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charlottesbookclub · 5 months ago

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i'm here (ser gwayne hightower x reader) 💚💚

Summary: you have a nightmare, but gwayne is there to comfort you 💚

Warnings/Tags: spouse!reader; gn!reader; established relationship (marriage); nightmares; angst/anxiety brought on by the nightmares; absolutely catastrophic levels of tooth-rotting fluff; let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2870

Author’s Note: as I mentioned in this post, gwayne hightower has absolutely consumed my life and I am down sooooooo bad for him rn, so voilá, this fic has emerged as a result of that! 💕 as I also say in that linked post, I'm not super familiar with hotd, so I'm sorry if any of the terms I use aren't canon-accurate (I watched game of thrones a few years ago and I tried my best to make it feel authentic to the world of canon, but something may have slipped through 😅). and I hope this feels in-character to gwayne! I've rewatched the scenes of his that I have access to many times for...... uhh ~Research Purposes~ but I haven't seen all his scenes yet, so I apologize if it feels ooc at all – I did my best to make it feel like him! 🥰

oh and this is key: we've all seen the necklace, right?? we know about the necklace, right????? that fucking necklace makes me absolutely feral so I've given it a backstory, because it truly has me foaming at the fucking mouth 😌 (also, if you haven't seen the necklace, may I please direct you to this incredible gifset so we can descend into madness over it together?)

as always, I hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰 (also please feel free to share any gwayne thoughts you have – I'd love to scream about the precious man with y'all! ☺️💕)

The memory was not yours, but in this moment, it felt like it was. Gwayne had only told you the story once, with hushed words and averted eyes. You had asked, and he could never find it in himself to keep anything from you, even if it made his chest seize with shame. He told you that the whole ordeal had been a result of foolishness on his part, something he would admit only to you. He said that he recalled the memory with great embarrassment now. But you felt nothing but terror.

You stood on a large, grassy plain ringed with trees, a few wispy clouds scuddling across the blue sky above you. This was a place you had never seen, never been – but one thing was familiar. As you struggled to gain your bearings in the strange location, you saw a group of men on horseback just a short distance ahead. You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

You called out to him, but he didn’t respond; he seemed to be in conversation with one of the other men. You ran toward the small group and cried his name again, but even at close range he appeared not to hear you. Panic grew in your chest by the moment as you hurried closer still, coming near enough that you could almost reach out and touch Gwayne’s mount. You stretched out your hand to do just that when your arm was stopped by some invisible force. There was nothing in front of you, just empty air that you should have been able to move through with no difficulty. But you were trapped mere feet from your beloved, unable to reach him.

Something was terribly wrong. You screamed his name this time, desperation compressing your lungs with the force of your yell. But it was clear that he could not hear you, since neither he nor any of the gathered men so much as turned toward the sound of your cries. Real fear gripped you now, shooting ice through your veins as you cast about you for something – anything – that you could do. And that was when a new kind of fear crept over you, one so old and visceral you could feel it down to your very bones. Shudders wracked your body as you turned your eyes toward the sky, suddenly certain that you were being watched. But not just watched – no, you were being hunted.

At a loss for what else you could do, you renewed your efforts to alert Gwayne to the danger that you could feel but not yet see. You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well. It was just then that the other man finally noticed that something was wrong. He cast his eyes toward the sky as you had mere moments before, saying something to the gathered men. A wave of fear seemed to run through the horses, as there was a flurry of shifting hooves and nervous snorts. You could only watch in terror as realization washed over Gwayne’s face, twisting his handsome features into a terrifying expression of horror.

You screamed at him to run just as everything burst into motion, the horses tearing off across the plain toward the cover of the trees. You found yourself moving along with them, though you had no mount of your own. Instead, it was the same terrible invisible force, dragging you along, forcing you to watch as the scene unfolded before you.

And then you saw it: the dragon. It swooped down from the sky as though it had erupted into existence from nothing, filling the empty air with huge grey wings that seemed to blot out the sun. You screamed again, but this time without the intention of forming any coherent words – the noise that escaped your throat was an expression of the fear that was buried deep in your bones upon the sight of the creature. Its lean body shot across the plain toward the fleeing men with a kind of focus and intention that proved what you had thought from the beginning: the dragon was hunting. And worse than that, it was hunting Gwayne.

Voice rubbed raw from screaming, and realizing your cries to him did nothing anyway, you watched in terrible silence as his steed thundered across the ground, its legs eating up the distance as fast as it could. And yet the dragon gained. If this was some cruel trick played by the gods, you couldn’t think what you could possibly have done to deserve this kind of torment. You could do nothing but watch, utterly powerless, as Gwayne – your Gwayne – fled for his life, his beautiful face contorted into an expression of fear that cut you to the core like a knife to the stomach. You held your breath, fearing each moment would be the one when you were forced to watch your love be consumed by dragonfire, ending both his life and yours in one swift blow of unimaginable anguish and heartbreak from which you knew you would never recover. Just as you had resolved to try calling to him one last time – if nothing else, to assure him of your love – the treeline broke around you and the horses cantered to a stop beneath the cover of the forest.

The world was still again, but the fear lingered. You could sense the dragon above you, even hear its thin, unearthly cries as it searched for its hidden quarry. Your eyes instantly found Gwayne, needing to make sure he had survived the ordeal. Indeed, he still sat upon his steed, and you watched his chest heave as he attempted to steady his breathing. The fear that still permeated the forest remained etched on his face as well, changing his features from those of the man you had courted and married to those of a young boy, trembling and horror-struck and so helpless and small.

You longed with every fiber of your being to run up to him and pull him into your arms, to feel his warm breath on your neck as he folded into your embrace. You ached to hold his face in your hands and wipe away the single lingering tear he likely didn’t even know was still glistening on his cheek. You yearned to kiss the terror away from his brow and his nose and his lips, to tell him he was safe – to tell him that you were here.

But you were trapped just feet from him, all these longings locked into your body as you pressed toward him as far as the strange invisible barrier would allow. You watched as the fear slowly faded from his face, his features once again becoming warm and familiar. You couldn’t help but smile as he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Turning to one of his companions, he opened his mouth to say something when both of their eyes snapped up to the sky, reacting to some sound you must not have heard. You followed their gaze, and didn’t even have a chance to scream as a column of fire descended from above, ready to devour you all.

You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding loudly enough that you could hear it in your ears, and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position as you struggled to calm your ragged breathing. The darkness in the room was soft, and your eyes adjusted slowly to your surroundings, only to find them all comforting and familiar – this was your room, your home. Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

When your breathing had calmed back to a normal rate, you eased yourself back down under the covers, burrowing into his arms as he sleepily adjusted his position to accommodate you.

“Hmmm—is everything… alright?” he muttered, blinking his eyes open.

“Everything’s fine,” you assured him, “I just had a nightmare.”

He seemed to waken a little more at your words, propping himself up slightly on one arm as he reached the other hand out to stroke your cheek.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but you knew the questions were genuine.

“It was about you,” you reached up to cup his hand that still rested on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And the dragon,” you added, your words barely above a whisper. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, you were certain he was reliving the memory himself, and instantly regretted your words.

“But it was nothing,” you hurried to assure him, “I just—I just wish I had been there. Or that I could have helped or—” you were distinctly aware that your jumbled words made very little sense, even to you. “I just felt so helpless,” you ended with a sigh. Gwayne watched you with soft eyes, his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

“You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.” You just stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was the one who was dreaming now. He read the question in your eyes with a small chuckle and disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself up to sit.

Pressing a hand to his chest, his fingers found the chain of the necklace that he always wore. The charm was a delicate circle of beaten metal hanging from a simple coppery chain. You had bought it in the market one day when the two of you were still courting. The rich auburn sheen of the metal had reminded you of Gwayne’s hair, and you were determined to have it. The seller assured you that the little ring symbolized unending love and devotion – a never-ending cycle, an unbroken vow. You were doubtful that had been the original intention of the maker, but rather a ploy on the seller’s part to drive up the price after he realized you intended it as a gift for your beloved. Had it been that obvious how love-struck you were?

Regardless of whether it was intended or not, you liked the idea of the simple circle as a token of promise and loyalty, as well as a celebration of one of Gwayne’s most striking features. You had given it to him wrapped in a carefully-embroidered handkerchief when he had gallantly asked for your favor before a tourney. You cherished the memory of him asking you to help him put it on, and the fleeting touch of his skin and flaming hair you were able to steal as you clasped it around his neck. He won the tourney, and insisted that his victory was due at least in part to the precious charm you had given him, imbued with your affection and devotion. To your knowledge, he had never taken it off since.

Now, in the dim light of your shared chambers, he held the little ring out for you to see. It was slightly more battered now than it had been, and though its original shine was gone, it still seemed to glow with a warm coppery light. Reaching out, you took the small circle in your fingers, feeling all the tiny knicks and ridges it had acquired over time, each one of them proof of Gwayne’s promise to always return to you – an unbroken vow.

“See, you’re always with me, right here,” he gestured to the charm in your fingers. The feeling of the metal against your skin and the sweet memories that swirled through your mind caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes, chasing away the lingering cobwebs of fear that the nightmare had spun. Gently, you released the ring and Gwayne’s fingers replaced yours on the circle, guiding it back to where it always sat on his chest, just above his heart. He pressed it there, emphasizing his words: “right here, right where you always have been – and always will be.”

Ducking your head away, you tried to hide the tears that were now threatening to slide down your cheeks as his words. But before you could wipe them on the sheets, Gwayne’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling him back to you, the rough pad of his thumb banishing the tears from your face. His eyes sparkled with affection and mirth, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from echoing his smile.

“Hmmm… it’s more serious than I thought,” he said with mock-concern, tilting your face as though he was examining it, “you appear to be desperately and madly in love with me – a very serious condition indeed.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of your mouth as you nudged him playfully, causing him to break into bright chuckles of his own. Your chest, which just moments ago had been compressed with terror, was now so full of love and happiness you were certain it might burst.

“And tell me, Ser Gwayne, what is the cure for this most dire of conditions?” you matched his tone of feigned worry as your laughter subsided.

“Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unable to hide the dimples forming on his cheeks, proof of his barely-suppressed smile, “perhaps marriage? I have heard many esteemed lords claim that the institution of matrimony is bound to cure an ailment such as yours.”

“Oh, but I fear I’ve tried that,” you exclaimed, “and it has only made my condition worse.”

“Then this is indeed one of the most serious cases I’ve ever seen.” He pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up: “There is one more cure, but it’s risky. You could try true love’s kiss. One does read about those sorts of things working miracles after all.”

“What’s the risk?”

“The risk is that the kiss renders your condition utterly uncurable by any other means.” Gwayne’s lips tilted up into your favorite lopsided smile as he grinned at you, dimples glowing like twin suns, sending the delicate freckles on his face colliding into each other like falling stars.

“That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his. You closed your eyes as your lips met in a burst of warm sunlight that seemed to fill your whole body with its radiance. You weren’t sure how long you remained pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your skin, his auburn locks twisted in your fingers, his necklace hanging between your entwined forms.

“Did it work?” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead still resting against yours.

“No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.” You met his eyes, finding them bright and soft and just as madly and desperately in love as you were certain yours were.

“Well, I like to think of myself as chivalrous, but I don’t think I can find it in myself to regret your condition,” he whispered, a teasing smile on his face as he reached a hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

“Nor can I,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

He pulled you fully into his grasp then, maneuvering you both back under the covers without relinquishing his hold on you. You rested on his chest, head tucked under his chin as he wrapped both arms around you. Your fingers found his necklace, and you clasped it in your hand. He echoed your motion until both of your hands were intertwined around the metal circle, resting just above his heart. You could feel it beating against your skin, and you snuggled yourself even closer to him.

“This is what I imagine,” Gwayne said softly to the darkness, “when I’m on the road without you, and all I have is this small charm to remind me of what it feels like to rest in your embrace. This is what I dream of.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand where it entwined with his on the necklace. “You’re always right here.”

“I’m always right here,” you echo, your words a promise, a vow.

“But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.” Gwayne wrapped his arms even more tightly around you, and you gladly tucked yourself further into his warm embrace. You felt yourself drifting back into a pleasant sleep in the comfort and safety of his arms. You heard his words echo softly in the gentle quiet of the room:

“I’m right here.”

#charlotte writes #ser gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #ser gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower fanfiction #gwayne hightower imagine

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threeacttragedy · 8 days ago

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Entry 9: The One Where You Choose Your Own Brazilian Adventure

My planned post – the “In Dedication of JVN” one where I fangirl over Jonathan Van Ness and what a fun and interesting piece of the Lukola puzzle he is – was derailed today because I was once again asked about Brazil. Well, more specifically, I was asked about whether I thought we were ever going to get those steamy, hopefully X-rated pictures, from Brazil. There’s pictures?!

In truth, I thought we’d collectively squeezed that grapefruit dry and left the rind somewhere between Italy and the Glamour Awards.

Alas, here I am writing about Brazil.

It’s funny because I’ve never thought much about Brazil. I know, I know! How could I possibly type those words without my nose growing six inches in front of my face? Well, it’s because it was always Australia that intrigued me. More on that later…

So why exactly do we believe there are pictures from Brazil? And, why do we think they are going to prove some kind of hot affair between Luke and Nicola? This theory is likely fueled by rumor; rumor born from how Luke and Nicola behaved towards each other while they were in Brazil.

I thought it would be fun to play a little game of “Choose Your Own Adventure” to determine if we’re ever going to see these alleged pictures. And, yes, I will be a very sarcastic bitch when doing this.

Before I start, though, I want to give a quick shout out to my dear friend, whom I shall call The-One-Who-Drops-Random-Pics-Into-Our-Group-Chat-and-Lets-Us-Sweat-Over-Them-for-Atleast-Three-Minutes-Before-Finally-Explaining-Them. She was a wealth of information about Brazil and even had a nice mother-daughter chat with me about the significance of a clean-shaven face (pardon me for never having dated a bearded man, which is odd because I find facial hair quite attractive).

Now, gather ‘round and I shall give you a little prologue to our adventure!

I’m sure most of you already know all about Brazil. In fact, many of you are probably self-described experts at this point. But, for those who are new here, let me go ahead and light the candles and set the ambiance for you.

On May 19, Luke and Nicola were shuttled off to do their beach photoshoot in Brazil. You know, the one where Nicola was walking the dogs; Luke was strumming the guitar; Nicola was being all girlfriend-like fixing Luke’s jacket; Luke was gazing up at Nicola at the pub while she was touching his neck; and then there was that moment when we all thought they might kiss. Yeah, all that plus Luke’s scruffy face from the week prior suddenly appeared clean-shaven. Apparently, you can never be too “Casual” when you’re headed down south (pun intended – as was that Chappell Roan reference). And, about now is where I’ll “insert disclaimer that this is speculation only.”

The following day, we had the actual premiere. I’m not sure what those two were up to before the premiere but both were un-fucking-hinged by the time they made it to the red carpet. We had angel-face Nicola looking up at Luke like he had created the universe and Luke answering Nicola’s Little Red Riding Hood vibe with one sexy ass Big Bad Wolf persona. I mean, the bits and bobs that came out of Luke’s mouth that day! “There’s a carriage downstairs.” “I mean, in this heat, all I’m thinking about is when we didn’t have to wear clothes ‘cos that would be quite nice right now.” “I mean the show is proof that it is [okay to kiss your friends].” With Nicola whispering back, “This is true.” Then there was Luke taking that mic without taking his eyes off Nicola. We had Luke helping Nicola put on her bracelets because – God forbid! – she let go of him for 30 seconds to do it her fucking self. And, let’s not forget about the two of them holding on to each other behind that woman’s back (I’m sorry, I don’t recall her name and I’m too lazy to look it up – mainly, because I’m certain most of you don’t really care about that other woman).

We were also given snippets of Luke and Nicola at the premiere afterparty, looking like two people who, at a minimum, enjoyed each other’s company. They greeted fans outside the venue and, as they walked away together, Nicola seemingly put her hand on Luke’s lower back as if to guide him in the right direction (go ahead – let your imagination run wild – it’s a great opening for a FanFic).

Then, throw in the beach walk with the giant security guard; the interview where Nicola was wearing the fluffy pink skirt and the two of them talked about Chappell Roan’s “Kaleidoscope” (seriously, those two were listening to that song together?); Nicola couldn’t stop giggling about the “meat” of the Carriage Scene; and Luke appeared perhaps a smidge too interested in Nicola’s answer about what she looks for in a man (which fit perfectly into Luke’s “Like, how nice is it when someone notices, like, your kindness or your sense of humor?”). And, we can’t ignore them seemingly sharing a tea cup and Luke reaching for Nicola’s spoon after she’d sampled a dish. Don’t even get me started on over-analyzing Luke’s “manspread” that day.

Let’s also not forget about the rumor portion of this Brazilian escapade – because that is what fuels the sexy hot pictures theory and the central plot of our storied adventure.

Rumor has it Luke and Nicola spent a lot of time with each other in Brazil.

By themselves.

In one or the other’s room.

On the beach.

By the pool.

There were also rumors of them making out in the hotel hallway.

The only evidence we have of any “alone time” are some pictures that were dumped on X of them dining together alone, without any other members of their team.

Now that the backdrop has been set, let’s go on my little adventure.

During the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, I was bored out of my mind. I grew up in the countryside. No neighbors. No sidewalks. No cable! Just fields, wooded areas, and my two sisters, both of whom had no interest in entertaining me that summer. My mother suggested I read. After boredom had dug itself so far into my being that I was left with no choice but to read, I finally ventured over to the bookshelf and grabbed the thinnest book I could find. It was a “Choose Your Own Adventure.”

If you don’t know what a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book is, then you (and your children) are missing out. Basically, you play the role of the protagonist and make choices to determine the outcome of your story. Sometimes you make the right choice and survive; other times you make the wrong choice and get turned into a little mouse that may or may not be eaten by a cat.

Here we go.

As the protagonist of our story, you are:

THE EMPLOYEE

You’re an employee of the hotel Nicola and Luke stayed at while in Brazil. You have sworn to maintain the privacy of hotel guests; you’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement of sorts to protect the privacy of guests, especially since you have access to VIP areas. You can be a housekeeper, a watchman, a concierge, a seven-foot-tall security guard, whatever tickles your fancy. Doesn’t matter – you’re all bound by the same provisions to protect the privacy of the hotel’s guests. But, in this story, let’s say you’re the housekeeper because – what’s that old saying – the only person who knows everything going on in the house is the maid?

You’re cleaning Nicola’s room and you find lots of signs of a man being in the room. In fact, you find a coat that looks exactly like the one Luke was wearing the night of the premiere. Oh my. As you’re leaving, you see two people making out in the hallway – headed straight towards the room you’re just leaving! It looks like Nicola and Luke. What do you do?

Choice A: Well, you’re a pervy housekeeper so you pull your phone out and start taking pictures. I mean, those two are so into each other, they don’t even notice. You then run and play show-and-tell with your friends because you can’t keep a damn secret. Unfortunately for you, that gossip spreads faster than lice in a preschool, and hotel management tracks your ass down because, guess what, your friends can’t keep a secret either. So, congratulations on being fired. You’re meeting with the lawyers is first thing in the morning. Oh, we also need your phone and the names of all your friends.

Choice B: You respect the privacy of Nicola and Luke and simply turn and walk the opposite direction. Taking photos of them never even crossed your mind! But, damn, what a good story to tell your bestie when you get home, even if you don’t have “receipts.”

THE VIP GUEST

You’re a random guest staying at the hotel. In fact, you’re a random VIP guest staying on the same floor as Nicola and Luke. When you checked in, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. I mean, you want your privacy protected, too! And, heck, NDAs are thrown out like candy these days. You’ve seen so many at this point, you don’t even bother to read them.

You take the elevator up to your floor and, as you step into the hallway, you’re confronted with – goddammit, there’s two motherfuckers all over each other! The guy is trying to slide his key into the door, but the woman’s dress is so awkwardly large, he can’t seem to find the right slot! You realize the people look a lot like those two stars from Bridgerton, and your best friend, Effie, is a huge fan! What do you do?

Choice A: You can’t believe Effie is missing out on this excitement so, of course, you pull your phone out and start taking pictures!! I mean, that NDA you signed didn’t even cross your mind three minutes later when you were forwarding the pictures to Effie! And, because you can’t control what Effie does, she forwards the pictures to all her Bridgie buddies. The next morning you awaken to find the pictures all over X. Oopsie. You feel slightly guilty, and a bit peeved at Effie – but only until you’ve had your morning coffee.

Choice B: You take people’s privacy very seriously. Well, maybe you don’t take it that seriously, but it would be too difficult to dig your phone out of your handbag to take pictures. And, to be honest, Effie is the huge fan, not you. Plus, it seems the guy finally got that door open and damn, based on the sounds of it, he's unlocked something magical. Oh well. You’ll call Effie in the morning to tell her your story, if you remember it.

