#also all the best for you and your recovery journey

[pepperyduck]

growing old with kento nanami

word count: 2.8k

warnings: post-shibuya arc, descriptions of: surgery, recovery processes, depression, insomnia, trauma, therapy, coping mechanisms; pregnancy, marriage, crying. (18+ mdni!)

notes: this WILL have a part 2 and maybe 3! it will be very long so i'm splitting it up. even though the warnings seem kind of sad i promise it's a happy story :)

part 2 | masterlist

“marry me.”

proposing to you was nanami’s first conscious thought after being in a coma for 5 days after shibuya. you were reading a book, peacefully keeping him company in his hospital room, not even noticing he was awake. your eyes fluttered up from your book, back down, and then up again.

“marry me, please,” he repeated. you stayed silent for a moment, eyes widening and mouth dropping. he wasn’t supposed to wake up.

“kento, oh my god,” you yelped, dropping your book and rushing to the hospital bed to look at him. his eyes were open, only slightly, and the weakest smile he could bear rested on his lips. you gently settled your hands on each side of his face, barely hovering over the charred skin. he looked so tired, and yet, he was asking you to marry him.

kento groaned when you hugged him, but you couldn’t stop yourself, you squeezed him gently and with care. a weak hand rested on your back, in between your shoulder blades. he was too weak to repeat his question again. but the only thing on his mind was if you would be his wife.

“yes, yes, i’ll marry you,” you cried into his chest, wetting the fabric of the hospital clothing.

neither you nor nanami himself understood why he proposed to you in that moment. after waking up, his journey to recovery began with slow but steady progress. it took several months of intense rehabilitation and support from both sorcerers and doctors for him to regain his mobility. with their help, he was able to walk and move with a surprising degree of agility, nearly returning to how he was before shibuya. he also had a few cosmetic surgeries, in an attempt to minimize the scarring from all he had been through. within a few months, he was able to see his skin smooth out and hair grow from the side of his head. he wouldn’t look the same, ever; but you didn’t care. you loved kento, as he did you, the fact you were able to celebrate his recovery made you feel like the luckiest woman on the earth.

the loss of his previous strength and abilities weighed heavily on him, casting a shadow over his spirits. yet, amidst the struggles, he found solace in small victories and the support of those around him, your support meaning the most to him. although kento was deeply troubled by the realization that he could no longer pursue his life as a sorcerer, he came to accept it as the best possible outcome given the circumstances. this acceptance marked a pivotal shift in his perspective, allowing him to focus on rebuilding his life in new ways. before he turned in his resignation, he had made sure to recommend ino for a promotion. it was his last wish as a sorcerer.

after the almost year-long recovery process, kento surprised you with a beautiful ring, one of the ones you had talked about before he went on his trip. he proposed again, in the place you first met, this time without weak hands and barely audible words. he was able to find a job, one not nearly as draining as his job from before he returned to jujutsu – and began making plans for your wedding. the planning process didn’t take long, he wanted the wedding to make you happy.

your and kento’s wedding was outright beautiful. it was a stunning venue on a beach, hundreds of guests attended, friends and family alike. kento shed a few tears when he saw you walking down the aisle, clad in the most gorgeous attire he’d ever seen you wear, as his bride. his voice shook as he said his vows – vows that he wrote, almost a good 1,000 words – and he made you a million promises. promises he wouldn’t dare to break, promises to grow old together and live the life you both deserve.

at the reception, you told kento you had a surprise for him, and ran off to go get something from one of your bridesmaids. he was confused at first, because he didn’t need any more surprises, he was the happiest he’d ever been. a newlywed, married to you. but when you came back to the table, two small pieces of paper in your hands, he didn’t think it would be possible to be more joyous.

“we’re going to malaysia, for our honeymoon, kento,” you excitedly told him, showing off the two plane tickets scheduled in a week.

nanami was speechless, a huge smile with teeth plastered across his face, and he gave you the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone.

when the two of you traveled to malaysia, kento was at peace. he had never seen a place so charming and breathtaking, he remained entranced by the culture and landscapes. the two of you spent your time hiking in nature, watching waterfalls and having lovely picnics wherever felt right. kento was so ecstatic, a smile constant on his face as he watched his surroundings with never-ending wonder. he thanked you a million times over.

you had never seen him be so alive. he promised you that one day, he was going to build a house, right on the beach, just for the two of you.

once you were back at your shared apartment, the reality of the past year and a half hit kento like a train. so much time had been spent recovering, constantly in and out of the hospital, planning for your wedding and improving both of your lives, he never had a chance to reflect on the genuine trauma he went through.

you didn’t notice for a while, but kento grew depressed, and restless at the same time. he began to spend his nights awake, insomnia brewing like piping hot tea, staying conscious until the early hours of the morning, doing any exercise or meditation to calm himself down and go to sleep. yet the visuals replayed over, and over, and over. the blood, the curses, the flames, the death. it hadn’t bothered him before, he thought, but he just never gave himself the time to soak it all in. and the depression – the depression was an all-new low for him. when kento wasn’t working, he was at his house, in the bed, while you were working or off running errands. you only noticed his new behavior when you woke up in an empty bed at 4 a.m. one night, 3 months after your honeymoon.

“mm…kento?” you called, footsteps heavily plopping down the hallway towards the bright lights of your kitchen. when you entered the room, you saw kento sprawled out on the floor, knees bent, with sweat rolling down his forehead. stepping over towards him, you kneeled down to look at him, and his head rolled to the side to look at you, too.

kento’s eyes looked so tired, the eyebags you hadn’t seen in years were full-fledged, his eyelids were droopy and exhausted. just by the emotion his eyes conveyed, you could see he was silently suffering, and he had been that way for a while.

“kento, what’s wrong?” you asked, bringing a hand to the side of his face to rub a thumb over his sweat-glistened cheek.

“i don’t…know,” he replied, defeat in his voice, “i can’t sleep. i haven’t slept. i don’t know.”

your husband always had a plan. he always knew everything; he always took care of the unknown and intimidating parts of life. for kento nanami to say “i don’t know” meant something was wrong, seriously wrong.

“sit up,” you softly demanded, gently pulling his shoulders off the floor. you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and kento mirrored your actions, slumping when he finally sat up. “kento, honey,” you began, taking his hand in yours and resting it on his knee, “what’s going on?”

he was never one to talk about feelings, to talk about emotions felt deep down, because he wasn’t sure how to convey anything that would make him vulnerable. but as he sat in front of you, chest slightly heaving, such a burnt-out expression on his face, you knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but that something needed to be said.

“i can’t…” kento muttered, stopping himself for a second, “i can’t stop thinking.” he finally admitted, causing you to furrow your eyebrows with concern.

“about what, honey?” you sweetly asked, thumb caressing the back of his hand, tenderly rubbing back and forth.

“everything.” he stated, eyes flashing away from you to look at the floor next to him. you knew what he meant, though, but you had never seen him so pained from his work, especially from something that happened so long ago.

“tell me, baby,” you soothed him. you grabbed his other hand, causing him to look back at you pitifully. kento stayed silent for numerous moments, unsure as to what you could handle. but you were his wife, someone he was supposed to be able to confide in.

“so many people…died…” he mumbled, “i almost died. i saw what it looked like, i faced death.” his words began to come out quicker, “i’ve never seen that many people die, not even in shinjuku, and there was so much blood, and gojo almost, he almost-,” kento’s voice began to get shaky and uneven, a crack in his words as tears stung his eyes. “gojo almost died, too, and…i almost died, i saw it,” he repeated, “and yuuji – looked so upset, and takuma got hurt,” he clenched his eyes shut, words still coming out as a single string.

you moved closer, shifting onto your knees and wrapping kento in a comforting embrace. he clung to you immediately, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if trying to anchor himself in reality. his body shook with the intensity of his sobs, each breath coming in ragged gasps. the rawness of his anguish was palpable; his cries were filled with a pain that seemed almost too immense to bear. the image of the carnage replayed in his mind, a relentless cycle that he couldn’t escape. kento’s tears soaked through your shirt, repeating with his incoherent murmurs of horror. his face, once so composed, now twisted in an expression of deep, unrelenting despair.

kento wailed into your chest for hours that night, unable to stop his shuttering and repetition of the same phrases. he only calmed down when the sun began to rise, slowly illuminating the insides of your home. once kento parted his head from your chest, he looked you in the eyes, asking for help without saying a word. you wiped away his tears and grabbed the sides of his face, promising him you will get him anything he needs. kento fell asleep around 7 a.m. that morning, with the help of you running your fingers through his hair, shushing him and telling him it will all be okay.

he believed you. kento nanami put all his faith in you, his wife, to help him fix his problem he hadn’t an idea on how to mend. and so, you did everything in your power to help him. you spent countless hours on research, finding therapists that specialized in helping people like him, and you came across different mechanisms to help him cope. most of all, you continued your duties as a supportive wife, constantly telling him to get up and go to the supermarket, or out to the library. little by little, these smaller things combined together to work out, and kento began to get better. it was a breath of fresh air, as well as a weight lifted off both your and his shoulders, when he began to smile again, and shifted his view of life to a more positive outlook. he was alive, he began to feel alive again.

kento nanami was finally beginning to live the life he desired and deserved, all with you by his side.

a couple of weeks after kento’s 30th birthday, you came rushing into his office, tears of joy — and anxiety — pricked in your eyes. soon as his eyes landed on your seemingly upset expression, he was concerned.

“what’s wrong, dear?” he asked, pushing his chair away from the desk to stand up. you quickly closed the door behind you, leaning against it, and you dug around in your purse to pull out a small plastic baggie. when you tossed them to kento, it only took him a few seconds to realize what you were there to tell him.

“…you’re pregnant?” kento beamed, rushing over to you to wrap his arms around your waist. he quickly lifted you up in the air, grip so tight as if he never wanted to let go, your feet kicked happily.

kento always wanted to have kids, but being a sorcerer, he always thought it was too dangerous. you had some conversations about it after shibuya, and the both of you agreed that if it happened, it happened. and your children would have the best life possible, of course; but the glimmer of hope you had for having kids slowly burnt out over time with both of you increasing in age. in that moment, though, kento had so much hope and pure happiness, just at the thought of growing a little family with you.

the first few months of your pregnancy were hectic. between doctor’s appointments, mixed with morning sickness and fatigue, you thought it would never end. although you were happy to start a family, negative emotions easily overcame you, and kento noticed. he tried his best to be there for you, but his work schedule conflicted with your lives, and he soon realized he needed a change in his life. he needed to change your life and his, because he would be damned if he was going to return to the same boring life as he had before.

using his savings and bonus money from his job, he bought you a house. a real house, with acres of land and space for your family to grow, so much bigger than the previous apartment you shared with him. a house that he owned, a house that would contain all the joy for your future. he made sure it was grand, with a huge kitchen, and multiple bedrooms – not caring if only two of them were filled, or if all of them housed someone. before kento showed you the house, he set up a nursery.

“where are we going?” you inquired for about the 50th time that day. you had been in the car for hours, and all kento would say in return is, “you’ll find out.” nonetheless, you were excited, kento had always given you the best surprises, but you had never driven so far with him.

“we’re here.” kento stated, pulling into an empty concrete driveway big enough to fit 6 cars.

“where are we? did satoru move?” you asked, the huge display of a home proving to be a bit intimidating for you. kento didn’t reply this time, he only scurried out of the car to come and open your door, helping you get out with a kind hand.

you didn’t even understand what was going on until you walked up the front steps, and a few keys jingled in kento’s hands until he found the right one to unlock the door. the door to your new home.

“wait...wait. kento,” you said, standing still as your husband strode inside, “what is this?” the familiar tears of joy rushed to your eyes, and you just stood there with a shocked expression plastered on your face.

“this is our new home, honey,” kento chimed, reaching a hand out again to welcome you inside. you took his hand, albeit a little hesitantly, and stepped inside your house.

“oh, kento,” you blubbered, throwing your arms around his neck, tears beginning to trickle down your face.

you and kento explored the house for hours, marveling at all the space and beauty he bought for you. you thanked him a million times over, crying at each new space you discovered in the house, you felt sheer gratefulness for your husband and all he did for you. and kento, well, he did all of it to thank you, to thank you for never losing hope in him, and to thank you for the joy you’d made him experience. he was so undeniably in love with you, just as he had always been, and he promised himself he was going to do everything in his power to live the life he deserved with you. he was going to live up to every word he made in his vows, every promise he made with you, each and every word he had spoken to you was going to show in your lives.

even from the moment he met you, he knew he was going to spend his life with you.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @starlightanyaaa @lagataprrr @hazzelle-kento

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[queertransetc]

- ED trigger warning -

Being skinny ruined my life. If you’re thin and think to yourself, “why don’t fat people just lose weight?” Please read this

I was the “ideal fat” in the sense that I did everything skinny people wanted me to do. I tried every diet in the book. I exercised regularly. I worked with doctors and dietitians to figure out the best way to lose weight. But nothing worked. I did everything “right” to lose weight, and my weight stayed the same

But the thin people in my life kept telling me that I wouldn’t be happy, attractive, healthy, etc. until I lost weight. So, heartbroken, I came to the conclusion that anorexia was the only option left. It felt safer than bariatric surgery, and was obviously much more affordable

I became the perfect anorexic. 700 cal a day or less, except once a week I allowed myself 1400 cal. For reference, my body required at least 2800 to maintain weight, and at least 1800 to keep my organs and stuff fully functioning. Still, 700 a day, I persisted because everyone in my life told me weight loss was all that mattered. If dieting didn’t work, anorexia had to

And it did. My weight dropped all the way down to 110 pounds. I was skinny - underweight, even - in all sense of the word. The people in my life saw it as a miracle. The ultimate success story. My mother, my “friends,” my doctors, they all congratulated me on my accomplishment

When I confessed my eating disorder to my doctor, he told me, “that’s not the best way to go about it, but I’m glad you lost the weight.” My mother took pictures of me and sent them to relatives to brag

Okay, great. I was skinny. I did what I set out to do. But there were severe consequences

The most obvious was my joint pain doubled, maybe even tripled, to the point that I couldn’t leave the house without a wheelchair

I also developed several health complications, including fatty liver disease and extremely painful GERD. I had to see a handful of specialists and get an endoscopy because of severe stomach pain

My partner, who was the only person who saw my weight loss for what it was (a horrible thing that only happened because of an eating disorder), convinced me to enter a recovery program

For nearly a year, I relearned how to feed myself. I ate everything I was told to eat, nothing more and nothing less. My diet was 100% in the hands of somebody else

And I gained back every pound I has lost. All of the work to become thin went right out the window. It was proven to me that thinness and health were incompatible with my body. If I wanted to be thin, I had to forgo my physical and mental well-being. And vise-versa

Prior to the anorexia, I never once struggled with binge eating. I was naturally an intuitive eater, and I did a good job of having a well rounded diet. After the anorexia, after recovery, I developed a binge eating disorder. I had spent so long starving myself, that my brain and body got stuck in survival mode, desperate to consume any and all calories out of fear that I might starve again. To this day I struggle with binge eating

I did everything thin people wanted of me. I dieted. I exercised. And when all else failed, I starved myself. Now I have liver disease, stomach issues, and BED. Not to mention the loads of mental issues that accumulated as a result of my weight loss journey. During the throes of my anorexia, I had to be hospitalized for suicidal ideation

When you tell fat people to “just lose weight” you are suggesting they give themselves illnesses for which treatments are not always effective. You are asking fat people to destroy their stomachs and livers. When a fat person loses so much weight that they become skinny, they are likely giving up so much of their health in efforts to be treated like a human being

If you’re thin, do your part. Treat fat people like people before we tear our bodies apart

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀✸⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀𝓒hapter 16⠀﹚⠀ა ︎ ﾞ .

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀time has passed and your pregnancy has progressed, meaning you’re starting to show. the wedding of peter and mj has arrived, you are the maid of honor. unfortunately, miguel is the best man. an awkward ceremony for you both.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, brief religious themes (mention of churches), emotional distress, swearing, mild arguments, mild violence, jealous!miguel (yessir hehe)

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

several weeks have passed and your pregnancy has progressed. you’re starting to show, a little baby bump. the sight always makes you smile, knowing your little bundle of joy rests in there. since your decision of keeping the baby, you’ve been happy. you’ve been searching baby clothes and nursery stuff nonstop. you created a nursery pinterest board of cute nursery ideas. aesthetics are your thing so you have been searching for both boy and girl themes but also neutral themes as well. so many cute and creative ideas, you have over 200 pins saved.

since this new turn in your life, you have also been thriving. work has been good, publishing top worthy articles which leaves a very pleased jameson praising everyone in the office and offering cookies. that surprised everyone to see their grumpy, sassy ass boss so cheerful but they didn’t complain. happy boss, happy work life. one day you even got sent home early, crusty from your work because he was very happy, and there was no way you would decline that offer. you also informed jameson of your pregnancy and future maternity leave which he of course grants and congratulates you with the baby.

you finally told your family about the baby, which created a cheerful screaming and hugging apocalypse. another grand baby for the family. there were questions about the father but you avoided answering or say it’s complicated. however, you did tell the truth to your parents because you can never lie to them. they wanted to kill miguel but the last thing they want is to complicate things than they already are. instead, they support you and the baby as the caring parents and grandparents they are.

while you’ve thriving on the new journey, miguel still lingers in your mind. his number is blocked to prevent further communication of regret and lame ass apologies. you’ve also taken further lengths such as blocking any social media accounts of his. that bastard deserves tasting his own medicine. he doesn’t know you’re staying at anne’s but is aware you aren’t home. your friends vowed to never tell miguel your whereabouts. although, they would tell you how upset he was whenever they encountered him and begs to them to know where you are. your reaction was scoffing and rolling your eyes. know the asshole knows how it feels, fucking irony at its best.

however, a part of you deep down misses him. after weeks of not seeing him, you felt a bit of relief when miguel finally returned. you truly believed he would never come back and didn’t want to be involved with the baby, that it was the end of your relationship. technically it was the end and it hurts to admit that. seeing him for the first time after those painful weeks made you want to run into his arms and cry. don’t be mistaken, you’re still fucking pissed at him. but that doesn’t discard your feelings for him, the love you have for him that still lingers in your fragile heart. no matter how much you hate miguel, a small part of you still loves him. that is the shittest part of all.

no matter the pain he caused you, that love never vanished. that proves how deeply you love miguel and the impact he made in your life. love is a fucked up thing. you’ve already learned two lessons about it. the first broken your heart, the second rotten it. how could it ever be repaired from such damage? it will be a long, difficult recovery but you’ll get there eventually. this baby will restore your heart.

moving on with life, major events are happening. first and foremost, the wedding of peter and mary jane.

the long anticipated ceremony has finally arrived. the day your best friend marries the love of her life, who is also your friend. you all have been excited for this day to come. originally the ceremony was going to be taken place at a church but mary jane wanted an outdoor wedding and peter had no problem with that, he liked that better anyways. a simple outdoor wedding decorated in neutral colors.

it’s a big day for peter and mj but also for everyone, including you since you’re the maid of honor. since you’re pregnant and have a tiny baby bump, you had to get a size up of your dress to accommodate your gradually expanding belly. it’s still tiny but visible which you don’t mind. the dress matches with the theme, a pretty ash gray satin mermaid tail gown. you and the girls get ready as well help mary jane get dressed in her wedding gown. you and anne assist her getting the dress on, lyla did her makeup and styled her hair. just a cute girls moment, dressing up and doing each other’s makeup.

after doing the finial touches on mj’s appearance, you all step back to admire the bride’s final form. the three of you stare in awe of your beautiful friend. the gown, hair, and makeup, it’s all perfect.

