ting1and2 · 7 hours ago
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Some rambling thoughts on the finale!
I actually liked most aspects of the finale but man, I really wish we got even just a tiny bit more backstory for Agatha and Río. Like, I desperately wanted to see more of their situationship from Agatha's perspective outside of this haunting reminder of the worst thing that ever happened to her that Río becomes, outside of this reminder of her own looming mortality that Río constantly is. Because, I mean, Río is clearly down bad, right? This millennia old entity who has probably seen the rise and fall of civilizations is whipped so bad for Agatha that she continously acts against her own interest in service of Agatha even when it clearly won't end well for her and I say this because...
She knows Agatha will hate her for taking her (*their*) son and still, she gives Agatha what so few get; she gives them time together and she takes Nicky gently, in the night, so Agatha does not suffer more than she has to. Even so, even after they become this painful, antagonist gaping wound because her love for Agatha was strong enough for her to try to prolong her suffering, even though Río loses what is most likely the only warmth she has felt for centuries (because who loves Death, right?), when Agatha pleads again, knowing how well that turned out the first time, Río still spares Teen. And it buys her a moment of tenderness, it buys her a moment of warmth in that almost kiss, but Río does not let that last because this fantasy that she sees Agatha falling into does not serve Agatha either. And man, okay, sure, Río doesn't know it at the time but, letting Teen die right then and there? Certainly would have saved her a whole lot of trouble that Billy is most definitely going to cause her in the future, but you know, Agatha said please... And Río clearly has a hard time saying no to that woman. Even in the end, she grants Agatha's last wish. Agatha does not want to see her in the end, she does not want to endeavor into the afterlife with Río... and so she doesn't have to. Río buries her beautifully and walks away. Certainly, Río, who hates ghosts, presumably because she has no dominion over them, knows exactly what becomes of these souls that do not pass over to the afterlife. Certainly, Río, who knows Agatha, who knows when Agatha is scared and when Agatha is sad, who knows when to push and when to back away; certainly Río knows more than anyone that an Agatha not contained by or not beholden to Death will be an absolute menace! She knows that even a powerless Agatha is never powerless for long. And the thing is, she spared Billy, AGAIN, knowing what he is; because while Billy isn't bad (not that Río cares about good or bad); he is "just like his mother" ... And Wanda, even pre-Wandavision!Wanda (I mean, she is the one who kickstarts Civil War and thus the Sokovia Accords) is just so powerful that she causes chaos without even meaning to. And the thing is, Agatha as his mentor? She's going to manipulate her way into getting something out of it. So, maybe he reanimates Tommy, which Río can presumably let go, since she spared him. But what happens if he bring Wanda back? And his robo-daddy? And what happens if Agatha defies death completely and is in fact reanimated as well? What happens then if Agatha, who has tentatively accepted that sometimes boys dies, decides well, actually fuck that, Río has had custody of their son for a few centuries so why not just waltz into the afterlife and pop her son into a brand new body because it's her turn now?
Which brings me way back to my original point of wanting to see more backstory between Río and Agatha because does Agatha love Death? And how does one love Death anyway? I mean, maybe Agatha does or at least did love Río, enough for her to sink into familiarity with her, enough for her to have these moments of vulnerability with her, but Río is DEATH and Death IS the natural order of all things and well, despite Río's assertion that Agatha does love her in that capacity; does she really though? Does Agatha love the natural order of things?
Defying them? Maybe. I mean, honestly, if Agatha had even half the power that Río possesses, then balance and order? Is Agatha prioritizing that over her own interest? Nahh. So, I think she genuinely can't see what Río has done for her and is only thinking about what Río wouldn't (presumably, not couldn't) do for her because, if Agatha does/did love Río then if roles were reversed, Agatha wouldn't hesitate and ultimately, I think that makes Ghost!Agatha with an assist from Billy truly formidable.
Like, I'm not sure Río even realises what she could be unleashing upon the world/herself.
And if she does, then I think Death might be a masochist.
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mayasaura · 6 months ago
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Imagine if Marcille ran away with the chimera in episode 17. She's just confused! Falin is still in there; she can fix her!
The fun part is, I don't think the Faligon would hurt her. None of the casualties in that fight were people Falin knew. She even went out of her way to scoop Kabru away from Laios before crushing him, instead of going for the kill where Laios would take collatoral damage. Falin is still in there.
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lowkeyremi · 9 months ago
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JJK MEN AS DADS
How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami
content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.
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Gojo Satoru
"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.
"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.
"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.
"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-
"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.
"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.
"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.
Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"
"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.
"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.
"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.
"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.
"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.
Geto Suguru
"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"
"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.
"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.
"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.
"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.
"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.
"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.
"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."
The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.
He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.
"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.
"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.
"Huh?" Kana asks.
"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.
"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.
Kamo Choso
Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.
"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.
He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.
"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.
What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.
"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.
"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."
"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.
"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.
Fushiguro Toji
"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.
"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.
"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.
He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.
You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.
"As I was saying-"
"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.
He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.
"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.
"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.
"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.
She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.
Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.
Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.
"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.
"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.
"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.
"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.
"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"
"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.
"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.
"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.
"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.
"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.
"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."
"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."
Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"
Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."
"Nami help!!!!"
In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"
"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"
"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.
"She is down. Upside down."
Nanami Kento
"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.
Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.
That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.
The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.
"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."
His eyes soften as do Kento's.
"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.
"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.
"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.
You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.
"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.
Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.
"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.
She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.
You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.
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starry-bi-sky · 2 months ago
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don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au
this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--
his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!
So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.
Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.
Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.
And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.
Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.
Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.
He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?
Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.
Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.
They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.
Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.
He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.
His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.
Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.
It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.
He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.
Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.
He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.
He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.
Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.
It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.
It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.
"I've become my grandfather."
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danyal al ghul au#dpxdc au#dp x dc au#dpxdc prompt#ive been playing cult of the lamb recently and you can tell#anyways i thought this was funny to think about. its specifically danyal al ghul bc that makes it even funnier#tfw you accidentally become a cult leader. rip to you danny you have a cult following#not at ALL an accurate depiction of a cult but i still think its funny. innaccurate cult depictions. ur in too deep to change it now danno#sam and tucker: hey dude... this is a cult | danny still learning how to People: what. no. these are all my friends and refugees.#his inner circle are all Insane about him they just show it in different ways. Sirius is as equally zealous as the rest they just don't#show it as much. which has mistakenly convinced danyal that they are the more logical one. no danny. they would kill for you#danny: i am being hospitable | sam: you created a cult | danny: i am being hosPITABLE#i dont like ghost king aus but i love danny being in positions of power it just has to feel earned. 'accidental kingdom acquisition' is my#favorite trope it just has to be done correctly. 🫵 build that bitch up with your bare hands and not realize until its too late you fool#'becoming a world power by accident and im in too deep to back out now'#danyal. a raised assassin (has no threshold for normal behavior): *sees utter devotion towards him* yeah this is fine and normal.#danyal: yk i dont see this ending horribly. *goes and collects more followers* yeah this is totally cool. welcome to the constellation#danyal: *saves a few people and houses them in his lair* (everyone liked that [to a worrying degree actually])#his inner circle: my moon! | danny: my stars :]#danny: ive become my grandfather. | danny: ... | danny: idk how to feel about that honestly.#those poor cultists that kidnapped antares were subjected to a 3hr tangent about 'the radiance of the Moon and his resplendent generosity'#before danyal found him and got him home. who were the cultists summoning? who knows! but they got Objectively the Worst out of the#constellation to summon by accident. actually they're all bad there's no picking who. they're all various amounts of Unhinged Danny just#Never Realizes It because he is also Unhinged and thinks some of this shit is normal.#like yeah thats totally normal behavior he has no questions whatsoever. this seems like Typical People Stuff.
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vanteguccir · 2 months ago
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── ୨୧ ! EMERGENCY CONTACT
spencer reid x reader
SUMMARY: Where Y/N is between life and death during a case, and the team needs to call her emergency contact, but she doesn't have one. Not until now.
WARNING: Use of gun, blood, getting shot, pain, usual CM violence (but not too violent).
REQUESTED?: No.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
   ༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
The evening was heavy with anticipation as Y/N and Morgan made their way through the dilapidated house. The floorboards creaked under their weight, and the air was thick with dust and tension. They moved cautiously, guns drawn, every sense on high alert.
The house, an old Victorian relic on the outskirts of town, was supposed to be abandoned, but they knew better. The unsub they were hunting had been using it as his hideout, his lair.
It was dark. Only the faint glow from a few broken windows offered any light. Shadows clung to the corners, making the already narrow hallways feel like tunnels into oblivion.
Morgan's eyes flicked over to Y/N as they moved silently down the hall. Her jaw was set in a hard line, her eyes scanning every inch of the space before them. They’d been partners long enough that he could read the tension in her posture, the way her fingers gripped her gun just a little tighter than usual. He gave her a slight nod, a silent assurance that they were in this together. Y/N returned the nod, her lips pressed into a thin line. They both knew what was at stake.
As they approached the doorway, leading to what looked like a kitchen, Morgan gestured for Y/N to take the lead, deciding to look into the hallway. She nodded and moved forward, peeking around the corner. Her heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Everything was eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that screamed trouble. She took a cautious step into the room, her gun leading the way, eyes darting to every possible hiding spot.
The silence was broken by the faintest creak behind her. Before she could react, a figure lunged from the shadows, catching her off guard. Y/N whipped around, finger already on the trigger. In her haste, she fired a shot into the darkness, the bullet embedding itself harmlessly into a corner.
The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space, and in that split second of chaos, the unsub took advantage. He moved like a snake, slithering out of the shadows, his hand shooting out to grab Y/N’s gun. His grip was iron-clad, and he twisted her arm, forcing her to drop her weapon.
"Y/N!" Morgan's voice came loudly from a closer room, the sound of his steps heavy and quick approached where the one from her gun came.
Y/N barely had time to register what was happening before she felt the cold, unforgiving metal of her own gun pressed against her temple. Her breath hitched, her heart racing as she looked into the eyes of the unsub. They were wild, manic, and pupils dilated with a dangerous mix of adrenaline and rage. His face was contorted into a sneer, lips pulled back to reveal yellowing teeth.
"Morgan!" Y/N called out, her voice steady but with a layer of fear and frustration. She knew he was right behind her, and sure enough, within seconds, Morgan burst into the room, his gun trained on the unsub. His dark eyes were fierce, anger simmering just beneath the surface as he took in the scene before him.
"Put the gun down and let her go. Now." Morgan commanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He took a step forward, his gun unwavering, trained directly on the unsub’s head.
The unsub’s grip on Y/N tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. He pressed the barrel of the gun harder against her temple, causing her to wince.
"Back off, or I’ll blow her brains out!" He screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. His eyes darted around the room, wild and erratic, as if searching for an escape. But there was none. He was cornered, and he knew it. "You petty agents have destroyed all my plans, and now one of you will have to pay for it."
Morgan’s heart pounded, his mind racing. He could see Y/N’s fear, her eyes wide, her breathing shallow. He needed to calm the unsub down to de-escalate the situation.
"Hey, hey." He said, his tone softening just a fraction, trying to project calm. "You don’t want to do this. Just let her go, and we can talk about this. We’ll figure it out. You don’t have to hurt anyone else."
The unsub laughed, a harsh, bitter sound.
"You think I’m stupid?" He spat, his voice dripping with venom. "I let her go, you’ll just shoot me! I’m not going to jail! I’m not going back there!" His hand trembled, and Y/N felt the gun shake against her temple, pressing her lips in a thin line.
Morgan clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking between the unsub and Y/N. He could see the terror in her eyes, the way she was trying to stay calm, to not make any sudden movements.
"Nobody has to go to jail." Morgan said, trying to keep his voice steady, soothing. "We can figure something out. Just let her go, okay? Let’s talk about this."
The unsub was breathing hard, his chest heaving. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something that he could do or use. Morgan could see the panic setting in, the way his grip on Y/N tightened. This was a man on the edge, teetering on the brink of madness.
"Don’t come any closer!" The unsub yelled, his voice cracking. "I swear to God, I’ll shoot her!" His hand twitched, his finger hovering over the trigger.
"Okay, okay." Morgan said quickly, taking a small step back, raising his hands slightly to show he wasn’t a threat. "I’m not moving. Just... take it easy, alright? We don’t want anyone to get hurt."
Y/N’s heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. She could feel the unsub’s breath on her neck, hot and fast. She knew she had to do something, anything, to distract him, to give Morgan a chance.
"You don’t have to do this." She said softly, trying to keep her voice calm. "Please. Just let me go. We can help you. Whatever it is, I can help."
The unsub’s eyes snapped to hers, his face twisting into a snarl.
"Shut up!" He screamed, his voice breaking. "Just shut up, you bitch!" His hand shook, and Y/N could feel the gun pressing harder against her skin, her eyes closing tightly with the feeling.
Morgan saw the movement, saw the unsub’s finger twitching on the trigger, and his heart lurched.
"Don’t!" He shouted, taking a step forward. "Don’t do it!"
The unsub’s eyes were wild, his grip on Y/N tightening as he shouted back.
"Stay back! I’ll do it! I’ll shoot her!"
It all happened so fast. One moment, they were yelling, voices overlapping in a desperate cacophony, and the next, there was a deafening bang. Y/N felt a searing pain in her right shoulder, too close to her neck, the force of the bullet knocking her off balance.
A scream tore from her throat as she crumpled to the ground, her vision blurring with tears. The pain was excruciating, a white-hot agony that radiated through her entire body.
She had forgotten how much a gunshot hurt.
In that split second, Morgan’s instincts kicked in. He raised his gun and fired three times. The bullets hit its marks, striking the unsub in the head. The force of the shot sent him reeling backward, his grip on the gun slackening. He hit the ground with a dull thud, blood pooling beneath his head, his eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling.
The unsub’s lower body fell against Y/N, pressing her more to the ground. She let out a choked sob, her hands clutching at her bleeding shoulder. Morgan was at her side in an instant, shoving the unsub’s body away and pressing his hands to her wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
"Y/N, stay with me." Morgan said, his voice shaking, his hands slick with her blood. “Come on, mama, stay with me. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you out of here." His heart was pounding, fear clawing at his chest as he looked down at her pale face, her eyes fluttering closed.
His hands were slick with Y/N's blood, his mind racing as he tried to maintain pressure on her wound. Her skin was pale, her breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching out in a nightmarish haze. He could feel her slipping away, and the thought clawed at his heart, sending a chill of dread through him. He needed help, and he needed it now.
He reached up with one hand, pressing the button on his earpiece, his voice urgent and strained.
"This is Agent Derek Morgan! We have an agent down! Y/N’s been shot, I repeat, Y/N’s been shot! I need paramedics at our location, now!" His voice cracked, the fear breaking through his usually calm, composed demeanor.
There was a crackle of static in his ear, then Hotch’s voice came through, sharp and controlled.
"Morgan, what’s her status?"
Morgan looked down at Y/N, her eyes fluttering as she fought to stay conscious.
"It’s bad, Hotch. She’s been shot in the shoulder, too close to her neck, and she’s losing a lot of blood. We need those paramedics." His voice broke on the last word, the helplessness clawing at him. "The unsub is dead..."
"Hold on, Morgan, they’re on their way." Hotch said, his voice a calming presence even over the comms. "Keep her conscious if you can."
Morgan nodded, even though Hotch couldn’t see him.
"You hear that, Y/N? You stay with me, okay? Don’t you close your eyes. Help is coming." He squeezed her hand, willing her to hold on.
Y/N’s eyes flickered open, pain clouding her vision.
"Morgan... it hurts... like a bitch." She whispered, her voice weak, barely more than a breath.
"I know, sweetheart, I know." Morgan said, his heart breaking at the pain in her voice. "Just hang on a little longer. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here." He kept his hands pressed against her wound, feeling the warmth of her blood seeping through his fingers, his own heart beating wildly in his chest.
Minutes stretched on like hours, but finally, the distant wail of sirens reached Morgan’s ears. He breathed a sigh of relief as the sound grew louder, closer.
The paramedics burst into the room before the cops - who ran directly to the unsub's dead body -, their faces a mix of professionalism and urgency. They moved quickly, efficiently, setting up a gurney and pushing Morgan aside to assess Y/N’s condition.
"She’s been shot in the shoulder." Morgan said, his voice tight with anxiety. "She’s lost a lot of blood."
One of the paramedics nodded, already working to stem the bleeding.
"We’ll take it from here, Agent. You did good."
Morgan stepped back, his hands stained red, watching as they worked. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumbeat of fear. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Hotch, his expression grim but steady.
"The rest of the team is on their way." Hotch said quietly. "You did everything you could, Morgan."
Morgan nodded, his throat tight. He wanted to believe Hotch, but the sight of Y/N lying on the floor, her life seeping out of her with every passing second, was almost too much to bear.