THE RANDOM STRANGER

You’re a random stranger taking an evening stroll along the beach. You love the sound of the ocean. It’s so peaceful…the sound of the waves… Ugh, what is that noise?! It sounds like – shit, it is! – two people snogging in a cabana about 10 yards away from you. Wait a minute – is that? Yeah, you think it could be! I mean, you were just at the Bridgerton premiere last night! What do you do? Without hesitation, you pull out your phone!

Choice A: You creep behind an umbrella and zoom in as close as possible with your camera! I mean, shite! You can’t believe this! How long have you been filming? Probably longer than necessary but who cares? Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you, perhaps a seven-foot-tall presence, and you slowly turn around. Fuck! Who’s this guy?! He takes your phone, drops it to the ground, and stomps on it, shattering its insides. Asshole. You bend down to pick up the phone, but the man taps your shoulder and shakes his head, “No.” Well, umm, yeah, I guess you best be leaving.

Choice B: You use your camera to zoom in on the couple. Snap! Snap! Snap! Then you get the FUCK OUT OF THERE! You tell yourself you don’t look suspicious at all, even though you’re practically running and your heart is about to pound its way out of your chest! Oh, thank God, you’ve made it to your car. You start it up and, like I said, YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! You get home and take a look at the photos! Goldmine! So, should you drop them on X? Maybe be a little see-you-next-Tuesday and try to sell them to Nicola or Luke’s teams? But, hell, you don’t even know where to start with that! Or, should you just pocket them for your own pleasure? You tell me….

The End.

Yes, I am absolutely being a facetious little ass! The above scenarios were for (the most part) my own entertainment. I mean, there are so many situations where these alleged pictures could exist (these playful ones don’t even scratch the surface). But, do the pictures exist?

If we’re being logical here, you would think that, if anyone in the general public were in possession of these alleged sexy-time pictures of Luke and Nicola, or had seen them, it would be all over social media at this point. I mean, ALL OVER. So, what can we deduce from the fact that they aren’t?

That the pictures probably don’t exist. Don’t shoot the messenger! Seriously, watch where you point that thing!

But, let’s say pictures did exist. Who is the most likely person to dump them on, say, X? The hotel employee, the VIP guest, or the random stranger? I would place money on the random stranger, followed by the VIP guest. The hotel employee, who probably has the most access to VIP guests but the strongest legal barriers, would be the least likely to photo dump. What is the likelihood that someone from one of these three groups – for example, a random stranger – (a) had pictures of Luke and Nicola, (b) didn’t drop them on social media, and/or (c) didn’t share them with someone who dropped them on social media?

I’m all for a good conspiracy theory but I find this one to be a hard pill to swallow.

Maybe one person can act as a lockbox for this kind of secret, but when you start including more people, the ability to keep something (like illicit photographs of two celebrities) out of the public eye diminishes rapidly.

Remember what Benjamin Franklin said, “Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

Unfortunately, this quote is incredibly accurate. The general public cannot keep secrets.

If the pictures exist, they are most likely in the possession of Luke and/or Nicola’s team (of lawyers). So, unless they’re going to sneak them on to X for giggles (I mean, it’s been known to happen), you’re probably never going to see them – and that’s assuming they even exist.

However, if you’re the housekeeper from our first adventure and you happen to have some candid photographs you’re just dying to share, just find yourself a printer – one that cannot easily be linked back to you – and print them out. Then, “accidently” drop them at the feet of someone who knows exactly what they are, and then give them enough time to take their own photos of them and send them to their best friend’s brother’s sister-in-law’s third cousin’s wife’s neighbor, who could drop them on X for us. I mean, you should be golden with seven degrees of separation.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only #just me being ridiculous

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marshmellohi · 4 months ago

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Links Meet AUs List

A lot of AUs get lumped together with Linked Universe, so I wanted to make a list comprising any and all original Links Meet AUs I could find! Please let me know if I’m missing something, you want your AU to be removed, a link is broken, or if you know an AU’s status so it can be moved to the correct dedicated category.

DISCLAIMER: Please pay attention to the content warnings on some of these AUs! I haven’t personally read every AU so I don’t know what some contain, but if an AU has something you don’t vibe with, there are more than plenty of others that you will love on this list! Please be respectful and kind to everyone! This list is both for archival purposes and to appreciate the creativity of the community!

Additional Notes: Some AUs have dedicated Tumblrs, some can be found through original tags, some are only on ff.net or ao3, etc. I have a separate list for AUs limited to Discord/DMs that I have not included here unless I receive permission to do so! Also, if something is separated by ||, that means that theyre 2(+) separate AUs by the same creator in the same tumblr… if that makes sense LOL. This list is Always Updating so be sure to keep an eye out for any new AUs!

PUBLIC

• A Link to the Present

• Across the Galaxy

• Ageless Soul

• Bonus Links

• Branching Timelines

• Chain as Cryptids

• Chained Spirits

• Chains of Time

• Courage of Ages

• Culture Shock

• Deuy’s Links Meet

• Dimensional Links

• Dreamverse AU || Identity Fraud AU

• Echoes of Courage

• Exodus

• Fallen Heroes

• Garden of Heroes

• GodLinks

• Hearts Linked Together

• Heroes Spirit

• House of Heroes

• Kings Comic

• Limited Hero

• Link and the Links || Soldier Poet King

• Link Between Links

• Link Rejoin

• Linked Across Dimensions

• Linked Arena

• Linked By Illustrations

• Linked Dreamscape

• Linked End

• Linked History

• Linked Keys

• Linked Maze

• Linked Spirit

• Linked Through the Centuries

• Linked Universe

• Linked World

• Link’s Fun Road Trip

• Little Links

• Magic’s Wake

• Meowmix’s Linked-verse Journey

• Minas Linkverse

• Monstrous Fusion

• Names of Courage

• Realms of Hylia

• Recalled

• Rifts in Time

• Sister’s Linked Meets

• Suncaster

• Tangled Chains [Lou]

• Team Timeless

• That Broken Promise

• The Hyrulian Valhalla Saga

• The Links We Share

• The Phantom Timeline

• The Sacred Realm

• Too Many Links [Zee]

• Train Whistles and Wedding Bells

• Unchained AU

• Winter Links AU

PRIVATE

AUs where the info is limited to Discord, DMs, and/or friends. Not typically published/shared publicly. Permission is asked to acknowledge these AUs here before posting.

• A Linked Week

• Fractured Timelines

NON-LINK BUT THEY STILL MEET

Crossovers with Zeldas, Ravios, Ganons… pretty much the exact same thing but with other characters.

• Lots of Ravios

• LU Ravioverse

• Strangers Across Eras

• Voice of Wisdom

• Wielders of Wisdom

LINKMEET LITE

Links meet, but it’s not the focus of the story/in the background (example: a world where all the links exist at the same time but the focus is on one specific character/the others dont come up much)

• Father of Time

• Royal Reads

INACTIVE/DEAD

An AU qualifies for the inactive category when: 1.) its been 2+ years since an update and 2.) it’s unfinished; or, 3.) the creator explicitly stated that they were discontinuing it. LMK if one still has a pulse!

• Into the Zeldaverse

• Link and the Links

• Linked By Time

• Linking Together

• Misfortunate Monsters

• Tangled Chains

• Zelda in the Multiverse

UNSURE/MIA

AUs where I am unsure of the status and thus need to contact the creator, the creator’s deciding where to go with it, or I can’t locate the original page. This is mostly for me- consider this kind of like a ‘to do’ list. Any insight is welcome!

• Bagel’s AU (N/C)

• Birdo’s AU (U)

• Cotty’s Linkverse (N/C)

• Chain Reaction AU (Nuked)

• Factorial’s AU (N/C)

• Fortu’s AU (N/C)

• Hyrule Bound (N/C ; Iirc there was a fanfiction but I can’t find it anywhere)

• Link Madness’ AU (N/C)

• Minty’s Linkverse (U)

• Missing Links in Time (U)

#legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #link meets #link meets au #tloz #tloz au #zelda au #legend of zelda au #link meets au list #jaymellos link meets list #link meets list

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bangtanficsforyou · 5 months ago

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Hello, Love (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, probable smut (we don't know yet lololol)

Rating: 18+

Summary: You had a plan when you returned home, seven years later. However, falling in love with your sister's fiance wasn't it.

Warning: mentions of drug addiction, familial neglect.

A/N: Based on a movie 😏📸. Also, here's a post explaining why I disappeared.

Playlist | Patreon

“So you’re getting married tomorrow, huh?” the rhetorical question slips from your mouth with a smile. A smile that in every way looks, forced.

You don’t know what you were thiniking. But a part of you, just wanted to have a conversation with your sister. Maybe you had hoped for it to be like one of those conversations. The kind that you’d see in movies, taking place between two sisters, when one is about to hit a big milestone.

Maybe a little reminscing about the old days. A little recallation of the past times when you both got into trouble. Joking about the embarassing moments. A little laughter, a few tears and hearts filled with warmth.

“Yes, I am,” your sister replies without bothering to look up.

You linger at the doorway for a moment and then realise how stupid you were.

You nod, knowing very well that this is pretty much the end of the conversation–if you could even call it that. You let the door shut quietly and slip out of the room.

Tomorrow, your sister is getting married. Your elder sister, to be more specific.

She is getting married to the man she loves, to the man she has been in a relationship with for seven years.

The man, who unfortunately happens to be the one you have fallen in love with, in the span of these last few weeks.

Oh how did you get into this mess and expect it to result into anything other than heartbreak?

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The loud music playing through the speakers tempts you to join the ongoing celebrations. You look at the joyful faces of your family members and a smile appears on your face. Lord knows when you will be seeing them next.

“Please take care of yourselves,” you whisper, knowing very well that you should leave as quickly as possible.

However, your gaze lingers on one person in particular. Your father. Oh, how you wish you could just hug him once before leaving. But that might not be a smart move. Your resolve might weaken on feeling his arms around you. No, you cannot afford that.

You take a deep inhale and turn away from the wedding celebrations. You march towards the exit gate with hurried steps. Your feet however, come to a halt when you spot one of your friends chatting with some guy near the gate. Shit. You turn away immediately and flee the spot before she can spot you.

Once you’re sure that there is no way for her to see you, you release a sigh of relief. You have no idea how you’d have explained the bags and luggage you’re currently carrying, had she seen you.

The thought of that makes you feel more urgency to leave this wedding venue. You look around frantically hoping that there would be some other gate. You do spot one, however, there stands your father’s uncle’s son’s son, who has seemingly found this to be the ideal smoking spot.

A few moments later, you come to the conclusion that there is indeed, only one way to escape this place. You need to climb over the wall.

You find a quiet place, away from the crowd, that has very dim lighting. You throw your bags over the wall and wait for the thud to confirm that your bags have landed on the other side. Then, you roll the sleeves of your shirt up and get ready for the difficult part; the climbing.

Thanks to your experience with tree climbing, you somehow successfully manage to climb the wall at your second attempt. However, it’s that wired fence that causes you more trouble than you would have ever imagined.

Somehow, it gets stuck to the back of your shirt in such an awkward position that you cannot even grab a hold of it properly. The only way for you to get your shirt unstuck would be to pull the piece of cloth hard enough. But then you cannot do that. It will tear your shirt and boy, where will you go and change now?

Slowly, very slowly, you move the shirt, hoping somehow, it would get freed from the wire.

Okay, so maybe a little this side–a little on the other–no, wait this is not–

“Are you leaving or are you arriving?”

A voice speaks, startling you to your very core. You look up and feel extremely relieved upon realising that this man happens to be someone who’s completely unknown to you.

“Well as of now, I’m stuck,” you trail off, hoping that the guy would catch the hint and help you.

Thankfully, he does.

He gathers a couple bricks that were laying around and tip toes on them for his hands to reach the wired fence. Despite not being able to see how the wire has gotten stuck in your shirt, his hand somehow still manages to do the job smoothly.

Once you’re free, you’re quick to get down. Dusting off your clothes, you pick your bags up. “Thank you, for helping me.”

“Considering that you got down on this side of the wall, I’m going to assume that you’re leaving.” He observes.

You look at him for a moment and then nod. “Yes, I am.”

“Do you need help with the bags?”

A smile appears on your lips at his words, as you think this guy is a little too nice for his own good. “Sure, that’d actually be helpful!”

Nodding he bends down to pick up the bags. He’s surprised when he realises how heavy your luggage actually is. “Damn, these are heavy.”

“I know,” you glance at your watch. “Let’s get going.”

It takes him a split second to process as you start walking immediately after the words are out of your mouth, without so much of a second glance at him. Your quick movements make him trail behind you, as you make your way through the playground which connects to the main road.

Having given up on catching up with you, he looks around and sees a bunch of kids playing football on one side of the ground. While the other side remains occupied with kids playing cricket. The scoreboard catches his attention as it reads “6 required from 3 balls”. That’s intense, he thinks.

His eyes remain fixed on the match as his feet continue to move. The bowler bowls and he watches with excitement as the batsman flicks it for a single. As the strike rotates, the scoreboard now changes to “5 required from 2 balls”.

The second last delivery of the match and much to his surprise, it’s a full toss. The ball connects right to the centre of the bat and goes straight in the air. His eyes follow the ball and he watches with a bated breath as he waits for it to be either a six or a four.

His jaw drops open, when the ball is caught–by you. You aim the ball straight at the stumps and before the runner can reach the crease, the ball hits the wickets, dismissing the bails.

“OUT!”

A unanimous shout breaks out, celebrating the wicket. The tension breaks as the match is now in favour of the defending side.

Suddenly, the bags aren’t as heavy as they were moments ago and he rushes to catch up with you. “That was such a cool throw.”

“Thanks,” you shoot him a smile.

“Do you play cricket?” He queries, his eyes shining bright with excitement.

“I once used to. Nowadays, I don’t really get the time to play.” You shrug. “I love watching cricket though.”

“Did you watch yesterday’s match?” His excitement heightens.

“No I didn’t, but I did watch the highlights.”

“You missed one of the greatest matches of all times,” he shakes his head, emphasising his point with a dreamy smile on his face.

“I just don’t like watching ODIs,” you comment. “I think cricket matches should be of twenty overs. Four hours and the match is done.”

“I mean sure, T20Is are good, they are explosive in nature,” he agrees. “But nothing beats the longer formats of cricket.”

“Well, i am yet to get the hang of them,” you muse. “Maybe someday, I will get the hang of ODIs.”

“Maybe a India VS Australia match would do it for you.”

“Oh! I live for the sledging in India-Australia matches.”

“But then, the real spirit of cricket is in test matches! Five long days for one match and yet the match might be a tie. It really does test a man’s patience,” he speaks, his hands moving animatedly with each word. “Maybe that’s why they are called test matches, you know?”

“Kudos to the players playing these matches, because I do not have the patience to watch a test match. Can’t imagine playing it.”

“You should try watching a good bilateral series sometime, I bet you’ll like it.”

“Oh, I have definitely tried watching test matches before and I remember in half an hour, the scoreboard changed from 243 to 245. That was pretty much it for me.”

Your words cause him to cackle. “Maybe someday, you’ll realise the beauty of test matches, who knows?”

“Maybe. Someday.”

A brief moment of silence falls between the both of you.

“Who’s your favourite player, right now?”

“Has to be Steve Smith!” You claim proudly, without a second thought.

“Dude has got a bright future in cricket, that’s for sure.”

“I love how smoothly he hits those shots. It’s a treat watching him,” you add, your admiration for the young player visible in your eyes.

He hums and lets the conversation die as you both approach the main road, which is from where he assumes you’re about to take some vehicle to continue the rest of your journey. His assumption is proved right when you start waving at a taxi approaching towards the both of you.

“Airport?” You ask and upon receiving a nod from the driver, you start loading your luggage in the car. Once everything is settled, you get in as well. Locking in the door, you wave at him and ask the driver to get going.

He watches as the taxi sets to motion with a small lingering smile on his face. He is about to turn around and leave when the car stops and you poke your head out of the window.

“You want to tag along?” You ask loudly to be heard through the newly made distance between the both of you.

He is bewildered on hearing your words. “But the wedding---,” he points in the direction where the wedding ceremony is being performed, instead of completing his sentence.

“Are you the one who's getting married?” You answer with another question.

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes wide with confusion. How on earth are you saying this so casually?

“Then come along.”

He cannot see the whole of your body as only a portion of it remains poking out of the window and he has only known you for a very brief moment, but for some unknown reason he feels so sure that you must have shrugged as you said those words. And for some odd reason, with how casually you’re treating the situation, he feels the oddness of the situation fade.

“I cannot just leave the wedding like that,” he replies.

“Okay, then. Have fun.”

You do not sound disappointed at all. You sound just as casual, he thinks.

“Have a safe journey,” he yells, as you retreat back inside the car.

A faint, i will, thank you, greet his ears and he shakes his head to himself. You are something, he thinks with that same smile as he heads back to the wedding.

“Dude, I met a 8.5 outside!” He tells his friend the moment he’s within earshot.

His friend doesn’t look at him as his gaze remains fixed somewhere else. “Forget about an 8.5. Look there, there’s a literal 10 right in front of your eyes.”

He follows his friend’s gaze and it leads him to one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, in his entire life. A ten indeed.

“Wow.” The breathless one word sentence escapes his lips without his permission.

His friend smirks at the reaction. “She’s the bride’s sister. She’s a model but is soon going to feature in some short films.”

The words barely register in his head as the girl locks eyes with him. Maybe he wasn’t discreet with his gawking, after all. What absolutely leaves him speechless, however, is when the girl gives him a shy smile.

The interaction isn’t missed by his friend as he whistles slowly, before murmuring, “Here’s to hoping you’re smart enough to understand what that smile means.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook smut #Jungkook au #Jungkook ff #Jungkook scenarios #Jungkook series #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook bts #Angst #Fluff #Smut #Fic: hey

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apompkwrites · 6 months ago

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the school-bound kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: Mwezi Miji Trio (OCs), Leona, Ruggie (platonic) genre: Angst contains: (Brief) Swearing, Possible OOC moments (depending on how you view Leona and Ruggie [mainly Leona]) summary: Following the admittance of Night Raven College's newest freshmen, both Kingscholars begin to come to terms with the newest changes in their lives. notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING AGAIN OTZ. Unfortunately, my lapses of writer's block and demotivation have only increased since I last posted. I'm trying to get back into the hang of posting things (as evident by my art account suddenly coming alive again). ALSO! As you can tell by the formatting, I'm actually writing with proper grammar on Tumblr now! Right now, I don't plan to go back to reformat the older chapters, but maybe once I find the drive to do it, I will! Thank you, everyone, for being so patient with me, I really appreciate it <3 parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

Leona felt something knock the air out of his lungs. To Ruggie, who stood right beside him in a robe that was a few inches too long, it was hilarious. Seeing the very prince (well, second prince) of the Afterglow Savanna lose his composure was enough to make Ruggie let out a quiet "Shyeheehee" under his breath before he ultimately straightened his posture under Leona's pointed glare.

Nothing could have prepared Leona to see (Name) again. Honestly, he had long since come to terms with the fact that his little sibling was missing, lost to the Outlands and likely a rotting corpse in the middle of nowhere.

He's lying, he could never come to terms with that, no matter how much he deluded himself.

But they were here. They were here and they were walking closer and they looked exactly the same as he remembered them.

Well, obviously, not exactly. But they looked so familiar and yet so different at the same time. Leona didn't even notice the tip of his tail swishing behind him until he heard one of his dorm members complaining about a tickling sensation against his ankles. And that only caused Leona to grumble under his breath and snatch the base of his tail to stop it from moving.

By the Seven, had they changed. They seemed bolder and more confident compared to the last time he had seen them. The way their shoulders were no longer hunched forward and instead rolled back in a pride strut he wished he could attribute to someone who had come to accept their own status or the way their eyes seemed sharper rather than soft and wide with innocence. And their hands. By the gods, what happened to their hands...? No, they had changed severely, akin to the way Leona recalled seeing the royal guards before and after their training.

Something had happened, that much he could figure out. And as much as he wanted to advance the board, reach out, and capture them like a king in a game of chess, he couldn't. Not when they were surrounded by a queen and two rooks.

"Ignore him," Nuru advised, although his words were more of a formality if anything. He knew how well you could handle yourself, but this was a unique situation.

"I know," you replied curtly, flipping your hood back on and sidling up to Nuru's right side. Jabori immediately flanked your other side in turn, followed by Jabali. It was a familiar formation, one that the four of you had cultivated for as long as you could remember.

"It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would," you whisper. However, the sharp pain lingering in your chest said otherwise.

Student after student soon began trickling out of each coffin, repeating the painstaking process of standing in front of the mirror, listening to its spiel about their innermost workings, before joining whatever dorm they were assigned to. Until finally, finally--

"We're done with orientation and dorm assignments?" One of the hooded figures lamented, his hand perched prim and properly on his hip. If you didn't any better, you'd assume that he was royalty or nobility. But, judging from his scent alone, he wasn't.

"Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever," Leona yawned, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he turned on his heels, facing the mass of hooded figures now under his care. "I'm going back to the dorm. If you're in Savanaclaw House, follow me."

He went to take a step amidst the other chattering dorm leaders before the doors slammed open, the handles banging against the wall from the force at which it swung. Leona groaned in response, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Psst, Nuru," Jabali called from his spot beside Jabori, leaning forward to actually see him. "Are you sure this is the right place? We're actually supposed to find answers from..."

Jabali paused and motioned out towards the commotion now terrorizing the mirror chamber. The little gray cat scampered around the floor, setting fire to whatever he could in some strange show of physical prowess and magical ability. "...These people?!"

Nuru said nothing at first. From where you stood beside him, you could tell doubt was beginning to creep up behind him. Lucky for him, Jabori decided to take the lead.

"This is Night Raven College," he points out, pulling back the hood of his robe by a hair to peer over at his twin. "Pretty much everyone here, especially the dorm leaders, are adept at some kind of magic. I mean, look."

This time, Jabori pointed towards the commotion, his finger following the way that the redhead shot a spell in the cat's direction, materializing a red and black collar around its neck.

"It's the best shot we have," he concludes, nodding in support of Nuru. That single gesture instantly calmed Nuru down, his shoulders no longer hunched up and his wings relaxing behind him. You merely smiled and patted his forearm in response. Jabali, on the other hand, grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms in begrudging compliance.

"Fine. But I'm not gonna get along with 'em or nothin'," Jabali huffed, rolling his eyes. Jabori laughed lightly at his brother's annoyance while Nuru let out a single huff of air.

"I wasn't gonna ask you too, either," Nuru hummed, glancing at Jabali from his peripheral. "Same goes for both of you, (Name), Jabori."

"Copy that," you nodded, the quiet chuckle that seemed to bubble from your throat disappearing the second Leona turned to face you and the rest of the new Savanaclaw members.

"You heard the headmage. I'm headin' back," Leona grumbled and, without missing a beat, brushed past the crowd and headed towards the door. Another hooded figure, one who had been standing beside Leona the entire ceremony, let out an exasperated sigh before raising his hand.

"Savanaclaw! Follow me," he ordered, earning a few half-hearted "Yes, sir"s from the rest of the huddled crowd.

You had to admit, it was pretty entertaining watching Jabali and Jabori marvel at the size of the campus halls. And Nuru too, if only he'd have more obvious reactions rather than just a single flick of a wing or a tilt of the head.

While the halls were nothing compared to the Kingscholar home, it was still pretty big. If you were any smaller than you were now, you'd probably react the same way.

"No way they need these doors to be this big," Jabali murmured, lightly elbowing your arm and pointing at one of the classroom doors. Your eyes followed his finger and a snicker managed to escape you. He wasn't wrong, those doors were freakishly huge, both in height and width.

Jabali went to comment on something else before he stopped, his eyes drifting over toward the new mirror chamber everyone had been led to. The doors were held open to accommodate the crowd, letting handfuls of students walk towards a mirror and get sucked into it, the glass rippling as if took wisps of bodies and left nothing in its wake.

"Savanaclaw House! This'll be your only way in and out of the dorm," the same hooded figure that led you all here called out. He had hopped up onto the lip of the mirror's decoration, using one of the rib-like sculptures as an armrest.

"Hurry up and get in! The faster you do, the faster you'll get to claim your rooms," he snickered before skipping ahead of the first dorm member and hopping into the mirror.

The prospect of first come first served seemed to spur on the first years, causing a near stampede of people trying to get into the mirror first. Nuru hooked an arm around your waist while Jabali did the same with Jabori, the two of them finding a single break in the crowd to get away, Nuru through flight, and Jabali through scaling one of the pillars by the wall.

Lucky for the four of you, the mirror seemed to accommodate more and more people as the crowd diminished. Perhaps through how many bodies reached a specific threshold, you thought. Regardless of the magical mechanics, it allowed Nuru and Jabali to let you and Jabori down after a few minutes.

"So many people," you grumbled under your breath, earning a quiet chuckle from Jabori. Nuru and Jabali nodded at your observation before the four of you hopped into the mirror yourselves.

Immediately, the four of you felt the familiar searing heat of the sun beating down on your skin. It almost felt like home if not for the increased heat coming from the fire serving as lights just outside the dorm's entrance.

Jabali and Nuru were the first to shrug off their robes, the former because he finally had enough of the stuffy fabric, and the latter because the heat was already starting to congregate around his feathers. You and Jabori followed suit, although the two of you merely hiked up your sleeves and flipped down your hoods.

Nuru shook out his wings and let out a soft grunt, one of his feathers falling into the sand beneath your feet. Turning to look over his shoulder, he shot the three of you a soft, almost comforting smile.

"Off we go, then," he hums, waving for you all to follow. If it were anyone else, you three probably would've found offense to a command as expectant as that. But it wasn't just anyone else. It was Nuru, the Guardian, and your dear friend.

The inside of Savanclaw was nothing really to marvel at like the rest of the school's campus. It wasn't cramped, per se, but it was quite a bit more tight than to your liking. Luckily, the walkway opened up the building quite a bit with the roped bridges connecting each floor.

Nuru scanned the room for a moment before his eyes landed on a room on the top floor, tucked all the way in the furthest corner. You figured everyone else left it since it was so far and their mentalities were focusing on that first come first served promise your leader from before declared.

Nuru unfurled his wings and shot up past the bridges, making a beeline towards the unoccupied room. He didn't have to go that fast, of course, considering only a few students were lingering in the walkways who sure as hell weren't planning on making the long walk up there.

Jabali seemed to share their sentiment considering his frustrated "Damn it, Nuru" muttered under his breath. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips before he trudged up along the nearest bridge, his hands shoved in his pockets and his robe slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

You and Jabori took a more relaxed walk up behind him, appreciating the familiar decorations that reminded you of your hometown. Of course, that appreciation turned into apprehension at the thought of Mwezi Miji now being unguarded by the main four.

What if something happened? What if they had sent word of an all-out war between themselves and the Dens and you hadn't heard of it since you all were knocked out in coffins? What if they were all already--

"On your right," Nuru called to you from the doorway, his hand shooting out to grab your shoulder. Ah, you had gotten distracted. Nuru shot you a concerned glance, his brows furrowed in the same way they always were when you got stuck in your head before he ushered you into the room.

Jabali and Jabori had already claimed their beds on the left side of the room, Jabali near the door and Jabori near the window. This left the entire right side open for you and Nuru.

The winged beastman glanced over at you, patiently waiting for your next move. You caught his glance and mustered up a small smile before heading towards the bed closest to the door. Nuru subtly lit up at your decision, a little skip in his step as he moved towards the window.

You managed to hold back a snort at his hidden excitement. He always loved the window spot. Maybe it reminded him of when he was small enough to fit through them back home.

"So, what's up with you and that new first year, huh?" Ruggie huffed as he walked straight into Leona's room, leaning down to pick up a discarded shirt and dropping it in the laundry basket. "I've never seen you react that way other than with them."

"Watch your words, Ruggie," Leona growls from the bed, his head already buried in his pillow. His back was facing Ruggie who still stood in the doorway, but with the way his ears were perked up, it was fairly obvious that he wasn't even close to sleeping.

"My bad," Ruggie snicked in response, holding up his hands defensively. "But, seriously, who was that? Someone I need to watch the pockets of? I mean, who else would it be if not roy--"

"Out," Leona demanded, his hand latching onto his pillow and launching it backward at Ruggie, the soft fabric turning into dust and scattering across the floor as he muttered the incantation under his breath. Ruggie yelped and scampered out of the room, throwing the door closed behind him before he could see the pillow disintegrate into sand.

Leona took a single breath through his nose before slowly sitting up. He rubbed at his face before reaching over to the desk placed beside his bed, his fingers curling around the drawer's handle and pulling it open.

Underneath notebooks thrown carelessly inside lay a single photograph. It was small, yet free of any creases. He lifted the books off of it before slipping the photo out, nearly cradling it in his palm.

Back when he first found the photo tucked neatly in one of his notebooks, he grimaced. It was an annoying keepsake, one that only served to remind him of the bothersome family waiting for him back home. But now...

Now the sight of his little sibling smiling ever so brightly while his older brother screamed in the background about a bug in his hair brought the smallest twitch of a smile to his lips.

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gummilutt · 10 months ago

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250 followers Custom Memory Bonanza

It's finally time! To thank all you lovely people for your support, I have been working hard to get this ready for upload and here we are. Today I am sharing my custom memory object, and my library of a whopping 201 custom memories. Based on the wonderful Tattered Diary by DiLight over on MTS, and the tutorial she shared of how to make your own custom memories.

I've always cared a lot about memories, to me they tell the story of the Sims life. Some of you from MTS may recall when I did the whole several year rebuild of my hood, replicating every last detail of the original. I'm memory crazy, okay? And when DiLight gave me the power to make my own, I may have gone a tad overboard. Or just the right amount, you get to decide :P DiLight taught me most of what I know about making custom memories, and the base BHAVs are from her, but as I've learned more I've added some bells and whistles that I hope you will enjoy. It's a new clone and separate GUID from the original tutorial object set up by DiLight, so if you have your own you can have mine too without issues :) Found in misc/misc, costs 1 simoleon.

Download on simfileshare

Features - Brand new form, created by me. Resized BV photo album with new mapping and new texture (seen above, in game pictures at the end of this post). I wanted something that was uniquely mine, and that you don't necessarily have to hide away in the attic or under the foundation. If you don't like it, you also have some additional model forms you can switch between through the pie menu. - Adaptable dynamic menu. Thanks to a really neat trick from @picknmixsims the menu reflects the memories you put in your downloads. If no file with the correct guid is found, the option for it won't show. Which means that although I am crazy enough to have 201, you can go ahead and only pick your favorite ones and the object will automatically detect and adapt the menu to that selection. - Memories all have a custom icon, that's made from game icons from TS2 or TS3. Some I am quite proud of, some are admittedly not great. Not everything is easy to convey through game icons, but I've tried my best, I hope the effort shows. 5 memories have icons that are not from the game, but I tried to match them to the aesthetic as best I could. - Memory subject menu shows only relevant age groups. For example, if the memory is about having a baby, only baby/toddler Sims will show as options. Goal being to keep menu as concise as possible. If you wish to assign memories retroactively, please see jonasn's excellent Memory Commander object, which has support to add my custom memories without age limitations. As well as a whole lot of other useful memory-related stuff. - Extensive documentation detailing everything you may need to know about the memories (text, icon, background, who can get it, who they can get it about, repeatability, where to find it on the object) to help you select the ones you want for your game, and familiarize yourself with them. - English and Swedish translations of memories, and object menu. If someone wants to add their language, that would be great but it's a lot of work so I don't expect it. You are welcome to share your translated versions directly if you wish, or you can send them to me for me to update files shared here :) If you want to learn how to translate the files directly, Episims has a great tutorial found here.

Examples of types of custom memories included - Extended family members memories (got cousin, got aunt/uncle, got sibling, got twin sibling, got great grandchild, got stepparent, got stepchild) - Birth related memories (pregnancy, becoming parent, late in life parent, had multiples birth, premature baby) - Marriage related memories (divorce, parental divorce, custody things, alimony) - Relationship related memories (fighting, breakups, additional love memories) - Woohoo related (memories for specific woohoo locations, repeatable generic woohoo/public woohoo) - University degree related (declared major memories, got a minor degree memories, got a major degree memories, for remembering having studied multiple things and being able to see what major your Sim chose without looking at their diploma) - Loan related, for remembering taking and paying off loans of different types - Moving memories (first apartment, child moves out, various memories for sims moving in with others) - Kids related (child's first day in school, got their own pet, nursery rhyme, giving up for adoption, living at orphanage)

Mods automating delivery of my CC memories (more to come) Learned nursery rhyme from - Found here, by me Wrote restaurant guide - Found here, part of jonasn "Novel Writing Improvements" mod

Credits: DiLight, @picknmixsims, @morepopcorn, @latmosims, @joplayingthesims, maxon, @keoni-chan. For detailed info on how they all impacted the creation of this, see readme :) Policy: Give credit to DiLight, beyond that, totally open. Enjoy!

#gummiluttmods #ts2 mods #ts2 gameplay #ts2 cc #ts2 custom memories #gummi memories

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poetryvampire · 6 months ago

Text

The Song of Rolan

Dingdong! Horny Rolan posting hours again. I started writing head canons for how vocal our lovely wizard can get. It got a bit long so I turned it in a little fic. Also sorry for the name im a lit nerd

Words: 2,705

Rating: Explicit

Rolan x AFAB! Reader

Prompt: Rolan's voice drives you crazy. But he has a terrible habit of stifling all his pretty little noises in bed. You help him fix that.

Tags: teasing, pointy ear play, a touch of edging, dry humping, sloppy oral, p and v sex, bit of overstimulation, creampie, riding that tiefling straight to hell and back

It was an understatement to say you were proud of Rolan. He was an accomplished wizard, loving brother and - in your opinion-the perfect partner. One that you could see yourself spending the rest of your days with. That's not to say he didn't get on your nerves. Not only with his grumpy tendencies but more so with his habit of over working. You adored his passion and drive to further his studies but it had led to more and more long lonely nights. Either from him traveling with colleagues or the tiefling locking himself in his study to work on a multitude of projects until morning light.

He had returned home only yesterday having spent almost two full weeks away and yet he still seems dead set to spend all evening pouring over his notes. The Wizard's focus was getting worse by the day. Not that he hadn't been overjoyed to see you. He had practically knocked you off your feet with the intensity of his hug when he came striding through the door. You had spent hours locked in each other's arms in your large shared bed. Steadily he moved between tales of his journey and peppering your skin with feverish kisses.

Rolan had taken you greedily. Frantic, practically tripping over himself trying to touch all of you at once. He couldn't quite find a voice for his needs but you swayed to him happily, matching his clumsy passion. There was plenty of the time to truly savor each other. But still your patience was running thin.

Somehow you had once again found yourself in an empty bedroom starving for your partner. Last night had been a sweet reunion but it did little to quell the fire Rolan lad lit in you while he was away. He had only been gone a few days when a letter arrived that left you breathless. Deciding to skip over the details of his journey he focused instead on his longing for you.

'What little beauty there is to be had here is dwarfed a thousand times by the thought of you. I dream of you always. Of being wrapped in your divine cunt. Of feeling it pulse against my tongue. Gods, I am your slave. Use me only for your pleasure. Let me worship you, my heart.'

His words rang in your head even now, pooling that familiar heat down below. How you wanted him. Wanted to hear such words from his own lips. From the moment you met you’d been in love with the deep rumble of his voice. Nothing gave you such satisfaction as pulling music from Rolan’s lips as you made love. It wasn't easy. Even still he had trouble fully letting himself go. Often he would stifle his words and moans to your great dismay. You recall gazing up at him as you ran your tongue over his length to find his hand clamped tightly over his mouth muffling his cries. A senseless action as you two had been the only people home at the time.

Swiftly you move to your wardrobe every drop of patience spent. You need him; to wring every moan, grunt and whimper out of that man or it would kill you. He deserves to relish in and express his pleasure freely. Perhaps he just needs a little push.

Much to your relief the tower was empty by this hour. You moved lightly through the halls wearing nothing but a sheer purple dressing gown.

You tap your knuckles against the hard oak door as you enter his study. He was exactly as you had pictured him, four open books across his desk and him writing furiously.

"Beloved!" He half glances at you as he takes a quick slip from his wine glass. "Now don't worry," he continues flipping pages. "I hadn't forgotten about you. This was intended to be a short little report but I just keep finding revisions that seem a shame not to add."

Going above and beyond as always. You can't help but smile as you watch him, those tantalizing eyes darting from paper to paper. Just the sight of him makes the warmth of excitement flare in you. You feel your nipples hardening against the thin fabric you wore. He's dressed down; the lacing on his ruffled white shirt undone to his mid chest and sleeves pushed up past the elbow. Such a small glimpse of extra skin makes your heart race. Hopefully you can rise the same reaction.

"You have such a way with words it would be rude not to." You purr, moving to his side.

"I'll be done soon, truly." He can hear the need in your voice. "Then I'm all yours."

You hum amused as you lift his glass to take a deep drink.

"You sound like you don't believe me." Rolan's hand passes through the space once hosting his glass. "Have I ever let you down in the-"

His eyes finally snap to you and his words catch sharply in his throat, blood rushing to his face. You laugh, finishing the glass.

" What's the matter, my love? You're usually so generous with your words."

"I- I-you," He stammers.

"I seem to remember such generosity in a letter you wrote."

You undo the gown. His eyes fix on you as you let it fall to the floor. As many times as he's seen it the sight of you in your full glory drives him wild.

"Do you remember that letter?"

"Oh, of course." His voice is barely a whisper, his body tense as if ready to pounce on you.

To his surprise you straddle him and his hands fly to your hips drawing you closer. Both of you groan into a deep kiss as you grind yourself down against the quickly growing tent in his trousers.

"Do you want to please me?" You growl half into his mouth.

"More than anything." He gasps between kisses.

You pull away, placing a finger over his lips. His beaming cheeks and pleading eyes stoke your maddening hunger for him.

"Then let me please you. I need to feel it and hear it. Let me drown in you, Rolan."

"Gods above," He groans.

You can see he's already holding back. But you would have to help him along by targeting his weak points. You start with his neck, ghosting your lips over him, letting the tension build. Your hot breath sends a shiver down his spine as he grasps your thighs trying to push you on.

At last you press your lips to his skin earning a soft hiss. You try to go slow but make your need apparent with the ferocity of your mouth. A deep sigh escapes him as you attack his jawline, sucking and teasing as you go. Rolan bucks his hips suddenly, huffing. He's too shy to ask but he's dying for you to touch his ears.

A quick bite to the lobe earns another sharp gasp. You laugh knitting your fingers through his hair- Gods his sounds make your heart flutter.

"Oh? Did you like that, my love?" You coo into his neck. There's words on his lips but they melt away as your tongue slowly traces the shell of his ear right to the tip. "Hhm? What was that? Are you unsure? But you're usually so strong in your convictions." You repeat the action making him squirm underneath you. You grind down on his bulge creating a delicious friction. "However can I know you're enjoying yourself if you don't tell me?"

"It's good." He chokes out at last, meeting the movements of your eager hips.

"What is? We can't all be scholars you know." You draw away from him slightly. "What do you want?"

He laughs as a devilish grin spreads across his parted lips.

"Everything. You're so, you're so- " his words falter. He still feels your breath on him but the lack of contact makes it clear you're waiting. It's only in times like this when Rolan has difficulty summoning words.

"I've never heard of a wizard so speechless." You goad him and start to move away. "Must want to get back to his dusty old books rather than-"

"No!" He cries, locking his arms around you keeping you in place. "Your mouth- your tongue feels so fucking good I can't stand it."

You lick a strip down his neck while bringing your hands to the sides of his head, making sure to brush your fingers across the points of his ears, pulling a low shudder from him.

"There's the man that wrote me such an inspiring letter. That made me plunge my fingers in myself and dream of his cock."

He swears through his teeth, his eyes sparkling with desire.

"And where do you want my mouth?" You continue practically able to feel the heat flash across his face. Your tongue slides across his clavicle and then moves lower to lap at the ridges on his chest. "Here, then?"

'No,' he breathes.

You swear you can feel him twitch in his pants. Moving your mouth lower you open his shirt completely and do away with it. You stop at the sharp ridge above his stomach.

"Oh, here?"

He shakes his head, face now blazing hot. Pained whines fall from him as your mouth climbs back up the path of his chest. It isn't until you graze his Adam's apple that he breaks.

"My cock! Fuck I need your mouth on my cock. I need it now, please." He pleads like his life is at stake.

Instantly you're on the floor in front of him pushing his legs apart. You let out a moan yourself once you've sprung him free. You admire just how heavy he is in your hands and run your fingers over the ridges you wish were currently pounding into you.

With a throaty gasp a few drops of precum spill from his head just as you flick your tongue over it. You don't make him wait long before you take him into your mouth.

His moans ring through the room; the music you've been dying to hear. You waste no time taking him apart. Your mouth runs up and down his full length as you hollow your cheeks. With a loud pop you release him, a string of saliva still connecting you.

Rolan stairs transfixed, his exquisitely carved chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Like this?"

"Yes! Love, it's perfect. Keep sucking, just like that."

Before the words are past his lips you've swallowed him down again, your eyes never leaving his. Now comes your turn to rid the fears that hold you back. As you bob your head you make no mind of the symphony of wet, lewd noises filling the air.

The obscene display tears a guttural groan from him. Unable to hold off any longer move you press a hand to your wetness as you relish taking him like this. The feel, the sound, the smell. It was quite literally making your mouth water. You switch to running your tongue from base to tip stopping only to tease him with a few quick flicks at his head. Drunk on lust at the sounds of his grunts and murmurs you dip your fingers into your dripping hole.

