#but there's way less pain this time too !!! i can already almost even sleep on the pierced side fully

[theloveinc]

sorry i been so chatty lately i just love and miss u all. anyway got two helix piercings and a conch when i was in the netherlands and BRO they are healing so good so far !!

[foxy-eva]

Damaged Goods

Summary: The belief that they were both undeserving of love led Spencer and Reader into each other's arms. If they can’t find love, they can at least soothe their need for physical affection, right?

“You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.” - Anita Ofokansi

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut, Angst with a hopeful ending

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) negative self-talk and self-deprecation (both Reader and Spencer, also in the context of sex!), implied past trauma (nothing explicit), some dark/cynical humor, loneliness, crying (also during sex), showering together, oral (fem receiving), unprotected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: I hope you guys are ready for some smangst! This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Friends with Benefits challenge! 

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

It was as if Spencer had expected you when he opened his door, a sympathetic smile spread over his face and the first buttons of his shirt already undone. As if he had known that you weren’t planning on wasting any time to get him undressed once you stepped inside his apartment. 

“He stood you up, huh?” Spencer concluded after reading your expression. 

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. “I don't even know why I still try with those stupid dating apps.”

“Probably because you don't want to end up old and alone like me,” he chuckled, his tone laced with cynicism. 

“You're not old,” you countered as you stepped closer to him. “And right now you’re not alone either.”

“Technically correct.”

You came to a halt not even an arm’s length away from him. His sight wandered over your face, obviously trying to interpret your current state of mind. It was rare that Spencer made the first step in your encounters. It was important to him to make sure you were the one in control. 

“I need you, Spencer,” you finally confessed. 

There was a certain desperation audible in your voice but it was nothing Spencer hadn’t heard before. He stepped towards you to close the distance between your bodies. 

“Come here,” he whispered as he placed his hands on your waist. 

What Spencer had to offer was the next best thing to love you could get. So you didn’t hesitate to give into the temptation of feeling his body pressed against yours for the umpteenth time in those past few weeks. 

Unlike the men before him, Spencer was not scared to get close to you even after telling him the secrets from your past. He didn't budge when you tried to push him away, well aware of the darkness he’d face once he stepped closer. He wasn’t afraid that you could suck him into the void that captured the place in your chest where your heart once was. 

What he saw when he looked into the abyss that was your soul felt familiar, almost comforting. It reminded him of the demons that possessed his own soul. It broke his heart to see you hurting. However, as morbid as it was, it also made him feel less lonely in his own suffering. 

One particularly lonely night a few weeks ago led you into his arms for the first time – and subsequently into his bed – to at least soothe the yearning for physical affection.

There was no romantic attraction to be found between the two of you. You came to an agreement that you were both too marred to even speak of romance hypothetically. Too large was the risk of  potential self-destruction that could follow a union of two such damaged hearts. 

This was a purely physical thing – a way to pretend that your love lives weren’t completely doomed. Sleeping with Spencer was like committing to a symbiosis, a mutual agreement to use the other’s body to appease this pain that wouldn’t go away. 

You reminded yourself of that when his lips made contact with yours that night. He kissed you like a starving man, never quite able to satiate the burning hunger of his soul. What you had to offer was good enough for now, though. 

As he walked you into his bedroom, it almost felt like following a routine the two of you had adopted. Just a few skilled movements were enough to stand completely bare in front of each other, greedy hands groping whatever flesh was in reach. 

When you finally lay down on the mattress, Spencer’s lips chased every curve and dip of your body, almost as if he was determined to find the secret remedy to finally end your suffering. 

Only there was none. 

The inner turmoil never went away but during those hours you were able to tune it out. It was nothing but a distant memory once Spencer laid down between your legs. He collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue until you were squirming underneath him, desperate to find relief. 

“Not yet,” he breathed as he sat up between your legs. 

He leaned over you, sharing your own taste with you as he kissed you again. At the same moment his tongue entered your mouth, you could feel his hardness pressing into your entrance. There was no need to be reluctant, no moment of questioning if what you were doing would taint the other one. His mouth left your lips to bite into your neck instead, unafraid that his venom could ever hurt you. 

Everything I touch starts rotting, Spencer once chuckled when you tried to save one of his house plants. Cynical as ever, he had said it with a grin on his face but you knew that there was more meaning behind his words than he would ever admit.

It was different with you, though. The damage had already been done by the hands of other people. There was no innocence that could have been defiled. There was nothing Spencer could do to wound you worse than them, no matter how little he thought of himself. 

Maybe that was the real reason it was so easy for him to lose himself inside your embrace. You could see it in his eyes as he entered you. He was allowed to be himself with you, to feel lust and affection despite his hardship, despite the lack of true love. 

Those sensations were a mutual experience, too. With Spencer you were never worried about being rejected. Together you had created your own safe space, a bright pink bubble within the darkness where you could truly be yourselves with one another. 

In perfect unity you began moving with each other, each thrust of hips answered by your body grinding against him. Together you chased the feeling of sweet release, the moment of pure bliss. 

“Fuck,” Spencer muttered against your lips, announcing that it wouldn’t be much longer now. 

You slowed down your movements, desperately trying to prolong this moment, to indulge some more in this short reprieve of the mess that was your life. 

“Please, hold on,” you begged him as you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. 

Suddenly and without a warning Spencer stopped moving to kiss away the tears from your cheeks instead. He tasted the saline on your skin and imagined that it had been kissed by the ocean instead of the cruel reality.

“Are you okay?” He cooed when he found your eyes.

“No,” you breathed. “But when am I ever?” 

“Do you want to stop?” He offered, obviously concerned with you. 

You shook your head as you pushed against his shoulders to urge him to lie down beside you. Climbing into his lap, you found your place on top of him while Spencer’s hands grabbed your hips. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure before continuing. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “You know very well that I need this just as much as you do.” 

With your hand wrapped around his length you guided him into your body once more. Spencer threw his head back into the pillow as you started moving at a slow, almost torturous pace. Not much time passed until the both of you danced along the edge of euphoria again. 

It only took a few skilled motions until you finally fell over the edge, taking Spencer right with you. The high subsided a lot quicker than you would have liked and with that the bright pink bubble you had created burst again.

Spencer held you for the rest of the night, even after the both of you had long fallen asleep. Only when morning came did he dare to let go of your body as he got out of bed. When you heard him turn on the shower, your entire body began tingling as the longing to bask in the warmth his skin radiated became overwhelming. 

With quiet steps you approached the bathroom and opened the door. 

“Do you need something?” You heard Spencer’s voice from behind the shower curtain. 

You stepped closer to the shower before asking, “Can I join you?” 

“Of course.” He pulled back the curtain to let you step in, offering a hand so you wouldn’t slip. 

It was only a little awkward to stand in front of Spencer completely naked in bright daylight. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, sharing both the warm water and the heat his body provided with you. You weren’t sure what it was exactly that you were looking for when you joined him in his morning shower, but it was nice to just be close to him. 

You stepped back to find his eyes and he noticed your ambivalence. Before he had a chance to ask, you giggled, “I’m trying to decide whether I want to get clean or dirty.”

Spencer joined you with his own laughter. “Well,” he chuckled as he grabbed the shampoo bottle, “let’s start by getting you clean.” 

He began shampooing your hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. This act of innocent affection shocked your entire system. Suddenly you were unable to form a coherent sentence, the only thing that mattered in that moment was the sensation of Spencer running his fingertips over your scalp. A part of you wanted to fight this experience of being taken care of but a much bigger, much more desperate part simply indulged in the sensation. 

When you couldn’t get much cleaner, you reciprocated this pure act. Spencer didn’t resist, instead his body became pliable under your touch as you helped him wash his hair and skin. It almost felt like a sacred act to rid him of the remaining soap. Your sight followed the bubbles as they ran down his legs and disappeared in the drain. 

You couldn’t quite explain it but somehow this shower felt more intimate than any sexual act you had shared in the past. It wasn’t your intention but it felt like something between the two of you had shifted as you stepped out of the bathroom and got dressed. 

It felt like the safest option to lighten the mood with your usual playful banter. 

“My therapist said something stupid the other day,” you finally broke the silence. 

“Did she say that you should stop sleeping with me? Because then I might need to have a serious conversation with her,” Spencer joked. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Dr. Reid. I never mention you in therapy,” you lied. 

He saw right through you but let it go anyway. “Right,” he said instead. 

Spencer walked right behind you as you made your way over to his kitchen to make some coffee. 

“She said that I need to start learning to love myself before someone else can fall in love with me.” The coffee maker made a hissing noise right as the last word left your lips. 

“Yikes,” Spencer deadpanned. “Good luck with that.”

“I know, right? I’ll probably end up old and alone like you,” you snickered.  

Spencer laughed at your words. “I was talking about the coffee maker but I deserved that.” 

The ringing of your phone distracted you from your mission to make coffee. When you got it out of your purse, you saw a message from the guy who stood you up last night. 

“The guy from last night is asking for another date. Apparently he didn’t show up because of some work emergency,” you explained with your eyes still glued to the screen. 

Spencer huffed in response. “You're not seriously considering it?” 

“What choice do I have? It’s not like people are lining up to finally date me.”

He rolled his eyes as he poured some coffee in a mug. “He’s not the right person for you. You should say no,” was his final advice. 

“That's the thing with damaged goods though, isn’t it? People can sense that we are not worthy of their time, that they can do better. So we have no choice than to settle for something, or rather someone not quite perfect.”

Months ago you had come to an agreement to stop cheering each other up when it came to your love lives. There was a mutual understanding that telling the other one they would for sure get their happily-ever-after soon didn't help at all. It was sort of comforting to be able to talk about the unadorned truth with one another. 

“There's a difference between not quite perfect and absolute dipshit though,” Spencer retorted.

His choice of words made you laugh. It was rare that Spencer used crude language but he never minced matters when talking about your Tinder chronicles.  

He found your eyes and added, “You deserve better than that.”

Half jokingly, half seriously you asked, “Do I really?” 

A smirk formed on his face when he teased, “Well…” 

You playfully punched his arm and laughed, “Don't be a dick, Spencer! Now I’m going to go on this date out of spite!”

Spencer had seen the worst of you and he was aware that you’d probably fall back into old habits quickly, even if that guy was decent. That poor man didn't stand a chance to fight through all those walls you had so carefully built to protect your heart.

There was another, unspoken reason why the two of you had stopped cheering each other up so long ago. In the unlikely case that you would actually finally find your soulmate, what would that mean for Spencer? That he had been more broken than you all along?

It’s not that he didn't want you to find happiness. But the thought that he might be left behind was devastating. Ending up old and alone was only a tolerable thought if he could have you by his side. 

So Spencer did what he knew best and started pushing you away.

Several days passed without hearing a word from him. It wasn’t the first time this had happened and it was nothing you could hold against him – you had done the same thing before. It couldn't have been a coincidence that right when you were supposed to leave for your date, you found yourself standing in front of Spencer’s apartment door instead. 

Three firm knocks announced your presence. You heard some shuffling on the other side of the door but he didn't open. It was to be expected. You got his spare key out from your purse to enter his place uninvited. 

It was the couch where you found him, his arms wrapped around his knees, making him appear so much smaller than he really was. He was wearing an old Caltech shirt and sweatpants and his hair looked even more unruly than usual. The redness around his eyes revealed that he had been crying.

Instead of greeting you, he groaned, “I shouldn't have given you my key.”

“Well,” you shrugged as you sat down beside him. “Too late.”

“I mean it, you shouldn't be here.”

“Nice try,” you quipped. “You should know by now that you can't scare me off that easily.” 

The truth was that he didn't want you to leave, even when the words that left his mouth claimed the opposite. You had proven to him over and over again that no matter how many of his scars he let you see, you stayed.

Old habits die hard, though. So he still tried walking away, even if he wouldn't get far. You watched as he disappeared in the bedroom and threw the door shut behind him. The sound didn't even make you flinch. 

Slowly you counted to ten before you got up to follow him. He knew you better than that but he still had a surprised expression on his face when he saw you walking through his bedroom door. A part of him still believed that there would come a point where all this darkness became too overwhelming even for you. 

“I won’t leave,” you reminded him, a loving softness laced over your voice. 

You sat down beside him on the bed when he started crying again. To your surprise he didn’t wince when you reached for his hand. 

“Talk to me,” you finally offered.

“You don't understand,” Spencer whimpered. “I feel so alone.”

Right as the words left his lips, he looked up at you, tears still running down his cheeks. He looked at you and remembered that what he said was wrong. 

Because you did understand. 

And he knew that very well. 

That was when he remembered that it wasn’t his apartment you should be at right now. He took a deep breath before wiping away his tears. 

“You're gonna be late for your date,” he stated, his eyes glued to the floor. 

Your words were genuine when you countered, “You're so much more important than a stupid date, Spencer.”

After hearing those words, he leaned over to catch your lips with his without a warning. The fervor he displayed knocked the air out of your lungs. He kissed you greedily, his hands grabbing your waist to push you against his body. 

His tongue begged for entrance and you granted it, melting into him with this kiss that tasted more salty than you would have liked. How easy it would have been to fall back into your old routine, to lose yourself inside his arms as you both chased a quick solution to a problem that couldn't be fixed. 

His hands started searching for the softness your body had to offer, calloused fingertips brushing over the velvet of the skin he found underneath your shirt. It was not like you didn't yearn for it too, for this make-believe game you liked to play. More than anything did you crave the sensation of his touch, this moment that briefly let you forget all the marks past lovers had left on your body. 

It didn't feel right, though. Not anymore. 

Spencer instantly sensed your hesitance and pulled back to find your eyes. Never before had he looked more vulnerable than in that moment. 

“I don't think it’s a good idea,” you breathed as your hands found his face to wipe his tears away. 

Spencer pulled away from you, denying you the access to his skin. 

“So it's okay if you cry during sex, but when I do it, that's where you draw the line?” He huffed. 

The harshness of his words shocked you but you could see the regret in his eyes instantly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

You reached for his hand as you softly spoke, “It’s okay. You're upset, I get it.” 

Several moments of silence passed. Seconds of contemplating how to proceed until you decided to offer him the comfort he craved anyway. 

You leaned in for another kiss. It was a lot softer and slower than before but Spencer took what he could get. When you got ahold of the hem of his shirt to take it off, he pulled back. 

“Wait, I’m not sure about this,” he stuttered. “I don't want you to feel like–”

“Spencer,” you interrupted him. “Do you trust me?”

A quiet breath fell from his lips before he nodded. “More than I ever thought possible.”

With that there was no more resistance to be found when you continued undressing him. He moved with you until only underwear was covering your bodies. 

“Lie down,” you cooed and he did as you said. 

Unlike your previous encounters, it was apparent that what the both of you craved was not sex this time. You laid down beside him to pull him into your arms, no distance allowed between the two of you. His skin was pressed against yours, so much so that it became impossible to tell where your body ended and his began. 

He left featherlight kisses on your neck before resting his head against your shoulder. You held him as close as you could, not daring to loosen the grip you had around his body. 

With his arms and legs all bent and folded to fit inside your embrace, there was no more trace of the tall man he usually was. He seemed small, almost fragile. Even more so when another fit of sobs shot through his body. 

Spencer trembled inside your arms and you held him. You held him until he had successfully cried himself to sleep.

At least that was what you thought. The harbingers of your own slumber had already begun numbing your senses when you suddenly felt his lips brushing over your cheek. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered almost inaudibly. 

I know, you thought but were already too far gone to answer him. 

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you found Spencer already awake, looking at you. His eyes were still a bit swollen but his facial features looked soft, almost content. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Like what?” He mumbled. 

“Like a lovesick fool!” 

Spencer didn't seem surprised at your words. It seemed like he was aware that you had heard what he said to you last night. 

“What if I am?” He asked, a smirk spread over his face. 

Now was not the time for your usual sarcastic banter. Not when everything you had with him was about to implode. 

You sat up in the bed and warned him, “Stop it, Spencer.”

He shook his head, “I can’t keep pretending. It’s the truth.”

You got up to get dressed while you huffed, “How can it be true after you have seen the worst of me.”

“I have seen the worst of you and I still love you.”

You started pacing up and down his bedroom, trying to come up with something to say to that. Spencer got up too and put his clothes on. You came to a halt about an arm’s length away from him before you said, “This is not what love should feel like.”

“How would you know?” He countered. 

His words seemed cruel but they were true. You didn't know what love actually felt like. There was this image you had in your head of an innocent, saccharine kind of love that probably only existed in fiction.  

Spencer didn't let it go just yet. There was a certain insecurity audible in his voice when he practically begged you, “Look at me and tell me that you don’t feel the same way ” 

Instead of looking at him, your sight fell to the floor. “What I feel is the urge to leave.”

It was to be expected that this would be your reaction. Spencer knew you well enough to be aware of the risk he took by confessing his feelings. He suspected that you reciprocated them but were still too afraid to admit it. 

He stepped out of your way and gestured towards the door. “I’m not gonna stop you.”

To your own surprise, you hesitated.  

“What are we doing, Spencer?”

A very timid smile appeared on his face when he realized that you didn't follow your instincts to leave. Maybe there was hope after all. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer answered. “…but I’m willing to find out.”

It wasn’t like this thought had never crossed your mind. In fact, there was a part of your brain that sometimes overpowered anything else and let you fantasize about a potential future with him. 

However, you were very familiar with the demons Spencer had to fight every day. And you were even more aware of your own darkness. You were afraid that the combination of those things might become a poisonous mixture that had the potential to destroy the both of you. 

So it was only logical to voice your concerns. “I don’t think I can make you happy.” 

“It’s not your job to make me happy,” he sighed. “But maybe there is a chance that we could find happiness together. In little those moments, just like before, when we woke up together. Or when we took a shower the other day. Maybe those little things add up one day to something bigger. To something better. Something worth taking the risk.” 

You looked at the door once more but decided to sit down at his bedside instead of leaving. 

You found his eyes and breathed, “Okay.” 

Spencer sat down beside you. “Okay?”

What you had with him was imperfect and not at all what you had imagined. Some might think what you were about to do was stupid, maybe even reckless. It was only a matter of time until one of you got hurt, got caught in the crossfire of the intensity of your emotions. But maybe it was worth giving it a chance. 

Yes, some might call it reckless. But in that moment you thought of it as bravery. 

“Yes.” You confirmed. “Let’s give it a try.” 

A split second after you said those words, you felt Spencer’s lips on yours. The kiss felt different than the ones before. There was no desperation or insatiable hunger noticeable in his actions. This kiss was sweet, almost innocent. It was a way to melt into one another with no hurry, no need to compensate for something you’d never truly experience. 