The sound of hurried footsteps filled the air as the rest of the team arrived. Emily, Rossi, and Reid rushed into the room, their faces masks of shock and concern. Reid’s eyes locked onto Y/N, and in an instant, his expression changed from one of worry to one of anger.
"What the hell happened?" Reid demanded, his voice a harsh, angry whisper. His eyes were blazing, fists clenched at his sides. He looked from Y/N to Morgan, fury and fear mingling in his gaze. "How could you let this happen?"
Morgan’s jaw tightened, guilt and frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"Reid, it was-"
"You were supposed to protect her!" Reid shouted, taking a step toward Morgan, his face a mask of barely contained rage. "How could you let her get hurt?"
Morgan’s eyes flashed with his own anger, his voice rising to meet Reid’s.
"You think I wanted this? You think I’m not tearing myself apart over what happened? I was right here, Reid! I did everything I could!"
"Enough!" Emily’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. She stepped between them, her eyes darting between Reid and Morgan. "This isn’t helping anyone. We need to focus on Y/N right now. Fighting like teenagers isn’t going to change what happened."
Reid’s chest heaved, his fists still clenched. He looked from Morgan to Y/N, his anger melting into something softer, more vulnerable. The pain in his eyes was palpable, his hands shaking as he fought to control his emotions.
"Hotch, we need to call her emergency contact. They need to know and be here for whatever they will have to do to keep her alive." Rossi's voice echoed for the first time, his eyes focused entirely on Y/N's form.
Hotch’s brows furrowed, a distant look crossing his face as he tried to recall the information. He shook his head slowly, his voice heavy.
"Y/N doesn’t have an emergency contact listed in her files."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Reid’s face fell, the anger replaced by a deep, aching sadness. He knew what it was like to not have an emergency contact, to not have anyone close enough that you could count on when, well, an emergency happens.
"No..." He whispered, almost to himself. "No, that can’t be..."
He looked at Y/N, her face pale and still, and something inside him snapped. Without thinking, he spoke again, his voice firm, resolute.
"I’ll be her emergency contact." He turned to Hotch, his eyes burning with determination. "Isn’t that possible? I can do that, right?"
Hotch hesitated, knowing the protocols, the paperwork, and the formalities that were required. But as he looked into Reid’s eyes, he knew there was no question. The team was family, and in moments like this, family came first. He nodded slowly, his voice quiet but firm.
"Yes, Reid. You can be her emergency contact. For now."
Relief washed over Reid, his shoulders sagging. He turned back to Y/N, moving to her side as the paramedics lifted her onto the gurney. He reached out, taking her hand, squeezing it gently.
"I’m right here, Y/N." He whispered, his voice trembling. "I’m not going anywhere."
The paramedics nodded to Reid, indicating he could ride with them. Reid climbed into the back of the ambulance, never letting go of Y/N’s hand, his heart breaking at the sight of her so fragile, so still. The ambulance doors closed, and within seconds, they were speeding toward the hospital, sirens blaring.
As the ambulance sped away, Morgan stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the disappearing vehicle, his hands still stained with Y/N’s blood. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Hotch, his expression somber.
"We’ll meet them at the hospital." Hotch said quietly. "She’s going to need all of us."
Morgan nodded, his heart heavy with guilt and fear.
"I should have made more." He said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Hotch squeezed his shoulder, a rare show of comfort.
"You did everything you could, Morgan. Now we have to hope she pulls through."
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that filled the room, a constant reminder that Y/N was alive, stable, and recovering. The sterile scent of the hospital lingered in the air, mingling with the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.
Spencer sat on the small couch beside Y/N’s bed, his lanky form folded into the uncomfortable seat, eyes fixed on her pale face. He hadn’t moved in hours, not since they’d brought her out of surgery and told him she would be okay.
His heart had been in his throat then, relief flooding his system, washing over him in waves so strong he’d almost collapsed. But now, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving him exhausted, drained, his mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, hadn’t even gotten up to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her side, not even for a second. His hands rested on his knees, fingers interlaced, his knuckles white with the tension he held.
He watched her, every shallow breath she took a lifeline for him. The rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelids; each small movement was a sign that she was still there, still fighting. He’d replayed the events of the day over and over in his mind, guilt gnawing at him for not being there, for not protecting her, even though he knew, logically, that there was nothing he could have done. But logic didn’t soothe the ache in his heart, the fear that had wrapped itself around his soul, squeezing tight.
A soft murmur broke through his thoughts, a faint sound that made his heart leap into his throat. His eyes snapped to Y/N’s face, and he saw her eyelids fluttering, her fingers twitching against the white sheets. He was on his feet in an instant, moving to her side, his hand reaching out to take hers gently.
"Y/N?" he whispered, his voice soft, trembling with the weight of his emotions. "Hey, can you hear me?"
Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the bright light of the hospital room making her squint. She blinked slowly, her vision blurry, disoriented, but as her eyes focused, they found Reid’s face, his wide puppy eyes filled with worry and relief. A small, tired smile tugged at her lips, her voice hoarse as she spoke.
"Spence..."
Relief washed over Reid, his chest aching with it. He squeezed her hand gently, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Yeah, I’m here." He said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"
Y/N swallowed, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the stitches in her shoulder.
"A little." She admitted, her voice weak but steady. "But it’s manageable. I’m okay, Spencer. I’m alive."
Spencer nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
"You scared me, Y/N." He said, his voice thick with emotion. "When I heard you’d been shot... I thought..." He trailed off, his throat closing up at the memory, the fear that had gripped him so tightly.
Y/N’s fingers tightened around his, her thumb brushing against his skin in a comforting gesture.
"I’m sorry." She whispered. "I didn’t mean to scare you. It just... happened so fast... The unsub, is he-"
Reid nodded, confirming her unfinished question - yes, he's dead -, his brow furrowing as he observed her, concern etching lines into his face.
"And mentally? How are you holding up?" He asked, his voice gentle, but with the unmistakable edge of a profiler. "I mean, after everything you went through today..."
Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes closing for a moment as she processed his question.
"I’m okay." She said slowly, her voice soft but firm. "It was terrifying, but... I'm alright."
"Are you sure?" He asked again, his eyes focused on hers, as if he was reading into her mind. "You know, it’s normal to experience symptoms of PTSD after a traumatic event like this." He continued after noticing how she hesitated to answer his question, his voice taking on that familiar tone of reciting facts. "Victims can often experience flashbacks, anxiety, depression... Did you know that the amygdala can become hyperactive, causing an exaggerated response to stressors? It’s important to talk about what happened to process it. Avoidance can actually worsen symptoms, so facing the trauma head-on is usually the best course of action..."
Y/N listened quietly, her eyes softening as she watched him talk. His words were a comfort, his knowledge a balm to her frayed nerves. She knew this side of Spencer, the need to rationalize, to explain, to wrap his mind around every detail until it made sense. It was one of the things she loved most about him. She didn’t interrupt - she never did -, letting him talk, his voice soothing her more than anything else could.
When he finally paused, taking a breath, she smiled at him, squeezing his hand.
"Spence..." She said softly, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. He blinked, focusing on her, his expression anxious. "I’m really okay. I promise that if I go through any of these things you listed, I will let you know. Okay?" She assured him, her smile warm despite the pain in her side. "Thank you for being here."
Reid’s eyes softened, his grip on her hand tightening slightly.
"I wouldn’t be anywhere else." He said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. He hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty before he continued. "I, um... I told Hotch I’d be your emergency contact." He said, his voice tentative, as if he was afraid of her reaction. "I know it’s not official. There’s paperwork and procedures, but... I just... I couldn’t let you be alone."
Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her brows drawing together as she looked at him.
"You... did that for me?" She asked, her voice soft, touched.
Reid nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly.
"I... I didn’t want you to be alone." He repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I care about you, Y/N. A lot. More than I probably should. And when I thought I might lose you today... I realized that I can’t... I can’t hide it anymore-"
Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening as she looked at him.
"Spencer..." She whispered, interrupting him, her voice filled with surprise.
Reid swallowed, his eyes dropping to their joined hands, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin.
"I’m in love with you, you know?" He said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I was too scared to tell you. But seeing you lying there, thinking I might never get the chance to say it... I had to tell you."
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling with emotion. She could see the fear in his eyes, the vulnerability, the raw honesty of his confession.
"And it's... it's totally okay if you don't feel the same, I would totally understand it-" He started rumbling desperately after a long minute of silence.
Without a word, she reached up with her hand from her unharmed arm, her fingers curling into the fabric of his dark tie. She tugged him down, her movements slow and careful, mindful of the pain in her other shoulder.
Spencer’s eyes widened, his breath hitching as he let himself lean down, shutting up instantly, his face inches from hers. Y/N’s lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes shining with life.
"I love you too, Spence." She whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.
Before he could respond, she pulled him closer, her lips pressing against his in a gentle, tender kiss. It was soft, hesitant, but filled with all the emotions they had kept hidden for so long. Spencer’s heart raced, his eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her back, his hand cupping her cheek, his thumb caressing her soft skin.
The kiss was everything he had ever dreamed of. Her lips were so soft and plump against his own, moving slowly in a perfect dance, her uncontrollable breathing hitting his face as a gentle and warm welcome.
As they pulled away, their foreheads resting together, Spencer’s heart felt lighter than it had in years. He had almost lost her, but now, as he looked into her eyes, he knew he would never let her go.
"I think you owe me a date now." Y/N whispered, a small smile stretching across her lips.
"Of... of course! As soon as we get out of here, I'll take you on as many dates as you want." Spencer nodded frantically, the tip of his nose hitting hers with his movements while his eyes traveled around her face, memorizing all the details he could finally see up close before lowering his head, meeting her lips with his own again.
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dollfacefantasy · 4 months ago
Text
(you drive me) crazy ♡
satoru gojo x fem!reader x suguru geto
you and satoru haven't been getting along lately, so suguru intervenes to give you the guiding hands you need to come together
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, daddy kink/ddlg, mlm
a/n: wrote this as a request for my sweet lovely bestie @nexysworld <3
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"'Toru quit it," you whine from the living room.
Suguru could hear the sounds of your protests coming from down the hall where you and Satoru were hanging out. He listens closer from his place in the bedroom for the other man's response, trying to discern if the conflict was playful or not. 
The past week or so, you two had been getting into it pretty often. They weren't serious disputes; usually just Satoru bossing you around or going too far with his jokes. He had power over you in your relationship dynamic, and that was how he played with it. Still, Suguru felt the need to intervene if his jabs got too rough for you. You were delicate while you were in a submissive mood. Feeling small meant you were too sensitive to handle teasing beyond what you knew was part of the game.
"Why would I quit when you're liking it so much?" Satoru taunts, "I can feel those pretty nipples getting hard, princess."
A series of whimpers drift down the hall to Suguru's ears. It was honestly hard for him to tell if the two of you were playing around or not. The little spats never stemmed from actual trouble between you three, but he wanted to make sure it stayed that way. He knew Satoru would figure it out with you soon enough, but for now, this dynamic was still new to him.
There's some more giggles and whines before you sharply yelp "Ow!"
Satoru laughs and then there's a little scuffle.
"You're such an asshole! Give it back!" you say.
Suguru sighs. It's as if he can already see Satoru's long arm stretched upwards, holding something out of reach. He gets up and heads toward the commotion.
"What? Are you too little to reach it?" Satoru mocks, "You weren't even paying attention anyways."
"That doesn't matter! I had it on cause I wanted it on," you say.
Suguru walks into the room and stands there momentarily, taking in the situation before him. His boyfriend was stretched back into the corner of the couch while his girlfriend was climbing all over him trying to reach the tv remote he dangled above them.
"Quit being a whiny brat," Satoru continues, giving your face a gentle shove with his other hand.
"Enough," Suguru interjects.
His voice is all it takes to snatch both of your attention. You turn around on top of Satoru while his head straightens up to look at the dark-haired man. You both know from the look on his face and the cadence of his voice that he's not in the mood for back talk.
At least you think you both know that. But Satoru decides to chance it anyway.
"Oh, she's fine. She was just being a big baby," he says with a roll of his eyes.
"From what I could hear, the both of you were being petulant brats," Suguru corrects.
It's almost as if you can see a gray cloud form over Satoru's head upon hearing that.
Suguru approaches the couch and sits at the end opposite the two of you. He grabs you by your hips and pulls you into his lap, leaning you against his chest and holding you close.
"Turn off the tv," he directs. 
Satoru actually obeys this time and clicks the power button before setting the remote on the table. His eyes return to the other man, both waiting to see his next move and wanting to be involved with whatever it is. He even scoots a little closer to ensure he won't be left out.
You're still glaring daggers at him, but the man holding you puts a quick end to it with a light tap to your nose.
"None of that," he chides, "I want the two of you to start getting along. There's no need for all the petty fighting."
"He's always being a dick-" you start before being promptly cut off.
"Watch your language," he tells you with a sharp look. "Good girls don't use words like that."
You tear your eyes away with a huff to spare yourself from seeing the smug quirk in Satoru's lip.
Suguru sighs and leans back into the cushions of the couch, keeping you close to him. Soothingly, he rubs the small of your back while shaking his head. His other hand stretches out to run through Satoru's white hair and massage his scalp.
"What am I going to do with the two of you? There's no reason for you to be bickering so much. You aren't in competition with one another," Suguru starts, speaking matter of factly.
He's relieved to receive no pushback on that point. Your eyes stay aimed up at him obediently while you relax in his lap, and Satoru's head melts against his hand as he rubs his head. His hand falls to the other man's jawline, sweeping down in and brushing his thumb over his plush lips.
"Come a little closer, pretty boy," he says. He knew the instant effect his voice uttering that pet name would have. He could all but see Satoru's pupils dilate.
Just as had been requested of him, the light-haired man inches closer so that his legs touch yours and Suguru's.
"The two of you are going to learn to behave together. I don't have the energy to put up with both of you acting so fussy all the time," he tells the both of you.
"But daddy-" you start to whine. You had to clear your name and make sure he knew that this was mostly Satoru's fault.
"Ah ah," he hushes you and leans in to quiet you with a brief kiss. Of course, Suguru knew a majority of the blame fell on the other man's shoulders. But he also knew that man in question, and he knew that he would never acquiesce if he felt defensive. "Show me you know how to act, sweet girl."
A grumble of frustration rumbles in your chest, but you simply lean into the kiss and move your lips with his. He's soft like always, smells so so good. Every breath you take lets him take over your senses. Every time, he was so easy to fall into. You swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, but as you're ready to go deeper, he pulls away.
"I think Satoru deserves a turn, baby," he chuckles lowly.
Your eyes glance over at your tormenter who'd been watching the whole time, analyzing every little movement between you and Suguru. You wanted to insist that no, actually, he did not deserve a turn. But that's something Satoru would do, and you're smarter than him so you control your pettiness for now.
Suguru brushes his thumb over your lip to wipe away some saliva before he turns his head and guides Satoru in for kisses similar to the ones he'd given you. The two men move their lips together with almost divine synchrony. Always the neediest of the group, Satoru moans quietly and scoots even closer to you and Suguru.
You watch them, and as you take in how they meld into one, you remember why the three of you do this. Because you can't stay mad when watching your lovers look so beautiful with one another. You can't hate Satoru when he looks so pretty with his skin tinged pink and his white lashes dusting his cheeks. You can't resent him when all you want is to make him feel the same way.
With Suguru, the rule always was once he had touched you, you were then allowed to touch him. So you lean in and nose at his neck, latching your lips onto his warm skin next. Being so close, you can hear the rhythm of his breathing stutter at the feeling. He stays focused on the one he's kissing until he catches sight of what you're doing and follows suit.
He occupies the other side of Suguru's throat and lavishes teasing kisses onto it. The man in the middle sighs and tilts his head back to give the both of you more room.
"There you go. Working together for daddy just like you're supposed to," he mutters.
Your hand slides onto Suguru's lap as Satoru's does the same. Fingertips brush against each other in the middle, a gentle reminder of why you loved Satoru too despite all the grief he caused you.
The touch pulls you together like magnets. Both of your lips glide over his throat to the center near his Adam's apple. You're both still focused on him, but then you aren't sure if Satoru's tongue flicks yours or if it's yours that brushes against his. Either way, your lips end up coming together and tangling the two of you in a series of kisses.
You lean away from Suguru's throat a bit. Satoru's hands cup your cheeks and keep you within his range. The man who had been the center of attention peers up and smirks at the two of you. He watches your tongues explore each other's mouths, watches as hands get grabby and breaths become bated. His hands stroke down the back of your heads like the delicate things he sees you as.
"Good babies," he coos, "It's more fun when you're playing nice."
But make no mistake, Suguru wasn't going to be left out of this little moment. He guides your chins upwards and presses his lips to the spot where yours meet. The intrusion is awkward for a split second, but it quickly becomes welcome. Satoru turns his head and engulfs the other man's lips in a kiss while wrapping his arm around your waist and keeping you close.