"Nine hells." He shakes out, breathing hard. "Tell me, what have I done to deserve such adoration?”

Rolan’s eye then focuses on your hands. One pleasuring yourself and the other roaming your own body. You throw your head back with a soft sigh, his unyielding gaze intensifying your pleasure.

"What a wanton little thing you are." Rolan licks his lips in awe.

You protest for a moment as he snatches your hand away from your sex but hum in approval as he licks them clean.

"You sweet thing.”He coos after slowly releasing your digits. “Let me take care of that."

The swift flourish of magic swirls pass and you scream as you find yourself tumbling back on the plush blankets of your bed. Somehow it still catches you off guard.

Rolan has your legs pushed apart in seconds, taking a moment to breathe you in before going to work. Gently pulling your folds open his expert fingers, his tongue ravished you with the same pace you had set. In moments he had your hips shaking involuntarily. Each painfully sweet lash on your clit making you chant his name.

Yet you still weren't sated in your need to watch your lover twist in ecstasy. Taking him by the horns you pull his mouth to yours, lapping at his lips to savor the taste of your sex.

"How can I be of service?" Rolan purrs, a wicked smile forming.

"Lay back.”

He complies and you straddle his hips once more. You drag your core against his agonizingly hard cock. Now you were free to delight in the bumps and ridges you so adored. Your slick coats you both allowing you to slide over him with ease.

Rolan tries to caress you but you pull his hands away and pin them to the bed making him shudder.

"No, love. Leave them here." You roll your hips slowly bearing down, pushing a sharp whimper from his throat. "You just focus on this." Another roll, another whine. As you move your hands away he digs his claws into the sheets to obey. His eyes rake over you, especially as your speed increases. The sight of your breasts bouncing never failed to make him feral with lust.

Quickly the last of his composure is slipping away as you grind over him. His hair framing his face wildly, his body trembling with effort not to take control and plunge into you. He howls when his tip catches on your entrance.

"Oh is this what you want now? What a greedy thing you are." You tease.

"Please, mercy." he rasps out as you lower yourself ever so slightly only to pull away. “Give it to me, please! Love, I need you.”

“How do you need me?” you wiggle your hips, toying with him.

“I need to be inside.” He breathes, his frustration palpable as his tail snaps against the mattress.

With unsteady thighs you sink enough to just take in his tip before slowly drawing back.

“Fuck, I need you.” Rolan cries, his voice breaking “I need to stretch that perfect tight little cunt. To feel it cum all over my cock. Gods, please fuck me!”

Unable to hold back any longer your body obeys and you take all of him at once. The sudden action rips a howl from you both. The slight pain and overwhelming pleasure of being so full does little to slow you down and you continue your animalistic pace.

The song spilling from Rolan’s lips has you intoxicated utterly. It’s a lurid rumble of repeating ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘fuck me’ and words in his own native tongue. You ride his cock with all you have drinking in the sight of him. His claws deep in the mattress now, he’s writhing and wailing below you.

Finally you pull his hands to your hips and his body jumps to match your rhythm. He’s practically sobbing now, eyes swimming with rapture and concentration as he drives himself into you. A spike of heat pulls at your core and with another desperate thrust you come undone, clenching uncontrollably around him. Another wave of unbearable pleasure hits you as your lover pulses and spills his hot load inside of you. He rides it out, ending his flurry of moans with a few deep ragged breaths.

Rolan catches you in his arms before you even realize you’ve started to fall forward and presses you to his chest. You languish there enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I don’t deserve you.” he says, tangling his fingers in your hair.

“You’re so dramatic” you sigh “I’ve just missed you. A lot.”

“Well, with a greeting like that I have half a mind to leave you more often.” he smirks.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Rolan kisses the top of your head, holding you tightly to him until you both fall into slumber.

Thanks for reading!

Much love <3

#this losers gonna end me #Rolan #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #rolan x reader #fics #rolan x tav #smut #rolan smut #scream #ride that wizard #teiflings

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parvulous-writings · 8 months ago

Note

Could I request headcanons for Wyll, Rolan, and Zevlor react to being stuck in close proximity with gn crush?

Warnings: None!

Notes: These may be a little short/uneven, but these were so cute to write!! Anon, you've become such a prominent asker, that I'd love to give you a nickname of some sort, if you're comfortable with that! <3 My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Wyll

Wyll is a gentleman about the whole situation - or at least he tries to be. He gives you as much space as he is able to, even though he's squishing himself into a corner, he's more than happy to do that so that you're comfortable.

He tries to keep up conversation with you, to try and distract from the somewhat uncomfortable situation; mostly mundane questions, like 'What's your favourite...' or 'Have you ever...' It's also partly to distract you from the fact that his cheeks are burning hotter than the hells. Who'd have thought it'd be easy to fluster the Blade of Frontiers, even if it were only slightly, by being so near to him?

He cannot take his eyes off of you. Not even for a moment. He tries, at first, but finds it astronomically difficult, and eventually just gives in. He loves gazing at you - your presence brings him such peace, even in such a compromising position such as this.

Once the two of you are found/make your way out of the confined space, Wyll apologises - even though it was not his fault - and offers to make it up to you at some point, by however you see fit.

Rolan

Rolan is entirely speechless. He cannot find the words to say anything to you, not even a half-handed snappy quip. His eyes rarely meet yours, and are rather more often aimed off to the side, or somewhere above your heads. It's... Quite awkward.

You try anything to break the silence between the two of you; "Can you move your leg, please, Rolan?" Followed by a quiet shuffle as Rolan tries to move a little bit further from you but still remain comfortable. It is of little use on either front, but he tries. Any question of "how are you feeling?" Or "You okay?" is met with either complete silence, or a quiet grunt of acknowledgement.

Rolan doesn't know what to do, he's never been in a situation like this before - much less a situation where he can't find the words to express himself. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, harder than he can recall it ever being in his life. He's entirely tense, and he has no idea what to do; his normal confident facade has completely crumbled away, leaving little besides anxiety, and a slightly fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever you speak.

The first chance he gets after the pair of you can separate, he all but disappears from view - for several hours. You had wanted to talk to him about it, but couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually you do find him, but as soon as you bring up the situation, he turns his gaze from you; "I... Would rather not dwell on the situation... If it's all the same to you." He's just too flustered still to be able to process any of it.

Zevlor

Zevlor is constantly asking how you're feeling. "Are you sure you're well?" followed a few minutes later with, "Is there anything you need? ... Yes, I am aware I can't go and get anything, but I'm sure you understand the sentiment..."

He constantly asks you if you're alright, comfortable, etc. Neither of you know how long you're going to be stuck in this situation, so is completely understanding of the constant need to shuffle to keep your limbs from going dead. This being said, he'll always tell you if he's going to try and move himself, just so that he can try not to kick you, and you can brace yourself just in case of this outcome.

He tells you of his time in Elturel before it's descent into Avernus, his time as a Hellrider, all sorts. He finds it very easy to share things with you, since he's so sweet on you - it would usually take some probing for anyone to get that kind of information out of him. But, since he would like to establish more of a relationship with you, he's willing to part with some of it.

Once the two of you are out in the open again, Zevlor double checks that you're okay. "I would have hoped to have had some of those conversations in a more... Traditional way. But, I suppose, one cannot deny the deft hands of fate, hm?"

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sozila · 5 months ago

Text

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: attempted sexual assault, violence and blood. explicit content eventually, mdni. mentions of underage drinking and smoking (weed), descriptive sexual activities.

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: incubation. (part two) a/n:

guys.. i am so drained from this one 😭🙏 but i loved writing every bit of it, so i hope you like it! :) wc is triple from the last chapter (6.2k) :0 was posted on ao3 last night but finally got to doing this today <3 also, this chapter has a bit of a side quest with geto 🤭 also also, let me know if you want mini scenes, like what sukuna thought of your outfit at the party, etc ;)

ao3 link here.

incubation. (part two)

it’s been a week since you hung out at yuuji's swanky apartment and the older itadori was a memory of the past. your stressful college regimen waited for no one, especially you.

lectures piled on you once more and material you had to review flowed like an endless river.

you sat at your tiny desk in the bedroom of your quaint flat, deep in focus on a chapter of biology. “.. and that is how you do the cycle!” you mutter to yourself in small victory. you had finished the last page so you stand up and let out a big stretch. you decide to glance at the time on your watch only to realize you should’ve left your place 10 minutes ago for lunch with your friends.

you mentally curse as you haphazardly gather your things. you toddle on one leg and the other to pull up your socks, and obviously you had to mess up tying your shoes when you were already egregiously late. the universe’s timing never failed! you call an uber to the campus as the subway by your house has long left before.

when you finally find the group, they look at you with confused stares.

“is there a marathon i’m not aware of..?” nobara inquires sarcastically, yet weirdly concerned at the way you were heaving for air.

“haah — what do you, you mean? i’m not.. marathon,” you were making some sort of gestures with your hands and your words barely made sense. good lord, girl.

nobara pulls you down to sit in the chair beside her and motions for megumi to hand over his water bottle. “oookay, that’s enough out of you for now. breathe and drink some water, babe. we already got your food, so don’t sweat.”

as your heart rate began to slow, you finally noticed yuuji was actually laughing at you.

“oh my god, you looked like a little red pufferfish!”

you pout at him and let out a whine of disapproval (at least as much as you could with water in your mouth) when you saw megumi making blowfish faces at you. nobara swats at them and chides them accordingly. “take pity on our poor girl, she ran for us!”

suddenly, nobara snaps her fingers and points at yuuji, as if she just recalled something. “ah! yuu, can you finish what you were saying before we got interrupted? about the frat party this weekend? ” nobara looked positively giddy at the chance of getting wasted and you sighed. who knew you’d acquire such friends being the anti-big-sweaty-parties person you were. yuuji immediately flipped modes and began as he does, animated and hyper. you didn’t know how he possessed so much energy. part of you believed he stole that energy from megumi, who looked like every college student ever. “oh yeah! so sukuna…”

you didn’t realize you were zoned out of the conversation until your eyes catch your biology professor, mina kaito, strut by with a small box in her hand. your professor was notoriously hard to get ahold of— every office hours you tried to bring up your internship application, there was already a line of students following out the office. your university was prestigious and to land a one-on-one with any professor here was a miracle. you knew you were one of the best candidates for professor kaito’s research and had to secure this spot— even if it mean embarrassing yourself just a tad. you immediately jump up. “wha— girl, you just got here?” nobara looked at you, puzzled. “no time to explain- kaito’s here. i’ll be only 5 minutes!” you yell to her as you speedwalk to catch up with the nimble lady.

“professor kaito!” you call after her with a small wave, and the woman whips around with a disinterested air about her face.

“you have 2 minutes, it’s my lunch break.” she quips, resuming her walk down the hall. you take a couple strides to catch up to her and give her a small smile. “so, i wanted to inquire about the molecular biology research you’re doing…”

a small squeal leaves your mouth as soon as you exit the office. kaito had accepted your pitch to intern her research on your subject of interest. this was the biggest thing you could’ve ever imagine landing, and you did it in 15 minutes! (kaito let you speak more as soon as she recognized you meant business.)

you all but skip back to the cafeteria, where your friends still resided. a huge smile plastered your face, you couldn’t contain it any longer. nobara saw you approach the table and she instantly understood what this meant. “you got it? oh my god- she got it!” she jumps up in a flash and squeals with you, hugging and jumping as you were. yuuji gave a little cheer and ruffled your hair, which you were too happy to protest. after a moment of drawing attention to yourselves, you all finally sit down. megumi wasn’t big about gestures, so when he tapped you and gave two thumbs up with a wink to boot — you felt honored to be blessed with such a rarity. you tearfully make a heart sign with your hands to him back.

“there is no way we’re not celebrating,” nobara looks at you with a determined expression. “we’re going to the frat party this weekend, and you can’t say no!” she throws her hands up in glee and bumps you with her hip, both her and yuuji doing a little victory dance in their seats. you almost perk up with your usual response and yuuji instantly shushes you with his finger. “speak not, young padawan. to the party you shall go,” the mock solemnity paired with the swishes of his invisible lightsaber cracked you up. you sigh and throw your hands up. “alright, i’ll go,” you accept with a grin. immediately the cheers and dancing from yuuji and nobara return, and you could bet everyone in the cafeteria wanted you all to shut up or leave.

sukuna didn’t really care for girls. that’s not to be confused with fucking— he definitely fucked girls, but none really made him stop and think about who they were and what they did. truth is, he had a system. due to the fact sukuna had a long list of interactions with girls, he found it fun to compartmentalize. he took in what they wore, how they leaned towards him, the way they primmed themselves raw to appease him in a twisted, faux way. he didn’t want that. see, he had reason to believe all the girls that were interested in him held a vested interest— whether it was his money or his body, all of them came to him with some sort of ulterior motive. the persona they craved was just a fraction of the truth in his existence. ergo, sukuna didn’t really care for girls because they didn’t care for him.

so imagine sukuna’s intrigue when he meets yuuji’s little friend, the one he’s heard of but never saw- unlike the urchin kid and the loud redhead. you were an unknown to him. the outlying variable in the way you stiffened in his presence, almost begging with your eyes to be gone from his stare. you tried to be subtle, he noted this. however, despite your evident body language, your crass words painted a different picture. a self assured, independent girl who found him annoying and wasn’t afraid to tell it to his face. it was a little predatory in the way he savored how he made you agitated. he wasn’t a gentleman, but he would never touch a girl that didn’t want it. that never came to be a problem- most women initiated first touch with him, and then more.

you pushed him aside on first thought.

sukuna let you.

the first touch you initiated with sukuna was to be rid of him. you intrigued sukuna and all you did was go about your day.

he had come down that night to catch a glimpse of you again; he wanted to observe you. sukuna noted a new aspect: your softness. his eyes trailed as you worked quietly to make sure your friends were taken care of, not missing the gentleness you mustered to keep quiet in the process. the angry girl he met three hours ago was long gone. sukuna noticed the red sparkly phone strewn on the rug when you had begun your search, and slinked to pick it up before you could see. granted, his approach was demented— he just had to speak to you more. unfortunately, his desire to tease you rings louder than the one to actually converse and your quick escape meant you were back to a label of the unknown, yuuji’s little friend.

the week flew by for sukuna similarly— as a senior in mechanical engineering his workload wasn’t very light either. he juggled working hours at his grandfather’s auto shop as a mechanic and college as much as he could. he would never admit it out loud, but slipping the extra bills into yuuji’s wallet let him rest a little easier at night. he would count fraternity duties as a part of his responsibilities on paper, but realistically he did nothing in that organization but funnel in family money. it’s what let him keep the arm and body tattoos. he wanted to get some face ones done as well, but he was beaten to a pulp by his grandfather before he could even begin to form the thought. fuck it, he’ll get them when he graduates. who did sukuna have to impress? in the downtime he got, he worked on his bike in the frat garage and rode it for hours in the depth of the night. riding helped his insomnia, something he struggled with since a young age. he’d be damned before he opened that side of memories, so riding it was.

and so sukuna is here a week later, just as you were, sat on the second floor lounge of the cafeteria ironically in perfect view to witness your dramatic entrance. how silly, your face was puffy and red. a cute sight. the ribbons in your braids caught the sunlight from the big window panes.

“kunaaa, you’re not paying attention!” a certain white-haired man made sukuna’s eyes roll. the way he whined was more in the likes of a three year old. “gojo, when did i ever give a fuck about what you have to say?” he deadpans. gojo satoru was definitely a character, and proclaimed himself a best friend to sukuna much to his distaste. “you’re so mean! all i needed to ask was if you got the shit for saturday,” he pouts and cross his arms, slouching in his chair.

“sit up, dumbass, you’re going to get a double chin.” a tall brown haired woman taps gojo on the head with the iced coffee she held, taking a seat beside him. gojo gasps and sits up, immediately going on about how he couldn’t lose his devilishly handsome stature. in tow with her was his more preferred frat brother, geto suguru sporting a cup of his own and another which he hands to sukuna. “you gonna stay around on saturday? me and shoko got a quarter to smoke,” he tells him, sipping on the straw of his coffee. sukuna looks back down to the first floor to you and sanguine eyes catch you running off, ribbons bouncing. this was getting stupid. he needed a good distraction, so fuck it. “yeah, sure. i’ll hit a few.” geto nods in acknowledgment. someone like you wouldn’t go to a sleazy frat party.

“shokooo, will you paint my beer cooler? you’re our little frat sweetheart,” gojo pleads with the woman and sukuna amusingly watches her eye twitch with vague rage. “ask utahime to do it. and call me frat sweetheart again, see what happens,” she smiles darkly. the man chuckles nervously and swats her arm in mock sadness. “getooo, shoko’s threatening my life!” “maybe listen to her, satoru.”

the rest of the week was fairly uneventful, thankfully easy with your new opportunity in tow motivating you to finish off string. the sun crimson, it was 6pm when you hear nobara knock on your apartment door. you open to see her carrying two bag hangers of clothes and her clunky makeup bag, making you pale. “nobs… what’s this?” you ask, slightly frightened. she simply throws a sly smile and enters your apartment, unpacking everything. “oh nothing, just a super sexy outfit and the tools to make you even more of a bombshell,” she dismissively states. you groan internally. you were a fool to think nobara’s antics stopped at you accepting to attend.

3 hours fly by and you were completely dolled up, alongside nobara. your hair was adorned with a classic ribbon, which you plead to keep. nobara only allowed it because it matched the outfit she had you wear, which you didn’t feel awkward in. she knew how to optimize your current style to be more bold.

during the time the makeover occurred, megumi had drove up with yuuji and were waiting in your tiny living room, probably playing your wii mario kart. nobara texts maki a picture of you and she immediately hit her with a reply.

“sexy fox!!!”

when you step out of the bathroom, yuuji let out a slow whistle. “you are looking like one hot mama!” megumi immediately wrinkles his nose. “please never say that again..” he turns to you and gives a small nod. good enough for you. you giggle and pinch yuuji’s cheek. “i appreciate it regardless, yuu.” you thank him with a hug. “but! let’s go before nobara decides to change her eyeshadow again,” you whisper to the two boys and they nod courtly; they were well versed and knew the horrors.

megumi pulls up to the side of the street and puts his lexus in park. you and nobara walk out of the back, and immediately the chilly air hits you. damn this outfit for being so thin.

your eyes fall on the big building and instantly the color drains from your face. the big greek letters on the wall of the portico were none other than sukuna’s fraternity. how did you miss this? why didn’t it come in conversation that the party would be here ? you try racking your memory when it dawns. you had zoned out when yuuji started explaining the details of the party. there wasn’t much you could do, you were already here and your friends were excited to let loose. you just had to make sure you didn’t run into him.. hopefully.

nobara comes around behind you and links an arm with you and pulls you out of your thoughts and drags you faster in pace. “c’mon girl, time’s a-wasting!” yuuji and megumi walk close behind you. yeah, it’ll be fine! you had them. as soon as you went inside, the smell of beer and sweat hit your nose. loud beats pumped through the walls that you had heard faintly from the outside, but didn’t compare to the volume inside. you felt a little weird yet confident when you turned a few heads, some guys eyeing you down with smiles. nobara caught wind and wiggled her eyebrows at you suggestively, which you scoffed at. you could barely hear nobara tell you she had spotted maki and was making her way to meet her— you only understood when you saw maki wave at you. yuuji and megumi motion they’re going to get drinks and be right back, which ironically left you alone.

you walk towards the area where the music wasn’t as loud, which was the back of the house. stepping closer, you behold big glass sliding doors and recognize it’s the back porch, in view of a color-lighted pool. before you can compute the people at the porch, sanguine eyes meet yours and your heart stops. sukuna was leaned on a porch chair, a thin blunt rest between his lips. he looked.. different. i mean, you only saw him in a tank and shorts, but this was like witnessing a new side of him. the only constant was the silver chain on his neck.

you couldn’t discern what kind of look he was giving you, but it was making your skin flame and the previously thin-seeming outfit now felt suffocating and hot on your body. something about his gaze felt like a violation of your privacy. without looking away from you, he exhales, mouth and nose, handing the blunt to a tall brown haired woman in an all black tiny dress. she seemed out of place with the seemingly thug-like frat men around her, sukuna included.

you back away from the glass panes and decide to find yuuji and megumi to escape this weird tension you just found yourself in. you spot a tall man with a black haired up-down smiled at you warmly and you nod kindly in response. he walks to you and leans down to your ear to speak. “are you yuuji’s friend?” you nod. thankfully, the new song was relatively more quiet and you could a hear lot better. “i’m suguru, by the way,” he says with a small smile. you give him yours. “pretty name for a pretty girl,” he drawls. “you like red?” his hand flicks the ribbon in your hair. you roll your eyes. “it matched the outfit,” you defend lightly. he gasps mockingly. “wow, i just noticed! red top, red bag, how cute! little red riding hood, you are,” he teases. “i bet your phone case is red too.” you shake your head and deny over-dramatically. “cmon, let’s see it!” he prods playfully. you sigh and show him the sparkly red phone in defeat. “you caught me. i’m secretly a red fiend. the second carmen sandiego, even.” he laughs heartily and tilts his head at you, pausing for a moment. “you looked a little lost, y’know. that’s not safe at a frat party,” he chuckles. “i was just looking for the drinks. do you know where they are?” he nods and puts a hand on your arm to spin you in the direction to it. “it’s the kitchen, just down this way and on your left. just weave the crowd,” he advises. you scan and see a light from a different room in the direction, which could mean the kitchen suguru meant. you look up and grin kindly. “thanks, suguru.” “don’t mention it, pretty girl.” he seemed like a cool person.. even a little hot, you had to admit.

you begin weaving people, trying not to bump into someone or step in mystery liquid but these boots were starting to be harder to get a grip in. a girl dancing pushes you slightly and you lose your balance a little, causing you to lose footing. before you know it, you stumble into a guy and you hear him drop his drink.