Soon you were both shedding each layer of clothing before lying down on the bed to continue the kiss without any barrier between you. His chest was firmly pressed against yours and you could feel his heart thumping against your skin, almost as if it was looking for its counterpart inside your ribcage. 

You could feel your heart calling out to him. For the first time you didn't want to be with him to shield your heart from the rest of the world, no. This time you wanted to open up, to give Spencer a chance to feel your affection.

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses. 

He leaned back to smile at you and you could feel how his love entered your body, how it was on a mission to bring light to even the darkest corners of your soul.

“I love you, too.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads @luvdella @bunnylovesani @spenciesslut @billie-lover8 @indyvelazquez @evrmorets

[literaila]

are you stupid?

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you come home injured and satoru isn't cool with it

warnings: literal hurt/comfort, descriptions of a wound bad enough to warrant stitches, little angst, fluff, slightly ooc satoru

last part | next part

*

year six.

“are you stupid?” 

your hands are frozen to the touch, barely able to grasp the doorknob when his voice comes from nowhere at all. 

you almost don't notice it when satoru opens the door. you have to blink to focus on him, but by the time you do, you're already falling against the empty space in front of you. 

satoru is quick to catch your arm, righting you before you break your nose on the hardwood.

“that’s my line,” you tell him, slightly coughing--it sends shocks down your spine and you shiver. you shake his hand off of you, trying to walk forward, but there's a wall of a man standing there. you blink at him. "hey, satoru. would you mind moving?” 

“i could smell the blood from down the block,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, completely still. “what did you do?” 

you roll your eyes, waving a hand (even though it makes you a bit woozy). “there’s no way you could smell that. it’s not even that bad.” 

“it’s dripping down your shirt.” 

you pout, looking down. "i just washed this, too.” 

it is a lot of blood, you realize suddenly. you would definitely get some looks if you were walking down the street in public. 

still, you don't feel all that banged up. it's not really your fault that you were slightly distracted when that curse snuck up on you... or at least, you're pretty sure it's not. 

satoru, shaking his head--maybe finally realizing that you're fine--moves out of the way, holding the door open for you. "what did you do?"

you step through, using the wall to keep you steady. “how do you know i did anything?” 

you finally look at satoru, even though he's fading from your eyeline, in and out of focus. he's not wearing his blindfold or his glasses, and he's got a frown that rivals one of megumi's at the moment. 

it makes you laugh, just a little, as you try to shake the shoes from your feet. 

he was probably sleeping, you think. usually, you'd probably feel... at least slightly bad. but right now? you don't even care. 

you're just happy to see him, right in front of you like your own personal greeting card. you've only been gone a day, but satoru feels much further away than that. 

especially with his frown and his furrowed eyebrows. he's in a mood, you remember, frowning. 

“why are you bleeding, y/n?” 

you cough again, tapping his chest as you move past him. “jeez, lighten up, satoru. i’m good,” you say this as you limp down the hallway, wincing with every step. 

you don't get to watch satoru's eye roll, but it takes less than a second for an arm to wrap under your shoulders, satoru forcing your weight onto him, and he practically carries you through the house until you reach the kitchen, where he sets you on the countertop. 

he's looking at you like you're a fragile baby bird. 

and he doesn't bother to ask--of course he doesn't--before he lifts your shirt from your abdomen, it slightly sticking (due to the blood) before it rolls up. 

satoru's eyes widen as he inspects you. "woah," he whispers, paling just a little bit. 

you don't look down with him--because that's a terrible idea--but you watch satoru. 

you can barely feel it, actually. it's basically just a minor cut, nothing too--

you try not to gasp when satoru presses a finger near your ribs, not directly touching the wound, but far too close to it. it would be embarrassing to double over in pain, wouldn't it?

“is it bad?” you wonder, breathlessly, feeling a bit light-headed. 

satoru’s head snaps up, “you didn’t look?” 

“i was a bit distracted. the curse wasn't gracious enough to give me the chance to grab a couple of bandaids, the bastard."

“how did you even manage to do this?” 

your eyes trail down unconsciously, but all you can see is your bunched-up shirt--drenched in blood. yeah, you'll probably have to burn it. 

satoru is looking up and down, his face entirely disgusted, nose scrunched up and eyes avoiding your own. 

it makes you laugh a little--because you're very familiar with satoru and his opposition to anything humanly--which then makes you wince with him. 

it doesn't hurt that bad, really. 

“can you get the first aid kit?” you ask him, pushing his hands away from you and your cut. but as soon as satoru isn't right there to lean on, you begin to tilt forward. 

satoru immediately resumes his position as your pillar. “are you kidding? i’m calling shoko.” 

“i know how to do stitches, satoru. it’s late.” 

“you need, like, a stomach replacement for that.” 

you roll your eyes, leaning even further into him. at least when you're pressed up against his chest, you don't have to breathe. “you’re so dramatic.” 

satoru is still frowning. “doesn’t that hurt?” 

“nope,” you lie, sitting up and pushing his hands away again. “i’m running on adrenaline. it’s not that deep, anyway.” 

he gives you a hard look. 

you sigh. “what’s wrong with you? you can drop the act.” 

“what act?” 

“the ‘i’m the caretaker’ act.” 

“what if i came home with a hole in my stomach?" satoru's jaw is clenched. "what would you do?” 

“i can't think about hypotheticals right now, satoru,” you whine. “please get the first aid kit?” 

“should i get megumi too? might as well teach him how to stitch you up, he's getting to that age, you know.” 

“funny,” you say, dryly. “do you want me to bleed out on our counter, or…?” 

satoru sighs, but he walks out of the kitchen a moment later. hopefully to save you from dying. 

you exhale, feeling your chest tighten. you can't feel much, for the most part. but then there's that feeling every couple of seconds, a memory of the whole thing playing out-- except your head is fuzzy, and everything looks sort of… colorful right now. 

you can’t even remember how you got here. or the last time a curse managed to actually injure you. 

it feels a bit juvenile, really. 

especially because you’re in no position to be taking care of yourself—but in no world would you wake up shoko in the middle of the night for this. in no world would you wake up anyone, except for satoru, to deal with you, with your blood and your stubbornness. 

god, you hate pain. you hate having to wash blood out of your clothes, and you hate sitting here by yourself. 

you slump down. only seconds have gone by, but it feels like so much more than that. the wound burns, you think, in an unnatural way. 

you probably got poisoned and you're probably going to die and satoru is going to stomp on your grave, and--

“do we even have enough gauze to cover that up?” satoru is asking you when he walks back in. he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, you realize, watching him. 

his eyes are stern, focused, and the rest of him is morose. you should be able to gaze at him, to stare--but you can't because your vision has spots in it, and everything about satoru is too hard right now. 

he’s been like this for days. casual but stuck—like he can’t find it in him to laugh about anything. his face has been a field of lines, with no breaks in between, and his eyes have been greyer than they should be, a sort of dim color that you hate. 

satoru's eyes are wild, usually. they are blue fires and the vast expanse of the universe. 

but not right now, when he's looking at you like this. and not this week--because he's barely been looking at you at all. 

and it's unfortunate not just because you miss him, but because you're not as good at casting it all away as he is. you can't shove things aside and make light out of the darkest situations. 

you can't fill his role, and yet you keep trying to. 

it's an inevitable cycle of failing and never being enough. 

“i’ll just cut up your shirt if there’s not enough,” you tell him, putting on a smile so he can’t tell how badly you want to start crying.

is this real pain, you wonder, or a dream? 

“use your own shirts.”

you pout. “but yours are the best quality.” 

satoru rolls his eyes, again, and begins to wipe off all of the well-used tools you have. a needle you've had for years, stolen from jujutsu high, and thread you can't remember taking. 

“what are you doing?” you try to grab the instruments from his hands, clumsily, almost cutting yourself again in the process. 

satoru is quick to hold them away, keeping them up and out of your reach. not that you were going to try very hard anyway. 

“i’m going to stitch you up," he says, like he's scolding you. 

“you don’t know how.” 

“please,” satoru scoffs, shaking his head. he gets a cloth wet under the facet, and then holds it towards you. “i probably learned how to do this before you were even born."

“when you were nine months old?” 

“clean it.” 

you listen, holding the cloth to your wound and still not looking down. it feels sort of ticklish, and also like you're being tortured. 

“you don’t have to,” you tell satoru after a moment, breathing through the nausea that comes with the pain. “i know you’re squeamish around blood.” 

“i am not squeamish.” 

you grin at him. “sure.” 

satoru looks up, and finally, his face relaxes, just a little bit. you can even see the workings of a smile on his mouth—the first you’ve gotten in days. 

he shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. sit up.” 

“seriously,” you say, again, catching his hand just as he’s about to touch you. “i can do it.” 

“seriously, i’m not letting you. your hands are shaking.” 

you look down, releasing his wrist. “oh.” 

“yeah, oh.” 

satoru kneels so he can see your cut properly, his face narrowed in concentration. you focus on him as he touches the tender skin by the wound, featherlight fingertips trailing across your skin.

you shiver and apologize under your breath. 

he hasn't been this close in days. 

“does it hurt now?” he asks you, voice so quiet that it almost echoes through the house. 

“not really,” but you look up towards the ceiling. somehow you know it’s going to be worse if you watch. 

“i can call—“ 

“no, satoru. i already told you, if you don’t want to do it then i—“ 

“okay, i’m doing it. i’m doing it.” 

you close your eyes when he punctures your skin, waiting for the feeling to subside. it's just a prick, but you still have to think about getting the mail, going to the store, taking a shower after this, or maybe just crawling out from your own skin and becoming a spirit.

but satoru seems to recognize this, maybe from your face, and he asks, “what kind of curse was it?” 

“dunno?” you breathe out, mapping a picture on the ceiling in your mind. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i can't remember.” 

satoru looks up. “what?”

“it’s all a blur,” you say, wanting to shove his hands off of you. you've been trained to kick people away, so it's really not your fault. “i think i won though.” 

“i don’t think this is winning.” 

“keep going,” you tell him, instead of arguing. “i’m fine.” 

satoru tsks but does as you say, resuming the smooth movements of suturing. any normal day, you'd probably want to watch his hands work, want to inspect his job and make fun of him for the way he holds his breath while looking at an open wound.

“how were the kids?” you ask him, after a moment. 

satoru breathes out, nodding. his hair is messy, his face slightly wrinkled from sleeping still. “they missed you.” 

“it was only a day. did megumi get that book report back yet? he was worried about it before i left, but i told him—“ 

“i missed you.” 

you look down, forgetting about pain or blood. “what?” 

“i miss you,” he says, this time, like it’s any different. satoru keeps his eyes down, his hands moving. but there's a guilty look on his face--something that tells you he didn't mean to say anything. 

“satoru…” 

“are you still mad at me?” 

you tilt your head. “mad? why would i be mad at you?” 

“you haven’t been coming to bed,” satoru answers, obviously.

your eyes widen. “satoru—“ and there’s a sharp pain in your side. 

“sorry,” he murmurs, softly, at your flinch. 

“i’m not mad at you,” you tell him, trying not to double over. your voice is high-pitched and breathy. you feel like a child—ridiculous and foolish—but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “i was never mad at you.” 

“you weren't?” 

“you asked me for space. i was just giving it to you.” 

satoru pauses, looking up at you. 

“i… i didn’t want to push you into talking to me. i thought—i don’t know, that maybe things had changed. i mean, we don’t have to…” you wince, and it’s not because of the pain this time. “to sleep together. or in the same room. if you don’t want that anymore—“ 

“no." 

"no what?" 

he shakes his head. "i want that."

“satoru, you’re not going to hurt my feelings—“ 

“i was wrong," he cuts in, voice rough. you don't think you've ever heard him say those words before. "i don’t want space, i never did.” 

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “then why did you…” 

“i—“ he stops. looks around. “does it hurt?” 

and you know, just as you know most things about satoru, that he can't continue. that the truth is going to cut just a little bit too deep--deeper than your injury--and he can't bring himself to say it. 

so you only take another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of your skin being patched back together, and nod. 

“a little,” you say softly. 

an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you, and breathing gets a little bit easier all of a sudden. 

maybe it wasn't the pain. maybe it was just the tension, the build-up of days apart. 

it makes sense, even to your slightly fogged-over mind. 

and then the two of you sit there while satoru patches you up, sharing a glance every couple of seconds—a glance with so many words, so tender and feeling that it succeeds in making you even dizzier. blood loss has nothing on the way satoru makes you feel. 

you can't see his hands--don't dare to--but you can feel the softness of them, the care he's taking in stitching you up. 

if it were any day, you would laugh at him for it. but right now, you just accept it. bask in it. 

“how’s that feel?” satoru whispers to you, after he’s tied it off and wiped the blood from your skin. 

you don't bother to look down. really, you don't want to see the freshly sutured line on your abdomen, but also, you just want to keep looking at him. 

it's much more gratifying, at least.

“good," you say, voice stronger, easier. "is it going to scar?” 

satoru scoffs. “if you wanted untouched skin then we should’ve called shoko—“ 

“shut up,” you interrupt. “i’m not listening to the medical advice of someone who’s never gotten a scratch in his life.” 

“i let you scratch me.” 

“well, obviously, i’m the exception,” you smile at him, exhausted and sweaty and still a little out of it—but home. with him. 

and this time satoru actually smiles back. 

it’s a bizarre thing, his smile. the first one you’ve gotten in days and it wakes you up immediately. almost like realizing you’ve been in the dark for weeks, just getting a glimpse of the light. 

he's a peek into something more--unearthly. if the closest thing you get to divinity is satoru, then you won't complain.

“you okay?” you ask him, but you’re only teasing. 

“that’s my line,” he says. 

“you sure?” 

satoru leans towards you, forehead against yours. “i’m sure.” 

you sit there for a moment. satoru is usually the one clinging to you, but tonight you feel like if he moves away you might never get him back. 

so you sit there, make sure to hold him to you, secure with your hands wrapped around his biceps, his arms grazing against yours as he leans against the counter. 

you're probably a mess right now--your skin stained with blood that shouldn't be outside your body, your face covered in dirt, your hair and clothes drenched in sweat and rain. but satoru doesn't seem to mind, so you don't think about it too hard. 

he deserves it, at least, for making ridiculous assumptions. you have to get him back somehow, after all. 

after a minute, or two, or maybe even three, you clear your throat. “great. i’m alive, you’re… less annoying than usual. let’s go to bed.” 

“‘less?’” satoru gapes at you, but his laughter is unmistakable. 

“yeah, i know," you say, feigning shock, "i was surprised too.” 

he flicks your forehead but you’re still smiling at him. 

“okay,” satoru whispers, leaning back. “bedtime.” 

you rub at the spot around your wound one more time, already feeling the days of sore skin and itchy muscles, and then you push satoru so you can hop off of the counter. 

“hey,” he says, suddenly, stopping you. his voice is quick, almost lost. but his hands wrap around your wrists, keeping them between the two of you so you can't escape. and satoru's eyes are on your face, flickering between the different points of your skin, looking like he's just realized that he's lost something.

you raise a brow, but don't push back against his chest or try to pry his hands away. “what?” 

satoru swallows, still watching you. 

his eyelashes are long enough to touch his skin, and his eyes are blue enough to take up the whole world. you want to grin at the saturation of him--so much brighter than you've seen him in days--but you refrain. you don't want to scare him away. 

but you're not so eager to move. it's easy to wait on satoru, really--to wait for his words, to let him collect his thoughts--because you've only spent nine years studying his face. you've only admired the slope of his nose and the tilt of his chin since you were sixteen, and there's much more to be discovered. 

so staring at him is simple. especially when there's so much to look at. 

you have plenty of unmarked territory you need to take over. 

you keep a slight smile on your face while you wait, and eventually, satoru groans, hanging his head back. 

“what?” you repeat, laughing just a little. 

“can you stop looking at me like that?” 

“like what?” you nudge your head against his chin, and satoru glares at you. 

“i’m trying to be serious.” 

“oh, okay,” you try to push away your smile, but you can't. it's glued where it is. “i’m serious.” 

“you’re not.” 

“what is it, satoru? i’m listening.” 

his eyes meet yours, again, and you almost flinch. 

everything about satoru is forceful, except for the way he looks at you. the way his eyes relax, his entire face falling when you're both eye to eye. it's a look you've only observed on one person, in only one particular moment. 

and, you think, all of a sudden, it might be your favorite look. 

but you're still fed up with waiting. you're tired of his consideration, his contemplative eyes. you want satoru back--with his ridiculous laughter and stupid jokes. you want him irritating the sanity out of you and simultaneously bringing you to life. 

you don't tell him that though, because in this moment you'll take what you can get. 

any version of satoru is better than none at all. you’ve learned that the hard way. 

“hey,” he says, one more time. his smile is unusual, a frightened little thing. “i love you.” 

you freeze. 

your face falls flat, thinking of the words in a million different ways. you might've misheard him--but you're so locked in on him that it seems impossible. 

at once, you consider exactly what he means, so many different variations of the same thing. 

does he love you like your parents did, always too much but never enough?

does he love you like you love megumi and tsumiki—like your life depends on it? like you’d be wrecked without them? 

or does satoru love you like you love him? does he love you like it’s breathing? like there’s never been a choice in the matter? 

but, it's simple. a beat passes, three seconds of contemplation--just enough for the words to ring true throughout your body. 

the way he’s looking at you is enough to answer any question you have. 

satoru loves you like a promise, and nothing less. 

“you idiot,” you say, a sudden, day-breaking smile on your face. “don’t you think i know that?"

*

"should we wake them up?" tsumiki asks, walking up behind megumi, staring down at you both. she's rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly messy.

megumi considers it for a moment.

neither of them have woken up like this in a while. you and gojo are getting better at falling asleep in bed instead of on the couch.

but, at this point, megumi thinks that it's probably a habit. or just to annoy him.

gojo's face is shoved into your chest and your hands are tangled in his hair. the both of you have silly smiles on your faces, and seriously. how do you both manage to fall asleep in such uncomfortable positions.

"no," megumi whispers, yawning. "i can make breakfast. mom probably got home pretty late."

"okay," tsumiki says, still staring.

megumi rolls his eyes and walks away. honestly, what did he do to deserve getting two idiots for parents?