The three of your mouths move together. All sets of lips find a rhythm and always have their place in the mix. It's messier kissing with an extra person, but you like it that way. You like Satoru's breath chilling the skin coated in Suguru's spit. You like having his tongue in your mouth while your other lover nips at his bottom lip. You like feeling his slender fingers dig into your hip while Suguru's bulge swells beneath your ass. 
You squirm your hips, providing some friction to the growing erection, but his hands still your movements.
"Not yet, pretty girl," Suguru coos. He pulls back from the threeway kiss looking a little flush himself. His lips are puffed up like yours and Satoru. The main difference between him and the other man is that Satoru's eyes are completely clouded with lovesickness.
"I think Satoru owes you a little apology for teasing, hm?" he asks.
Thanks to his hazy state of mind, his reaction is a bit delayed, but once Satoru registers those words, he whines. 
"We made up. She doesn't want an apology," he says before looking at you, "Right?"
Your mind is a little fogged up from the heat of kisses. The desire for revenge had faded, but the memory of its intensity made you pause to consider siding against him.
Though before you can, Suguru swoops in.
"You did make up, but I want that to last this time. I don't want the two of you fighting again thirty minutes after I make the both of you cum," he chides, "I want you to remember that when our baby feels good, you feel good too."
You watch the resistance die in Satoru's eyes, suffocating under the mist of pure adoration he has for the man in front of him. Suguru strokes his jaw and returns the gaze, keeping him hanging on each word he says.
"Lay back for me, baby boy," he says gently.
Satoru obliges and leans back, spreading his long body across the couch. He tugs off his shirt and exposes the pale, muscular expanse of his chest to your eyes. Like always, he looked so pretty. He'd be gorgeous enough to make you jealous if you didn't love him so much yourself.
Suguru bounces you on his knee a few times to get your attention back on him. His hand rubs up and down your thigh soothingly as he leans in, speaking in the voice that lets you know his words are for you.
"Now Satoru's gonna make it up to you, sweetheart. After this, I want no more petty arguments, understand? I know he goes too far when he teases, but you need to try and work with me, ok?" he says, every word cooed at you like it'd be too difficult to understand otherwise.
"Ok daddy," you agree, your own voice softening as you're lulled into that soft, docile head space.
"Good girl," he praises as he pecks your temple, "I want you to go sit on Satoru's face. Think you can do that for daddy?"
You shoot a glance at Satoru whose eyes are on you and Suguru. The tent in his pants is on full display from this angle. It makes your mouth water, but you know better than to question daddy's plans.
"Mhm," you hum with a lazy nod.
"Perfect."
With that, Suguru boosts you to your feet. He helps pull your panties down and lets you hold his shoulder for balance while you step out of them. Then he takes your shirt off for you, kisses up your tummy and onto each breast.
"Alright, honey. Climb on," he says, giving you a pat on the ass and guiding you in Satoru's direction.
You crawl onto the other man's body, scooting up over his abdomen and pausing at his chest. You look down at his lust-blown eyes. The agreement had been made between you and Suguru, but it's Satoru's hands that pull you forward and get you hovering right above his face.
"No need to wait," Suguru directs from behind you.
That's all the man below you needs to hear before yanking you down and latching his mouth onto your cunt.
Your knees dig into the couch and you clutch the armrest in front of you for support. Being needy brought eagerness as well for Satoru. He loved receiving pleasure, but if giving it was how he could be the center of attention, he gave his all to that just the same. 
Suguru honors Satoru's dedication by tugging down his pants and letting his hard cock spring free. He boosts his hips to make it easier to get his clothes all the way off. His dick is leaky and flushed, resting against his pelvis, pulsing with the desire to be touched.
His lips engulf your pussy as he makes out with it, wanting every inch in his possession. His tongue laps over the length of it as if he's running out of time. He kisses your clit and laves at your entrance. The way he grips your thighs makes you feel as though you're being used as an instrument of suffocation
"Easy, Satoru," Suguru chuckles, stroking his smooth inner thigh.
He whines against your sex at the feather light touches, his hips buck involuntarily, so desperate for something to thrust into. The sound reverberates through you, sending a shudder up your spine.
"Daddy!" you whine for Suguru. Your arm sticks out behind you, flailing in a fruitless attempt to grab his hand.
He knows what you're doing as soon as he hears that whine. You always did this, always wanted Suguru to coddle you when things got the slightest bit intense.
"No no, baby," he tuts, "Daddy can't reach from here. Why don't you hold Satoru's hand instead?"
As soon as the words hit your ears, your pleasured mind decides that solution is good enough. Your fingers fly to your leg and pry Satoru's hand off so you can hold it. He doesn't complain at all, giving your palm a tight, reassuring squeeze.
Suguru watches, satisfied at the two of you getting along. He rewards Satoru's squeeze with one of his own, his fingers wrapping around his shaft. He gives it a few gentle pumps, relishing the guttural groans that come from between your thighs.
"Good boy," he coos, "You see what happens when you're nice to our girl? Daddy makes you feel good too."
You feel him nodding as he licks. His tongue never stops working on you. The warm wetness slides through your slick, swirls over your sensitive spots. You hold his hand like a lifeline. Your thighs tremble with the urge to clamp around his head.
"Daddy wants both his babies to feel good," Suguru continues from behind you while stroking Satoru's cock, "Is he doing a good job, baby girl?"
"Y-yeah," you choke out and look down at the mop of white hair exploding from the apex of your thighs. You can see those bright, blue eyes beaming up at you too. They're drooping with lust, dazed with the desire to please.
He moans while sucking on your clit. A ways down, Suguru spit down onto his hand as he fists Satoru's cock. The noises from his motions start to grow louder, his dick glistening with the mixture of saliva and precum spread over it.
"Keep going, Satoru. Make her cum, and daddy'll make you cum too," he coos.
His hand continues to jerk his cock with fluid motions. His thumb swipes over the dripping tip as Satoru's tongue prods your entrance. You grind your hips down into the blissful sensation. It starts with gentle rocking, but it's soon full-fledged humping.
"Oh, she likes that," he croons, "Look at you go, baby. You're gonna wear yourself out early riding his face so fast."
"Can't stop daddy," you mewl, "Feels too good."
You want to say more, but thoughts vanish from your brain faster than your hips are moving. You feel release blossoming in your belly. Your free hand laces itself between Satoru's locks to hold onto another part of him.
"Daddy, gonna cum," you whine.
"Alright, sweetheart. You can cum," he tells you before giving Satoru's dick a squeeze to indicate his words are now for him, "As soon as she's cum, you can cum too."
The words get Satoru working twice as fast. The tip of his tongue serpentines over your swollen bundle of nerves before suckling on it and flicking at the bud.
Your body goes taut, and it only takes a few more skilled touches to strike the right chord. Your back arches and the shriek you let out is high enough to break glass. You hold Satoru's hand so tight, it's possible you've shattered a couple bones.
Your hips swing back and forth with a mind of their own. Only one goal in mind, prolonging your high for as long as possible. Your eyes droop and gloss up, and everything starts feeling soft and warm.
Satoru can feel you swaying above him, but his hand splays across the small of your back to keep you up right. It stays there until you finish, and Suguru can guide you back into his lap. You watch him jerk off Satoru closer to the edge.
His fist twists languidly, stroking up and down in a perfect rhythm. You glance at Satoru's face. You watch him bite his lip as his features contort with ecstasy. He looks fucked out despite not having cum at all yet.
"Come on, sweet boy. Let me see it," Suguru coos, "You deserve this. You deserve your reward for making her feel so good."
The other man whines, but his hips start to jerk. You watch the first rope of cum spurt out onto his tummy. More follow and his legs squirm with the feeling of release.
"That's it. Cumming for your daddy just like a good boy should," Suguru says.
Once Satoru's ridden out his orgasm, you look up at Suguru for permission to love on him a bit more. He smiles at you, both for your intention and your inclination to ask for approval. Approval that he gives you, of course.
You crawl up the other man's side and snuggle in next to him, nuzzling his neck. He turns and presses some hazy kisses to your face. He doesn't want to get his hopes up too early, but Suguru is really starting to believe this one will be the time that lasts. He rises to his knees and haphazardly situates your legs into a more accessible position.
"You just stay right there, angel. Daddy's gonna fuck that pretty princess cunt, and Satoru can clean us up again if he wants," he says.
You turn your head to look up into the piercing set of blue eyes. From the glint they hold, you know he'll want to.
921 notes · View notes
cryptfile · 3 months ago
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⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon [ benedict bridgerton x wife!reader ]
summary — based on a request but went slightly off with it aka when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.
warnings — pure fluff, since the rumors of sophie being latina sparked, personally went crazy with the information so it’s implied that reader is latina also, mentions of sex (nothing explicit,,, implied as part of a establish relationship).
side notes — English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes i’m sorry in advance. this is for my latin girlies out here reading in tumblr, working extra hard to translate your works to bring new content to the page, tkm <3 reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated,,,as brittany broski once said: i'm a benedict bridgerton believer, i'm a benedict bridgerton ally.
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You really didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted Benedict’s marriage proposal.
Nobody told you that loving an artist is a tricky thing, cause while you’re always giving Ben’s new ideas, you hate him at the same time when he’s at the art studio until late, painting as if the absence of light it’s not enough to separate him from the canvas.
God, it just drives you crazy. He lacks of a schedule so he’s able to keep on painting till the rays of light start to appear again in the window he leaves opened all night long, and you’re afraid he’s going to catch a cold if he continues with his bad habits.
It suddenly hits him, that inspiration he ends up being the victim of, kissing you quickly as he escapes so fast you aren’t able to say anything when he disappears leaving you alone, you tolerate it at first, but the second? The third? He's just testing your patience at this point.
Your marriage has never been a troubled one, your husband does not make you mad most of the time and you enjoy being in love, those little things that made your heart skip a beat. You enjoy talking to him at night, spend your day in his art room as he encourages you to keep on writing that mystery book you're so into lately, bickering about how unfair life is for women your age — Hell, woman of all ages.
You love the sound of his laugh when he's careless about everything else, when he admits he doesn't want to go that night's party cause he just wants to stay home and fuck you senseless, his way of seeing art and explain it to you as something totally opposite as what you really think it is.
Thing is, you choose to marry Benedict Bridgerton cause you're indeed, head over heels with him. You've fall for the charming smile and sassy attitude that made you finally settle after years of being called a spinster. He finds the way to intrude the walls of the maze that was your heart and managed to plant a flag in the middle of it when you're confident enough to talk to him, let alone be seen in public after all the rumors you've heard that he was looking for a wife that season.
Even when you try to avoid him, he makes you fall in no time, following you around like a lost puppy, going to your house to spend time with your family, convincing everyone he's desperate to try the food your nana makes, cause you've talked about how good it taste all the time.
It's almost like he tricked you into make you love him, to have you between the brushes dipped in a funny smell water. He has you hooked by the first months and soon after? God, he has no education when he makes you love him, how he obliges you to stain yourself with all the things he was his daily life mixed with yours functioning so well.
It's a thorn nailed in the palm of your hand, those moments of privacy when the moon evolves you and your lover completely that are now being taken away. It's selfish, surely it's something childish so you don't want to say anything to your friends, or even Daphne Basset when she visits you to have an afternoon of tea free from her kids, asking you about how everything's going days before you came up with this great idea.
You can take the matter by your hands, that's why the next time Benedict's painting at midnight your mind works like a machine.
After all the time together you happen to know him more than you know yourself, the things he enjoys what he dislikes the most — So it's not very hard to plot against your husband.
Benedict doesn't seem to hear you when you silently glide through the half-open door, unaware as the light of the candle lights is not enough to illuminate the whole room, the fire he kept close to the canvas he was currently working on. He looks handsome all concentrated. His brows furrowed as he takes the pigments with his bare hands and mix them in his wood palette to get that exact color he was looking for. A shade of pink for a piece he hasn't shown you officially yet.
"What are you doing up so late?" you ask coyly when you are close to him, hearing how his breath hitched for a second before noticing it's you, your hands coming from behind just to intrude in his space close to the easel. He's taller than you, but it doesn't stop you from standing in your tiptoes, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck as you hugged him.
You cannot hide that you're tired. You lost the track of time when you got out of bed, so when you have your husband close and finally smell that nice and subtle aroma he carries with him, you relax in his back, the sound of his heartbeat loud against your ear.
"You scared me for a second," he says with a grin, muscles relaxing under your touch. "Didn't hear you coming in."
He has dry paint on his neck, so while you're cleaning his skin with one hand, he leans into you, back pressed against your chest seeking for your warmth, that contact he always seems to enjoy, your attention in all the ways he can get it.
“Bed’s cold without you” you say, fingers on his recently trimmed hair. "Done waiting for'you."
He has the nerve to laugh at your words, slowly at first, the sound of it making your skin shiver. He's going to defend his choices, you know it, and you hate how much you enjoy it, the way he always seems to find an excuse making you totally offended as you retort something equally ridiculous.
"Just thirty more minutes I promise," he says pressing a kiss in the palm of your hand he so gently grabs. "If you stay with me like this, can do the work in twenty."
"You can fool anyone else with that Ben, not buying it" to be honest, you're just trying to contradict everything he says, far from what you thought doing first when you plotted against him. "You said the same last week, amor. Not falling for any more lies."
"Not falling huh?" he asks, lowering the wood palette to look at you, his eyes meeting yours when you're so comfortable pressing your chin on his shoulder, looking at the painting he was doing — "You've learned the lesson then?"
"Twenty more minutes mean an hour in Benedict's language," he's the one that's now offended when his mouth opens in disbelief "Turns out I know my husband, and we both know that’s way more than twenty minutes.”
He loves it. It’s almost a secret, but he loves how you demand his company, the way you don’t fold against anything and you stand for what you believe. He loves how you claim to know him, your lavender smell filling every single space available in the room as he smiles happily in response. He was so unsure of marrying you at first, but now he doesn’t know what his life would look like without you in the picture.
“Ah, I’m guilty as charge” he says, his own hand going to his chest like it saddens him to hear you talk like that. “Thought you wanted me to paint more.”
You've been encouraging him to show his art to more people, a small gallery that displayed his talent, but that’s using your words for his advantage.
“You little bastard, that’s unfair coming from you.”
“Woah woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Kiss you even” you stick your tongue out, and he’s suddenly turning you around to place a kiss in your forehead, making you move in front of him instead — “You wouldn’t even imagine.”
Benedict’s a romantic. A poet at heart, so he doesn’t let any opportunity slip to show his affection, his infinite devotion to you. His heart flutters in his chest and suddenly he’s kissing you, staining your white nightgown with the fresh paint of his hands and not caring about it at the slightest. Kisses you like he missed you, like he didn’t see you the whole day when in reality you’ve spent all day in the same house, baking cookies cause you’ve suffered from a burst of love to the kitchen.
“You’re not convincing me” you say between kisses, hands pressing you closer to him. “I’m not leaving this room without you.”
He chuckles at your words — “Not even ten minutes?”
He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes you stare at him, wonder what you did to make him so interested in you, so attracted to the point he has to marry you.
"No Bridgerton. Ni diez minutos." To be honest, the accent just makes him go weak at the spot. It's pathetic, but he cannot help it, his brain melts at the sound of your voice, even if he doesn't understand much of what you're saying. "Let's go to bed."
You know it's a weapon, your lips are on his face, and he forgets about everything else: How he's supposed to continue on working when your lips are kissing every inch of his face? Seems like an impossible task now that his hands are on your waist and all he can notice are your pink lips, how you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes cause you're sleepy, an smile that eclipses the rest.
Benedict's no longer worried of his painting. Hell, he cannot seem to remember what shade of pink he was so invested in finding before, but he don't care at all when he's the one now leaning in, kissing you with fervent love as he traces the outline of your lips, almost asking for permission to invade you before deepening the contact, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair cause he simply cannot get enough from you.
"Take me to bed then, my beautiful wife."
He does not protest next. He loves every second of it, the slight force, your gentle touch when your guiding him through the cottage you two share in Wiltshire, the goosebumps in his own skin when you managed to get what you want.
You win. It's a war that Benedict never intended to win, a disaster he knew it would end up with the result of him leaving his work half done cause he cannot resist to the idea of being tangled with you in such an intimate way. He sleeps so well with you on his arms, burying his head on your hair as he relaxes beneath the sheets, the contact of your skin enough to make him have the best night sleep.
Can he resist it? He's neck deep. Talked about it with his brothers before, drinking too much as the words slurred together and he admits how you got him wrapped around your finger, so in love he would do anything to please you, let alone have your full attention — They surely made fun of him, but is it his fault? Being so in love with his wife?
"Can't say no to you," he says defeated "You know it."