“you look so beautiful.” lyla smiles with glossy eyes.

“honey, you look like an angel.” anne compliments.

“the most gorgeous bride ever.” you add.

mj began forming up her own tears. “aww you guys!”

“no no no! don’t cry! the makeup!” lyla warns.

the bride softly chuckles, fanning herself so the tears dry up and not ruin the perfect makeup. “i’m trying not to, just can’t help it sometimes.”

the four of you gather together in a group hug, letting out all the emotions without tears.

“you guys look beautiful too.” mj gestures at the matching bridesmaids gowns.

“especially ms. maid of honor here.” lyla gently nudges your shoulder playfully.

you roll your eyes, unable to not smile. “oh shut up. the spotlight is supposed to be on mj, not me.”

“whaaat? i can’t help it how cute your little baby bump looks in that dress!” the short-haired woman gestures at your brief pregnancy belly.

“how’s the baby doing?” anne asks.

“they’re okay, just chilling in there.”

“they’ll definitely love the food and cake later.”

you snort. “don’t doubt it, we’ll see what they like and don’t like tonight.”

“too bad you can’t drink, you’ll be missing out on all the good shit, especially the wine.” lyla jokes.

“gotta make sacrifices.” you shrug, laughing.

“and it’s worth the sacrifice.” mj approaches you and gently takes her hands in yours. “you are so rocking this little baby bump, i’m glad they’re a part of my wedding, even though they’re unborn.” her kind words about your baby makes your heart warm.

“yeah, too bad miguel isn’t here to see it.” lyla said.

“wait— isn’t miguel here?” anne inquires, making the room go silent. “isn’t he the best man?”

oh shit.

miguel is the best man. peter chose him to be his best man since they are friends since high school. he is the best man and you’re the maid of honor, meaning you have to walk down the aisle together.

oh fuck, you completely forgot.

you suddenly feel your heart drop at the realization. you have to walk down the aisle with the man broke, rotten your heart. the man who left you alone for three weeks without communication. the man who betrayed your heart and trust. the deeper you think, the heavier your breathing becomes.

your three friends look at you with concerned looks, approaching your carefully.

“hey, you okay?” anne places a gentle hand on your arm, bringing you back to your senses.

“yeah, yeah i’m fine.” you quickly reassure them, waving it off. “just forgot about that…”

“are you sure? mj asks, a serious glint in her eyes. “if that makes you uncomfortable, we can him switch out for someone else or we can—”

“no no no, no switching around. it’s totally okay, don’t worry about it, please.”

“honey, i’m not allowing that asshole near you and the baby. i’ll gladly ask peter for eddie or harry to take his place by any means necessary.”

you shake your head. “no, mj please. i’m not allowing my shit interfere with your wedding. this is your special day and i will not allow my personal shit to ruin that, no fucking way. please don’t worry about it, i’ll be fine and it’s only a few seconds then we go our separate ways. the baby and i will be okay.”

the room goes silent as your words sink in. you can tell she heavily disagrees, so does lyla and anne, but accepts it. the three of them trust you and promise to keep a cautious eye on miguel at all times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the wedding is about to start. the bridesmaids and groomsmen are called to gather for the ceremony. you are the first one ready and walk to the door that leads to the backyard where everyone is sitting and waiting. as you make your way towards the door, there is already someone else waiting in the small room. you recognize that tall, broad figure and chocolate locks of hair any day. suddenly, your blood went cold and heart rate increases.

the clicking of your heels gave you away as miguel turns around a little too excitedly. his eyes widen and lips part open in pure astonishment. those wide brown eyes trail over your appearance, how the ash green compliments your skin tone beautifully, how the dress captures your curves perfectly. your beauty never fails to take his breath away.

but really captures his attention is the tiny visible baby bump wrapped in ash green.

you’re starting to show. it’s so tiny yet visible, visual evidence of the tiny life growing inside you. the tiny life that will become a combination of you and him.

the guilt strikes in like a knife.

his heart beats in both guilt and glee.

guilt because of the pain he caused you and glee because of the baby is finally shining through.

this is first time he sees you after a month and a half. since your argument and your disappearance, miguel has been drowning himself in guilt and shame more than ever. it’s been eating him alive. he has shed so much tears than he could count. your disappearance left him a mess. he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he stopped visiting the boxing gym because he never left his home, he didn’t bother to shave due to no motivation so miguel had a stubble for a while.

he was so dysfunctional because he lost you.

now here you are, a month and a half later, standing in front of him like a fucking goddess while he still feels like an absolute piece of shit.

“you… you look… beautiful…”

his weak ass tone and attempt to be flattering makes you roll your eyes in disgust. unfortunately, you can’t deny that miguel looks handsome in that tux. how it snugs up his broad shoulders. those brown locks slicked back, unlike its usual waviness. the intoxicating scent of his cologne, musky. the scent that you love and drives you fucking crazy.

it was an uncomfortable… painful silence between you two as you wait for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to arrive, standing at opposite ends with great distance. you glance around anywhere to avoid his gaze while miguel struggles internally what else to say and simply admire you in silence. his palms opening and closing as a sign of anxiety.

his eyes admire you with remorse while yours look out the window at the crowd of people waiting for the ceremony to begin. with an anxious breath, miguel takes slow caution steps toward you, reaching out with a shaky hand but you catch him.

“don’t you fucking touch me.” you snap.

panicky, miguel immediately takes back his hand and stops, still leaving reasonable space between you two as he stares at you with remorseful eyes.

“i-i’m sorry, i just—”

“cállete.”

and he does.

your fingers rub the temples of your forehead as you exhale deeply. “mj wanted to switch you out with the other guys so i wouldn’t have to walk with you.”

miguel frowns at that but remains silent.

“but i told her no because i didn’t want ruin her wedding because of me.” you spare him a glance as you lower your hand. “peter chose you to be his best man and switching you with someone else would’ve made things complicated and i didn’t want that.”

that makes him feel more guilty. the last thing you want is to walk down the aisle with the man who broke your heart indefinitely yet you refuse to change that because your friends are much more important than your own needs and discomfort.

“so i’m going to say this once,” you glare at him, making him anxious for what you’re about to propose. “the only time you’re gonna touch me is walking down that aisle for our friends. don’t even think this means anything. the minute we part ways, you stay the fuck away from me.”

your cold tone and piecing eyes of anger sends an unpleasant shiver down miguel’s spine. he understands your reasons and obeys, no matter how much it pains him to be in the same room as you but not able to be close to you. he doesn’t deserve to. a light nod reflects his understanding, sealing the deal.

the bridesmaids and groomsmen finally arrive. lyla and anne kept skeptical eyes on miguel, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. it was time to line up, the maid of honor and the best man in front then the rest behind them. lyla with harry and anne with eddie, leaving you with miguel. everyone had their arms linked, making you hesitant to do the same with the man who hurt you. miguel senses your hesitation, which he doesn’t blame you for, and offers his arm to take. with a quiet sigh, you slowly link your arm with his. normally you would grip onto his bicep but considering the current circumstances, your hand simply hangs over without touching him, only your arms linked together. the fabric of his sleeve glazing against your skin. both your hearts leap with great anxiety as it invades your bodies.

you are touching each other for the first time in months, in which feels like an eternity.

you pretend it doesn’t phase you as the ceremony music begins playing outside. while his heart beats like crazy, miguel sneaks a glance at you making sure you’re okay but you focus ahead. both of you prepare yourselves as the doors open and multiple heads turn around awaiting your arrival. taking a deep breath, you and miguel take your first steps.

while walking down the aisle with linked arms and the small bouquet of flowers in your free hand, suddenly everything feels like in slow motion as your mind begins playing tricks on you. your imagination takes you to where you are expect you’re walking down the aisle in your own wedding dress, your dad by your side and miguel standing at the altar. it was your own wedding. a dream you never imagined before. sure, you loved miguel and wanted to be in a long relationship with him. marriage seemed a bit serious since the relationship was still fresh at the time. however, marrying miguel in fact seemed like a dream, if only things were different and you didn’t hate his guts and he wouldn’t have abandoned you.

you snap out of that dream as soon you and miguel approach the altar. you don’t hesitate to unlink your arm from his and walk to the bride’s side, making miguel frown briefly before heading to the groom’s side. once everyone was in position and peter joins, the wedding theme song begins and everyone rises from their seats awaiting the bride’s arrival.

once mary jane arrives and joins peter at the altar, the ceremony begins. as you watch your friends exchange their vows with tearful eyes of happiness, miguel’s eyes never tore away from you.

although it’s shitty of him to not pay attention to the wedding, especially his friend getting married, miguel is solely focused on you. those brown eyes solemnly looking at you the entire time. the longer he stares, the more he drowns himself in guilt. admiring you in front of an altar triggers his imagination in a painful way. miguel envisions his own wedding, dressed in a similar tux, you in your own wedding gown, you two getting married instead. the vision was too emotional, causing a thin layer of tears in his eyes that he quickly blinks away.

the only time his eyes tear away from you is when peter and mj finally kiss as husband and wife, offering a small smile of happiness before looking back at you, watching you cheer and clap.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the reception was quite nice. everyone savoring the delicious food from the amazing caterers and drowning themselves in wine and other drinks. classic hit songs blasting through the speakers, children running around chasing one another, everyone seems to be happy and enjoying themselves. the newlyweds smiling at each other as they dine as husband and wife for the first time. giggling as mary jane fails to attempt giving peter a piece of cake which gets smeared over his mouth.

you sit with at a separate table with lyla and anne along with relatives of mary jane. tons of gossip and compliments about the newlyweds over wine. sadly, you can’t participate in the wine party due to the baby but honestly you don’t care much. the food was what you were looking forward to and damn it’s delicious. your baby likes it too.

while you dine and gossip with your friends, miguel observes from afar. throughout the reception, his eyes remain locked on you. every time you smile or laugh, his heart flutters. watching you so happy and being yourself is a sight miguel misses a lot. his mind flashes back to the times you were smiling and laughing at him when you were together. those cute, sweet moments just you and him. utterly in love and had nothing to care about but each other. he misses the way he used to make you laugh or smile. seeing and making you happy was his goal. the way your pretty lips curl up showing off that beautiful smile. the angelic sound of your laughter blessing his ears.

expect you weren’t smiling and laughing at him, your friends get the privilege to witness that, not him. the guilt and sadness returns, smacking him in the face. miguel lost that privilege and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get it back. watching you being so happy not only makes his heart flutter but also ache with immense guilt. he isn’t the one making you happy, other people are. he’s the one making you angry and upset.

the guilt was stressing himself out that miguel excuses himself to head to the restroom. the last thing he needs is more tears of guilt, especially at his own friend’s wedding. he just needs to clean himself up and try not be a sulking bastard.

rising from your seat, you plan to get more food despite your friend’s protests saying they would do it for you but you heavily insist you’re fine. as you select your food from the caterers, your shoulder accidentally collides with someone else’s.

“oh shit, i’m so sorry!”

“ah that’s alright.”

a deep, rich baritone voice makes you look at who’s voice that belongs to. your eyes dilate immensely. a man with thick brown hair, a beard connected with compelling sideburns. goddamn he is handsome. your eyes briefly scan him up and down. he waits a simply tux yet you can tell this man is buff as hell. he is at least 6 feet tall or taller, either way he’s tall.

“i wasn’t looking where i was going, i’m sorry.” you offer him a sheepish smile.

“no damage done, sweetheart. i’m still standing.”

the endearment term makes your heart flutter, especially in that rich tone of his.

you chuckle shyly. “still, sorry about that.”

“you were caught up on food, can’t blame you.”

“yeah, it’s just that good.”

“logan howlett.” he offers his hand to shake.

you give your name as you shake his hand, noticing how warm and calloused it feels against yours.

“i saw you up there at the altar, one of the bridesmaids, huh?”

“maid of honor.”

“ah, bride’s best friend?”

you nod, softly smiling. “yep. you?”

“just a mutual friend, i know kaine, peter’s cousin.”

your eyes lighten up in surprise, partially because kaine is one of miguel’s military buddies. does logan know miguel? “oh, cool. you in the military too?”

logan shakes his head. “no, construction guy. met kaine in high school.”

“construction, huh?”

“12 years, don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

oh so he’s a construction worker, you like this man even more. your interest in him grows.

“what about you, sweetheart?” logan asks.

“journalist.”

his thick brows eyes in amusement. “oh, you like writing big fancy stories?”

you snort, shrugging. “it’s my only talent. but it doesn’t compare to building, that’s hardworking.”

“writing is hardworking too, sweetheart.” he offers a wink with a smirk, making your heart swoon.

goddamn, this man is something else. he’s making you a bashful mess with his attractive voice, the sweet nicknames, and flirtatious antics.

you have felt like this since miguel—

no, do not think about that asshole.

“you want some?” logan gestures at his glass of what appears to whiskey, seems like it.

“oh i wish but this one won’t let me.” you glance down at your pregnancy belly and place a hand on it.

logan’s eyes follow yours and widen slightly in surprise at the visible tiny baby bump. “oh, definitely can’t. congratulations, though.”

you softly chuckle. “thanks.”

he glances back at your hand and takes note of the absence of a ring wrapped around your pretty finger. his curiosity increases. “i’m gonna be bold and you can slap me all you want, you just by yourself? no boyfriend or husband?”

“yep, it’s just a sperm donor.” you lie quickly.

it would be awkward to tell logan the truth that the father is here eating and drinking just like everyone else. since you refuse to include miguel in the picture and you two are basically broken up without officially saying it, you simply believe a sperm donor is a good excuse. with this shitshow, it honestly feels like it.

logan hums, contently. “well, congrats to you both.” he gestures at your baby bump.

suddenly, it was time to dance. everyone gets with their partners and head to the dance floor. glancing around, miguel doesn’t seem to be here. perhaps he had to take a breather to get his shit together. you know he’s been watching you the entire time. you can feel his eyes on you, making your body on fire.

logan notices your somber state, making him frown slightly. his eyes follow yours to the dance floor. an idea pops up into his mind.

taking one final sip of his whiskey then setting down the glass down on the nearest surface, logan offers a hand. “dancing isn’t my thing but one chance doesn’t bite, you up for it?”

you look back at him with slightly wide eyes, a bit surprised by his offer. a man offered to dance with you at the same party miguel is. although he isn’t here at the moment, he will show up and see you dancing with another man. part of your heart still beats for him but you remind yourself the pain he caused you. besides, the idea of miguel getting jealous excites you. honestly, you don’t give a shit.

“fuck it, why not?” you shrug and take his hand, making logan smirk in amusement.

with your hand in his, logan guides you to the dance floor and join everyone else in slow dancing. his left hand takes your right and his right hand captures your waist ever so gently, making your heart flutter at the sensation. your right hand rear on his shoulder, feeling the muscles underneath the tuxedo. your bodies pressed against one another. his musky scent invades your senses, just so intoxicating.

you and logan began moving slowly, small steps side by side following the rhythm of the music. it was casual slow dancing while making small talk. logan would throw occasional flirting, making your cheeks your warm and rolling your eyes playfully. you flirt back to match his energy, increasing the tension.

finally, after getting his shit together, miguel returns from the restroom. just as he heads back to his seat along with friends, his eyes caught your figure on the dance floor, causing miguel to stop in his tracks. those thick brows furrowed in envy and confusion at the random ass man dancing with you.

who the fuck is that?

why is that fucker dancing with you?

his blood boils in envy and slight possessiveness at the sight of another man dancing you, or just you being with another man in general. an uncomfortable feeling sits heavy on his chest. suddenly his breathing intensifies, fists clenched at his sides.

that guy shouldn’t be dancing with you or have the honor to be close to you, it should be him. no another man should be allow to so close to you like that. no another man deserves to touch you.

but is miguel really deserving of that honor? especially after what he put you through.

not only is it painful to watch you with another man but also you carrying his child. seeing another man’s arms wrapped around you while his child rests peacefully in your belly. panic invades his body as miguel continues to stare solemnly at you with this random bastard. the strongest urge to storm over there and yank the bastard away from you was getting to him. however, miguel knows he can’t do anything because it isn’t right. he broke your heart, the relationship basically ended which means you’re allowed to do or be with whoever you choose.

but the sight of you with another man causes immense pain to his heart. you seem to be moving on and miguel is still trapped in everlasting guilt. this makes him panic because he’s losing you for real. he lost you the moment he left you alone but now it truly feels like he’s losing you forever.

with the possibility of losing you forever, miguel is losing you and the baby. because of his stupid behavior, he’s losing you both. his fears pushed you away into the arms of another man. it feels like you are slipping from his grasp and lost in the void forever. the dreams and hopes of you becoming a happy family is now slipping away. when he finally came back after those painful three weeks, miguel wanted to become a father and have a family. after much thinking, he decided he was ready for it. however, that possibility is now fading away.

he wants you back, he wants to be a father, he wants to have this baby with you, he wants to have a family, he wants to raise this child with you.

but it seems like an imagination now.

miguel snaps out of those panicky thoughts when logan gently pulls you closer by the waist. suddenly, his blood goes cold like ice. a scowl settles on his face as jealousy flows through his veins. his fists tightened at his sides, nails digging into his own skin.

all common sense and morals fly out the window as miguel begins storming his way towards you and logan. however, before he could reach the dance floor, he collides with one of the waiters, knocking out the tray of appetizers onto the floor. the sound of steel hitting the ground causes several heads to turn, including you and logan. thankfully most of the guests were still partying and dancing.

