

“Guys, I need your help deciding what color I'm going to dye my hair next,” she changed the topic instead and desperately ran her hands through her hair.

Finn’s head whipped around, back to his friend. “You're honestly thinking about dying your hair right now?” He asked incredulously.

She groaned and threw him a look.

“No, Finnegan, I am not actively thinking about dying my hair, but I sense a mental breakdown coming and if I'm going to absolutely lose my shit and take it out on my hair, I want the result to look good. Otherwise, we are met with that weird yellow-green-combination again.” Cass let her body shudder dramatically.

“I liked the yellow-green-combination,” you interjected.

Cass reached over the table to lay her hand above yours and looked up at you with sweet eyes. “Thanks, hun.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” mumbled Finn, his mouth stuffed full of fries. “Just leave them black.”

“I don’t think you quite understood how a mental breakdown works, man,” you said.

Finn shrugged and dipped a frie into his ketchup. “Whatever.”

You looked at Cass. “I’ll go shopping with you soon and then we will choose a color together,” you promised.

“Thanks,” she said and eyed Finn, “at least someone who cares if I ruin my good looks or not.”

But Finn didn’t hear her, or maybe he just ignored what she was saying. Because he changed the topic.

“Did the FBI agents get a hold of you guys yet?” He suddenly asked.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. “The what?”

“The FBI agents,” Finn repeated.

“Why, thank you, I got that part, but what is the FBI doing here?”

Cass just shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently they are here investigating Roy's murder.”

“What, they think someone murdered him?” You asked in disbelief.

“Well, he will not have crushed his ribs all on his own now, will he?” Finn drew a heart shape with the remaining ketchup on the plate.

“It's better than the state police,” retorted Cass, “who still think that it was some kind of ... animal attack.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right, because a bear sneaking into a castle, pushing down on someone's chest and then just leaving seems so plausible.”

Your friends raised their eyebrows in agreement.

“What did they ask you guys?” You closed your waterbottle and absentmindedly started cleaning up your plate.

Cass shrugged and leaned back in her chair with crossed arms. “Not much, the usual, I guess,” she answered, “Wanted me to tell them some things about Roy, his behavior lately, who would have wanted to hurt him…” She trailed off.

“Same here. Routine stuff,” Finn said. Then he leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice.

“To be honest, I don't really care why they're here, they are both incredibly handsome.”

“Finn!” You and Cassandra exclaimed at the same time.

“What?!” The boy widened his arms in defense. “Let me enjoy the one good thing that came from Roy's death.”

Cass shoved him in response. “God, you are a manwhore!” She grumbled.

Finn rubbed his arm with an offended pout on his lips and you giggled. “Geez, we must seem so fucked up, our best friend got murdered and here we are, joking about his death.” You shook your head lightly.

“It's what he would have wanted.” Cass scooted a bit closer on her seat and took both yours and Finn’s hand in acted solemnity.

“If I die,” she vowed, “you are now officially allowed to joke about my death as much as you want. On any occasion.”

“Sick!” You called out and Cass smirked.

“Can we please get back to the part where she said if?” Finn pointed out.

Cass rolled her eyes and pulled back.

“I'm a witch, after all,” she reminded him with a threatening silken voice that had a tone of mockery. “And one day, I will figure out the secret of necromancy, just you wait.”

Finn scoffed and grinned. “Right, you with your crystals, and your smokey sticks and your herbs and tarot cards.”

He wiggled his fingers in front of her face. “That's some real serious stuff you got there, Cass.”

She pushed him away. “Yeah, keep making fun of it. We'll see who has the last laugh when I turn immortal and outlive all of you idiots.”

Finn shook his head. He looked at you and pointed his forefinger to his temple, moving it in circles to indicate what he held of her words.

You shook your head grinning, and Cass, who noticed the interaction, promptly took Finn’s sugar-glazed donut and dumped it in his untouched mayonnaise.

"Ew! Jesus, Cass, you are disgusting!" Finn yelled as he stared at the disaster.

She just shrugged and was quick to eat her own food before he would get any ideas.

For a while, it was quiet. You continued cleaning and sorting your lunch plate, while Cass ate and Finn and her did not speak a word to each other.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just a break from conversation.

Eventually, Cass was the one to break it.

“So, uhm, did you guys, like - I mean, have you been thinking about Roy, too? Or, like, dreaming or something?” With every word her voice got more quiet until it was only a low mumble, drifting apart in the busy noise around.

But still everything she said managed to pierce through the air and directly into your heart.

“Why would you bring that up?” Finn asked through gritted teeth, he almost sounded mad.

Cass avoided eye contact with both of you and pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead, as if to stop it from giving her incredible pain.

“I’ve been having those horrible nightmares, since it happened,” she sighed in despair.

“It’s the same thing over and over again. I see something going into his room, but when I try to open the door, it’s locked. And I hit it, and I scream, but there’s just no sound coming out of my mouth. And when the door finally opens, there he is, lying on the bed, just-”

A heavy clatter interrupted her monologue and made you flinch. Finn had thrown his fork onto his dinner plate.

“Didn’t ask about fucking details, Cassandra,” he hissed lowly, stood up and walked away with his tray in hand.

Cass looked after him as he left and put her head in her hands with a groan.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” she mumbled into the fabric of her sleeve.

“I know,” you said. She raised her head. You gave her a sympathetic smile.

“D’you think he hates me now?”

You shook your head no. “He’s just grieving. We all are. He will get himself together again, promise.”

For a second, her lips quirked up in a small smile.

“Come on,” you said then and swung your leg over the bench, standing up. “We’ve been sitting here for far too long anyways.”

You took your tray and Cass was quick to follow you and put the dirty dishes away.

“I didn’t have any, by the way.” Confused, she looked at you.

“Nightmares,” you added.

Cass nodded. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll deal with this the same way I deal with everything: completely and utterly alone.”

You jokingly shoved her at her theatrics, and she grinned. “Shut up. I’ll be damned if I let you deal with any of this on your own. Got me?”

She laid a hand upon her heart and the other on your shoulder. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “And I suppose that also includes helping me study for my biology exam which I have definitely already studied for?”

You pulled back and inhaled sharply, pretending to think. “Ah ma’am, I am afraid this feature is not included in your subscription. We apologize for any discomfort this may bring.”

“It brings a great deal of discomfort!” Cass exclaimed while you two walked the hallway to your rooms.

“You can write me an email-complaint,” you joked. “No guarantees though. You’ve had like two weeks to study for that one.”

“I know, I know, but it’s so endlessly boring and complicated!” she cried.

You shrugged. “There’s a reason I didn’t take the AP class.”

“And I will forever envy you for it.”

You stopped when you reached the two doors to your bedrooms that laid right across of each other.

“Then,” you said and bowed lightly, “farewell my friend. May your head not explode while rehearsing for the terribly difficult school subject that is AP biology.”

She flipped you off and disappeared into her room. Laughing to yourself, you opened the door and slipped into your own.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Central Nebraska 2007

The past few hunting days had been rough. Sam and Dean had driven from one case to the next without a break, been beaten up by an entire pack of werewolves and hunted down a loose chupacabra outside of its usual territory.

Dean was beyond exhausted. His muscles ached, his head was pounding, and the lack of sleep was weighing his limbs down. He was practically dragging himself over the gravel path, before he swung open the door to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

The air that hit them from inside was stuffy, warm, and smelt like sweat and alcohol. Low but loud enough music fell into an uncoordinated melody with loud chatter and the clinking of glass.

Dean felt like he had never experienced something more beautiful, after the weeks he’s had.

“Deeeeeannnn!”

He heard the excited cry of his name before he saw where it came from. He spotted a bright sundress on a small girl, and out of instinct crouched down as she sped towards him.

With a grunt, Dean picked her up in his arms mid sprint and lifted her up. Behind him, Sam closed the door again as Dean made his way over to the bar with little Y/N on his hip.

“How is my favorite girl today?” He asked her and she grinned at him.

“I’m good! I missed you,” she added.

Dean’s chest clammed with how much he loved her.

“Well, I’m back now, ready to give you allllll my attention. Come on, show me those fangs.” He nodded his head at her chin at his request, and Y/N drew her lips back and bared her teeth to him.

Dean held the hand that wasn’t holding her in front of his eyes and pretended to be blinded. “Wow, those are clean! I can’t even see anything.”

With a giggle, Y/N closed her mouth again and Dean blinked hard a few times.

“I brush them extra hard. Ask Auntie Ellen.”

Dean nodded. “I totally believe you. Every werewolf would be jealous of those teeth. Oh, did I say werewolf? I meant vampire, of course.”

Dean shook his head at himself, and Y/N beamed up at him with the brightest shining eyes he had ever seen.

“Good to see you again, boys,” Ellen greeted them and pulled out two glasses. “The usual?”

Sam and Dean nodded. Ellen started pouring. When Sam took his drink, he pointed somewhere in the back of the bar and said, “I’ll go have a talk with Ash.” Then he was gone.

Dean placed Y/N on one of the bar stools and took his seat next to her.

“Dean, can you play Operation with me?” Y/N asked him, and Dean stilled in his movement to take a sip of his drink. He opened his mouth to answer her, but Ellen was faster.

“Baby, let Dean rest for a bit. I’m sure these past few days haven’t been all sugar and cakes for him. Maybe later, alright?”

Y/N pouted a bit, but then shrugged and shuffled off the barstool. “Okay,” she said, and disappeared between the people, probably to the private rooms.

Dean looked after her and then turned back to Ellen with a thankful look on his face.

“Can’t believe that game is still so popular. I mean, I used to play with that in my childhood,” he said, and took a sip from his drink. The alcohol burned a bit down his throat, but it was exactly what he needed right now. Dean closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively.

“Really glad you’re back,” Ellen then told him honestly, as she opened up a beer for herself and folded her arms on the counter. “She’s been asking me nothing else than ‘When will Dean come back’ for the past few weeks. I can’t hear that sentence anymore.”

Dean chuckled and she took a sip.

“Yeah,” he dragged, and threw a look in the direction that Y/N had disappeared in. Ellen tilted her head and gave him a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You’re really good with her, ya know?” She twirled the bottle loosely on the counter. Dean avoided her inquiring gaze and looked into the liquor in his glass instead. He vaguely saw his reflection in it.

“’ve always been good with kids, I guess.” He shrugged it off.

Ellen hummed. Dean didn’t know what to make of it. He looked up at her again.

“For what it’s worth, she makes it really easy,” he said. Ellen raised her eyebrows. “To lo- to like her, I mean. She’s a great kid. You did good with her.”

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, I like to think I did. Wasn’t always easy.”

Dean nodded. A bit after they had met, Ellen had vaguely told him how she got to Y/N. How someone had just dumped the little girl, barely one year old, on her doorstep. No note, only a name and date of birth, and a blanket in the basket she had been put in.

When he had first heard the story, Dean’s hand had cramped around his beer bottle so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Stories like this about kids always got to him. But about this one? Hell, the lengths he would go to protect that little girl. She had made her way into his heart so easily, no preparation or caution, just boosted right into it with her bright smile and those happy eyes.

And Dean had never spent a day not wanting to know her.

Sometimes, when he thought about it, he thought about how easy it was. To love a kid. She wasn’t even his, but every time he had to say goodbye to her for God knows how long again, his heart broke a little more.

And he thought about how it was that easy, and how yet, somehow his father had not managed it. Had left his children alone, abandoned, in ran down motel rooms, without any contact for days and sometimes weeks. How he had felt absent, even when he was physically present, and how Dean could never do enough to feel enough for him.

It made him ache, but he had promised himself to never make anyone else feel this way. And maybe, just maybe, this little wonder he had come across was supposed to be his salvation.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.”

Somehow, the way Ellen said it, made Dean stiffen. A strange mixture of regret and hurt crossed her exes.

“It’s about your daddy,” she added.

“And about Y/N.”

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

If Sam had tried to read the different emotions that were crossing his older brother’s face right now, he would have given up as soon as he had started.

But one thing was certain, they were many, and probably none of them were good.

They stood in front of the wooden door to their last room.

Your room, to be exact.

And they stood there for the second time today, to be exact.

Maria had pointed them the numbers of the bedrooms where Roy Kendall’s friends lived, they had paid each of them a visit and asked them questions about the deceased.

None of those interrogations had proven to be useful to them, though.

Also, funny enough, it turns out that Cassandra Claire and Y/N Winchester’s room happened to lay just across the hallway from each other.

But when Sam offered to move on to her after finishing Cassandra’s questioning, Dean had not-so-smoothly avoided his question and decided he was in desperate need of some lunch.

Which is why, now, they were standing here, staring at the old wooden door with filled stomachs and angel Castiel in tow - who had decided to join them after all.

Said angel now leaned in closer to Sam and not so silently whispered, “Is he- frozen? Shall I wake him?”

Dean snorted and shook his head, as if Castiel’s words had actually woken him up from the sort of trance he had been trapped in.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, still talking into the direction of the - apparently very intimidating – wooden door.

Sam raised his eyebrows, fully aware that his brother couldn’t see him. “Well then,” he said, extending his hand to the door. “Knock.”

Dean threw a murdering look over his shoulder at his little brother and took a deep breath in, shook his shoulders.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this had to be difficult for Dean, but he also wanted to get all of this over with. He could think of more fun things than spending his entire day in an orphanage, investigating a murder. Also, his suit was starting to get itchy.

The sound of Dean knocking at the door felt like a salvation. “Agents Shield and Stark and …” He threw Cas a look, “… Miller. We’re here to ask you some questions about the death of Roy Kendall.”

For a second, it was quiet. Then, “It’s open.”

The voice from inside made a chill run down Sam’s spine. He couldn’t imagine what his brother felt. But even if Dean was falling apart inside, he didn’t let his face show any of it.

Dean’s heart twisted with the door handle, as he pushed the door open and entered into the room. After him, Sam and Castiel entered, and Dean closed the door behind them again.

The room wasn’t big, but it had been decorated to be comfortable. In the middle of the wall to their right, a twin-sized bed with unified colors was placed, a small bedside table next to it.

To their left was a tall wardrobe that almost reached the ceiling, and under the window on the wall opposite them stood a nice desk.

And there, shuffling through some papers, stood a young teenage girl, with her back turned to them.

“Sorry about the mess, I-“ Dean’s heart skipped a beat as you turned around.

You hadn’t changed, not a bit, but had grown so much. The roundness in your features, like with all children, had gone away as you grew older. You had changed your hair, and your voice was different, but it was so unmistakably you that Dean needed a second to catch himself.

He feared his feet would buckle under him, as you looked at him with wide open eyes, those eyes that he remembered looked so much like your mother’s.

You felt your whole world tumble around you as you looked at them. At him. Your heart was speeding in your chest, a feeling spreading in your stomach as if you had been sucker punched.

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. But then again, there was no reason why it wouldn’t be. There were more epic scenarios you could have come up with to reunite with your … family. And nevertheless, you had stopped having dreams like that a long time ago. You had given up on hoping a day like this would come.

But now it was here, apparently, and it was so unspectacular, it was almost funny.

They walked in here, after years, in fancy suits and badges, wanting to know about- what exactly was it they wanted to know about?

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, gathering yourself.

“What are you doing here?” Compared to the chaos inside of you, your voice sounded calm and collected, almost devoid of any emotion, and a part of you was proud.

Sam cleared his throat. You noticed he looked older.

Well, no shit. But more … drawn, from his experience. Trauma, maybe. You hadn’t been aware of much when you were a child, but that their work took a toll on them, that had been unmistaken.

And Sam’s eyes held a story that seemed as tragic as it seemed muddled.

“We heard about Roy Kendall’s death,” he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. They had heard about Roy. Did that mean they were here to-

“And we’re here to find out what killed him.”

What?

“What?”

“Yeah, we, uh-“ Sam shifted his weight awkwardly, “We don’t think it was a … natural death.”

“Well, no shit.” Roy’s chest had been cracked open. You were no coroner, but even you knew that couldn’t exactly be filed under the case of natural deaths.

Now, Dean took a small step forward, trying his best to hold eye contact with you, and your shoulders subconsciously stiffened.

“Y/N-,” he started.

“Dean,” you shot back.

And that wort was like a punch in his guts. Dean felt physically sick. But how could he expect any different really?

You noticed him stumbling slightly at the word, a look of hurt crossing over his face.

Good, you thought.

A part of you wanted to hit him in the chest, scream at him until your voice was raw, Why did you do this? Why did you leave me? When did you stop loving me?

But in the end, you didn’t.

You would rather die than give him the satisfaction of breaking down.

Why you thought he would feel satisfaction at your hurt, you didn’t know.

“So, Roy,” you simply said, something to break the pressing silence in the room.

Sam nodded. “Yes, exactly. We, uhm –“ He pointed to the third man you had never seen before, “and Castiel, we wanted to ask you a few things about him.”

You glanced at the guy in the trenchcoat, who raised his hand to do an awkward little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“Too,” you said.

There was a silence again, until Dean took the floor. “So, he was one of your friends?” He asked, “That Roy kid?”