In the privacy of the room you two share, you're washing his hands with a wet cloth, preventing him from getting the sheets dirty before pulling his linen shirt to the floor. It's so quickly, he don't seem to realize what you're doing until he's already in bed, covered with the thick duvet as he searches for you.
He realizes now he should have listened to you before, cause his back is surely happy now that he's able to rest, the weariness of being standing so many hours now falling over him as his eyes began to close by themselves.
"When are you going to stop working so late?" You ask, pressing your cheek against his chest as you hugged him, getting closer to him even when you stole more than half of the bed in the process. The second son of the Bridgerton family does not say anything about it, but instead, enjoys how needy you are of his touch, how you want him around.
"Inspiration always come late, angel" he tries to defend himself as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’s a curse.”
"Then i’m afraid i’ll have to drag you to bed every night," you protest. "Cause i'm not letting you stay all night in that studio, crazy man."
"Miss me too much in bed?"
"Hm, what if I do?"
"Cannot blame you," Benedict admits later, using the only traces of force he has left to caress your hair, fingertips against your scalp in a gentle massage. "I'm always missing you when you're not around."
Your heart skips a beat: How could you not be head over heels with this man? He always find the right words, what to say exactly.
Gently, your face come up to press a soft kiss against his lips, a quick one that’s not enough for Benedict when he makes you stay in the same position as he steals a much longer one.
Life is simple with him by your side, you know it cause you might as well be over the moon when you’re alone with Benedict Bridgerton.
Every. single. day.
my masterlist.
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kaiser1ns · 2 months ago
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#. FURIN HIGH SCHOOL LOVE CLUB
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featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. takiishi chika, umemiya hajime, endo yamato
fluff. little stories between you and the three scariest boys in their first years of high school.
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TAKIISHI CHIKA is a child of the flame, a raging and unquenchable fire, the little spark that came out after having fun in another fight with Umemiya Hajime, in which again the redhead was always the winner. Over and over again, Umemiya was bothering Takiishi to fight to show he could be the winner too, and right now when they walked out of Furin's graphite corridors he kept talking to him.
"If I win, you gotta join me." but the other boy did not hear his words, "And you will acknowledge my goals." He was already getting bored because it was always the same — he fights with Umemiya, wins, and goes home. This happened several times every day, and today he just wanted, as strange as it sounds, to spend his time with someone else without fighting. "Hey, hey Takiishi! Are you listening to me? The rooftop is fre–" the white-haired boy stopped walking when he saw some girl approaching, not towards him but towards Takiishi. 
She was very, very beautiful, with her smile being so warm and radiant, and her eyes seemed to shine not from sunlight, but from her soul. Then he looked at his opponent and how his pace towards her quickened slightly, he reached out and took the bag and threw it over his shoulder, and with the other hand he grabbed hers as they left the school grounds. Now it made a lot more sense why Umemiya was being ignored. It was you, the girl from the school close to theirs as he had listened to Endo talking about some girl Takiishi was hanging out with or dating, he wasn't quite sure about the information but could see it now. Well, it couldn't be helped, he will rest to have more power for the next challenge. 
"Let's put it off until tomorrow then!"
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UMEMIYA HAJIME is a wild child, he's always in trouble or is the reason causing it, but that doesn't stop him because he's having fun and testing how long he can take someone else's fists, while you can't take it all. He was grinning even though he was bruised all over, the dried-up blood barely coming off as you held the cotton to his face. "Umemiya, you seriously should stop bothering Takiishi... I can't be there for you every time after you two fight." 
You took a new piece of cotton and wet it with rubbing alcohol as you carefully cleaned the blood from his nose. It happened a little or in this case a lot every single day, you don't even study here to know that he will always seek trouble. "But he is so strong! You should have seen him too, the way he–" You quickly shut him up by shoving the cookie, that you originally both for yourself, into his mouth as he munched on it. His face was almost clean and you went to get some towels from your kitchen. "Wefe afe you foing?" he was talking with a full mouth but you understood what he was trying to say. 
And as soon as you came back to the bathroom you saw that he was only in his underwear. Your eyes widened, heat rising to your cheeks, you stopped moving and the towels fell to the ground. "Idiot, lock the door next time." you left the bathroom again, blushing furiously as you saw yours in the nearby mirror. First, he comes here unannounced, secondly, he eats from your snacks, and now he is half naked. Just who he thinks he is? Someone who can just go to you because he is hurt, someone who will hold your hand when walking you to school, or hug you tight when there are loud thunderstorms, or someone you have deeply fallen in love with. It didn't matter much because Umemiya Hajime is a wild child, and you liked every second of the wild nature.
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ENDO YAMATO is a strange child, but in a good way. Somehow he always knew what the two people he cared for needed, even without saying a word. And on the rare occasions when he wasn't following Takiishi he was with you. It's like he can read you, even when you haven’t seen him in days. Today was no different. You were standing at the school entrance, watching the rain pour down, realizing too late that you’d forgotten your umbrella. Just as you were about to wait and stay inside the building, he appeared with a cheeky grin, holding up an umbrella in front of you.
“Don’t want you turning into the Little Mermaid now~” Endo teased, the playfulness in his voice making you roll your eyes, but you smiled anyway. You linked arms with him, sharing the small umbrella as the two of you began walking toward your house. The rain beat down around you, but with him, it felt safe—warm even. His carefree attitude made everything seem lighter, even the heavy clouds above you.  When you finally reached home, you both quickly dried off and changed. You handed Endo a spare set of clothes, which he accepted with his usual smile. But just as you were about to relax, he began pulling chocolate bars out of his jacket's pockets—one after another, different kinds from your favorite brands.
“I know it’s that time of the month,” he said with a wink, leaving the chocolates on the table as he now stood next to you, the towel in his hand as he dried his hair. How did he always know exactly what you needed? You immediately wrapped your arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Endo just chuckled softly, pulling you a little closer. “I always got you.”
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taglist :: @maruflix @heartkaji @stunie @17020 @kiurona @meidiary @nyxypoo @kazuhaiku
©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work
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defnotsoju · 4 months ago
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HER FIRST TIME
ILLIT'S MINJU × Y/N ( M READER )
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Minju was one of those girls who always made you have mixed emotions about them. She was innocent, beautiful and very kind. Something that sometimes annoyed you about her, but at the same time sometimes made you happy.
In this situation, specifically, it annoyed you more. She was so sexy, lately her company had been making her wear too short skirts, which was pleasing to your eyes. You always had wet dreams with her for as long as you could remember, at least it happened to you often, even if not every time. You both went to the same high school, but after graduation you lost contact for a while. She began to pursue her dream of becoming an idol and now barely even communicates with her own parents, who by the way have always liked and shipped you both. A thought you actually liked.
Every night you went to bed thinking about her and even though you fucked other whores, you never stopped throbbing your cock while watching her first fancams of her debut song 'Magnetic' by ILLIT, which only fed your arouse and your desire to fulfill your dream of fucking her tight pussy. Oh yeah! You were sure she was tight just by the way the stripe on her pussy were clearly defined while wearing white safety shorts.
You heard from a mutual friend of both of you that she will be staying in Busan this week. This thought had excited you so much that you had spent the whole day trying to look good for your upcoming meeting, for which she doesn't even know about.
When you met, the situation didn't seem awkward. You talked about a lot of different things from the kind of school memories you two had. You talked about her idol career and that's actually how happy she is that her dream came true. Overall, hanging out with friends was nice because the old company was back together. Only now they had left you two alone outside, and you were thinking about so many things.
"I missed hanging out with you like this." She said causing you to raise your eyebrows and look at her in surprise. Did she miss you? Time with you? You looked at her confused. You wasn't actually confused, but you pretended not to understand. This made her pout.
"Say it again because I didn't hear you."
Minju folded her arms in front of her body as we walked towards her empty apartment in an affluent district of Busan.
"I told you I miss spending time with you. Are you happy now? Ya! Y/N! Why are you like that?"
You started laughing and she slapped you on the shoulder. You looked at her and instead of getting mad at her you slapped her as well, but on her butt, which made her put her hand on it and jump in surprise.
"I missed you too, Minju."
"Don't do it again! What if someone sees us and I'm in trouble? You'll live your life, but I'll have angry fans after me!"
When did this happen? Both of you were walking, and now you were in her bedroom home. The room was dark red in color, it had a very beautiful interior, and on both sides of the bedroom there were lamps whose light was warm.
You can't figure out when you sent her home and how it all happened, but you're so pleased you can't even complain. Her body lay under yours while you were on top of her. You looked with a confused look at her semi-naked body, whose curves were clearly defined. Minju had a really sexy body that you craved to fuck already. Her soft breasts bounced slightly when you entered her pussy with your erection. You watched her beautiful moaning face howling in pain but also pleasure for the reason that you had just taken her virginity. Damn it! Why was she so beautiful?
At one point she had quite started moaning loudly but also pushing you lightly with her hand which seemed to automatically make you press your pelvis against hers. This made her moan loudly and you covered her mouth with your hand.
"And you mean to tell me you haven't been fucked before? You're too hot Minju.. it's a shame your CEO hasn't fucked you or the guys in the company. Better that way. You're mine now."
Your movements were difficult because of how tight she was down there. This narrowness made you curse but in a raspy voice, and finally you leaned over her and kissed her soft lips. Her lips were so juicy and she was gagging herself in her own saliva because of the way she was constantly moaning and shaking under your body. She was so tiny. Her body was petite and when she is by your side she always boosts your man ego. Over time you roughed up your movements inside her, her warm walls hugs your cock that was throbbing inside her desperate to cum.
"Y..Y..Y/N..!! Don't stop fucking me. Damn it! I'll cum!"
"What if I don't let you?" You asked with a sly smile, stopping your movements for a moment. This startled her and she started moving her pelvis up and down on her own. She was exactly the needy slut you wanted to see. This was the light in which YOU wanted to see Minju. How she desperately rubs into you to cum and begs you, followed by a whimpering.
"Then stop moaning so loudly and be a good girl to me. Open your mouth" You ordered her, and she obeyed you. You spat in her mouth and slapped one of her medium sized tits which made her purse her lips. You didn't like this action of hers, so you allowed yourself to slap her again, but this time on her pussy. This caused Minju to arch her neck back and begin writhing her body on the soft thousand dollar mattress. You noticed that there was blood on your hand. It was her virgin blood. The sheets were in blood, her thighs, you were in her blood yourself, but that motivated you enough to keep going until you felt yourself starting to cum inside her. You filled her tight hole with your cum, but that orgasm didn't even stop you because your goal was for her to cum too.
You gripped one of her legs below the knee and spread the other wide, using your fingers on her clit, which you rubbed hard and fast as your pelvis crashed against hers. Your balls started hitting her small but shapely ass as you watched her boobs bounce with your predatory eyes.
The moment she came you stayed deep inside her, causing her to shake her body intensely, especially her legs and moan even louder, finally pulling away from her. You began slapping your cock against her reddened pussy, finally beginning to rub it between her pussy lips.
You watched with interest as your white liquid flowed from her hole, unable to hold back and lick her pussy. This made her cover her lips with her hand, but you pushed her hand away and continued to lick her greedily.
"Did you think that was the end?"
AO3 VERSION HERE
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kissedloveletters · 4 months ago
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𓋜 ⠀𓏲࣪ .⠀hand holding - head canons⠀..⠀ ;⠀kny
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shinobu has incredibly soft and smooth hands with no visible scarring.
her palms are slender and her fingers thin, making her hands smaller than average. When she places them on your cheeks, you feel their coolness.
her nails appear neat and tidy, although some little cuts appears after a mission sometimes.
whenever she cleans her nails, she offers to do yours and compliments your fingers. she also gently glides her fingers over any scars or cuts.
shinobu’s grip is comfortable and loose, providing a secure hold without causing discomfort or slippage.
holding hands with her is comfortable, she doesn’t mind any teasing from tengen or others and stares if you both hold hands in public.
if you compliment her hands she’ll show you a genuine smile with a blush.
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iguro’s hands are rough with some scars, especially on his fingers. his hands are slightly larger than average and feel cool to the touch.
his nails are decently maintained, possibly by you, but his cuticles could use some attention.
iguro haves trouble with his grip when holding hands. he is unsure of how to do it correctly, going from holding too loosely to holding so tightly that it feels like something might be broken (although he doesn't appreciate any jokes about that). It's definitely a learning experience for both of you.
It's extremely rare for iguro to hold hands in public, only doing so when necessary. Instead, he usually grabs your wrist. though, in private, despite being flustered, he'll make an excuse to hold your hand. holding your hand extra tight in crowded places so you won't get seperated.
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giyu and obanai have similar hands, but giyu’s fingers are more rough.
his hands are over the average in size with slender fingers. they run warm, making them perfect to hold in the cold.
his nails are well-maintained, but occasionally cuts and scars from fighting and training.
giyu has a gentle grip but can firm up when needed. he looks like he wants to apologizes if he thinks he's holding too tightly but doesn’t utter a word, sometimes asks, also doesn’t realize if he is holding too tight sometimes.
It's not uncommon to hold hands with giyu, he doesn’t care what others say. but, he's always willing to hold your hand. he craves physical touch, so if your hands are occupied, he may hold onto other parts of you instead.
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rengoku’s hands are a bit rougher than tomiokas, but still gentle nonetheless.
his hands are large and fingers long. his hands tend to run warm.
nails appear to be well-maintained, including his cuticles, by you.
as a demon slayer, he often gets cuts and scars, and it seems like he does it on purpose. he'll ask you to tend to them with a smile, even though it doesn't really hurt. It's like he uses it as an excuse to get your hands on him.
his grip is gentle and sweet, but he apologizes if it ever becomes too tight. sometimes he doesn't even realize it.
holding hands with rengoku is similar to giyu, he pays no mind to their teasing when you two get caught. plays with your fingers or kisses them.
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sanemi’s hands are rough from training and combat, fresh cuts pop up often after missions, littering his fingers.
his fingers are thick with a above-average size palms. they feel fairly cool, perfect for a warm day. a bit veiny.
he regularly trims his nails, but his cuticles are not in the best condition.. nothing super crazy though.
when it comes to taking care of his hands, he doesn’t care for it as much as he should. he finds it endearing when you take the time to massage or rub his hands, showing that you care about his well-being. If you compliment his rough hands, acknowledging his hard work, he'll feel touched. comparing hand sizes can also be a fun way to connect with him and show that you appreciate his unique qualities, big or small.
he holds your hand firmly, yet gently, conveying both strength and care.
holding hands with sanemi is a common occurrence. like rengoku, he doesn't pay much attention to peoples teasing (if they even dared to do that).
663 notes · View notes
Note
AITA for coming to dinner with my ex and his new GF uninvited?
This situation is long and messy, so I'll try to include the relevant info only. I (F32) broke up with my long time partner (M33) right before COVID hit. We stayed in the same house during lockdown and continued to live together after lockdown was lifted, because we generally get along and we had a child (F11) to raise together. Over the last 3 years we've been roommates and co-parents and that's it.
One day he was supposed to take our daughter to buy new school clothes, and she came back 10 minutes later in tears. She said they were on their way to the store when his new GF called, and he drove her back home and dropped her off so he could go spend time with her. He even asked our daughter to lie to me for him, but she was tired of covering for him (implying she'd been lying for him for a while now).
When he got home we had a massive argument. I didn't care if he dated other girls, I cared that for some reason he thought he had to sneak around, and it made him act like a jerk to me and our daughter. I told him if he had been a man about this new girl and just introduced me to her then maybe we could have all been friends, but instead he had to act like a horny teenager. It ended with him moving out to live with his parents.
A couple days later he called and apologized. He said he hoped it wasn't too late for him to do things right, and he hopes we can all be friends. I was hopeful that we could finally co-parent in peace for the sake of our child.
This is where I may be TA: I have always been close with my ex's parents, to the point where even after we broke up I would be invited over regularly for dinner. They said even if I wasn't their son's partner I'm still their grandchild's mother, and that makes me family.
So one day when my daughter texts me while at my ex's parent's house and invites me to dinner because they're having my favorite meal, I don't think twice about coming over even though my ex and his GF I've never met now live there. I figured everyone had to be okay with it, since my daughter was inviting me.
I end up having dinner with my ex's parents and daughter, but my ex only comes upstairs to grab two plates of food and goes back downstairs. I ask my ex's mom why and she says his GF doesn't feel well today. Whatever, I think. She's just sick and I'll meet her another day. I have a perfectly pleasant dinner with my ex in-laws, help clean up, and make a promise to bring them a coconut cake (ex father-in-law's favorite) and take my daughter home.
Later my ex blows up my phone with texts and calls, saying it was so weird and rude that I came over for dinner uninvited. That I made his new GF uncomfortable, and like she wasn't welcome there. And that I caused trouble in their relationship because she assumes we must still be in love for me to come over and see his parents out of the blue like that, because "exes don't do that. it's creepy."