“what the— HEY! watch where you’re going, b-“

the blue haired man turns around and sees your doe eyed face and goes a little stupid.

you were already apologizing profusely. “oh my god, i’m so sorry, someone bumped into me, i can-“ “no worries, doll. you’re getting all riled up over nothin’,”

his smile felt sleazy and his eyes rake over your body violently.

“do i know you? you from a soror?” you didn’t like this exchange any longer and wanted to leave, now.

“actually, my friends are waiting for me, so i’ll just-“

“aw, what’s the rush, baby? you don’t wanna get to know me?”

his hand quickly snakes around your waist and you feel him grope you and you push him off of you and yell.

“what the fuck!” a hand pulls the man back and you were relieved to see it was megumi. “if you look at her again, i’ll fucking kill you.” he states coldly. the blue haired man scoffs and throws his hands up in surrender.

“it’s not that deep, man, she was just talking to me,” “yeah yeah, save it asshole. let’s go,” megumi wraps a protective arm around you and weaves you to the kitchen quickly.

he looks at you with a face of worry. “i’m so sorry we took long, yuuji ended up doing beer pong and he’s super wasted. did he do anything to you?” you wave your hands and shake your head, trying not to burden your friend. “he just grabbed me, but i pushed him off, i’m okay! i swear.” he eyes you, concerned. you did tend to downplay your own well-being and health, even to your detriment. before he could say anything else, you hear a drunk yuuji hoot loudly. “loooook gumi, i gots a ‘nother beeeeeer!” megumi immediately groans and goes to yank the drink out of his hand. yuuji somehow sees you in his drunken haze. “ohhhhh, look who it isssss! prettiest hot mama, my best frienddddd!” he makes grabby hands for you, but before you can reach him, he passes out and almost hits his head on the marble counter— fortunately megumi’s reflexes catches it before it happens. “i swear, yuuji knows he’s a lightweight but drinks like it’s juice,” he grimaces. you look at yuuji and sigh. so much for a party animal.

suddenly, you start hearing screams and yelling from the living room area. an image of nobara flashes before your mind and you immediately follow the sounds to make sure she wasn’t in danger— only to find the man who just sexually assaulted you getting pounded into the ground by sukuna. no one was able to break the violent trace he was in, the punches hitting constantly one after the other. the sound was so visceral you gasp, swearing you heard a crunch.

you see suguru push through the crowd and pull sukuna off of the man, whispering something angrily into sukuna’s ear. sukuna reluctantly stops. so suguru knows sukuna..?

an angry looking man with green hair is cursing at sukuna. “fuck off, man! we’re brotherhood, is this how you’re gonna treat us?” a woman with braided blue hair drops to the man and screams. “mahito, oh my godddd! are you okay baby!”

“get off me, bitch! ugh- you crazy motherfucker! that whore isn’t even yours, why’d you care?”

the blue haired man yells at sukuna, clutching his bloodied nose. you couldn’t even tell if the blood was from his face or his nose. sukuna almost lunges back onto him hearing what he said but a white haired man with sunglasses also intervened like suguru and pulls him back.

you didn’t realize your hand flew to your mouth in pure fear. they were all frat brothers here, and something about it all made your head spin. you wanted out, now. the stuffy heat of the house was making you dizzy.

you refuse to make eye contact with sukuna and you instead set out to find nobara. you scan all the rooms and end up finding them in the garage of the frat house. like yuuji, nobara was also trashed beyond belief and draped over her girlfriend, babbling and giggling. maki looks at you with a small apologetic smile. “i think i’m just gonna take her home, if that’s okay.” you nod and smile faintly. “i have to get this one in the car, too,” you hear over your shoulder. megumi is walking down with a passed out yuuji slumped on him in a piggyback position. all your friends were preoccupied with taking care of the drunk ones, you couldn’t bother them with taking you home too. that would be rude of you, right? you hated the thought of being a burden to the people you cared about, especially when they have more things to deal with. it’s fine anyways, you had a solution. “megs, i’ll just call an uber, ‘kay?” his face drops in a frown and he objects. “no! i can take you too, don’t worry. i just need to keep yuuji at bay, so—“

“i’ll take her.”

you trace a gruff voice above you and discern sukuna is standing directly behind you, completely unfazed with what he just committed mere moments ago. the audacity of this man! “i’d rather die than have you take me home,” you spat angrily. he sighs like explaining this to you was a inconvenience to him. “it’s a 3am uber or me. your choice.”

a drunk yuuji stirs and he starts squirming and nearly makes megumi topple over. maki looks at the entirety of you and narrows her eyes. “darling, go with sukuna. i’ll make sure you get home safe, okay?” she tells you softly. her eyes flick over to sukuna and her gaze hardens. “if even a hair on her pretty head is missing, i’ll hunt you down myself.” sukuna holds up two fingers and whistles. “scout’s honor, ma’am.” she nods curtly, picking up her messy girlfriend. she looks at you for a moment more. “text me when you’re home, okay? love you.” you assent, mirroring her bye. megumi frowns a little but gives sukuna a similar tight stare, a more silent exchange between the two occurring. he says his byes to you as well.

the unperturbed man gives you a wry smile, like the ones you’ve given him in prior. “shall we leave then?” you scoff and cross your arms over your chest. this was starting to feel like a mistake and you should’ve just taken your chances with the late night uber.

sukuna leads you further into the garage, behind all the expensive jeeps and roll royces. “what kind of car do you drive, exactly?..” you mutter quietly. sukuna heard anyways and exults a chuckle. “not really a car, i think.”

he comes to a stop at a sleek black motorcycle, which you look at in shock and awe. your jaw drops.

“hell no. absolutely the fuck not.”

“i can still call the uber then…?”

“just hand me the fucking helmet bitch.”

he cracks open the seat to pull out another helmet and hands it to you. you snap it on carefully, not trying to catch your hair or your ribbon. you look at the vehicle and the thoughts start rolling. this was literally a death machine. he wanted you to ride this speed demon that he controls. this was beyond insanity, you never do things like this! but.. what else could you do?

sukuna had already strapped himself in the helmet, hopping onto the bike. he holds out a hand palm up to you. “are you gonna get on, or you gonna keep the fish out of water miming going?” he deadpans. you begrudgingly throw a leg over, letting him help you on behind him. he turns a key and the engine roars to life, the growl of the vehicle echoing in the open garage.

you think back to the moment you and sukuna locked eyes prior and remembered he was smoking weed. “are you sure you’re sober? you smoked a blunt earlier,” your voice was a little high strung, but sukuna just laughs. he looks over his shoulder at you, smirking. “if you think 2 hits on a blunt is enough to get me faded, you’re an idiot.” you smack his back. “stop calling me that!” he simply laughs at you, as always, and starts rolling the bike out of the garage.

“all you need to do is keep your feet in, press your thighs together, and wrap your arms around my waist.”

“wait, what? run that last one back?”

“do you wanna fly off and eat concrete?”

“…no.”

“then do it.”

your hands slowly circle his hard waist and awkwardly hover, weirdly shy about touching him like this.

“woman, if you don’t put your arms around me normally, i will make you.”

you try to argue that this was a perfectly acceptable middle ground but before you can finish, his rough hand yanks your arms to his stomach like it was nothing. you yelp and your helmet bangs into his back at the sheer force. your face flames at the fact your palms were in direct contact with his rock-hard abs, which felt absolutely unreal.

“you could’ve been nicer about that.”

“nothing nice about safety.”

without a warning, he accelerates the bike and you’re off, enlisting another yelp from you. your arms tightened around him, which he grins to himself about. the first few minutes of riding go by with you koala gripped on his waist, not even daring to move your head from the moment he had started. sukuna looks at you in his rear view mirror with a sly grin. “you know nothing will happen if you relax your head, right?” he yells over the wind resistance blowing around the bike. you clearly didn’t even notice that you were so stiff and straighten, looking at him with a displeased frown. “yeah i know, you didn’t have to tell me,” you rebut.

he shakes his head at you and the road looks to merge on the bridge. now open to the sky without the tall building blocking it, you are immediately entranced by how the water shimmers with the moonlight, and the stars were extremely visible tonight. your eyes light up with the simple joy you found in this, just admiring nature. unbeknownst to you, sukuna snuck glances of you in this state and almost wished he could take a picture and capture this for himself later.

faster than you anticipated, sukuna was pulling into the street with your apartment. he came to a slow in front of your building and turned on the ignition, hopping off to help you get down.

you notice his bloody knuckles and let out a little gasp. you’re telling me he was just driving like this, cut up and all? what is this guy on? you can’t leave him like this, he drove you all the way out here.. ugh, damn my guilty conscience! let me be evil for once!

“what?” sukuna gives you a dubious look.

“you’re bleeding,” you deadpan.

he looks at his hands, flipping them over. he seems surprised something was even there. it gave the impression sukuna’s been in brutal fights like that routinely.

“aw what, this? it’ll be fine.”he replied with a shrug. you narrow your eyes at him.

“i’m cleaning those and bandaging you. i don’t want your ass blaming me for tetanus or something.” you throw at him.

sukuna looked down at you and chuckled, and you almost think you saw a genuine smile. you couldn’t tell for sure because it disappeared as soon as it came, replaced with the same annoying smirk he carried.

“alright, then. lead the way, sweetheart.”

your heart is pounding as you walk up the open metal stairway, gigantic tattooed man in tow. how you got here is still unresolved logic in your mind but you’re too tired to fight it. keys jiggle to unlock the small apartment, which felt even more smaller when sukuna stepped inside. it was like a bull in a china shop.

“um.. you can hang your jacket and helmet, if you want,” you point to the small funky coat rack nestled in the corner of the entryway. he nods awkwardly and removes them, along with his shoes. “i’ll be right back, im just getting the medical kit.”

you quickly run into your bathroom and open your mirror cabinet, fishing for rubbing alcohol and some bandaids. to your horror, the only bandaids you had were pink and hello kitty-themed. you imagined the big scary man with pinked up knuckles and giggle. serves him right, you thought.

you walk back in to see sukuna staring at a picture on your mantle of you, yuuji, nobara and megumi. you clear your throat and gesture for him to sit on the couch. he obeys accordingly, nonverbal. you kneel in front of him and you see sukuna look away from you in the corner of your eye. you pull his hands forward and begin dabbing the cuts, and he winces. you give him a questioning smile.

“what, i thought you had a high pain tolerance?”

“low pain tolerance doesn’t include this rubbing alcohol masochism.”

you let out a giggle at the dry joke before you can think to stop.

“what, you find my suffering funny? i punched that douche for you and this is what i get in return..” he grumbled, eyebrows furrowing.

you didn’t really connect the dots in the moment that sukuna was in fact, beating up the guy that sleazed on you. you felt.. something. you didn’t want to give any other name to it besides gratitude.

“ah.. thank you. genuinely.”

his eyes lower to meet your sincere ones and the ice on his resolve melts further. “it.. it was nothing. assholes deserve to get their shit rocked. and mahito’s been asking for an ass-whooping for a hot minute,” he rants. his openness catches you by surprise, but you let him speak away as you clean and bandage him up.

“—and every time they ask, i tell the boys to start listening to cues with women, but the stupid motherfuckers just don’t get it. uh— is there.. is there somethin’ on my face?”

sukuna’s monologue abruptly comes to a halt when he watches you observe him closely. your doe eyes were pooling into his, and he felt like you were perceiving his soul.

“your eyes are sanguine red. did you know that?”

your voice was barely above a whisper, the apartment silent. the same moonlight spilled into your living room and on you and god, he swore you were angelic. his eyes lowered down at your lips, his head moving close—

your phone’s ringtone makes the both of you jump backwards and you scramble to look at the caller id. “father”. you take a deep breath and gesture sukuna to stay quiet. he nods and looks away, trying to resemble some form of privacy for you. you pick up.

“dad, it’s super later at night, is everything okay?” a gruff raspy voice crackles back. “you did not update me or your mother about your new opportunity. i was going to give you until sunday to bring it up yourself, but i grew impatient with your laziness.”

your heart sinks a little. even with the knowledge that you scored a near-impossible internship.. your father had other things to say to you. “choujo. you need to be proactive in everything you do. if you cannot handle sharing important information, how can you even do a simple job! i don’t understand what they teach you at that university.. just a waste, seriously. do better.”

the line cuts before you could say anything back. the apartment fills with a more pained silence this time. you don’t want to look at sukuna, you already felt like disappearing into thin air, the gloom making tears well in your eyes.

“…don’t listen to him.”

you look up to soak the tears back in a little before you meet his gaze timidly.

“what do you mean?”

sukuna takes a moment to really look at you before he sighs, pushing off of his knees to walk towards the coat rack.

“you work hard? that’s all that matters. don’t listen to the noise assholes wanna make,” he states firmly, unhooking his leather jacket and biker helmet.

you frown at his use of words towards your father, whom you still respected despite his harsh treatment of you. “ah.. thanks, sukuna.”

he puts the jacket on in one swift gesture, giving you a slow grin. “nah. it’s just common sense, something an idiot like you wouldn’t know.”

your jaw ticks and you immediately start pushing him out the door. “aaaand that’s enough of you for tonight! good riddance,” you snap in annoyance, feeling him shake with the snickers he was suppressing. you give him a dry smile and slam the door in his face.

sukuna stands at the door for a moment, making sure he hears you walk away.

“goodnight, sweetheart.”

a soft bid to you, the sound in the night air washing away with the clunks of his shoes on metal steps.

the man reaches in his pockets to fish out his keys and is met with a paper-like material. pulling it out, he recognizes the design to be the same as the bandaids adorning his hands now. a sticky note attached with neat handwriting read,

“for my phone. asshole”

sukuna smiles to himself, shaking his head. you were extremely hotheaded, that was a given — but the fact you held kindness in a small gesture and chose to downplay it made him wonder what it would be like to actually be admired by you.

definitely more pink bandaids.

but he knew better than to poke around his little brother’s friend.. or so he convinced himself he believed. he quickly tucks them back into his pocket, starting his motorcycle to ride back home with only one thing on his mind… you.

next chapter might take a while because i rushed this one out, but don’t fret! i won’t leave it for more than a couple days :)

peace luv bathtub!!!

157 notes · View notes

saltywinteradult · 2 months ago

Note

How is Dany is abusive to Jon?

Honest question, I’ve never given it a thought

I'm sorry this took me so long, anon, and I am really sorry for how long this post got. I had a lot of thoughts on this.

Before we begin, I'd like to point you to this compilation of Jon's reactions to Dany, which hardly paints a picture of a man who is happy and in love, as well as this post and this gifset, both pointing out the parallels between Jon's relationship with Dany and Sansa's relationship with Littlefinger, the latter being a relationship I hope most people can agree is abusive.

It's absolutely crucial to remember that in this relationship, Dany is the person with the power. She is the one with the dragons and the biggest army, and she is willing to both use and abuse that power to get her way.

Furthermore, Dany wants the North's loyalty, but the North needs her help. (The fact that it's Dany's duty as well as in her own best interest to help fight the Others is a different discussion; she doesn't seem to understand this anyway.) She has agreed to grant that help, but she could easily withdraw it if she chooses. She has more power than literally anyone else and there's simply no escaping that power imbalance - it permeates every single interaction Dany has with Jon and all the other Northerners for all of s7 and the first half of s8.

I want you to remember how Dany treats Jon on Dragonstone. His weapons and his boat are taken away immediately upon his arrival. She says Jon is "not yet" her prisoner, but 1) that line very clearly implies that she could make him her prisoner if she chooses to, and 2) how much does it really matter that Jon is "not yet" her prisoner when she's already taken away his means of defending himself or leaving the island? Remember how she later tells him "I haven't given you permission to leave." Girl, what happened to Jon not being your prisoner?

I think it's also very telling that Dany never once addresses Jon by his proper title of King in the North, even before he bends the knee. As you may recall, Dany cares a great deal about titles. She never grants Jon the same respect she demands for herself, and she likes to remind Jon that she is his Queen even during a supposedly intimate, romantic scene.

(Gif by yocalio via gameofthronesdaily)

Earlier in this scene, Dany pointed out that they could stay here in this secluded spot, away from the kingdom and its politics, and no one would find them. Yet even here, away from the rest of the world, she makes a point of referring to herself as "your Queen".

I point all of this out to illustrate that from the very beginning and throughout their relationship, Dany views Jon as a subordinate, not an equal. That is very much not a good foundation for a healthy and equal romantic relationship. Her constant expectation is that Jon will submit, obey, give things up to benefit her, and ensure that the people he has power over act the way she wants.

Case in point:

"Your sister doesn't like me. [...] She doesn't need to be my friend, but I am her Queen. If she can't respect me..."

The implication is that Sansa is doing something wrong by not liking or respecting Dany (meaning "not acting deferential enough for Dany's taste"). The fact that Dany is saying this to Jon and not to Sansa herself implies that it's Jon's responsibility to ensure that Sansa behaves acceptably. "If she can't respect me..." Then what? What exactly is she implying will be the consequences? That their romantic relationship will end? Something worse?

At this point, the North has bent the knee to Dany. As their monarch this is not an entirely unreasonable thing to ask of her subjects - but it's not a very reasonable thing for a girlfriend to ask of her boyfriend, is it? The line between Jon and Dany's political relationship as monarch and subject and their personal relationship as girlfriend and boyfriend isn't just blurred, it's practically nonexistent. To state the obvious, there is a reason we decided that absolute monarchies are bad here in the real world. There is also a reason why a boss dating a subordinate is frowned upon in the real world. Big power imbalances are a bad idea in general and in romantic relationships especially. They should at the very least be considered and navigated carefully. Dany not only fails to do so; she is only happy with her and Jon's relationship when she has power over him.

For proof, let's look at how she reacts when that power imbalance is upended by the revelation of Jon's true identity:

youtube

This revelation is a bombshell for Jon. Everything he thought he knew about his own origins turns out to be untrue. However, Dany's first and only thought is how this affects her. Her first reaction is denial and scepticism; the second is to turn cold as soon as she realises that this makes Jon a threat to her ambitions.

There's also this line:

"A secret no one in the world knew, except your brother and your best friend. Doesn't seem strange to you?"

Which implies... What, exactly? That Sam and Bran made this up? Why? Just like with Sansa in the previous scene, we see Dany questioning the actions and intentions of Jon's loved ones. Remember that.

Things escalate in episode 4:

youtube

Dany is faced with the notion that Jon might hold more political power than she thought, that they might actually be on somewhat equal footing, and this makes her unhappy.

"I want it to be the way it was between us."

Her desire is to continue their sexual relationship and to return to the previous status quo where she held more power than him and therefore didn't consider him a threat. Jon having a stronger claim to the throne than her threatens Dany's sense of her own identity and purpose, and she reacts by trying to deny and suppress this reality:

"You can say nothing, to anyone, ever! Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else! Or it will take on a life of its own and you won't be able to control it or what it does to people!"

(Imagine this with the genders reversed. Yikes.)

Dany is demanding Jon keep his own identity secret from his own family. That's not a reasonable thing to ask of a person you love. Not for one second does she show any consideration for how Jon might feel or what Jon might want. It's all about her. Her expectation is that Jon suppress his own identity, his own reality, to benefit Dany's ambitions. Never once does it seem to occur to Dany that what Jon does with this secret is up to him to decide, not her. His agency is of no concern to her.

Jon: I have to tell Sansa and Arya. Dany: Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne. [...] She's not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she's seen, not after what they've done to her. [...] Jon: They're my family. We can live together. Dany: We can. I've just told you how.

Here we are again with Dany questioning the motives and agendas of Jon's loved ones. Now she's no longer implying but outright stating that they're working against her. What we have here is a pattern of Dany implying that Jon's loved ones are up to no good and can't be trusted. I don't need to explain why that is a dangerous and manipulative thing to do to one's partner, right?