*

next part | series masterlist

[gtgbabie0]

A cold heart

{After distancing yourself from Cregan the truth finally comes out}

Hope you enjoy as always lovelies! 💕

CW// reader is pregnant

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Cregan grew up in the North, he became acclimatised to the cold weather as he grew, but yet he’s never felt so cold then he does right now in your shared bedchambers, despite the warmth of the fire. It’s a type of feeling that completely renders him numb. An aching feeling that sits heavy against his chest, it’s almost as if he can’t breathe.

He watches you climb into bed slipping underneath the many furs. His heart freezes as the realisation slowly sets in, he’s in for another night of silence, and like every other night for the past few weeks you’ll sleep as far away as possible, shrugging off his touch.

It's not that you didn't want him to touch you, quite the opposite actually. You just couldn't risk his wandering hands grazing against your tiny bump, you wouldn't let him find out, not that way.

He doesn’t think he can go another night of isolation. So he reaches out to you in hopes you’ll reopen your caged heart to him once again, just as you did all those moons ago when he confessed his feelings to you.

“Love, will you please tell me what’s bothering you? I can’t stand this silence” he says, a gentle hand against your shoulder and he winces when he feels you go rigid under his palm.

He retreats his hand not wanting to be the cause of your discomfort. You don’t look at him, far too afraid of the pain that will stain his face.

It’s not that you don’t want to tell him, in all honesty, you so desperately wanted to share the news, but you’ve heard so my awful stories from other ladies about their husbands seeking pleasure through other means, how they are completely abandoned by them simply because they were ‘undesirable’ it hurt to hear. You couldn’t imagine going through that.

So maybe that’s why you push Cregan away, because if you do it first it’ll hurt less when does inevitably happen.

“Nothing is wrong Cregan, I’m tired,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself in search of comfort.

He likes to think that he is a calm man, never quick to anger but right now in this moment, anger is quick to warm his heart.

“Do not lie to me” he says, tone firm. You have only ever heard that when some lord made the mistake of insulting you in front of him, you remember thinking how you never wanted to be on the receiving end of that, yet here you are.

You sigh, biting back the tears that sting the back of your throat. “I just want to sleep Cregan” you whisper and he doesn’t miss the way your voice quivers.

You hear him let out a deep breath, then the bed shifts and he’s getting ready. The sudden change in the atmosphere makes you sit up, bringing the furs up with you, protecting yourself from the bitter cold.

“Where are you going?” You ask, watching as he laces up his boots, his eyes flicker to yours for a moment but they don’t linger long.

“I have work to do. Don’t wait up for me” he tells you and before you even have time to try and even think of what to say he’s gone.

You don’t bother stopping the tears that fall so effortlessly from your eyes. A regretful sob broke through your lips as you feel yourself engulfed by unwavering guilt, the type that pinches at your heart leaving bruises in its wake.

You can’t find solace in sleep, not without Cregan beside you. So you wait, and wait a book in your lap but you pay it no mind as your eyes stay fixed on the door.

You questioned whether or not he had already found another woman. Filthy thoughts tainting your mind, and you know it’s silly. Cregan would never break your trust or heart like that, never.

The hours seem to drag, and you contemplate if you should go out and find him yourself to say your sorries and give him a well-earned explanation, but the Maesters told you rest is the best thing for the babe.

Then the heavy wooden door opens, and there he is. “I told you not to wait up,” he says, and you watch him intently as he takes off his furs and leather.

You want to speak but you haven’t the slightest idea of where to even begin, there are so many words that rattle around in your brain but none of them seem good enough.

He looks over at you, and if it weren’t for the anger that still tingles his skin he would’ve felt sorry for the way you seemed to go in on yourself.

“Have I done something? Offended you somehow?— hurt you?” He wonders, wincing at the way his voice trembles, and the sound brings tears to your eyes.

You shake your head, trying to string a sentence together but the only thing that comes out is a pitiful sob. Emotions collide in your chest.

“Then what is it y/n? Why are you treating me as if I’m a stranger?” He asks, sitting at the end of the bed.

You study the scars that litter his chest, the one that travels across his ribcage that you love to you trace with gentle fingers, and you yearn to be held by him once again.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, your hand splayed against your collarbones. You can’t stop the cries that escape you. You shuffle down to where he’s sitting, a careful hand against his shoulder. “I’m sorry Cregan- I can explain” you gasp.

His slightly calloused hand soothes the expanse of your back, he hates seeing you so upset. The painful expression that paints your face, how your eyebrows furrow together. He promised himself that he’d do anything in his power to prevent this.

He wants to be mad, but he can't not when your shoulders shake as you try to stifle your cries behind a shaky hand.

“Love, breathe,” he says, taking your hand in his as he guides you through deep breaths. He’s always been so good at that.

He brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently and you sigh at the feeling of his beard against your skin.

“Cregan, I-” you look up at him as he urges you to continue, worry laced through his eyes, “I am with child” you whisper, your eyes flickering down to where your hands lay against his lap entwined with his own.

“The ladies have said- told stories of how their bodies change, how they no longer look the same as before- their husbands, they-” you sob, not being able to finish the sentence, a desperate need to get him to understand. And he does, he knows what you’re trying to say, and it hurts him beyond words that you would ever even consider the possibility.

His hands gently cup your tearful face, and he gives you the most endearing look he could muster. “My precious wife” he starts, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You are the light of my life, my heart is yours entirely,” he tells you, a sense of relief washing over him as you fling yourself into his arms.

It was silly of you to doubt his love, especially for you. “I know- I’m sorry,” you tell him, kissing his shoulder.

“How long have you known?” He asks, his hands grasping at your hips.

“I had a suspicion for a while” you confess, bringing his hands to your belly. You let out a breathy giggle at the way his eyes light up with excitement as his hand soothe the expanse of your stomach.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before wiping away the stray tears that fall from your lashes, “A pup of our own eh?” He says, a teasing look flashing through his eyes as he urges you to lay against the pillows.

His hand dips underneath your nightdress grazing along your thigh travelling to rest at the curve of your stomach, your bump was barely there but yet he knows the difference. He smiles at you softly, enjoying the way your breath hitches at his touch.

“I promise I’ll take such good care of you, and our little one” he says, love bleeding into his tone as he peppers your neck with kisses. Your fingers thread through his hair as you urge him closer to you, you had missed him more than you thought.

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[romaniacs]

▌ㅤNATASHA ROMANOFF — I MISS YOU MORE THAN LIFE

( read more ) synopsis — natasha's harsh words are like a knife twisting inside your already mean brain as she's been dealing with an imminent breakdown due to work-related stress, and so she soothes you from the pain she causes herself. warnings — female reader x natasha romanoff, crying, a little bit of everything; fluff + angst… so hurt-comfort.

"y/n- you're still up?" natasha sounds tired just before her breath catches in her throat as she sees the mess she's caused, your teary eyes lifting to rest on her worried face. "baby, no, why are you crying? are you in pain? having cramps?" and your silence is brief yet loud. "is it something i said? did i… did i make you cry?"

her hands roam over your wet cheeks as she feels a wave of that nurturing energy she usually has taking over her again, as strongly as it could be after a long time of giving you nothing. when she said i don't think i wanna go out in a stressed-out tone, looking over the paperwork she had to finish yesterday, it felt a bit off to you. when she had the last bites of the food you had kept for yourself, you just sulked in a corner. woman had to eat, it was fine. when she stopped kissing you goodbye before leaving, you understood. but when you were on a call and she started cussing out as she dealt with a sudden work issue that popped up and sounded rude to you too, it was a bit too much for you.

i'll hang up, she said not long ago. i'm a bit too mad to talk right now and you're not helping. your headache will pass, just go to bed.

you feel the distance natasha's putting between you two solidifying with time, and things don't seem to be going well with your job either.

it's just been hard. in general.

and now that she finally got home and entered your bedroom, reality hit her like a truck.

"it's nothing" you bring her hands down, off your face, but don't want to be rude. it really is nothing much. you just want to be left alone, as she seems to have been trying to make happen. "it really isn't, don't mind me. just sleep. it's late."

"are you kidding me? you're crying, y/n" her voice is not as soft, strangely. "if i did anything wrong, you can just tell me."

"can't you see it yourself?"

her eyes are suddenly locked onto your face, even though it's dark. she's also finally coming down from the long-lasting stress she's been through. "well, yeah" she sounds weird. calmer. confused. way more aware of herself, and consequently her eyes water up in a second. "yeah. sorry. i think i've been a bit harsh lately. it's just…"

"work, i know" you pat her hand softly as you give her an understanding look. "it's fine. just rest, okay?"

natasha can't bring herself to say much anyway, so she takes the chance to take off her jacket and lay down beside you. after a while, she rests an arm around your waist, pushing some hair off your forehead.

"i'm really sorry, y/n" natasha mumbles on your back. "i don't love you any less. i just haven't been doing so right. it's hard keeping my cool, and i try not to be harsh, but…" her voice trails off. "i've been under a lot of pressure. and not managing it well. but i love you."

"you don't have to explain anything to me, i understand. just don't treat me differently if you can just not treat me in any way and avoid making me second-guess my own actions" you whisper. "i love you a lot, nat. i don't need calmness, i just need to be sure you still love me. so it's okay."

"mhm. just hate myself for making you cry, you don't deserve that" she places a gentle kiss on your skin, her body warmly placed behind yours. and things almost feel normal for a second, just as they used to be before the mission she's been on. "i won't stop loving you even when hell freezes over, detka. trust me."

and you do, you can finally fall asleep. you feel wanted again, even if things still hurt, even if work won't stop on the way of your relationship, but whatever it is that tries to bring you down is fortunately none of your heart's business; even when your heart is heavy, it's still hers.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Soooo, tell me, do you think Astarion would be jealous or possessive at times? Do you think he gets nervous about losing his partner?

Oh, he would definteley be possessive! I think it would come out of fear. Like, what if Tav dumps him for someone better?

Thanks @brabblesblog and @rachelle-on-the-run for beta-reading!

Doubts

Synopsis: Astarion thinks you are going to leave him for someone better and accuses you of infidelity.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, a heated argument

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion can't process what he feels.

Anger? Disgust? Disappointment? Betrayal?

You stand in the sunlight, bathing in the warm rays. You smile, sincere and happy, while he stands in the shadows like the monster he is.

A man, a handsome half-elf, with long and dark hair practically dances around you like a bird during mating season. He openly flirts with you and you giggle at his jokes.

You don't try to shut him down. You smile. You laugh.

Astarion can't hear the conversation, but he is sure you wouldn't talk like that if you knew he was near.

If it was night, he could easily grab your hand and threaten this man with the daggers.

But he can't.

He is useless.

The only thing he can do is to watch. He sees you taking the man's hand and then hugging him. Warm and tight.

It's too much even for him. 

He dissapears into the tunnels below the city. When he returns to the camp, it's already dark and you light a fire.

"Astarion,good news", you tell him. "We - What is wrong?"

He looks up at you. The anger is replaced with poison.

"If you wanted to fuck someone else, you should have just said so," he mutters through the teeth.

"What?" 

You dare to look surprised. Sure, why not. You aren't less manipulative than him. Learned from a professional.

"Oh, stop with this innocent smile! You know what I’m talking about! I've seen you flirting with that man. Tell me - is his body warm? Does his back look new and perfect?"

"You followed me."

"Answer the damn questions, Tav!"

You stand up.

"That was my friend. I knew him ages ago! I just didn't expect to meet him all of a sudden!"

"Come on, any common fool could see you were all over each other. You want to sleep with him? Fine. At least, you could be so kind as to tell me beforehand. I think I deserve it."

"Astarion, stop."

Your soft voice annoys him even more. 

He bursts. It's like a firestorm, unstoppable and cruel. He yells at you, spitting all the most disgusting insults as if it can numb at least some of his pain.

A whore. A slut. A bitch.

He yells at the top of his lungs. And then suddenly…

A slap.

Loud and painful. His cheek burns of how hard you've slapped him. It sobers him up and Astarion stares at you in shock. He wishes he could take all the words away. To go back in time and make himself stop before spitting all this poison.

"Tav..."

"GO AWAY!" 

He has never heard you screaming like that. You hate him. And he deserves it.

"GO FUCKING AWAY! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!"

Tears stream down your face as you sit on the ground. Your body shudders.

And Astarion runs.

He disappears into the woods. In the darkness. In the cold.

The cheek still burns. You've never gotten physical with him - except for that first time when he almost drained you. Astarion sometimes remembers how you kicked him in the ribs.

But, maybe, it's all for the best? You can find a living person to spend your life with. Because what can he even offer? His nightmares? His pain? His tainted touches?

The very thought of you in someone else’s hands makes him sick. But at the same time, what did he expect after calling you all these awful names? 

He needs to disappear, forever.

But the further he goes, the worse he feels. The invisible leash tugs him back and his undead heart bleeds. 

The very idea of not seeing you, being alone, spending this condemned eternity on his own… He would prefer being flayed by a razor rather than living a day without you.

He needs to apologize. He needs to crawl back, begging for forgiveness. The same way he did when he was a slave.

Don't beat me. Don't torture me. I will do anything.

Don't leave me. Don't hurt me. I will do anything. 

As he returns to the camp, he sees you by the fire. You notice him and turn your head away.

"Please... I am sorry... I didn't mean it."

You look at him but instead of the softness he craves there is only cold. 

The only thing he desires is to hug you, to be pressed against your chest. To hear the words of love and comfort.

But there is an invisible wall between you two.

"Please… Don't leave me!" he begs. "I can't… I don't know how to live without you."

You sigh. "Astarion, I am not leaving you. But I am angry. I am angry like all the devils of Avernus."

"Then… I am sorry! I am sorry for calling you all these words, I am sorry for..."

"No, Astarion. It won't work like that. This relationship won’t work. "

Astarion is taken aback. "Then what do you want me to do?"

"I don't want you to do anything. But you need to understand that I have feelings, too."

Silence. Astarion is motionless.

"You are apologizing out of fear." you continue. "Because you’re used to expecting violence. I want you to apologize out of honesty. You hurt me. You accused me of infidelity. You called me all these slurs people used against you, perfectly knowing how much that hurts. You offended my friend, the person I grew up with, someone who I thought was dead. The person who gave me a very good contract just because I asked. For that, I need you to apologize."

You both are silent. Astarion looks somewhere in the distance. 

"Listen, Tav, you know I am like that. I can’t control it."

"You do! That's the thing. You were infantilized for two hundred years. But you are a man. You are not a boy, not a pet, not a slave. You don't need to be trained or taught. You are a man. And you must learn to be responsible for your actions. I understand why you are like that. But it doesn't mean I have to allow you to say anything you want."

The words hurt like daggers when he finally manages to say them out loud.

"I am sorry. I am sorry for thinking you could leave me. I am sorry for hurting you. My emotions took the best of me. I am afraid, I am constantly afraid. I am afraid you will leave me for what I am."

A touch. Soft and delicate. He feels like crying the moment your tender fingers caress his skin.

"And I am sorry for getting physical. I shouldn't have slapped you."

"I deserved it"

"No one deserves beatings. Especially, from their loved ones." 

You press your forehead against his. "You aren't an easy person to deal with, Astarion. But I knew it from the beginning. When you confessed to me, I had a chance to stop it. I didn't do it. Because I love you. But I am a living breathing person and if you hurt me, I bleed. "

He nods. "But if you ever want to end all this - "

"I won't"

He smiles and presses his finger against your lips. "If you ever decide it's too much, tell me. Just be honest. "

You wrap your hands around his neck and tug him close. "You know, when he hugged me, my first thought was "damn, his skin is so uncomfortably hot". And he told me we should stop it because his husband is jealous. I think they are having a very uncomfortable conversation right now."

You sit together in silence looking at the campfire. Soon, Astarion notices a stripe of light in the distance and his vampiric senses send a shiver down his spine.

You yawn.

"Let's get some rest. Astarion, I hate asking for reciprocation, but since you probably want to make amends…"

"What do you want, my sweet?"

"Can you please not leave my side while I sleep? Just be with me till I wake up."

He closes his eyes and lets out a short laugh. And this is your idea of making amends? A few hours ago he would beg you to let him touch you, let alone cuddle with you.

He cocks his head. "Only if you make amends for slapping me."

"And what do you want?"

"I want to be the little spoon."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[luvrxbunny]

gone too long

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader

Prompt: Masturbation

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, some angst (im sorry), masturbation, pillow humping, panty sniffing, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.2k

A/N: probably too long and emotional for kinktober but its my first time so bear with me please

You’ve been away for almost a week now. Steven tried to be good, he tried but it’s been so hard without you. He goes to bed alone, hard, surrounded by your scent and wakes up the same way.

He spends hours in the night writhing around in bed. He can’t sleep anymore, you always used to get him off after he came home from work and again before bed to help him sleep but now he just spends his time missing you, squeezing his throbbing cock, and crying for you as he palms himself to the edge of orgasm, unallowed to get himself over the edge.

He wakes up in more pain than when he went to sleep. His dreams are all about you, some sexual, some domestic, but they all make him hard. He cries for you some more before starting a painfully cold shower and setting off for the day. 

 If you were coming home tomorrow it’d be a different story. Steven would’ve stayed good, he would’ve waited for you, but he’s had a particularly hard day today, and amid all the commotion he forgot that you wouldn’t be there to comfort him. He’s thinking about you the entire bus ride home but it never clicks. He thinks about how he’ll stop you from cooking and order takeout, he’ll ask you to ride him as you guys wait, he’ll make sure you take it slow, savoring the way you guys feel together, how your bodies mold into one another perfectly. 

He fattens up in his pants as he unlocks the front door, he swears he can hear the TV on inside. He thinks about how you’ll tell him all about whatever new show you’ve found while he undresses you. 

He’s met with the most hollow feeling when he opens his door and reality stabs straight into his heart. 

Tears well in his eyes as he takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He keeps breathing slowly as he takes his shoes off, and as he puts his coat up. He starts breathing out through his mouth when the hollow feeling doesn’t leave, he keeps it up as he unpacks his bag, setting everything back in its proper place for the weekend, and he starts up a pot of tea. It’s all futile though, because his tears come pouring out the moment he sits on the bed, your faint scent gets pushed out of the cushioning and the hollow feeling becomes part of his bones. 

He can’t even function for the rest of the night, he turns the stove off through his watery gaze and buries himself in the blankets. Surrounding himself in your scent as he cries himself to sleep. 

He’s soft and sensitive when he wakes up, a state you know how to handle perfectly. But you’re not home. He has his usual morning delirium as he reaches out for you, reality slapping him as he feels your cold side of the bed. 

He rolls over onto his stomach, burying his face in your pillow- the only thing on the bed that still smells like you. 

Three more days. 