“chingado…” miguel curses.

“hey man, what the hell?” the waiter, a scrawny looking man no taller than 6 foot.

that whiney tone triggers miguel’s already pissed off self, glaring down at the scrawny idiot with piercing eyes which makes him gulp anxiously.

“pinche huevón, watch where you’re fucking going.”

“y-you’re the w-who bumped into me! you should be the one to watch where you’re going!”

oh that was the last straw.

“mira, cabrón…” miguel yanks the waiter by the collar with harsh force, earning a few gasps from bystanders. “te calmas o te calmo porque yo—”

as miguel raises his fist and the guy begins to flinch like a coward, a firm hand stops him from doing something he will regret.

“alright, let’s clam down, shall we?” eddie comes to the rescue, firming holding miguel’s wrist.

miguel shoves off eddie’s grip and yanks back his hand, lowering it at his side then walks away, mumbling various spanish slang.

heavily sighing in frustration, you roll your eyes at the stupid argument but mainly miguel’s behavior.

“fucking idiot.” logan mutters.

you scoff. “definitely an idiot.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

finally, the reception is over and the newlyweds took off in their car to begin their honeymoon, waving goodbye to all the guests. as majority of the guests leave, you stay to help clean up. logan decides to stay a little longer to help you and also to spend more time with you in general. you can’t deny you like him. after a while and everything is cleaned up, you head to the parking lot with logan by your side.

“i don’t think i’ll do this shit again.”

you laugh at his grumpiness. “it’s not your thing, i get that. especially not with this one controlling me, this is probably the last time i’ll be able to party.” you gesture at your pregnancy belly.

logan briefly looks at your baby bump than back to your eyes, offering a very faint smile before leaning down a bit. “now you better be nice to your mom, kid. don’t give her too much trouble.”

your heart warms at the cute interaction between logan and your baby, even if they’re not fully developed yet, it’s still heartwarming.

standing at his full height, he looks back at you. “i might have not been excited to go to this since this shit ain’t my thing but meeting you was the only good thing today.”

there goes your heart skipping a beat again. “well, it was definitely nice meeting you, logan.”

“i don’t mind if we meet up again, just not at a party again, if you’re up for that?”

knowing what he’s implying, you can’t bite back a grin. “i wouldn’t mind either.”

after exchanging numbers, you bid each other farewell with light hug. before he leaves, logan insists on walking you to your car but you tell him you rode with your friends and they’re waiting for you. you two share one final smile before he leaves. while your eyes remain on him, you hear footsteps approaching.

“soooo, snuggling up with sideburns hottie?” lyla smirks, strolling up beside you.

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes, grinning.

“what? i don’t blame you, he’s hot as fuck. those sideburns are something else.”

“can’t deny that.”

“so, when’s the first date?”

your eyes widen in shock. “jesus, lyla. we literally just met, you know i’m not dating right now.”

“you didn’t exchange numbers for no reason.”

another eye roll. “just as friends, nothing else.”

“does he know that?” she raises a brow.

“yes, i told him.”

she raises her hands. “alright, alright, just saying. however, mr. asshole probably got the wrong idea.” lyla looks past you as she lowers her arms.

turning around, you find miguel observing from afar. you lock eyes for a moment, the first time since walking down the aisle earlier. you notice the jealousy written all over his face. those furrowed brows and clenched fists at his sides. you roll your eyes again before looking away, not caring anymore.

“i don’t give a shit, the asshole can watch what he had lost.” such defiance in your tone.

it’s the truth, you don’t care if miguel gets the wrong idea about you and logan. that man hurt you and deserves to watch you thrive without him.

“ooooo, i like this badass tone.” lyla smirks.

without sparing a final glance at miguel, you and lyla walk away together to join anne on the journey back home. pretending that he doesn’t exist.

miguel, on the other hand, solemnly watches you walk away with your friend just like any other moment. always watching you walk away from him, vanish from his eyes. realization hits that this may be the last time he’ll see you until who knows when. he can’t live without seeing you again yet miguel doesn’t know how to change that.

with a sad sigh, miguel turns back and walks away, carrying the guilt on his shoulders as usual.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[wosoragebaiter69]

recovery takes time

part 2 of ‘you are broken on the floor’

alexia putellas x keeper!reader

request: here

A/N: reminder that i’m a writer and not a med student so idk what times are like for this..

also since y’all wanted me to ask more questions.. if you’ve experienced anything paranormal lmk because i’m interested in that stuff and experienced stuff myself so 🤷

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

The first few weeks of recovery are the worst, you can’t do anything at all. Even walking is a challenge, how would you ever go back to where you were?

Alexia was always by your side though, helping wherever she could considering you weren’t allowed to lift anything. The concussion went away as expected and now was just a long journey of recovery ahead.

“You and I both know you’ll be back out on the soon, give yourself time. Recovery isn’t a quick process, remember what you told me when I did my ACL.” She’d say things similar to that, and for a while you’d believe her until you saw what the media kept saying.

As much as it affected your mental health, it only made you want to come back stronger and be better, to prove the critics wrong. To show the world who you were and that you were staying.

- - - - -

After 10 weeks, you could do regular tasks again. It did tire you out but it gave you strength and the feeling you had control over something. It’s something you so desperately needed, outside of Alexia of course.

You started to head back to the training grounds for meetings with physios and trainers who were doing their best to assess where to start when lifting weights and doing other flexible motions with your arms and chest that isn’t too harsh.

While it still isn’t much, it’s still something. That’s all that matters.

- - - - -

When you were first cleared to lift 5kg, Alexia was there. She always was when you had more progress in getting closer to the pitch. She was your number 1 supporter and it really encouraged you to be better.

When you could fully stretch your arms without pain or feeling uncomfortable, she was there.

When you could go back to lifting regular weights in gym sessions, she’d watch you while feeling immense pride at how far you’d come.

When you were kicked balls to for the first time again, she watched and congratulated every ball you saved.

She’s your knight in shining armour.

- - - - -

The day of your first game, a year of recovery behind you. You were finally starting for your club again. You stand tall behind your girlfriend who sports the armband.

Ever since it was announced you were in training and back in the squad, the media had been relentless. Asking too many questions. Wondering too many things.

You had one job tonight, and that was to show the world who you were. Who you are. Who you will be.

You walk out, fans yelling and cheering as the Barça anthem plays in the background. You missed this so bad.

- - - - -

The game was tough, some shots on you but you managed to keep a clean sheet. Alexia smiling and crowd roaring at you as you did so.

When the final whistle blows, Ale runs to you first pulling you into a crushing hug.

“Mi amor, you did so well.” She wraps her arms around your waist and kisses your neck.

“Thanks Ale, couldn’t have done it without you.” You reply, hands brushing up and down her back.

No matter what happened in life, you’d always want to do it with Alexia. Only Alexia.

—————————————————————————

i’m gonna close my requests for the time being so i can get through my 7 other works 🙏

[sweetbans29]

Long Way Home (Part 2) - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Long Way Home (Part 1)

Summary: After putting your girls through a traumatic week - they see all the trauma that you come back with (based on THIS request)

Warnings: mentions of scars, CUTE

Word Count: 2.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I didn't really know where I was going with this but I like it. I like it a lot.

To say you were glad you were home was an understatement. The past week has been the definition of crazy. When Kate and Caitlin realized you weren't a fraction of their imagination, they wouldn't leave your side. The three of you went over to your parent's house and walked into an almost identical sight of your dad holding your mom. They couldn't believe you were there and told you the whole story of what had happened. If you thought Caitlin was attached at your hip before you left on your assignment, she was even closer to you now. So much so that she wouldn't even let you go to the bathroom unless she was sitting on the counter or right outside the door.

When you first appeared before your girls, they didn't believe you had come back. They had been grieving your loss for several days before you finally made your way through the front door and when you saw their state and heard what had happened you couldn't blame them. Them being told you didn't make it was the last thing that crossed your mind when you were given the green light to go home.

In all of your excitement on your journey home, you completely forgot about why you were sent home. You heard about the bombing of your base and immediately went back to the station, Caitlin and Kate included. You didn't want to bring them but didn't have a choice when they wouldn't let you leave without them. Cailtin's hand never left yours, not for a second.

When you arrived at the station you decided it would be best for Kate and Caitlin to wait outside of the room while you talked to one of the generals. They fought you but you put your foot down, not wanting them to know more than they needed - also because there were some things that you weren't ready to share.

"I don't understand," you say after Gen. Whitley explained what had happened at your previous base. "I was just with them."

"We are still trying to figure out how they got the coordinates," the General says, almost sounding defeated. When he mentioned there were no survivors, you buried the part of you that broke knowing everyone you had just stationed with is in the ground somewhere.

You speak without thinking.

"Send me back," you say.

Whitley sighs. He has thought about it, he thought about it a lot considering the skills you had provided while you were over there. He thought about promoting you and having you on the team leading the search who was responsible for the hit on your team. But then he remembered the reason you were sent home.

You weren't necessarily discharged - at least that is what you were told when you were given the green light to go home. You got injured when one of your caravans was hijacked. injured was putting it lightly considering you were captured and tortured for 36 hours before being found. None of that would even dare leave your lips to the two girls waiting outside. But you were definitely shaken up and spent some time in recovery before heading home. You were still nursing some injuries that remained to be seen by anyone except you.

"Send me back," you say again and immediately regret it, the thought shouldn't have crossed your mind but after hearing about your team you couldn't help it.

"I'm not going to lie to you, it's been a thought but no," he says and you release the breath you had been holding. "Sending you back in the current state you're in wouldn't do anything. plus, I already have a team on the ground."

You respect his decision even though you know you are an asset. Fighting Whitley was like fighting with a wall once his mind was made up. You also don't know how anyone at home would take you going back.

As you leave his office, you are immediately met with Caitlin grabbing your hand and Kate at your side. You walk through the pain and discomfort you are still feeling in your left shoulder abdomen and take your girls home.

The rest of the day is spent between your apartment and Hawkeye-Carver Center as Kate and CC had practice. You sit on the sidelines and watch them practice. You notice life slowly reentering the two who were just so gray. As you sit there, Coach Bluder makes her way over to you and takes a seat.

Neither of you says anything for a minute, both sharing an understanding that was sort of odd for two people who don't know each other super well but share a love for two of the girls on the court has bonded you in a way that not many others have with you.

"Telling them was one of the hardest things, one of the hardest things I have done and that is saying something from a coach," she says with a little laugh.

Your eyes never leave Caitlin as she runs through the drill.

"I can't imagine," you say.

"Their love for you is beyond," Bluder says. This catches your attention.

"Beyond?" You ask, not really sure what she meant by that.

"Beyond. Going all the way to what is seen and more. Those two girls," Bluder says nodding over to Kate and Caitlin, "You have something special in them."

You nod. You know what you have and if you were honest don't know how you got there. Kate was a given as you are family, but Caitlin - she chose to love you beyond what you deserved. She had the choice and chose you.

"Thanks, Coach," you say as Kate comes jogging over. Lisa heads back to her office and you look over at your sister.

"We are done for the day," she says slightly out of breath. "Caitlin just went to shower." She sits down and you shake your head.

"I am not going anywhere, you can go shower too," you say knowing that isn't an option in the older girl's mind.

"Ya right," she says with a scoff and starts scrolling through her phone.

If you were surrounded by both of them, they would trade off watching you while the other goes to do something. They feared if they both stepped away from you, you would somehow magically disappear. It was an irrational fear but you understood it was going to take time for them to heal.

When the three of you went home, you were beyond exhausted. Sleep for you hasn't come easy since being back and your nights were usually spent lying awake, wedged between the two girls. If you did get sleep, you would find yourself waking up in a cold sweat - memories of those 36 hours playing on replay.

As you lay on the couch with the two of them, your head is in Caitlin's lap as she plays with your hair and rubs the side of your neck to your shoulder. Since being home, you are believed to have hidden your scars well, with the exception of some being seen on your legs or felt on your torso. They haven't gone unnoticed but neither Kate nor Caitlin have had the courage to ask. That is until now.

Caitlin's hand wanders a little further into your shirt. Her fingertips find the deep scar on your left shoulder and you wince. You hope it goes unnoticed but Caitlin's head whips away from the TV and looks down at you. Before you know it, she is pulling at the bottom of your shirt to remove it from your body. You didn't have time to react to the speed at which she moving and sigh in defeat knowing her and Kate are about to see more than either of them are prepared for.

Both of the girls are staring at your body. Your eyes close and you prepare for whatever they have in store but the air remains silent.

You feel Caitlin's fingers trace the scars on your stomach then make their way back to the scar that started it all. It is still a bright pink indicating it's still healing.

"What-what happened?" Kate stutters.

You sit up and move to grab your shirt, putting it on again.

"It's nothing either of you need to worry about," you say and for the first time since you have been back, Kate can see how tired your eyes are. She grabs your hand.

"When is the last time you've slept?" Kate asks, knowing she will get an answer regardless of what you say.

"I slept last night," you say. It's the truth. You just chose not to disclose for how long.

Caitlin has tears brimming her eyes, mind still full of the sight of your scars. You bring her into you, adjusting just a little for your comfort.

"It's okay baby, I'm okay," you say. Caitlin wants to wrap her arms around you and just squeeze you but after seeing your torn-up skin she chooses against it. She is scared she will hurt you.

"You need to sleep, please sleep," Kate begs. You nod and lay back down, this time your head in the lap of your sister. Caitlin gets up and heads to your room, hiding the tears that can't seem to stop falling. Kate rubs your back as you let your eyes flutter close.

Even though Kate didn't know it at first, and you for sure didn't know it at all, every time you would jolt awake in the middle of the night it would wake her. Kate didn't understand why she was waking up, really only thought it was to check that you were still there and that your return wasn't a dream. She would see you move but then she would fall right back to sleep. It's not until now that she thought of the possibility of you not being able to sleep.

You don't know how long you are asleep but when you wake up, your head is still in Kate's lap as she is knocked up in a sitting position and Caitlin's asleep on the floor right next to the couch. You blink a few times and realize the sun is rising. For the first time since you arrived, you felt like you were home.

SIX YEARS LATER

"Caitlin, grab your daughter," you yell as the little girl runs around the kitchen island, refusing to put her shoes on.

Caitlin comes in and sweeps up the little girl, "Got you little bug." She sets the little girl down on the counter and puts her shoes on.

"And my daughter? You are the one still running around without your shoes while I'm ready to go," she says referring to your daughter being more like you in this moment.

"Ahhh! My shoes," you say running back to your bedroom and then running back out with them on.

"Okay, I think we are ready," you say checking to make sure you grab everything at the door. "You got our bug and I got our bee," you say referring to the little boy on your hip.

"Did you grab the gift?" Caitlin asks and you nod.

"It's already in the car," you say as your clan makes its way out of the front door. "Did you get our dresses and stuff?"

"Babe, I took everything over to the hotel yesterday," she says.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," you say. "Pregnancy brain." Your hand comes up to your baby bump.

Caitlin shakes her head and laughs, "You're lucky you're cute."

You roll your eyes at her and lock the door.

"Auntie Kate is getting married!" Your little bug exclaims running to the car.

"That's right bug, Aunt Kate is getting married," Caitlin says with a smile on her face, your family is all making its way to the car as well.

"About time," you say in a hushed tone and Caitlin pinches your side.

"Be nice, it's your sister's big day," Cait says now laughing at you.

"She could have proposed last year but no, she had to wait until I was pregnant again and waddling like a penguin," you say, not actually annoyed. You also weren't quite waddling yet, just getting to your second trimester but it was the concept.

Caitlin leans down to kiss your little boy's head, she then kisses the scar on your shoulder before kissing you.

"Just think about what we put her through when we got married," Caitlin says as you both are putting kids in car seats.

Your mind flashes back to all that Kate did for the two of you and you nod.

"You're right," you say and make your way to the passenger seat.

"Of course I'm right, when am I wrong," Caitlin says with confidence.

You laugh and she joins in, knowing full well that you are the one who is always right.

AN: A glimpse into the future with this one. I like it. But it doesn't matter what I think, just what you think. Let me know! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[maximwtf]

“Limits.”

Baizhu x Reader

Words: 1550

Google Docs Pages: 2,5

Warnings: Lantern Rite 2025 spoilers, established relationship, injury recovery, comfort, idk nothing too emotional. 

Opening: Hu Tao drags you back to Bubu in poor shape after saving her, but your partner isn’t quite as happy about this sacrifice. Too bad he’d sacrifice himself for you as well, so you’re in good hands. 

AN// G/N Reader. I have a request to write but because my main finally was let out the basement and got content AND he was voiced…I felt like this came first. But also because I wanted this part to be included in the Lantern Rite cut scene but it wasn’t so…Haha, I didn’t make this too long or detailed, since I have other stuff to work on. Hope it’s still okay :”D

“Limits.”