I had a talk with my daughter and asked her calmly if she had asked everyone else if it was ok if I come over before she texted me, and she sheepishly said she didn't know she had to ask since it had never been a problem before. (I didn't tell her about her dad's meltdown at me, or tell her dad that she's the one who invited me. She's a child and shouldn't be involved)
Instead I just told him I'm sorry me dropping by made things awkward, but I thought he wanted us all to be friends from now on and I figured this was a good place to start being friends. He said there was no way she'd want to be my friend now that I made her feel uncomfortable in her own home.
It wasn't my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, but I admit I'd be perturbed if he brought this woman into MY home and I had not even been warned first. So AITA?
What are these acronyms?
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bitter-me · 5 months ago
Note
Platonic Boothill with a male reader who is like Arlecchino from genshin impact
Male reader is Boothill's long lost brother
The Water is Fine
Boothill | M. Reader as Arlecchino [Genshin Impact] (Platonic)
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"Blood runs thicker than water.."
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The children gather in one room as they hear their mother's story. They all look at her in awe, she had told them the story multiple times, but it never gets old. Their mother's story was always wonderful. Once she finished her gaze scanned the children before furrowing her eyebrows. "Where's [Name]? Didn't he want to hear the story?"
"'Scuse me, mother! He's doing a funeral for his spider!" One of the children raised her hand, answering her question. She lets out a sigh at the child's words, her expression showing her concerns. "That child... maybe his curse is flaring up again."
Meanwhile, [Name] crouch down in front of the makeshift grave he had for his beloved spider. How sad.. he looks at it with a blank expression until suddenly someone put a hand around his shoulders. "Hey, [Name]! I bought us cake!!" The other claimed, grinning from ear to ear. In his hand was a box filled with two slices of cake. It looks delicious. "You must know spiders don't eat cake.." "Of course I know that!"
The days spend in the orphanage were always nice, peaceful, quiet. One of the siblings favorite activities were playing tag in the garden. The trees makes great terrain for free running and parkour. Always trying to one up the other. The younger was always full of energy, seemingly excited to explore the world, while the elder was reserved, cold, maybe even cruel but he will have a soft spot for the younger.
Stealing cake from the kitchen, picking fruits straight from the tree, playing tag. Life is.. simple.. fun. The world felt so big..
"Look!" He pointed at the shooting star from their window. His eyes seems to sparkle with joy, his gaze never leaving the starry skies. "One day, we're gonna explore the universe! Travel through the stars! Just you and me!" He says happily, hugging his older brother's arm, the two gaze upon the stars with hopes and dreams. What a beautiful sight.. the sky looks so mesmerizing. The world felt so vast and filled with the unknown. "The two of us could be like Rangers through the vast space! Exploring the universe and upholding justice!"
The elder can't help but smile at the other's words. It's sweet. The though is certainly wonderful. To explore the stars with his younger brother. That truly sounded like a dream. "Yeah, we could do that." "And we could find something for your curse too! Oh just imagine what we could find!"
A child's dream..
..is always so sweet..
So... sickly... sweet..
----------
"Run! And don't you dare look back!"
"But--!"
"GO!"
He ran.. he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
He run and run.
Like the gingerbread man...
Why...
Why are they fighting..? And for what..? For the title "King"? What is that for? It's just a title. But it seems it means more than that... with his older brother's words. He run.. run as fast as he could. He's fighting isn't he? He's fighting the others isn't he? Why.. why must this be their reality..
He doesn't know what to do.. he wanted to stay with him. But he can't.. his brother told him to run and to never look back.. it's like a game of tag isn't it? Run as fast as you can.. and try not to get caught.. it's just a game.. a simple game... and yet.. and yet...
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"The Knave.. may I know why you're at Penacony?"
"I heard Aventurine had caused quite the trouble.. so I'm here to make this up with the Family. Though it could officially be considered a diplomatic conference, I prefer to see our meeting today as an ordinary tea party. I assume you see it the same way, Mister Sunday?"
"Right, of course. It is an honor to have you here.. Mister Knave.."
"Please.. call me, Arlecchino."
.
.
.
.
.
"What in the cosmos are these kids doing here?" The question come out as harsh, his accents sounded thick as he dodge an attack from one of them. Those three children.. fighting for what? Father was it..? That's who they're fighting for? What a load of Wubbabbo.
"Careful now.. you can't reason with an outlaw.."
"..Father..?"
A man steps out of the room, his gaze is cold, carrying himself in an elegant way that just screams absolute authority. Their gaze locked on each other for what felt like an eternity, a sense of recognition wash over them, until finally..
"You.. why are you with them?"
"Why? I thought you already know.. leave Penacony. The dreamscape is not meant for outlaws like you.."
Gritting his teeth, the other look at the man with betrayal in his eyes. How could he.. how could he side with the enemy? After what they've done... how could he just.. he could shoot him.. he could shoot him now.. he could kill him now.. and yet.. he can't... he can't just..
Even if he sided with the enemy.. he's still.. they're still..
"Come you three, our work is finish."
'Yes, Father."
The days spend in the orphanage were always nice, peaceful, quiet. Stealing cake from the kitchen, picking fruits straight from the tree, playing tag. Life is.. simple.. fun. The world felt so big..
The House of the Hearth...
.....that was their home...
..until it wasn't...
...it all happened at the same day...
where his older brother...
.....was crowned as "King."
...
Blood runs thicker than water...
..is that why it felt heavy when he saw his older brother walk away with three children by his side? One he had turned into soldiers for the House of the Hearth? For the IPC? Because ultimately....
They too once stand in those three children's positions.. soldiers.. unknowingly, that is..
And now... the "King" is continuing the cycle..
His own flesh and blood that he had looked up to.
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sceletaflores · 4 months ago
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Advantage, Duncan.
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pairing: stanford!tashi duncan x fem!reader
summary: tashi duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. after that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.
—or: tashi needs you to understand that she doesn't give a fuck about patrick.
word count: 2.7k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (only barely but fem!receiving), somewhat public sex (in a locker room lmao), cheating but not really, love confessions kind of, lowkey manipulative!tashi but barely, patrick getting shit on like always, porn with a dash of plot, no use of y/n.
author’s note: back on my wlw cheater bullshit! so glad to be here! i centered this whole fic around a locker room sex scene. it just sort of spiraled into this cause you know i love being messy. once again no one requested this i'm being selfish lmao but i need more tashi fics on my masterlist! hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.
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Tashi’s sneakers squeak quietly as she makes her way back to the locker room. Sweat drying on her brow and adrenaline still buzzing in her veins despite the match being over. It was an easy win, Northridge had been slipping down the ranks the longer the season went on and the girl had a shit backhand.
The first thing Tashi did after shaking hands and posing for pictures was text you. She left the locker room door cracked open for you. The thought of you sitting there alone waiting patiently for her behind that door made her almost giddy enough to skip the rest of the way down the hall.
This was something like a tradition for you guys now, meeting in the locker room after her matches. Something that started a little after the two of you met a couple months ago. It was the last tournament she had before the fall semester started. The court was owned by some snobby Northern California country club that your dad happened to be president of. He stuck you in the ball crew for the summer so he could watch you keep you busy and make sure you stayed out of trouble, joke's on him. 
You were the first thing she noticed the second she stepped on the court, but how could she not? You in your cute flowy linen shorts and matching white top. A light blue visor strapped to your head. Tashi immediately got why guys have that primal, desperate urge to impress pretty girls they just met. She showed off more in that match than she had in a long time, running the girl on the other end of the court ragged.
Tashi wanted you to notice her, to see how dominating she was, to be impressed by her. Every time she hit a perfect shot, her eyes would dart to you, checking if you were watching, and you were. 
You were practically gawking at her, eyes all wide and admiring as your head snapped back and forth with every smack of the ball. 
It was perfect, you were gravitating towards her more with every new set exactly like she wanted you to. By the time she won you were watching her with stars in your eyes, gaze trailing after her every move like you were a sunflower and she was the sun. And even though lots of people have looked at her that way, you were the only one she looked back at. It made Tashi’s skin buzz with something she’d never felt outside of tennis. 
She was swept away for pictures and press before she could talk to you, but there was a party later that night thrown in honor of the players at the club's banquet hall. Tashi was standing at the bar when you slid up next to her, introducing yourself with adoration swirling in your eyes and a shy smile on your glossy lips. Tashi let herself smile right back as she shook your hand for a little longer than normal.
Two hours later and she had you in one of the hall’s many bathrooms with your Dior dress hiked up around your hips and her tongue on your pussy. She can still remember every detail of that moment. The fruity notes of your perfume, the way you tasted, how sweetly you moaned her name with your voice so breathy and desperate.
Tashi Duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. After that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.
Now, as she pushed open the locker room door and saw you sitting on the long bench in the center of the room, just like always, she felt a surge of possessiveness and longing. The sight of you waiting for her, so patient and devoted, made something dangerously close to love burn hot in her chest.
“Took you long enough,” you tease, standing up to greet her. You’re wearing one of her shirts, DUNCANATOR stretched across your chest in blocky red letters.
She dropped her bag at her feet, quickly crossing the room until she was close enough to pull you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. She was still sweaty but you didn’t care, arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.
“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little too intense, her grip a little too tight. 
You laugh, your hands giving her shoulders a tiny squeeze. “It’s only been like an hour, Tash.” 
An hour felt like a whole year to her at this point. Tashi hated being away from you, hated not knowing what you were doing, who you were with, what you were thinking. She wanted to be the center of your world, just like you were so quickly becoming the center of hers. Steadily elbowing tennis inch by inch just to try and make enough room in her heart for something else. 
Tashi pulled away from you, taking a second to scan her eyes over your face. You were so beautiful, so perfect and sweet for her. She raised her hand to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping across the skin of your cheekbone a few times. You were flushed from sitting out in the sun, skin warm and soft to the touch.
She leans in without thinking, pressing her lips against yours. You taste like coconut lip balm and Pepsi. Tashi’s hand tightens its hold on your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. She felt you sigh contently against her lips, lazily kissing back as easy as anything. Tashi felt like if she focused hard enough, that she could feel your heartbeat pounding where your chest met hers.
She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, her hands making their way down to the small of your back to slip her fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. Your lips parted the slightest bit before you were pulling away with a small whine, pushing off her shoulders to create distance between the two of you. Tashi let her hands fall from your body as you take a small step backwards, immediately missing the warmth you took with you.
She was confused by the sudden shift in your mood until she saw the look on your face. The absolute picture of guilt, your brows furrowed enough to make a tiny crease in the middle of your forehead with your lip drawn between your teeth. Your eyes are droopy and sad as you wearily gaze at her from a few feet away. Tashi suppresses the overwhelming urge to sigh, brow raised as she stares back at you, waiting.
“I…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself slowly. “I actually needed to talk to you, Tashi.”
‘Here we go.’ She thinks dryly, internally rolling her eyes. She can already tell she’s going to have to talk you down, again. She really should have expected this, you bringing up Patrick, you’ve done it enough times to be a trend. It’s been so long since the last time you said anything she was hoping you finally dropped it, apparently not.
Tashi doesn’t respond right away, just tilting her head slightly as she watches you. You shuffle uncomfortably in place, your eyes looking anywhere but her. She can see you take a steadying breath, trying to hype yourself up before you speak again.
“This is wrong,” Your voice is unconvincing, meek and soft. Tashi would laugh if she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong. It’s not fair to poor Patrick.”
It’s almost funny, how genuine you're being, how bad you truly feel for Patrick.
Poor, poor Patrick. Yeah fucking right. 
‘Poor Patrick’ is on tour right now probably sticking his dick in anyone that’ll let him. He’s nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment when you and Tashi went a few weeks without talking. She was hurt and vulnerable, two things she’s not used to feeling. She needed to feel in control of something again to stop her from going crazy, Patrick was easy enough.
When the two of you started talking again, she shut that shit down immediately. She was reminded of what a monumental waste of time Patrick is and pushed him to the furthest, most unimportant corner of her brain. She didn’t need him anymore, not when she had you again.
Tashi finally lets out a small sigh, more out of impatience than exasperation. She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "You really think he cares?" Her voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "Patrick doesn't need your pity. He's fine. He always is."
Your eyes widen at her words, the guilt on your face deepening. "But—"
“No.” Tashi cuts you off sharply, jaw set stubbornly. “Listen to me, Patrick is nothing. He’s just dick. He’ll never be more than just dick.” She takes another step towards you, closing the gap you made. “He doesn’t care about us, about this.” She motions between the two of you, her voice raising slightly as she speaks.
You swallow hard, arms tightening around yourself defensively as you stare at her with watery eyes. 
Tashi's whole demeanor softens, the anger draining from her body at the hurt look on your face. She would never speak to you like that, it’s just Patrick that really pisses her off. He’s not even here and he’s still managing to fuck with her. She steps even closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at her. 
Your name falls from her lips, warm and wrapped in velvet, her thumb traces along your bottom lip slowly. "We have something real," she whispers fiercely, grip tightening on your chin just a fraction. "Something he could never understand. Don't let him ruin that. Don't let him ruin us."
You nod slowly, eyes big and shiny with unshed tears. It’s not good enough, Tashi can tell that you’re still apprehensive. You’re still worried, still guilty even with her reassurance. She can’t have that. If she doesn’t get you to drop this, you’ll let it consume you enough to try something stupid, like leaving her. Tashi refuses to let that even be an option.
If she can’t convince you with words, she can convince you through her actions. 
Tashi needs to drive home the point that sparing Patrick’s feelings isn’t something you need to be worried about, clearly tough love isn’t going to work on you. If she has to get on her knees to help make you understand, then she will.
She leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches slightly, held for only a second before you finally relax. Not completely, just enough for her to feel it. She keeps going, dragging kisses from your cheek up to your ear.
“Patrick is nothing compared to you.” she whispers directly into your ear, dropping your chin to start sliding her hand slowly down your front. “You’re so much better than him,” her hand stops at the hem of your shorts, tugging the button open with one sharp yank. You gasp sharply, hand flying up to grip her bicep tightly. Your eyes flick to the door, open and unlocked, but you’re not pushing her away, not trying to stop her. 
Tashi leans down, trailing kissing across the soft skin of your throat. “You’re everything.” She slips her hand into your shorts and down the front of your soft panties, her fingertips barely graze the slick skin of your pussy before you’re moaning.
“Fuck.” your hand squeezes her arm tighter, nails digging little crescent moons into her skin as she slides her index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. 
You’re so wet, completely drenching her hand in seconds. She teases you, barely pushing her finger past your tight hole as she licks a dirty stripe up the center of your throat. You whine, a desperate, too loud noise that bounces off the walls. Slowly, she breaches your entrance, sinking her finger up to the knuckle in the tight warmth of your pussy.
She watches you, takes in the needy look on your pretty face. So worked up for a single finger, so desperate for it that your hips cant down to get her deeper inside you. The wet squelch of her finger thrusting in and out of you sounds even dirtier, amplified by the room's echo. 
“You’re so beautiful.” Her tone is soft but final, like she’s stating a fact. She stares at you as she fucks her finger faster in and out of your fluttering pussy, gaze intense and unwavering. You stare back like a deer in headlights, silent except for the sharp pants falling from your slick, parted lips. That’s okay, you don’t need to do any of the talking anyway.
Tashi nips at the sensitive skin of your collarbone once before she’s dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. Her greedy hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down your legs roughly, your lilac panties quickly follow. You gasp sharply, the cool air of the room hitting your bare pussy. “Tash-” 
Tashi cuts you off, leaning forward to slip your clit between her lips. You throw your head back, your loud moan echoing through the room. She swirls her tongue over the sensitive skin of your clit, exactly how you like it. You’re already so worked up, she knows this won’t take long.
Her mouth works you over expertly, licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your dripping pussy. She teases the tip of her tongue along your clenching hole, so desperate to be filled by the strap sitting in a old box on the highest shelf of her closet. Her thighs clench at the thought, you bouncing on her dick, wrecked and spent on the sheets of her bed. She pushes the idea to the back of her mind, you always have later for that. Right now, she’s focused on making you come on her tongue. 
Tashi can tell you’re getting close. Your breathing changes, gets heavier, even more little moans and whines falling from your lips each time her nose presses against your clit just right. Your fingers slide into her hair as you start to roll your hips, chasing her mouth. 
“God, Tashi–!” Your thighs shake on either side of her head, hands twisting her hair in your grip roughly. “Shit, yes–fuck! I’m gonna come–” Your hips start to grind against her tongue even faster as you got closer to the edge.
Tashi lets you use her face to get off, her hands sliding up and down the side of your thighs soothingly as you come. She works you through your orgasm, her tongue sliding along your sensitive skin until you’re physically pulling her away.