People had been doing it for days, yet something about them talking about one of your best friends in the past tense made your stomach turn with uneasiness.

You hummed in agreement.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam said.

“Stick it,” you bit back, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Did your friend mention anything … out of the ordinary happen, before he was killed?” The third guy, with the trenchcoat and the weird name which you had already forgotten, asked.

You clenched your jaw and something about the way Dean pressed his eyes shut in exasperation made you believe that this guy’s bluntness was something quite common.

“No,” you simply said. Trenchcoat frowned.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, taking a slight step forward.

“Yes, I am. Roy never said anything about anything strange that would be in any way valuable to your case.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean questioned.

You shrugged. “What I said.”

“Y/N, any information you can give us about Roy’s behavior before he died is extremely important and could really help us,” Sam urged.

Something about the way your name slipped off his tongue, with that sense of familiarity and normal, made your skin itch.

You took a deep breath and cleared your throat. “Well, I mean - he just mentioned that he was having those … terrible nightmares all of a sudden.” You shrugged. “Like I said, nothing that would be worth writing down.”

Sam did it anyways.

Dean tilted his head and looked at you quizzically. “Why would you think his nightmares were unusual? I mean, everyone has bad dreams from time to time.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just …” You paused. This was stupid. “It’s stupid, really, but – Roy doesn’t usually dream.”

Didn’t, you corrected in your head, but the word didn’t make it past your lips.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“And it was just strange, because he was having these nightmares frequently, or rather this nightmare, because it was always the exact same,” you keep rambling on.

“What was it about?” Dean asked.

You swept your hand across your forehead. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk much about it. Just said that it was like the worst day of his life replaying over and over.”

Dean nodded. Sam frowned in interest.

“Do you know what that was? The worst day of his life?”

You shrugged. “The day he lost his parents, probably,” you said. “The entire house burnt down right in front of him. He made it out, they didn’t.”

Your voice was quiet and pressed, still feeling bad about sharing such an intimate part of Roy’s history with those … strangers. A nagging part in the back of your mind kept telling you he wouldn’t – couldn’t – mind anymore.

Sam’s pen kept scraping over his notebook, and Dean threw a glimpse over his brother’s shoulder. As you watched them, your gaze fell on trenchcoat-guy, who was still positioned in the corner of your room, just a few steps behind them.

He was observing you with interest, blue eyes staring back into yours as if he was looking directly at your soul. Something like a chill ran down your spine.

The man tilted his head, as you diverted your attention back to Dean and Sam. His brows were furrowed.

Cas recognized you. He didn’t know where from, but you looked so weirdly … familiar. Your features, the shape of your face. They way you talked and moved.

“Your boyfriend is staring at me weirdly,” you mentioned to Dean, as you caught the man’s gaze again.

Dean turned his head and looked at him, then back to you. “Yeah, he tends to do that.”

You lifted your eyebrows and made an ‘Ah’ sound. Trenchcoat was getting weirder by the second. But at least the guy had stopped his creepy staring. For now.

“Look, I don’t want you guys here. But I understand that your presence is necessary in order to catch whatever it is that’s killing my friends. So, you just do your thing, look around a bit, kill something, and then leave. Both of you.”

With a look at the third guy in the trenchcoat, you added, “Three.”

Dean avoided your eyes, but Sam nodded jerkily and cleared his throat again. “Yeah, we uh … we understand that.”

He straightened his coat and turned to leave the room. “Thank you for your help for now, really. We’ll get in touch if we need anything else.”

You nodded simply, even though you didn’t exactly know what to make of that idea.

As Sam and trenchcoat-guy made their way to leave the room, Dean took a small step towards you and pulled something out of his suit jacket.

“And if there’s anything else you might remember or see, you can always give us a call.” You stared at the small paper he had handed to you. With dark blue pen, a phone number was sloppily scribbled on it. The edges of the paper were uneven, it had probably been ripped off a bigger sheet.

You pursed your lips and nodded.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say. Thank you wasn’t really in the cards right now. Dean cleared his throat and stepped back with a nod. Then, they left the room one by one.

“Have a nice day,” Sam said.

“You, too.” The answer came automatically. The door closed behind them with a click, and you were alone again.

The small paper suddenly felt incredibly heavy in your hand.

—

When Dean stepped through the threshold and out into the hallway, he felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. He took a deep breath like a man starved.

The sick feeling in his stomach still lingered.

He didn’t even wait for the click of the closing door before he started making his way to the exit, trusting that his brother and Castiel would follow.

His fast steps echoed over the hallway, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder yank him around. Dean was staring into the eyes of his younger brother. He shook his arm to let Sam’s hand harshly fall off.

“What?”

Sam didn’t say anything, and Dean just glared at him. It was Castiel who spoke up first. His head was tilted, eyebrows scrunched, and a curious tone in his voice.

“She is your … daughter.” It wasn’t a question. Cas had figured out the root of all of Dean’s hesitation – to come here, to stay here, to investigate. All because of one person, that he knew was so close to Dean Winchester, but yet way too far than two people with their natural bond should be.

“What gave it away?” Dean turned to Cas. His tone was bitter. “The attitude or the way she hates my guts?”

Castiel looked him up and down.

“She is so similar to you,” he stated matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Dean’s sarcastic response.

Dean exchanged an annoyed look with his little brother, who simply shrugged.

“All right, now that we’ve cleared that up,” Dean gruffed and made his way down the hallway again, “Let’s go.”

He trusted that the others followed him quietly.

When they reached the gravel path that led from the small castle to their car, Sam picked up his pace to catch up with his older brother. “Dean, I’ve been thinking.”

The man scoffed. “Oh, don’t hurt yourself like that, Sammy.”

“I’m serious.” Sam halted next to his brother and pulled him to a stop with a firm hand on his shoulder. “And I think, maybe… we should sit this one out.”

The way Sam said the last bit was careful, and Dean tilted his head as he turned to his younger brother. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, maybe this case is too personal for us, Dean. Maybe we should let some other hunter take care of it.”

Dean shook his head. “No way. This is the first time in years that I get to see my daughter, I will not just throw this away.” He lifted his index finger to point it at his brother.

“Well, what exactly is it that you want to do, Dean? It’s not like the two of you have the strongest father-daughter bond!” Sam scoffed and his arms in the air.

Dean started walking towards the impala again. “I know, and that’s why I want to make things right with her.”

“What for, Dean? Just so we leave her here, again?”

"I don’t know!” Dean whirled around in fury as he yelled the words. He slumped his shoulders.

“I don’t know, okay?” He said, his voice was smaller now. “Look, let’s just … let’s finish this case. Give me some time to figure things out and then we will decide.” Dean peeled himself out of his suit jacket and tossed it in the backseat of the impala. He slammed the door. “But first, let’s save some lives.”

Sam shook his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.” He matched Dean as he opened the door to the back and tossed his jacket on the leather seats.

“By the way, where’s Cas?”

Sam threw a look around them. He was right, the angel was nowhere to be found. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he zapped to the motel again.”

Dean frowned as he pulled open the front door. The hinges squealed. “We need to have a serious talk with him about that. Can’t have him disappearing on me the entire time.”

Sam frowned. Dean meant them, right? Couldn’t have him disappearing on them the entire time. Us.

Right?

Sam decided to shrug his brother’s strange comment off for now and got in the passenger’s seat.

“We have to go there anyways. Do some research,” he said.

Dean hummed and started the car. Sam could about assume what that meant. The gravel gnarled under the Impala’s tires as they drove off.

—

Back alone in your room again, you sat on your desk chair as your playlist of favorite songs blasted through your headphones. Dark ink started covering your thighs, where you were drawing on them with your pen as you had placed them on the surface of the desk.

The past few minutes, your mind had been insanely occupied with processing what the actual fuck had just happened. Because. Well. What the actual fuck had just happened?

When they had knocked on your door, you had expected the normal questioning, something that Cass and Finn had been talking about anyways.

When you turned around, just to stare at the face of Dean Winchester, your mind had gone fully devoid of every thought ever formed.

The typical “heart slipping into your pants.”

It felt as if you had worked on autopilot, not even coherently remembering what you had said to them. Had your reaction been an appropriate one? After years of imagining this exact scenario, in all ways and forms it could’ve played out, you not being able to form a simple sentence had not been one of them.

In afterthought, maybe you should’ve punched Dean.

Maybe that would’ve been the appropriate response.

The sharp sound of a knock at your door made you startle. You pulled your headphones off your ears and turned the music off. Those things were great, but in all those years they had never quite managed to overpower the sounds around you.

Maybe that was why you were still allowed to wear them all the time.

“Who’s there?” You asked loudly into the room.

“Me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The fuck? How was there not a single normal person knocking on your bedroom door today?

“Who is me?” You asked again.

The door opened just the tiniest bit, creaking in the process, and through peeked the head of the third man that had accompanied Sam and Dean earlier.

Trenchcoat guy.

“It’s me,” he repeated.

You frowned. “Uhm - come in?” You invited him and lifted your feet off the table.

Trenchcoat guy carefully shuffled in through the gap in the door until he stood in your room, awkwardly, and his stiff posture made him look so out of place, it was almost funny.

When he didn’t seem to plan on doing anything more than eyeing the bookshelf on the other wall, you decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry, but I think I forgot your name.”

Slowly, he turned his attention back to you, as if he had now just remembered that you were there. “I’m Castiel,” he answered in a deep, gravelly voice.

You raised your eyebrows. “Ah. Right.” Another beat of silence. “Are you, like - Dean’s boyfriend or something?” You asked.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head. “Me and your father are not romantically involved in any way whatsoever,” he reassured you.

“Ah,” you said again. Then, “Did Dean send you?”

Castiel shook his head, almost offended at the implication. “After our … conversation, earlier, he figured you were not too enthusiastic to see him. That is why only I am here.”

You swallowed hard. No, that wasn’t true.

“He’s damn right.”

Castiel nodded.

Then it was quiet again. “Is there … anything you need?” You dragged out, unsure of what he was planning to do in here exactly.

“Well, no, not specifically, I just - wanted to talk to you,” Castiel said, though he seemed not too secure about his purpose himself. “About your father.”

“Dean,” you corrected, but were sure Castiel didn’t miss how your shoulders stiffened at it. The man in the trenchcoat frowned and dipped his head lightly.

“Yes, your father.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “He’s not my father. He’s just Dean.”

“As I understand it, you were conceived through him and your mother having sexual intercourse, therefore-“

“Okay! Thank you,” you interrupted him and raised your hand to sign stop. “What do you want?”

Castiel took a few steps closer to you, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as he seemed to look for the right words.

“I fear your father- Dean,” he corrected himself with a look in your direction, “does feel very bad about what happened between you and him.”

You pursed your lips. “So? Did he tell you that?”

Castiel looked sheepish. “No,” he answered honestly, “But I know your- him. Just because he does not like to talk about his feelings does not mean that he does not feel them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let me ask you something, Castiel,” you said. He nodded. “Anything.”

“Do you know at all what happened? Between me and him?”

Again, Castiel looked away. You did not know this man. You did not know what his history with Dean was, or with Sam. But you knew that he knew nothing.

“No.” That one word confirmed it.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Then - excuse my choice of words - but you have no room to talk. And if Dean wants to tell me something, he can always do that himself. In person. He’s here anyway.”

Castiel nodded. “Alright.”

It was silent again, between you and him, until Castiel took in a sharp breath and leaned forward into something close to a bow.

“I’m sure they await me,” he explained. “Goodbye, Y/N.” He then turned around to open the door, but paused mid his action.

“You do look a lot like him, you know?” He said.

That’s it.

“Out,” you ordered him harshly and Castiel walked through the door, closing it behind him.

—

You had, in fact, ended up helping Cass study for her upcoming exam. Well, what means help, you had asked her questions and she had to answer them correctly - which worked expectedly not so well.

“I can just play the dead friend card,” she had joked, but you knew that she was actually actively considering it.

In that moment though, you had just skipped over her remark and continued asking her about the digestive system of a Baird’s beaked whale.

It was already late at night when the two of you finally hugged goodbye.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You helped a lot. I’ll forget it all until tomorrow morning, but I do appreciate your effort.”

You smiled at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll nail it. Or at least not fail.”

She laughed. “You think too highly of me, Y/N.”

For a few moments, nobody said a word. “I never asked you,” Cass eventually started, “are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and shifted your weight. “Considering the circumstances, I guess. You?”

“Same thing,” she said. You laid your head back and stared at the ceiling. “It still feels weird only being three people,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Cass agreed quietly.

A few beats of silence passed, until you got yourself back together and shook your body as if to shake off your grief.

“But whatever,” you sighed. “Can’t change that now, can we?”

You looked at Cass and she hummed with a dull shrug, seeming lost in her own thoughts.

She absentmindedly opened her bedroom door, but just as she wanted to disappear into the room, you grabbed her arm to stop her for a second.

“By the way, about your nightmares,” you said, “maybe you can take some pills against that, if it gets too much. Unregulated sleep is probably worse than no sleep.”

Cass managed a tired smile. “Will try, thanks. Goodnight babes, love you,” she threw you a kiss.

“Love you too, good night,” you said back and smiled at her, waiting until she closed the door to enter your own room.

—

You didn’t know what woke you up. The glowing numbers of the digital clock on your nightstand showed it to be somewhere around half past three. Really not your usual wake-up time.

Just as you rolled around in your sheets to get your missing hours of sleep in, you heard strange shuffling outside your door. Perking up, you realized it sounded like the overlapping chatter of voices, and shoes pounding over the smooth floor.

Yeah, no way you would be going back to sleep now.

Especially not with the uncomfortable feeling that had settled into your stomach.

Stumbling a bit, your joints not quite awake yet, you trutted over to your door and creaked it open slightly.

The white light burned your eyes at the start, as you slipped out of your room and were met with the sight of multiple people fussing around not that far away.

The uneasy feeling only got worse, as you realized two things at once: The people were first responders, firefighters, to be exact. And they were all gathered around the open door across the hallway to yours.

Cass.

You moved on autopilot, as your feet carried you closer to the scene, eyes not leaving the gaping black hole that was the entrance to your best friend’s room.

“What happened?” You asked the closest paramedic next to you, a young man with brown hair and dark gear. It didn’t help much, because his voice faded out into the back of your head, as movement began to settle over the group.

The paramedic gestured his hands, as he talked to you, though that was not at all what had grabbed your attention.

You could only look at her, as she was lying sprawled out on the stretcher that was being wheeled out of her bedroom.

Cass.

But it wasn’t Cass, it couldn’t be. Dark grey plastic was wrapped around her body, covering her features as one of the firefighters that pushed the gurney zipped the material closed.

A body bag.

You felt bile rise into your throat.

Who put a seventeen-year-old in a body bag?

She wasn’t supposed to be there. What was she doing in there.

She had a biology exam tomorrow. She was supposed to join you at breakfast. In just a few hours. She was supposed to still lay in her bed and sleep, fast and sound.

Lay in her bed. Not on a moving gurney. Her bed.

You had laid in that bed. Just a few hours before.

The exam.

Breakfast.

Dark grey plastic.

Body Bag. A body. Dead. A dead body.

Dead. Dead. Gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Dead.

Like a distant echo, you still vaguely registered the young paramedic talking to you; he came to an abrupt stop when you bent over and threw up on his shoes.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Sioux Falls 2009

The soft music that sounded through Grandpa Bobby’s old house reminded you of Auntie Ellen’s Roadhouse.

It made you a bit homesick, but for a while now, whenever you asked Dad if you could go there again, he just shook his head and said that it wasn’t possible.

That’s also the reason why you’d been living with Grandpa Bobby for very long now, he had told you.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came to visit sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. But you saw Dad much more often, and you liked that. You missed him whenever he went out and saved people.

Grandpa Bobby had told you that it was very important, what Dad and Uncle Sam did. That’s why you never complained when they stayed away for long.

Grandpa Bobby said they saved lives. Like firemen, he said. Or Sheriff Jody.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came over for a visit today. Dad had said that they were here to help him and Uncle Sam take care of something, that’s why they had to leave later.

Jo was playing your favorite boardgame with you. You had missed her. She was still very pretty. You knew your Dad thought that too.

“Alright,” Dad said, walking through the threshold that connected Grandpa Bobby’s workroom and the dinner table where you and Jo were currently playing. “It’s time to get this little Lady to sleep.”

You pouted at him.

“But Dad, I still want to stay up and play with Jo!”

Dad raised his eyebrows and threw a pointing look at his watch.

“It is already way past your bedtime, kiddo. And I heard tomorrow is a big school day?”

He was right. Tomorrow, you started your first singing lessons with all your bestest friends. Not all of them as best friends as Jo was, though.

Your shoulders slumped.

“Can I at least say Goodbye to you?”

Dean’s gaze went soft as he looked at you. He knew how hard this was for you, how he left all the time and came back for only such short periods. But he wanted to make this a better world for you to grow up in. And when all of this was over, and it would be tonight, hopefully, then he would allow himself to settle down and spend all the time he could give with you.