His cock is already twitching against the mattress as he huffs your scent, he whines at the stimulation. He wants to be a good boy. You asked him to wait for you, you said he could touch himself but you wanted his balls full for you. But you must not have understood how hard this would be for him. His hips are already grinding into the mattress. 

She won’t find out. Can’t. She’s not here.

He reaches out blindly for your side dresser, knowing you keep spare underwear in there. He feels something a bit hard and his head raises quickly to see what it is. His cock spasms at the sight. 

His mind flashes back to two weeks ago. One night, you and Marc were a little too drunk and way too needy. He pulled your panties to the side, fucked you, and let you soak it in your juices as he came over your stomach. He was too tired to clean you up so Steven took over after Marc fell asleep. You were sleeping so in an attempt to cause less of a commotion he just threw your panties in this drawer. He must’ve forgotten to get rid of it. 

Fuck. 

His hand is shaking as he brings it up to his face. There are dried white streaks of your arousal running all over the crotch, a small circle of it from where your pussy cried for him. He can’t help but moan at the sight and brings the fabric to his nose. It still smells like you, like her. His tongue is darting out to taste it before his brain has even finished processing your smell. His cock spurts out loads of pre-cum into his briefs as he starts to thrust against the bed again. He pushes your pillow down to his crotch with one hand as the other holds your old, dried panties to his face.

He feels so dirty as he does this, almost disgusted with himself but pleasure clouds his mind over as he feels the softness of your pillow on his pulsing dick. It’s comparable to how your pussy feels to him, not as warm and nowhere near as wet but just as soft.

He’s face first on the bed, your panties directly over his face the way your pussy would be, his tongue prodding at where your pretty little hole should be. He’s groaning out your name in half sobs, wishing you were here, wishing you were the one touching him because as good as this all feels… you still feel so much better. 

He feels the molten pleasure work its way up his spine, he feels his balls begin to throb with the load they’ve prepared. He feels it coming, he can feel how much there’ll be and a pang of guilt that he’s not saving it for you. He knows how much you love when he fills you up, how whiny you get when you’re packed full of his load, how you mutter his name on repeat, begging him to fill you up. 

But the thought just works him further to the edge, he can feel his muscles tighten as his dick starts to pulse, he feels relief just out of reach, and a small guilty smile spreads over his face at how good this is going to feel. His mind races through scenes of you, unable to choose one to cum to, your name rests on the tip of his tongue as his hips stutter into the pillow one last time before

nothing happens.

He can feel his orgasm at the tip of his cock, right there and he wants you. He forms scene after scene in his head of how many different ways you’ll touch him when you get back. He thinks about how many times you’ll make him cum, how you’ll coo over his overfilled, swollen balls, how you’ll apologize to him as you fuck him into oblivion but nothing gets close to how he feels when your hands are on him. He needs you.

The realization is accompanied by a teary whimper of your name into the pillow.

The teary whimper is followed by an angelic sound of “Steven?”

His head snaps up and he’s scrambling out of bed before he can rationalize the fact that you’re not supposed to be home for another four days. 

But you’re actually here. 

You’re smiling at him as you place your coat on the rack, your boots already off and eyebrows raised as you wait for him to make his way over to you. He’s standing in the doorway frozen. He thinks he’s lost it, that he was right, all these days without you did drive him insane. 

I told her this would happen. 

His eyes well with tears as he tries to will himself to see the truth. His fists are bunching at his sides, angry at the hope he felt when he thought he heard you calling his name, having already been riled up at his futile attempt at relief. 

You’re growing concerned under his indecipherable stare. “Steven?” He gasps and his eyes widen. You approach him slowly and cautiously, worried at this odd reaction. He takes a hesitant step toward you and gasps at the small amused smile that blooms on your lips. 

“Are you okay, Stevie? I wanted to surprise you but you seem-” You pause to look him up and down, finally taking him all in and noticing the bulge and wet patch in his pants. Your expression changes from shock to sultry disappointment. “You seem like you’ve been bad.”

His eyes are still wide and watery. “Are you really here?”

Your mask drops with a sad smile. “Of course I am, baby. Did you miss me that much?” He envelopes you in a hug, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent with a shaky groan. 

“I m-missed you so much. I’ve been good.” He’s already got that distant, airy, aroused tone as he speaks. “I didn’t cum. I- ” He’s started to grind against you already, his bulge pressing itself into your thigh over and over as he grips your shoulders. He’s moved to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your conditioner. “I wanted to- I tried.” 

His voice breaks at the end and you can’t stand it anymore. You grab the hair on the back of his head and roughly work him to your lips, relishing in the loud moan that breaks from his throat as your lips meet his. He’s trying to lick into your mouth immediately and you let him, you’ve missed the way he tastes. Only, when his tongue presses into yours, he tastes different… something familiar but it’s not him. You pull away confused and Steven’s lips chase yours with a whine. You have to hold his face away from yours to get his attention. 

“Steven, what is that?” He’s too delirious to understand what you’re asking, he just tilts his head like a puppy. You try not to let your endearment show through, attempting to be stern. “What’s that taste?” You can see his recognition flash over his face as he realizes what you’re asking but he starts shaking his head slowly and pulling you back in. “It’s just you, darling.”

You let him kiss you as you process, his words paired with the vaguely familiar taste let it click. You’re moaning into his mouth and pressing your thigh back into his weeping cock, earning a grateful moan from him. 

You walk him back to the bedroom desperately. You’ve been yearning for him as much as he has for you. You spent nights rolling around in bed, clit pulsing for him, unsatisfied with your ministrations. You tried fingering yourself but your fingers were nowhere near as long or as thick as his, you couldn’t hit the same spots he could. You tried. You push him onto the bed with a grunt and notice a pair of undies where your pillow should be. Confusion flies over your face before you look back at Steven, noticing his red face.

‘I tried’ 

The memory of what Steven said earlier finally makes sense to you. It also explained his desperate, disheveled state, why he was leaking and yearning for you. 

Arousal shoots between your legs like a jolt of electricity as you picture the scene; Steven grinding against- your pillow it seems- as he sniffed and licked at your panties. 

That’s why my taste was on his tongue…

Steven’s face is still burning red, looking anywhere but at you, as his hips uncontrollably twitch up for you, it brings a fond smile to your face. You take off your pants, matching him in your bottoms, and place yourself on his clothed bulge with a moan. You meant to tease him but it was already affecting you more than you anticipated. His hips are already thrusting into yours, his hands on your hips to hold you- press you down into him. He’s moaning out for you, whining about how good you feel but still trying to hide his face in his shoulder.

You give in and swivel your hips against him, earning a whole new level of volume from Steven. His hands aren’t just resting on your hips, they’re running all over your body wildly, grabbing and groping anything he comes across. You lean down to his ear and begin your questioning.

“So what are m- shit. What are my panties d-doing over here, S-Steven?” His name accidentally comes out as a moan as he drags your clit right over the tip of his dick. He’s not even looking at you, his eyes are fixed on where he’s rubbing you against himself, the way his tip dips into your soft skin and leaves streaks of his pre all along the fabric. His jaw is dropped open and little pants make their way past his wet lips. 

You can see this feral look in his eyes that you’ve never witnessed. He’s told you drunkenly how badly he craves you but you’ve never actually seen it, you’ve never really believed him. Like this, though? You can see what he was talking about. You can tell that he’s zeroed in on how good you’re making him feel, you don’t think he even heard you, too entranced with how he’s moving you along his cock. 

Your pussy clenches at the thought and he can feel it. He falls back against the bed with a groan before propping himself up on his elbows to pull you both back against the headboard. He whimpers at the momentary loss of friction but smiles once he can collapse onto the board while still staring at you. His hands come back to grip your hips, upset that you’ve stopped moving your hips without his help but you stop him. You lean forward on him, pressing most of your weight on his tip, he gasps and grips your arms with a moan. “Please! Oh Gods-”

You silence him with a short kiss, pulling away before he’s satisfied. He starts to mumble pleas to you again but your finger is pressed into his lips, he licks them, tasting your finger in the process and moaning at the taste of your skin. “Stevie…” You pause and he sighs at the sound of his name on your lips. “Did you use my underwear to get off?”

His eyes widen and dart to where they lay, exposed on the bed. You feel his cock twitch under you and you have to bite your lip to hold in a whine at the way it rubbed over your clit. He’s embarrased but turned on at the fact that he thought you’d never find out but you still did. The way that he could never hide anything from you, the way you don’t seem upset at the fact you caught him.

“I needed you so b- bad an’ you- an’ everything smells like you. I- I’m sorry.” He drops his head onto your shoulder as his hips slowly grind into you. “ ‘M sorry, alrigh’?” His accent gets heavier as he grinds into you more deliberately. “I just- I jus’ -oh I needed you so b-bad.” He whimpers into your neck, trying to muffle himself in there. You’re lost in the feeling, in his words as he humps his cock into you. He’s kissing along your neck, sometimes just licking at your sweat and moaning at the taste. His hips were starting to twitch and stutter into yours, his moans pitched up and his hands began to bruise into your skin. “I’m-”

You lift off of him. “No- Wh-y? P-please.” You ignore his plea and pull your shirt and underwear off as he scrambles to do the same. “Are we gonna-?” You smile at him softly and prepare for your confession. 

“I couldn’t get off without you, Steven.” You shift your weight nervously as he just stares at you. “I- My fingers aren’t enough anymore.” You whine at him and his cock jumps, leaking onto the sheets as he reaches out for you. He pulls you into a kiss and fumbles to take your bra off. He lets you climb over him again and moans into your mouth as you line him up with your soaked hole. “Put it in. Put it in- shit. P- put- ” He’s cut off by both your moans as you sink onto him. 

“Fuck I can t-tell your- fuck.” He whines out as you as you squeeze around him. “Your little fingers aren’t enough t’properly stretch you f’me hm?” His eyes roll back and his eyebrows draw inward as you grind onto his cock. You try to keep a steady pace but his tip is slamming right into your G-Spot, pressing into it no matter what he does, no matter how you move. Your legs give out halfway through a thrust and your body slams down onto him. He groans your name and hugs your body close, planting his feet on the mattress and fucking into you slowly.

“S’it too much?” You moan his name into his ear and his cock jumps inside you. “Fuck I’m-mm” His words get drawn into a whine as his thrusts slowly lose rhythm. Your pussy begins to clench on him, arousal coiling in your stomach at the telltale signs that he’s gonna cum. Steven’s hand comes to cradle your head into his neck, stoking your hair softly and whispering soft assurances and begs for you to cum around him. 

“‘M right here. I’ll take care of ‘ye, keep you nice an’ safe. C’mon. Give it t-to me.” Your orgasm explodes inside you like a solar flare. It bursts in your stomach and ripples throughout your whole body, moans are shoved from your mouth, almost deafening Steven with their volume and pitch but they only push him over the edge. His cock twitches violently inside you before releasing a torrent of cum. He tries to stay semi-calm as his orgasm crashes over him, his stomach won’t stop tensing under you and his mouth can’t shut. He can’t hold any of his moans in as his balls empty themselves inside you. 

He feels like it’ll never end, he’s at his peak for what feels like years. He can hear you distantly whining about how full you feel, about how much he’s filling you up. His hips have a mind of their own as he ruts into you pathetically, doing anything he can to prolong his euphoric high. He feels tears spring to his eyes, unable to believe that you could make him feel so good. He feels your lips over his mouth that’s propped open on a silent moan. He’s panting out whines down your throat as you whisper praises to him.

“W- It won’t stop. It- f-feels so go-od” He’s gasping at you as he speaks, his entire body shaking as his cock spurts out more ropes into you. You’re leaking all over his thighs, unable to hold all the cum he’s pumping into you. He moans out your name one last time before his body goes limp, and his cock finally stops spitting into you. He’s incoherent for quite some time, fading in and out of consciousness. 

He always whines out for you when he wakes up, sniffing and huffing until some part of you comes in contact with him. Once it does he’s pulling you into a crushing hug and doesn’t let go for at least another hour.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[immoralimmortals]

I READ THEM TAGS OFFER EM UP MY LEIGE I NEED MARRIAGE HEADCANONS FOR THE AKATSUKI

You water my crops and put the stars in the sky. I'm madly in love with you. I'm bringing this post to your feet much like a cat does their favorite toy. I have caught it. Be proud of me, mother.

Even if it's less about the whole life of being married and more about the actual act of marrying, hope that's ok!

Akatsuki Marriage Headcanons, for real this time:

Pain:

I am a huge proponent of the popular fanon opinion that if this man takes you so seriously as to express a label for it (love, spouse, etc.), he is at the brink of worshiping your feet. Don't get me wrong, in terms of the arrangement of proposal and marriage ceremony, the leader is still in charge; however, he is dictating with every detail painstakingly about you. If there is decor, it is your favorite color. If you expressed you like a certain gemstone, he tracks it down for proposal and gets the finest cut upon your finger. You don't want an actual wedding? No problem, you're just going to come home to several thousand lit candles and a profession of commitment as deep from his heart as a corpse is in the grave.

The idea is that it is necessary for this bond to be formalized, at least for his own sake. Pain would refer to it as something you need to hear. If he is nothing else, he is serious about whatever he experiences emotionally; that goes for both his immense suffering and his most delicate of joys. He declares you his, neigh: commands...but only after you assure him yes.

If a traditional proposal is done, it must be in private. He dares not be too exposed. It's already so much that he has become vulnerable to you.

It is a hard privilege to earn. And so, the Akatsuki leader pays you back in kind. As long as you both shall live, you are his deity. You will never want, not as long as he is allowed to bask in you.

Pain kisses you firmly, one hand on your wrist and one on your back. You are to feel both his presence and his commitment.

A wedding song for you: Take me to Church by Hozier (yes I am a sucker for this song, yes yes and yes) or Ship in a Bottle by fin

Konan:

All at once, her heart aches in the best and worst ways, as it is such a curse of the Akatsuki to have had their loves taken too soon. Up till this point, she has been passive, letting you lead the relationship, but now- despite how much she yearns for the same- the angel stands her ground.

"Why?" you ask her in retaliation. She's thin-lipped as she refuses the real answer. It takes a couple tries over a few, staggered moments in private for the truth to tumble out:

She does not want another person she loves to die because of her. It's irrational; your death is not predetermined by the commitment. And yet it remains. She is scared, and the closer you get the more she stings.

But you have to press closer. You have to assure, promise, fight your way back into her heart as it tries to close you out in self protection. You succeed, thanks to one of the reasons you adore Konan: her capacity to hope, no matter the circumstance. Reminder her of that, and she can only be yours.

The wedding is small, the two of you and whomever you deem precious enough to witness. (I imagine probably not even a full handful). It is twilight and the color of the world is shaded blue. Blue as her hair, blue as she feels whenever you're away, blue in the same way the purest of whites are to the human eye. You are pristine. The paper that folds the bouquets that drape around you are spotless and glow in the moonlight in such a way they're almost lanterns. Their starkly pale and crisply folded nature surround as if it is her prayer that everything that is good may stay that way.

Konan kisses you in such a way that no part of you but your lips touch one another. It is chaste, it is soft, it is a seal.

A wedding song for you: Saturn by Sleeping at Last (I cry every single time I hear this in full. I sincerely think there are few songs that have so viscerally touched me like this one has.) or Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie

Obito:

You cannot get his single-mindedness off of Rin. There is no way around it, and anything meant as distraction will not only fail but backfire on you. Therefore, if you are this deep into a partnership, you are there not in spite of her but thanks to her. You will be compared and contrasted to no end; this is not cruel, it is merely how he shapes his worldview in regards to goodness and love. You are his second chance. You are his solitude.

You don't get opportunity to propose. He will tell you first.

It is every definition of a ceremony, almost ritualistic, almost like they're crowning a king/queen. The ceilings are tall and decorated with the visage of ancestors and gods. Incense is lit and the setting sun sets the room on fire with orange and red. You are presented to him, ornate in the way he demands. A masked face cannot hide the lust and satisfaction in his voice. His hand reaches out, and you take it. For perhaps the first time, the mask is tilted to hide from their audience while still showing his scarred face to you.

His kiss is hard. Not sloppy, but hard. His hand is on the back of your head, and he going to press you into him until your soul enters his body.

A wedding song for you: Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake or Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie

Bad relationship songs because I can't control myself: Anybody Else by Dom Fera (THE song of all time for me, I love it) or Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Zetsu:

Marriage? That's a fascinating concept. He's never had the desire for this kind of relationship before, but as you talk more and more of it, the more he grasps. In the end, it is a concept that matters to you, and he can appreciate the sentiment of it.

The weirdest part, honestly, is that you reserved such a thing for him.

Though he follows along (you must guide the entire arrangement), he quietly, curiously doubts the whole time. But your guiding hand is so soft as you take him and lead, so nice onto his skin as you select two rings and slide one on each color of hand. You make no mistake: it is both you are marrying. It is both you are committing to. That recognition is his first step into a hesitant acceptance of your eternal love.

When the time comes, you walk him to the first place you met, beside a large tree in a clearing with no human settlement in sight. None of the "don't see the bride/groom" tradition, it has no room here. Any amount of people you want are there, regardless of if it is everyone or no one. (He would prefer no one, but this is all for you, after all). As you're about to kiss him, he makes one request. It is the only thing Zetsu has asked for in all of this time:

Let him taste you.

How can you tell him no?

So his bi-colored lips part, taking your bottom lip into his first, and then rounded teeth gently drag the flesh into his mouth. Pressure is applied and you taste your blood, though fleetingly as he drinks it in. In all the time you've known him, this is the closest Zetsu has ever been to you. In this symbolic action, you have finally gained his full and complete trust.

Zetsu's kiss is metallic but it is not cold. It is pensive, meditative, doing his best to understand that which you crave, and so he does his best to crave you. He cups your face in both of his ringed hands so he need not focus on anything but your taste.

A wedding song for you: & by Tally Hall or Yes to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood

Hidan:

At first he's going to make fun of you. He's going to tell you that this is the dumbest idea he's ever heard. And when you go quiet and don't bring it up again, he is going to pin you down and demand to be told why you changed your mind.

This man wants you so much, he can't fathom it. What is marriage if you must slaughter your neighbor? Well...a lover is a step above neighbor, isn't it?

Thank Jashin he doesn't need to kill you to get married.