Tashi presses one last kiss to your hip before she stands, pulling your shorts and panties back up your legs as she does. You’re still trying to catch your breath, leaning up against the lockers as she buttons your zipper for you. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your eyes are glossed over and hazy. She smiles, giving you a soft kiss with your release still coating her lips and tongue. You kiss back regardless, slow and sweet like molasses. 
Tashi pulls away first, giving your cheek a quick tap before stepping away to pick up her bag up off the floor. “Come on,” she offers you her hand, nodding her head towards the door. “Let’s go get frozen yogurt.” 
You smile, making your way across the room to slide your hand into hers. Tashi goes to push the door open, but you stay in place, tugging her hand back. When she turns to face you, there’s a look on your face she hasn’t seen before. “You’re everything too.” 
Your tone is so sincere, so genuine that she feels her heart grow three sizes. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at her like she’s a God. It’s exactly what she wanted. She smiles, giving your hand a hard squeeze and finally dragging you out of the locker room.
Duncan: Game, Set, Match.
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poisonous-honey · 9 months ago
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Fontaine Is Committing Childe Slander fr
Spoilers For The 4.2 Archon Quest
Content: Sagau reader insert (not the cult au), a lot of swearing
Note: Wrote this a while ago, just didn't post till now. This was written because of how frustrated I was with Childe's treatment in the quest. They did him so, so dirty.
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"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
Hearing your scream, Neuvillette, Aether, and Paimon nearly flinched and gave themselves away if it wasn't for Skirk quickly turning around and staring them dead in their eyes.
"AFTER ALL OF THAT, WE DON'T EVEN GET TO TALK TO HIM? WHAT THE HELL"
They never liked hearing you get upset, but since this was a scripted event, they could do nothing but play their parts. Aether wanted nothing more than to jump in and find Childe for you, if even just to get you to stop yelling, but his hands were tied. And seeing the intense look the lady across from him was giving, he doesn't think he'd be able to get away with it even if he tried.
"No 'hey, how're you doing? What's up? Where the fuck did you go? How did you end up fighting a god-damn space whale? I was worried.' We really get to say none of that? Skirk just throws him away like he's yesterday's trash? At least, I think that's Skirk... Okay, fine, whatever."
The group notices a slight twitch in Skrik's expression, as if she was annoyed, but it's gone not a moment later.
"Skirk I hope you're kinda funny cause this is a terrible first impression."
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Skirk watches as Neuvillette sends the traveller topside, hoping that he starts the scripted conversation without any hassle.
"Was it necessary to throw him so aggressively into the portal?"
Of course, that's not what happened. If Childe's mad ramblings were anything to go by, all of those that become the players "characters" seem to grow inexplicably attached to them. She didn't hold his words in high regard since he was insane, but seeing the hydro sovereign already taking a liking to you gives some weight to his words.
"He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle."
Neuvillette, still looking troubled, tells her that you really wanted to see him again after nearly 2 years of nothing.
"Didn't you also upset the player when you pounced on him and sent him to prison for no good reason?"
Neuvillette gave a slight wince, "I had no other choice. The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale gave the sentence and the law must be upheld."
Skirk doesn’t look amused, Neuvillette just sighs "... And the action itself was scripted. I had my hands tied."
"Then you have no right to look so troubled over my actions. It was simply scripted, nothing deeper. I would not intentionally go looking to upset the player, especially since they can control whoever they want. I have no desire to go back to the surface, which I would be forced to if they ever felt like messing with me."
He hums, "The player has much less control than you think. Even if they wanted to take control of you, they wouldn't or shouldn't be able to do so for quite a while. Falling into their good graces is the only way to get chosen, and you seem to have only just piqued their interest."
Neuvillette was just stating facts. He heard you crying about how your latest wishing session for Furina took everything you had. He doubts even if Skirk’s banner was a couple patches from now you'd have enough to get her. Skirk herself looks a little frustrated at the mention of gaining your favour, but quickly lets it go. 
"As long as I have time to prepare, I suppose. Anyway, We should have our scripted conversation before time runs out. Unless you want them to start freaking out again."
"Of course not, let us continue."
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"The fuck do you mean he's already in Snezhnaya."
Lyney's eyes slightly widen in shock, not expecting that visceral of a reaction. Aether slightly shakes his head to try and get him not to worry about it while Paimon starts her bashful idle as a way to look elsewhere without arising suspicion.
"We don't even get to say goodbye, what the heck. Wait, we never even figured out what was going on with his vision either. They actually just threw him to the wayside! If he doesn't show up in the next interlude, I'm going to be ☆mad☆"
Aether tilts his head down as he starts to ponder. He was also a bit frustrated with how little they learned about what was going on with him. Obviously the whal- Narwhal was involved in someway, but nothing is explained outside their connection. He's suddenly ripped from his thoughts as you pick his next dialogue option and continue the story.
The story continues for a little bit as Arlecchino arrives to join the conversation. You add in some quips of your own as you're watching, but are mostly silent. They just take it as you being tired from the whirlwind of emotions the quest put you through.
Aether then realizes the next actions he has to take and struggles to keep a straight face.
*Actually, I just remembered something... Please help us deliver this.*
"I swear to god, don't give her Childe's vision. He hates her. He trusted us."
Aether can no longer hold back his wince as he holds out Childe's vision for Arlecchino to take. She almost looks amused as they hear you sigh.
"Goddammit."
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Childe was in agony.
This pain went far beyond his physical injuries. The last words he heard from you were you crying out to him. It frustrated him to no end that by the time he gets to see you again, he passes out. He can barely remember your words of praise and cooing about how cool he was for fighting such a creature. Your worry and the fact he doesn't even get to talk to you after all this time hasn't left the forefront of his mind since he woke up. Injuries be damned, he wanted to find the Traveller. He wanted to get something out of that vacation, more than just one conversation, getting arrested, and an incomplete fight. He thought that as long as you still had his vision, he would surely see you again and his vacation would end smoothly, but of course the story seemed to have it out for him. All he could do now was lay here in pain, stuck in his mind while his family is off doing something else.
He's upset he didn't get to finish his fight and that you had to finish it for him.
He's upset his foul legacy has taken such a toll on his body, he can't do anything.
He's upset that his family has to see him in such a state.
He's upset he missed your first encounter with Skirk.
He's upset he didn't even get to talk to you again.
And more than anything, he's upset he can't be there for you.
As he was about to continue wallowing in self-pity and regret, he suddenly finds himself fully geared, standing in front of the Abyss, with no injuries.
"Such bullshit. I loved the story quest, but why was Childe pushed to the side. It's almost like they had no idea what to do with him after they got him to the whale. Oh! It's just one of the creatures he's been wanting to fight for nearly all his life. Do we get to know how he feels about it? Nooo of course not. My man just wanted to go on vacation, and he had to deal with all of this."
Hearing your voice almost washes away all his stress, and hearing you complain about how he was treated washes away all his sorrow. It pleases him to know you hated what happened to him just as much, if not more, than he did. He could tell from your ranting and the fact you've already gotten 36 stars that you were going to fight just to let off steam. That's perfect for him. Killing something is just what he needs to take his mind off of recent events, killing things with and for you makes it even better. He'll be sure to make the best of this before you log off for the day, and he's back to being bedridden.
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vxnuslogy · 6 months ago
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— the angel who lived. ft sunday
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— warnings: f!reader (referred to as mother) but still uses "you/they" pronouns, angst, mentions and themes of death, brief mentions of blood, very lengthy/word vomit (~8k words), not proofread that much so apologies for any grammatical errors
— author's note: this is more of a character study on sunday and how i think he'll come to learn that escapism isn't really the way go about things but overall, i'm really happy with how this turned out. i hope you guys enjoy :p
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death doesn't have a requirement. regardless of age, gender, or race, it will eventually reach everyone at the right moment.
sunday has always remembered the words - or rather the rumors the dreamchasers spoke of - that when death comes knocking at their door, they'll be clad in purple and a trusty crow perched on their shoulder for a companion. sunday wasn't the type of man to believe such rumors, but now, after waking up from what seemed to be an endless dream, he was forced to believe their words.
“can the angel walk?” you spoke. emphasizing the way you called him angel made sunday furrowed his brows in contempt. you were mocking him. with a huff of his breath, he slowly rose from his  position and walked with you.
“where are we?” he asks. you looked at him from the corner of your eyes before replying. “death's waiting room.” sunday felt his blood run cold. “you'll be staying here with me and the rest until your time is up.” he wanted to question you more. press you for answers on when and where death will take him.
but he never had the chance to. not when children of all ages came rushing towards you, all with bright smiles on their faces. he stood in shock, mind boggled at the thought. they were hugging death. did they not feel any ounce of fear?
one of the many children that surrounds you took notice of his presence. she had long brown hair kept in two low pigtails and bright green eyes that remind him of the garden he and robin used to play in when they were just their age. she waved him over and you urged him to walk up the steps of the giant house that stood in front of him.
“you'll be staying here with us until your time runs out. do be an angel and help me around with the chores, alright?”
and so for an indefinite amount of time — and against his will — helped you around the “orphanage”. 
the younger children were all unruly and liked to cause trouble. every morning he'd wake up to a young child jumping on his bed and would be subsequently dragged into his bathroom to get ready. they'd tug at his hand with an iron grip - it really wasn't, sunday could easily pry his hand away but choose not to hurt the child’s feelings - leading him to the main kitchen where you and one of the oldest girls, elenaor he learned, cooked everyone breakfast.
“woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i presume?” your voice laced with amusement made sunday sigh. putting on the apron elanaor had given him, he reluctantly stood by your side and waited for you to hand him a few ingredients to chop. “it was more of woken up by a gremlin and getting dragged all the way here.” your and elanaor’s snickers of amusement never failed to make heat rise up to his cheeks. he had to fight the urge to hide behind his wings, if he did, you'll tease him relentlessly. this wasn't how he would normally act under any circumstances. he had a reputation to keep, but here, in what you call “death's waiting room”, no one knew him. so he was free to act how he wished.
“you've been here for a while,” turning off the tap, you pat your hands dry and walk towards a pot on the opposite side of where he was. “you'll get used to it.”
“i don't think seeing “death” act like a mother towards soon to be dead children is something i’ll ever get used to.”
the halovian bit his tongue the moment his words stumbled out of his mouth. he could still hear you moving around the kitchen but you had made no effort to respond. sunday was ready to issue an apology but you had beat him to it.
“it's something i’ve never really gotten used to.” the sound of chopping ceased from his station. the sound of water boiling echoed between the two of you - he hadn't realized that elanaor had left to escape the tense atmosphere - he turned to stare at your back, watching you dutifully stir the pot. something that reminded him of his mother. he wonders then, did you also take his mother here to this very orphanage. did she also chop ingredients as you stirred soup?
“i find that quite hard to believe…” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. so unlike the voice of the head of the oak family.
you turn to him with a raised brow. “and why is that?” he walks to your station, chopped vegetables in his hand as he dumped them into the pots before putting the lid back on. “you look at home here. is this your home, death?”
you close your eyes and smile. “for a while, yes, yes it is.” 
sunday didn't question you further. the two of you quietly set the plates on the multiple tables in the dining room. he would often take glances at you, soaking in the black off shoulder top you wore under that frilly apron; the long muted purple skirt that swayed with your movement like it was your dance partner for years; and the most eye catching of them all, the black gloves you never took off. all of the sudden, sunday remembered this one particular rumor about you.
“they say before death became death, they carried life in their steps; but their fingertips eventually caused everything they touched to wither away.”
sunday wonders if that particular rumor is actually true.
elanaor came back with wary eyes flickering between him and you. with a small smile from you, the girl started taking the utensils from the cabinet and started laying them on either side of the plates. sunday will never get used to this almost domestic scene unfolding in front of him.
“breakfast is ready!” you cup your hand beside your lips as your voice echoed throughout the house. it wasn't long before little feet dragged against the wooden floor and started to pile in the dining room. “be sure to wash your hands first.” your gentle reminder was met with a chorus of ‘we remember!’. 
sunday stood idly in one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest as he started to remind himself of the next chores he'd be doing. sighing to himself, he pushed through his messy hair as his wings fluttered. without another word, he left the dining room and made his way to the backyard where there were piles of wet clothes waiting to be hung dry.
“oh! good morning, mr. sunday!” said a young boy with blonde hair and matching blue eye - the other covered with a black eye patch. “good morning, louis.” he replied with a smile before starting to take a few pieces of clothing and helping the boy with his chores.
“breakfast is ready,” sunday reminded. “i’ll take it from here.” louis shook his head and continued his actions. the older man didn't bother to urge him to get breakfast further. if there was one thing he learned by being here, it's that the children had adopted your stubborn and independent nature.
after hanging all the clothes, sunday bid louis to get breakfast - scolding him for trying to skip eating - and quietly made his way back to his room and plopping rather ungraciously on his bed with a sigh. his arm came to cover his eyes as he pondered, “when will death come to me?”
“not now, that's for sure.” 
sunday quickly sat up from his position to see you come inside his room, a tray with plated food in your hands.
“it's rather rude to enter someone's room without knocking first.” he barked. you only rolled your eyes at him and placed the tray on the small table in the middle of his room. “i did, but the angel seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice.” 
“be sure to finish everything. once your finished, bring them downstairs so i can clean them.”
and without another word, you exited his room. sunday sighed for the nth time today and made his way to the table, pulling a nearby chair and said his prayers before digging in.
he didn't want to admit it, but you were a good cook. every dish that you served him tasted like home; as if you had dug around his mind to take all of his nostalgic feelings and poured them all in the soup he was eating now. for “death's waiting room” it was ironically peaceful. sure the children would get into scuffles here and there, but without a fail, you'd come just in the nick of time and quell the burning banters.
but today you seemed distracted. sunday was an observant person by nature; he reads through people's emotion by the frequency they create and interpret them through the halo behind his head. recently, your usual soft yet peculiar frequency was replaced by something erratic; something that couldn't sit still. in the back of his mind, sunday wonders if it's related to the crow that's been following you like a shadow recently.
taking the tray in his hands, he made his way back downstairs to help you wash the dishes. on the way the children greeted him with bright smiles as they haul one another to play in your reading room, eager to pick out the bedtime story he or you would read later tonight despite it not being even noon. sunday didn't fight the small smile that crept up his face as some of the older kids tried to take the tray away from his hands, urging him to rest while they wash his plates.
“it's nothing to worry about.” he would reassure them with a pat on the head. “a few plates won't be the death of me.” 
by the time he was back in the kitchen, his chest began to feel heavy as you and elanaor talked. both your backs facing him but judging from the heavy and somber frequency you created, he could only assume you're talking about something sorrowful.
“angel?” you're voice snapped him out of his stupor. “apologies, i zoned out.” he avoided your eyes as he set the down his dirty plates to the side and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.
“you alright?” you question him, a brow quirked up in wonder. he looked to elanaor who was already looking at him with worry, “i should be the one asking that, but i’m alright.” you only hummed as you wiped your hands on the spare cloth and took off your apron.
“i have something i need to do.” 
elanaor's frequency spiked making sunday’s heart skip a few beats. 
“ely, angel, can you keep an eye on the children? i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
“mother, wait!”
sunday felt his eyes widen as elanaor called you “mother”, dropping the plates she held on the sink and instead came to grip at your arm. her head hanging low as her hands curled into fists.
“does he need to go…?” she asks, voice below a whisper.
golden eyes met yours. sunday was trying to decipher how, or rather, why, your frequency suddenly flatlined, like how a heart would when someone passed. you were the first to break eye contact. leaning down to whisper something in elanaor's ear that broke the girl’s heart.
“angel.” your voice felt off too. it made his ears ring uncomfortably. it sounded like an untuned violin trying to play a complicated piece to impress the audience. “keep the children entertained while i’m absent.”
sunday didn't like you; he hated you. but right now, as you left the poor girl trying to harshly rub away the obvious tears spilling from her eyes, not bothering to turn back as you walked away, he decided he hated you even more.
“i understand. we’ll proceed like usual.”
your office was off limits to certain people for various reasons, but sunday and elanaor were exceptions. without turning to look back, you heard elanaor's voice from the other side of the door as you put the telephone down.
“come in.” you called out. the creak of the door always unnerved girl, you said you'd get it fixed but after the angel’s arrival you hadn't found any time to do so. “do you need something?”
“the children are asking for you.” this time it was the angel who spoke. his voice like a river flowing endlessly in a creak, you were distinctly aware that his kind had a natural affinity to having captivating voices. 
“i’ll be down in a—”
you were cut off as a crow started cawing and scratching at your window. from its reflection you see elanaor look down and sunday staring at you with a narrowed gaze. with a sigh, you circled around your desk and opened the window. the crow situated itself on your shoulder, a piece of paper tied around one of its foot.
“the two of you go ahead of me.” you spoke, taking the piece of paper from the bird. “i still need to finish this.”
from the corner of your eyes, you see elanaor leave but sunday didn't budge from his spot.