“Of course you can, my little love.”

Dad crouched down and lifted you up into his arms.

“Dean, Jo!” Came Auntie Ellen’s voice from the study, “We’re ready!”

Dad threw you a mysterious look as he stepped into Grandpa Bobby’s workspace, where he and Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam already stood lined up.

You noticed the camera set up on a strange construction.

Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam smiled when they saw you.

“You don’t mind a small addition, do you, Ellen?” Dad asked, and Auntie Ellen shook her head.

“Of course not!” She smiled, and made space for you and Dad to stand next to her. He was still carrying you in his arms, supporting your weight with his hip.

“Alright, on the count of three, all smile in the camera!” Uncle Sam said.

“One, two, three!”

You giggled when Dad tickled your stomach. You wanted to see the picture right now, but Grandpa Bobby had told you it would take a while to develop.

Enveloped in bear hugs from Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam and Dad, to say goodbye to them, you finally agreed to go to bed.

“Dad?” You asked him, as he went to close the door behind him. Dad turned around and looked at you, snuggled into the warm blanket with your favorite stuffed animal under your arm.

“You’ll come back soon, right?”

Dad smiled at your words. “Of course I will, sweetheart. And Uncle Sam, and Auntie Ellen, and Jo. All of us.”

“You promise?”

Dad pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. Sleep well.”

Even years later, Dean Winchester still carried an old photograph in his wallet, of a brunette mother, a blonde daughter, a father figure, and two brothers.

Though, one of them wasn’t looking at the camera, but rather at the small child he held on his side, his hand on her stomach as she blindingly smiled a carefree smile into the camera.

His own was dreamy as he watched her, and yes, for that moment, he dared to say, maybe even carefree as well.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

Cass’s room was never quiet. Whether she was blasting music or playing guitar, singing her soul out in the shower or watching a move obnoxiously louder than it had to be.

Cass’s room was never quiet. Especially not as it was now.

The silver streams of light reaching through the window made her bedroom almost look so soft and inviting, as you stood there, observing, not quite in the hallway but not exactly in the room either.

It was macabre, what you saw. Not because the room looked so terrible, no, because it looked so … normal.

None of the bookshelves were tumbled over, or paper sprawled all across the floor.

The loose decoration items weren’t lying disheveled everywhere. No signs of a fight. A physical one.

The bed wasn’t made. Cass never did that.

The room looked so normal.

It looked so right.

So why wasn’t she?

“Y/N, sweetheart,” The sound of the familiar, comforting voice of Maria Whitlock reached your ears and made you slowly turn around.

Even through the blur of unshed tears in your eyes, you could make out the two familiar figures standing behind her.

“There’s someone here to talk to you.”

You blinked away the tears and caught Dean’s gaze, and for the first time since you had seen him again, his features looked so soft and merciful, towards you, it had the power to almost shatter your heart.

And you hated yourself for how much you wanted to be comforted by him, be held in his arms like the small child that once had been, only seeking safety with her-

“What are you doing here?” The question came out harsher than you had expected it to, almost an accusation. But neither Sam nor Dean did flinch at your tone.

“We wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” It was obvious why. They knew, you knew, they knew you knew.

“I think you know about what,” Sam said, the softness in his voice grazing your stuttering heartbeat like a soft breeze.

Dean gestured in the direction of your room.

“In private.”

You didn’t want to speak alone to them. Then again, for the past almost-decade, it had been everything you could’ve wished for.

As you settled onto your bed, both Sam and Dean taking it upon themselves to find chairs to be comfortable, you felt like a small child again.

Looking at Dean, there was a familiarity that you needed, it was grounding, and you hated that it was. His presence, which had felt like home, and like safety for so long, being everything that you craved these past few days made your skin itch, because he still felt so right.

And you still felt so safe with him.

In a matter of seconds, you stood there and turned from a young woman into a small child, that wanted to throw herself in his arms and let him tell her that everything would turn out to be alright, because he was there, and he would look out for you. No matter what happened between the two of you, that had not changed, and you didn’t know what to think about it.

Sam was the first one to clear his throat. Of course he was.

“How are you feeling?”

Half-heartedly, because that was all you could muster right now, you raised an eyebrow at him. At least he had the decency to look a bit ashamed of his question.

“We’re sorry for your loss.”

Surprised, you turned your head to look at Dean. His green eyes were soft with sincerity.

“I don’t know how much she meant to you.” He glanced at Sam. “But I can imagine.”

You swallowed hard and looked back at your fumbling fingers again.

“Yeah, she was – she was great.” Your voice broke mid-sentence and you sniffled.

You cleared your throat. “Uhm, but – anyways, that’s not why you’re here. Am I right?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, that could be regret as much as it could be pity, and then turned back to you.

“We’re sorry. But if we want to catch whatever is doing this, we need to have all the information,” Sam apologized.

You nodded. You already knew what they were going to ask, so you saved their time and jumped straight to the answers.

“There was nothing – unusual.” You rubbed your eyes. “She was okay just yesterday, she was- I helped her studying biology, we-“ You interrupted yourself.

Sam threw you another pitying look.

“Is there a chance she might’ve had nightmares too? You know, like Roy,” Dean asked you.

You threw your hand in the air. “Yeah, I guess,” you said. “Didn’t really think that much into it. You know, considering what happened.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheeks and gulped. “Right.”

It was quiet again. The brothers looked at each other one last time, before Sam stood up and fixed his suit jacket.

“Alright. We’re gonna leave you now.”

Please don’t.

You nodded.

Sam stretched his hand out to reach for you, but hesitated mid-air and pulled his arm back again.

“Whenever you need something,” Dean said meaningfully, before he stepped out the door, “Call us.” Call me.

You hummed absently.

The click of the lock drowned the bedroom in a deafening silence again.

—

Night came sooner than you thought it would. Sleep didn’t.

You thought, with the exhaustion that had been dragging down your bones all day long, it would only be a matter of time until exhaustion claimed you.

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened up your chat with Finn.

With a sting in your heart, you realized that the last text conversation the two of you had had, had been more than a week ago.

Before all of this started.

Your keyboard clicked as you typed out the message.

hey

The answer came almost instantly.

Hey

can’t sleep either?

No

Your thumbs hovered over the buttons as you thought of what to type next.

I’m sorry we didn’t talk the entire day

It’s okay

It’s not like I came to see you either

would it be terrible to ask how you’re feeling?

Everyone’s been asking that

Oh, how you knew.

But to be honest

I don’t know

First Roy now Cass

Hasn’t reached my brain tbh

Feels more like a dream and I could wake up any second

I know what you mean

You paused for a moment, before you decided to send out the next text.

I’m still waiting for her to waltz into my room at 6 in the morning because she wants to get some mini donuts at breakfast before they’re all gone

You could practically hear the snickering laugh of Finn’s, as the icon told you he was typing out his next message.

Or letting my Alexa play the most random songs

I swear to God I’ve heard less sexual content in actual porn than that one Nicki Minaj song

first of all, it was cardi b, you pig, and

second that song is legendary

she was right to show it to you

A short while, you didn’t get an answer and you were almost afraid that Finn had either fallen asleep or that you had said something inappropriate, when the familiar ding made your screen light up.

We can catch up tomorrow

You know, maybe it would help us both

I know we haven’t been the same since all of this started, but I would really like us to be

Now more than ever

A heavy tug clamped around your heart at his words

you’re right

let’s talk tomorrow

Alright

Goodnight Y/N

good night finn

Sleep didn’t come in the first second after you plugged your phone on the charger, or even after you turned around to face the other wall.

But, as you laid on your back and felt the comforting arms of exhaustion grab after you, you had a feeling that it would’ve been worse if you had not talked to Finn.

—

Meanwhile, in the motel, Dean was slamming his third book this evening shut and tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of ��absolute useless crap that nobody needed and was a total waste of time”. The name had been his idea.

Sam didn’t even look up as his brother stood up with a screeching from the wooden floor as he slid the chair back, and started pacing around the room.

“I hate this,” he mumbled under his breath.

“How is it even possible that, everywhere we look, there isn’t even the smallest hint at what we might be chasing?”

Demonstratively, he picks up a book from the pile they brought back from the library, and lets it fall on the desk again.

“Not to mention that we’re completely wasting our time here reading through this absolute crap, and we’ve got jack squat!”

The paper rustled as Sam turned another page.

“I already told you, Dean,” he muttered, eyes still concentrated on the faded ink of the book. “There was nothing online, so we had to go old-school.”

Dean kept muttering under his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

Sam rolled his eyes and placed a new book where his brother had been sitting a few minutes ago.

“If you want it to go faster and we can catch this thing, sit down and get to reading. Research doesn’t do itself.”

Dean was still cursing under his breath when he reached the second chapter.

—

The loud chatter of multiple conversations, accompanied by faint music playing in the background and the occasional clinking of glasses or beer bottles was an all too familiar mix of noises for you.

The light in the Roadhouse bar was still a warm-toned white, and the men and women all towered over you in lengths. Immediately, the feeling of home engulfed you.

You were looking around, searching for the familiar set of colorful crayons, where had your Auntie Ellen put them? You were bored and wanted to draw a pretty picture of the horse you had seen this morning.

Squeezing through the people, they all made way for you when they realized who wanted to get past them, you tried calling out for Auntie Ellen or Jo, but no tone left your throat.

A panicked feeling settled in your stomach.

Then, you spotted a tall figure just a few feet away from you. They were wearing a cool leather jacket and had their back turned to you.

You made your way over to them. You didn’t know why, but somehow you knew that this stranger could help you.

When you had almost reached them, they suddenly started moving and walked away. You wanted to cry after them, but you still couldn’t speak.

You moved your legs as fast as you could, running after them, but the people in the bar suddenly got more and more, always shoving and not making room for you anymore.

The person still hadn’t shown you their face, you could only see their back as you fought to get to them. Then, they walked through the door out of the Roadhouse.

With one last push, and a protesting yell that didn’t leave your throat, you rushed after them into the light.

With a creak, the Impala’s door swung open, and you shuffled your feet out of the car until they hit the gravel.

Dad had offered to open the door for you, but you were a big girl already, you could get out of the car on your own.

When you turned around to ask him what you were doing here, you faltered.

The Impala was gone. So was Dad. And Uncle Sam. You looked around, but they were nowhere to be found. Your breathing quickened as you realized that you were alone, somewhere you didn’t know, on stoney ground with only your bunny slippers. You didn’t even have your favorite stuffed animal with you!

“Hey, let’s go,” you suddenly heard a voice say, and turned around to see a girl with black hair stand in front of you.

Suddenly, as you had just been looking up to her, the two of you were now eye to eye. She just stared at you.

A name popped into your head.

Cass.

That’s weird. You knew a Cass. And then it hit you.

Your best friend. Roy, Finn, Cassandra. Sam and Dean.

But Cass was dead. She couldn’t be here. Looking around, you noticed that the scenery around you was blurry by the edges.

Weren’t you standing on a pathway just now? Why were you in a cafeteria?

This wasn’t real, none of it. It was a dream.

Harsh dread clawed itself into your heart like iced water. You had to get out of here. How did you get out of a dream?

You knew it, you had done this before, with your nightmares. You had to die.

You moved your feet, tried running away, but the floor wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t move an inch, it’s like you were stuck.

You began to panic. This couldn’t be, there had to be a way for you to get out.

The next thing you knew, you lost the ground beneath your feet, and everything was black. You were falling.

You felt your organs being lifted by the air pressing you up, felt your heart pump so hard you were afraid it would jump out of your chest.

There was nothing around, only darkness, only empty.

No, no, no.

You wanted to scream, but your vocal cords were cut. Not a sound escaped your lips.

You had to get out, if there was nothing around you, how could you die?

You screamed without a sound.

If this was your dream, why couldn’t you just shape it the way you wanted?

The next thing you knew, there was light around you, and you were running again.

“Dean, look at this.” Sam slammed a massive book under Dean’s nose, dangerously close to Dean’s freshly filled coffee. Reflexive, Dean pulled the cup a few inches away.

Sam placed his finger on one of the open pages of the book. “Here,” he said. “I think this could be it.” Dean leaned forward to read.

You had landed on a road, a highway, judging by the many cars around you. This time, you actually managed to run somewhere, even if a lot slower than you usually would. Like treading through water.

It felt like you were chasing something, but you didn’t know what it was.

“If this is really it,” Dean said, when he finished reading, “Then we have a big problem.”

You did your best to remember your original plan. Right now, you were on a stripe of green next to the busy road. You had to change that.

Sam nodded heavily. “We need to get to Saint George’s immediately.”

Sam grabbed his jacket, but Dean didn’t move an inch, still staring at the handwritten words on the old paper in front of him.

You used all your strength to tread to the left, where cars were rushing from both sides over the street.

“This thing basically feeds off of bad experiences, right?”

Sam nods.

It was a red car that did it. You saw it coming as you made a beeline over the highway. As you noticed the headlights speeding towards you, for a split second you asked yourself, “What if this isn’t a dream. What if this is real.” You didn’t feel the impact when the car hit you.

“Then that means-“ Dean’s head shot up so fast Sam feared his brother would get whiplash.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed out.

Your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest when you officially woke up. The memory of the nightmare was still rushing through your minds, pictures playing behind your eyelids.

You had a hard time breathing, your chest felt as if it was carrying a hard weight that caged in your lungs.

You forced open your eyes to get yourself a glass of water. You were met with two yellow glowing orbs staring right back at you, merely inches away from your face in the darkness of the room.

You couldn’t stop the terrified scream that erupted from your throat.

oooh guys, only one chapter to go! what are we thinking? do you have any ideas on what the monster could be? and what do we think about cass and finn? comments & reblogs are always appreciated, see y’all in the next part!

[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (Series) (PART FOUR)

Word Count: 6.8

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

Warnings: THERE ARE SEXUAL THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER.   

A/N: This is part of a series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

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

"You didn't!" Frank laughs as you pull out the gift certificate to Tipsy Bison and slide it across the counter to him. 

"We did it," you say with a smug smile. "Finally put those bitches in their place."

Lightning crackles outside as if emphasizing your victory. The storm has been brewing intensely. You and Maria are standing in Frank's kitchen, half standing against the center kitchen island with freshly poured cups of tea the next morning. 

Rain is coming down in torrents, lighting and thunder punctuating the normally placid weather. 

"You didn't have to do that," Frank assures you, looking at the gift certificate with a tight-lipped smile. He turns the paper over a few times between his fingers. 

"Yes we did," Maria says solemnly. You agree. Taking it from them had felt not only satisfying, but right. 

Several months ago when you had first learned of trivia at the Tipsy Bison you, Maria, Frank and a very reluctant Bill had attended together. It was supposed to be a fun night out, a chance to distract yourself from your solitude. 

Except Myrtle and the Merryatrics decided to make it their personal mission to make Bill and Frank feel as shitty and judged as possible.

Wincing when Frank or Bill touched hands. Making gagging noises when Frank laughed, putting his head on Bill's shoulder. Frank had gone red in the face, trying to ignore them but it was too late, the damage had been done. 

It had all come to a head when Bill had passed Myrtle on his way to the commode and she'd called out an ugly slur under her breath, much to the tittering of her equally horrible tablemates. 

You'd all heard it. You'd all seen it and both you and Maria held a visibility upset Frank by the hands, shielding him from their mockery and smirks as you left the pub seconds later at his request. An oblivious Bill had joined minutes later completely thrown as to why everyone was outside. 

That night you and Maria had been fuming, trying to come up with something harmless but effective. You both come from a world where justice needs to be served. Getting revenge on a bunch of asshole senior citizens was hard when they had so little in their prejudiced lives to live for. 

Screaming at them was what you wanted to do, but knew that revenge had to be better than that. Something that would really hurt them. Trivia night; that had been their Achilles heel. The one thing they had in their miserable lives. 

And now you've brought back a small piece of that victory, like returning the shield of a slain warrior back to your king. 

You reach into the drawer in the island, pulling out a pair of scissors and sliding them across the counter to Frank who smiles at you both with a teary grin. 

"Wanna do the honors?"

Frank takes the scissors and with a flourish slices the certificate into several pieces before sweeping them into the garbage bin. 

You and Maria give emphatic claps and whoops. It feels good, like the closing of a particularly ugly chapter. After a pause Maria is giggling gently. You and Frank exchange looks of amusement before she finally talks again. 

"I also dropped off a particularly nasty note at their table when we left."

You dart a look over at Maria in surprise. "How? You were so hammered by the time we left you could barely stand."

"I wrote the note when I was sober," Maria says tapping her temple. "Had a feeling with we'd win with Joel there."

"Joel was there?" Frank says, his attention diverted. "The handsome one with the broad shoulders and ass that just will not quit?"

Frank says this with a sigh that borders on pornographic. You're thankful that Bill is working in the basement. 

"Frank!" Maria says with a good-natured laugh. "You been perving on him when he comes to the house?"

"No just observing." Frank darts a look to you. "Had to see what he looked like after this one was complaining about him being about the worst person alive."

You don't say anything, choosing to focus on the milk that you are now mixing into your tea. 