I also want you to pay extra attention to how Emilia delivers that final line. Throughout the whole scene Dany is distraught and desperate, but at this point she turns cold and closed off with an unmistakable anger that Jon won't agree to do as she demands. It is very hard not to read a threatening undertone into that line. "Keep it secret, or else."

Before we move on to episode 5, I'd like to highlight this line, spoken by Dany to Tyrion and Varys in episode 4:

"Speaking to Cersei will not prevent a slaughter. But perhaps it's good the people see that Daenerys Stormborn made every effort to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei Lannister refused. They should know whom to blame when the sky falls down upon them."

Let's be clear on one thing here: Cersei could choose to back down and surrender to avoid bloodshed - but, and I cannot stress this enough, so could Dany. Cersei and Dany are both being selfish and power-hungry by refusing to give up the throne in order to avoid bloodshed. But to admit that would ruin Dany's deeply rooted self-image as morally superior to her enemies. So what does she do instead? She deflects blame. She's the one with the dragons, but if she makes the sky fall down on people, as she puts it, it's not her fault. Keep that in mind.

Now for the absolute low point:

youtube

"What did I say would happen if you told your sister? [...] She betrayed your trust. She killed Varys as much as I did. This was a victory for her. Now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you."

Okay. Varys was conspiring against Dany, which he could've chosen not to do; I guess Dany was within her rights to punish him. She still could've chosen to imprison him, or at least give him a trial. Nobody made her kill him. But as we've just seen, Dany doesn't like to accept responsibility for her own decisions. She'd rather deflect the blame onto the people who displease her.

What's more, she's not just blaming Sansa for Varys's death but Jon as well, for telling Sansa the secret in the first place - which Jon was well within his rights to do! He never agreed not to tell anyone. That wasn't up to Dany to decide in the first place. Jon did what he wanted to do and not what she wanted him to do, so now everything Dany does as a result of Jon's actions is Jon's fault? Do I even need to explain how shitty this is?

"Far more people in Westeros love you than love me. I don't have love here. I only have fear."

This is entirely true. She never stops to think about why Jon is more beloved in Westeros than she is, but whatever. What's important is that after this, Dany initiates a kiss and Jon rebuffs her.

(Gifs from snowsource)

"Alright then. Let it be fear."

Again, what exactly do we think she's implying here? Remember the context. During this conversation, Jon already told her "you will always be my queen". He hasn't rejected her as his queen (which at this point he damn well should), he's just rejecting her sexual advances. And yet, Dany's reaction to his personal rejection of her is to embrace "fear", which again refers to how all of Westeros sees her, not just Jon. Dany already deflected blame for her previous actions onto people who displeased her including Jon, and now she's deflecting the blame for her future actions in the same way. And we all know what she did after this, don't we? I don't know how the line "let it be fear" can mean anything other than "you rejected me and that's why I'm going to embrace being feared, so whatever I do now in the name of being feared is really your fault. Look what you made me do." If that isn't abuse, I don't know what is.

#anti jonerys #anti-jonerys #anti daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys #anti-daenerys #jon snow #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #abuse tw #emotional abuse tw

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waffles-art-writing · 1 year ago

Note

Can you do Ghost(mw2) x female reader who is like Yor from spy x family(the jobs she has not the personality)

Female reader also has a child

COD MWII Ghost x Female!Assassin!Reader. (Reader has a child)

Summary: You’re recalled from retirement of being an Assassin, your daughter being your main priority. You end up going back into the field with Task Force 141. After the mainly successful mission, Ghost takes you home after finding out you’re injured but not sever enough to need to go to the medical wing. You share a soft moment with the cold lieutenant, showing the side of the quiet man no one has seen. The next morning the babysitter drops your daughter back home, your young child coming home to a surprise and a face she hasn’t seen since she was a wee babe.

Proofread: Kinda???? Not really

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Female Assassin (AFAB)

Age Rating: 16+

Codename: *Whatever you want it to be*

KEY: Y/N - Your Name. L/N - Last Name. C/N - Codename

Warning/Info: FLUFF!!!! Soft!Ghost, Injury Description, COD Violence, Female!Reader, Weapons. It is reasonably long. Call Of Duty Comic Description of Ghost.

If you want a part 2 please comment!!! <3 :) (PART TWO)

I apologise for the lack of posting, stuff irl has been picking up a lot and I will not be able to post as much as I wish I could. And I am applying for a new job which will result in me having to spend less and less time on here. :( but I’ll update when I can.

A screeching sound pierces through your calm, soundless sleep. The ear piercing sound making you groan, rolling over, smacking your hand onto your nightstand, slapping the screen of your phone. The sound comes to a halt, you look at the time. Eyes widening, you didn’t set the earlier alarm. “Shit shit shit.” You curse out, stumbling to pull on some pants, tossing a shirt over your head as you dash down the hall. Stopping to peek into your daughters room, who is fast asleep, covers pulled up to her chin, a foot sticking out of the bed to the side.

A soft smile spreads across your lips as you look at her. Her hair a mess on the pillow, hands wrapped around her stuffed dog toy, snuggled into it. You move away from the door, continuing on your mission to the bathroom, pulling your hair back into a messy bun. Life has been hectic ever since putting your job as an assassin on hold so you can have your daughter, and not end up losing her cause you’re not around enough. Only two people knew about you and your daughter, both of them still working well and truly.

You flick on the bright light in the bathroom, you look towards the mirror. Dark circles rest under your eyes, hair tousled and messy despite it being pulled up in a messy bun. You lean against the bathroom counter, turning the tap on to brush your teeth. Suddenly your phone vibrates, the sound echoing around the cold room, almost amplifying the sound. You tap the green button on the screen not looking who it was.

“Hello?” You answer, your voice quiet to not wake your daughter.

“Morning L/N.” The deep gravely voice of Price comes from the speakers, it almost sends a chill down your spine. You haven’t been called this early by him in a long while. “Morning John, is there something you need?” You cut straight to the point, not wanting to beat around the bush as to why he is calling you so early in the morning, on a week day of all days.

“Straight to the point as always I see. Yes, we need your expertise for an overview of a mission- Yes I know, before you even complain I know you aren’t in the field anymore, or thats what most say but Laswell says otherwise.” You roll your eyes, of course he would know you still do the occasional job but you haven’t done one for years, you aren’t even sure as to how he thinks you could help. “Mission Overview? What could I possibly help with?” You question, your hands running under the cold water to splash it onto your face.

“Its an Capture or kill mission and if the time comes and we, y’know gotta send the target on their merry way to an early grave, we want you to give us an idea on how we should do it.”

“And why can’t you guys figure it out?”

“L/N we need you for this, its a complicated mission… I myself want you in the field and execute this yourself…”

You sigh, running a hand down your face. You worked for KorTac - a mercenary group - and you assisted Price and his team the Task Force 141 on occasion. But you mainly worked solo, the Task Force 141 never met you, other than Price and Laswell. You met Ghost as well, you both stay in contact occasionally, only in case of emergencies… well more like, needing a ride from the base back home on the very rare occasion he decides to go home.

“Pay?” You ask.

“Whatever your rate is, kid.” He replies.

“Good. I’ll be there in 3 hours.” You hear Price reply with confirmation before hanging up the phone. Your fingers drum against the counter.

Okay, cool, doing another job, nothing new right? Just been out of the field for a few years, just gotta warm up a bit thats all… Right?

—��—

“Okay behave, don’t do anything silly and listen to your teachers. And remember to listen to Amber’s parents okay? Have a good day and a fun sleepover.” You say to your daughter - Emilia - kissing her forehead. “Yep!” She chimes, a smile spread across her cheeks, her braids neatly tucked up into a ponytail. “Good, Love you.” You smile, pulling her into a hug. “Love you too Mama.” She squeezes her arms around your neck, your crouched form still larger than her. Once you let go, she waves goodbye, running into school towards her friends. You smile, quickly turning around to walk towards the car park.

You make your way towards the dark blue sedan you bought far too long ago, still surprised it still works. Your face falls when you see a figure leaning against the hood of it, hands in their pockets, clad in black. Including a cap and what looks like a skull balaclava. You sigh, knowing who it is. Its not a common thing to see people walk around in a skull print mask and clad in full black.

“Lieutenant…” You greet when you reach him, he stands up and nods to you. “C/N…. Or should I call you Miss L/N?” He pokes, his dead pan tone not helping his remark to come across as teasing. You shake your head with a smile, unlocking the car. “I’m assuming you’ve been sent to make sure I end up coming right?”

Ghost shrugs, a small nod accompanying it. “We can’t be too careful…” He states, climbing into the passenger seat as you get into the drivers side. “Right… whatever you say Ghost.” You huff, buckling yourself in as you pull out of the car parking.

———

“The mission will be tough, but I brought an old acquaintance along to help us plan out a strategy. Boys, meet C/N. She has worked with me in the past and used to work for the Mercenary ground KorTac, she now works solo for the government.” Price states as you stand at the front of the room.

“Hello, Yes before you ask I’m what some call an ‘assassin’. I work solo but I haven’t worked in the field for some years now, as I have had other things going on. But I am still qualified to assist you boys in any way to make sure this mission is a success.” You pause, locking eyes with Ghost, he knows you’re nervous to be here again. You continue to inform them the best strategies for them to be able to do this unnoticed, especially while inside.

———

It’s the day of the mission, you managed to get a babysitter for Emilia. She wasn’t all too happy about you leaving for a few days, but you said you’ll be back in not time, and have a gift for her. Which is partly true, you just hope nothing goes south and cause you to stay away longer than you planned. You want to be back by the weekend, or at least before the new school week starts.

Your plan to stay out of the field didn’t last long, Gaz ended up falling sick with food poisoning, pretty bad food poisoning from the amount of time he spent in the bathroom or medical bay yesterday. Still having an upset gut this morning when you arrived at an ungodly hour in the morning, having just dropped Emilia off at the baby sitters.

The team is communicating back and forth over the comms, you’ve managed to infiltrate the building where the target is. The slick walls on the outside not making the job easier. You are definitely a lot less fit than what you thought you were, but still fit enough to keep up with the team and your job on this mission.

Assassinate the target, and get the hell home.

Simple right? Yeah really simple, if it wasn’t a great big warehouse like building with barely any cover or high points for you to use to your advantage.

———

“Got eyes on the target.” You whisper into the comms, slinking along the beams that support the A-Frame ceiling of the warehouse. “Copy that, Ready when you are C/N.” Price states, Ghost and Soap stating something of confirmation.

You step lightly across the beam, your light footwork going unnoticed by the man littering the floor below you. There’s a catwalk just below you, one armed guard standing at a door that leads into the office where your target sits, back to the door and window that overviews the factory.

The guard walks up and down the cat walk intermittently, observing everything below him. Never above him. How stupid.

As soon as the guard passes by under you, reaching a part in the catwalk railing that’s solid sheet metal. You jump down, landing lightly on your feet, the sounds of the factory drowning out your movement. Crouched low you sneak up behind him, slicing the backs of legs, right through the tendons that keep him standing. You spring up, hand covering his mouth to keep him silent. Other arm wrapping around to the front, quick jerk to the side. Lights out.

You gently lay his limp body down, tucking him up against the metal barrier.

“Guards out, preparing to breach the targets office.” You communicate. “Be careful C/N.” Ghost states over the Comms, both him and Soap just downstairs at the entrance, ready to breach if anything goes sideways. “Always am.” You hear Soap snort at your reply as Price growls at you all to focus.

Your skilful hands test the door, it doesn’t budge, the window that’s just a foot or two away from the edge of the cat walk is open. Either pick lock the door and risk getting caught with your back to the open or swing in through the open window and possibly fall and either hurt your self, die, or break all your bones then die by one of the other guards bullets. Either way you could end up dead.

Window.

Quickest way in.

———

The mission was a success, you managed to get into the room, secure the target and kill them. Clean and quietly. Getting out was a different mission entirely, one of the guards spotted the fact they couldn’t see another guard on the cat walk. They investigated and found the slumped body of the dead guard. Immediately yelling for the alarm to be pulled.

Ghost and Soap busted in to draw their attention to them and away from the office, all you had to do was get the fuck out and get to the extraction point. You managed to slip out the window on the far side of the office, but not without being nicked by the a few bullets.

You manage to sprint across the roof, throwing yourself off the edge and landing on top of a large truck with a large thump. You cough harshly, feeling like your ribs got smashed by a sledge hammer. You stumble to your feet, slipping off the side of the truck and sprinting towards the back fence of the compound, you glance to your right, seeing Ghost and Soap climbing the wall quickly. You fling yourself into the fence, dragging yourself over the top, thankful theres not barbed wire.

“C/N? You good?” Soap calls over the comms, you can hear he’s breathless, the faint sound of Ghost in the background barking orders out to the extraction chopper to start the engine. “Y-Yeah…” You wheeze, rushing through the brush of the forest, weaving in and out of trees heading uphill towards the small clearing the chopper is situated in. Your lungs burn, the cold air stinging your eyes and cheeks. The adrenaline numbing the pain in your leg and arm, your ribs still feeling like you’re wearing a corset.

You stumble into the clearing, Ghost and Soap a few paces ahead, the lieutenant spins around. Noticing you’ve arrived, Soap running to the chopper. You nod to Ghost as you approach, Ghost waits for you to pass before following after you into the chopper. You slump down into the uncomfortable chair of the helicopter, adjusting to keep your ribs from being pushed on by the seat strap.

Both the men ask if you’re okay, you wave them off chuckling while wheezing out a “Just a little unfit is all.” Soap chuckles, Ghost just shakes his head lightly, moving forward to signal for the chopper to get you all out of there.

———

Once back in England and on base you get a phone call from the babysitter a normal thing, it’s almost eight thirty in the evening “Hello?” You ask, bringing the phone to your ear as you walk down path towards the entrance of the base, car parked not too far front he entrance. “Hey Miss L/N! Lizzie here, I was just gonna put Emilia to bed. Are you free to talk to her?” The babysitter Lizzie states, it’s almost like a nightly ritual. Every night that you’re not home, whoever is looking after your daughter will call to see if your available to say goodnight to Emilia.

“Yeah I’m free.” You state, stopping at the end of the path by the entrance of the main building, sitting down on the bench outside. You hear Lizzie talking to Emilia, your daughter sounding tired but excited. “MAMA!” She calls through eh phone, you smile a and laugh lightly hearing your daughters voice warms your heart, her sweet voice making you happy. “Hey pumpkin. You behaving?” You ask her, having a teasing tone. “Yeah! We got to watch a movie while eating dinner!” She states happily, you smile listening to her talk about what happened throughout the day.

The door opens and closes, Ghost slips out into the cold evening. His eyes spot you off to the side, its dusk, the flood lights not coming on just yet. He can see your breath in the cold air, billowing out past your lips. His own breath billowing out into the air as he pulls his mask up, he leans against the small wall of the entrance staircase. He shoves he cigarette between his lips, cupping his hands around the flame of the lighter. He hears your laugh, it echos into the evening air. Its warm and light to his ears, his eyes flick up to watch you. He’s too far away to hear what you’re talking about.

You bid Emilia goodnight, shutting off your phone as you shoved it into your jacket pocket. Sighing as you search your small duffle bag for your keys, knowing you threw them in there. You wince, groaning as you lean over, gripping your side with ragged breaths.

Ghost pushes off the wall as soon as he sees you double over on the bench, showing pain. “Hey hey hey… what’s wrong?” He mumbles, flicking his cigarette in front of his boot and stomping it out. Stopping over the smouldering ashes to crouch down in front of you, pulling his mask down quickly as he kneels. “C/N what’s wrong?” He asks, his voice stern as he looks at your scrunched face, pain obvious across your expression. “My ribs- I… I thought they were just bruised.” You wheeze out, sitting back to look at him. His hands ghost over your knees as he stands, sitting next to you.

“Let me check, we don’t want you to go home with broken bones. Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks, motioning for you to shrug off your jacket. “Just a few grazes from a bullet but I handled them, they weren’t deep.” You groan, pulling your jacket off, your thick jersey and shirt thankfully being warm enough in the crisp air. “Okay, may I touch your ribs? Under your jumper?” The taller man asks, you nod your head turning slightly so your back is facing him. His glove clad hands snake under your jersey and shirt, ghosting over your waist up to your ribs.

“Did you land on your back or front?” He asks, his fingers delicately pressing against your rib cage. “Front, kinda threw myself off the roof onto a truck roof…” you state, flinching when his hands snake around to your front, right under the hem of your sports bra. Rough gloves pressing into your ribs. You wine, flinching away from his hands. “Ow- Watch it lieutenant…” you snap, your body disagreeing with your sudden movements. “M’sorry” he mumbles, he pulls his hands back. Laying your jacket across your shoulders again. “Well nothing is broken from what I could tell, but you’re not driving.” He states, standing from his spot next to you and grabbing your duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

You look at him confused, a brow raise as you slip your arms through eh jacket again, fixing your jersey and shirt in the process. You stand, looking up at the large man. “What? I need to get home, what the hell do you mean Ghost?” You ask, tone almost angry. “I’m driving you home, you shouldn’t drive when you have damaged ribs.” He states, keeping his explanation to a minimum. You sigh shaking your head as you follow him, he ready knows where your car is. You both arrived in the same vehicle so thankfully he remembered where you parked.

———

The drive back to your place was quiet, the occasional question, or observation. Ghost helps you out of your car, his hand ghosting over the small of your back guiding you up the stairs of the small apartment. “You didn’t have to walk me to my door, Ghost.” You state, unlocking the door and pushing the door open. Toeing off your boots by the door and dumping your bag on the couch as you walk past it, Ghost follows you in, leaving his boots by the door while closing it and locking it. He immediately walks towards your bathroom, he’s been here a few times, he knows the layout like the back of his hand. “Ghost? The hell are-” “Finding your med kit, take your shirt off, I need to properly check your ribs.” You stare down the corridor towards the bathroom with a shocked expression. You throw your coat over the back of the couch, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom, passing it towards your bedroom at the end of the hallway. “I’m in my room just so you know.” You call out, grabbing the hem of your jersey, wincing when you tug it up.

You jump at the feeling of calloused hands resting over yours. “G-Ghost?” You stutter, feeling his presence behind you, his breathing quiet and muffled by his mask. “Let me help.” He offers, more like stating he is going to help you even if you deny it. You lift your arms above your head, wincing at the movement. He tugs the heavy fabric carefully over your head, throwing it over to the hamper in the corner. You wince you turn around, looking up at the taller man. “Why… Why are you doing this?” You ask, brows furrowed.

“You go n’one else to help you, and I know that you wouldn’t get help.” He states, gently pulling your dark shirt up and over your head as well, your sports bra on full display. Ghost’s eyes linger on your chest for a second before quickly adverting his eyes to the medkit on your bed. “Sit down.” He mumbles as he opens the small bag, kneeling down in front of you. You sit with your arms tucked around your stomach, conscious of how you look.

You have always been conscious of your body, especially after your pregnancy. Your tummy never got back to as toned and flat as it was before. Stretch marks paint your hips and thighs, and your lower abdomen like tiger stripes, rough to the touch and unpleasant to look at. Ghost grabs the anti inflammatory cream from the kit, pulling his gloves off and warming the cream up in his hands. You stare at the movement of his hands, mind wandering to thoughts you never thought you would have again.

What would his hands feel like, I wonder if his touch is soft - he lays wears gloves maybe he has soft hands? Maybe they are rough, like his personality. What his he doesn’t like what I look like and thinks I’m disgusting, what if he thinks pathetic for being in pain. What if-

“Y/n?” Ghost asks, he’s being saying your name for the past few moments. You snap your attention back to him, letting out a small ‘huh?’ When you notice him looking at you with slightly furrowed brows. “Can I put the cream on?” He asks, his voice quiet, his hands resting on your legs, palms facing up with the cream smeared across them. “Oh… uh yeah…” A small blush of embarrassment paints your cheeks as you sit straighter, arms resting across your tummy. Ghost watches you sit up properly, reluctant to move your arms. He attempts to work around your arms, gently spreading the cream across your ribs. His hands are calloused but his touch his soft but firm enough to make sure the cream spreads.

“…Love, I need you to move your arms…” He states softly, his eyes looking up to yours, his soft with concern. You furrow your brows, looking away as you move your arms, the yellow light from your lamp glowing softly across your skin. The light bumped stretch marks marring your skin, the deep colour a large contrast against the rest of your skin, most of them have lightened but a few are still dark. You flinch when you feel his hands move lower along your rib cage.

He hasn’t said anything, quiet, like always, eyes analysing everything he is doing in great detail.

He finishes rubbing the cream in after gently lifting the side of your sports bra to get under the cloth, gently massaging the cream into your sore body. “Its still going to be bruise to shit, you’ll have to be careful…” He mumbles, he gently takes your left arm into his hands, peeling back the bandage you haphazardly wrapped around while back on the base. He smears the residue of the cream around the wound, “You did a good job at cleaning it…. Just half assed bandage” he teases lightly, re wrapping your arm with a clean bandage.