“something the matter, angel?”
“enough with the mind games, death.” 
he barged in your office, closing the door on his way and standing face to face with you. an angry fog clouding his eyes that reminded you of molten gold and sweet dreams.
“what's going on?”
“nothing is going on.”
“you're a terrible liar.” he snapped. you quirked a brow at him with a tilt of your head that made him even more furious. 
“so the angel can feel angry. that's good to know.” you turn your back on him and open up the piece of paper in your hand despite already having guessed it's content.
gaining back his composure, you heard him take a deep breath before trying to calmly question you further.
“what did you whisper to elanaor this morning?”
“i believe that's none of your business.”
“you—!”
sunday was ready to snap again but reigned himself in just in time for you to walk past him.
“if you're so curious,” you opened your office door and paused to turn back on him. “why don't you join us later tonight?”
“join you for what?” he didn't like where this one was going. the air felt heavy, it's as if the entire world were resting on his shoulders. it didn't helpt that you gave him a bitter closed eyed smiled as you left the room.
“one of our boys will be leaving soon.”
“and so, they all lived happily ever after…”
by the time you and sunday reached the reading room, children of all ages were all huddled into a cozy circle with elenaor in the middle. in her lap was an old storybook you had found in one of your travels.
you placed blankets on each and every children sleeping on their makeshift fortress of scattered pillows and stuffed animals.  brushing some of their hairs away from their eyes, letting your gloved hand linger on their faces for a while longer. all the while, sunday kept his gaze on you as elenaor stood by his side, storybook in her hands with an iron grip.
after tucking in everyone, you joined the two of them. you were the last one to exit the room. turning off the lights and letting your gaze loiter around the many sleeping faces in the now dark room.
“let's go.” you uttered with a sigh. taking the storybook from elanaor's hand and tucking it under your arms. “where are we going?” sunday asked who was a few paces behind you.
“we'll be bidding farewell to one of the older boys here.”
he didn't question you further like you had imagined, but you were grateful nonetheless. on the way you stopped by your office to take a candlestick and lit it up to serve as your guide through the dark house.
after climbing up a few steps, you stopped in front of an old rusting door. turning back to elanaor and sunday, you asked, “are you sure you want to be here?”
sunday was the first to answer. 
“you were the one to invite me.” he crossed his arms over his chest. he kept his eyes closed to hide the anxiety he felt, but the wings behind his ears betrayed him as they came to try and hide away half of his face.
you turn to elanaor who only nodded solemnly.
“death doesn't have a requirement..” you mutter as you open the door and enter the room. the two followed you inside and heard elenaor choking back on her tears. “it will eventually come to everyone, regardless of their age, gender, race.”
“death will find us all.”
in the cold and lonely room stood a bed, a boy with deadly pale skin laid there as he looked at you with a knowing look on his face.
“it's good to see you again, mother.”
sunday was at a loss for words as you sat down on the edge of the bed as you took off the gloves you wore and placed them on the bedside table along with the candlestick. the crow that was perched on your shoulder came to rest on the boy's bedframe instead.
“it's good to see you again too, corvy.” the sickly boy reached out his hand to pet the crow’s head but heaved a cough in the middle of the action.
the sound of his coughing urged elenaor to leave his side and run towards that other side of the bed opposite to yours. she gripped the sheets in a tight fist, sunday feared her palms would begin to bleed if she gripped any tighter.
“everyone's time eventually runs out…” you mutter as a strange red chord appeared in your hands the moment you touched the boy's forehead. “it's only a matter of when and how you're time runs out.”
“did you enjoy your stay here, michael?”
the boy named michael smiled with content. his boney hand holding yours that rested on his cheek.
“i did, mother.” you smiled at his response. the same smile you would greet the children with once they have woken up; the same smile the children would close their eyes to whenever you finished reading them a bedtime story. 
“that's good. i’m reassured that i did my job just fine.”
“you've always done a good job, mother.”
sunday couldn't believe his eyes. he didn't want to believe his eyes as your tears slowly cascaded down your face as you leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. elanaor jumping over to your side and hugging you tightly as her tears soaked your shirt.
your other hand came to hold the red string that was tied around the boy's sickly figure on the bed. you motioned your hand in a weird way and suddenly a pair of black scissors appeared. sunday felt his blood run cold as sweat dribbled down to his chin. 
“may destruction have mercy on you.” you whisper to him, forehead resting against his. “leading your journey in the afterlife, forever peaceful.”
“may this be the end of your painful dreams.”
and in the blink of an eye, the cord was cut and the boy closed his eyes.
sunday read the way his lips moved and felt his heart break in sympathy.
“may you have peaceful dreams, too, mother.”
you carried destruction — death — in your fingertips. ever since that night, sunday had kept his distance from you. he always kept his distance with you, but now, you would never catch him standing near your vicinity. 
the children found it strange. the two of you, without a fail, would always banter back and forth until the halovian had to leave to do other chores. some would turn to elenaor and ask what had happened between the two of you, but girl would only smiled with her eyes closed, pat them on the head and say “it's alright, they'll come around.”
but sunday thought otherwise.
how could death, shed any tears? it didn't make any sense. you were an emanator of destruction - he deduced from your words that night - death itself, so how come you brought life to the very house he and the soon be deceased children here?
they all considered you a mother. a mother. a parental figure they could go to to share their sorrows and woes. 
you couldn't possibly be the death he's come to know and fear, but at the same time you were. 
he wanted to hate you. hating you would be easier. it is easier. but his mind kept reminding him of the multiple times you would treat these children with the utmost gentleness. because you knew that one wrong touch could end their dreams.
“mr. sunday,” he looked up from his downcast position to look at elenaor. she'd been crying, sunday concluded. her eyes were red around the corners and she would sniffle from time to time. “will you be joining us for lunch?”
“ah…” he awkwardly turned his head away to hide the scratch that one of younger girls had accidentally given him. if she were to notice, elenaor would come bursting into your office to inform of his injury. “i’m feeling rather full as of now. I'm afraid i’ll have to decline.”
“i… see…” she only gave him a closed eyed smile. “well, goodbye then, mr. sunday.”
he waved goodbye to the girl who ran back inside the orphanage and sighed. hand coming to graze the cut on his left cheek and wincing as he did so.
“it'll get infected if you don't get that treated soon.”
sunday visibly froze, much to his dismay, as your figure emurged from his side. speak of the devil and they'll arrive, he thought.
“it's a scratch.” he weakly argued to which you only just hummed.
he kept his eyes on his hand playing with the grass as a shadow was cast over him. sunday flinched back when a gloved hand came to reach for his face, making him back up more to the tree he had been leaning on all morning. his actions startled you making you recoil your hand, all the while your hair obscured your eyes. but sunday swore he saw a flash of hurt in them. he felt guilty.
against his better judgement, his free hand came to hold yours in his. 
“sunday?!” you said in shock trying to pull your hand away.
your hand was warm. he wondered if they ever got sweaty and uncomfortable when the heat reached its peak, wearing black under the scorching sun didn't seem too appealing.
“you said my name.” sunday replied, making you furrow your brows. of all the things he took note of, it was the way you said his name. slowly, he let go of your hand and let it fall back to your side. you held such a strange expression on your face, but who was he to talk. he did something strange too.
with a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “come on, let's get that scratch of yours a bandaid.” 
sunday walked quietly with you as you navigated to the house’s makeshift infirmary. on the way there, children looked at the two of you with wide eyes and quickly rushed to each other's side to have hushed conversations.
“sit down.” you command and he followed.
the following minutes were spent in silence. you scavenging for a bandaid and some disinfectant, while he sat on the bed watching you move from one place to another.
“look to the right for me, angel.” your voice instructed him. this time, it wasn't your usual soft tone, nor was it the mellow and somber one on that night. it was more monotone this time around but still held some semblance of what he assumed was “fondness”.
your fingers carefully dabbed the cotton on his scratch before placing a bandaid over it. sunday noticed you didn't let your touch linger on his face like how you would when you patched up some of the kids when they got their own injuries.
“do you sing?” sunday asked on a whim, making you pause as you put away your tools. “what brought this on?” you question with a tilt of your head.
“louis and i heard someone humming the other day.” his finger grazed the fresh bandaid on his face. gold eyes never leaving your figure as you turned to look at him. “he told me you often hummed some of the children to sleep.”
“there's your answer then.”
sunday wanted to throw a pillow to your face. with an aggravated sigh, he stood up and followed you out the door.
“would it kill you to try and answer directly?”
“maybe.”
before you could step out of the infirmary, a pecking noise came from one of the windows, stopping sunday and you in your tracks.
you left his side and opened the window and let the crow inside the room. like the first time, it sat on your shoulder as you unraveled the piece of paper it handed you.
“will another child be leaving?” he mumbled. you walk towards him again and the both of you walk out of the infirmary. “everyone in this orphanage will leave.” your eyes met his and sunday pondered on what was going on in your mind.
“including you?”
“yes.” your answer was unexpected. “including me.”
“how so?”
“i’m no exception, angel.” there you were again, calling him by that blasted pet name. he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as he followed you to the library. “i may bring death, but death will eventually come for me one day.”
“will someone replace you once you're gone?” 
you only nod your head in agreement. hands grazing the many spines of the books that make up your library.
“ely would probably replace me.”
sunday pressed his lips to a firm line. in his mind, it made sense. elanoar was undeniably the closest child to you. she even accompanied you and him when michael departed, and he could only imagine how many children she's seen leave this orphanage in that room.
“they aren't really children, you know.”
the gray haired man furrowed his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?”
“you know what dreamscapes are, right?” he nods and follows you to sit down on one of many seats in the library beside the window. “people sleep and enter this fantastical world created by your predecessors. this place is similar. the reason why i call it “death's waiting room”, is because it's actually a waiting room.”
“do you mean…” sunday paused, trying to connect all the pieces you've given him. “these… children… they probably aren't children. they're people who've fallen asleep and are waiting for death.”
“exactly.” you flip through the pages of the book you had taken from one of the shelves. every page was filled with different words in elegant cursive handwriting. “right now, you're in a dream. waiting for your time to run out. waiting for death to come to you.”
“then, if that's the case, when will you cut the cord of my life?”
“even i don't know the answer to that.”
“is my name not written on the paper your companion gave you?”
you shook your head. “then how do you know when someone's time is up?” you take a few minutes to organize your thoughts, trying to think of a way to explain it, but in the end you couldn't.
“i don't know.”
“you don't know?!” sunday snapped. hands crashing on the wooden table as he stood up. his eyes were furious at you, making you sigh. “i’m not a god, angel.” you snap the book shut in hand. the sound echoing in the empty library as sunday sat back down. 
“i may bring death to everyone i touch, but i am no more than a pawn in the grander schemes of things.”
“even i don't know why death comes to take the lives of us humans.”
sunday was speechless as he looked at you. you looked tired — absolutely exhausted — just like how his sister would describe him whenever he refused to leave his office back in penacony.
“i… apologize..” he bowed his head in shame. “i don't normally lose my composure like this.”
“it's fine.” he heard you sigh. “everyone grows on edge when death is waiting outside their door.”
“do you have to cut the cord?” 
what a silly question, you must've thought. but sunday wanted to know even if what he was asking was inevitable.
you only smiled bitterly in response.
“even i fear the consequences of death, angel. i have to.”
sunday felt sick in the stomach when dinner approached. his ears ringed with your response, that you too, will eventually meet your end. it made him sick, and he didn't want to admit it. 
he didn't come down to the dining room as usual. he expected elenaor to knock on his door, carrying a tray of food, something she's been doing after michael’s departure. but this time, when he opened the door, he had to stop you from stumbling inside his room as elenaor kept pushing you inside even with her hands occupied.
“elenaor..?!” you both whisper yell to the girl.
“you two need to talk!” she said with a huff. you winced when she dropped the tray of food on his table. “everyone's been worried about you two, y'know.” you both look away, sunday scratching his cheek while you were blatantly ignoring the girl as she put her hands on her hips.
“mother,” she called out to you but you pretended to not hear. “mother!” she said a little louder, now standing in front of you as she tugged and whined for you to acknowledge her. “you're so mean, mother!”
sunday’s wings hid the growing smile and laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the comical sight. 
your cold facade was cracking with the way your lips were curving upwards; eyes pooling with mirth as the girl continued to scold you for some odd reason.
“and you!” elenaor pointed at sunday with her finger. he saw you snicker under your breath, fist in front of your lips, a futile attempt to hide your amusement. “you're supposed to be the more mature one between the two of you!”
“i am?” he points to himself with a tilt of his head. “yes!” she replied with a huff. elanaor made her way to the door, but not without giving the two of you another half attempt to glare. “by tomorrow, the two of you should be back to normal!” and for good measure, she slammed the door shut on the both of you.
the room was quiet, that is until, your giggles filled the room. your poor attempt in stopping your laughter made sunday's eyes go wide in shock, though he didn't know why. you always laughed in the house. be it from the teasing you always do to him and the other kids or by something else, you were always a giggly person.
but this was different. sunday just knew this was different. the way your eyes crinkled and shaped itself into little crescent moons and how tears of pure joy would escape every now and then. and your smile, aeons your smile. that smile didn't belong to death, it belonged to you.
sunday's laugh rang like church bells, you had to double check if what you were hearing was real. the two of you shared a moment of silence before erupting into fits of giggles again. the sound reminded you both of children running around the orphanage, playing kings and queens, monsters and knights, and the laughter that came after all the playing.
“what a strange girl she is.” sunday said after coughing into his fist. he had to reign himself in when you laughed in reply. “she is. but she's my strange girl.” 
your eyes lingered on the door the younger girl had slammed. they held such fondness, sunday wouldn't have guessed the “death” he's always been afraid of would be so loving.
“well, now that's done.” you wipe away any stray tears left and motion sunday to his food. “eat. louis told me you hadn't eaten lunch. you must be starving.”
sunday sat down on the chair while you sat on the edge of his bed. smoothing out any creases on his blanket as he ate his food. every once in a while, he'd look at you between bites and still see that smile present on your face. 
“you should smile more.” he said before wiping his lips on the towel elanaor had kindly prepared his food with.
“i could say the same to you, angel.” you look back at him. the same soft smile still on your lips as the streams of moonlight in this beautiful dream started to fill in the gaps of the window in the room, bathing you in a glow that made you look divine. “you look more handsome when you smile.”
he coughed into his fist as you laughed. wings coming to try and cover his face and hide his flustered state. 
“i never… took you one for compliments.”
you tilt your head curiously, “do i not look like the type to give compliments.” sunday shook his head. hair and wings following his movement that made you swoon inside, it was nothing short of adorable. seeing the always composed mr. sunday stuff his face with the food you cooked for him.  
this wasn't good. but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.
“you're wrong then.” you say as you let yourself fall onto his bed.
“are you fond of children?”
“well, i wouldn't have gone through all this trouble by creating this dream if i wasn't.”
“just answer me directly, death.”
you laugh again in response. how strange it was, that the name “death” the halovian would always use to describe you no longer sounded hostile.
“yes.” you said softly. “i’m very fond of them.”
“why?” he questions. you hear the sound of plates and utensils move around and it wasn't long before another weight made the bed dip from the other side. “everyone dreams of having their own family, angel. i’m no exception.”
you closed your eyes for a moment before they open again in bewilderment as you looked to your side.
your right hand, still with it's glove on, was being held by sunday's own hands. his thumbs and index finger would tug at your fingers before his palm settled in your own. 
you could hear the way your heart was beating in your ears. “do you not fear death, angel?” you ask as you let the man play with your hand like a child.
“i do.” he answered. you felt the bed dip and shift as he turned to lay on his side. “but recently, i've come to know them very well.”
you close your eyes again. letting the feeling of sunday tracing shapes in your palms lull you into a momentary sleep.
“what is death like, if you've gotten to know them very well.”
“death is a scary thing.” he paused, making sure you were listening. “i tiptoed around it back at home, like how two siblings would've tried to hide from their father when they played hide and seek.” 
“i didn't believe death existed until it took something - someone - very important away from me. it was the first time in a while did i felt the fear and fury of it all being poured into my body.”
“do you hate death, angel?” you ask, still not opening your eyes.
“i do.” he answered with no hesitation, making you scoff. “death is impatient, not waiting for me to finish my explanation before jumping to conclusions.”
alright, you admit, he got you there.
“i hate death. i don't ever want to experience it anytime soon. it takes and it takes, and i don't want it to take anything important away from me ever again.” you felt sunday weave your fingers together as he spoke. “but i learned that death, also gives.”
“death is a lot kinder than i imagined. they didn't snarl or bite - but they did tease and scoff - at me. they're fond of children, much to my surprise. treating them with the utmost care and gentleness, even i believe i don't possess.”