"Seemed like you two were getting along at trivia," Maria offers with a hopeful look in your direction before she looks back to Frank. "Plus she babysat his daughter."

You can feel Frank's incredulous gaze on you.

"So one week he's a nightmare come to life and now he's cool and you're hanging out at his place?"

Frank is now eyeing you with a curling grin. 

"Babysitting isn't hanging out," you defend. "He was barely there."

"Did you snoop?" Maria giggles. "I always wondered what Joel's place was like."

"Boring," you answer honestly. "I thought with him being a carpenter there would be so much beautiful woodwork like in here. But nah, just a boring ol' box house."

Something about that house stands out in the back of your mind though and you can't help but ask. You turn to Maria, your cheeks warming from your tea. 

"Do you know anything about his ex? There are no photos of her on the walls, not even from when Sarah was a baby."

"Maybe he doesn't wanna be reminded of her?"

"But when Sarah was at the office she mentioned she didn't have photos of her mom and Joel got all weird." You frown at the memory. "I just wondered if Tommy had ever mentioned anything."

"Not to me," Maria says. At this point Frank demands to hear more about her anniversary trip away and you turn your attention to the large windows and the rain that slides down them in rivulets. 

//////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

The next morning you sit at your desk, making notes for Miller Construction to work off of  when the work phone rings. 

"Austin Rescue," you chirp in habit as you circle one of your notes. 

"Hey, you got a sec?"

Joel's rumbling voice sounds through the speaker of the phone, startling you. 

"Joel? How did you get this number?"

There's a pause where you almost feel Joel rolling his eyes at you before he replies flatly. 

"Phonebook."

"Right," you nod tapping your pen anxiously against the desk as you run through a list of reasons why he would be calling. "Is everything okay? Did the -"

"Everything's fine."

You can hear him clear his throat awkwardly. 

"Okay."

You let the silence continue, a bit confused as to why he is speaking so stilted. 

But then again after the pub maybe he doesn't know where you stand. You're not really sure yourself. It seemed like you two had gotten on pretty well the other night, but maybe you're remembering it incorrectly now that you don't have the hazy glow of victory flooding you. 

"You mentioned being free to babysit Sarah again back at the pub." Joel sounds as if he's pacing slowly back and forth when he's talking. "Wondered if that was still a possibility?"

"Uh, sure," you nod glancing at your wristwatch. "When?"

"You free tonight by any chance?"

"Oh, that's soon," you say as if it weren't obvious. You think of what time the next bus will come and if it takes you by Rancher Street. 

"I know its last minute and I'm happy to pay you whatever you think is fair."

You smile at his earnestness. "Don't think you can afford me, Miller."

You almost feel like you can hear him smile on the other end of the phone.

"Plus an extra fifteen dollar Tipsy Bison gift certificate that you can shove in Myrtle’s face."

You can't help but laugh gently at that. "What time are you thinking?"

"Seven." 

You look again to see you have a few hours. "Yeah that works."

"Great."

You go to hang up when you hear the catch in Joel's tone. 

"Uh, one thing, can you tell her that sugar monsters aren't real? She's been sleeping in my room all fucking week."

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

Why you didn't bring a jacket today is beyond you. A decision built on a house of cards made of asinine assumptions. 

You had assumed you'd be going right home after work instead of traveling over to Rancher Street. 

You had assumed the blue sky of the morning would hold out until the evening. 

You had assumed that you wouldn't find a hole in the bottom of your boot as you walked up the sidewalk to Joel's house in a downpour. 

These assumptions have you dripping wet and shivering when you finally get to the house, knocking feebly. Joel swings the door open, about to say something when he stops. His eyes swim all over your body, no doubt observing your drenched state. 

"You're soaked," Joel says after a beat, clearing his throat. "Uh, lemme get you a towel."

You enter the house with a sniff, toeing off your books and glancing around to see it looks cleaner than the last time you were here. None of Sarah’s toys litter the carpet; no bowls of cereal lay on the table. Joel reappears a few minutes later handing you a fresh-smelling towel.  You thank him, throwing it over your shoulders. 

"Sorry I'm late," you say pushing the damp hair from your eyes. "First bus was full so I had to wait for the next one. Then the fucking sky opened up and well, you know."

You motion to your soaking body and Joel looks strangely upset. A quick scan of him indicates you’re here to babysit Sarah so he can go on a date, probably with the waitress. To you it seems obvious in the jeans he’s picked (dark wash, a bit tighter in the thighs than you’ve seen him wear before) and the light blue button down shirt he wears rolled just below the elbows.

He’s also got fuck-me hair. 

Fuck-me hair is a phrase that you and Maria had come up with in college. Invented for frat boys that took hours to artfully arrange their hair to look slightly disheveled, as if they’d just had a good fucking. You don’t know if Joel’s is intentional or not, but he definitely has it.

He watches you silently dab at your clothes with the towel before rubbing it over your hair. You must look a state. You probably have fuck-this-rain hair.  You follow him into the kitchen, still sniffling as he goes to the coffee maker. 

"Here, drink this," he says sliding a mug of warm coffee in your direction. You take it with thanks, basking in the warmth of the liquid spreading through your body.  His coffee is strong, you realize, wincing as the acidic burn hits you belatedly.

“No good?”

“Wish it was a mocha,” you admit. “I like strong coffee to taste like a dessert. Save your judgments because I can tell just by looking at you that you’re a coffee purist.”

Joel about to reply when his phone buzzes and he picks up, moving to the other room. There’s the sound of his low murmur and then you can hear tiny feet making their way down the stairs and you smile. Sarah squeaks when she come around the corner and sees you, running over with a stack of playing cards. 

"You’re here!”

“I am,” you laugh.

“Daddy's teaching me Go Fish!"

"I love that game," you enthuse, smiling down at her. She seems to notice your damp apparel and towel slung over your shoulders because she looks you over, her tiny nose wrinkling. 

"Why are you all wet? Did you go swimming?"

You laugh. "No. It's just really pouring outside."

Sarah clamors onto the chair next to you, placing the deck of cards on the table between you. You begin a new round when Joel reappears into the kitchen looking embarrassed. The tips of his ears are red, a telltale sign that you noticed last time as well. 

"Place is closed 'cause of the storm. Blackouts all over apparently. Rescheduled with her for another-“ he stops himself as if this detail isn’t relevant to you or for his young daughter. “Guess you came all this way for nothing."

You smile down at Sarah, playing with a strand of her coiled hair absently.

"I wouldn't say that." 

Sarah smiles up at you before her attention is back on the cards in her hands. You look over to Joel to see him staring at you, only jolting to action when your eyes meet his. 

"Lemme give you cab money," he says going to reach for his wallet. You hold a hand up in his direction, waving it away.

"Please," you shake your head. "It's no problem. The bus comes by, like, every ten minutes and I’m already dressed for the weather."

It's more like every thirty but you don't want to make him feel bad. And if you get soaked, oh well, it's not that long a bus ride home. Sarah is watching you and her father with a quirk of her brow.

"Please take the money," Joel insists, his voice bordering on desperate. You can tell he feels awful for all of this.  

"How about I just borrow an umbrella?" You ask, motioning to the one at the door. "I'll bring it back next time I see you."

Joel doesn't seem enthused by this compromise but he nods, turning from you and heading to the pantry. 

“How about some mac ‘n cheese, Sar-bear?”

“You said we could get pizza,” Sarah scowls over her cards at her father.

“Well there’s a bunch of blackouts from the storm,” Joel reasons. “So I think it’s best if I make us something. Otherwise you might be waiting hours for something to eat. Your choice.”

Joel leans back against the counter, his arms crossed as he waits for her reply. You wonder if he’s serious, if he’ll actually let her choose. Your parents never gave you choices. It was eat or go hungry. 

Sarah sighs heavily at this disruption to her night, her disappointment palpable. “Mac n’ cheese.”

Joel smiles and gets to work filling a pot with water in the nearby sink. You decide this is a good time to make a quick exit. You stand only to feel Sarah's tiny hand shoot out to clamp around the waist of your sweater.

"Wait!" Sarah pleads with you, pulling gently. "No! Don't go!"

"Sarah," Joel warns sternly from his place beside the stove. He's placing the pot there, twisting the switch to turn on the heat. 

Sarah's eyes are huge in her tiny face. She looks so concerned that you drop to your knees, gripping her tiny hands in yours and looking at her earnestly.

"I���ll come back when your Daddy goes out next time," you promise. "I’ll bring cupcakes and we can decorate ‘em. What do you think of that?"

You can see Sarah's chin starting to wobble, her eyes filling with tears as she nods. She's clearly overtired, rubbing her eyes as she begins to whine. 

"But you just got here."

You shoot a desperate look at Joel, expecting him to look frustrated. Instead he looks bemused at you, indicating to the pot bubbling on the stovetop with a tilt of his head.

"Any chance you wanna stay for dinner?"

///

“Thanks for the dry clothes," you tell Joel as you move into the seat opposite him next to Sarah.  You're dressed in one of Joel's soft grey t-shirts and basketball shorts that go past your knees. Not exactly your sexiest look, but very welcome considering your other clothes were soaked.  

Joel glances up at you as you slide into your chair, smiling at Sarah’s already cheese-covered face.

"You stuff should be outta the dryer in an hour or so," he answers gently, spooning noodles onto Sarah's plate as quickly as she can eat them. You have to admit that after a few spoonfuls you understand her culinary exuberance – it’s really tasty.

You and Joel chat about the unexpected downpour, the sound of thunder in the back of your talks like some grim portend of doom. Joel brings over the salad bowl and steaming garlic bread still wrapped in its foil.

“I noticed you have that big tree out front of where you work,” Joel is saying as he cuts the bread into slices. “Ever worry it’ll fall?”

“Never thought about it,” you answer truthfully. In all honesty you’re so tunnel-vision-ed when it comes to work that anything outside the four walls seems like an ancillary detail to you. Sarah is tugging on your elbow and look over at her.

“Can we decorate blueberry cupcakes next time? Those are my favorite.”

You pause thinking about what’s available at the grocery store. “I can see what they have.”

Joel spoons a second helping of noodles onto your plate without being asked after you inhale the first. You thank him before turning your attention back to Sarah who has been in the middle of telling you both a very long, very serious dream she had involving my Little Pony and killer insects

"And there's was huge a huge uh, uh bee," Sarah stammers excitedly. "And it poked my arm and the pony she uh-uhh, she ran away so fast."

Joel nods, cutting off another piece of bite-sized garlic bread for her. She pops it into her mouth with her fingers, momentarily silencing her tale. Joel takes advantage of this, glancing your way. 

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"I think so," you answer thoughtfully. "I wasn’t exactly thrilled with having to spend the grant money on the office, but I’m trying to be positive about it. Might be nice to walk on floorboards without threat of a hospital visit.”

Joel smiles at this.

"I gotta ask, is this Kraft dinner?” you ask, looking down at the noodles. “Because it’s really-“

"Not a fucking chance," Joel interrupts clearly affronted as you laugh. “You think I’d feed my kid that junk?”

"Daddy you said f-" Sarah begins, her mouth full. 

"Oops," Joel interjects before she can finish, his face serious. "That's a bad word. I shouldn't have said it."

You hide your smile behind your water glass, taking a big gulp and chortling. Joel smirks over at you, his gaze dropping when you dribble your water down your chest.

"Oopsy," Sarah says as she notices.  

"Oh for-" you stop yourself from swearing just in time. You grab a napkin and blot at the ever expanding water stain. You give a half chuckle of disbelief at yourself. 

"Seems I'm determined to stay wet."

As soon as the words leave your mouth you hear a fork clatter onto a plate. You glance up to see a pink-cheeked Joel going to pass you a fresh napkin but his elbow hits the bowl of salad, toppling it to the floor. 

"Fuck," Joel hisses, dropping down to pick up the mess. Sarah watches the top of his head solemnly. 

"Daddy you said-"

"I know, sweetheart," Joel grumbles. 

You go over, helping him scoop the wilted leaves and assorted vegetables back into the bowl.

"At least you didn't put dressing right in it," you offer with a smile. "That would've been a pain to clean."

Joel is knelt so close to you that you can see the defined hair of his beard when you glance up at him in between scoops. He's staring at you, his mouth slightly parted. You feel insecure at the scrutiny, your brows furrowed. 

"What?"

Joel's looks like he wants to reply but then his eyes drop to your mouth and your heartbeat quickens. 

"Daddy, can we watch The Little Mermaid?"

The moment is broken by Sarah's shrill cry from above you at the table. You laugh awkwardly as you sit back on your heels. 

"Course sweetheart," Joel nods, helping her down from her chair. "You know how to work the machine."

Sarah bounces excitedly from her father, darting into the next room. You can hear the sound of DVD's being shuffled and you look back to Joel whose eyes are on your face again.

"Thanks so much for dinner," you say continuing to pick up the vegetables. "It was delicious, 'side from the salad of course."

Joel breaks into an easy grin at this, the boyish dimple clear in his cheek. You find you can’t look at him too long or you start to feel warm. And you shouldn’t feel warm about Joel fucking Miller for a lot of reasons; most importantly you’re only here because he was going on a date with a cute waitress.

You hear the gentle buzz of the drier finishing its cycle and you stand quickly.

“I better grab those and head out,” you reason glancing at the clock on the wall. “Got a lot to finish before you guys come this week.”

///////

Its hours later in your suite with rain still pelting against your windows. The lightning is sharp and the thunder rattles your window frame when it arrives. The fireplace is on, making your studio glow peacefully.

"C'mon," James pants from underneath you, his hips jerking up. He gives your ass a light slap. "C'mon sweetheart. Ride this cock hard."

James came to go over any last minute additions for construction tomorrow. When he saw how stressed you were he'd suggested a way to take your mind off things. 

Now you're riding him in your bed, his hands on your tits as he thrusts up into you. You can't help but feel underwhelmed. James is so fast, so quick, which doesn't lead to a very pleasurable experience. 

James also likes to hear himself talk, which would be nice if it wasn't so cock-centered. ("Come on this cock baby" "gonna stuff you full of this cock" and his personal favorite "take my cock"). 

It takes a lot of concentration, wriggling and clit stimulation from your covert hand to get you to come and when you do it's barely a whimper. James doesn't care - he follows soon after, his face reddening as he chokes out how good you feel. You both collapse next to each other on your narrow mattress. 

"Maybe I should stay the night," James murmurs against the top of your head as he circles you in his arms. "Maybe a little morning delight before work?"

Sex with Paul was nice if not a little boring. Sex with James is intense if not unsatisfying. You feel like a sexual Goldilocks, forever trying to fight the right porridge. And right now all you want to do is sleep.

"I'm pretty exhausted," you say faking a yawn. "Think I need a good night’s sleep and I can see ya tomorrow.”

He hides his disappointment behind a shrug before pulling back from you.

You tell yourself that sexual compatibility isn't always perfect the first time around. That it takes communication and time to perfect. This is what you remind yourself as James excuses himself to the bathroom to wash up. 

He’s almost there when something catches his eyes and your gaze follows his over to your sofa. You can see Joel’s clothes there, crumpled. You intend on washing and bringing them back the next time you babysit.

“Whose are these?”

James’ tone is light, but you can sense the unspoken tension.

“Joel’s,” you answer, pulling the sheet of the bed over your chest. “I was babysitting earlier and got caught in a downpour.”

“You could’ve called me,” James says tightly. “I’d have driven you.”

“It’s fine,” you say waving away his concern. You pull on a robe, stretching and padding over to the sofa to stand next to him.  “I’m gonna wash ‘em and give them back next time I babysit.”

“You’re sitting for him again?” James is staring at you with a look you don’t enjoy. It’s suspicious.  “Thought it was a one-off. S’what you said it was when we chatted.”

“Yeah but his daughter is actually amazing and he’s not so bad once you get past the grumpy exterior.” You shrug, giving him a peck on his cheek. James seems soothed by this gesture and nods before heading into the bathroom.

You look down at the clothes when the door closes, your forefinger trailing over the shirt. It’s soft and warmed from the fire. Without thinking you raise the shirt to your nose and inhale. It smells like Joel’s laundry detergent.

You start when there's a knock at you suites door, dropping the shirt back onto the sofa like you’ve been caught doing something illegal. You check your watch to confirm that yeah, it's late, almost eleven, and frown.

It's not Maria, she'd just come through the inside entrance. You pad over to an increasingly rapid knock and pull open the door, shocked at the figure standing there waiting. 

"Joel?"

He's completely soaked from the rain, droplets slipping down the end of his nose. Thunder booms behind him as he looks at you from under the brim of his cap. His eyes trail quickly over your robe before jumping back to your face.

“I’m sorry it’s so late.”

"Come in," you urge, closing the door after him and pulling the nearby towel from the kitchen hook. 

His dark eyes scan the room as he enters and you wonder what he sees in your modest studio. You know for a fact the bed is unnaturally disheveled and you pray he doesn't notice his clothes in a pile on the sofa. 