The amount of fetor your body had been exposed to far exceeded the amount you’d expected to face. But none of the efforts had been in vain. Since whatever had happened after, you’d made sure Hu Tao was alive and well before ultimately collapsing in exhaustion. 

And she was well. Enough so, to having taken the task of getting you back for treatment on herself. You had no memory of this, barely bits and pieces of the journey. Flashes of small bits of road, faint sounds of Hu Tao cheering herself on under her breath and a faint memory of stairs. A feeling you'd had each time, of wanting to ease her burden of dragging you back by getting back on your feet. But the overwhelming exhaustion prevented you from moving, there was no arguing against it. 

It was already dark by the time Hu Tao had made it back to Bubu pharmacy. Allowing herself a moment of rest when Baizhu helped her by taking on some of the weight of your collapsed form, brows furrowed in worry. His hand brushed back some of the lost strands of hair from your face while diligently checking your vitals. Most of the actions done so automatically on the spot he hadn’t even noticed doing them. 

He felt displeased, most of that stemming from worry. A part of him not fully comprehending the fact that you’d willingly gone and done something so dangerous. But then again, you had saved the life of the funeral parlor’s director successfully. That fact confused his thought process, not really knowing who to be displeased with.  Ultimately deciding that maybe it was better if those feelings weren’t directed at anyone. There were more pressing matters at hand. 

That didn’t stop him from mumbling a few rather opinionated comments under his breath while helping Hu Tao escort you to the back room for a more thorough exam. Laying your form neatly on to the bed before going over to the shelves. Mind ticking to find anything to ease the exhaustion that he’d concluded as the cause for the collapse. You needed rest, that much was clear. But he couldn’t have you sleeping without consuming anything for an extended amount of time. That would far increase the risk of more harm than good. 

In his hurry to find the best possible medicine, he’d forgotten to thank Hu Tao. Furthermore, he’d forgotten that the girl needed a check up as well. She’d been in the very same place as you, and therefore having had the fetor run through her as well. 

“Ah, indeed. Thank you, Director Hu. Once their condition is stable, I suggest you come in for a check up as well.” He spoke swiftly, an attempt to hide the worry in his tone from the other and himself. He wouldn’t have been of much help to anyone if any of those selfish feelings were to come through now. 

He couldn’t see the reaction of the Director, merely hearing an agreeing ‘okay’ before she saw it best to leave the doctor to perform his duty in peace. The silence so dreadful when he finally seated himself beside the bed. 

He did what he could. Applying all the medicine he could think of that had a chance of easing your condition, taking note of any changes with your vitals. By now having realised that this case with the fetor could have been of use in further research. Then again, that could have been a desperate attempt to distract himself from the identity of the patient he was caring for. It was an odd feeling, seeing something he held close to his heart be injured and unresponsive. 

But he knew better than to rue over something that couldn’t be changed anymore. He’d done what he could, knowing that since the fetor didn’t exactly cause an illness, it meant there was nothing he could heal. Merely ease the effects of it now and hope that your recovery would perhaps be sped up by the medicine. 

Time passed faster than he expected. The situation had taken such a strain on his condition, he’d barely noticed when he had started nodding off. Changsheng sensed the stress of the situation, not daring to start waking Baizhu up again once he’d fallen asleep by the bed. Thinking it best to allow him rest now, rather than waking him up and having the man fuss over you again for the rest of the night. His body could hardly take the strain, no matter if he always argued otherwise. 

Thankfully his dignity was saved, since you hadn’t shown any signs of waking up the next morning either. Only, he’d received a few displeased looks and comments from Changsheng over him straining himself like he’d done. After another overly thorough examination, he’d been able to only conclude that you appeared fine on the outside. Deciding it best to start off his day to get his mind off of the situation. Knowing all he could do was to wait for your body to naturally wake up again. 

The day kept him busy with all the check ups he had to do with the patients affected with fetor previously, allowing him to take his mind off of your condition. It was only after Zhongli had come in to visit you that he’d received the news of your conscious state. The other man having seen it best to start leaving so Baizhu had space to make sure nothing fatal had happened due to the extreme exposure to fetor. 

He hurried to the back room, relieved to find you sitting on the bed with a hand on your forehead. Seemingly having just woken up. “Well, good morning,” his usual voice greeted you and immediately gained the attention he’d missed. “You know, you’re lucky your constitution is as strong as it is. You dealt a serious blow back there.” He continued, a hint of stress apparent in his voice. But maybe that was only to your more trained ear. You were aware of how skilled he was with holding himself back for the sake of others, and that included you. 

But he was right, of course. But even if you’d survived, the feeling after wasn’t pleasant. Your head still felt heavy with exhaustion, not to mention the overpowering feeling of wanting to lay back down and sleep. It took every ounce of willpower you had left to muster up a few words. “Could I have a drink?” Like an automatic request. You hadn’t even noticed how thirsty you were, so far having no idea how long you’d been out for. 

Baizhu had been already on it, handing you the cool cup right after hearing the request. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time…” He spoke up again, keeping up conversation in order to keep you awake. It wasn’t hard to tell you kept nodding off every once in a while. So he proceeded to raise his voice a little then, give you a gentle push while checking your vitals again.

Gentle with his process, he made one final check up and agreed to let his mind rest after. It truly seemed to only be exhaustion from taking the blow of the ritual. You’d be fine with proper rest, as much as he’d feared otherwise. 

The cooling drink ran out faster than you would have hoped, placing the empty cup beside the bed. “You know, I can tell you’re worrying,” voice a little more clearer this time. “But I feel fine, the drowsiness aside…” You tried to chuckle a little to lighten up the mood. “He stayed up almost all night watching over you.” Changsheng spoke up before the man himself was able to, exposing his little endeavors the previous night. “Baizhu-..” You were able to begin the all too practised lecture, only to be interrupted by him. “I’m keenly aware of my limits, unlike some,” he allowed a sight to escape. Letting out some of the built up stress from the ordeal. “That was a trick I do not wish for you to perform again..” He sat down beside you on the bed, brushing some of your hair back with a gentle motion. In the end, pulling you in for a light embrace which was gladly returned soon after. “I think the Funeral Parlor will be in check for some time after this…No need for another rescue, don’t worry.” You hummed, feeling your eyes start to close once again. 

Baizhu pulled back, feeling your weight start to shift on to him a little more. “They may be fine, but you..” He laid you down gently, standing back up. “Are not. Which is exactly why you’re going to rest so that no lasting damage will raise its head.” Baizhu explained with the usual firm tone behind his words, knowing fully well that he wasn't going to let you walk this off. But wanting to believe that your negotiable nature wasn’t due to exhaustion, but instead out of wanting to ease the mind of the other. “Alright…” 

You could see the warm smile on his face before your eyes forced themselves shut. Only feeling the light peck he pressed against your forehead before outstretching his hand to allow Changsheng to climb back up to his shoulders. “Rest well, dear.” He said silently, before exiting the room. Now with a little more peace of mind.

[sammyyyyisg4y]

Eyes

Warnings: cursing (once), suggestive flirting (once), not proofread, sfw.

Details: fem!reader, love at first sight trope, older sister!reader, misunderstood!tendou, 1k words.

First post!! I hope you enjoy💋

Eyes are the window to the soul. That's what people say at least. That phrase has been tossed into every love story imaginable. But it all seems a little hard to believe.

How can someone look into another's eyes and immediately tell that they were meant to be? How could eyes show the deepest parts of you, parts that may never see the light of day. How could it be possible?

It was always too unbelievable for you. You'd never once looked into someone eyes and decided their soul was meant for yours. It was all just fairy tales and romance novels, right?

-

With a satisfied hum, you continued on your journey. Your club activities for the day had just ended, so it was time to find your brother and head home.

The campus was large, way bigger than your old school. So finding your way to the gym was proving to be a bit of a hassle. With a frustrated huff you pulled out your phone and checked over your messages again, rereading the instructions on how to find the gym.

"All it says is turn! How am I supposed to know which way? Fuckin Goshiki and his vague directions" your voice dropped to a low grumble as you shoved your phone back in your pocket. You just sighed and went left, hoping you'd finally make it to your destination.

Much to your luck, the sound of squeaky shoes and balls slamming onto the ground filled your ears. "Yes!" You cheered as you pumped your fist in the air. You approached the door, stopping just before the threshold and peaking past the wall.

You peered inside scanning for your brother before you locked eyes with someone. He was a tall redhead, who seemed like he was going in for a block.

  "Your brother plays volleyball here? Wow! He must be really good! Which player is he?" A beaming girl asked while leaning on your desk. "Goshiki, the one who has the funny bangs and wants to be the ace" you answered, your description making yourself laugh.

  "Oh I know who that is! He's in the starting line up!" She smiled brightly. "Yeah, hey I don't really know much about the players yet, and I don't want to ask him or he'll never shut up" you laughed before finishing, "do you mind filling me in on who else is on the team?" She nodded happily, plopping into the chair next to you, "of course!"

  After a long, in depth explanation of each player, she paused, thinking a moment before continuing. "And then there's this really weird guy named Tendou. He's our best middle blocker, but he's really scary. So I'd try to avoid him" she shivered, as if the thought of him scared her.

  In that instant, you both stopped, as if everything was frozen in time. You could feel him, the weight of his soul. You could see he was damaged, but you could also see just how misunderstood he was. You could see your future with him.

  His gaze allowed you to see all the way into his soul. And you could feel the way he was peering into yours.

  After what felt like hours, the sound of a coach screaming snapped you out of your haze. You recoiled, hiding behind the wall. Your heart was pounding. Was that the scary guy she was talking about? Who could be scared of someone beautiful?

  After a short recovery period, you stepped into the gym, gaining the attention of a few. One of those people being your little brother.

  "Y/n, your too early! I wanted to practice my spikes with Semi!" Goshiki whined as he jogged up to you. "Tsu, I want to leave though" you groaned. "No please? Ten more minutes?" He asked, flashing you his big puppy dog eyes. You just sighed and stepped aside, causing him to cheer and run back onto the court.

  You sat down against the wall, opting to watch him play rather than playing on your phone. Well, rather watching Tendou play. He was so skillful, guessing where the spike would go and stopping it before any else had the chance to think. And he looked so perfect while doing so.

  You tore your gaze away from him for just a moment. Just long enough to check your phone. But when you looked back up, there he was. Right in front of you. He was crouched, making himself eye level with you.

  There it was again. His soul staring your own in the face. "So I didn't imagine that.." he muttered. "Your beautiful" was the only thing that you could get past your lips. His eyes widened in shock. His brain racked, searching far and wide for a memory of someone calling his beautiful before. There wasn't one. You were the first to ever call him beautiful.

  "Aren't you a bold one?" He paused, "your.. beautiful too." He almost sounded scared to admit it. "What's your name?" He asked, tilting his head with a smile. "I'm Y/n, and your Tendou" you said firmly. "My my, you sure know your stuff. Call me Satori, I'm sure that'll sound better on that pretty tongue " he smirked.

  He was being bold, and he knew it. But he couldn't help it. You awoke something in him. That something being the need to be yours.

"Satori, hm, it dose sound better" you quickly matched him. It was your way of sending a positive message. And boy was it working.

  "Hey! Get away from my sister Tendou!" Goshiki shoved his body between the two of you, causing Satori to fall over. "Tsu! Look what you did!" You pushed past him and helped up the redhead. "Sorry about him" you smiled apologetically. "More than ok, Sunshine" he smiled back.

  Your hand lingered in his far longer than necessary, enjoying the way his cold hand felt against your own. "Quit it! Come on let's go!" Goshiki huffed while pulling your hands apart.

  "I'll see you later, Satori" you smiled warmly. "Bye bye soul tie" his own smile matched yours. You took one last look past his eyes and into his soul. Feeling his warm thing one more time before Goshiki dragged you out.

  Maybe the eyes are the window to the soul.

[dreamscapesofblue]

Dreamscapesofblue's Kinktober 2023

"Wait for me in bed without panties when I come back."

↠ summary - Wriothesley smut, Modern Au, as your college boyfriend. After spending one month away at an internship, he sends you a text to ask you to prepare for his return - without panties.

↠ characters - Wriothesley x fem!reader

↠ cw: mndi - 18+ smut, fluffy smut, fingering, somnophillia with consent, dirty talk. Brief mention of mental health struggles (no condition named), Wrio as your anchor in your mental health journey, reader works hard to be strong while he is away. 1.15k words.

Wait for me in bed without panties when I come back

Your heart thuds in excitement. It’s been a month since you have seen Wrio. Wrio had been caught up in a one month internship in a different state 4 hours away, and while both of you have no qualms with driving to meet each other, it had also been a busy season for you as you have been stuck in college trying to finish up your dissertation and final exams. 

This frustratingly stressful month without your boyfriend have made you miss his light hearted and comfortable presence. It didn’t help that you have been so used to him as your anchor through tough times. As someone who had mental health struggles, stressful times were hard and Wrio had always been there to ground you when the going gets tough. Although both of you try to make up for each other’s missing presence by being on the phone with each other almost all day, leaving FaceTime on the laptop running as you guys silently went about your daily activities, it was still different. Knowing that it was not an easy decision for him to decide to be away for a month, you consciously tried to appear the brightest and best you could to prevent him from worrying. 

After all, Wrio had originally wanted to reject this internship as he did not want to be physically away at your busiest time in University for a month. Wrio came to know of your story shortly after becoming your boyfriend and had been strongly protective and supportive of you ever since. At first, he was your ultimate crutch and saving grace in the early part of your recovery journey. Although you had gotten better, Wrio never changed in his staunch protectiveness over you and was very hesitant in leaving you alone. But you had spent 3 months conscientiously persuading, showing and promising him that you would be fine since you have been doing mental and physical preparations to cope. You shared that while you love his selfless support towards you, you needed to learn to stand on your own in order to become fully healthy again and become a better partner for him. Over the 3 months, he had watched your strong efforts in working even harder through therapy, always sharing and discussing on how you planned to improve your coping strategies. He watched how you’ve worked so hard to grow stronger for both of you by the days and acknowledged that his insistence to always be by your side would ultimately do you more bad than good. With your assurance that all will be fine since you guys would keep in contact everyday, he finally decides that not going would be letting you down and not respecting your efforts. 

Hearing his sweet voice through the speaker was different. No matter how close you tried to place the speaker to your ears, it would never reverberate through your body as his warm body affectionately snuggled you with his calming heart beats. 

But all of that suffering was finally coming to an end. You were feeling extremely proud of how far you have come on your own and having coped through this intense period without Wrio was testament to your growing strength. Right now, all that was on your mind was to receive your long awaited reward - to finally be in wrio’s arms again. 

So imagine the almost religious excitement you had while counting down towards the day Wrio would return to your shared apartment. On the day of your last written examination, he had lovingly sent you a beautiful morning message of encouragement - Wait for me in bed without panties when I come back tomorrow. 

You snuggle in bed and wished that it was already tomorrow’s night right now. You grabbed a little chibi sized doll that looked like a mini Wrio and hugged it to your chest.

I’m going to finally see you tomorrow. 

Slowly, you drift off to sleep. 

— 

Wrio enters the room silently. His icy blue eyes almost seem to be glowing in the dark, his usually sharp eye lines softening into an uncharacteristic gentleness when he trained his sight on your figure.

He sees your figure lying there wrapped in a blanket. He smirks in anticipation at the prospect of finally unwrapping his long awaited present. He slowly climbs up the bed and peels the blanket of you. His eyes darken in dizzying thirst as his starved body starts anticipating your soft body.

His cold and callused fingers slip under your nightgown, deliriously taking his time trailing your smooth jade thighs before he slowly reaches the apex. To his surprise, he reaches another soft covering that was still wet to the touch. Even though it wasn’t the surprise his was expecting, his body begins to heat up even more rapidly as he felt his crotch tighten painfully in excitement as he pictured you sprawled out on the bed; your sweet fingers trying to desperately please your aching clit that missed the touch of its true owner, your beautiful round breasts trembling under the moonlight as you pant and moan his name. 

He gulps another breath to restrain himself from tearing your nightgown apart immediately. Instead, he lines his chest to your back, reaches his hands from your waist to your pussy and starts rubbing your clothed clit. 

Just under a few of his masterful strokes, the sleeping bud began to bloom and harden in recognition of its master, trying to peek through the panties to directly meet his touch. 

Wrio feels your body start to pulse in pleasure as you subconsciously whine in dripping need, your cry urgent and needy, like a cat in heat mewling for salvation. Your twitching body rubs against wrio’s own clothed cock as he began kissing your neck. 

His familiar warmth coupled with the overwhelming sensations finally starts to rouse you awake. You blearily blink your lidded eyes as you try to orientate your mind and distinguish whether your brain is creating a dream to comfort your lonely mind. Just as you try to turn your head, Wrio moves forward and nibbles your ear. 

“Awake, sweetheart? Did I not tell you to wait for me without panties?”

As Wrio speaks, his uses one finger to dig beneath your panties and slowly glides over your dripping hole. 

“Hmm… perhaps you didn’t miss me as much to have forgotten about it. On the other hand, this one seems to miss me much more.” 

Wrio dips two fingers in your nectar, before clenching your rosy bud in between them, rubbing and pinching your love juice all over it as if trying to give it a bath.

Your body trembles harder in lust and pure delight as it registers that it was not a dream. 

“Wrio… you said you were coming back on 28th… I thought…I thought you were only coming back at night since you told me to wait in bed…” 

You pant in difficulty between breaths as wrio began fingering your pussy. 

“Ah, that’s my fault.” 

He suddenly stops his hand and you immediately turn more out of fear of disappointing him than reacting to the loss of his touch. When he finds your teary eyes face to face to his, he gently cups your cheeks in his warm palms and kisses your watery lashes.

“It is my fault for not elaborating, sweetheart. When I said to wait for me in bed without panties when I come back, it was to rid you of the hassle of wearing them when I know that it will be off the whole day soon. So sweetheart, while I might have actually preferred the unexpected surprise of finding you still wearing them with leftover traces of your desire for me, you are still not going to be able to wear them for the whole of today, or maybe even the whole of the upcoming week. “

Part 2 coming up soon!