“death, though not intentionally, showed me that even beautiful dreams can cause suffering. something i've refused to believe — to acknowledge — for the longest time.”
“are you scared?” you ask. opening your eyes to turn to lay on your side as well. not letting sunday's hand slip away from yours.
“no, not anymore.” somehow, you could almost see the smile his handsome face wore. “because death is gentle when someone's time is up.”
“what if they aren't gentle with you?”
“well,” he only chuckles. “death is gentle with me right now, are they not?”
ah, he got you again.
sunday, from a very young age, was taught that dreams were one of the many ways that the gods used to convey their intentions to mankind.
all his life, sunday had seen the ugliest side of humanity and yet he wished nothing but the best for them. he dreamed of creating a paradise where humanity no longer had to fight for survival; the strong wouldn't grow stronger nor will the weak grow weaker. everyone would be equal. 
sunday's existence was to be everyone's savior; their saving grace in this perpetually cruel world. he would willingly spend the rest of eternity in solitude if it meant that others could live in a paradise, free from all misery and suffering.
he's never seen anything wrong with wanting to escape; taking the easy way out. who would want to be in pain after all.
you would.
why does life slumber? he always asks — he wanted to ask you but never got that chance to. 
“we slumber because we don't want to wake up. we do not wish to see a painful and unfair tomorrow. we want to hold on to this beautiful dream where everything is alright. because we fear the future, we don't wish to wake up. the future is not kind, not to everyone. we will lose everything.”
“but we still have to.”
jolting awake, sunday pressed his hand over his chest where his heart was beating erratically, its sound ringing uncomfortably in his ears. no longer was he in the orphanage he'd grown accustomed to. now, he was all alone, in a damp, cold, and dark room.
“can the angel walk?”
twisting his head to the side, there you sat. the same black off shoulder top, muted purple skirt, and your companion perched on your shoulder as you close the book in your grasp.
you smiled at him. “so the angel can wake up, good to know.” your words ring in his ears. it feels nostalgic, a sudden sense of deja vu, but it left him with a feeling of doom as you walked to stretch a hand to him.
sunday took it with a moment of hesitation. he let himself be pulled up with your help and let you lead him somewhere else.
“where are we?” he asks.
“in reality.”
his eyes narrowed in a confused glare. 
“what happened to the orphanage?” he didn't like the quietness of everything. he couldn't read your emotions, frequency practically nonexistent. “gone. everyone left.”
the ground shook along with his heart. he couldn't properly process the way you took hold of his hand and began to run straight into the darkness.
he was scared. he was so uncontrollably scared with what you've done because why…. why was he still alive?
“pick up the pace angel.” you turn your head to him. a teasing smile on your lips trying to hide the panic and terror in your eyes. “don't tell me the angel forgot how to run?”
“what's going on…”
“nothing's going on.” there you were again, avoiding the question; leaving him guessing in the dark.
against his instincts — the nagging voice in his mind to follow you and run — he pried his hand away from yours and skid to a stop. 
“angel?!” you shout in confusion. your panic doubled as the ground shook more and more.
“you can't just keep me in the dark, death.” his hands balled up into fists at his sides. the look of foreboding did not suit you, he much preferred your easy going natured smile. “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.”
what a stubborn child, your mind replayed. eyes fogging up with an unreadable emotion.
“alright,” you say calmly. “how about a game then?”
sunday looked confused but stayed patient with you. something you're not used to.
“let's play a round of tag. you're it. if you tag me, i’ll tell you everything.”
“this isn't a game, death.”
sunday had come to the forlorn conclusion that he didn't even know your name.
“all is fair in love and war.” your voice matched your somber eyes. 
what did you mean in love and war? what love? what war?
“come on now, angel, can't you just play one game with me?”
his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his fears down along with his hesitation.
“okay.” he said. “let's play, but just one game.”
you smiled in thanks. “on my count, we run.”
.
“three.”
.
“two.”
.
“one.”
.
“RUN!”
and so the both of you did. you ran with such vigor, sunday felt that he'd lose here. lose the chance of finally knowing the truth.
“don't give up on me now, angel. we're almost there!”
your laughter echoed in the dim lit corridors of this nightmare that seemed to never end. but the way a crown of light bathed you, sunday felt his feet push further and further until they burned from the pain.
you kept smiling back at him. the childish smile he'd always see on the faces of the many children back in the when they also played tag. you would always be “it” and tagged one child to another, leaving you the victor by the end of it all.
but this time, sunday would rise victorious.
“brother!”
sunday skid to a stop as a body slammed on his own, nearly making him stumble down. a warm embrace enveloped him, the same embrace that woke him from his dreams of order back in penacony.
“it's mr. sunday!”
“are you alright?”
everything was too fast. one moment he was playing tag with death and now he's reunited with his sister and the astral express crew.
“robin…” he quietly murmured. arms snaking to hug his sister tightly as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “i’m here, brother.”
sunday let a smile break out of his face as he let robin check up on him. laughing at the way she weakly punched him on the chest.
“it's a good thing you're unharmed, mr. sunday.” welt said, fixing his glasses. “it took us quite a while to find you, but i’m glad our efforts weren't in vain.”
sunday furrowed his brows. “what do you mean?”
“after your disappearance in penacony, me and the astral express crew had joined forces to track you down.��� robin explained.
“i… see…” sunday pondered if the reason they weren't able to find him was because he was inside your dream.
wait.
“death?!” he shouted into the space but no one answered. he was sure that everyone was looking at him weirdly as he lightly pushed robin to the side to try and look for you.
“death?!” the pink haired girl exclaimed. “what's going on mr. sunday?!”
before sunday could respond, another tremor broke out.
“brother!”
something flashed in sunday’s mind for a quick moment. his mind replayed the first time he arrived at “death's waiting room”, how he was forced to do chores and help around, tell the children bedtime stories and tuck them in for bed. how the first night he witnessed death made his stomach swirl with uncontrollably fear and how “death” itself cried for the departed.
he remembered how elanaor barged into his temporary room and pushed you in. how he ate his dinner in silence as you smooth out the creases on his bed. how, against his own judgement, came to lay on the bed and hold your hand that he couldn't believe brought upon ruin to someone's dream.
“it's time to wake up, sunday.”
sunday felt a body hug him tightly before he was pushed out of the way. in a quick flash, a red cord wrapped around him and death before it snapped.
the loud clamor of a giant gate dropping made his ears ring. sunday felt his breath quicken as he ran to the metal gate and slammed his fist against it in a poor attempt to get it to open.
“death!” another slam of his fist. “death you said you'd explain!” and another. “don't leave me in the dark!”
sunday felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter.
and how his heart dropped when crimson started to slip through the cracks of the metal gate.
“you didn't tag me, so i still win.”
“no…” another slam of his fist, louder than ever. “no! death hang on, we can save you!”
“you can't.”
“you don't know that!”
the trailblazer came to pry him away from the gate but he persisted.
“i know death better than anyone else, angel.”
“you…!” sunday felt his legs give out on him. he could only gaze at the way your blood pooled at the floor. “what did you do…”
you chuckled. “i never thought i’d die for someone else, you know.” sunday's caught wind of the cawing noises on the other side of the gate.
“no…”
“who would've guessed i would die for your sins.”
“the papers…” and you only hummed to confirm his suspicion.
there was one thing that sunday noticed whenever s child needed to depart: your companion will always bring you a piece of paper with their name written on it.
“my name…” he weakly muttered. “i was supposed to die…”
“you were.”
were. you didn't kill him.
the papers that started to pile in your office and the way your companion never once left your side; they way that never - not even once - have you taken off your gloves off whenever you fondly brushed his bangs away from his eyes or the way you let him hold your hands.
you didn't kill him.
the room shook again, this time stronger than the previous ones.
“we need to leave, now!” the navigator shouted.
sunday felt his body being supported as the trailblazer slung one his arms over his shoulder.
“fly. fly far, far, away from here sunday; you're free now.”
how ironic it was, that you, “death” itself, would die for a man who tried to go against the principles of the aeon he claimed to follow.
you brought the head of the oak family to your waiting room, waiting for the moment when his name would be delivered to you so could cut the cord of his life. but you never did.
“you're no longer guilty, your sins have been cleansed.”
you didn't want to let him go, as he did with you when he held your hand that night.
“i’m sorry i couldn't be gentle like you hoped for. but this was the only way.”
“i hope you finally understand that human suffering is inevitable. that even when we're in pain we still find a way to value our lives.”
“we are not gods, angel, we don't get a say in what happens to humankind. but i hope you'll come around to accept that it's what makes us all human. remember us — me — with fondness in mind.”
sunday will never come to know death, because death died for him and his sins.
“i hope you enjoyed your time with death, sunday.”
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marcsburnerphone · 8 months ago
Text
And they were roomates
(Captain John price x F!reader)
Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.
Warnings: some awkward moments, kissing
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7!!!! - part 8
———————
“Look how content he looks, his eyebrows aren’t doing that scowl thing.” Gaz whispers to the boys beside him.
Ghost does a peek over to see the sight but out of all of them he knows best how light of a sleeper John can be, so one look and he quickly he backs up.
“Take a picture.” soap says menacingly. 
“I wouldn’t do that.” Ghost says.
Of course Gaz listens to the trouble maker, whipping his phone out of his pocket. The first two photos he takes are from a safe distance but as he goes to take the third he gets closer, too close. The shutter sound accidentally goes off although the ringer is on silent.
It doesn't wake you up no, but the captain's eyes shoot open, the first thing they land on is a phone in his face and he huffs an angry breath. He doesn't make a move nor let out a word in fear of waking you but the look he gives the guys standing behind the couch is deadly enough. They slowly step back and once they're at a safe distance they scurry down the hall.
At some point during the night you ended up completely on top of him. He lays there annoyed with the immature men who woke him up but absolutely thrilled that he can consciously enjoy this moment. Your head placed in the crook of his neck as you huff small breaths, your weight on top of him is almost everything he’s ever needed in this life. The way your hair wafts that familiar light floral scent is captivating. If he died right now he’d be at peace.
“John?” it startles him from his thoughts.
“Yes doll.” 
“You're so comfortable.” you whisper into his neck. He laughs while running a comforting hand over your back.
“Did you hear those idiots out here not too long ago?” he asks softly.
“Nope.” you say placing a hand on his chest to lift yourself up into a sitting position. He admires the way your eyes are slightly puffy from sleep, the way your shirt wrinkled in random places. He wants to pull you back down into him, wants to ask for five more minutes. Then he smiles cause he knows one day he’ll be able to.
“Stop staring at me.” You say softly looking away from him.
“Can I take you out tonight?” you turn back to him at that. Rubbing your eyes and smiling.
“Like on a date?” 
“Yes, will you grant me your presence for dinner?” he asks hopefully.
“Yeah.” you try to look away and hide the blush that creeps up on your face. He breathes again, he hadn’t known he wasn’t till you answered.
“Okay, em be ready by 6 then.” He inquires.
“Okay well I feel like I can’t just sit here now so I’m gonna go get in the shower.” You stand up nervously. He nods at you trying to hide behind a stoic expression just how giddy he feels inside. He watches you until you disappear around the corner before getting up. 
————
“So you asked her out?” John and the boys sit outside, there’s a cigar between John’s lips and the rest of them puff on a cigarette.
“I did.” 
“You had to threaten her to say yes, didn't you captain” Ghost jokes with a gruff laugh.
“Yer no one to talk.” Soap says in defense of his captain.
“You can’t even say you’re right.” Ghost quips back making Gaz burst out in a chuckle while John just stares at them with a straight face. 
“I’m nervous.” John admits.
“Wow, she makes you nervous. That’s hard to do.” Soap says. 
“Of what?” Gaz asks, ignoring soap.
“I feel like I shouldn’t, like she should be with someone younger, someone with a less demanding job.” They all hum not really knowing exactly how to comfort him. 
“She seems like the kind of woman that has already thought those things through.” Gaz says.
“I’m sure she has.” He replies. 
“Not to fret then, unless you’re the one with the problem.” 
“My only problem is that you're all still here.” He laughs before toking his cigar. 
“Yeah right you love our company.” Gaz replies.
—————
By the time you're out of the shower and have dressed casually for the day John’s friends are bidding you a goodbye, ghost kindly thanks you for sharing your home with them and gives you another soft handshake.
“Once again thankyou for letting me sleep in your bed, I appreciate it.” Gaz says with a small hug before walking out.
“Lass if he doesn’t treat you right you know who to call.” Soap says jokingly.
“If you don’t leave my home right now, soldier, you won’t be leaving at all.” John says seriously, waiting to shut the door. You just laugh leaning looking up at him and hint of humor in his eyes.
“All jokes, all jokes.” He yells out as he walks to the car they all crammed into. Once they pull away John shuts the door looking over to you.
“Their fun.” You say.
“More fun than I am?” 
“Yeah.” He’s surprised by your answer but at the same time not at all. Your smirk is growing into a smile as your damp hair falls over your shoulders.
“Really?” He drags out the word, giving you an opportunity to change your answer.
“Mhmm.” You say shrugging your shoulders.
“C’mere.” You laugh as he grabs at your waist throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. 
“Okay no they're not, I promise they're not.” You laugh, his fingers digging into your sides as he walks towards your room.
“Say you swear.” You kick your feet trying your best to make him let you go, but this seems to be light work for him, as if he doesn’t even feel it. 
“I swear.” You laugh harder as he throws you softly onto your bed. He climbs right above your waist hovering so he doesn’t kill you with his weight. 
“I don’t believe it.” 
“I swear I really do.” He lets up, watching you try to catch your breath as he brushes the stray hairs from your face. 
“By the way no drinking tonight, none.” You say.
“Why?” 
“Cause the last time we went out together and drank only one of us made it out with their mind in the right place.” He laughs in memory leaning down close, close enough that if you moved up an inch your lips would touch. 
“Trust me my mind hasn’t been in the right place since I’ve met you.” He brushes his lips against yours and immerses himself in that addicting shock of adrenaline it gives him every time. 
“Oh, where’s it been then?” No answer, he just leans further into you until your lips connect softly. It’s a simple kiss and it's as electric as always but isn’t enough for you this time. You slightly open your needy lips and he happily takes the hint, swiping his tongue on your bottom lip to see if he’s right on what you’re offering, sure enough he is.
It’s slow and sensual in the beginning, and it’s actually driving him fucking insane. The taste of you is captivating in itself, the soft rhythm he sets and its consistency is melting the world around you. but the soft whine you made when he lifted your head a bit to accommodate the distance between you was the cherry on top. It’s a battle of dominance and clashing of teeth from then on. Your hands went from gently being placed on his face to being intertwined at the back of his neck and he can’t get enough. He wants more and more and more.  His hands are on your waist, your face, running through your hair. He breaks from your mouth to kiss down your jaw impatient yet savoring every moment. 
“John, we can't.” He knows you can’t, not that he would, he's too gentlemanly for that, you on the other hand are dancing on the line of control. Although he's desperate and impatient for you he’s also in dire need to keep you therefore no risks.
“I know, doll.” He says into the soft spot right below your ear. When he pulls away from you the look in your eyes can make any man fall to his knees. The swell of your puffy lips and the bit of saliva on your neck with your hair strewn in different places. It’s a sight to see. 
 You smile, completely and hopelessly falling for him, desperate so desperate that if he had kissed you one more time you wouldn’t have stopped it from going further. 
“Ready in about two hours then?” 
“Yeah.” 
————
You get ready while listening to music, anything to calm the damn nerves in your entire body. You've had dinner with John before, you even live together, but this is completely different.
You dress nicely this time, warm yes, but nicely. Knowing John will either carry you or walk with you gives you leeway to nice outfits. A mini skirt with tights underneath, doc martens, fuzzy crew neck that almost goes over the skirt. You do your hair, light makeup.
You’re putting on your final touches, jewelry wise, when John appears in your bedroom doorway.
“Mmm dolled up for who exactly?” He gives you a long, obvious one up. 
“Well I don’t know who I’ll meet, you know?” 
“I know many things, dolls but not that one.” 
“Well you don’t look so bad yourself.” You laugh, but really he always looks delicious.
“Can you actually help me with this?” You say holding up a gold necklace. He walks up to you, thick fingers grabbing at the dainty jewelry. You turn around moving your hair out of the way as he drapes it around your neck. He misses the clasp a couple times but when he finally gets it he lets out a satisfied grunt. You move to put your hair back but before you can you feel the wisp of his breath on your neck as his lips meet the soft skin of your shoulder humming softly. He turns you around planting one more on your lips. 
“You really do look delectable.”
“Yeah yeah.” Your hands run over his scruff. 
“Ready to go?” He asks, encasing the hand on his cheek. 
“Yeah.”
-----------
im so sorry for the wait for this one, although its my shortest chapter yet I did put my heart into it. Being a sophmore in college isnt for the weak and im the weak.
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated<3
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