"Won't stay long," he finally says taking the towel and wiping his face. "I didn’t have your cell. I'm here to make sure about that tree by your building. When's the last time an arborist had been out to see it?"

"I couldn't say," you shrug before calling over your shoulder to James.

James exits the bathroom at your call, rubbing at his nose. He sees Joel and comes striding over. 

"Everything okay, bud?'

Bud? You frown over at James at this. You’ve never heard him use this term before. Joel is suddenly tense, his eyes darkening as he scans James’ face.  

"I couldn't remember the last time the arborist was out to give updates on that big oak outside the building," you explain to James. "Do you?'

"Years probably," James shrugs. "Why?"

"Because, bud," Joel expels this word as if it disgusts him. "When I saw it during the walk through I made a note that it looked pretty shaky. Was gonna call a guy I know to give an idea on safety but he charges a bundle and I wanted to make sure you hadn't already had a recent visit. Then this rainstorm started and hasn't let up and now the wind so I thought I'd come and check before its too late."

“Door to door service,” James observes with a flat look.

“Didn’t have her number,” Joel explains motioning to you and looking irritated at having to explain himself to James.

"I'm sure we'll be fine," James assures from behind you. "That tree has been there for decades of storms just like this one."

"I had no idea you had a background in horticulture," Joel says in a voice that verges on challenging. 

James steps forward, his shoulder brushing yours. 

"Well if your friend charges a bundle to tell people to unnecessarily uproot old trees I guess I went into the wrong career," James laughs obnoxiously. 

Your eyes ping pong in between the men, confused as to where all of this animosity is coming from. 

"Is it really necessary if it's that expensive?" You ask Joel, your mind going back to her already feeble budget. 

Joel's eyes drift back over to you and you’re thankful to see that they lose some of their chill.  "I think ---"

"It's not," James answers for Joel. His arm slips around your waist. "We'll see you tomorrow then, Joel? Unless there's something else?"

Joel looks thunderous. And you're strangely embarrassed for him. You move back from James, out of his touch. 

"Your choice."

Then he's gone, handing you back the towel and yanking the door open. You watch his broad shouldered frame move out the door and into the pouring night. 

/////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// /////// ///////

When you see the flooding in the morning of the construction job, you assume that you're imagining things. 

It's not until you wade in feeling the damp soak into your shoes that reality sets in.

Water is everywhere. The storm knocked over the tree Joel warned you about. It shattered the window, cracking the widow frame. Glass is all over the buckling floor planks. 

It also brought in the rain. 

Waterlogged files swollen with rot. Wood flooring planks warped and buckled. It's worse than you thought. 

James enters quickly after you looking even more devastated than you. He rushes to his desk, pulling open the locked drawer with trembling fingers. 

"The blueprints," he tells you as he begins to dig in the drawer. "I never made backup copies."

"He told us," you say through burning eyes. "Joel told us about the tree and we just -"

"How was I supposed to know a tree that hasn't given us any issues in the last ten years was gonna crash through the window? Huh?" James suddenly sobers when he sees your wet eyes. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

You want to be mad at James, but seeing how sorrowful he is makes you realize that this is just an awful mistake that no one, save for an overpriced arborist, could have accurately predicted. 

"There's no point in fighting," you say shaking your head. "What's done is done."

By the time Joel and Tommy arrive minutes later you're still trying to locate all the items that were once on your desk and are now in the shallow puddles and debris. 

Tommy offers a low whistle when he walks in, his eyes large. Joel follows suit, offering a soft "fuck" when he sees the damage. 

You’re still searching amongst the water, coming upon the trinkets you had in your desk, the jelly bean bowl, all of it is submerged in a thin layer of water and debris. The framed photos on your desk, the ones of Pongo and your parents are warped and impossible to decipher. You only know it's them by the frames that hold them and this is what breaks you. 

"No," you utter in a low moan when you see them. "No." 

The tears have sprung up, ones you keep hidden away, locked in your soul. They've escaped, slipped past your heart's jailer and are spilling brutally down your cheeks. 

James comes loping over, his eyes wide and nervous. 

"Are you okay?" James broaches gently placing a palm on your shoulder. "Can I do anything?"

The tears are warm and wet and despite how overwhelmed you're feeling, they still take you by surprise. James brings you into his arms, cradling you gently. You wipe at your face angrily with the back of your shirt sleeve, embarrassed.

"Do you want me to take you home?" James asks you but you pull back from him shaking your head. 

You feel embarrassed at being coddled like that and you feel uncomfortable in James' arms. 

You turn to see Joel and Tommy talking, Joel is looking irritatedly between you and James, frustrated at you for not listening to him last night about the tree. You've made he and Tommy's job here so much more work, no wonder he’s resentful.

"It was caught quickly, you'll barely have to dip into your discretionary spending," Tommy tries to assure you. "The stuff that's damaged was the stuff we were replacing anyway."

Not everything.

Your chin tremors, the hot tears sliding down your cheeks and again brushed away by the back of your wrist.

"Could've been way worse," Joel mutters more to himself than anything. "Don't have to cry about it."

The tone in the room immediately shifts at this last muttered comment. Tommy is straightening and shooting his brother a wild-eyed look. James is standing next to you, moving back when you shake his hand from your shoulder. 

Your anger works through your body like lightning. The tears come faster now, but now they're full of spite and fury. 

"I don't have to cry about it?" you seethe, marching up to Joel and holding up the ruined photographs. "These were my history, Miller. My only connection to the part of my childhood that wasn't fucking terrible!"

Joel is quietly staring at you, watching as you look at him with a look of mingled, anger and disdain. 

"But hey I guess I could just walk around miserable like you," you spit furiously. "How's that working out for your social life?"

You realize it's a stupid thing to say when only days ago you saw a waitress slip him her number, yet Joel still acts insulted, his jaw clenching. 

"Hey now," Tommy intercedes from across the room. You may be his girlfriend's best friend but Joel is his big brother. 

Joel tilts slightly forward and looks like he's going to say something low and quiet and just for you to hear. His face inches closer, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheeks. 

You stare at his mouth, waiting to see what he could possibly say after such an insensitive comment but then he's turned away and gone back to pulling back the debris by James' desk. You watch him go, wincing. 

"We can take care of the rest of this," Tommy assures you with a smile that doesn't quite reach his dark eyes. "If you want, I mean."

You know he's trying so hard not to push your buttons. He's trying to give you everything Joel can't at the moment; kindness and civility. You relent because he's kind and because Maria loves him.

"Sure."

James is determined to drive you home and you're too worn down to say no. The flood, Joel's attitude, the weather; All three have conspired to leave you battered today. 

James excuses himself to use the bathroom before you leave. You stand in the center of the waterlogged space and shake your head. All your hopes, your dreams, gone. Vanished. There won't be a dime left over for kennels now. And the photos you've carried with you from place to place? The good memories? Gone. 

Joel and Tommy have started to move everything salvageable from from the main area of the office back to the storage room which thankfully was barely affected thanks to it being built a few steps up. Small miracles. 

Tarps cover the furniture and the electronics have been stored in large tubs to take to the repair shop.

After coming out of the washroom with a spring in his step a few minutes later, James is much more pleasant than you are. 

He circles you waist with his arm, calling out his thanks to Tommy before he leads you out the door away from the cold gaze of Joel Miller. 

/////

"That asshole! I don't care if he's Tommy's brother I'm gonna kick his ass!"

Maria is pacing around your suite, her dark hair flicking behind her as you summarize what's happened that day at work and the cruelty of Joel's statement. James dropped you off hours ago trying to insist he stay but you were eager to be left alone with your thoughts.

Not even an hour had passed before you called Maria in tears.

She was to you in thirty, insisting that her work could wait. She hugged you when you showed her the photo frames, listened to what happened and jumped from the sofa the second Joel’s comment of ‘don’t have to cry about it’ was spoken aloud as if she’d been electrocuted.

“He’s not worth it,” you insist, your eyes on your interlaced fingers over your knee. “I just never want to see him again.”

“You won’t have to,” Maria insists. “I’ll tell Tommy to get one of the other guys to help him. You don’t need that grumpy bastard hanging around making you feel shitty.”

This is why you and Maria had been friends for so long, this instant call to action if the other is in pain. You would do the exact same for Maria (and have). Maria is already pulling out her cell phone and while you’d love the satisfaction of hearing Joel being removed from your project, you also can’t jeopardize things with Maria and Tommy. It’s going too good, the two of them too perfect for that.

“Just take a beat,” you tell her softly, motioning for her to come join you back on the sofa.

"I thought you two were getting along," Maria sighs disappointed. "I saw you two at the Bison and you were babysitting Sarah."

"I dunno," you shrug. "I guess he was really pissed off about the arborist thing."

"Still," Maria shakes her head disappointed. "I just expected better from him." 

You suppose you had as well which is why this has you especially upset. You’d thought you and Joel were working towards a friendship or something. The way you got along so well at dinner? Had you been imagining it?

“Oh shit I forgot,” Maria says suddenly slapping her thigh and jumping up. “I brought you kolaches. Be right back.”

She makes her way through the door connecting your places, closing it behind her in habit. You hear her jogging up the stairs to her kitchen. You smile at her thoughtfulness, idly wondering if she got them from that European bakery near her office.

You pause when you hear something over the light rain outside. It sounds like scratching. A panic goes through you at the sound. What the fuck is that? Rats trying to hide from the storm? For a fleeting moment you wish you had a cat.

Or worse, what if it’s a burglar trying to break in? There were break ins a few blocks away, Bill had told you recently. You think of calling Maria back, but she won’t hear you with the door closed. You rise slowly from the sofa, your eyes going to the butcher knife in the kitchen. Given your culinary prowess it’s mostly there for decoration, but today you’re thankful for it.

You strain your ears, listening to the sound of shuffling. Your heartbeat is in your ears as you raise the knife with one hand and use the other to fling the door open. A tall figure is hunched over your welcome mat, but you recognize the curls right away.

"Joel? What the fuck?"

You glance down to see Joel straighten, his dark eyes widening in surprise as he sees you and the butcher knife. He shoves his arm behind his back, speaking in a voice laced with irritation.

"I didn't think you'd be home."

"That's not a reassuring reason to be skulking around my place," you insist with narrowed eyes. You lower the knife slowly to your side, taking him in. He won’t look you in the face and his hand is still behind his back.

You feel your mouth curving into a scowl at the sight of him. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, the neck drenched with sweat. You hate that he’s been working at your office all morning. You hate that he’s come into your life at all.

“Surprised I answered the door?” you snipe. “Gotta admit I’ve been so busy unnecessarily crying I don't know how I was able to see in front of me enough to walk."

“Thought you’d be with your boyfriend,” Joel mutters, his eyes still not meeting yours.

“Nope, just here,” you answer flatly. You hear crinkling coming from behind his back and you are about to question it when you hear another voice from behind you.

“Joel?”

Maria has come back from upstairs and is now looking at the both of you in confusion. She looks at you and the knife and then back at Joel.

You hear Joel mutter something that sounds an awful lot like "Christ on a bike" under his breath. You shoot a confused look at Maria before turning back to face an increasingly jittery Joel.

"I just wanted to-" Joel looks uncomfortable having an audience, but finally he brings his arm out from behind his back and thrusts a bouquet of cornflowers, fall asters and petunias at you. The cellophane crinkles against your arm as you hold the colorful arrangement in shock, your other hand still holding the knife loosely.

"Was wrong, what I said before," Joel tells your shoulder. "Was havin' a bad day and you didn't deserve it. Won't happen again. Sorry."

He doesn't even give you a chance to reply. He just turns, his broad-shouldered frame moving away from the house with the speed of a seasoned athlete. You watch him throw himself into his truck, speeding away before you finally step back into your home and close the door, the flowers still clutched to your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” you ask a very amused Maria. She goes to your cupboard to bring down a vase before giggling.  

"That was the cutest thing I've ever seen."

[polakina]

in the shadows

rating: explicit

outline: after a botched mission, everyone's on a knife's edge. you take yourself outside while everyone is in the food hall, feeling like a cigarette will calm your anger. Ghost joins you, and the both of you find a better way to let out a bit of frustration.

warnings: smut, oral sex, unprotected sex, smoking, dirty talking, dirty thougts

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

II

To express it lightly, that mission was the most fucked up you'd had in a long time. No one spoke the whole ride home. Not even Soap, which surprised you.

After Ghost had finished his long lecture, his shouts were heard even above the helicopter blades, nobody even dared look in his direction after that. You sat there quietly, between two other soldiers who looked down at their black boots as you did, their breathing quiet enough to go almost unheard. It would take Riley a while to come down from his rage after this one, that was for sure.

If only that one shot hadn't been fired early by that idiot with a trigger-happy hand, perhaps it would have all gone a different way. Then Hassan and his men wouldn't have scattered into the shadows and your team might have actually had something to bring back to base other than your sorry asses. You cast a glance over to the newbie soldier who caused your fuck up, and he never managed to meet your eye. He was surely in for a whooping when you got back to base.

"Right," Ghost's voice echoed throughout the carrier, everyone's heads spinning to face him as he stood in the center of the metal box. "Everyone reports back to their bunks when we land, get yourselves cleaned and fed and meet me and Vargas in the meeting room for a debrief in an hour." That was all he said. The second you landed, he left without a word, the rest of you following in his wake.

"How long do you think until he's calmed down after this one?" Soap asked you quietly as the two of you walked back to your rooms, everyone dispersing behind their own doors without a sound.

"Well, remember last time?" You mused, hearing Soap's grunt of acknowledgement. "He was pissed off about that for almost two weeks. But this, this is worse. I won't be surprised if he doesn't speak to us for at least a month after this." Soap just hummed, agreeing silently.

"Then let's just pray it passes quickly, eh? We've gotta get this job done one way or the other, and I'd rather it be without having one eye on the target and the other on Ghost." You both nodded in agreement before returning to your respective rooms, which happened to be opposite one another. Once back inside your room, you stripped off your clothing and were happy to be greeted with hot water on your back as soon as stepping into the wet room. 

After cleaning the dirt and blood from your hair and body, you changed into more comfier clothes, happy to feel soft pants and a simple cotton shirt on your skin once again. You remained in your room for a while, stretching out your sore muscles and kneading the knots in your back and legs from being on your feet the whole day, running and hoisting yourself over more fences than you cared to count.

After an hour or so, you heard the guys from the unit all leaving their rooms to head to the kitchen to find food, rambling and shouting like schoolboys as they passed your door, banging on it childishly to call you for dinner. You didn’t join them, not feeling much of an appetite after the day you’d had. But you were in the mood for nicotine. It seemed to be all that cleared your head and calmed you after a mission. You could hear Price in the back of your mind telling you how those things could kill you. You heard yourself responding to him the same every time, “yes but a bullet would kill me faster, and I still face those everyday”. He’d stopped commenting on it after that.

Taking your pack of cigarettes and a lighter off your nightstand, one gifted to you by Ghost three years ago with a skeleton on the metal case, you made your way outside. Using the back door which was accessible walking past the kitchen where the boys were sitting eating, you gave a small smile as they called to you, waving over. Ghost was sat amongst them, besides Soap at the bench table in the center of the room. He glanced at you as you walked away, noting that you left through the backdoor and got up to follow you out.

“Everything good, L.T?” Soap asked him, watching him stand from his seat.

“All good, Soap. Just gonna check up on her for a sec,” Ghost responded, his Mancunian accent seeping through the gruffness of his voice. Soap just nodded acknowledgingly and said nothing more, digging into his meal. 

You lit your cigarette, sitting on the pile of military weapon cargo boxes stacked outside the tent. Breathing in the smoke, you cast your eyes over to the setting sun dipping behind the mountains that encircled your base camp. It was pretty, the sky painted an array of purples and oranges. But your silent moment was cut off by the door shutting rather harshly to your left. It made you jump. Ghost chuckled lowly for only himself to hear.

“Not hungry, I’m guessing?” Ghost speculated, leaning against the cargo boxes next to you. 

You shook your head, taking another puff and blowing it out into the passing wind. “Not really. Just ready to get back out there, honestly.” That made Ghost raise a brow, looking over at you for a second. 

“So soon?” He inquired.

“Of course,” you inhaled once again, taking a moment to let the smoke drift down your throat. “Never leave a mission unfinished, right?” Ghost grunted approvingly, nodding his head slightly.

“Right,” he smiled slightly, seeing you nod in agreement out of the corner of his eye. “You gotten any sleep recently? You’ve been a little out of it the past few weeks.”

That made you turn your head. “There’s a rookie that fired early who deserves a seeing to, but you’re asking about me because you think I’m out of it?” You asked aback at his words. 

“Woah, I already spoke to the kid. Well, spoke is a soft term for how I said it, it was more shouting.”

“More like screaming,” you mumbled. “We all heard you from our rooms, Riley. It was pretty harsh.”

“You think I was too hard on him?”

“No, he deserved it. Our mission fell apart. Fuck knows when we’re going to get another chance,” you breathed out, the annoyance lacing your tone. And Ghost could hear it. He patted your leg comfortingly.