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt - s/o who struggles with food

a/n: this going to be a very angsty work so please bear with me...i'm feeling very angsty these days. anyways, this hits a little close to home so I understand if you're not able to read this. please be kind to yourself. i'm always here to chat if you ever need anything. please enjoy.

warnings! I will be discussing ed's and food and everything within that realm so please read this at your own digression! (you're not alone. if you're going through something right now, please seek help. it can be hard but you've got this! I believe in you!)

Yeonjun

Yeonjun for sure takes a while to notice anything is ever happening. He just gets so busy with work that he forgets. Sometimes, he struggles to take care of himself for this reason so he can definitely understand the struggle of taking care of yourself enough. When he does find out, he does all he can to help you. He's really caring towards his partner. 

By this point, Yeonjun hadn't seen in person for about 2 months. He was off on tour with the group. Of course, you two had facetime sessions when you two had a moment to spare but it still couldn't have prepared him for what he would face when he got home. The moment he arrived at the airport back home, he immediately asked to go back to your shared apartment. When he arrived, you met him at the door but the way you looked was very different. You appear thinner and it was quite obvious. Yeonjun tried not to make his reaction obvious but he couldn't help the way his eyes went wide when he laid eyes on you. You frown at him and after some talking, you spill about how you were so angry at yourself for the way you looked that you just kinda stopped eating right. Yeonjun makes it his mission to help you feel better and he helps you get back on track to eating enough like you did before. 

Soobin

This section does mention making yourself vomit so please read with caution!

Soobin is also so good when it comes to comforting others. He gives the best hugs and always knows just what to say to help you feel better. when he finds out you're having trouble with your relationship with food, he is absolutely heartbroken. He hates the idea of you struggling with something that he feels should make you happy. He is always going to do whatever you need him to do so you can recover. 

You and Soobin had been together for a few months now and everything was going really well. You both were very happy with one another and were getting along great. The only problem was that Soobin had no idea about your relationship with you. You would do your best to hide the fact that you were never able to get yourself to keep your food down. It made you feel so disgusted but Soobin had no idea. On this particular night, Soobin had come over to your apartment to eat dinner. You were usually able to run off after dinner under the guise that you needed to use the bathroom. Tonight, however, Soobin had become suspicious when you took longer than usual. He goes over to knock on the door but before he can even do that, he panics when he hears you crying and throwing up. He opens the door immediately and lets himself in. He looks really sad and even helps you clean up when you finally stop. You can;t help but open up to him when you see the pain in his face after watching you do this to yourself. He does his best to understand and help you get better, suggesting you talk to someone about this. He is really supporting you on your recovery journey. 

Beomgyu

This one hits a little close to home 😕

he isn’t super observant about your eating habits but he definitely notices when the snacks start to kind of disappear from the pantry. And it wasn’t just them going like normal, they were going a lot faster than normal. You usually only go out shopping for snacks once a week but have been going every three days lately. It was worrying him. Not so much because he was worried you’d gain weight, not in the slightest. He was worried because he was thinking you were going through something and weren’t wanting to tell him.

When you get home from work one afternoon, you see him in the kitchen at the dinner table. You were so excited to see him since he was usually still at work during this time. He looked worried and he asked you to sit down, so you did. He didn’t beat around the bush and straight up told you about his observations. It made you feel angry at first. Why was he bringing this up? Did you gain weight? Was he calling you fat? But then he explained why he even brought it up and that he just wanted to help. You broke out into tears and told him all about what was going on in your life at the moment and how eating made you feel comfortable. He totally understood and offered to help you work through it in different ways since snacking wasn’t the best idea. You accept his help and it starts to feel better

Taehyun

How dare his pretty girl think she’s ugly? He just can’t fathom why you would starve yourself or even think that you’re not good enough for some reason. He always does his best to combat this by complimenting you as often as he can and making sure he keeps track of whether you’ve eaten or not. He knows it’s a little frustrating for you when he’s constantly asking you if you’ve eaten but it’s just before he cares and he doesn’t want you to get sick. 

in this scenario…it was a few days until your wedding. you had been trying to hide it but you haven’t eaten much over the last week, causing you to feel weak. When the day finally came, you fainted as you were getting your hair done. Everyone in the room with you was panicking and they called taehyun to come help you wake up. He made sure to pick up some snacks from his dressing room and some water for you to drink. He had an itching feeling that you were starving yourself but didn’t want to accuse you of anything. When you wake up, he’s sitting over you with a worried look. “Oh dear. You’re awake. You had us all worried. I think I know why this happened though.” You had a guilty look on your face and he already knew what happened. He convinces you that you need to eat something now so you don’t feel weak on your guy's big day. He’s so proud watching you eat your snack and drink water and he makes his feelings known. 

Huening Kai

He is very caring and sweet and always knows when something is wrong with his girl. He started to worry when it was Wednesday and he hadn't seen you eat or heard about anything you've eaten since Monday night. He knew it was only a day but he was so worried. He didn't want you to go without eating. luckily, he'd planned to hang out with you tonight after schedules! he picks up your favorite meal and drinks for you to eat when he arrives. 

he gets there and knocks. when you open the door you hug him and give him a kiss hello but you kind of start to change in demeanor when you see the bags of food he had. you hadn't let yourself eat in the last two days and the sight of food was just too much for you at the moment. All you could think of when you tried to eat was being laughed at by a group of girls your age who were making comments of your weight when walking down the street. you finally break down and kai follows you, leaving the food at the table. He finally gets you to let him hold you, let him wipe away your tears. you tell him everything and he was so good at just listening. He coaxes you back to the table and even feeds you if it makes you feel more comforted.

[lif3lessb0dy]

₊˚⊹ ೀ lads boys; xavier & zayne

╰┈➤ headcanon/scenario; they saw how reader is struggling with her mental health

cw; self-harming(recovering), scars, depression in xavier's part, feeling not enough because of scars in zayne's part, cursing

a/n; if any of this topics is triggering you do not read! I kinda based some of this on my personal experience from the past so I did everything I could to make this accurate, if you feel like reading this will be harmful to your journey in any way feel free to skip it

i saw @chryssikyu 's post and decided that I can write something about it since I haven't found anything like that here.

╰┈➤ XAVIER!

you were a team so he could watch how your behavior is changing

he was really worried, he wanted to ask if everything is fine

he was headed straight to your apartment, prepared the questions in his head, he was afraid that it would seem awkward, you were just work partners after all

he knocked at your door

you opened but after you realized that it was xavier you just wanted to start crying again, you looked like a total mess, you didn't want to make him worry about you but it was too late

„can i... can i come in?” he asked quietly

„yeah, of course” you wiped your wet cheeks with your sleeve once again.

you were nervous asf

after some minutes of normal talk he wanted to just ask about his suspicions

you started crying and opened up about your recovery and depression episodes that lately hit you badly, you told him how you were feeling about your job, friends and life in general

he saw your old scars on thighs but didn't say anything, he waited to see if you would like to talk about it, he didn't want to force you to do this, especially now

you had such a bad mental breakdown that you have told him everything.

„(y/n) if you ever have such a bad time again that you want to return to self-harm, come to me. we don't even have to talk if you don't want to, if you ever feel like that again just come to me. or I will come to you, I don't want you to suffer in silence, it's not a shame to ask for help or support.” he looked at you „you are so much more than what you think, i don't want you to sit in the dark of your room crying and thinking you're useless, because you're not. I know you probably think my words are a joke, but I really... I really like you so I want you to be happy, I would do anything to make sure you don't experience these bad moments alone”

you didn't expect this. you expected disgust or laugh. why was he so nice and caring? in your eyes you were just a burden to him on a missions but he still cared about you.

„I also understand that you will need your alone moments, I just want you to know that you can count on me.” he gently grabbed your hand. „we're more than just a team, I care about you and wish you the best”

╰┈➤ ZAYNE!

it was your first date with him, you still couldn't believe that it was really happening

you wanted to dress nicely but after you saw yourself in the mirror you just started crying. no matter what dress or skirt you were wearing you still felt ugly. you felt like the scars on your body make you worse.

you called zayne and came up with some excuse just to stay at home. you really felt terrible, you just wanted to lay in bed all day and cry. you recently started therapy again because you knew that you were feeling worse and worse every day.

zayne knew that something was off. you were so excited, but suddenly you were sick and couldn't go? he knew that you were 100% healthy because he was your doctor after all, he didn't notice any signs of illness at yesterday's routine checkup

he decided to go to your apartment to see what was going on. he gently knocked and waited for an answer, after a while you opened the door.

„za-zayne?” he caught you off guard, you quickly pretended that you were coughing. „what are you doing here?”

„I wanted to examine you since you're not feeling well”

you felt guilty that you made him worry about you. you sighed and knew that you needed to tell him the truth.

„zayne... listen, i-i'm...” you started whispering.

„not sick?” he raised an eyebrow. „can I come in?”

you nodded twice. you felt embarrassed because of your lie.

„what's wrong, (y/n)? did something happen? or you just... didn't want to go? yo-you could tell me if you didn't want this date” he said calmly, almost like he thought that it's all because of pity towards him, well, he was the one who asked you out, he was worried that you agreed because you didn't want to make him feel bad

„no! i wanted it, but... it's really complicated” you avoided his gaze, not sure how to say what you were thinking. „since you're my doctor you know that...” you paused, your psychologist helped you learn how to talk about your feelings, but you were still afraid.

„know what?” he came closer and grabbed your hand. „don't be afraid, (y/n), you can tell me everything and I will not judge you” zayne said sincerely.

„do you think i'm worse than others because of my scars? do they make me ugly?” you looked straight into his eyes

„what?” he was completely shocked. „I have never thought like that and I never will. these scars are a sign of how much you've been through, that's the past, we can't change it, but we can do anything so you don't have to make new ones.” there was no insincerity in his gaze, only pure love. „I don't only care about how your body looks like, I see you as a wonderful, brave person who has a good heart. you're so pretty for me, some scars won't change it” he lifted your hand and gently pressed his lips against it.

„I wouldn't want people to start talking bad about you because of my...” he didn't let you finish, he cupped your face and ran his thumb over your lips.

„do you think I care about what they think when I have you by my side? you're a wonderful person, everyone admires how nice and helpful you are, often after you visit me in the hospital, people would talk about how beautiful you are, (y/n), let me show you how I see you, don't look at yourself like you're the worst piece of shit. i know it's not that easy, i'm glad you're continuing with therapy, and if there's anything i can do to show you how much i care about you – i will do it.”

[whiskeynwriting]

Recovery

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones” 

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Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Trauma, physical therapy, some reader descriptions (strong/muscles), dirty talk, size kink, grinding/dry humping, mentions of male masturbation, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of smoking, tattoos.

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A/N: Hope y’all aren’t getting sick of Ghost x Bones because they’re not leaving anytime soon lol. Also this gif has my HEART, baby has some makeup in his eye lol

ALSO also, thank you to @thesleepingmusicneek for honestly just being an amazing fucking friend but for helping me SO much with my writing 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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Nothing but scribbles stumble across the page, now disfigured with angry wrinkles. And the writer, no more frustrated than he is stubborn, sitting with the pencil’s tip just at the paper’s edge. What’s worse than watching him struggle, is knowing there’s little to nothing you can do about it. This journey is up to him; his progress, his growth, his recovery, it’s all in his hands. 

“This is bullocks.” Finally, he tosses the pencil down with an aggressive huff. “Never even was a lefty.”

“That’s not the point.”

Looking away with a frown, he mumbles, “I know.”

Simon’s physical therapist tries his best, he really does, but his patient is stubborn, and these injuries are unforgiving. Having you here is the main thing that keeps Simon going, out of both pride and general encouragement. In the therapist’s eyes, your open sass doesn’t help. But hey, it’s how the two of you bond. 

“Try it this way, Ghost.” He then offers, speaking into the growing silence. 

“I’ve already tried it that way. Fuckin’ hurts!” His left hand wasn’t ever his strongest or most favored out of the two, but practicing his writing skills is a step in the right direction in regard to his healing. 

Sometimes, this was embarrassing for him, having you watch him struggle. But even through the bad days, and the really bad days, he insisted that you come. Your support meant more to him than anything, and you were glad to tag along. He found great offense in the mere offer of you leaving, which was suggested many times by his therapist. They claimed he’d focus better without you there. A fucking distraction. 

“She’s my doctor,” He’d state firmly, eyes burning holes into his PT. “Not you.”

And this was true. Price had allowed you to be Simon’s main physician, figuring there really wasn’t anyone better. You had both personal and professional reason to be here. So, Simon’s physical therapist can suck it. 

“Perhaps if we had some privacy, maybe -”

“This again?!” Ghost shouts, and you try your best to hide your chuckle. He should’ve known better than to bring this up now, when Simon is most frustrated. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, how many times do I have to tell you?!”

“Hey,” Laying a hand on his forearm, you request gently, “Take a breath.”

Regardless of his deep inhale, Simon’s dark eyes continue to glare at the physician. Though, as irritated as he may seem now, Ghost truly has come a long way. He’s gotten a lot of feeling back in his feet and legs, and can even wiggle his toes and feel pain. On this area of his body, the therapist has moved onto moving his entire foot. 

“Why don’t we try the lower extremities?” 

“‘S difficult, too.” Glancing away, Simon focuses on the view past the windowpane. It’s a sunny day, soon to rain but nice enough now. 

The soft rub of your thumb on his forearm is what pulls him back, nodding with a sigh. “Alright, fine.”

Redirecting his focus to his feet, Simon concentrates, determined to do… something. He’s been instructed to wiggle his toes, which he does successfully. And the gentle squeeze you give him offers the slightest bit of encouragement. 

“Alright, now let’s try your ankle. Start with the right one.” 

“Rotate it fully?” Scoffing, he raises a brow.

His therapist shrugs. “Any movement at all.”

Narrowing his eyes, Simon zones in on his right foot, doing anything he can to make it move. A twitch, a wiggle, anything. But by his quick yet shallow breaths, his small grunts, you can tell he’s becoming agitated again. 

“Be patient with your body.”

“My body can do so much more than this.” He spits out in return. 

“Yeah?” You return, not one to take his sass. “Then show me.” 

There was nothing more motivating than your snarky remarks, always ready to challenge the man you love. And wouldn't you know it, a small shudder runs through his ankle. The way Simon’s head immediately snaps up toward you makes you grin, his eyes wide with little crinkles on the side, evidence of his eager smile. It's like he himself was surprised by it, and to say you’re proud of him would be an understatement. 

“Way to go, big boy.” With the widest grin, you congratulate him. “You’re making progress.”

And even though he doesn’t respond, he keeps his smile. He’s proud of himself, too.

*

*

*

Subtle glances, small brushes or touches, cheeky grins and flirtatious laughs, that’s what accounts for your interactions. And while your exchanges have been sweet, they’ve also been dulled, in a way. The fire doesn’t seem to be there anymore. Your love still grows, is still everlasting, but the desire you had for one another, it’s faded.

Or at least, it seems that way. 

The first few months of Simon’s recovery were the most difficult. Getting him stable was more important than anything, and you were by his side through it all. You weren’t thinking sexually, those thoughts weren’t anywhere near your headspace, not when you were so worried. But the more Simon healed, the more touchy he should be, right? It makes sense in your head. Going so long without so much as kissing or even hugging you, you’d assumed he’d want to put his hands on you as soon as he got the chance. 

The injuries on Ghost’s face and head have healed, externally, at least. So, he’s been lifting his mask more around you, but only to the tip of his nose. And you wonder if he regrets showing himself to you. But even with that thought lingering heavily in your head, you also wonder, why hasn’t he kissed me yet? Why hasn’t he initiated anything? A small hug? A peck on the lips? Anything? Honestly, it feels like you’re losing him all over again.

Simon has shown his love for you through his actions and words. The two of you don’t often say it, but it comes up every now and then. His physical intentions, though, those were much more prominent. They came in the form of voicing his requests for you to stay, whether it be at his therapy sessions or just throughout the day. He wasn’t shy about that. Occasionally, he’d compliment you, call you smart and sweet, call you his doctor, his girl. But nothing more, nothing even remotely sexual. And it’s strange because Simon used to be so sexual. Even when he couldn't do much with you, couldn't he have said something to express his physical interest? 

On the other end, Ghost’s worrying about this topic just as much as you. While you’ve been waiting for him to make a move, he’s been waiting on you. His body has always been scarred, mutilated with cuts that ran deep and marred with burns over his flesh. But he wasn’t insecure about any of that, not until these recent injuries. He knows he looks different, especially on his left arm and legs, even his face a little bit. Simon hasn’t felt truly insecure in decades, but that rotten feeling has now been clawing at the insides of his chest, breaking free and wreaking havoc on his mind. 

Simon wanted to give you space, give you the option of turning away. He wouldn’t blame you, this wasn’t exactly part of the package. Besides, you can’t help it if you’re not attracted to him anymore because of these injuries. He’d understand it. It’d crush his entire being, but he’d understand. 

And so, he waits, wondering if the day will come where you’ll make a move, where you’ll show him that you’re still attracted to him. But he refuses to bring it up to you, he doesn’t want to push. 

“‘M sorry,” Simon grumbles quietly, somberly. 

“You don’t have to be.” His regret is obvious, and you appreciate the gesture of him apologizing. But you’re used to his attitude during those sessions, and you honestly don’t blame him one bit. You can’t imagine how frustrating this situation would be if it were you personally. 

Moving about the room, you clean up your station, sorting notes into files and wiping down the desk. And Simon watches you with thoughtful eyes, hoping for a chance to reconnect. You’re the most precious and special thing he’s ever had the pleasure of possessing. But not possess in a way of dominance, possess in a way like his own soul possesses his body. Natural, connected, at peace. 

“How was your day?” He asks, voice low and muddled by the rain tapping against the windowpane. 

Without turning, you respond with, “Normal. Nothing too crazy.” 