If you do a traditional wedding, he will drag his feet but he will do it. It's to your detriment alone, really, how obnoxious he'd be. If you pin a flower to his lapel, he'll rip it off. He'll spit to the side in disgust at any mushy gushy talk done in front of others in this bastardization of another religion's ritual. This isn't a real ceremony. Let him show you what a wedding really is:

It's going to end up with your blood on his body and his blood on yours. He makes you straddle his lap, in the middle of the symbol of his lord that he's drawn upon the floor. The same sigil is dangled from a chain, his necklace held between you, from your view right between his intense violet eyes. The metal is cold as it plays a barrier between your lips and his.

Hidan's kiss is reverent. If this Jashinist is marrying you, he fucking means it. Do more than tolerate the cut a knife makes into your palm; pray to it.

...And then he will pray to you.

A wedding song for you: I Wanna Be Your Slave by Maneskin or Misanthrapologist by Will Wood

Bad relationship song I can't help but add: This is Love by Air Traffic Controller

Kakuzu:

Despite popular belief, this is not a man who fusses over money the way Scrooge does over every last coin. By the contrary, it is that he is a man that does not have much to give. This is in every sense, it turns out. Kakuzu is a man that has had all hope in humanity and for himself beat the hell out of him, so it's a shock to him if you hint at a desire for marriage. A mistake, that's what you're trying to make, here. At first he'll rebuff with few words but still sure, but it'll hitch onto him like a tick. A traditional man at heart, you know best to let him propose himself.

And so he does. It is the only time you've ever seen him doubt himself, but of course you tell him yes. As you throw your arms around him, that's when reality hits in the best of ways.

He does not wait, not if you don't oppose him. He takes you to a temple, middle of nowhere with no one either of you or your nations will know. For an old man, it's such a romantic, young man's task to arrange to elope. The priest marries you, as you sit side by side at the break of dawn upon his stoop. He wears his mask, still wears long robes to cover his stitches, but his silky brown hair drifts so beautifully with the wind; he will say this compliment is one he had of you and yours, when he looks back upon today. You are his world, intertwined in an immortal and mortal life.

Kakuzu does not kiss you at the wedding. That comes later, when no one else is there. He pulls down his mask and takes your mouth upon his, tangled until one of you can't breathe anymore.

A wedding song for you: Vanilla Curls by Teddy Hyde or Budapest by George Ezra

Deidara:

A flirt he may be, but a guy of commitment? Hell no. At first he's really flattered, chuckling and letting a large smirk trail up one side of his face. It falls when he realizes you're being serious. "Wait, really?" You nod, and his always-intense stare seems a bit closer to concerned.

"My dear...you're getting carried away, aren't you?" he offers like a second chance to not embarrass yourself.

Everything, as it always has for Deidara, has happened so fast it hits him before he recognizes what it is. Love is included, even and up until the point he's in this deep. Honestly? It terrifies him. He'll laugh and walk away, but it'll fucking haunt him.

A couple days of flying on a bird, all by his lonesome, and he returns with a bit of a different view. Life is short, beauty is fleeting: the opportunity is here and damned if he don't take it. He offers your hand- both in marriage and for a ride- and you soar into the sky.

There's no such thing as a traditional wedding, no need for it when the most beautiful things in the world are you and his art. Explosions and fireworks alike light up the night sky and he leans over to whisper his dedication upon your lips.

Deidara's kiss is, of course, bombastic. It's intense and with tongue and repeats, over and over, never lasting too long as he can't keep his love-drunk words to himself for longer than two seconds. Streamers and confetti flutter around your heads, grander than any parade for any newly wed prince or princess.

A wedding song for you: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience or Fear and Delight by The Correspondents

Sasori:

Only someone who knows him as well as you will pick up the subtlest shifts of the scorpion's expression, the way brown eyes barely widen. You bring it up, nearly like a dream you had, nearly like you're talking to yourself in your sleep, but he hears it. Sasori continues with his work, the monotony of woodwork allowing him to chew on the idea. A marriage isn't necessary, of course...but he also will lie to himself about how downright alluring the symbolism of a wedding is.

If the most beautiful things are eternal, why not your love?

If you've gotten him so far that Sasori will consider whatever form of affection he can manage in his barely organic heart, then he will make every second of your life never-ending bliss.

He decorates you, almost like one of his dolls, in the finest patterns of fabric and sleekest of jewelry. He pains over every inch of skin on top of muscle and bone, the way the ring slips on your finger and the way your wrist bends to do it. The ritual is an art piece, and you gaze upon him so marvelously... Your lips part with such slight but sure poise...

The venue is silent and you both are alone. Not even a bird caws, no insect chirps. Pure, clear as glass silence. You are the only two beings in all of existence. You will ascend time itself. A single candle is lit as you sit in the deepest depths of this cave, where no one may interrupt.

Where no one can hear him confess to you.

Sasori's kiss is soft, far too soft. He holds both of your hands so delicately, like they're on a string. Lines of chakra help you move into him in a way that is just right, just utterly perfect.

A wedding song for you: Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert or Dark of the Matinee by Franz Ferdinand

Kisame:

Shockingly enough, this guy is going to be your hardest sell. Perhaps predictably, it isn't because he dislikes marriage, settling down, falling in love. Disliking and opposing are very different things.

He panics, at least just a little the first time you mention it. "I'm a shinobi, you know. You won't see me very much." Time passes on, and your desire appears again:

"I'm a rough guy. Just take a second to think about what you're asking for, alright?"

More time, and more desperation on his part with your persistence:

"I am meant to die alone," he finally tells you outright. "Don't bother with me. You could be spending your time so much better than fussing over someone who isn't going to last."

But you do, and he does last. Unfortunately, he does last. It gnaws him to the bone.

"Alright," he'll ask you, a long time since you first expressed your wants, "Are you certain?" You say yes, of course you say yes. Bittersweet, sharp teeth smile. "Very well," the swordsman concedes.

You marry traditionally, though very small. A hood drapes over him, hiding his face as the priest speaks the seal of marriage. His hand clings to yours, so very afraid of losing you. Or worse: making you lose him.

With the formalities out of the way, his own way begins. Finally alone, you both plunge into deep water, a loud splash quickly muting to flooded ears. He holds your face as your hair drifts past him in strands noses nearly touching. Kisame gets a good look at you before he changes everything forever, closing his eyes.

Kisame's kiss is a leap of faith. It tastes like lake water and seaweed and his love. He presses all of you into him like a shell holds a pearl, limbs climbing around you as you suspend in water and sink. Breathe into him, breathe deep. Every last breath in his lungs is just for you.

A wedding song for you: Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood or If I'm Being Honest by dodie

Itachi:

The implications of this circumstance are astounding. He loves you- yes, of course he does- but what's more is that he loves you enough to be so selfish as to gift himself to you, even knowing the fate he's reserved. It is both impressive and heartbreaking. Have hope, you ask of him. That is all you ask of him. Give it a chance. It is what he wants, isn't it?

Of course it is. But are you okay if the inevitable comes true?

You pause, and he studies your naive, innocent eyes. But you know more than perhaps Itachi has realized. You know it is okay to treasure. It is okay to enjoy. The journey matters more than the destination. Yes, it is okay, you tell him, you love to love him all the same.

Dark eyes close. Then he will give you what is desired.

Kisame is present, of course, as well as the ancestors of the Uchiha clan in spirit. You are radiant, and he tells you so. You return the compliment in soft earnest. A single hand cups your cheek as he approaches, pausing to feel and taste your breath as it drifts into his mouth.

Itachi's kiss is barely there, like he's afraid of breaking glass. If you want to kiss deeper, you'll need to go in and get it yourself. Just don't mistake delicacy for a lack of interest. This is the most of his body he has ever given in his entire life. Just give him time.

A wedding song for you: Herbal Tea by Velvet Moon or Here For You by Good Co

[matchadobo]

Hey! If it’s okay, can I request Kidd going absolutely feral because his s/o got hurt?

KIDD; avenging you

wc: 771 warning/s: gn reader, violence, mentions of blood and scars, super short ><

"where are they? let me fucking see them." kidd tried shimmying through the crowd that stood before the doors of the ship's clinic. they were stopping him and he wasn't gonna stand idly and follow.

"captain, they're in a critical state. they shouldn't see any visitors yet." said the ship doctor, shivering under the frigid gaze of the pirate. "it'll be until tomorrow before we allow visitors, their wounds are still too fresh."

kidd gave everyone one last glare, before finally surrendering and turning his back. stomping away with one objective in mind.

"and where do you plan to go, kidd?" killer called out, following after the redhead.

"don't follow me." he firmly replied, not looking back. his tone was sharp and no one planned on disobeying him. "i'll beat his ass and leave no fucking trace of that marine."

so he descended his ship and off he goes to the port nearby, using his devil fruit to pin those who stand on his way. throwing heaps of metal that gathered above him, bolts of lightning sending the navy flying. he was seeing red, he wanted to see red.

remorseless as he is, kidd lived up to his name as one of the most ruthless and vicious pirate befitting the title as one of the worst generation. he bullied each that blocked his path with his power, ignoring the pleads and screams with no regard whether those are civilians or navy.

"where's the shithead who hurt one of us?" he growled, brusque as he fisted the collar of one of the marines. "start talkin' less crying, aye?!" he gruffly added, nostrils flaring.

killer and the others were behind him, cleaning up his mess and watching his back. they kept an eye out for the marines. instead of stopping him, they opted that supporting him would atleast get them somewhere. going against their captain only applies at certain circumstances and this isn't one of them. besides, they also wanted to get back at the pack of idiots who dare to hurt you.

once the marine had shivered enough to tell him where the bastard is, kidd wasted no time and propeled himself with piles of metals to the highest place in the building.

"found you." he grinned maniacally, listing down the things he plans to do with this dumbass vice captain. he had a devil fruit and he caught you off guard. once he had you on his grasp, he pinned you down and mercilessly scarred you. killer and the others were too busy fending other marines off while kidd dealt with the captain. "you've got some goddamn nerve laying a hand on what's mine."

it took the entire evening until dawn before kidd was finished with the poor marine. kidd pummeled the bastard to a pit underground that he created from the top. he bled the vice captain dry, and the captain had no chance of calling for back up because of killer. last thing kidd knew was the guy wasn't breathing before he was satisfied with his bloody creation.

you soon found kidd sleeping on his seat that was positioned next to you. dried blood littered his pale skin. he had a few scratches but it's obvious that the blood was not his. he had his arms crossed, head almost falling to the side as he dozed off. you figured he waited for you to wake up, it was already evening.

you shuffled a little, but it only took one whimper from you for him to shot up from his seat. "w-why are you bloody?" you weakly uttered. your voice was hoarse and your lips were dry.

"you shoulda seen the other guy." he laughed, he reached over to brush your hair at the top of your head with his palm. he looked at you with the softest gaze; well, he always looked at you like that, no one else. you could see how he pained to see you like this from the way his eyes softened.

"sorry." you covered your face, ashamed in front of your lover and captain. "that was shameful as a kidd pirate-"

"aaah fuck off with that." kidd cut you off, prying your hands away from your face and holding them together. his thumb rubbing circles at the back of your hand. "they outnumbered us and i was careless. don't worry your little head because i gave it to 'em back tenfold."

you smiled a little, if it weren't for the pain you would've laughed. "i'll be stronger." you pledged, looking deeply into his eyes.

"get fuckin' better first and i'll see you through it."

hello >< tysm for the requesttt <3

i've been gone for a while i'm sorry. i wanted to draw a lot and i just realized how much i made u guys wait TT, i hope i can come up with something to make it up to those who're waiting <3 i haven't been feeling my best lately so let's pray that this subsides wkwkwkwkwk

[callofdudes]

Hi! I am currently down with the sickness (not in the fun way) could you please write a fic with the cod guys and a sick reader? (Sore throat, congestion, cough) anyhoo I love your writing!!

Aww, well I hope you are doing better by now, but if you aren't, then here you have the boys taking good care of you.

141 taking care of a sick reader.

You hadn't been feeling well the last couple of days. It started small, a little headache, and your throat started to feel sore. Swallowing became rough and almost painful, causing you to drink more water and stealing from Simons tea stash more often.

This is actually how the others caught on.

Because you stole Simon's tea. And he noticed.

Another day, coughing your face off in your office. Your raw throat hurt, coughing again and taking another sip of tea, noticing you were getting low again.

Feeling too warm, too cold. Sniffly. You didn't want to admit that you were sick. It was less about telling the others and not doing anything but the fact of being sick. You never liked being sick.

You swallowed the last gulp of your tea and stood up, swishing the cup and heading out of your office to the shared common space kitchen further down the hall.

Surprised to get there and see Johnny and Simon talking while Simon made himself tea.

"Hey guys." You rasped, reaching to the cupboard to snatch another of Simon's tea packets.

Johnny looked at you. "Fuckin' hell, you look bloody terrible."

"Well thanks..."

Simon also looked at you. Seeing your flushed face, droopy eyes, stuffy nose, raw throat. "You're sick."

"I know..."

"So what the hell are you doing up?"

You look up at him and shrug, sniffling and wiping your nose on your sleeve out of habit. Simon gives you that look. The one of 'I'm not impressed' look.

You coughed again, forcing it into your sleeve and away from the two, and they had seen enough. They looked at each other, sharing a glance or two.

"I'll get this one to bed." Simon finished up your tea, giving the warm cup to you and ushered you down the hall.

"What??" You asked as you were led off away from the kitchen.

"You need rest and recovery. Not to mention we don't want you getting us sick as well." Simon's hand hovering over your back as he led you to your room. He placed your cup of tea on the nightstand and let you get dressed into comfier clothing before snuggling into bed.

Simon tucked the blankets in, wrapping you up and patting the top of your head a little roughly. "There. Now just... Sleep."

"That's not how it works... Simon..." You rasped, already feeling your droopy eyelids increase by 100 pounds.

Simon turned to the door as another few set of footsteps came in, Johnny coming in with new pillows and blankets. Making sure you were extra buried and tucked in.

Gaz also followed, having the medical supplies the check your condition.

"Hey y/n, heard you're sick." Gaz pulled out the thermometer.

"Hey Gaz... yeah..."

He tipped your chin and you opened your mouth so he could stick the thermometer under your tongue. Hearing it beep and then pulling it out, looking at the number.

"You're 38 Celsius. So average cold temperature. You'll be ok."

You nod. "Thank you."

Johnny ruffles your hair. "Get some rest Eggy, you'll need it."

You smile softly, patting his hand and closing your eyes, feeling the weight of your skeleton sink into the pillows.

Later in the evening you heard movement and someone touching your head. You moaned in pain, your throat dry and swallowing was painful. You opened your eyes, rubbing them and looking up.

"Mm, did I wake you?"

Price ran his hand through your hair. In the last couple hours one of them had placed a cold cloth on your head that had warmed over time.

"Hey cap..." You smiled weakly, sniffling and then coughing violently. Price moved the edge of your blanket in front of your mouth, handing you some tissues and getting your tea cup ready.

"Easy, easy." He said softly, letting you blow your nose and trick shot it into the garbage can.

Price chuckles softly, handing you your tea, making sure you were sat up to drink. "Sorry I didn't tell you guys earlier." You said before nearly swallowing all the tea.

"Its alright. You'll tough it out."

You smile softly and nod. "Yeah, I guess I'll be ok. Just gotta get better." You swallowed the last of your tea and relaxed again. Price took the cup from you, running his hand gently over your forehead, feeling your flushed skin.

"I'll get you some more tea."

"Thank you."

Price nodded and got up, leaving you and soon coming back with more tea. He placed it on the nightstand, seeing your eyes barely open. He caresses your cheek, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"You get some more rest kiddo." He whispered, leaving your room and gently closing the door.

You slept a majority of the day. Letting your body catch up from all the work you had been doing. And later toward the night you found yourself restless, congestion building up in your throat.

Coughing badly, your throat sore that everything hurt. You could barely lay still as you turned over in your blanket mess.

You groaned, hearing a knock on your door. "Come in." You coughed, sitting up and grabbing your tea to swallow it down.

Johnny and Gaz opened your door. "It sounds like you're dying in here." Gaz chuckled as he came over.

"Is it that loud??" You sniffled.

"Yeah, it is. We figured you wouldn't mind some company."

You groaned and shook your head. "I'll get you sick-" You coughed again, making Gaz cringe a little. "Hang on, give me a second." He rushed out of the room, leaving you with Johnny.

"We'll be ok. We just want to make sure you are comfortable and happy."

"Well... I'm not feeling very happy right now." You grimaced, sniffling and reaching for more tissues.

Johnny came over and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your leg through the blanket. "But hey, you'll be back up on your feet soon. Just like always right?"

You huff. "That's what Price said."

"Old man's always right."

Gaz comes back with a pack of lozenges, pulling one out for you. "It should help a bit." You nod, taking it and popping it into your mouth. "Thank you."

Johnny crawls onto the bed, gently ruffling your hair and wraps his arms around you.

"Johnny.... I'll get you sick."

"Nonsense, John MacTavish doesn't get sick."

You sighed and closed your eyes, sinking back into it. It was nice. There wasn't much more room for Gaz on top of all the blankets, but his work was done, leaning down and kissing your temple and ruffling your hair before leaving.

"Night mates."

"Night Gaz." Johnny replied, smiling softly as you drifted back asleep in his arms.

Waking up the next morning you still felt bad. Bring woken up in a coughing fit, your throat feeling backed up and sore, like something was stuck.

You reached for your cup of tea, it was cold and bland now but you guzzled the last of it down to hope it would help.

Popping a lozenge as well for good measure. "Hell..." You rasped, laying back in bed.

And then you realized that Johnny wasn't with you anymore. You looked at the empty side of your bed, humming softly and closing your eyes. Maybe he couldn't sleep with all your incessant coughing.

Your eyes weren't closed for long before you heard a knock at your door.

"Come in!" Your voice cracked as the door opened and Simon came in. "Hello."

"Hey Ghost..." You sniffled, seeing something in his hands.

"What you got there?"

"Oh this?" He flipped the book in his hand. "Thought I'd read you a little mornin' story. Called Sadie and the Pink sock."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You're a real prick, aren't ya?"

He grinned under the mask, you knew. He sat down on the edge of your bed. "I'm kidding. Soap said I needed to... so I brought an old horror book."

"Simon... not horror."

Simon clicked his tongue, flicking to the first page. "What a coincidence it's about a person who gets a very disgusting sickness and- well I'll just read it to you."

You shivered, but you knew you weren't getting out of it. And horror or not, Simon's voice was soothing to listen to in the right tone.

You hummed, closing your eyes and settling back into bed as Simon began to read.

And somewhere along the way Gaz came in with breakfast. Helping you sit up and placing the plate of warm food in your lap, and a side bowl of warm chicken noodle soup on your nightstand.