“We’ll get them next time, love. Don’t worry,” he assured you. It was a strange feeling, not a bad one, just strange. Riley comforting you, being…sweet. You liked it. 

The two of you had known eachother for years, been through hell together. Brought eachother back from the dead on more than one occasion. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for eachother, nothing you hadn’t already done for eachother. But this was new, his sweeter side coming through. 

“You did good today, love. Real good. Despite everything, I always got you to count on,” he admitted, leaning into this kinder side that had grown on him. His hand stayed firmly planted on your thigh, his thumb circling over your pants. You made no move to stop him. You liked the feel of his palm on your leg, thumb drifting over it slowly. 

“Wouldn’t have gotten through it without you, Lieutenant,” you smiled, looking over at him. He chuckled, and you joined him. Your cigarette was half smoked, the ash on the precipice of falling to the ground. You felt it being taken from your hand, Ghost pulling the front of his balaclava down with the same hand he held the cigarette with before bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply.

You instinctively looked ahead, not wanting to invade the thing he kept most private. You heard his exhale, seeing the puff of smoke out of your peripheral. It was itching at you, to look at him. Even for just a second. But you refrained. You had to. 

“I can practically feel you trying to keep your eyes off me. It’s sort of amusing,” Ghost huffed a laugh, taking another hit of the cigarette in his fingers.

“Excuse me, I can keep my eyes to myself, thank you very much,” you smiled, a teasing tone coming through your voice. “Who said I wanted to look at you anyway?”

“Ah okay, love. So I’ll just pretend I don’t catch you looking at me during meetings, hmm?” He teased back, grip tightening on your thigh a little. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant,” you smirked, feeling his eyes on you all of a sudden.

“Since when did you call me, Lieutenant,” Ghost asked, inquisitively. “Ever since I made this rank, you’ve never used the title.”

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, still looking ahead. 

“Going all quiet on me all of a sudden, soldier? That’s not like you at all.” You still said nothing, you just heard Ghost pushing himself off the cargo boxes and walking around to stand in front of you. Your eyes averted, again off instinct. You looked down, seeing his legs standing between yours. “Say what’s on your mind, love.”

You just shook your head, smiling to yourself. “There’s nothing to say, boss.”

“Uh huh.” He was not convinced. Neither were you, to be honest. “You gonna look me in my eyes and tell me that?”

You hesitated, and Ghost waited for a few seconds. But as everyone in the team knew, he grew impatient and took matters into his own hands. You felt his gloved hand cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.

Your eyes widened as you met eyes with Ghost. His face. It was uncovered by his balaclava that he never seemed to take off. You couldn’t help but stare. Before, you’d only ever seen his eyes, but now you saw the whole picture.

“What? Cat got your tongue, soldier?” That smile. You could look at it forever. The small dimple that formed on his right cheek, the little creases in his face when he smiled. He really was beautiful. “See something you like?”

“I…” your words had escaped you as you looked up at the man looming over you, a smirk now present on his face at your awed expression. “Maybe I do.”

He just hummed, the smirk never leaving his face. His free hand stayed on your jaw, stroking patterns into your cheek, while the other flicked away the cigarette in his hand. “Oh yeah?” There was a mischievous look in his eye that didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Riley, I-”

“Uh uh, no,” he said, silencing you immediately as you looked up at him expectantly. “You can refer to me by my proper title, can’t you, soldier?” That low, gruff tone sent something racing through you. The way he looked down at you with dark, piercing eyes, eager for something. Something you couldn’t put your finger on. 

“Yes,” you breathed, leaning into his touch.

Then his fingers tightened on your jaw. “Yes, what?”

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned down, mere inches from your face. 

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

You didn’t know what had gotten into Ghost, but you were loving this new side of him. 

“Good.” He pulled your face closer to his, and you could practically feel his breath on your cheek. “Now you tell me if you want me to stop, love.”

Your response came amost instinctively. “I don’t want you to stop.”

All you saw was a flash of a smile before his lips met yours. You melted into his touch, feeling his hands on your thighs, your hips, gripping you softly wherever he could. His lips moved against yours perfectly, and you felt a light scratch of stubble against your chin and cheeks. His face was warm, most likely from the humidity falling over the dark sky, and it was a comforting feeling against your colder cheeks. 

His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you wasted no time letting him explore you with it. You practically moaned against his mouth, and Ghost pulled you flush against him, your legs pressed against the sides of his thighs.

He was loving this. Feeling you settle into his arms, your legs clenching around his thighs, your hands grabbing at his arms and shoulders. He needed you. As much as he’d want to get you back to his room for more privacy, he was more than ready to take her right out here. And so were you. 

His hands drifted down your back to your ass, unde ryour pants to cup your flesh, enjoying the way you moaned into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. You let your hands wander down, feeling the muscle under his black vest, until you felt your fingertips reach the cold metal buckle of his belt. You smiled against his lips, and he knew where you were taking this. 

You unclipped the belt hastily, smooth motions until the clasp fell apart and dangled low. The buttons came next, you undid them without letting your lips leave his. His hands followed suit, reaching around to the front to swiftly unzip your soft tan pants and tug them down your legs. The backs of your thighs were hit with the cold, hard plastic of the cargo box, mingled with the warmthness of Ghost’s hands on you. 

He pulled away, not before kissing your cheek, leaving you breathless and wanting. He smiled down at you, seeing in your eyes how much you wanted him, reflecting in his own of how badly he needed you. Right now. 

“Please,” you whispered, as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, pulling it down gently. Your hand slid into his pants, palming the hardness starting to form between his legs. He groaned quietly, and you could see the expressions on his face more clearly than ever. It was even better than you could have imagined. His eyes fluttered shut, his mouth slightly open as your hand wrapped around his dick, moving it up and down so you could hear more of his pretty noises. 

Dragging your thumb over the tip brought most of his reaction, a short whine falling from his lips as you gathered his pre cum on your thumb, dragging it down his dick and repeating the motion until he palced his hand over yours.

“Don’t get me too excited all at once, sweetheart,” Ghost breathed, huffing a laugh quietly. “I still got you to take care of, don’t I?” With that, he knelt before you, never taking his eyes off you, and pulled your tan pants down to your ankles along with your underwear. Ghost smirked, seeing how wet you were already, practically glistening in the moonlight which seeped through the ashy clouds. 

He wasted no time in burying himself between your thighs, licking and sucking with an undying hunger. One thing you noticed is that he never looked away from you. He kept them on you, at your expressions, the way your head tipped forward and your mouth fell open as his lips wrapped around your clit. 

You didn’t realise how touch starved you were, nor how much he was either, until you felt your skin on one another. Letting your head roll back, you let out a small whimper as his finger pushed inside of you. Fuck, the man had bigger hands than you thought. 

But then he stopped, stopped moving his finger inside of you and stopped his tongue from moving in its perfect way. “No, sweetheart. You don’t get to look away from me now. I’ll only keep going if you keep your eyes on me,” he instructed, no room for negotiation in his tone. So you complied, looking down at his lust riddled eyes and not breaking contact. That’s when he smirked back up at you. “Good to know you can still follow orders, soldier.”

Then he resumed, fast paced and unruly as he fucked you on his finger before adding a second, taking his time to make sure you were ready for him. Your legs started to lose control and your legs began to shake, so you had your hand on the back of his head for support. And also to pull him closer. 

You felt yourself nearing your limit, your orgasm just mere moments away from taking over your body. But he pulled away just before you could come, leaving you wanting and restless.

“Fuck, no wait, Simon. Please,” you begged, holding his hand where it was and praying he would continue. The smirk on his face already told you your answer.

“Well, you’ve got a decision to make here,” he toyed, removing his fingers and placing them in his mouth, revelling at your taste before speaking again. “I can either keep going like this…” he leaned up so his lips were right next to your ear. “Or I can bend you over this cargo and fuck you until you learn to call me by my rank, soldier. ”

You already knew exactly what you wanted.

Before you knew it, the Leiutenant had you bent over the hard plastic boxes, your pants down by your ankles while his pants were unzipped and what laid beneath his boxers ached to be inside you.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the box as you felt him push inside you slowly, filling you in one singular move. He groaned as he felt you clench around his dick, the noises as he rocked back and forth inside you were music to his ears. You covered your mouth with one hand as he moved faster, gripping your hips and fucking you at an unrelenting pace. The cargo boxes creaked with your combined weight, if the guys weren’t being as loud as they were with the music playing in the background, they definitely would have heard you.

Ghost saw your hand covering your mouth and took it upon himself to wrap his hand around your wrist and pull it away, pinning the hand behind your back. “No, no, love. Don’t be hiding those pretty noises from me.”

“But…”

His grip tightened on your wrist, not hard enough to bruise, just hard enough so you felt it. “But what, soldier?”

“They might hear, Leuitenant,” you whimpered, and you heard a low chuckle in response. You felt his other hand leave your hip and tighten around your hair, pulling your head back so it was practically next to his.

“Sweetheart, if they hear those lovely little moans you’ve been making for me, then they’ll be so lucky,” he whispered before thrusting into your particularly hard and earning a gaspy breath from you. “There we go, baby.”

His praises, his words, his voice…it was like a drug to you and you were entirely addicted to it. You needed more, you craved it. 

You could feel yourself growing close once again, and from the looks of it, so did Simon. So he didn’t hold back, he gave you exactly what you needed. W one hand on your lower back to push you down, the other gripped your hip with vigour as he pounded into you relentlessly. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth fell open as your fingernails dug into the harsh plastic against your skin. 

“Come on, love. I know you’re close. Come for me, baby. Come on my cock like a good girl.”

Good girl.

That sent you over the edge. You clamped down on his cock almost as hard as your teeth clamped down on your lip, stopping the loud whines of Simon’s name be heard by everyone on your team. He felt you release onto his dick, your juices drownong his cock, sending him spiralling over the edge straight after you. Unleashing a guttaral groan, you felt him finish inside you, coating your walls in his come. Red walls painted white. 

He leant back, smiling to himself as he watched it leak out of you, smiling even more so when he heard your needy whine as he pulled his cock out of your soaked pussy. Leaning down, Simon kissed the side of your head before pulling your pants up and covering your body as though he hadn’t just torn them down to be deep inside you. 

“Simon,” he heard you breathe out as you turned to face him, seeing him tuck himself away and zip his pants back up.

He cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his eye. “You did so good, love.” His thumb caressed your cheek affectionately and you smiled back up at him. Hsi lips met yours for a soft kiss, and his lips met your cheek for another. “We should go back in before they think we got lost.”

You chuckled in agreement, pushing yourself upright off the box and feeling your legs wobble a little. Simon noticed.

“You gonna be good to walk back in? Or do you need some help, soldier?” Simon teased with a smirk on his lips. 

“Fuck off,” you joked, chuckling as you playfully batted away his hand that was extended out to you. “I can walk just fine, thank you, Leuitenant.” You were lying to yourself and he knew it, you could feel the way your legs shook as you tried to take a step. 

He led you back inside, his hand on the small of your back. You were greeted with the warm, aromatic smell of food and the sounds of your teammates conversing amongst one another. Soap was the first to wave you over.

“Was wondering where you two were. Thought Ghost might have been complaining over that mission,” he murmured as you passed him, sitting beside him in what used to be Ghost’s seat. 

“No, he wasn’t complaining,” you smirked, feeling Ghost pass by you and sit on your right side. He huffed a chuckle to himself at your words. You’re right, he certainly wasn’t complaining. Underneath the table you felt his hand glide across your thigh, firmly planting his palm on your leg, squeezing it gently before letting his thumb trace patterns over your soft pants.

You all sat there for a while, talking and joking, all the while you could feel the memory of Ghost between your legs, the evidence still on your inner thighs. You were definitely going to need another shower after this. 

You felt a whisper in your ear and it almost made you jump.

“Planning on staying in your own bed tonight, soldier? Or do you like the idea of keeping me company in mine?” Ghost mumbled in your ear, his hand travelling the slightest bit higher.

Leaning in, you matched the level of his voice so it was unheard amongst anyone else. “I’ll join you, as long as I can shower first.”

You heard a low grunt in return. “Is that an invitation?”

You smiled, leaning further in until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Let’s see where the night takes us, shall we, Leuitenant?”

[doobea]

DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR - REO MIKAGE

synopsis: Being a college student sucks. Having a crush on your best friend also sucks. Your best friend having a crush on your other best friend is . . . kinda the worst. In which, Reo is hopelessly in love with you but you’re hard crushing on Nagi.

-> MASTERLIST. -> PLAYLIST.

contents: second lead syndrome feat. fem!reader & reo, heavy narration in the beginning as per usual whoops, also in an au where bluelock never happened LOL, summer festival arc, unnamed love interest for nagi, a little wink wink at the end, no more angst i promise!! word count: 4K a/n: omg im slowly getting back into the writing groove but man life has been something else ;-; sorry for the long wait friends but here is the second to last part hehe

ALTAIR -> prev. -> next.

“You should’ve tied it first before putting it up,” Reo says before handing you a brush.

Reo’s hair always looks well-kept, unlike the disheveled mess of Nagi’s, and definitely not like the nest of your current hair. There are maybe at least eight bobby pins in your hair right now that are struggling to keep themselves in place as you manage to tangle your locks into a twisted bun. And, now looking closer into the vanity, your makeup looks almost too gaudy, and cheap.

“No shit,” You cringe at how defensive you sound as you take the brush from him. Reo flinches just slightly as your fingers make quick contact but levels himself out again soon as they disappear.

There’s hardly ever tension between you and Reo. You two have always been the closest and the only time where you did have an argument was over something stupidly mundane. 

It’s been almost two weeks since his ‘proposition’ and you haven’t said or done anything in that regard. Nagi had suggested going to the summer festival to lighten the mood. He even added later on that he might invite the girl he’s been interested in. You still don’t know how to exactly feel about that. Needless to say, a group activity might lessen some of the tension if you weren’t fussing over your outfit for tonight.

Summer festivals weren’t a thing for you growing up, but you’d gotten accustomed to the lifetime exposure via social media and live streams. You’ve only attended one back in middle school but it was a small local festival, maybe the size of three blocks. The one tonight is apparently the biggest one around the area, students around campus have been raving about it since last month and have already flaunted their traditional outfits online. 

You’re starting to second-guess yourself. Your hair, makeup, the color of the yukata—all of it is starting to clash together.

You start removing the bobby pins and grab a brush, tugging at your stands in frustration.

“Hey, you’re going to give yourself split ends if you do that,” Reo chastises, his tone gentle. Then a sudden realization that he has always been gentle when it comes to you. He holds out his hand again, as if he’s expecting you to return the brush.

So you do. 

“Sorry,” You watch as Reo pulls up a chair behind you.

Silently, he begins to work on your hair, combing from the bottom up. He takes the time to brush out each knot without tugging at your scalp. You take this time to distract yourself by going on your phone and eyeing everyone’s outfits for tonight. 

Bachira posted his yukata about an hour ago with Isagi, Chigiri, and Kunigami mingling in the background. The caption read: #readyforparisfashionweek #groupgoals. It’s his usual selfie pose, a cheeky tongue out accompanied by a peace sign, while the rest of the group seemed to be walking towards the festival grounds with popsicles in hand. It’s a cute photo and it makes you wonder if you’re able to post something similar later tonight, maybe without all the weird feelings fluttering around in your mind. 

Suddenly, you feel a sharp pinch. 

“Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Reo pauses and sets the brush down on the vanity. Yeah, your hair is super tangled. 

You look up from your phone, only to meet his eyes in the mirror and, for some reason, this makes you want to hide. 

“No, it’s okay,” You reply lamely and snap your head back to your lap. To be fair, if you had done this yourself most of your hair would’ve left your scalp.

Reo picks up the brush again and, by the time you’re done scrolling through your front page, he’s combed through most of the the tangles, now producing long strokes through your locks. At some point, he abandons the brush and replaces it with his own fingers. You can feel his blunt nails and digits rake against your skin and something about how he drags from the crown of your head to the nape of your neck makes you uncomfortably warm and drowsy. Warm like when your mother would used to scold you for missing a mark on an exam and drowsy like how your body would decompress in bed after a long day out.

“You tired?” Reo gives your shoulder a few squeezes and you jolt in response.

“No,” You’re quick to deny and rub your eyes to shake away any hint of evidence. There’s no way you plan to sleep the night away. “I still need to plan the rest of my outfit.” You ball your fists into the fabric of your yukata and hear Reo breathe out from behind.

“Hey.” 

Reo rolls his chair back enough to view your outfit from the vanity and puts both of his hands up in front of him, his fingers making a makeshift photo frame with you in the center of it. His lips finally crack a smile, probably a genuine one throughout this whole weird side-stepping period that you two created, and pretends to take a picture. 

“I know you probably don’t care but,” and this time he actually pulls out his phone to snap a photo, ignoring the small sound of protest from you. “I think you look good the way you currently are.”

Your eyes are downcast again, and you feel the need to avoid his gaze because… because what? He’s making you nervous? Or that you feel weirdly guilty about something? You still haven’t brought up the bracelet to Reo but why would you? Maybe there’s a small part of you that’s afraid of something being there. And is that something supposed to be there to begin with?