You shrug, handing your head, eyes trained on his knee thats pressing into the plush carpet of your room. The same carpet you paid too much money for and installed it yourself while almost 3 months pregnant. A lot of tears have been shed on this carpet, some blood but mainly tears. You hear him say something, your mind elsewhere as you mindlessly shake your head. Not a hundred percent sure on what you were disagreeing too.

You never noticed how detailed his tattoo is, its on display as he takes his jacket off, rolling his long sleeve up. The permanent ink thats been delicately painted into his skin stand out against the rest of his pale skin tone. The scars he’s gained after the tattoo break the ink in small lines, mostly the ink has stayed. His hands are large, rough but gentle. He’s always been a tough and scary man on the outside but you can see he has the same needs as anyone else. Love, affection and care… even partnership. Yes he has the team but he needs something more, but he’s scared, hesitant. Horrified if he gets too attached or too close with someone he cares about he will lose them, he’s terrier he will do the wrong thing, scare them off, pained himself in the a bad light he’s always been known to hold.

Ghost eventually gets to check the bullet graze on your thigh, its shallow. Still needing antibiotic cream and a new bandage, your track pants that unzip up your mid thigh are scrunched up around your hips and upper thigh as he works on your injury. Mumbling something as you hold the clothing out of the way.

“…Can you stay the night?”

Ghost’s movements cease for a brief moment, his breathing stilling as he glances up at you then back down at the bandage he’s wrapping around your thigh. You stay silent, looking at him. Hands itching to do something, but you can’t.

“…Sure…” he replies after a moment.

You nod your head, happy that he agreed. A little anxious despite the fact you know him, he knows you. Fuck he even knows your daughter since she was a wee babe, but hasn’t seen her for some years. She probably won’t remember him at all. She was barely three when he met her, she’s now turning six in a week.

Ghost zips your track pants back up, pulling the fabric down your leg. His hands linger on your covered calf. Fingers pressing in the muscle gently as he stares blankly. You can see he’s thinking, thinking to the point of being motionless. You lean forward, ignoring the slight pain thats throbbing throughout your body. You reach down a tap his hand thats on your calf, knowing he isn’t fond of physical touch. “Ghost…” you whisper, trying to draw him out of his thoughts.

He snaps his head up to look at you, eyes set at a hard glare which soften slightly when he realises its you. You give him a soft smile. “You okay?” You ask softly, his hands falling away from your calf, the warmth going with it. You miss it, the comforting weight and warmth of his large hands gripping your calf. He nods his head as he cleans his throat, standing to clean up the med kit and discard of the old bandages. “Yeah, I’ll be right back… Get uh…” he pauses glancing over at you when he turns to walk to the door. “Change and get into bed, I’ll get you water an a pain killer.” He states, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Ghost shuts the door softly, careful to not slam it. He glances down at his watch. 2245 (10:45pm) he groans quietly, nudging the bathroom door open again the put the med kit back in the sink cabinet.

Why the hell did I agree to stay? What the fuck is wrong with me? Her skin was so soft… Her stretch marks were fucking amazing- FUCK I can’t think like this. I need to stop thinking like this, we are friends… are we even friends? What is she hates me and Is only offering for me to stay out of sympathy or it being late? God she has a kid, I can’t just barge into their life and be the man they see with their mother. I’m not a go-

His thoughts get cut short when he spots a photo of the fridge door, one side of it ripped, torn off. He reaches up and slides it out from under the sunflower magnet. The photo is of you, smiling as bright as the sun thats beaming in through the tree tops. Emilia is cradled in your arms, clearly only a few months old. Her big eyes beaming in sunlight, same colour as yours. Ghost’s fingers trace the ripped edge of the photo, he knew who was supposed to be there. He quickly pins it back to the fridge before taking the pain killers and water to your room.

———

You watch as Ghost places the bottle of water and pain killers on the bedside table. You’re sitting in bed, bag t-shirt and shorts. You look up at ghost, patting the bed next to you. Ghost stares for a moment, shocked you want him in your bed and not to just crash on the couch.

He opens his mouth to deny but you beat him to it. “You aren’t sleeping on that piece of shit couch, you’re staying in here with me. And thats final.” You state, tone firm. Ghost looks from you to the open space on the king sized bed next to you. His eyes flickering back and forth over and over again. “Sleeping on top of the blankets.” He mumbles out, knowing we won’t be able to get past your stubborn attitude, you’re a mother. You know how to get your way. You smile, a soft one of reassurance. You throw a spare shirt at him and point towards the box in the corner.

“Stole this from you a year ago cause you forgot to take it with you after you did your washing here…” You chuckle lightly, “The box should have some basketball shorts or something you can wear. They were my brothers that he gave to me when I was pregnant cause they were bigger than my clothes.” Ghost just nods, crouching down in front of the box and searching through it, he knows you would be angry at him if he slept in his clothes he wore that day.

He looks over at you then towards the lamp next to you, you get the idea and turn over. Back facing him, hand resting on the switch to turn it off as soon as you feel the bed dip behind you. It feels like an eternity for him to lay on the bed, even though he’s on top of the covers. You can hear a small groan emitting from his side of the bed, you flick the switch. The room delving into darkness, the only light peeking out from under our door, the nightlight that sits in the hallway for Emilia happily lighting under the dark corridor.

It quiet, apart from your breathing and Ghost’s muffled breaths, and the starting pitter patter of rain hitting the window. You turn to lay on your back, keeping your eyes on the ceiling.

“Thank you.”

Your soft words break the silence, Ghost looks at you from the corner of his eye. He’s laying like a dead man, straight as board, hands clasped together over his stomach as he looks towards the ceiling.

He hums in response, he turns his head to look at you properly, the dim light from the hallway making it practically impossible to see anything, but his eyes have adjusted easily. He reaches over to clasp your hand thats resting on your own stomach overtop the blankets. Squeezing it softly, letting you know he heard you. A small smile creeps up onto your lips. You turn onto your side, facing him now. He copies your action, bodies mirroring each other as your hands lay clasped together between the two of you. You let out a small sigh, his hand squeezes yours when he hears the heavy breath.

“Emilia would’ve jumped in between us if she was here, she doesn’t like when it starts raining late at night.” You state, smiling to yourself as you trace Ghost’s broad silhouette in the dark room. The small amount of light peeking through the thing curtains behind him on the far side of the room. “So she’s scared of rain?” Ghost’s rough voice cuts through the quiet, the gravel in his voice hoarse but still has a soft tone to it as he tries to talk quietly.

You shrug, unsure what she’s actually scared of. “I think it’s more when it suddenly pours down and it’s dark, the sound and lack of light scares her.” You hum, still trying to figure out what your daughter is scared of, even though you have reassure her many times that its just rain. You hear the deep rumble of Ghost making a humming like sound, like he’s thinking.

“Well… I’m sure there’s no monsters, you’re scary enough” he teases, squeezing your hand. You feign hurt, gasping and swatting his chest lightly. A giggle leaving you, a small, breathy almost non existent chuckle rumbles from Ghost’s chest. “God, if the Ghost thinks I’m scary, I really must be.” You laugh, teasing him back. Your ribs hurt from your laughter, but you’re too caught up in the fact you are hearing the one and only Lieutenant Riley laughing, laying on your bed, your hand in his.

“Nah, yer alright. You’re scary, but not as scary as Price when he hasn’t had his morning coffee” he jokes, tugging you closer slightly, he’s still on top of the blankets. His arm wrapping around your waist, careful on your sore ribs. “That’s true.” You agree, laughing softly as you place a hand on his chest, feather lightly touches run along your back. Your head tucked under his chin, his mask still on. Thankfully he didn’t wear the hard skull one and just a simple fabric one with a skull print.

Your laughter slowly ceases, breathing going back to normal. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you speak up again.

“Thank you again… This means a lot Ghost.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Simon…”

“What?”

“Call me Simon…”

Your eyes widen at his words, a warm feeling flooding your chest as you tuck your face into the nook between his shoulder and neck.

“Thank you Simon.”

“Anytime Y/n”

His words were barely a whisper, you fall back into silence. Its nice, the heat from his body keeping you warm, eating your pain in a way you didn’t think was possible. The pain killers probably taking most the credit for the lack of pain, yet the sense of security and comfort falls over you. Your eyes slide shut, breathing evening out as sleep pulls you into the depths of slumber.

“Goodnight, Love.”

————

You walk out of your room, hair messy, rubbing your eyes, feet padding across the hardwood of the hallway. Mind still in sleep mode. You round the corner into the kitchen from the hallway, bumping into something… more like someone. You wobble as you lose your balance, arms snake around your waist quickly, pulling you close.

“Careful, I don’t wanna take you to the hospital cause you broke your ass.” A deep voice chuckles, you look up, bleary eyed and confused. “O-Oh… Sorry Gho- Simon…” You apologies, rubbing a hand down your face with a groan, leaning your forehead against his chest. He’s changed into his cargo pants from the day before, same shirt from last night. It fits a little tight across his chest and his biceps but not too tight.

“Drinks on the coffee table, go sit down.” He states, his voice still laced with sleep. You look at him confused, glancing over at the coffee table. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to.” You state, walking over to the couch and slumping into it.

“I’m not the one who looks like I got ran over by a bus.” He teases as he walks over, bowl of fruit in hand and more painkillers and a glass of water. You thank him as he hands them to you, he sits next to you on the couch. “Feeling any better?” He asks, voice quiet. You nod your head, scooping some fruit into your mouth. The comfortable quiet gets broken by a knock at the door, you jump from your spot. “Shit” you mumble around a mouthful of fruit. “That’s Lizzie with Emilia.” You state stumbling from the couch, placing the bowl of fruit on the table, throwing your hair back into some sort of up-do. Simon stands from his spot, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Sit back down, I’ll get it.” He states, turning to go to the door.

“Wait Simon you still got-” you were gonna say hes still got his mask on, it will scare Lizzie and Emilia and confused them both as well. But your words die in your throat as you watch him tug it over his head, stuffing it in his pocket. You didn’t realise until now he must’ve washed the black war paint off when he got up. You watched in stunned silence, the man who never takes the mask off, ever. Has now taken it off, his dark short cut hair on display.

With baited breath you watch as the door opens, Lizzie coming into view with Emilia standing next to her gripping her hand. Lizzie looks up at the taller male with wide eyes, filled with confusion. You’re too shocked to register any words being exchanged between the two, you’re shaken from your trance when Simon turns to face you with a small smile. Jaw covered with a light stubble, dark chocolate eyes, a small scar cuts into his brow, two other scars rest just above his other brow. His nose is sharp, jawline defined. On his left another scars cuts through his top lip going up to the outer edge of his nose. There’s a another scar that paints his skin from the bridge of his nose trailing to the right, ending on his cheek bone below his eyes.

“MAMA!” Emilia screams, snapping you out of the trance properly. You crouched down catching her in your arms, ignoring the fact she just rammed straight into your heavily bruised ribs. “Hey pumpkin! I missed you so much.” Emilia wraps her arms around your neck, legs clinging to your waist like a koala as you stand up. Your arms scooped under her to support her properly as you walk over to stand next to Simon. “Thanks a lot Lizzie. I’ll go get your pay-” Simon stops you from moving towards the kitchen island to get your wallet. “Already paid her.” He states, hand resting on your lower back as you look up at him. Emilia looks between the two of you smiling. Lizzie waves it off and says shes happy to do it again, you bid her goodbye and close the door.

Emilia dragged Simon off to her room while you talked to Lizzie, saying something about wanting to show him her stuffed toys. You thank Lizzie again, showing your appreciation for her looking after your daughter. Once you closed the door, you stroll down the hallway. Hearing the rumbling timbre of Simon’s voice softly echoing around the apartment. You reach Emilia’s room, leaning against the door frame, you bite your tongue to not giggle at the sight in front of you.

There’s stands, Simon Ghost Riley, Clad in black cargo pants and a dark grey shirt. Sitting Criss Cross Apple Sauce on the floor, the pastel pink fluffy rug below him a strong contrast to his clothing. Emilia is rambling on about her stuff toys, pulling each stuffed animal off her bed to show the large man. Simon’s eyes are soft, just the barest hint of a smile on his lips as he nods along to Emilia’s words.

“And this one is Burt! He’s a water dragon! See!” The young girl states, a large smile on her face, cheeks rosy from excitement to showing a new person her toys. “Nice to meet you Burt.” Simon greets the toy, probably the umpteenth one he has greeted in the span of five minutes. “Nice to meet you too Mr. Simon!” Emilia states, hanging her voice to sound like a boyish drawl. You can’t help but chuckle at this, walking into the room when they both look over at you.

“I see your toys like Mr. Simon quite a lot, sweetheart.” You smile, taking a seat on the ground, knees tucked beneath you. Emilia smiles, nodding her head as she grabs another toy, leaving the small blue dragon next to Simon, like the rest of the toys she’s shown him so far. “She’s very confident and friendly for a kid.” Simon quietly states, keeping his voice low to talk to you. You nod and shrug your shoulders, a small smirk on your lips. “Yeah, I guess so. She always has been.”

“Mr. Simon… are you staying the night?” Emilia ask’s suddenly, gripping her favourite stuffed dog, in her hands. Simon looks from the young girl to you, in which you just nod to Emilia. “If your mum says I can.” He states, his tone soft. Emilia’s eyes light up, she jumps towards you, pressing the dog toy into your chest. “Please mama! Please please please! Can he stay!” She asks, more like demands. You laugh lightly, scooping the young girl up in your arms. Cradling her against you, humming in a a question manner. “Hmmm. I don’t see why not. SO yes, he can stay.” You conclude, laughing when Emilia squeals in excitement. “Thank you thank you!” She dashes from her spot in your arms, towards her bedroom door. “I gotta go build a fort for movies! Don’t come over till I’m done!” She states, dashing towards the living room, her bare feet pounding against the hardwood.

“Well… Look’s like you have a fan.” You tease the quiet man, a small smile on your lips as your eyes soften when you see him. His large and scarred hands softly gripping the small dragon toy in his hands. “Seem’s so… Guess I’m going to be spending more time here.” He states, standing as he places the toy back on the bed. You stand next to him, leaning up and leaving a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you…” you softly state, placing a hand on his upper arm before leaving the room when you hear Emilia yell something about needing help.

Simon watches you leave, a hand ghosting over his cheek. His chest tightening with emotion, it feels tight but its almost comforting. He shakes his head as he follows you out, planning to help Emilia with her ‘fort’.

#fanfic #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw ghost #cod mw x reader #female reader #afab reader #call of duty fanfic

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edwinspaynes · 7 days ago

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GHOSTS IN THE SNOW

I spent a lot of the day thinking I WILL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST IF I DO NOT SEE A PAYNELAND SNOW KISS RIGHT NOW. Unfortunately, I could not find one to look upon, so I decided to write one. Here you are! You can also read it on Ao3.

Edwin did not like to admit it, but he barely remembered what it meant to feel cold.

Charles did - considering the manner in which he died, it was no surprise. And yet all Edwin could recall was heat, not only from the fires of Hell but also from running, and running, and running. As he strolled along the peaceful nighttime streets of London, Charles's hand in his, he contemplated what it might be like to feel the light snowfall on his face. To have his cheeks wind-whipped and numb, to catch the large, fluffy falling snowflakes in his mouth and taste them.

Edwin did not frequently yearn for life, but in that moment, he felt something like nostalgia for it.

"What're you thinking about, mate?" Charles's voice cut through the still darkness. The world was quiet here, away from London's main roads at three in the morning, but Charles's voice was bold and brave. "You've got that look on your face, the one you get when you're really engrossed in some book or puzzle."

"And what sort of look is that?" Edwin's voice was light.

Charles scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes rather adorably.

Edwin chuckled. "You are being ridiculous," he admonished. "I have never looked like that. You once told me that my contemplative expression is quite clever; I shall choose to believe that rather than your insulting impression."

Charles smiled slightly. "Are you saying I didn't look clever like that? Well, that's rude, isn't it, when I tried so hard."

"You shall have to make a better effort next time." Edwin waved the hand that was not holding Charles's in the air, and Charles squeezed his hand. They continued to stroll along, and Edwin watched the flurries swirl under the light-posts. Electric lighting had been new back in his day, and it was not nearly as bright as this, so bright as to illuminate the snowfall and -

"Oi," Charles said. "You're doing it again." He did not release Edwin's hand, but brought the other one up to poke him on the shoulder. He poked far too many times, far too quickly. Edwin would not have had Charles any other way. "Come on, Edwin," he continued, "what's going on in that big brain of yours, huh?"

Edwin rolled his eyes and huffed. "I am simply contemplating what it might be like to feel... cold," he said. "I do not remember it."

"Oh." Charles stopped walking, and Edwin with him. His hand went slack, and they pulled apart as Charles continued. "That's... I guess... I don't really remember normal cold either, do I? Just like, the perils of terminal hypothermia or whatever."

"Very uplifting," Edwin murmured, and Charles nudged him.

"But. But." Charles tilted his head at Edwin. "I bet it's, like, the opposite of warm, yeah? Like, when you hold my hand, that's warm. Cold would be... the other thing, yeah?"

"Have you never thought it odd that humans always wish to sort things into arbitrary binaries? As much as I enjoy organized thought processes..."

"Hot/cold doesn't feel that arbitrary," Charles argued.

"I shall have to conduct further study." Edwin steepled his hands before himself, an unconscious habit that he knew made him appear confident.

But Charles grinned again. "I mean, if you want something else warm so you can better understand what its opposite might be..."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Charles reached out. He clasped Edwin's hands in his own, breaking his folded hands apart and squeezing his fingers. Then, still smiling, Charles took a step closer to Edwin and placed his hands on either side of his face. Edwin smiled at the last moment before their lips met, and Charles's mouth was as gentle as the snowflakes blowing lightly through the sky.

And warm. Of course, he was warm.

When Charles pulled away, large, uniquely-shaped snowflakes were stark against his black hair. Edwin wondered whether he was in such a state, too, and whether Charles liked the contrast as much as he did. But he did not have to wonder for long. Charles laughed quietly and reached upward to smooth down Edwin's hair, his expression so woefully fond that Edwin had to fight the urge to look away. "Love you, mate," he said casually, and Edwin could not help but smile.

Edwin's heart melted, but his eyes narrowed. "Wait," he said. "What on Earth did that have to do with our previous conversation? How am I meant to better understand the nature of cold due to that?"

"You're not," Charles said without a hint of shame. "I just made up an excuse to kiss you, didn't I. And it worked."

Edwin pivoted toward Charles. "You are trickier than I gave you credit for," he said, smirking.

"And you love me," Charles said, smiling as he trailed after Edwin.

Edwin reached out behind him, and Charles took his hand. "I suppose I do," Edwin mused.

He did not see the way that Charles smiled down at his boots.

dbda taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

@tiredandoptimistic @thevagabondexpress @stormkitty97 @innocentmapleleaf

@honorarypines @tragedy-machine @pisces-swirlix @authoricdemon @many-gay-magpies

@edwardianedwin @babyseraphim @stephen0118 @ingridmatthews

#dead boy detectives #dbda #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #my fic #drabble

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fayes-fics · 8 months ago

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 15 - La Vie En Rose

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, romantic vaginal sex, a brief reference to oral sex. Also features time jumps and the war coming to England.

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the last chapter, and our pair finally have their idyllic home together in Wiltshire. There will also be an epilogue for this story that will be posted shortly after this chapter. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Wiltshire, UK, December 1939 - December 1940

The early December chill creeping under the hem of your wool coat instantly evaporates as your husband carries you over the threshold into your new home, warmth radiating from the roaring fires that blaze in each room.

“Welcome home, Mrs Bridgerton,” Benedict smiles, placing you gently onto your feet in the hallway, even as you do not relinquish the loop of your hands around his neck.

“Kiss me, Mr Bridgerton,” you appeal, pushing up onto your tiptoes and capturing his lips with yours.

Living in Aubrey Hall for the autumn was lovely, but a challenge to find privacy. Yes, time well spent as you were able to triage your friendship with Eloise, but tempered by a yearning to be with Benedict alone in your own home, impatient for the purchase to go through. It is three weeks before Christmas when you are finally able to take the last drive down to Wiltshire—this time for good rather than just a fleeting visit.

“I can't believe we are finally home,” you breathe happily over his lips, both of you breaking into matching grins.

“We are indeed,” he assures, withdrawing from your embrace to shuck his coat and help you out of yours.

“Are we alone?” you whisper as he hangs both in the hallway cupboard.

“I told the two staff we have here to take the night off once we arrived, to return in the morning. They are in the little cottage down the lane, so yes, we are indeed alone, darling wife. What on earth do you have in mind?” He teases, sauntering back to you, that beguiling crooked grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I would like to christen our house,” you declare, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you slide your hands up his biceps and hook them around his shoulders, pushing your body into his, your intent more than obvious.

“Which room, my love?” his voice is like velvet.