Simon got a little comfier on your bed as he read the book. It honestly was pretty interesting, even if it was starting to get slightly gross.

You couldn't complain with getting pampered, it was such an interesting switch. That and how most of them were entirely unwilling to entertain the idea of ever getting sick in their entire lifetime ever- coughsimoncough.

Anyhow.

This is how it went over the weeks. Simon sent to read you his book with a disinterested tone, pausing and making sure you were ok when you coughed. Making sure you got bathroom breaks and some exercise.

Gaz would bring you breakfast and food through the day.

Price would come to check up on you but had mostly taken on the duty of finishing up some of your work, he knew you'd appreciate it when this was all set and done.

But he came in to say goodnight like he always did and check in on you sometime in the morning.

Johnny could come and snuggle with you whenever you felt uncomfortable and wriggling around, unable to settle.

It was nice. It was really nice. They took good care of you.

The occasional time you threw up Simon panicked and grabbed your regular garbage can to use. Which quickly turned into him excusing himself to begrudgingly tie up the bag of vomit and go throw it out. You're lucky he didn't kill you right then and there... or make you take it out yourself.

Or the time you were snuggling with Johnny and coughed up a storm right into his chest, trying to apologize even before you had some tea, your head feeling dizzy from all the snot on top of that. But Johnny didn't mind, only telling you to get comfy, get out what you needed to.

Gaz made you chicken noodle soup with chicken chunks in it, and after seeing you guzzle down the minor change, added chicken chunks to each new bowl and flavored up the broth a little more. Making what you'd ask for if in advance and good for your body.

Price stopping in to give you updates, give little anecdotes on recruits or paperwork. And you laughed so hard your voice cracked again and you accidentally got snot all over him, all of t deciding to come out then.

Price didn't say anything to your face but politely excused himself. Leaving you to blow your nose until it hurt. But your head felt better after!

And when all was set and done, you finally woke up one morning, still feeling a little backed up in the head, but your throat was hardly as sore as before and your voice was back to normal. You smiled, getting up out of bed, feeling less dizzy, normal temperature.

You beat it!!

Yes!

You immediately rushed to tell the others-....

Where were the others??

The common area empty, offices, empty. You hummed. They would all definitely be up by now??

You saw Price eventually drag himself into the kitchen sniffling a little. "Hey y/n."

"Hey Price... where are the others?"

Price looked at you, and shrugged, going to make s coffee.

You frowned, going to investigate, you opened Johnny's door, only to find him droopy, sniffling and coughing.

Oh.

You went and found Gaz in his room, tucked in shivering in his blanket, sniffling and looking just as droopy.

Oh...

And Simon?? Simon Ghost Riley. Indestructible to all sicknesses. You opened his door a crack, seeing him passed out in bed with all the blankets piled on top of himself, and his garbage can full of crumpled tissues.

Oh.

Well you warned them. But perhaps you could try and safely pay them back for what they did for you. And hopefully, you wouldn't get sick again.

[mythmash]

In Sickness

Pairing: Takuma Ino x F!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: birthday sickfic, lots of fluff, implied smut A/N: This was written for the wonderful @pastelbunnelby! JJK Masterlist

If there’s one thing Ino loves more than you, it’s the chance to celebrate you.

He’s been looking forward to your birthday for weeks, excitement pouring out of him each day it grew closer. A day hasn’t gone by without him dropping little hints hidden behind that charming grin of his. And it’d be a lie to say his eagerness wasn’t contagious. Every tease, every clue, every promise that your first birthday as a couple would be nothing short of spectacular had you eagerly awaiting the day almost as much as him.

That eagerness turns to pure, unfiltered excitement the night before your birthday when a box appears at your front door. It’s plain, smooth black material tied with a silky, white ribbon. The size tells you it’s either a dress or an outfit, but the card tucked into the ribbon gives you clear instructions not to open it until morning. Your fingers itch to disobey, nails picking at the edges of the ribbon, the corners of the lid, any part they can reach as you carry the box to your bedroom.

A little peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

Knowing what you’ll be wearing would help you figure out how to do your hair…

What if there are no shoes in the box? You wouldn’t want Ino’s plans to be delayed because you spent too long finding the right pair.

What if it’s not an outfit at all? That’s even more time you’ll waste trying to find something else to wear.

Your mind races with a million reasons to tear into the box, fingers already curling under the lid.

But Ino’s handsome face flashes through your mind, a tight smile hiding his imagined disappointment. Something knots in your stomach, immediately repulsed at possibly ruining weeks of work. If Ino can manage to wait this long without spoiling the surprise, you can too.

You quell your anxious urges by sending him a picture of yourself holding the box before tucking it beneath your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Ino responds immediately, your phone buzzing once, twice, thrice as you prepare for bed.

Several texts await you when you finally settle in bed. A slew of heart emojis followed by a paragraph of compliments and finished with a single text wishing you a good night. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, feeling the warmth in your cheeks and the thrumming in your heart at the thought of him so excited to spend time with you.

You fall asleep staring at his photo beaming at you from the lock screen of your phone, and dream of all the ways you’ll spend tomorrow.

With all of your anticipation, it’s only fitting that you wake early the next morning with a throbbing pain nested comfortably in your head. When you shift beneath your covers, the pain spreads to your limbs, leaving a resounding ache. Every move, every blink, every thought only serves to make you feel worse until you grow frustrated and force yourself to sit up.

Your mistake is quickly realized as your vision doubles, stomach turning so violently you choke trying to swallow down your dry heave.

Of all the days for this to happen.

Carefully laying yourself back down, you gingerly slide your hand to the side for your phone. It takes a sickening effort to lift your phone and even more to get it close to your face. The artificial light is nearly blinding in the early morning hours, sending renewed pulses of pain through your skull. You put all your focus and concentration into unlocking your phone and finding Ino’s texts. There’s no way you’ll be able to form a proper sentence, much less type it out.

You’re not entirely sure what you say to him in the voice note. You know what you meant to say — something along the lines of “I’m so sorry, I think I’m sick.” — but your throat scratches with every word. Combined with your already sleep-thick voice, the message is short and takes what little energy you have left.

You succumb to your body’s exhaustion with the thought that maybe you should’ve called him.

When you wake again, it’s late in the morning. While your body no longer vibrates with pain, the heat building beneath your covers is suffocating and the scratch in your throat has grown significantly. Sweat-soaked and barely awake, you stumble your way to your bathroom and into the shower.

Most of your shower is spent sitting on the floor, letting the icy water wash across your overheated skin. You don’t bother with anything more than that, only just able to power through brushing your teeth before you feel that draining heaviness growing in your limbs.

You collapse on your bed, draped over your blankets half-dressed in clean pajamas, and fumble once more for your phone. You’re able to send an actual text this time, informing Ino of your current state and apologizing profusely. There’s no response, not even his usual thumbs up or heart reaction.

Ino isn’t one to get upset when plans change, always happy to go with the flow, but you know how much he was looking forward to today. He could need a moment to deal with his disappointment. Or he could be busy and not looking at his phone. You don’t want to jump to conclusions and assume the worst, but the guilt swimming around in your head has your anxiety on high.

Eyelids growing heavy, you tell yourself you’ll try again in fifteen minutes. If that doesn’t work, then you’ll call him.

Fifteen minutes, you think, letting your head sink into the soft cushion of your pillow.

All you need is fifteen minutes…

Three knocks in quick succession pull you out of your dreamless sleep. You wake confused and slightly startled, groaning into your pillow as the light and sound and blankets draped over you hit you all at once.

“Sorry.” Ino’s voice reaches your ears, gentle and soothing. You chase the sound, the comfort it brings, turning your head in the direction of his voice. The light is still too much for you, peering one eye open to gaze at the concerned face of your boyfriend. He kneels beside your bed, dressed down to a black shirt and loose shorts with his beanie resting on your nightstand.

“Morning,” you rasp, lips pulled into a tired smile.

“Evening,” Ino chuckles, reaching out to tenderly place the back of his hand against your damp forehead. “Looks like your fever’s gone down.”

“How long have you been here?” You speak slowly, trying not to agitate your already raw throat. Ino hums, turning his hand to rest it against your cheek. You lean into his touch, the soft glide of his thumb over your cheekbone nearly soothing you back to sleep.

“Couple hours,” Ino shrugs. “I got us lunch, but you were knocked out pretty good.”

“What time is it?” you ask, turning your head in search of your phone. Ino pulls his hand away to pluck your phone from where it’s hidden beneath his beanie, plugged in to charge.

“Not late enough to worry your pretty little head,” he teases. He doesn’t tell you, but the burnt orange shining through your windows gives you your answer. Guilt settles firmly in the pit of your stomach, not helped by the empathetic smile Ino gives you. Not a hint of anger or disappointment, only concern tinted with sadness.

Somehow, that feels worse.

You turn away, face pressed into the pillow as you give a muffled, “’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing? For being sick?” There’s a pinch to your cheek, playfully scolding. You huff, puffing out your cheeks to push his hand away before shifting to sit up. Ino hovers beside you, ready and waiting if you need him.

“But…I ruined your plans…” you murmur. Fingers worrying at the blankets, you keep your gaze fixed on a loose thread you tear from the soft material.

“Hey—” A gentle grasp on your chin carefully turns your head until you’re face to face with Ino, “—you didn’t ruin anything.”

He leans forward, lightly pressing his forehead to yours.

“But—”

“Nope.” He cuts your words off with a swift kiss to your nose.

“I wasn’t—”

Another kiss. Then a peck to your cheek.

“Ino—”

He moves for your lips, and you swiftly cover his mouth with your palm.

“You’re going to get sick,” you scold him. His response is another kiss immediately followed by his tongue messily sliding up your palm. You shove his face away, smiling through your disgusted scoff as his laughter echoes in your room.

“It’s too late for that, anyway. I took a nap with you earlier.”

“You—what?” Ino’s up and moving before you have time to process that.

He searches through your clothes, casually moving between your closet and dresser. He pauses once, a pair of your favorite fuzzy socks in hand, speaking to you over his shoulder, “You think you can get up?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod. He hums, satisfied, tossing you the socks before moving back to your closet. He fishes through your clothes for a bit longer while you pull the socks on, but gives up his search when you move to sit on the edge of your bed. Ino grins, standing before you with his hands out.

“Up and at ‘em!” he cheers as you set your hands in his and he helps you to your feet. You wobble, but Ino is quick to steady you against his chest. He gives you a minute to adjust to being upright for the first time in hours, placing several kisses on the side of your head.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

“Good,” Ino hums, moving out of your reach to stand behind you. “Now, you trust me, right?”

“Of course,” you answer instantly. Ino pauses for a moment, the stillness only broken when he leaves a long kiss on the side of your neck. He mutters something, and you catch the words perfect and lucky somewhere in there before he clears his throat.

“Cover your eyes for me?”

You do as he says, eyes sliding shut before you cover them with your hands.

One of Ino’s hands rests in the middle of your back, the other on your arm. His radiating warmth sinks into your skin, chasing away the chill of your lingering fever.

“You let me know if you need a break, okay?”

There’s some shuffling behind you as Ino leans forward, lips grazing the shell of your ear. His voice low, a familiar timbre reserved only for you, you can hear the smirk when he reminds you, “No peeking.”

Ino leads you to your bedroom door, separating from you for a brief moment to hold it open for you. You’re guided down the short hallway from your room to the living room where a delicious, savory scent awaits you accompanied by a subtle rush of warm air and soft music.

“Okay,” Ino breathes, pulling away from you. You can hear his feet shuffling around the room, the clink of metal, and the rustling of…tissue paper? Ino mutters something again, taking a deep, uncharacteristically nervous, breath.

“Open your eyes.”

It’s not often you’re left speechless, but the sight of your living room takes your breath away. The lights are off, replaced by the glowing amber of the electric candles set up around the room. Music plays from Ino’s phone, something delicate and classical at a volume low enough to hear, but not too loud to worsen your headache. Your coffee table is decorated with tiny candles and flowers, plates and silverware set up like a romantic dinner with soup from your favorite restaurant and wine glasses filled with ginger ale.

And at the center of it all stands Ino, holding a gift bag and bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Happy birthday.”

“You planned all this?” you ask, nearly breathless.

“There was some last-minute improvising, but it’s most of what I planned.” Ino ducks his head, bashful as he attempts to avoid your eyes.

“It’s perfect.”

He perks up as you make your way towards him.

“Rea—”

You interrupt him, hands on his cheeks as you pull him in to meet your lips. You don’t pull away, instead peppering thankful kisses from his mouth to each cheek.

“What happened to me getting sick?” Ino laughs, trying to chase your lips and meet you kiss for kiss.

You take a step back, hand pressed to your chest in mock offense. “So you don’t want me to kiss you?”

Ino sets the gift bag down, moving to wrap an arm around your waist with surprising speed. It’s his turn to smother you in affection as he switches between kisses and nuzzling against your cheek. His nose tickles against your face, giggles spilling out of you.

"I didn't say that."

It’s a sweet moment, one you’ll surely treasure for the rest of your life until the laughter catches up with you and the giggles turn to coughing.

Ino guides you to get comfortable at the coffee table, setting your flowers down on the sofa behind you before he settles in next to you.

Dinner is peaceful, content. Ino lets you lean against him, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, as you slowly get through your soup, telling you stories about his friends, his job, anything that he knows will make you smile. He admits to annoying his mentor, Nanami, with his unreserved excitement for your birthday, and kisses away the niggling guilt that crosses your face.

“We have plenty of time. We can do it all another day,” he says easily.

“Good,” you huff, tucking yourself against his side as he takes a sip from his glass. “I want to wear the outfit you got me.”

Ino sputters and chokes, turning away from you to cough into the crook of his elbow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ino waves you away, turning further and further every time you lean closer. There’s only so far he can go, and it isn’t hard to catch the blazing red of his cheeks.

Was he flustered over the dress? Why? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s bought clothes for you; he’s never been this shy about it before. The only time you can remember seeing him like this was on your fourth date when you walked by a window display that had a pale pink mannequin wearing—

Worry melts into mischief as you practically crawl your way into his lap until he’s forced to face you.

“Did you get me lingerie for my birthday?”

Ino groans, tucking his head so far into the crook of your neck you can’t tell if the heat is coming from your fever or his face.

“You said you liked it in the window.” Ino lifts his head just enough to pout at you. You lean down, setting your forehead to his with a soft, teasing smile.

“We have plenty of time.” You mimic his earlier words, watching the embarrassment ease from his mind as his eyes fall to your lips. Ino leans forward, and you don’t stop him.

“Why wait?” he asks, glancing up at you as if asking for permission. When you don’t object, he inches closer and closer and closer, not quite kissing you but nearly there.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you murmur against his lips.

Ino closes the gap with a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of care and affection he has for you into it. You’re sick and sweaty and gross, but the way he kisses you leaves you feeling so wanted, so precious, so loved.

He breaks away only for a second, a wide grin spread across his lips.

“Worth it.”

And when Ino gets sick four days later, you’re right there beside him with warm soup and endless kisses.

[thelittlestoflives]

Thank You

soooo i sort of have a whole backstory to the Unravelling the Mystery fic and i just thought welllll i might as well post that too lol!! (i actually have lots of parts and stories)

again, very new to fic writing and i've thrown in some y/n lore in there too!! it's so vulnerable and scary to post stuff you've written (again i suck at proofreading so forgive pls)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

sanji x strawhat!reader, or the story of how y/n became a strawhat and gravitated towards the chef

use of YN, afab reader

cw: stuff to do with horrible exes, forced eating of a devil fruit, being severely injured, slight angst to fluff but mostly fluff i think

wc: 2.7k

It was like a ritual. The breathing in the room evening out, slipping out from under the covers and creeping through the halls towards him. His arms were your salvation, every gentle kiss burning your skin with love, each touch so heavenly you could almost believe in a higher power.

You can barely remember how it began. It's like it's just always been this way.

But it wasn't.

Not when you were stuffed in that barrel, just you and the darkness and the splashing of the waves against the wood, the drip drip drip onto your already soaking clothes. You can't remember how you survived it, how you endured the minutes and the hours and the days you remained in there, physical wounds nowhere near the pain of the scarring on your soul.

And like words out of the holy texts, there was light. A piercing, bright light. But unlike the holy texts, soft mutters echoed in your ears.

"Shit. It's a girl."

"Dammit. So, it's not treasure?"

"She's injured."

"How long has she been in there?"

"Why does this always happen to us?"

“Get her out of there, for fuck’s sake! Why are you all just standing around?!”

Just like that, the light vanished and darkness returned.

When you came to you were in some sort of medical infirmary, the light streaming through the windows so intense that you could barely open your eyes. An assortment of smells hit your nose; disinfectant, bleach, salty sea air, and a bowl of rich chicken noodle soup that steamed as it sat on your bedside table.

Maybe that's when it started. The soup. You stared at it for god knows how long, tears streaming down your face at the act of kindness. The trauma of what you'd just been through vanished staring at that bowl, feeling the love of whoever made it poured into it. Your body had been wrapped in bandages and cleaned, and you wore soft pyjamas that weren't your own, your hair had been brushed, and someone had made you fucking chicken noodle soup.

A couple of days went by as your body slowly healed. The only interaction you had was with the ship's doctor as he tried to make you feel comfortable and safe. You didn't see any of the other crew, but each time you woke from a restless, haunted sleep, there was a steaming dish beside you. Before long, you were strong enough to walk around. Chopper held your hand as he led you above deck to meet the crew who sat around the kitchen table.

You felt shy and nervous. Sure, you'd spoken to pirates before, but always in a controlled environment, never on their turf.

But they were vastly different from the pirates you'd encountered, offering easy smiles and gentle words, coaxing you to tell them what had happened to you. You caught eyes with a man with a cigarette hanging casually out his mouth a couple of times, quickly looking away. Was this where it started?

You explained that you're a journalist on your home island. Or rather, were a journalist. Now? You were dust in the wind, not taking any sort of discernable shape, floating with no direction, no intention, nothing. You thought you had it all; a home, a job you loved, family, friends, and someone who you thought was the love of your life. In less than a week, it was gone.

You had been investigating a cult on your island and stumbled across a giant conspiracy involving the World Government. You had written a tell-all piece, ready to blow the whole damn thing wide open. But you made a mistake, you told your then-boyfriend about it. Turns out he wasn't who he said he was, he was one of them. Sent to keep an eye on the local journalists, he’d pretended to fall for you to keep you close. The cult that terrorised truth seekers from the shadowy underworld was an unstoppable and dangerous force and he was one of them.