“Thanks…” You say eventually.

The summer festival is infinitely larger in the city than the one you experienced back home, and the pictures on social media doesn’t capture its full widescale vibrancy. The main road to their university is closed off for the festival, and the usual vehicle-packed two-lane road is now flipped into a row of street food vendors and local artisans. There’s a constant drumming sound and chanting echoing in the background, growing louder and louder the further you go in since the main road leads to an old shrine up the side of a small mountain. Even with all of the traffic of couples, families, and students alike, it feels intimately smaller here compared to the countryside.

“Should we head to the taiyaki vendor? I’ve heard that the guy who makes them is a top private chef,” Nagi’s date—you think her name is Nanako—is clinging onto Nagi’s arm and pointing in the direction where you vaguely see a line slowly wrapping around the block. Guess the taiyaki man is popular.

Nagi shrugs, not in an uncaring manner, but in a way where it can be read as ‘I’m happy with whatever you decide’ type of way. It’s weird seeing him like this, especially since you’ve been by his side for the past four years. 

And the girl, Nanako, she’s everything that a guy could possibly ask for. Aside from her flawless skin and cute voice, she’s been nothing but kind and generous towards you and Reo throughout the evening. The Hermes gift baskets were one thing (seriously, how did Nagi manage to find an heiress of all people?) but the fact she said she wanted to get to know you better and suggested a one-on-one brunch next weekend is another story. She’s nice, helpful, and recently found out that she’s even trilingual with the way she helped out three separate tourists on the way here. 

You feel silly for thinking you could possibly be better. You can’t even bring yourself to hate her.

“Actually,” Reo speaks up, there’s a tinge of playfulness in his voice as he starts to guide you by the shoulders towards the opposite direction. “I think we’re gonna check out the steamed buns at a different stall, but we’ll meet up later for the fireworks, yeah?”

Nanako blinks while Nagi simply nods. 

“Sure, let us know,” Nagi waves you two off and you fight off the urge to pinch Reo in the arm.

“What was that about?” You loudly whisper to him once out of earshot from the couple.

Reo pinches the bridge of his nose and scoffs. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“I would’ve been fine,” Your elbow makes an impact on his ribcage. “Now she’s going to think I’m weird.”

“Since when did you care so much about his date?” The word date makes your stomach physically flip on its side. 

“I don’t care about his date,” You turn away from Reo, now refocusing your attention back on the festival and inhaling the savory scents from the bun vendor in front of you. There’s no line so that’s good, you’ve been saving your stomach all day for this. “I only care about making a good first impression, that’s all.”

“Then don’t force yourself to do things you’re uncomfortable with,” and you hate the face that you make in response to that because he’s looking at you with an ‘I told you so’ smirk. You wonder if Reo knows how stupid he looks with that expression, along with his stupid perfectly fitted yukata, with his dumb shiny sandals, his well-tied back hair, and—

“Two steamed buns?” The vendor calls out beside you.

“Yes, please,” Reo slips past you and hands over the man more change than needed. He’s always been generous, especially when it comes to local businesses. “One red bean and one custard.”

The two of you don’t speak again until you manage to find an empty bench by a long staircase at the base of a hill. Your hands are both stuffed with boba, giant fried squid on a stick (Reo claims it’s the best in town), a takeout container filled to the brim with takoyaki, and steamed buns. One thing you will say about the festival is that city prices are nearly triple the prices you would see back home. Seriously, it should be a crime to charge 1500 ¥ for a dozen takoyaki balls. But who are you complaining? Reo’s been paying for everything tonight anyway. 

“So, how is it?” Reo watches you closely as you take a bite out of the fried squid. It’s annoying, seeing how his eyes widen with every chew and movement you make, and you could’ve sworn he held onto his damn breath as you swallowed. 

But he’s right. It’s really, really good. Though, you can’t let him have all the satisfaction tonight, right? 

“The ones back home might be better,” You say with a fake pout and you almost break character from the way his eyebrows contort in confusion. You take another bite, and another, before saying, “Maybe I should bring you guys there sometime. Doubt you’ll survive on farmland, though.”

“I did boy scouts when I was younger, I think I’ll be fine.” He replies, simple and overly confident in tone.

Reo? Out in the wild? Willingly as a child? Yeah, sure. 

“Don’t give me that look.”

You take another bite from the squid. “What look?”

He stares blankly. “You think I’m incapable out in the woods? That I depend on civilization too much?”

“Oh,” You roll your eyes, didn’t expect him to get so touchy on the subject. Maybe Reo secretly wants to prove to you and everyone else that he can do everything without feeling the need to rely on his privileged background. 

You nudge your shoulders towards the shrine on top of the wooded hill, its stone stairs dimly lit by warm lighting from the paper lanterns on each side of the steps. You don’t need to say anything to let Reo know that you’re challenging him. The ‘hide and seek’ part is implied. One thing about Reo is that he’s stubborn, so of course he’s going to say yes in order to prove a point that he might fail. But isn’t that what makes him fun to be around?

“Race you?”

He finishes his drink before standing up, clutching the rest of the leftovers in one hand as he extends out the other to you. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you race against me, dummy.”

“I can be athletic like you, too,” but you take his hand anyway. Somehow, it fits nicely against yours.

“You can say that if you win.” Reo laughs. 

“Which I will, by the way.” You shoot back. 

Reo gently tugs you close to his side, weaving through the crowds and towards the steep steps leading up to the shrine. He throws you a smile, one that you can’t tell if it’s filled with some truth or dramatic for the sake of being dramatic. “Little do you know, I always win.”

You hate how he’s always right. 

How many times has he been right today? Probably one too many for your liking.

“Still having trouble finding me?” You hear his teasing voice in the shadows behind the trees…no—wait, maybe he’s behind the shrine instead? Ugh, it sucks how his purple yukata also blends perfectly in the night too.

“No, my eyes are just adjusting to the dark.” You reply back.

“Pfft, you said that like five minutes ago.” His voice is clear, he’s definitely near you. 

You tiptoe around a few tree roots, searching behind the large bush in front of you, only to be disappointed when it’s empty. “Yeah, well, they take a while to adjust.” 

God, he can be so annoying when he wants to be. 

A distant roar of thunder interrupts your and Reo's banter as you continue your unsuccessful hunt. The sky darkens, and raindrops begin to fall, increasing in severity gradually before completely blurring the already dark surroundings.

“Well, this is just great,” you mumble.

Reo finally emerges from the shadows, that being a tree a few feet away, hands over his head in a last-minute attempt to keep himself dry. “Looks like we'll have to take shelter,” he says, motioning his head toward the shrine. 

You both start running towards its small wooden flight of stairs, evading developing puddles and screaming as the rain soaks you to the bone.

The wooden frames and panels from the building provide some needed shelter, but the storm is relentless. The air inside is warm, humid, and damp, the scent of ancient wood fills the space. You and Reo catch your breaths, both of you overlooking the hazy festival grounds from the entrance. Unlike your situation, at least the people below have actual tents and umbrellas. 

“Well, at least we're not wet anymore,” Reo says, glancing around the room. 

The sound of rain hitting the roof echoes through the empty space. The dim light from the lanterns cast shadows on Reo's face, giving his features a softened appearance. You slowly find yourself eyeing the way his wet hair clings to his forehead and the way his yukata sticks to his frame. 

Weird, everything today has been so fucking weird. Why are you sending your best friend goggling eyes right now when you should be feeling distraught that your crush is probably sucking his date’s face off. Actually… maybe don’t think about that.

“So, what now?” you ask, mainly rhetorically. The storm isn’t showing any signs of letting up anytime soon and you briefly spot the leftovers from earlier just outside of the shrine’s steps. You quickly rush out to grab them.

“Well,” Reo’s voice cuts through the rhythmic pounding from the rain and finds a dry corner to settle down. He pats at the empty spot next to him and closes his eyes. “Wanna talk about it?”

And this is the main thing you wanted to avoid all month. 

You want to say no but, since you're such an expert in 'Reo-speak' and 'Reo-body language’ for today, you can tell with one look in his eyes that he's not taking 'no' as an answer. 

"It's been difficult," You admit, allowing yourself to plop down next to him, shoulders briefly touching. “I’m sorry if things have been tense between us, I honestly didn’t know what to say or make of it.”

"I know," Reo replies, slowly as if he's hesitating to continue the conversation that he brought up. 

Reo shuffles closer and eyes the large bell in front of him. “I should be the one saying sorry. That was dumb for me to even suggest that.” His teeth clenches around the sentence and he can’t keep up his usual sarcastic tone and his voice drops, sounding gentle and almost self-loathing. 

He’s done an expert job at keeping a distance within the past two weeks. Only really reaching out if Nagi felt too lazy to contact you himself, but even that was at a bare minimum. There’s a part of you that wants to understand and question the imaginary meaning of your friendship, whether he meant anything by it. The idea of him actually having feelings and shifting the dynamic even further is a thought you’ve been entertaining since the start of the day.

“It wasn’t that dumb,” You attempt to eat some of the leftover takoyaki, only to realize that most of them have already fallen apart from being soaked. “Ugh—I mean I appreciate the sentiment and I guess it did work…” 

“Don’t eat that,” he places a hand over yours as you attempt to go in for another bite. His hand feels oddly warm and comforting. “You’re going to get sick.” 

“And you’re not always in charge of me,” though you eventually do follow his suggestion. There’s absolutely no chance for you to feel remotely satisfied from a soggy, cold meal in this predicament. 

“You should at least take care of yourself.”

“Ok, I take it back, maybe you suck at distracting me.” 

You end up pushing the rest of the food to the side and resting your chin on top of your tucked knees. There’s a long moment of silence you both allow to pass before your internal monologue shifts into overdrive.

“I’m—I’m an idiot too, Reo. I feel gross with myself.”

Reo remains quiet, waiting for you to continue, and you find solace in the silence. You're not sure where this conversation is heading, but it feels like a long-overdue reckoning.

"I mean, I don't even know why I feel weird about it. Nagi's a good guy, and Nanako seems great. They're happy, and that should be enough, right?" You release a heavy sigh, trying to articulate the tangled mess of emotions.

Reo shifts beside you, his gaze focused on the raindrops sliding down the shrine's entrance. "Jealousy?"

The word hangs in the air, and you hesitate before nodding. "Yeah, maybe. I shouldn't be, and I hate admitting it, but I am. It's just so stupid."

"Feelings aren't stupid," Reo says softly. "They're just... complicated. And it's okay to feel jealous. Happens to me all the time." The last bit is barely audible but you manage to pick it up. 

Your eyes lazily drift to his wet frame again. Anyone who’s soaked head to toe in this muggy weather with shoes covered in a gritty mixture of dirt and tiny pebbles should look gross. His small ponytail had come undone some time ago, and the black tank top underneath him is now slightly peeking through from the faint dim lighting provided by the remaining lanterns. You’re positive that you look like a mess, and that any regular person would also look like a mess, and yet here is he looking like some kind of pulse-quickening, smoke show of a train wreck you couldn’t look away. 

The sound of the next thunder rumbling fills the silence between you two. 

Then, Reo calls out your name. The way he says it is completely different. His voice is deeper, your name falls through his lips rapidly and sharply. It sounds nothing like the way Nagi would say it, dragged out and elongated. You’re usually no good with picking up symbolism all too well but you’re not that dense. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out that there’s something in Reo’s tone that makes the purposiveness of your name painfully obvious. 

It comes slowly but you find yourself relishing in it when his hand reaches forward, brushing away some of the wet strands sticking around your face. “You shouldn’t have to compare yourself to anyone,” Reo tucks a few locks behind your ear before pulling away. 

“Sometimes it’s difficult not to,” you swallow the growing knot down your throat and sink further against the ground. 

“Hey, look at me for a second,” Reo calls out. 

He caresses your face once more, this time with a different intention. His palm rests heavily on your cheek and Reo tilts your chin upwards. His eyes pierce directly into yours and… you can’t tear yourself away. The scarce lighting is able to make out the soft redness on his face and you find yourself pressing your face against his touch again. 

Your arms hesitantly entangle themselves around his neck, watching closely as his Adam’s apple bobs at your slightest movements. You also take this moment to realize that he smells really good. Leather, cardamom, and hints of vanilla. It’s some expensive brand by Tom Ford, a cologne you remembered him receiving from his parents during his high school graduation party. The rain and muggy summer air only amplified the scent but you didn’t mind it. 

Reo tangles his fingers into your hair and leans in, pressing his lips to the temple of your head. He breathes out of your name and you can feel his body shift, almost rocking side to side. You note that Reo always does that when he’s extremely nervous. 

At some point, his lips move down and hover over yours, barely millimeters apart. You try not to think too much of your own painfully disheveled state, or the fact that you’re still fucking confused about what’s happening right now. Is anything of this supposed to be okay?

Fuck it. 

Your arms tug Reo’s head forward enough to close the gap and your lips meet in the same kind of fast-forward, slow-motion feeling that you always see in those cheesy romance movies growing up. Reo’s lips feel far smoother and fuller than it has any right to be and you’re fairly certain that the faint citrus taste is from the chapstick he always carries. You’re becoming hyperaware of everything going on — from the heavy breathing from both ends of the party, to his silky, damp hair tickling your hands, down to the rapid pulse hammering against your chest and neck. 

A quiet noise of approval spills from you and Reo pulls you closer, his hands now find residency around your waist and back to prevent you from stumbling over, almost to remind you that he’s your anchor.

Eventually, you finally break for some air. 

As you gasp for breath, Reo leans his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily in the humid air of the shrine. You can see the reflection of his eyes, dark and intense, studying your face as if searching for answers.

Reo pulls back slightly, his hand still resting around. "I like you. I like you for the past few years now and I don’t want to hide that anymore.”

The fact that your body is still halfway pulled into his lap melts away every ounce of apprehension from your bones. This is not a dream. This is very much real. 

For a brief moment, you wonder if it’s worth bringing up questions of when and why. Your background doesn’t exactly fit into the Mikage’s standards of high luxury and... again, is this even okay? 

Just when you’re starting to process the weight of Reo’s words, the sliding doors fly open and an all too familiar voice cuts through the air. 

Nagi appears at the entrance, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene. “Am I interrupting something?”

TAGLIST - OPEN

@celestair @kitorin @popponn @yoisami @anurst @katsukiiishoe @yuzurins @vitaniangel-blog @kunikame @miwafei @astruoise @faeroow @wooasecret @limerence-lu @jaynawayna @iloveblogging2 @futuristicxie @rinlvr @au-ghosttype @wavetokio @yuusami @phtogravi @funnibunneh @idontevenknow129

[repulsiveliquidation]

Angel in the House

Ona Batlle x Reader, Part 2.5 of [She's going to be okay.] [La Princesa] [Royalty]

Fluff, just fluff. Okay as I was writing the angsty writer in me came out and there is a little. Whoops.

Word count : 4.2k

“I’ll get her darling, you go back to bed.”

You climb out of bed and walk over to the cot that has a crying La Princesa. It’s two thirty in the morning, Eliana having woken the both of you up three time prior. Being a six-month-old wasn’t easy, she gave both her parents a run for their money.

“What’s wrong my girl?” you ask her quietly, picking her up gently. She’s fussing, you check her diaper but it’s clean. You quickly realize that she’s probably hungry, having been fed a few hours ago. You sigh, kissing Eliana on the forehead softly. You’re going to need to wake Ona, you had hoped you didn’t need to and she could sleep. She had bags under her eyes like you did but you had promised to take the night shifts since she was still on break from football and was home with Eliana the whole day. You slowly walk back over to the bed, rocking the still fussing Eliana.

“Ona?”

“Hm?”

“She’s hungry, hermosa. Can you feed her?”

Ona sits up and rubs her eyes. She looks extremely tired, you feel bad for having to wake her. She nods and silently pulls her (your) hoodie off and slips her bra off her shoulder. You hand her Eliana and she begins to feed her. You walk back around the bed and climb back in, gently sitting behind Ona and maneuvering her between your legs. You look down over her shoulder and admire Eliana, her soft nursing sounds bringing joy to both of your hearts. You kiss Ona’s ear as she leans back into your chest, your arms wrapping around her and holding Eliana too.

“Thank you, darling.” You whisper into her ear; she looks back and smiles, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. “She is perfect, ¿Sí?” Ona asks, hand coming up to stroke Eliana’s cheek softly.

“She is so, so perfect. Just like her Mama.”

Eliana unlatches with a soft pop; you move out from behind them to take her. She burps but spits up all over you, earning a soft scold and a kiss to her tiny nose. You bounce her in your arms for what seems like hours until eventually she does fall asleep. You lay her back in the crib and pull your shirt off, climbing back into bed where Ona seems to have abandoned her shirt too. She wakes up with a start when she feels your side of the bed dip, turning around and facing you. You smile and pull her into your arms, she smiles softly and kisses your chin.

“I’ve got the day off tomorrow.” You tell her softly, she looks up with a surprised look.

“Since when?”