“What was your favorite part?” Simon pries gently, not wanting the conversation to end.

Now, you do turn. Leaning back against the edge of your desk, you grin. “Spending it with you.”

And it’s true. Regardless of the worries slowly but surely consuming you, it was nice to be with him. 

Swallowing, his pulse becomes thunderous in his ears, heart beating against his chest. He wants you, wants to feel you next to him. So, with great hesitancy, he requests, “C’mere.”

Excitement shoots through your limbs as you all too quickly prance over to him, ecstatic that he’s even asked. And your eagerness makes him smirk beneath the mask. Sitting yourself down on one of those round, swiveling chairs, you rest beside his left arm. Out of curiosity, you look down, eyeing his decorated forearm. His tattoos no longer look the same, some of them having changed with the healing of his stitches. 

“Bunch of bullshit.” Ghost murmurs, glancing down, too. “Paid good money for those.”

Laughing, you give your head a single shake. “They still look hot as hell.”

Eyes widening, he speaks before he can stop himself. “Really?”

With you being so close to him again, and now complimenting him, he feels like he’s soaring. 

“Fuck yeah.” You respond, as if it were obvious. To you, it is.

Impulsively, you lay a hand over his forearm, fingers brushing the black and white ink. And for a split second, it feels electric on his skin. But you’re quick to flinch away, wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m so sorry, did that hurt?”

But all he does is shrug. “Not at all. Stitches are healed, love.” 

Love. You swoon. 

“So, I can touch you?” It obviously isn’t meant to come off dirty, but Ghost’s brain registers it as that, anyway. 

“Of course you can.” He nearly blurts out, his tone hopeful and welcoming. And immediately, you’re wrapping both hands around his sleeve. The small hum he exudes prompts you to glance up, grinning at the sight. Ghost has closed his eyes, chest releasing a relaxing breath. 

“Feels nice.”

“Just this?” Humored doubt laces your tone. 

“Feels like ages since you’ve touched me.” 

His words twist the thoughts collecting in your head into something new. Has he… he’s wanted me to touch him?

“I know…” The way you say it expresses your sadness, your regret. “Just need you to heal, ya know?”

Because of what he’s now said, you feel the need to explain yourself, explain why you haven’t fulfilled his expectations. Throughout this entire healing process, you focused mostly on his physical health. You never once thought to tend to his emotional wellbeing. It’s a failure, on your end. 

“Does it,” Inhaling a motivating breath, he finishes with, “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

Lifting his arm slightly, he gestures to himself. “These stitches, the injuries.” 

Twisting your face in confusion, you lean back a bit. “Um… no? Why would they?”

“Just… missed your touch, is all.” He’s mumbling, quiet and very obviously insecure. “Missed you.”

“Baby… I’m so sorry.” All at once, regret hits you like a truck. He’s been suffering, and you’ve done nothing. “I’m sorry I haven’t done more for you.”

“You’ve done everything you needed to.”

“No, I haven’t. How could I let you feel this way?” 

An abrupt knock on the door dissipates your conversation into seemingly nothing. Instantly, you pull your hands away from him, turning in your chair to greet whoever’s about to approach. And to your delight, it’s Johnny.

“Hey Lt.” He grins, walking in and giving you a nod. “Lovely Bones.”

There’s that flirtatious nature again. As always, Ghost knew it meant nothing, not really. But now that he feels like you’re falling through his fingers, he wants to tighten his grasp now more than ever, wants to pull you back into his chest and never let you go, whisper all the sweet things he’s been dying to tell you. Especially when another man compliments you.

“How’ve ya been?” Striding forward, Johnny takes a seat opposite of Ghost’s bed. Spreading his legs and leaning in on his knees, he flashes that cheeky smile, giving Simon his full attention.

“I’ve been fine, Johnny. Nothing new.” Simon answers simply, almost in a kind of brain fog. Switching conversations so quickly is difficult for him, still trying to regain his focus from the incident. 

“See your scars are healin’ up nicely.” Pointing to his forearm, he nods. “That’s good to see.”

“Yeah, messed up my bloody ink, though.”

“Ah,” Soap waves a hand, “Looks better that way.” 

The team visited Simon fairly frequently. And since you’re by his side for ninety-five percent of the day, you get to see the guys every time they come by. Oftentimes, they’d bring him little treats, a snack from the cafeteria or his favorite energy drink. And while Ghost knew they had the best intentions, their pity disgusted him. Sometimes he wished they would just leave him alone. Especially now, considering the two of you were in the middle of a rather important discussion. 

“Oh!” Johnny then says, startling you. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieves a small package. Tossing it Simon’s way, Soap says, “Know you like these.”

Catching it easily, Simon reads the wrapping. A Snickers, he can’t remember the last time he had one of these. And that was mainly due to his brain injury. 

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“I know all this can’t be easy, Si. I’m for you, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ghost sighs, staring down at the candy bar. Johnny rarely called him Si, and it tugs at his heartstrings. 

Soap can feel something is off in the room, the energy is just weird. He’s been wanting to ask about your relationship, but hasn’t had the balls to. He doesn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable and hasn’t had the chance to be alone with Simon or you. 

“Well, I’ll let you lovebirds be.” Smiling cheekily, he stands. “I’ll visit again soon, yeah, Lt.?”

“‘Course, Johnny.” 

Before Johnny leaves, he offers you a hug, strong arms embracing you fully. And you rest against him, leaning into his sturdy frame. He’s been a great part of your support system since all of this happened; Simon’s injuries have only brought you and Johnny closer together. 

“It’ll be alright, yeah, sweetheart?” He sighs quietly against your head. Nodding, you take in a steadying breath.

“Yeah, it’ll be alright.” 

Another knock, another groan from your end. “Come in.”

Opening the door is the other half of the medical team assigned to Ghost, making their way in so they can clean. Their tasks were to change the sheets, wash Simon and his clothes, wipe down surfaces and mop the floor, the list goes on. And while you were more than happy to do these things, Simon wouldn't allow it. Ghost’s recovery prompted new boundaries to arise in your relationship, lines that he was firm on setting. The first regarding this exact circumstance; you already cared for him medically and he refused for you to do anymore, he didn’t want you to be his full time caregiver. He would never want to burden you with that, and he knows it would cause nothing but strife in your relationship. Besides, the mere thought of you changing his bedpan and regularly washing his sheets was humiliating. So, whenever it was time for those types of tasks, you left, fulfilling other duties. 

But why did they have to come now? 

“I’ll, um…” Turning back to Simon, you see he’s already looking toward you with a pleading gaze. Stay. 

All you want to do is stay. 

But at the same time, Simon doesn’t want you to see him this way. 

“I’ll… see you later, Si.”

Swallowing, Simon’s rough voice then appears. “Babe,”

Immediately, your eyes widen, if only ever so slightly. For him to call you that in the presence of others speaks volumes. Sure, Price had you sign those HR papers about workplace relationships, but you hadn’t exactly made it known to others after that. The two of you favored your privacy. But right now, that simple word is speaking louder than anything else he could’ve said.

“C’mere for a sec.” Grunting, he does his best to reach out to you, using his left arm. And as soon as he does it, Johnny is letting you go, wanting you to meet Simon’s gentle plea.

Leaving the sergeant’s arms, you do just that, stepping over to Simon’s bedside. Placing both of your hands in his left, you grin, looking into those deep, warm eyes of his. 

“You’ll come back, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly, your team beginning to work around him.

“Of course, I will.”

“Eh, won’t be long.” Johnny chimes in, “She can come hangout with me and the boys, get a game of pool in.”

“Sounds lovely.” You return with a murmur, eyes not leaving Simon’s. “I’ll be back later, baby.” And that, coupled with the kiss you give his palm, is shocking to your team. Though it sends waves of butterflies through Simon’s stomach. 

These public displays of affection are entirely foreign to your relationship, but you’re both basking in the sweetness of it. And maybe this is the perfect time for you to explore it, for you to outwardly show your love and attraction for him just when he needs it most. 

On your way out, Johnny doesn’t mention the way every single person’s eyes widen in the room when your affectionate nicknames are exchanged, or the way a few heads turn. He chooses to stay silent, smiling to himself while leading you out of the room. 

*

*

*

Returning to a sleeping Simon is bittersweet. You’re glad he’s resting, but you’d do anything to finish your earlier conversation. But it’s late, and you figure at this point, you’ll have to wait until morning.

The rainfall makes you tired, too, yawning as you walk further in. It was only three days into Simon’s recovery that you started sleeping in his room, bringing a small, foldable cot for you to curl up on. His bed wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and besides, you’re pretty sure Price would light a fire up both your asses if he caught you snoozing next to him. 

As quietly as you can, you unfold your small bed and bring it to the side of his. It sits lower, but Simon often made up for that by dropping his arm, letting you hold onto his hand throughout the night. But with him asleep, you don’t think you’ll get that luxury tonight. Nevertheless, you curl up in your blanket, resting only in your underclothes as you doze off beside him. 

“Miss you.”

That rumbling voice almost scares you in the near silence, your body jolting ever so slightly. When did he wake up? Still, those two simple words make your insides burn bright. 

Lips curling happily, you mutter, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Quietly, you then ask, “Want me to come up there?” It’s happened once or twice before, but only for some cuddles. Simon’s grown quite accustomed to your touch. 

With a heavy sigh, he gives in. “You know I do.”

Absolutely thrilled with his request, you pop right up, situating yourself on the right side of his bed. Simon likes it best when you curl up on this side, allowing him to wrap his good arm around you. Cuddling into him, you revel in the closeness - you haven’t done this in weeks. He’s resting on his back, the same position he always sleeps in. And with you by his side, he turns his head in your direction, releasing a contented breath. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” He says to you sweetly, fondly, covered lips pressing to the top of your head. 

“Hm…” Sighing happily, you twine your legs between his much bulkier appendages, draping an arm across his abdomen. You’re so happy he still wants this, wants you and this relationship. 

“Cozy?” He chuckles, eyes closed as he grins. 

“Mhm,” Snuggling further into him, he can feel your smile press against his bare skin. Ghost usually slept nearly naked, only black boxers hugging his body. And you liked it best this way, for multiple reasons. One being that you’re able to see more of his tattoos. He has some on his chest, one reaching up to his collarbones and neck. And you just love them, found them incredibly interesting and undeniably sexy.

“Love this…” Tracing a particularly larger tat, your smile becomes brighter than ever. “Love the way you feel.” 

“Yeah? Even when I’m like this?” His tone expresses the dry humor he’s far too familiar with, the same dry humor that covers up his emotions. 

“Big teddy bear.” And that makes him fully laugh. “Strong.”

“Don’t feel too strong.”

Simon was never one to be insecure of his body, of the multitude of scars on it. Cuts that dug deep, burns that marred his skin, none of it bothered him, not even when he showed himself to you like this. What did bother him, though, was the fact that he looked weak. He couldn't stand it, and to say his ego was taking a hit would be an understatement. 

“Baby,” With a heavy breath, you shake your head lightly beneath him. “You’re so fucking hard on yourself.”

All he does is grunt in response, becoming quite pensive. Though, he tries not to be. Getting lost in his thoughts wasn’t something Simon liked doing. Lucky for him, your hand serves as a distraction. Running your palm down his torso, you take this opportunity to feel the muscles along his stomach and ribs, the v-line leading down to his pelvis. And it makes him shiver with anticipation. 

You’re not sure how to start this conversation again, mainly because of how distracted you’ve become. Feeling Simon’s naked body always made you feel excited inside, always made you feel eager and lustful. But you want to care for him emotionally, too. 

“I hope you know how much I still love you.” Continuing to lower your hand, you suddenly feel Simon’s chest dip, releasing a heated breath. “How much I love your body…”

“Hm…” The further you get, the more interested he becomes. The fact that you still find him appealing, even like this, it’s repairing his ego bit by bit. Truthfully, it’s everything he’s needed. “Miss you touchin’ me…” 

“Do you miss this, too?” Lightly, ever so lightly, you cup him over his clothes. And the gentle stimulation is more than enough to arouse him.

The intimacy you share with Simon is addicting, and the withdrawal has been a bitch. But just like that, as soon as you get the tiniest taste, you’re hooked all over again. 

“Fuck, yes.” Groaning in frustration, he forces out a breath. And fuck you’ve missed that, hearing the eager roughness to his tone. “Been so long since I’ve had you.” 

Feeling your hand on his crotch like that, it lights a fire inside him. All over again, he wants you, wants to throw you down on this bed and take you. Shove himself inside until you’re fluttering, spurting with cum before he releases his own. Hold you down and make you take it, for however long he likes. Rub his face over your chest, down the valley between your breasts, sucking on their soft flesh. Haul your leg up over his waist and grab a fistful of your ass, spanking it until the pain turns into something irresistibly sweet. 

But he can’t. He physically can’t. 

The arm holding you tightens against your body, against your own strong muscles. Irritation courses through his veins, knowing he can’t do much but god damn if he won’t try to do what he can. Turning his head, he ducks down, pressing his covered lips to your own with a forceful breath. Easily, wholeheartedly, you embrace him, hand lifting to cup his jaw. Your mouth presses to the shape of his lips, the covered kiss far too teasing for the current moment. 

“Baby, can we? Please?” Sliding down ever so slightly, your fingertips graze the edge of his mask, wanting desperately to see him; any part of him.

“I… I want to, B.” The hesitancy in his voice is worrying. “But it just… it won’t be the same.” 

Even through the mask, you can feel his breath, experiencing the humid touch of it against your face. 

“I don’t care how it is, I just want it. I want you, Simon. I’ve missed you so fucking much.” Impatiently, you tug on his mask, leaning up against to press your mouth to his skull covering. It’s needy, it’s wanting, so openly throwing yourself at him he honestly can’t believe it. He hasn’t seen you like this in far too long, and he’d be an idiot to let this opportunity go, especially when it’s all he’s fucking thought about.

The way your tongue slides out, pressing against the white and black fabric, it makes him growl with passion. Quickly, yet shakily, his left hand rises, flipping the edge of his mask up before grabbing onto your jaw. Squishing your cheeks a bit he brings you in, bare lips crashing into your own. Open mouths press together, wet and warm and familiar. And those thick fingers dig into the fabric along your hip, wishing it were bare skin. 

“Baby,” With your fingernails scraping down his chest, you have to stop yourself from digging in too deeply. But it’s difficult when he’s kissing you like this, when he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth so he can map it out all over again. “How could you ever think I’m not attracted to you?” 

The air leaving your chest is instantly sucked back in, your chest rising and falling as you feel Simon’s hand glide down your waist. He’s bringing you in even closer, pressing your body to his, feeling your warmth. 

“Don’t you know how fucking sexy you are, Simon?”

“Get up here,” That gruff voice suddenly demands, “On my lap, B.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice, your eager movements are evidence of that. Slipping your shorts and panties down your legs, you leave them on the cot as you slide easily on top of him. Your thighs encase his hips as you make yourself comfortable on him, center lowered right onto his. And your lips don’t even leave, he wouldn’t allow it.

“That’s so good…” Both of Simon’s hands now fall to your hips, holding onto you firmly. 

The way his teeth nip at your lips makes you sigh, little whines spilling from your mouth when they turn into bites. And all at once, his hands are roaming your body, sliding up beneath your shirt to feel your bare stomach, the skin of your hips and sides. The way you’re embracing each other is so lustful, so impassioned and fervent. It’s like it’s the first time all over again.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” His words make you laugh, but he’s insistent. “Every goddamn day, whether you’re working or not, even on that bloody mission, you’re stunning, B.” 

“Simon,” You begin to protest, but he continues, mouthing at your lips as he bursts with praise for you. 

“Such a pretty girl for me,” Your lover says, hips beginning to grind up against you. “Always so pretty…” 

“Ugh, I fucking missed you. I need you, Si. I need this.” Holding his face with both hands, you lean in, resting your forehead over his own as you begin to meet his gentle thrusts. “I don’t give a shit how many scars you have, how many injuries I have to see through. I’m here, Simon. I’m here and I’m not fucking leaving you.”

“I love you.” He suddenly blurts out, as if he’d been dying to say it this entire time. “I can’t lose you, B. Never opened myself up to anyone but you.” 

“I know, baby. I know… and I love everything you’ve given me. Everything you are.”

“Not everything.” Giving his head a quick shake, hands guiding the sway of your hips over him. 

“Everything.” 

Your correction prompts Simon’s direct eye contact, a small pause in this heated moment. Flickering between your irises, Ghost’s own pupils widen, filled with something akin to adoration, something made of lust and absolute devotion. 

“Simon,” Whining quietly, you resume your subtle shifts over his lap, his own hips easily resuming their pace, too. “Please, I need you again, baby.” 

“I, I just… it won’t be the same, Bones.” But he’s still kissing you, still grinding up against your sensitive core and breathing the air puffing past your lips. And you can feel him, having fully hardened and sitting firm between your legs. 

“I don’t fucking care, Simon. If you want this, tell me. And I’ll make it happen.”

“Yeah? And what’ll you do?” He asks, grinning while lifting his good hand to the back of your head.

“Ride you,” Panting, you grind yourself over the thickness of the erection rising steadily in his briefs. “Just like I used to.”

Betraying his rotten inner emotions, the ones that had convinced him you no longer saw him with the same desire in your eyes, a smirk forms on those smooth lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Devouring him, your tongue slides into his mouth, swallowing his moan while dragging the wet muscle over his own. But he quickly takes the lead, using the hand on your head to move you how he likes. He takes great pleasure in this, in having some semblance of control while you’re like this. 

“Fuck, do it.” He finally decides, his entire body shuddering with desire. “Fucking do it.”

Instantly, you’re dropping one hand from his face and reaching for his boxers. You find him easily, pulling aside the fabric and watching as he practically jumps into your hand. 

“Christ,” Red and leaking, throbbing, Simon’s cock weighs heavy in your hand.

“Excited?” Grinning wildly, you lean in, running the tip of your nose over his cheek. 

“Very.” Evidenced by the liquid warmth drooling from his cockhead, he’s correct. 