“All of them, husband,” you declare, loving the way his pupils dilate and his breath hitches. “Absolutely every single one…”

—

Refracted flames dance across his glassy pupils as he moves over you, taking you with him, dewy skin from the heat of the fireplace you lay next to. The rug is a slight burn under your shoulder blades, not that you would ever ask him to stop, wanting marks on your body from this magical night, so long overdue.

“What are you thinking of, my darling?”

His voice resonant as your nails scratch lightly along his spine, your toes running down his calf muscles, squeezing him between your thighs as he gently thrusts into your body.

“I am thinking…. I am thinking how free I feel,” you confess breathily, pushing your breasts into his broad chest, undulating your hips to meet his, wanting him so deep inside you are altered in some way. “I can scream your name like I have wanted to for months…”

He groans loudly, capturing your lips in an artless, open-mouthed, desperate kiss, his hands hooked around your shoulders, using his forearms as leverage to pull you into his rhythm. “Please do, my love, please do…. I have longed to hear you let go completely….” he admits stutteringly.

“I cannot believe I had to sneak around for weeks with the man I was married to,” you giggle, recalling those heady weeks in summer when all was a secret.

He huffs a laugh into your throat, kissing there. “And I cannot believe my wife had to sleep in a separate bed from me for so long…” After his proposal, admittedly, you had moved to sharing his bedroom, but seeing as it was right next to Eloise’s, it has been many months of quiet intimacy. The autumn night being too cold to spend in the unheated summer house by the lake.

Your hands grab his shapely bottom and encourage his movements, harsher now, chasing that moment of bliss for you both.

“Never again….” you counter emphatically, twining yourself around him like a vine, never wanting to be separated from his naked body, for him to be inside you always, always….

“Never indeed….” he concurs, his voice gravelly and cracked with emotion as he spears deeper and makes you cry his name, the sound echoing up your living room walls.

—

As the winter months slip by, The Cottage, as you have both taken to calling it, is your constant refuge. And thanks to its smallholding farm, Anthony is able to pull strings and secure Benedict's status as exempt from military conscription, a relief you are thankful for every day.

Your home is a welcoming embrace when you step in from a rewarding but chilly day working in the drafty local village library—your insistence on wanting a job something Benedict never disputed. And his artistic career blossoms, too, each piece he completes becoming a hotly contested item at auction in London. A small conservatory attached to the back of the house transforms into his art studio, where he works most days crafting beautiful, lyrical landscapes that steal your breath with their scope and beauty.

And as much as your home is a place of peace, tranquillity and creativity, it is also filled with passion; many hours are spent in joyous lovemaking in any and every room of the house, the novelty still not wearing off for either of you, even months later.

Indeed, your staff, a benevolent, older married couple who become more akin to family, soon learn to turn a blind eye to any amorous activities they may unintentionally encounter. Including one unseasonably mild and memorable evening when they returned from dinner to find you upon the lawn, screaming at the dome of stars above—your nails scraping across Benedict’s scalp as he feasted between your legs.

—

It is a cold February morning when you blink awake to the melodic trill of a robin outside the dining room window. Benedict is fast asleep as you lay cocooned in his embrace under a blanket, embers glowing ashy white in the fireplace beside you. You must have fallen asleep here after a rather vigorous late-night session on your sturdy dining table—a nightcap becoming so much more, two drained whiskey tumblers still sitting upon the gleaming mahogany.

You smile at the memory, then turn your attention to the man wrapped around you, following your compulsion to map the raised veins on the back of his hand in front of your face. Your tongue trails those contours to the constellation of freckles on his forearm that you kiss. He is so fast asleep that he does not even seem to stir…

“Maam, a telegram has just come for you,” a tentative voice calls from the doorway as you startle.

You look up to see Mrs Crabtree, sweetly averting her eyes.

“Thank you, Mrs Crabtree,” you breeze, trying to conceal your slight embarrassment at having been caught red-handed kissing your slumbering husband’s arm rather covetously first thing in the morning.

She politely bustles over and drops the envelope next to you before making herself scarce. You peel open the message, then emit a wracking sigh as a warm pair of lips slide across your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, my love?” Benedict queries, voice rough from sleep.

Wordlessly, you hand him the telegram, his eyes scrunching slightly, attempting to read it without his glasses.

In it, your parents tersely remind you of the money outstanding to the vendors for your cancelled nuptials to Stanley and request you to send additional funds as soon as possible.

“You have been sending them money?” Benedict looks appalled.

“Yes,” you sigh, sheepish to confess to the one thing you have been keeping from him for a while now. “I have been using my income to wire back money in instalments.”

“Darling, they should not be asking you to do such a thing!” he argues, getting slightly agitated. “They were plenty rich enough to pay for their daughter to travel to Paris a few months ago! This feels rather too close to extortion…”

“I do not wish to be beholden to them, Benedict,” you answer fiercely, “for anything.”

He sees the fire in your eyes, and his face softens, nodding in understanding, always your greatest advocate. “May I at least pay them instead?” he offers. “I am the reason you are not marrying that man after all,” he reminds you with a dry chuckle, nuzzling your cheek before twisting to discard the telegram into the fireplace.

“I knew I was not marrying that man the moment I dropped that damn shoe,” a light-hearted giggle bubbling up as you push onto your hands to hover over Benedict, recalling with perfect clarity the moment you first clapped eyes on the man lying beneath you now.

“You did?” he lilts, a demure smile claiming his handsome features, a hand landing warm on the curve of your bottom under the blanket, encouraging you to settle on top of him.

“Even if nothing had ever happened between us, I suddenly knew what desire truly was,” you concede, a nostalgic pang to return to Paris with him, to experience its beauty mirrored in his hazy eyes again.

He chuckles warmly, looking up at you with gentle, hooded eyes as you feel something swelling between your bodies. “It was love at first sight for me,” he confesses tenderly.

“It was?” you gasp softly, smiling broadly, staring down at the man you cannot imagine your life without, touching his cheek reverentially.

“As I said when I proposed, I would marry you a hundred times over,” he enunciates slowly, assuredly, every cell of his being radiating his sincerity and desire.

“And I would to you, Mr Bridgerton,” you grin, leaning down to capture his lips and claim him for yourself, his breath a shocked staccato as he slides into your body for the first time without protection, so much heat and skin.

“Mrs Bridgerton,” he moans, his voice a symphony of wrecked and potent desire.

“Call me your wife,” you say breathlessly, pushing up to sit upon him, the blanket falling away from your back, your naked bodies glowing in the early morning light as you begin to move.

“Wife,” he calls, hands clamping firmly around your hips as you rise and sink upon him.

“Husband…” you call back and pull his left hand up to your face, sucking his wedding ring finger into his mouth as you stare down at him challengingly, knowing how aroused he gets when you use that word, the metal clinking against the ivory of your teeth as you shudder lightly around his stretching invasion.

This. This is all I want.

—

The following spring, May 1940, Paris is invaded.

You manage to reach Solène and are grateful to hear she is well, the occupation for the most part peaceful, if not odd and jarring. Life for you in rural Wiltshire, on the other hand, is idyllic, spring bringing life to your gardens, a riot of flowers, herbs and vegetables growing, beehives buzzing with life—a wondrous time that is indelible in your mind, even in your later years.

But, as with all things that are perhaps a shade too good, that temporary peace is shattered a couple of months later, an air and sea blockade beginning in July, followed shortly after by the Luftwaffe bombing military targets on the mainland. A resolute but stoic fear gripping the nation as summer drew on, knowing civilian targets would inevitably be next.

At the end of August, Anthony commands the rest of his family to evacuate Aubrey Hall, the location far too close to the French coast for his liking, knowing as an insider that matters could escalate within a matter of days rather than weeks. You receive word that the family are moving to stay with Daphne and Simon further north in Yorkshire. Well, all except one key person. Eloise.

Ever the rebel, she telegrams to tell you she has eloped with Phillip to Gretna Green, much to Anthony and Colin's (and now Benedict’s) chagrin, moving in with him defiantly, his home not far from Aubrey Hall. Instantly becoming a stepmother, too.

“Eloise, are you certain?” you implore into the telephone, September 4th, sitting in the office of the village library.

“About Phillip? Of course I am, you idiot!”

“Not that,” you wave an unseen dismissive hand. “I knew from that first night in Portsmouth you were as gone for him as I was for your brother…” you argue, her sneer at that evident even down the phone. “I meant remaining in Kent. It seems dangerous. Why don't you and Phillip come here to Wiltshire? At least for now? We have spare rooms, and you are most welcome to stay…” you appeal, chewing your cuticle nervously.

Last night, you and Benedict had agreed she would more likely take up an invitation extended by you than him.

“I’ll talk to Phillip,” she sniffs, which is the closest you will get to a thank you for the offer.

Two days later, Eloise, Phillip and his twins are at your doorstep, and not a moment too soon as the period, latterly known as The Blitz, begins the following night. Their home in Kent is spared, but the village school suffers some damage the following week and even without her saying a word, you can see the gratitude on her face as she watches the twins play safely in your back garden.

—

“Here you go, Amanda,” you smile down at the little girl, handing her a shiny metal star to hang on the Christmas tree.

Her toothy grin is adorable as she places it on a branch, giving herself a round of applause before running off to crawl into Eloise’s lap, who is busy making festive paper chains.

It is early December 1940, and the Cranes have been living with you for four months now; you imploring them to stay as the Blitz drags on. There has been bombing all over the country, primarily larger cities, but rural Wiltshire feels as safe of a bet as anywhere, not under the Nazi flight path to London in the same way that Kent is.

Strong, warm arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you smile to yourself as Benedict crowds into you, admiring your handiwork on the tree.

“It looks beautiful, y/n,” he opines sweetly, bussing a kiss onto your temple.

“Thank you, my love,” you reply, swaying gently in his arms, watching the children giggle as they throw strands of paper in the air; Eloise’s appeal to them not to do so falling on deaf ears, her expression one of fond exasperation.

“I never thought I would see the day…. Eloise Bridgerton, a mother,” you chuckle quietly as he joins in.

“Believe me, as her brother, I feel sorry for those children every day,” he jests. “But even I have to admit she has taken to it better than any of my other siblings, to be honest,” pausing before pulling you tighter into his embrace. “And what say you to children, Mrs Bridgerton?” he queries, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice suddenly silky, that tone that has a frisson running down your spine.

“I say maybe, Mr Bridgerton, just maybe…” you respond breezily over the strain of carol singers from the wireless Phillips flips on, feeling the lightness of hope in your being - that one day, just one day, this war will be over, and the world will be free again.

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sister-lucifer · 11 months ago

Text

READ PART TWO HERE

Genre: Fluff, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and you and Tim are stuck inside the cabin together. You can’t sleep because of the thunder, and decide to see if Tim can help you out.

Content/Warnings: Gender neutral reader, brief mentions of alcohol, uh…if you can think of anything else let me know! This is pretty damn soft, but actually not explicitly romantic.

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Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

You don’t really notice the sound of the rain against the windows anymore. It’s been raining nonstop since, what, 7 AM this morning? Its not quite storming, at least not yet, but everything is soaked, and you can hardly even walk out onto the patio without your shoes filling with water. It’s dreary, sure, but not exactly unpleasant. It’s a good day to stay in, that’s all.

You shift your sitting position a bit, wrapping one of the woven blankets from the back of the couch around your shoulders as you gaze out the window. You’re not really expecting to see anything, it’s just trees and trees for miles around, but you always seem to find yourself gazing out into the endless pines. You only turn away when you hear Tim sit down in the recliner, sighing lazily as he puts his feet up. This is a sight you’ve seen many times: A few strands of hair falling between his eyes, an old flannel half unbuttoned over a stained white tank, a beer can in one hand and a nearly finished cigarette in the other. It’s practically Tim’s natural state.

He takes one last drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ash tray he keeps on the end table, chasing the smoke with a sip of his beer before that, too, is set aside. He glances out the window, whistling softly.

“Ain’t nobody goin’ out in that weather,” He drawls, “Nobody with half a mind, anyhow.”

You nod in agreement, taking a little sip of your hot cocoa. It’s a wonderful way to keep warm in this homely old cabin.

You glance over at Tim, who is now absentmindedly flipping through TV channels. He’s probably looking for sports or Storage Wars or something, you think. Some old man show you’ll never find interest in.

As you look at him a bit longer, just spacing out a bit with your eyes on his face, your mind meanders back to before you two were this comfortable with each other. It feels weird to think about that now, though. You couldn’t imagine being in that place again.

Tim’s told you before that you reminded him of himself when he was a younger, when he was ‘new and green’ as he’d say. You were a wide eyed, scared kid, just like he was. You deserved to be living in a dorm somewhere, getting shitfaced at college parties and making choices you’ll regret the next morning but laugh at for years, not to be forced to cope with this reality. No one deserves it, really, to wake up in an unfamiliar place surrounded only by endless woods, no one and nothing around to help you and your body aching all over with injuries you don’t recall getting.

He knows that feeling.

He’s never felt worse. Neither have you. It’s hard to get worse than that, really.

You were still a bit dazed when he first helped you back to his cabin, but something about the worn walls and cozy, lived-in feeling of the old rugs and antique furniture told you you were safe, at least for now. You were out the second your head hit the pillow. You slept for nearly two days straight. You really needed it.

Since then you’ve been a permanent fixture in Tim’s life. You don’t really leave the cabin, and you’ve never left alone. Tim says it’s just until you can find a job and a place of your own, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to kick you out. You’re thankful for that, of course, but you can’t help but smile every time he insists that this is only a temporary situation, that if you don’t get off your ass he’ll quite literally throw you to the wolves, but he always smiles too. You’re definitely on the same page, and the headline says you’re not going anywhere.

The rainy day melts into a rainy afternoon, then an evening, then a quiet night. The rain has slowed down a bit, but now the thunder has rolled in, and every ten or fifteen seconds or so you can hear it clapping loudly overhead. The sound is a bit more…penetrating than usual, a bit more raucous, and far more bothersome. You’re not sure why. The only thing you are sure of is that your once comforting outdoor ambience is really ticking you off.

You sit up with a yawn, glancing at the clock and groaning with annoyance when you see it’s already passed 2:00 AM. Damn, you’ve been lying here a while, and still no luck getting to sleep.

The thunder crashes outside once more, making you roll your eyes. It’s mocking you, you think, poking and prodding in an attempt to get a reaction. You simply sit there for a few moments, debating turning your TV on or reading a book to tire yourself a bit more, but neither of those are particularly attractive options at the moment. You bring your knees up and rest your head on them, half lidded eyes lazily wandering around your dark room. It looks the same as usual, no surprise there, but when you look down the hallway you notice that Tim’s door is cracked open.

Hm. Odd. He never leaves it open. Must’ve stumbled off to bed and failed to realize he didn’t close it all the way.

It’s not a big deal at all, really, but the light of his TV leaking out through the cracked door paired with the noise of the thunder gives you an idea.

You slowly slip out of bed, cringing a bit when your feet hit the cold wood. You’re as quiet as you can be, avoiding all the floorboards you know will squeak. There’s really no point, Tim sleeps like a rock most nights, especially if he’s been drinking, but you figure you’re better off safe than sorry.

You make your way to his door, pushing it open just a bit to peek inside. You wince when the door creaks unbearably loudly, but Tim doesn’t move a muscle. He’s sprawled out like a starfish on his bed, limbs in all directions and his single blanket only half covering his body. He looks foolish, but in a charming sort of way. He’s even snoring a bit.

You cautiously make your way to his bedside, watching him for any sign of consciousness. You don’t want to startle him. Even if he didn’t mean to, he could really hurt you if he thought you were a threat, though at the moment he’s not very intimidating. His sweatpants are ratty, there’s no hiding his dad bod in that old sports tee, and his face is illuminated by the cheesy sitcom he left on; not exactly the pinnacle of danger.

You step up to his bed, debating what to do. You should wake him gently, it reduces the risk of injury, but how do you gently wake someone who could sleep through an aerial assault?

“…Pssst, Tim?” You whisper, but get no response. You repeat yourself, a bit louder this time.

“Tim, wake up.”

He stirs a bit, but all you get is a groan and a minute twitch of his eye. Dammit.

You sigh and roll your eyes with annoyance, reaching out to softly shake his shoulder.

“Tim, it’s me. Wake up.”

He lazily swats your hand away, groaning again and mumbling a reply without even opening his eyes.

“Whaddya want, kid…?” He asks, practically chewing his words.

“I can’t sleep,” You respond simply, giving a little shrug. Tim is not amused at this answer.

“And why does this have to involve me?” He huffs, glancing at you for a moment before his eyes close again. He turns onto his side towards you, yawning as he tries to pull his blanket back up.

You don’t really have an answer to that one. Why did you feel the need to come in here and wake Tim up? It’s not like he controls the thunder. It’s not like he controls your inability to sleep…

…But maybe he can help.

“I can’t sleep,” You explain, trying to figure out how to word your request without sounding stupid, “The thunder is too loud. I thought maybe I could…you know…”

Tim’s eyes finally open, for real. He raises a brow at you, and for a moment you fear you’ve overstepped, but his expression shifts to tired once more as he turns onto his back again.

“Kid,” He mutters, clearly annoyed but trying to be gentle, “If you’re old enough to share a beer with me, you are definitely too damn old to be running into my bed ‘cause you’re scared of a li’l thunder.”

“I’m not scared,” You quickly protest, “It’s just too loud for me to sleep. I didn’t know what else to do, I just thought…”

You trail off. You’re not really sure what you thought.

“…Never mind.”

You turn to walk away, hoping he’ll be too tired to remember this in the morning. You’re in the doorway when his gruff voice stops you.

“Wait, wait,” He drawls, sleepily waving you over without moving from where he’s lying, “Get back here, I ain’t chasin’ ya off…”

You pause at that, then slowly walk back to his bed. He��s silent, and for a few moments unmoving, but then he scoots over a bit, patting the bed next to him.

“C’mon.”

You sigh in relief, happy to see Tim responding at least somewhat positively. You climb into bed next to him, though you’re careful not to get too close to him. You and Tim don’t really do physical contact beyond a high five for a job well done.

That’s what makes it all the more surprising when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side but making sure to be gentle, giving you ample opportunity to pull away if you need to. You don’t.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, keeping his eyes closed and his face towards the ceiling, his free hand idly resting over his stomach.

“…You ain’t too scared, are ya?” He drawls. You’re confused for a moment, but then the thunder sounds again and you realize what he means. You hadn’t even noticed the thunder since you walked in. It was nice.

“No, I’m fine, really,” You insist, “I’m not scared, it’s just hard to sleep with the noise. It’s more annoying than anything else.”

He gives a grunt of acknowledgment.

“You get on to sleep, then. Ain’t no reason for you to be tired tomorrow.”

You nod, moving a bit closer to him. He, in turn, wraps him arm a bit tighter around you. It feels…nice. Foreign, yes, but far from unpleasant. He smells like pine trees and faded Old Spice cologne.

You yawn softly, pulling the blanket up over the two of you as you get comfortable. A comfortable silence settles over you both as the sound of the thunder mixed with the blurry noise of the TV. You’re the first to break it, a question falling from your lips before you can really think of stopping it.

“…You were worried I was afraid?”

Tim shrugs, scratching at his stubble as he answers.

“I mean, I guess…I just wanted to make sure, ya know? Make sure you didn’t need me to do nothing to make you feel better…”

That makes you smile.

“Didn’t think you’d care that much…” You murmur with a hint of a giggle.

“Don’t be stupid,” Tim quickly snaps, “Course I care. I care about you. Ain’t no way for me not to. I’ve cared about you since the second I took you in. You’re not that young, I know, but back then you were just a kid to me. You’ve matured since then, yeah, but I’ll never forget the way you looked when I found you wandering the trail that day…”

“Yeah, yeah, and you remember when I was three apples tall, I get it,” You tease with a playful laugh. Tim can’t help but chuckle, giving you a little squeeze.

“Can it, ya little shit. You know what I’m sayin’. I knew what I was doin’ when I let you into my home, I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t care.”

He’s got a point there. Most of the time Tim’s number one priority is self preservation. He rarely goes out of his way to do anything that doesn’t directly benefit him. He must’ve seen something in you absolutely worth the trouble. What exactly it is you’ll never know, but you’re certainly happy with where it’s gotten you.

You turn to him a bit, giving him a tired smile. He turns to you as though he can sense your stare, cracking open one eye to return your smile before laying his head back again.

“Alright, alright, ‘nuff yammerin’. Go to sleep,” He orders, reaching over to ruffle your hair before his hand rests back on his stomach. He never was good at being strict.

You stretch a bit before settling into your spot, getting as comfortable as you can so that you won’t have to shift around and risk bothering or waking up Tim later on. He hasn’t moved a muscle, his breathing already slowed and all of his muscles relaxed for once. It’s an odd sight, really. Usually he’s always holding some tension in his brow or jaw or shoulders, but he’s completely relaxed now, as are you. You finally feel like you could fall asleep.

“Night,” You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Tim’s southern drawl ringing in your ears.

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

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