“Since I asked Jonatan at training yesterday.”

“And just when were you going to tell me?”

“In the morning when you yelled at me for being late.”

She chuckles and playfully punches your chest, giggling into it when you lean in kiss her forehead.

“If you’re up to it, I thought maybe we could have a family day out. Maybe drive up to Vilassar de Mar to see Mum and Dad?”

“I’d love that.”

“Good because I called and told them we were coming. Mum’s cooking your favorite.”

//

“Y/N, we’re going to be late!”

“Babe, it’s a half hour drive. We’re not going to be late!”

“You will be when I leave without you!”

You walk out of the bedroom with Eliana’s diaper bag that you’ve triple checked. She’s fast asleep in her mother’s arms, gripping her shirt oh so cutely. You walk over to Ona and kiss her lips softly, before kissing Eliana too so she didn’t feel left out.

All buckled up in the car, you began the drive to Ona’s hometown. She sat in the back with Eliana, softly singing along to the radio. It was a beautiful sunny day in Barcelona, you wondered if everyone would be inclined to go down to the beach for a bit.

//

"¡Hija, te he extrañado!"

"¡Hola mamá, yo también te he extrañado!"

“Y/N! My darlings, come in, come in!”

Ona’s mother was quick to take Eliana out of your hands as she cooed softly at her. You walked in with Ona, hand on the small of her back. She sat in the living room with a loud sigh, leaning her head back. You stood in front of her, eyes full of concern.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s just, we can finally rest if mamá watches Eli for the day.”

“I think she would love nothing more, darling.”

You both look over at her mother, smiling when she tries to get Eli to smile. It’s heartwarming, a memory that both of you will treasure. Just as her mother pulls another funny face, Ona’s father and brother walk in, loudly greeting you both. Joan pulls you in for a tight hug, scolding you for not bringing his niece over more. Her father joins his wife, efforts doubling to try and make Eli smile. She’s an easy-going baby, she loves the attention she gets from all the people who love her dearly.

Eli is left with her abuelo as you and Ona go into the kitchen to help bring the food out. The patio had a long table set up, the warm Barcelona sun beating down on your necks. Food in Spain was a love language, you all ate and ate until you couldn’t anymore. Ona dipped inside to feed Eli, coming back twenty minutes later with a happy baby swaddled comfortably against her mothers’ chest.

//

“Can you take her bebé, she’s fussing again.” Ona asks as everyone sits inside to enjoy the A/C. A habit that clearly developed when Eli was in the womb was the fact that she calmed almost immediately when she heard your voice. No one else could calm the fussy baby better than sweet words from you. Her eyes were wide and attentive when she heard you talking, a little inkling of a smile etched on her face.

“Hola, guapa, you’re giving Mama a hard time huh? Mummy’s got you, you’re such a fussy girl today. You’re just feeling gassy aren’t you, you cheeky monkey? Aren’t you?”

Eli giggled and cooed softly, eyes wide like she always had. You lean back into the couch holding her, softly whispering sweet nothings to your daughter. Her eyes start to feel heavy as she falls asleep on your chest. Ona records the whole interaction, excited to send it to the girls immediately after.

Ona moves and sits beside you, smiling down at the two of you. Her heart fills with love, proud of how far the journey of starting a family had taken both of you. There were many failed attempts at getting pregnant at the start; her body not accepting the first few implants. When she got the call in the changing room that day, she was more scared than anything. You both hadn’t gotten this far before and it terrified her. Every day she hoped and prayed that it would work and there would be no complications till that night in the emergency room where she feared the worst. Now, as she sat her in her parents’ house with her child in your arms and you beaming down at her fondly; she knew that it was all worth it.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Your voice pulls her out of her thoughts as she simply leans in and kisses you. Its chaste, the kind of kiss that has relief laced into it.

“Sorry, just thinking about how far we’ve come. As a couple and as parents.”

“I would do it all over again baby, as long as it’s with you.”

“You’re getting soft.”

“For the two of you? I don’t mind it one bit.”

//

The both of you were cuddling on the couch, Eliana on your chest as she took her afternoon nap. Everyone had decided to do the same, everyone in a little corner to themselves to indulge in a food-induced coma. Ona was patting Eliana’s back softly, head tucked into your neck. This was your favorite part of your day, when you came home from training to join your girls on the couch as they were usually napping when you got home. You kissed Ona’s forehead softly, leaving a lingering kiss there before pulling back.

“Mamá has agreed to watch Eli for a few hours.”

“What for?”

“I’m taking you out on a date.”

“I don’t have anything to wear; bebita, I’m in sweatpants!”

“You’ve never looked more beautiful, mi amor. We leave at 5, hm? Let’s take a family nap now.”

//

She did in fact change; she wouldn’t be caught dead on a date in sweats. You tried to convince her that she looks gorgeous even in sweatpants but she just gave you an annoyed look and whisked herself upstairs to rummage in her childhood bedroom for something to change into.

Her parents were more than happy to watch Eli; beaming proudly at her as we left for our date. Ona was being the worried one, telling her parents to call even if she sneezed.

“Babe, she’s in good hands.”

“Yes, but they aren’t my hands and it’s making me nervous.”

“Your parents are wonderful with babies; they raised you and Joan, no?”

“I suppose, we just haven’t left her without us before.”

“We won’t be out too long then, we can get home early and cuddle after, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too. C’mon, I wanna spoil my girl.”

You parked the car right up front of the very first restaurant you and Ona went to on a date. It was a little family-owned Spanish place, she had insisted you try it and she took you. Midway through dinner, you asked if this was her way of taking you out on a date. She almost spat out her wine, coughing loudly as she tried to recover from your question. Red as a beet she answered, “Only if you wanted it to be,” to which you replied “I was hoping so.” You had insisted on dessert later on, after sharing a flan you both went back home with smitten smiles on your faces and sweet texts that never stopped. You made it official at training two weeks later, having gone on about 6 dates, by grabbing her face and kissing her in front of everyone when they were teasing.

“There, she’s my girlfriend alright! Happy now?”

“She sure as hell is.”

“Reservation for L/N?”

“Ah, yes! Buenas noches! Right this way.”

“Allow me, my darling.” You say, pulling her chair out as she walks in behind you.

"Gracias, bebé.”

Looking over the menu, the restaurant was still packed for a Wednesday. You were sat in a quiet corner, away from the hustle and the bustle. You start with a house wine, smiling softly when Ona grins widely, excited for your date.

“You remembered.”

“Of course, how could I forget? You took me out on our first date here. Although I didn’t know that I was on a date at the time. Until I asked.”

“I was nervous you would say no so I was okay with us just going to dinner as friends.”

“I’m glad you didn’t ask, darling.”

You order your food and the night goes smoothly. The food was as good as you remember, Ona laughing when you reminisce about her little wine accident the first time you were here. You both felt refreshed by dessert, needing some time to yourselves to recuperate and be the best for Eliana.

In the car, Ona has her hand laced in yours in her lap. Her thumb brushes across your knuckles softly, the lights of Vilassar de Mar beaming across your faces as you drove back to her parents’ house.

“Hola, guapas. Feeling refreshed?” her mother greeted as walked in the front door. Eliana was sleeping in her grandfather’s arms, as his eyes too were feeling heavy.

“Yes, mamá. It was perfect. Was Eli good?”

“She was an angel. Come on, I’ll pack you some leftovers to take home.”

//

Ona and Eli were both fast asleep in the backseat on the drive home. The streets were quiet; not a soul in sight this late. You got home and quietly brought all the gifts Eli got into the house before waking Ona. Her face was squished into the side of Eli’s carrier, finger resting on her small cheek.

“Darling, we’re home.”

“Already? Hm, I really fell asleep.”

“Yes come on, wanna get my girls into bed. We’ve had a long day.”

“I’ll get her, c’mere.”

You pull Eli’s carrier out of the car and help Ona, holding her hand and walking into the house softly. Eli sleeps like the dead, not even making a sound when the door slams a little.

“Sorry, Pequeño. I’ll get her to bed, darling. You go wash up.”

“Are you sure? I can take her.”

“Go, mi vida. I got her.”

When you use Spanish despite being English, Ona’s stomach does backflips. Just hearing you willing to use her native tongue makes her heart swoon. She melts when you use affectionate terms you made the girls teach you, your pronunciation improving over the years of being together. She listens to you, heading towards the bathroom to wash up. She decides on a little bath, hoping that you’ll catch her in here and join her. You do, smiling at the sight of her with her hair up in a messy bun, goddess-like body hidden by lavender-scented bubbles. Your clothes join hers on the floor, turning the lights down and lighting a candle before climbing into the perfectly hot water behind her. She melts into your arms, sighing softly as your hands caress her legs and torso. She’s had a rough couple months since having Eliana. Her once athletic body slowly going back to normal. She knew she’d probably never go back to her previous look but she was relieved that she had someone like you in her corner to remind her of how beautiful she looked despite the stretch marks and other imperfections. You had stood in front of a mirror with her and kissed it all, leaving her blushing and more confident than before. You loved her then and now, every mark a lasting impression and constant reminder of the bundle of joy sleeping in the other room.

“You’re the best.” She says quietly, reaching for your hands to hold around her. She sighs loudly, leaning into your arms again.

“You deserve the best, querida.”

You both sit in the warm water till it goes cold; Ona and you just made out in the bath, the calming scent of lavender from the water and eucalyptus from the candle made it the perfect wind down. Eliana didn’t wake up at all, clearly the day out with her grandparents made her tired. Drying off, you stand there and watch her; eyes filled with fondness for her. She gets self-conscious, shyly wrapping the towel around herself and walking out into the room before you could say anything.

“Hey, don’t run from me!”

By the time you get into the room, she’s got on the biggest hoodie she’s got and is pulling on sweatpants.

“Doll, it’s 30 degrees in here. You’re trying to cook yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, don’t lie to me. Talk to me, beautiful.”

“I’m not.”

“Huh?”

You step closer to her, having pulled on a pair of shorts and a sports bra yourself. 

“I’m not beautiful. Not right now.”

“What do you mean, cariño? Of course, you’re beautiful.”

“NO! I’M DISGUSTING! YOU’RE JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE YOU PITY ME!”

She runs back into the bathroom and locks herself in. You stand there shocked, not knowing what you did or said to set her off. You knew she was struggling mentally too and you had tried your best to be there for her and make sure she knew she was loved, clearly you hadn’t been doing enough. Eliana had woken up to the yelling, you walked over and picked her up, cradling her gently.

“Shh, little girl. Mama’s just a little upset, hm? She’ll be okay, she’s just a little overwhelmed. I need you to go back to sleep so I can check on her, deal?” Eliana settles almost immediately, going back to sleep just as you lower her back into the crib. You walk over to the bathroom and knock on the door softly. You can hear Ona crying, it breaks your heart.

“Baby.”

“Please go away.”

“Don’t shut me out, my love.”

“I can’t do this.”

“There’s more to it than you’re telling me, angel. Let me in and let me help you, gorgeous.”

“Why do you love me?”

Her question takes you aback; you just had a wonderful day with family and a perfect date with the most perfect woman (in your humble opinion) and now that same woman is asking you why you love her.

“There are many reasons why I love you, darling. We’d be here for years if you wanted to hear all of them.”

“I’m not who I used to be.”

“I think you mean your body isn’t, my darling. You’re still the same beautiful, funny, gorgeous, smart, masterful fullback that I fell in love with. You’re still the girl who took me on a date that I wasn’t aware of, the girl who beamed for days when I asked you on a date two days later, the girl who gave me the most beautiful daughter in the world. But I also love the broken girl behind this door and I want to be the one to glue you back together darling. I want to find every crack and fix it.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I don’t deserve you, my sweet. You’re the best, I can only try to be the same for you.”

“It’s open.”

She almost whispers it and you rush in seeing her sitting in the middle. She begins to cry again when you stand there and look her. The tear stains and the wet t-shirt tell you she was really crying hard. You sigh softly and pick her up, carrying her back to bed. You undress her and put her into more appropriate clothes. She stands there and lets you, tears still running down her cheeks. You cup her face and wipe them away, kissing her nose softly.

“I love you. I’m sorry I don’t remind you enough every day. You are so beautiful, so kind, so loving. You’re such a wonderful mother to Eliana, she loves you very much babe.”

“I love you too. Thank you, it means a lot coming from you. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

You climb into bed with her, holding her close as the only sounds in the room lull you both to sleep; the fan runs softly as the A/C kicks on and off. She pulls herself onto you, face tucked into your neck.

Just as your eyes begin to close she says, “I’ve been having these annoying thoughts for a while. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. I was wrong, I should have told you. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“I’ll be all ears, cariño.”

//

The sun poured into the room like a flood. There was just a sliver in the curtains but it lit up the room. Ona was draped over you, your arm around her shoulder as she slept the whole night. Eliana woke up several times but Ona slept through the night. You didn’t mind, she deserved it after the weight on her shoulders was lifted.

“Hola, little one. How about we make Mama some breakfast in bed? She deserves a little more pampering before Mummy has to go to training today, what say you?”

Eliana just smiled, as you pulled her into a swaddle. She bounced happily as you cooked, making tortilla de patatas the best you could. You could cook very well but Ona was better at Spanish food than you were. Ona was already awake when you walked into the room with her plate and a cup of coffee, smiling softly when she saw you both.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning, mis chicas.”

“Here’s breakfast, I’ll bring my plate, give me two seconds.”

You walk back to the kitchen and bring your own plate back to bed. Ona sips on her coffee, sighing when it’s exactly how she liked it. You smile and sit back into bed, leaning against the headboard with Eliana still against your chest. She’s fallen back asleep, drooling all over your chest. You both eat in comfortable silence, sunny Barcelona shining throughout the room.

“This is good, you’ve become better at Spanish food.”

“High praise from the Queen! Means a lot babe, it just never comes out the way it does when you do it.”

“It’s delicious, I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She takes Eli off you, you bring the dishes to the kitchen and clean up quickly. When you walk back into the room, Ona’s feeding Eli and you snap a quick picture. It melts your heart, seeing both your girls having a good start to their day.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask her as you walk back towards them. She smiles sadly when you sit back in bed with her. She nods softly, eyes looking up at you with pain she knows only you can tell is there.

“I don’t know what happened. When we had Eli, I was so excited. We had been trying for so long, then we finally got pregnant, and then we had the complication and it’s just been so much. I thought it was just a phase, the doctors did talk about PPD but I didn’t think it would be this way.”

“Well, we know now. We can talk to the Barça doctors, they’ll know what we can do to help you. Help us.”

She simply nods, leaning in for a kiss. You oblige her, cupping her cheek softly and kissing her softly. She physically melts into your touch, smiling wide against your lips.

“How about we all go hang out at the pitch for the day? We don’t have a game till Sunday, I’m sure Jonatan won’t mind. The girls certainly won’t. We can talk to the team psychologists when I’m done.”

She nods, her signature wide smile plastered on her face.

“Now, how about we put the little one down for a nap and we take a nice hot shower together?”

//

“You’re going to get soap in my eyes, Y/N!”

“I won’t if you stood still, Pequeño.”

“Just because I’m 3 inches shorter does not give you license to make fun of me.”

You just kiss the side of her head and smile, going back to scrubbing her scalp. You step out of the shower 20 minutes later, both hair washed and bodies scrubbed clean. Once you’ve dressed and not forgotten your kit bag, the whole family drives over to the training center. You walk in with Eliana in your arms, Ona walking behind you with her carrier and diaper bag. You purposely didn’t tell the girls that the both of them were coming, wanting to surprise them with the special guest for the day.

“Nena!” Alexia exclaims when you both walk in, rushing over and taking her from your arms.

“Hello to you too, Ale. I’m doing well, thanks so much for asking.”

“Sí, whatever. How are you, mi vida? Tia Alexia has missed you so much, yes she has!” Alexia coos as the girls surround her. You and Ona can only smile and shake your heads, snapping a few photos to post later on.

“Alexia has become soft since we had Princesa.”

“Don’t make me force you to run laps, Y/N/N.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me. Your mummy thinks she’s funny doesn’t she, cariño?”

“Turning my own child against me Ale, that’s low, even for you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, I know I’m her favorite.”

//

Ingrid and Mapi walked in later on and had Eliana in their arms in an instant much to Alexia’s displeasure. Mapi was making silly faces with Ona and got Eliana giggling when Ingrid suddenly pulled herself away and walked over to where you were sitting and getting your boots on.

“How is she, elskling?”

“What?” you say, in the back of your head knowing that she isn’t talking about Eliana.

“How is Ona? Is she okay?”

You look at her like she’s got three heads. Ingrid is known to be the more observant one but you didn’t think she would be able to tell that Ona had a rough day. You certainly missed it.

“How did you know?”

“I had a feeling.”

“And yet I missed it.”

“Hey, it’s all part of life. You can’t get everything right.”

“She’s okay but we’re going to see the psych later.”

“That’s good. How about we have a little dinner tonight? I know Mapi would love to have kjære over.”

“I think that’s what she needs, Ingrid. She needs her family.”