Running your thumb over his slit, you take great pride in watching him twitch. “Don - Don’t tease. Just put it in.”

It’s too damn easy for you to listen to him, to follow his every command. Lifting yourself, your eyes fall to the sight you’ve so dearly missed. And with both of you watching, you line him up with your entrance, licking your lower lip with anticipation. 

“C’mon, come down now…” His hands are pulling on your hips, becoming impatient. “Put the tip of my cock against that pretty little hole.”

Fuck, you missed this, the way he talked to you during times like this. He was always so good with it.

“Mm…” Slowly, you sink down, inch by thick inch. The whine that slips past your lips is shrill, feeling his head spread you open. But Simon is quick to hush you, bringing you in for a bruising kiss. 

“You can do it, just like before.” He says to you through sweet, wet kisses. 

“Simon…”

“Just like that, just like that, princess.” His hands continue to urge you on, pulling you down onto him. “What happened, huh? Get a little tighter without me around?”

“F-Fuck,” Dropping your head onto his shoulder boosts his confidence incredibly; your submissive side is coming out again, and it’s making him feel dominant. 

“Oh, just look at the way it stretches for me, Christ…” Feeling your velvety inside envelope his tip, it’s almost too much for him. “Such a good pussy.”

“Baby…” Turning your head, you press a flurry of fervent kisses to his mask. “I’ve needed you for so long, you don’t know how bad I’ve missed this.” 

“I know, trust me.” Releasing a dry laugh, Simon’s eyes raise with awareness. 

Clinging to his shoulders, you gasp when he finally bottoms out inside you, sitting entirely over his pelvis. And with your ass flush against his lap, he throbs violently against your walls, every thick vein pulsing beneath your core’s hot squeeze.

“Sweetheart,” Taking in a lungful of air, he says, “You know how many times I’ve thought about this? Thought about fuckin’ you again? Thought about this sweet ass on my lap, about the way this pretty pussy grips me…” 

 “Tell me,” Clinging to his shoulders, your nails dig into him once again, lips pressing to his neck. “Please tell me.”

Wrapping his right arm around your back, he pulls you flush against his chest. The sudden movement knocks you away from his neck, with Simon’s lips returning to yours all over again. The embrace is sweet and smooth, his talented lips captivating your attention. 

“Whenever you weren’t here… I took every goddamn opportunity. Fucked my fist to the thought of you, B. But, ngh…” Feeling you wiggle over his lap, he grunts. “It’s never the same. Not even bloody close.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Using those broad shoulders as leverage, you lift yourself, setting a steady pace over him. 

“Christ,” Head lolling back, his eyes follow. “Didn’t, fuck… didn’t want to pressure you.”

“I like when you do that to me. Make me feel small, and needed.” 

The stride you continue with over Simon’s lap is baffling to him, riddling his body with overstimulation. Every time you meet his pelvis, you grind down onto him, onto the grown-out hairs surrounding his base. 

“You’re always needed.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek as it rests beside him. “Fucking hell, princess, I can feel you dripping down my shaft.” 

The sound your wetness creates resonates throughout the room, prompting a bashfulness to rise hotly in your cheeks. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder, you moan openly into his ear, feeling both of those broad hands lower to your cheeks. Summoning every ounce of strength he has, he bounces you down onto his lap, punching himself into your depths. And every thrust he gives shoves him even deeper inside, his tip nudging your most sensitive skin. 

“No,” He then seethes, moving his head in your direction. “Don’t hide yourself from me, not now. Not when I finally have you again.”

But when he turns his head to the side, his mask shifts, a bout of frustration rising within him. “Fucking, ngh.”

It’s a quick decision, one he makes out of genuine love for you. 

Reaching up, Simon tears his mask from his head, tossing it to the floor and grabbing your face again. Before you can get a good look at him, his mouth is on you, the hand he used on his mask now pawing at your breasts. 

“Take it off, love. Take this off for me.” 

But you’re still processing the fact that he just took off his mask, and you want to see him. He doesn’t let you, though, he’s too busy tugging at the ends of your shirt. So, you oblige him, leaning back to lift it from your torso. Just as it leaves your head, Simon is lifting his chin up to your chest, mouth enveloping your left nipple. 

“Baby, let me,” Hands holding his head, your own tips back, mouth falling agape with a graceful moan. 

Ghost’s mouth sucks on you fervently, tongue flicking over the delicate peak before biting at it ever so gently. 

“Please let me see you.”

Insecurity overtakes him then, now that you’ve fully asked. And you can tell - he practically curls in on himself. 

“You don’t want me to?” And with that gentle inquiry, he’s taking in a steadying breath, eyes beginning to lift. 

From beneath his brow, those dark eyes lift to yours, chin following soon after. And for the first time since this horrid incident, you’re seeing him, fully seeing him. 

“No,” Giving his head a light shake, he stares into your dazzling orbs. “Don’t stop, babe. Please, don’t.” 

And you want to listen, want to give him what he wants but it’s hard when you’re witnessing the beauty of Simon’s face. The scars, the cuts and curves, his nose and jawline, all of his features coming together as one, once again. The memory of his face was once a painful thought, but now… it can be replaced. 

“It’s so nice to see you again, baby.” 

The strength of his arms and hands continues your movement, pushing you forward onto his chest. Here, he nuzzles into you, arms securing themselves around your midsection. Simon’s nose rubs against your neck, committing your scent, your feel, to memory. 

“Only for you.” He murmurs, placing a tender kiss. “Can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” 

“You’re everything I need.” Grinding up into your center, he forces a gasp from your chest, spreading your cheeks until slight pain begins to bloom. “Christ, I’m not going to last long like this, not with these gorgeous fucking tits pressed against me like this.”

“Baby, we need this more… can we please? Please?”

“Every chance we get.” Nipping at your ear, the low groan he exudes sends a shiver right through you. 

The pleasurable waves flowing through your hips are nothing compared to the sharp jolts of ecstasy every thrust of his hips gives. At times, you think about how foolish he is to think that his strength has left him, what with the way his muscles bend and ripple with every firm grab, every harsh slap he now delivers. 

“Look at me.” Ghost demands in that deep, rough tone. “Look at me, and listen well.”

Lifting your head, you do just that, memorizing every feature of his face. Subconsciously, your hand lifts, cupping his clean jawline with your thumb stroking his cheek. 

“You’re mine, understand? Mine to fucking keep. And there’ll be no more misunderstandings between us.”

“No more,” Shaking your head, you hold his gaze, lips parting from his continued movements. “F-Fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me, huh? Just like you used to? Back when you first cared for me, back when we’d smoke in the Jeep…”

“Yes,” You don’t want to look away from him, but your head drops regardless. The pleasure flowing through your thighs turns every muscle you have to jelly, the wetness growing beneath you evidence of this. “I miss it.”

“Then give it to me, before I give mine to you.” 

The way he phrases it has you falling apart in his arms, still strong enough to keep you together on his chest. His body, thick and bulky, holds you tightly against him, feeling your limbs quiver above him. His fingers continue to dig into the softness of your cheeks before landing another harsh smack, listening to your shrill cry while you shake on his lap. It’s all-consuming, blinding, the euphoria bursting inside your body. 

“Goddamn,” Simon huffs out, his voice tense and strained. 

The grip he has on you turns bruising, his body curling around you as he releases. And his teeth bite into your shoulder as he does, the muscles in his abdomen flinching with every milky rope that leaves him. 

You can feel it, the evidence of his pleasure washing your insides white. The way he throbs against your walls, swollen and pulsing, his entire body releasing. Every ounce of worry and stress, any bit of anxiety, it’s flushed away with the help of your reassurance, of your devotion and unwavering passion. 

Fully wrapping your arms around his neck, you rest flush against him, mouth pressing to his stubbled cheek over and over again. And the next sound to delight your ears is Simon’s laugh. 

“Mm…” His groan sounds… content, relaxed. “You make me happy, B. Happier than I’ve been in… a long time.” 

“Happier than you’ve ever been,” You correct him cheekily, shuddering slightly as you come down from the pleasure he so wonderfully brings. “You can say it, baby.” 

Rolling his eyes, he gives your backside a light tap. “Don’t get cocky with it, now.” 

“Simon,” Inhaling a deep breath, you allow yourself to be fully vulnerable with him. “I don’t ever want to be that far from you again.”

And he knows what you mean. Ghost was never known as an emotional man, and likely never will be. But with you, it’s a different story. 

“You won’t be.” He reassures you quietly, calmly. “We’re here, everything’s just like it should be.”

“Mhm,” Nodding, you keep your arms around him, not wanting to let go. 

“It’s just you and me, B.” 

[psychics4unet]

(PAC) What Will Your Future Spouse’s Home Look Like? 🏠✨

Instructions: Look at the 3 images of the piles below. Choose the pile that you feel most drawn to. Trust your intuition and select the one that resonates with you the most. Once you have made your choice, scroll down to read the description for the pile you selected.

I put a lot of effort into this reading, so please show some love by leaving comments, likes, reblogs, and follow me! ❤️💬✨

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Pile 1:

The Magician 🎩, The Four of Wands 🎉, The Hermit 🌟

The Magician shows a home where creativity and personalization shine, with unique touches that reflect innovation. The Four of Wands suggests a space filled with celebration and joy, perfect for hosting gatherings and special events. The Hermit indicates a cozy, reflective area for solitude and personal peace. Together, these cards reveal a home that balances vibrant social spaces with serene retreats, blending creativity, celebration, and introspection into a harmonious living environment. 🏡✨

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Pile 2:

The Empress 🌸, The Ten of Pentacles 💰, The Five of Cups 🌧️

The Empress points to a home that is nurturing and full of natural beauty, creating a cozy and lush environment. The Ten of Pentacles indicates a stable and possibly luxurious setting, with a focus on comfort and long-term security. The Five of Cups suggests that there may be elements of the home that address past disappointments, offering space for healing and moving forward. Together, these cards suggest a home that combines comfort and abundance with a supportive atmosphere for emotional growth and recovery. 🌿🏠💖

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Pile 3:

The Star 🌟, The King of Cups 💧, The Tower ⚡

The Star indicates a home filled with inspiration and renewal, offering a hopeful and uplifting atmosphere. The King of Cups suggests an emotionally balanced and mature environment, fostering deep connections and understanding. The Tower points to dramatic changes or transformations, which might mean the home undergoes significant renovations or shifts to reflect new beginnings. Combined, these cards suggest a home that evolves into a space of hope, emotional depth, and transformative energy. 🌠🏡🔄

Love this post? Spread the positive vibes by reblogging with your favorite pile number! Remember to like, comment, and follow me for more tarot insights and spiritual guidance. By sharing this post, you'll invite positive energy from the universe into your life. Let's journey together towards enlightenment and fulfillment! 🌟💫

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best. Remember to reblog, like, comment, and follow for more cosmic guidance and positivity!

Paid readings (7 questions for just $7) are also available for more in-depth insights and personal guidance! 🌟💫

[keesdarlin]

☆// mine, yours (MDNI 18+)

info! 141 / fluff, established relationship (sort of) + gender neutral reader

cw! implied past self hatred, negative self image, mental health recovery, healing vibes

prompt! "i wanna be mine, wanna be yours" Mine / Yours by Wilbur Soot

notes! god i'm Really trying to not make it a habit to use wilbur soot lyrics as prompts but it's hard when they're so good please forgive me. also just as a disclaimer, the whole "you have to love yourself before you can be loved by someone else" thing is bullshit. date who you want when you want. the only thing that matters is that you actually want to get there with yourself

PRICE:

honestly, john is the king of praise and reassurance. he sees how much you struggle sometimes, especially with your faith in your skills. as a solution, he finds ways to give you lots of praise for your hard work on the side. it’s hardly in front of other recruits or, god forbid, the rest of the 141 guys, but only because he doesn’t feel like getting accused of picking favorites (even though everyone already knows anyways). besides, that praise isn’t for everyone else. it’s for you. he never gives you pointers unprompted because he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s rushing you along. he tries his best to give you the room to take things at your own pace. always asks if he can give you an idea to maybe make things easier or if he should explain something in a different way. every once in a while you have a day where whatever you’re doing is just a little bit… more than usual. a little bit more difficult, taking a little bit more time, requiring a little bit more focus than you’re used to. john spends a little bit more time with you on those days, not to babysit you or coddle you, but just to make sure that you’re feeling alright about things. when you finally get it right, he can’t help but break out in a grin with a quiet, “good job, sergeant.”

GAZ:

gaz is huge on compliments. he’s always the first one to tell you how amazing you look every day. it’s easy to struggle with loving the way you look, he knows, so he does his best to try and mitigate that. don’t get him wrong; he’s not complimenting you out of obligation or pity. he compliments you because he believes it and he wants you to believe it too. will compliment anything from your makeup (if you wear any) to your outfit to your new shoes. he just thinks you’re the shit.

kyle also puts a lot of focus on acts of service. although you’re on a journey of self love and learning how to be healthily independent rather than hyper-independent, there’s a lot of skill to build in areas where it comes to when and if you should be leaning on other people. it’s hard, he knows, but he wants to help you practice! so he watches you, surprisingly in tune with your needs, and tries to meet you halfway. it’s not that he doesn’t think that you can do it yourself. in fact, he’s certain that you can. it’s more that this is his way of helping teach you that it’s alright to accept help. he doesn’t always ask first, but he’ll do a little something when he knows you’ve had a rough day. when he sees the exhaustion that hides in the way that you roll your neck, or the way that your shoulders hike up to your ears with anxiety, or the tired sigh that leaves your lips when you finally get a chance to sit down. and it’s not always something big. usually him doing your dishes “on accident” or because he had the extra time, or making a little extra dinner for you so that you don’t have to make your own, or bringing you a glass of water even though you didn’t ask for one. he knows he doesn’t have to, he knows that you’re capable of doing all this stuff yourself, but he wants you to know that you’re not going it alone. not as long as he’s there.

SOAP:

johnny uses a lot of patience and encouragement with you, mostly in moments of frustration, and sometimes a little instruction. an aspect of the self care journey that you find yourself struggling a lot with is remembering to be patient with yourself. you can sometimes find yourself going off the rails a little bit, but soap is here to help reel you back in. without sounding patronizing, he’ll remind you to take a step back from the situation for a second, take a breath, go for a walk, whatever you need to do to zone in, and then come back after.

one day you’re down at the shooting range when the frustration hits. normally, you’re a pretty good shot, but for some reason today you can’t hit near the middle of the target for the life of you. another shot missed and you sigh sharply, barely managing to stifle the groan and curses that threaten to escape you.

“you doing alright?” soap asks from somewhere behind you.

“fine, thanks,” you mutter through clenched teeth. you don’t bother to look back at him, closing one eye as you try to focus your aim.

soap hums. steps forward, sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. you take the hint and lower your gun, huffing as you turn to look at him. “alright. you’re doing pretty well so far, but let’s take a deep breath and try it all again, aye bonnie? i’ll help.”

you roll your eyes but inhale deep anyways. soap nods as he watches your shoulders fall with the exhale. “good job, lamb. now come ‘ere. ‘m gonna help you adjust to this gun.”

GHOST:

simon doesn’t tolerate negative self-talk. you guys talked about it once, how you want to be better about being kind to yourself. sure, sometimes that can mean taking a self care day or going out for a night with some friends or sitting down and taking some time to do something intentional. but those all have the potential to be pretty time consuming. something you can do every day, all the time no matter what you might be up to is saying something nice about yourself. it’s definitely weird the first few times; you didn’t realize before how much shit you talk about yourself every day, so the new hyper-awareness is a little bit anxiety-inducing. but once you adjust to the strangeness of it, it actually starts to feel kind of nice. every time you say something kind about yourself and find yourself meaning it, a spot of pride pulses warmly in your chest. it can still be difficult sometimes. some days, when things feel a little bit darker, a little bit heavier, you find yourself insulting your mistakes and talking down to yourself. but simon is right there with you to remind you. “you wanna try that again?” he asks nonchalantly when he hears you utter a quiet ‘oof, i’m dumb.’

you blush, but nod. “yeah, sorry. uhm… i’m not dumb, i’m just distracted and i’ll do better.”

he never gives a verbal response to your self-compliments, just a nod and, if you’re lucky, a little smile.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Mapi x reader where reader gets sent home from the World Cup through an injury and mapi looks after her ?

Ficlet no 1! Thank you for sending me this prompt and I hope you like it! I'm not too sure I like the ending so much but it was good to get back to writing.

Your journey in Australia wasn't meant to end when it did, you were meant to reach the final with the rest of your team but an unfortunate slip from an opposing player in the second half of your 3rd group game meant you were on a flight back home. The England camp had offered to get you help and treatment in Australia so you could stay with the squad but you had decided it was best to head back to your club team and start recovery there. That and you didn't want to do this alone and your love was back in Spain. 

Mapi greeted you at the airport with open arms and a slightly sorry smile. “Let's get you home mi amor.” You didn't say much to that, just nodded your head where you had rested it in the crook of her neck. Mapi took your backpack from you so you could just focus on crutching your way to the car, your suitcases having been taken by your team so you didn't have to worry about them. 

You didn't have to be at the medical facility until tomorrow, the team having seen the x-ray you had done back in Australia and deeming it okay for you to have the day to unwind. You also had the jet lag to get over being as when you pulled up to your shared apartment with Mapi, it was 10am local time but for your body clock it was about 6pm. You prayed that the on and off sleep you got on the plane would be enough for you to be able to stay awake until bedtime here. 

Mapi took your bag upstairs and came back down with your fave old t-shirt of hers and a pair of shorts, the spanish summer being in full force meant that you had to adjust to the climate change too. She helped you into the bathroom and into the walk-in shower where she held you as you cried about the missed tournament and washed your hair when you were ready to get out. 

Mapi had got the next few days off of training so she could be there for you and help you and although you tried to protest at first you were so very grateful for the woman. You couldn't do this on your own, there was too much pain not just physically but mentally. 