They'd captured you, and when the darkness was lifted there was no heavenly bright light. Just a dank basement dimly lighting up your boyfriend's face, grinning from ear to ear as he told you in laborious detail what was about to happen to you. You would eat a Devil Fruit, they would drug you, and you would be forced to do their bidding. No choice, no control, this was it. They’d already done this to every other person who had been investigating them. They had a small army now, he informed you. An army of ‘nosey bastards who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into’. Despite your pleading, he laughed and said that you better get ready for what’s about to happen.

And so they did it. They had it all figured out. They forced you to eat the Devil Fruit, and as its powers flowed through your veins you realised that perhaps they didn’t have it all figured out after all. They didn’t account for the fact that you would be damned rather than be bested by a man.

Your powers erupted out of you, flowing with such a force that all you could do was let out a silent scream, as the shadows wrapped themselves around the foundations of the building they held you in and it collapsed into rubble. 

An arm roughly grabbed you, pulling you out of the wreckage. It had stuffed you in a barrel, and an unfamiliar voice hissed the words: “It’s better if they think you’re dead. If you survive, never return.” 

As soon as the last word of your tale left your mouth, a straw hat was placed on your head, and that’s how Luffy obtained another stray to add to his collection. You became the Strawhats’ Chronicler, your job was to forever immortalise the crew’s journey towards the One Piece and to document how Luffy became the King of the Pirates. Although it was a difficult adjustment at first, you became fast friends with the crew. Robin in particular was a huge help for you, as it was she who understood your plight the best.

Sanji kept his distance at first. You were so beautiful that he knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from flirting, and that was probably the last thing you needed right now, so he resigned himself to being helpful in the background, finding out information about you from Robin and Nami and incorporating it into his cooking. But the two of you were like magnets, unexplainably drawn to one another and soon neither of you would be able to stay away.

You were ripped from your nightmare with such force that you shot upright, sweat dripping down your back. It was the same as always, but tonight you didn’t want to wake up Robin with your tears.

And that’s how you found yourself in the kitchen, face-to-face with a certain chef. He tried not to make a fuss as he saw your hunched, small frame in the doorway, tear-stained cheeks and sleepy eyes. Really, he did. But he’s only a man, after all. He gave you a warm hug and sat you down, making his own special sleepy tea (“I promise you, you will be knocked out after this. No bad dreams for our sweet Chronicler!”).

“I meant to say thank you,” you said quietly as you sipped your tea.

He arched an eyebrow, a gentle blush on his cheeks. “For?”

“The food. When I was in the infirmary, your food made me feel…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed. 

“Made you feel what?”

You look up at him, an amused expression on his face. 

“Your chicken noodle soup made me cry,” you admit softly. “It was the first thing I saw when I woke up, and it’s my comfort food. And I cried. I was so touched that I forgot everything else. I can’t thank you enough for that. I could’ve lost my mind, but that small act grounded me.”

The blush was no longer gentle but furious as his eyes diverted from your face. “Ah. Well, it’s an honour to cook for a pretty girl like you, and even more so that it makes you feel something. So really, I should thank you for your high praises.” 

Your mouth twitched into a smile. “No, thank you!”

His mouth echoed yours. “No, no, thank you!”

And you continued like that, thanking each other more and more dramatically through laughs. The silliness wore off, and Sanji’s face turned slightly more serious.

“Look, I wanted to say something to you too,” he began. “I’m sorry that your ex betrayed you like that. No beautiful lady should ever have to suffer at the hands of a man, much less a man who should love her.”

You blink, suddenly remembering why it was you were here in the first place.

“It’s okay,” you say with a small shrug. “Well, no, it’s not okay but… I dunno. What else can I say? ‘My ex gave me up to an evil cult and altered my life forever and because of him my family think I’m dead and I didn’t even get the t-shirt’? I appreciate that though. I appreciate all of you.”

He blew air out of his nose softly as you tried to make light of what was clearly a horrific situation. 

“Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.” “Thank you, Sanji, same goes for you,” you smile.

He grins back. “No, no, no. Thank you!” 

You laugh and lightly hit his arm. “Cut it out or we’ll be here all night!”

His grin widens. “Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do.”

And maybe that’s where it starts. Those late nights in the kitchen when you both couldn’t sleep, sharing easy conversations and trying to make the other laugh. Warm mugs of tea and knees touching each other under the table. A bubble you created with just the two of you, a sacred space, with none the wiser as to these secret meetings of yours.

It would become routine for a couple of weeks. The nightmares jolt you awake, so you pad through to the kitchen for tea, smiles, and chats. 

“You know, I reckon you’re the beating heart of this crew,” you say as you blow on your tea to cool it down.

Sanji scoffs in derision. 

“No, I’m serious! If Luffy is the soul, then you’re the heart. I see everything you do for the crew, Sanj. You’ve got a kind soul.”

You wished you could frame the look on his face to cherish forever. A mix of gratitude, embarrassment, confusion, denial, and something else. Something you couldn’t quite place. 

“In saying that,” you continue, sipping on the now-cool beverage. “You look tired. If you’re looking after everyone else, who’s looking after you?”

He froze.

Your eyes are trained on his. “Look, there’s a reason we’re both here in the dead of night. You can’t sleep either, can you?” 

He looks down.

“Let me in, Sanj. Let me look after you.”

And he does. He tells you everything, and now the bond runs so deep you’re afraid. After all, the last person you fell in love with lied about it and broke your heart. You couldn’t take much more. But this was different, somehow.

Maybe it started the first night you slept in his arms. 

It was just a normal night. As usual, a nightmare ripped you from sleep. It was a particularly bad one this time, your cheeks wet with tears as you made your way to the kitchen. But when you got there, the lights were off. Panic clawed up through your chest. You’d come to rely upon the chef in the dead of night, and now that he wasn’t here, you were scared to face your demons alone. So, fuck it, you thought. I’ll just go to him.

The men’s quarters were loud. Zoro’s snores cracked through the room, and general grunts and smells and sleepy noises were prevalent, but it didn’t matter. He was there, and he would make you feel okay again.

And once you’d crawled in beside him, and his arms automatically wrapped around you, you knew that there was no going back. You woke up in your own bed, having slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

That night when you met in the kitchen, there was a slight awkwardness that hadn’t been there before.

He cleared his throat. “Did you, uh, did you sleep okay last night?”

“I did. Best I have in a while, really. I’m so sorry if I overstepped or-”

“No! No, I’m sorry for not being here at our usual time-”

“Don’t be stupid!”

“Thank you for-”

“Thank you for-”

You both stopped and he cleared his throat again, cheeks bright red.

“Well, honestly? That’s the best I’ve slept in a while too. So, thanks. And I…” He paused as if building up some courage. “I wondered if you would maybe want to… Do it again sometime. But, you don’t have to and I don’t want you to feel like I’m coming on to you because I know you don’t want, like, romance or anything because of the situation with your ex and-” He began to ramble anxiously, bringing a small smile to your lips.

“Sanji, Sanji, stop! It’s okay! I… I would like that a lot. And so thank you.”

He stopped blabbering and clasped his hands together. “Really?” There was a sparkle in his eyes.

“Really,” you nodded. 

You both built a little routine together. If Sanji wasn’t already in the kitchen, then you’d go to him. Otherwise, you’d meet in the kitchen for your cup of tea, before retiring to his hammock in the men’s quarters. The noises of the sleeping crew around you didn’t bother you at all as you lay entwined in Sanji’s long arms.

One night, you made your way into the kitchen and stopped quietly in the doorway. Sanji had fallen asleep at the table waiting for you. You took in his sleeping figure, the way his sleep shirt clung to his arms and revealed some of his chest. His face was relaxed and peaceful, and god, was it beautiful. Shit, you thought. I’m in way too deep now.

You gently woke him up, and the look in his eyes when he saw your face sent your stomach dropping and mind shortcircuiting. 

“It’s you,” he whispered.

You nodded. “It’s me, Sanj. Let’s go to bed, hmm?”

He had that look on his face again, the one from before when you couldn’t figure it out. But now? Now you knew what it was. It was love. It was adoration. It was ‘you’re my comfort, my safety, you feel like home and I’m at peace’. He stood up and pulled you to his chest, groaning softly as he rested his chin on top of your head. You looked up at him, fondness in your eyes.

“Sanj?” You whispered.

“Yes, my darling YN?” His sleepy voice and eyes were too much. You stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a soft, swift kiss to his lips.

He stiffened, eyes wide. 

“Are you sure?” He whispered. 

You nodded.

His face brightened and burst into a lovesick grin, one hand settling at your waist, the other snaking up to hold the back of your head. He nudged his nose against yours as your lips met, the world melting around you both. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I want to promise something to you right now,” he murmured. “I promise to protect you, to keep you safe, I promise I will never do anything that could possibly hurt you, and I will hunt down anyone who does. Thank you, YN, for showing me what love could be.”

“No, Sanj… Thank you for showing me.”

His eyes were brimming with tears too, but he laughed softly, unable to resist the urge to say:

“No, no. Thank you.” 

And with that, you went to the safety of Sanji’s hammock, entangled with one another as you pressed burning kisses to each others’ skin, his heavenly touch making you forget what life was like without him. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you know this will never end.

[fayesia]

Hello, I hope this doesn't bother you but I had an idea for mike schmidt. Imagine him and the reader are fighting and the reader leaves him. Ever since the reader left him he starts to loose his mind cause he needs the reader to function. Abby notices her brother's situation so she makes it her mission to get him and the reader back together.

Short and Sweet — mike schmidt x reader

a/n: Hiii ofc u r not bothering me! Thank you for the request, congrats you’re the first one so i’m very much appreciative!!! I hope i did justice to your idea, again i’m kind of new to all of this but hopefully you like it :D

“god your so selfish do you even think before you act!!”

You can feel the eyes of people passing by as they return to their cars and pack away their shopping. Except you don’t care, not when this is the third time Mike has forgotten to pick Abby up from school.

“come on at least say something!”

“GODDAMNIT, i’m sorry ok!!”

“well sorry’s not enough Mike! Because when i get home from work and she comes running into my arms having already had a bad day at school it’s on you for making it worse” you exclaim back to him slamming the car door shut.

He does the same, quickly started the engine and driving with rough movements.

“oh yeah, now what? you’re gonna get us both in a car crash, leave your sister alone again-“

“oh my god ENOUGH OK shut up!!”

You fumble with your fingers looking out the window, not in sadness or fear but rather an immense amount of anger. You knew that your emotions would take over your response and you were not going to cry in front of Mike as if what he said effected you.

He parks in the driveway, opens the trunk to collect the groceries and rushes through the front door. You follow after him entering the bedroom and collecting all your things from the closet and bathroom. carrying your duffel bag, you make your way retrieving any items left around the house. Your wallet, keys, shoes and a picture of you and abby are collected as you leave back outside to your car parked across the road.

Sitting down in the drivers seat you stare blankly ahead slowly lowering your head to rest against the steering wheel, soft crys quickly turning into loud sobs that rack through your body. They continue until you reach your apartment, gloomily walking into the place you haven’t been in for months, having spent most days of the week at Mikes house. This place doesn’t feel homely like his though, rather it’s cold and depressing reflecting how you felt right now, which really wasn’t helping.

You’re pulled away from these thoughts as your phone starts ringing. ‘Abby bear’ flashes on your screen as you clear your throat to remove any hints of you crying.

“Hi Abby what’s up?”

“why did you leave” her shaky voice almost has you in tears again.

“what did mike say honey? i’m not leaving forever i just needed to get some stuff from my place”

“he said you were gonna be gone for awhile but would come back. I think he’s lying though his eyes are all red like he’s been crying and he hasn’t moved from your spot on the couch”.

As you listen to her soft voice explain all of this more tears drop down to your chin.

“i’m sorry abby i just think we need a break from each other i don’t know for how long but its something that needed to happen sooner rather than later. I promise i’ll come by and visit you soon, maybe Friday for this weeks movie night?”

“Yayy ok sounds good”

“i have to go now sweetie but make sure you finish all your homework and then you can relax”

“ok byee y/n love u”

“bye abby bear i love you too”

ending the call, you’re left with a gut wrenching feeling spending the rest of the evening crying yourself to sleep on the couch. pitiful? maybe. but you really needed this and now was the right time.

While you spent hours sleeping the pain away, Mike was basically doing the same thing. Abby walked up to him handing him a tub of ice cream “i heard from a movie that eating ice cream makes you less sad after a breakup”

“that’s not true Abby”

her face drops a little at this, Mike quickly trying to cover up his mistake.

“but thank you, why don’t we both eat ice cream and watch a movie”

“ok!!” she settles herself next to him, cuddling into his side with blankets strewn across their laps.

Abby was not very knowledgeable about breakups, only being ten years old herself, and the most she experienced in the romance department was having a crush on the fastest runner in her class.

She did know however that the way Mike was acting was not healthy for him. He spent hours on the couch or in bed, barely eating and if he wasn’t doing that then he would be at work or picking Abby up from school, sometimes they would go and get frozen yogurt which Abby loved the most. She just wished you were there with them like before, when the three of you would go together and spend hours having fun at park.

Abby knew she had to do something, anything she could to get things back to the way they were and she knew just the way to do that.

It had been a week since the break up and neither you or mike seemed to be doing to well in Abby’s opinion but she had a plan set up and tonight she was putting it into action.

Mike received a message from you, his eyes widening as he read, “meet at the park 6pm” a short and simple text. Effective too with the way Mike jumped up running to the closet to pull out his nicest shirt and trousers, and then to the bathroom to shower and prepare him for the night to come.

Abby giggled to herself as she heard the commotion from her brother, taking his phone she started phase two of the plan.

‘bzzz’ you flayed your arm around in an attempt to grab your phone, a yelp coming from your throat as you read the message on the screen. A singular sentence from Mike that read, “meet at the park 6pm”. You expected to read more but that seemed to be it. Short and sweet. You layed out a simple long sleeve top and your favourite pair of jeans, readying yourself for an everything shower.

Soon it was 5:55 and both you and Mike climbed up opposite ends of the hill to the park situated right at the top. There in the middle was a bench and that bench was surrounded by rose petals, with a rose bouquet in the middle, and the bench itself was surrounded by mini lights illuminating the area with a gentle yellow tone similar to the sky’s as the sun set. All of this of course was done courtesy of Abby and you were quick to realise when mikes face was filled with shock when stumbling over one of the yellow lamps, it was clear he was not the one who had set this up. However that didn’t matter to you, the feeling of being swept off your feet into Mikes arms instead was all you were thinking about. He pulled you close to his chest whispering how sorry he was over and over again into your hair as your head rested against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. You silently basked in the feeling of his comfort you dearly missed for that lonesome week the two of you spent apart, not quite ready yet to utter the words ‘i forgive you’ and he knew that after all the hateful words he’d said.

Instead you both sat together on the bench looking out at the setting sun, content with each other presence and no words. As nightfall was falling upon the park Mike grabbed your hand “gotta get back now, Abby will be waiting” he brushed your hand with his thumb for awhile almost hesitant to say something as you waited patiently. “do you want to come?” you break out into a smile, “of course, i always want to go with you”, you reply already dragging him by the arm to the directions of his house.

His house which you knew inside had a very nervous ten year old girl who would see you both walk through the door holding hands and celebrate the most out of all of you.

~unedited~

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 46

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

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Friday, February 5th; 1:50 PM - Manchester Airport.

It's hard to describe the feeling I have about what I'm experiencing right now. Not too long ago, this was a situation I couldn't have imagined. I lead the way ahead of my two instructors as we board the plane that will take off for Barcelona.

“Damn, Barcelona, really!” comments Ingrid. “How can you even think for a second about leaving that incredible city to live here?”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she knows something like that about me. Well, to be honest, it's not a secret anymore, but I had never talked about it directly with Ingrid.

“A place isn't everything,” I shrug.

I smile when I see Shay welcoming passengers in the distance. When she sees me, she seems to recognize me because she smiles back. We’re almost at her station now.

“Hello, Ona. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“It almost didn’t happen,” I half-joked.

“What happened to you?”

I tend to forget the state of my face, but thanks to people’s comments, I’m reminded of it. According to Lucy, everything is healing well, though it will still take some time before it all disappears. At least my aches and pains are less severe, which is already a good thing.

“Oh, um…”

I stop when I feel a familiar warmth settle on the small of my back. I turn around to find Lucy.

“We're blocking the way, baby.”

I blush, still not quite used to this kind of comment in public. Shay smiles at me, not helping to ease my embarrassment.

“She’s right,” she says. “I’ll come to see you at your seat later, hoping you don’t fall asleep first.”

I nod, smiling timidly. It seems like she’s remembered my habits, even with all the passengers she sees every day.

“Have a good flight.”

“Thanks.”

I reach for Lucy’s hand to hold it as we make our way to our numbered seats. I sigh when we’re finally settled after all that waiting. I find myself in the middle because I let Ingrid have the window seat, which she seemed to appreciate. I get the impression she hasn’t flown much in her life.

“Who was that?” she asks me.

“Who? The flight attendant?”

“Yeah. You seem to know each other well.”

“Don’t play the jealous card, Lex,” Ingrid teases.

“I’m not jealous,” she retorts. “It was just a question.”

Since she found out about us, Ingrid hasn’t stopped teasing Lucy. If I understood correctly, she has been teasing her since we first met. It seems like I’ve been tormenting Lucy for much longer than I thought. Now, Ingrid brags about being right and that it was about time she opened her eyes. I gently take Lucy’s hand. My gestures are still very timid, but she does everything to make me comfortable. Not only is this the first time I’ve accepted being seen in public as a couple, but it’s also so strange. This is Lucy we’re talking about—the woman who caught my eye on day one and whom I thought was unattainable. If you’d told me a few months ago that we’d be where we are now, I never would have believed it. Plus, since Feli, I’ve had a big problem with commitment, and since Lucy is my first relationship since her, she’s bearing the brunt of it. I’m lucky that she’s very understanding. She lets me go at my own pace. I’m almost glad we’re still in school because we can’t behave like a couple there. It will give me time to get used to our new relationship. The only problem is that now it’s the weekend, which means we’ll be far from school. I’m a bit anxious about how it will go. Lucy looks at me curiously, reminding me of her earlier question, which makes me smile suddenly.

“Her name’s Shay,” I finally reply. “We became friends the day I came back to Manchester in a bad state. She took care of me and gave me a sleeping pill to help me rest.”

“Oh,” she relaxes, starting to play with my fingers. “I hope you thanked her.”

“Of course,” I giggle.