Mapi escorted you to every appointment and was the first face you saw when you woke up from surgery, she didn't leave you alone unless you asked her too and she made sure you were as happy and comfortable as you could be. She watched your lionesses in the games that you did and that is something you would never forget. Not after all she had been through surrounding her national team and the tournament. 

When the final was confirmed as England vs Spain you didn't know how to feel. You and Mapi had not spoken yet about her thoughts surrounding the teammates you shared that went back on the letter and were there so this was probably the worst final the two of you could have gotten. 

You had spoken to Leah on the phone the other night when she landed in Australia about your sadness at picking up the injury and not being there and how she must feel too. It was easy to talk to her and get the advice she had for you and you were so happy she got to go watch them in person. Her love for football was contagious. 

On the evening before the final you and Mapi sat down to talk, she had told you she couldn't watch the game but she wanted you too so she was going to go for an extra session in the gym if that was okay with you. Which of course it was you didn't want to put her through the harm of watching a team she should be on. 

You watched your team play their hearts out, you had your Mary Earps shirt on in honour of her fight for Nike to print her shirt and you couldn't be prouder. When the final whistle blew and it confirmed the loss you were heart broken for the girl. You were quick to pull up your group chat and send a message off that you hoped would help them and make them see they did your country proud before you closed the TV off. You couldn't watch the Spanish side pick up the trophy, not today. You were just pulling on your shoes when the front door clicked open and Mapi walked through, take-out bag in hand. 

“I was just about to head out to come find you. I have a 30 minute walk to do today which would have gotten me to the gym.” You explained as you tugged your half on the shoe back off again. 

“As soon as the final whistle blew I made sure I was heading back to you. I'm sorry he won.” You knew what he she was talking about and you knew that Mapi was going to struggle with this for a while. Playing for your country is always such an honour but not when you have to be abused to do it. 

“I’m sorry he won too. Let's not talk about it, it doesn't deserve our time. What have you got here?” You grabbed the bag off the fake blonde and headed for the kitchen, your stomach letting you know how hungry you actually were. 

It might not have been the result either of you had wanted and the injury you picked up was also another reason to want to put this world cup behind you, but what did shine through is the love you and Mapi had for each other. No matter what was thrown your way you would deal with it together.

[pistachiofiasco]

fevers, medicines, fights

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader Genre: fluff, comfort Words: 2832 Warnings: n/a

Also on AO3!

i finally finished this lmfao it ended up so much longer than i thought it would don't mind me everyone, i'm just happy that i'm finally working towards living my best life and it apparently starts with incredibly self-indulgent fanfics for my favourite menace to society

You could tell as the carriage slowed that your plan to maintain at least some level of dignity and grace had already fallen to pieces.

A short but pleasant trip back to Rhodolite, but a difficult journey home to Obsidian. The changeable weather and the days long travel time had left your body sore and tired, compounding into a minor fever and a not so minor headache. Recovery would likely take a few days of solid rest. It would be such an unremarkable occurrence, if the man waiting beyond the comforting dark of the carriage was anyone other than Gilbert Von Obsidian.

The soft jolt as the carriage stopped felt like a (metaphorical) nail in a (metaphorical) coffin, which somehow didn't feel so metaphorical the longer you waited to step out. The outcome was a forgone conclusion, you knew, but still. An attempt (to delay the inevitable) couldn't be held against you.

A nervous "my lady?" from outside the door told you you had to move, dizziness and queasiness be damned. Even through the dark wood of the carriage, you could feel the increasing pressure of Gilbert's presence on everyone present. He had probably already figured something was wrong.

Pushing up the latch, letting the door swing open, teeth grit against the unsteadiness as you pushed and pulled the heavy (and, made with all his (excessively jealous) love or not, currently infuriating) layers of your dress to at least let you avoid stumbling out like a drunken fool. Or worse.

One foot at a time. You can do this. Just one foot at a time.

One foot at the edge. The driver, from his position by the door, seemed to sag in relief. You spared a glance in his direction as you pressed forward, down to the carriage step, wanting to convey at least some sort of "thanks" and "sorry" and "I promise I won't let him kill you". It was too bright though; you couldn't make out his face as you squinted in the sunlight under blue Obsidian skies.

Your foot landed heavy on the metal step and you could feel your weight shift uncertainly. The tremor of it shot up through you, sending another quake through the back of your skull. Panic was curbed by grim determination. You were not going to fall on your face in front of Gilbert and all these people. You were, however, definitely going to break your heel and possibly sprain your ankle.

Momentum carried you forward and even through the heavy pulsing in your head, the rolling in your gut, and the flush of gross sticky sweat dripping down the back of your neck, you could swear you heard a collective sharp breath. A harmony of dread and despair – Gilbert truly had picked people who could read the situation very well.

Eyes on your feet, you watched with bated breath as the ground drew closer. Even the slightly glossy polished stones made you squint in a blurry glare, as you waited for the impact, the snap of the boot heel, the twist and pain of your ankle rolling. It would spare you from the sting of scrapes and cuts and humiliation at least.

The heel hit the paved stones hard and you felt the shock of it jar its way up your leg, your body, in your head. The pounding increased and the sun bore down and you could feel your teeth grit against the urge to empty your guts on the steps of the Obsidian palace.

You heard, more than felt, the snap of you boot heel. Black gloved hands, black cape, black hair were all already there before you could lose balance, before your other foot could come down to brace you. Hands holding you steady, cape blocking the gleam off paved stones, black hair as good a place as any to bury your face until the world stopped tipping and sliding in all manner of directions.

"Little rabbit."

There was a warning there, more than a question. What the point of warning you now was, you had no clue. You had already crossed the line into 'clearly not healthy and not okay', there was no point picking a fight about it now. You found you didn't have the energy to say it though, instead sighing heavily against his neck.

The black shifted, hands moving to grip you tighter, head ducking to brush hair closer. "Little rabbit." There was an edge now; you were on very thin ice. You knew what he wanted, tried to pull forth the energy to respond. You had been telling him so often to communicate when he wasn't feeling well; you couldn't be a hypocrite now. You could do this, just a few quick words, just the bare bone basics. Not feeling well, rough trip and the weather was unkind, I'm okay, I'm not lying, I'll be fine after some rest, just help me get to bed.

Later you'd wonder if you got anything other than "bed" out audibly. As it was, even through the banging of drums in your head, you could tell the air had shifted. The blazing sun felt so far away now, Gilbert's temper chilling against your sweat soaked skin. Words were said over your head, sharp and cutting and clear enough that you could see the image of his daunting smile behind closed eyes in the dark kindness of his neck. Arms moving, shifting under you to lift you like a child even with all the layers of fabric weighing you down. Against the sticky skin of your forehead, you could feel the fast beat of his pulse under his jaw.

Go to Rhodolite for visit with entourage. Write multiple letters saying you're okay. Get sick on return journey. Announce arrival by almost collapsing out of the carriage. Well done me.

Breathing deep, you tried steadying yourself in familiar smells. The medicinal tone was still there, undercutting everything, but it had become increasingly overpowered by something warmer, headier, sweeter, (healthier). Always there was a whiff of vanilla on Gilbert now, as if the delicacies he'd raided from your kitchen clung to him as evidence of his (comparatively petty) crimes.

The thought brought a smile to your lips. He'd been using your vanilla syrup. You could smell it on his breath, despite having hidden it away before you left. Bad man.

As he lifted you, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck. You turned your head to meet his gaze, and finally get a glimpse of his face after almost a month away. You'd missed him too, after all (though he'd never be fully convinced, never fully understand just how much; how often you thought of him, wanting to show him and share with him the things that brought you joy and the things that reminded you of him. He still considered it going back to Rhodolite, after all, not coming home to Obsidian, coming home to him).

That red eye finally entered your line of sight and you felt your chest clench. There was a look there, beyond the anger ("you said you were fine, were you lying to me") and worry ("someone is going to die if this can't be fixed"). There was a panic, wholly unfamiliar to you. To him as well, it seemed. When your mind is clearer, you might be able to follow the thread of his feelings (you were always better at understanding him than himself). And you might consider how long it has been since Gilbert Von Obsidian has loved anyone, and what happened to the people he had loved before. And, most pertinently, where it had happened. But your head was still spinning, such thoughts feeling far beyond you at the moment. But you knew Gil (not The Conqueror Beast, The Worldwide Disaster, The Emperor Gilbert Von Obsidian, but Gil, just your Gil) still needed something from you.

"Gilbert." It was quieter than you intended, breathier too. You weren't aware of how you were breathing before, but the scratchiness of your throat made you realise you might have been panting. Swallowing you tried again, the sound more in focus this time, with more strength behind it. His eye never left you. "Rest with me?"

It was a question, more than a demand. What the point in either was you weren't sure; you (both) knew this man would deny you hardly anything you asked of him.

You were barely moving as he carried you, extra care being taken to not jostle you in the slightest, all the way back to his room.

A gentle kiss pressed against the skin of his neck, the smell of vanilla right under your nose, safe arms wrapped firmly around you. You were asleep before you even made it to the castle doors.

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

"You're awake, little rabbit."

Turning your head, you found Gilbert set up on his side of the bed. There was a strange wooden table, L shaped, jutting over from the edge of the bed frame. Reports and paperwork were laid across it and more were stacked on his bedside table, along with an ink pot and pen (vaguely you recalled a comment you had made weeks ago, half asleep, curled into his chest, holding on to him as he made to move to his desk. You had told him to make a table that wouldn't require him to leave the bed and he had laughed ecstatically as he attempted to peal your fingers from his shirt (you both knew he could have easily broken away from you, you both knew that he was exceptionally delighted at your display of clinginess, and you both knew that he would – lovingly – hold it over your head and you would – lovingly – deny any memory of it)).

Looking back at him, you watched as he pushed the table, turning it away from the bed (he had added a rotating hinge to it, of course he had, the show-off). He shifted back to you, leaning over to brush back some of the hair stuck to your face.

He was moving gently, more gently than you'd ever seen him. You smiled at him, calling his name and reaching for him, and watched as he breathed out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing.  The shadows under his eyes were darker than usual. Well, eye. The eyepatch was in place.

"Are you okay?" You reached out to him, hands finding his neck to play with the black strands there. The aching stiffness in your body and the heaviness in your limbs suggested you had been lying here for definitely more than just a day. He looked vaguely unamused at the question; his usual smile had a slight tilt to it that you could tell was fondness, with just a hint of exasperation. Clearly in no rush to answer, he fiddled with the stands of your hair, adjusted your duvet. He didn't seem mad at least and he wasn't throwing out threats of conquering nations so he wasn't sulking either. As he made eye contact with you again, his smile turned somewhat rueful.

"You, little rabbit, are a terrible patient."

"Excuse me?" That hadn't been what you were expecting.

"You sulked every time I asked you to eat something and you refused to take your medicine. You wouldn't listen to me even though I was clearly trying to help you."

Pot meet kettle, anyone?!

You stared at him, trying to parse if this was a joke or jibe, payback for sleeping for too long. He was still brushing your hair back, smile in place. Squinting, you read the lines of his face, his eyes, his lips. He wasn't joking.

Oh, you little...

"Well..." you said, and his one neat eyebrow went up at the sickeningly sweet tone, “now we both know what that's like, don't we?" Your tone was something of a surprise to both of you, with more attitude and more needling than you had intended. Maybe you were slightly offended. Briefly, you wondered if you might have cause to regret this confrontation. He seemed to find it incredibly amusing, lips widening into something more genuine (more childish, like having a spat with his significant other was enough for him to be having the time of his life).

"Are you calling me difficult, little rabbit?" He leaned in further, hovering over you on the bed. He meant to intimidate, certainly, and on another topic you might have backed down. But Gilbert von Obsidian called you a 'difficult patient' and that was not a fight you would run from.

"Well, you're no peach, that's for sure." You tone was dry, nose turned up and, taking a leaf out of his book, you raised one eyebrow back at him.

"That's incredibly hurtful, little rabbit. And after all the effort I went to to help you recover."

You could have caved, softened, and thanked him for clearly watching over you the entire time you were bedridden (there was still a tension, etched in the lines of his neck and shoulders, from worry he wouldn't easily own to – your heart clenched at the idea of what he might have felt sitting and waiting beside you, what memories it might have dragged up). But you were still a bit miffed and his smile was brighter with every word you said, so today you wouldn't give in so easily.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you went through so much looking after little old me."

"Are you mocking my efforts to help you, little rabbit?"

"Are you mocking mine, Your Majesty?"

You stared at each other in silence, eyes narrowed in challenge. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the fever or the still present heaviness across your body and your head. Or maybe you were just having that much fun in this quiet moment with your not-yet-husband(-but-definitely-eventually-going-to-be). There was a quiver on your lips that his eye immediately dropped to and there was no helping the laughter bubbling beneath your next words. "Walter likes me better anyway."

His eye went wide, mouth just slightly open in the Gilbert equivalent of jaw dropped. You had very genuinely surprised him with that one and it was so very rare to see this man speechless. You took in the expression for just a moment, before rolling away, attempting to muffle the snort that you knew you couldn't stop. He would never let you get far though.

As you buried your face in your pillow, you felt the bed shift as Gilbert lunged for you. Deft fingers and evasive hands grasped you, finding that spot on your side that made you shriek with laughter. He was persistent too, half pinning you down as you yelled his name and reached back to try push him away. Tears leaked from your eyes as he pulled you back towards him, turning you in the circle of his arms, still unrelenting, his face a blur of malicious glee. You gripped his fingers, crying for mercy as he finally stopped. You blinked away tears to stare up at him, hovering over you once again, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, with his grin stretched to face splitting proportions.

Reaching up the cup his cheeks gently, you brushed under his eyes, trailing over the new dark circles and creases there. You felt your chest swell once again with how much affection you had for this man, and with the knowledge of just how precious you were to him. You didn't even need to consider everything - just the look on his face was enough. His eye was sparkling, even in his own shadow, and his smile was softer, sweeter; this expression was the most 'truth' that Gilbert could ever offer you. He said nothing, content to watch and rest his face in your palms, enjoying the light pressure of your fingers moving across his face, down his nose, against his lips. He couldn't help take a little nip, quick and sharp enough to hurt surely, but you didn't even flinch.

"...Thank you, Gil, for taking care of me."

Your tone might have been too sincere, too loaded with everything else you wanted to say but didn't have the words for. Perhaps if your feelings weren't so strong, didn't sometimes make it hard to breathe when you so much as thought of him, it might have been easier for the words to leave your mouth. But as it was, you found them, so many thoughts and feelings clambering to get out, stuck in your throat. Gilbert knew you, better than anyone else (though Mr Akatsuki and Rio would strongly disagree). Gilbert recognised everything you wanted to say, all of it culminating in three tiny little words ("I love you I love you I love you") that you pressed against his lips.

He kissed you short and sweet and you kissed him soft and warm. Again and again, until he hummed and pulled back to smile at you again, brilliant and dazzling and radiant.

idk if this makes sense to anyone else but sometimes canon!MC is a little too puppy-coded for me and i need a more cat-coded interactions (but that might just be me who knows)

gilbert taglist: @scummy-writes

[dflogerzi]

Hello friends. Okay, I spent some time offline, and did speak in length to a dear friend in England today. I think I understand a few things more. Firstly... there are no rules. And this is my timeline, and I get to change it as I see fit. When I first came to Tumblr it was for one purpose, I kid you not. I knew that Meghan Markle was in her supposed first pregnancy... and I knew it was a lie. I have carried a baby, I know how it works, and she was in my opinion lying. This timeframe coincided with my recent awakening of world events and falling down other rabbit holes.

I was gung-ho on both. And I must say, the world events thing did not serve me well on social media. I have never found it beneficial to argue with others about things we do not agree with. And so a few months into my profile building here on Tumblr and connecting I set my own rules on what it is I am here for. And trust me... the people I have connected with mean so much to me. Now then... I do follow some who I only give out likes to and more private conversations. You know who you are. So for the record I am going to be clear of who I am.

I served under Ronald Reagan while in the Navy. I was always more on the conservative side, although I used to joke that as a Californian, I was sitting on the wall in between and fell over to the right. I used to think a lot of liberal policies sounded good on paper, but that in reality they did not work very well. That has been proven to be true in my estimation. But let me be clear. I do not think the Republican view as it stands today is working out either in a bulk of cases, especially in Washington D.C. Our government is seriously compromised within both parties, and I am also speaking of all branches. Neither party is what it once was, and if you are not aware of what the Global agenda is for the common person I cannot help you. And it is not my place in life to even attempt it. We all journey as we do.

I then found my feet here. My goals were to talk of things I am interested in, loved all my life, and to find some fun in my days. When I stick to that... I thrive. But I am finding that as many more are awakening to the fact that our world is slipping away... we are all talking more. And the planned divisiveness is impacting all of us.

It is going to get worse. No matter what your stand is. And I completely believe this summer is going to get rough in the US. Very rough.

So what did I decide? Well... I want to be here. If I drift off, which was surprisingly easy this week, I do not get to enjoy dishing on all things royal, art, history, travel, spiritual life, pets, and the love I have for friends I have made here.

I may veer off to world events. I am no longer affiliated with any political party. I do not believe there are many in places of power who have our best interests at heart. When the WEF says that population control is a main agenda, I believe them. I have done my studying and digging... and I understand. History is repeating itself, but there is no one who will be landing on a shore in Normandy to save our world any longer.

I am not going to try to influence a single soul here. Nope. I just want to vent a bit on how dumb and ridiculous Harry is, how narcissistic I find Meghan, how much I admire Anne, and my hopes for Catherine's full recovery. I also want to read your posts on cute furry creatures, other lands and travels, inward journeys, art, and whatever else it is in life the day brings. But I admit that I may slip, and I go off on a world event. I apologize for it now. Just scroll on by if you would.

I had a tough time since last summer. I did. But that is what life can bring. And hopefully we grow. And in the end it will be what we take with us. Many changes do come on life's paths.

Love to friends. Thanks for listening. Going to just post this mess, warts and all.