Lucy has become completely different since we made our relationship official. She’s much more expressive now, and I have to say I appreciate it. I finally know what she’s thinking, especially when it comes to jealousy. Although she doesn’t express it physically, she asks a lot more questions than before. That was the case this morning during our study session when she brought up the topic of Alessia. She noticed that we’ve gotten closer and used our study time as an excuse to find out what we do during those moments and also to gauge how much I like her. I could tell our relationship bothered her, but she didn’t comment on it. I kiss her on the cheek at this thought before letting go of her hand. She slightly frowns at this gesture. We’re about to take off, so I want to prepare for the flight before being limited by the seatbelt later. I take out a pair of earphones and offer them to Lucy, but she doesn’t take them. I sit up to see what she’s doing and realize she’s captivated by Shay, who’s still standing by the doors. She’s quite pretty now that I look at her again. I narrow my eyes and wave my hand in front of Lucy.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“No,” I giggle. “I just wanted you to take the earphones.”

“Oh,” she says, taking them.

“Shall we watch a movie?” I suggest. “I’ll fall asleep if we don’t do anything.”

“We can. Unless you’d rather sleep,” she teases.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I can change my habits for you.”

“That’s sweet,” she smiles.

She leans in to peck my lips. This simple, spontaneous gesture fills my stomach with butterflies. Maybe this weekend will be good for us after all. Her role as a responsible person will finally be out of the picture, and we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves. I was starting to stagnate with all the studying she’s made me do since last night. It was far from fun, but I can’t blame her. She wants me to be ready for my upcoming tests before we leave, and I am now. Thanks to her and the tons of exercises she prepared for me, I’m now unshakeable on my management lessons. It was excessive, but at least I’m free for the weekend. I reach into my bag to pull out my laptop. It gets stuck, prompting me to lean over to unjam it.

“Nice butt, Batlle,” comments Ingrid.

I was about to reply, but a throat clearing interrupts me. I notice Shay when I glance over at Lucy. She’s looking at me with amusement.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you need to buckle up. We’re about to take off.”

I notice the seatbelt sign flashing above my head. It seems like she always has to remind me.

“Oops. I’ll do it right now.”

I grab the seatbelt and fasten it right away… Well, actually, Lucy does it for me when she sees how I was struggling. A small click assures me it’s properly secured. I double-check to make sure the light isn’t flashing anymore, and it’s not.

“Still as talented as ever.”

“Well, you have to be good for something.”

“Hey!”

“You know I’m joking,” I giggle before turning back to Shay. “We didn’t get to chat earlier. How are you, Shay? We can speak casually, right? We seem to be about the same age.”

“Yes, I think we can,” she smiles. “Unfortunately, I can’t stay long. I have to finish my round and then head back to my station. My supervisor would come down on me otherwise.”

“Oh, well, I won’t keep you any longer then.”

"Thank you. Have a good flight," she says as she continues on her way. "Oh, and lots of happiness to you both."

I don't have time to thank her before she's already off to check on the other passengers. Lucy's hand gently slides onto my thigh.

"She's nice," she comments.

"Did you see? She's cool, right?"

"Mmhmm."

I finally manage to get my laptop out of my bag. Lucy removes her hand so I can place it on my lap.

"Do you want to watch with us, Ingrid?" I offer.

"No, I think I'll take a nap instead. But thanks for asking."

"Too bad for you."

The intercom finally announces our takeoff. I plug in my hard drive while my laptop boots up. Meanwhile, Ingrid disconnects from the world with her headphones and the view outside. The plane begins to tremble slightly, a sign that we’re finally taking off. I glance at Lucy, who suddenly seems tense.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

"A little," she admits.

I smile as I notice her grip tighten on the armrest. I didn't know about this fear. I didn't even think she could be afraid of anything. I gently take her hand so she can hold mine instead.

"Hey, look at me."

"Sorry... It's just the takeoff that always gets to me."

Goodness, she's adorable when she blushes. For once, it's not me. I reach for her neck to kiss her. My gesture seems to have its effect, as her muscles relax, and her grip on my hand loosens slightly.

"Don't apologize. It's okay to have fears. You should have just told me."

"I should have, yes. I'm sorry."

She rests her head on my shoulder, gently rubbing her nose against my neck. It's rare for me to be the pillow, but I love this role too. I hand Lucy an earbud after plugging it in. The plane has gone quiet, which will allow us to enjoy the movies in peace. I'm not sure I'll make it through the whole film, but I don't dare move now that Lucy seems to have found her comfortable spot against me.

"We can continue Harry Potter if you want," she suggests as I scroll through my movies.

"Really?"

"Of course. You wanted to see them anyway."

"Cool. Thanks."

I quickly find where we left off last time and start it in full-screen mode.

"Can you sit up for a moment, please?"

"Are you kicking me out?"

"Of course not," I chuckle. "I just want to get comfortable."

She sits up with a groan, giving me the chance to settle into my seat. A sigh of relief escapes her lips when she finds her position against me again. I finally relax too. Just a few more hours and we'll be home.

Friday, February 5th; 11:05 PM - Barcelona Airport.

Getting off the plane is always difficult. Even more so today because of the position we were in with Lucy. Unsurprisingly, we fell asleep along the way. My limbs are seriously stiff now. I can't be the only one, given how Lucy stretches. We wave goodbye to Shay, with whom I managed to have a brief conversation before landing, and then we head down the hallway leading to the airport. Lucy takes the initiative to hold my hand. Unlike us, still struggling to wake up, Ingrid is full of energy and makes it known with her good mood.

"Who's picking us up again?" she asks me.

"Hector, my driver."

"Driver, as in personal driver?"

"Uh... Yeah, you could say that."

"Seriously?" she laughs.

"Hey! Don’t make fun. Hector's super cool, too!"

"You really do get chauffeured everywhere by everyone."

She's not wrong, even if she's joking. Buying a car will be one of my priorities once I leave school. I'll become much more independent. There are advantages to being driven, especially for nights out, but otherwise, it's much better to get around on your own. Speaking of Hector, I smile as we reach the end of the hallway and spot him in the distance.

"Is that him?" Lucy asks, looking around.

"Yeah. Come on!" I say, pulling Lucy along with me.

"Take it easy, we have time now," grumbles Ingrid, struggling to keep up.

My impatience makes me walk quickly. I'm eager to see everyone again. Sam immediately texted me when he heard I was coming back, thanks to my mom. He was so excited that he took charge of organizing everything with Sophia. He didn't seem to know I was bringing company. At least, he didn’t mention it. He'll probably tease me when he finds out about Lucy and me. I've told him countless times that I wasn't ready for a relationship, especially not in Manchester. And now I've done the complete opposite. As we reach Hector, I let go of Lucy's hand to hug him. My embrace seems to surprise him, and it’s no wonder. We're both far from being touchy people, but he responds without question. I've missed them all so much. After all, I haven't seen anyone since Christmas.

"Hey. It's good to see you again. Let me introduce you to Lucy and Ingrid, friends of mine," I say, introducing them.

"Friends, huh," he smiles knowingly, making me blush. "Hello, ladies. It's nice to meet you."

Lucy isn't one to hide, so I tend to forget myself around her. She chuckles and takes my hand again, likely confirming my chauffeur's suspicions.

"Hello. Thank you for picking us up," she says.

"No problem. It's my job, after all," he smiles.

"Did Mom spill the beans?" I ask.

"And then some," he laughs. "Samuel had to push a bit when he found out you were bringing company, but she told him everything."

I'm surprised. Not that Sam insisted, but that my mom talked about it. What's even weirder is that Sam didn't mention anything this morning when we spoke on the phone, even though he knew. I have a feeling I'm in for some teasing later.

"I see..."

"I've never flown before, but shouldn't we grab our bags?" Ingrid interrupts.

I laugh and nod. I was right again. She seemed too amazed for someone who's flown before. Her comment gets us moving toward the baggage carousel. Once we've collected our belongings, we head outside to meet Hector's service car. I sit in the front since neither of the girls wanted the seat. The ride is peaceful. Hector, usually so quiet, surprises me by chatting with my instructors to get to know them. Thanks to that, the trip feels shorter. Upon arrival, I chuckle at Ingrid's exaggerated comments about the sight of my house. Well, it is true that it's luxurious and very impressive from the outside. She won't be disappointed with the interior... Hector drives the car into the property after the gate and garage doors open via the remote controls.

"What kind of world do you actually live in?"

"A miserable one," I murmur.

"I doubt that, given where we are," she retorts.

"Believe me, if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that money isn't everything."

If I had the choice back then, I would have much preferred to live with my dad. He earned less money since my mom is a renowned surgeon and her boyfriend has a good position in the Police, but at least I would have had his love. His death left me feeling empty, which led to my downward spiral. It's not something I would have experienced with my mom. Besides receiving regular transfers, our relationship is unbearable. To think that she even blocked my access when I left home. At least now I manage it again. To be honest, I've never really taken advantage of it. The only times I've used it were for my outings, and now I also use it for my plane tickets. Everything else, I've saved, and I'm glad I did. I've always wanted to leave home early, and I'm closer than ever to that goal given the future that awaits me. We finally get out of the car, and Hector helps us with our bags. We thank him and wish him goodnight before heading inside my house. I tell the girls to be quiet since I'm not sure if Joan is already asleep. I lead the way into my entrance hall, gently rolling my suitcase on the floor. I quickly press the light switch to prevent the girls from bumping into any furniture in the dark.

- Ona!  

I barely have time to turn towards the living room doorway before a little bundle literally jumps into my arms. Looks like we didn’t need to be discreet after all. I hoist him onto my hip, letting him cuddle me as much as he wants.

- Hey, what are you still doing up? I thought you’d be in bed.  

- You should know him by now. He was determined to wait up for you.

My smile widens as I see Sophia standing beside her. I kiss Joan on the head, then move towards Sophia to hug her, ignoring my brother’s complaints between us.

- I missed you guys.  

- We missed you too. And who are these lovely girls with you?  

- This is Lucy and Ingrid. They’re spending the weekend with us.

- Nice to meet you both. It’s great to finally put faces to your names.  

- Are you going to say hi? I whispered to Joan, who was curiously watching them.

He blushed and shook his head, then buried herself into my neck. I rolled my eyes playfully as I moved closer to the girls, which made Joan press even more against me. He’s always been shy around new people, but it seems even worse now.

- Oh come on, Joan. They’re really nice.  

He shook his head again, making Lucy laugh, which in turn brought a smile to my face. I love hearing that sound and seeing her dimples.

- Leave him be. He’ll say hi when he’s more comfortable.  

- I didn’t know you were good with kids.  

- My brother is a special case, I replied to Ingrid, kissing the top of Joan’s head.

I turned to Sophia, who had a blissful smile on her face. It was surprising to see her still here. Normally, she goes home on weekends since my mom and Marcus are either around or take turns. I’m glad we came just for this. I would’ve been annoyed if she had to stay just for us.

- When did my mom and Marcus leave?  

- This afternoon.  

- Oh, you could’ve left and let Hector take care of Joan. He could’ve taken him to the airport.  

- I didn’t want to bother him, and besides, it gave me a chance to see you too.  

- You’re so sweet. How are you?  

- I’m good. And how about you? I’ve never seen your mom so happy since she came back from Manchester. She hasn’t stopped talking about the great day she spent with you... I have to admit, I was a bit surprised, she smiled.  

- Oh, um... Yeah, I replied awkwardly, running a hand through my hair. It was nice. Thanks to Lucy, I said, pointing to her.

- So she’s the lucky one? Your mom couldn’t stop talking about her either, she teased. You were so nervous about coming out.  

- Who’s Lucy? Joan finally popped her head out of my neck.

- That’s her, I said, pointing to Lucy again.  

- Is she your girlfriend? Mom talked about her.

Wow, Lucy must’ve really made an impression if my mom mentioned her so much. I chuckled and nodded. Joan looked at Lucy more intently, tightening her grip around my neck. He seemed a little intimidated.

- You’re still going to sleep with me tonight, right? I don’t want you to leave.  

- I’m not going anywhere. As for sleeping together, we’ll see, I said, glancing briefly at Lucy.

I didn’t want to agree without checking with Lucy first. We’re a couple now, and I’m not sure she’d appreciate me imposing my little brother in our bed.

- Of course she’ll sleep with you, Lucy answered my brother. But only if you share her with me a little too!  

Joan relaxed in my arms. He looked at Lucy for a moment, as if judging her, before nodding with a small smile. Lucy must have that special something that makes everyone like her. At least she’s already managed to win over my brother.

- Hey everyone!  

The front door slammed shut as Mapi burst into the room. Sometimes I wonder if this is really my house or hers. My mom had the idea of giving her a key so she could come by whenever she wanted. Now that I think about it, maybe she did that because she knew we were together for a long time back then.

- I know I’m a little late, but I really wanted to finish my project so I could relax this weekend.

She came over to greet us one by one with a kiss on each cheek. She lingered a bit longer with Ingrid, then surprisingly hugged Lucy before moving on to Sophia and finally Joan and me. She hugged me tightly, a gesture we both understood. We missed each other, especially after these last few emotional weeks. She pulled back with a smile.

- I’m glad to see you doing well. A bit battered, but still in good shape, she teased. And you, my little terror! Not even a hello for me? she said to my little brother.

Joan gave her a kiss, but my best friend pretended not to be convinced. She took him from my arms to give him some tickles. Joan burst out laughing, squirming against her, just as ticklish as I am, if not more. I took advantage of their moment to return to Lucy. She welcomed me by placing her hand on my hip to pull me closer.

- Nice house, she murmured. I’m looking forward to seeing your world.  

- We’ll go up soon. But if you want to know the truth, I prefer your apartment, I admitted.

It’s much cozier than this big house. I immediately felt at home the first time she took me there. Maybe she’s my "home." At that thought, I wrapped my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder, prompting her to wrap her arm around mine.

- You look exhausted.  

- I am.  

- That’s hardly possible. You slept one hours on the plane, little sleepyhead.  

- You did too, remember?  

- I never said I was tired.

I buried my head in her neck, savoring this simple moment. Maybe I’ll actually be able to relax this weekend. I’m starting to think I can.

- Can we go to bed now? I suggested.  

- Great idea, Mapi replied. The little rascal should already be in bed anyway, it’s getting late.  

- I’m not a rascal, Joan grumbled.

Mortified, my little brother hid in Mapi as we all laughed. The sight warmed my heart. Joan is so shy that he rarely gets close to adults, but my best friend is one of the few exceptions. He tends to interact with her the same way she does with me. I hope he’ll accept Lucy in the same way over time. Nothing would make me happier.

You’re right, he’s got sleepy eyes, I finally said.

He's far past her bedtime. Usually, he goes to bed around ten p.m. on weekends, and now it’s already past midnight.

"Are you two sharing a room?" I asked Mapi and Ingrid.

They exchanged a quick glance before Ingrid shrugged. It seems things aren't going so well between them. Lucy was right when she said there would be some tension at the beginning.

"I don't mind... Unless it bothers you?" Mapi asked timidly.

"No. We can sleep together."

"Cool. Can I take any room, Onita?"

"Yes, of course."

"Great, see you in a bit then. Should I put Joan in your room?"

I looked at her, now dozing off in Mapi's arms. It seems the wait wore her out.

"Yes, you can."

We wished them goodnight as the girls disappeared up the stairs. I finally turned to Sophia.

"Thanks for staying to watch her. You should head home now. They must be waiting for you."

"You know everyone must be asleep by now. How are you doing? I didn't want to bring it up in front of Joan, but you're pretty banged up."

"I’ve been through worse," I shrugged. "And I had a good nurse, so I’m okay," I replied, leaning closer to Lucy.

"I see," she smiled. "I’m happy for you... for both of you, actually."

"Thanks, Sophia... Thanks for everything."

"It’s nothing. Your mom asked me to stay available this weekend, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything," she said.

I nodded, thanking her. I don't like making her come back on weekends, but knowing the girls, we'll probably go out tomorrow night, so the offer is appreciated.

"Goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight," Lucy and I replied in unison.

We waited for her to leave before heading up the stairs with our suitcases. I chuckled as I heard Lucy grumbling behind me. It was far from easy, especially since I forgot to turn on the downstairs light. It must be even harder for her since she can’t see anything. I turned on the light once we reached the top and immediately went to help her. I guided her to my room, where a small lamp was already on. Joan was fast asleep in the middle of my bed. I was surprised to also find Ingrid there. I quickly understood her presence when I heard a noise coming from my closet.

"Ouch!"

"What are you looking for, Maps?" I asked, exasperated, while setting my suitcase down beside the closet.

"Ah, there you are! I can’t find Joan's pajamas," she replied.

"Maybe because they’re in his room?" I suggested.

"I told you so," Ingrid said.

"No, I’m pretty sure you always kept them here," she argued.

"And what do you think his room is for?" I rolled my eyes. "Never mind, I’ll handle it now that I’m here."

"Oh well... I’ll just grab my own pajamas then."

She dove back into my closet. My house is practically her second home, so she has plenty of clothes here. Most of them have been here since our relationship ended. She never bothered to take them back. I groaned as she dropped a pile of clothes at least three times. The girls stifled their laughter behind me. I glanced at the mess she made. She finally managed to pull out a pj set from the now-disheveled pile.

"Got it!" she announced, returning to us. "Sorry for the mess and, uh... the chaos," she grimaced, looking back. "You don’t mind cleaning it up, do you?"

"Get out before I change my mind."

"Thanks," she said nervously.

"Don’t forget your toothbrush," I teased.

"Oh yeah! I’ll be right back."

I held back a laugh as she almost ran to my bathroom. I looked at Lucy, who seemed just as amused. We were probably thinking the same thing. Mapi reappeared with her toothbrush and a tube of makeup remover.

"Well, goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight."

As soon as the door closed behind Ingrid and Mapi, we burst out laughing.

"Oh my God! I’ve never seen her like that before."

She was so stressed; it’s not like her. I wonder why. Ingrid has proven to me many times that she’s not a difficult person. She’s very kind and even supported my relationship with Lucy before it even began.

"I don’t know how Ingrid will manage to stay so calm. Mapi’s definitely going to drive her crazy."

"You think so? Poor thing."

"Yeah," she smiled. "But don’t worry, Ingrid will know how to handle her. Still, I’m a little jealous of Mapi."

"Oh yeah? Why’s that?"

"How come she has so many things in your room?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that," I grimaced. "Well, she practically lived here when I came back, so she kind of took over my room. Let’s just say she doesn’t get along with her parents, so my house has always been her refuge. But she has an apartment now, so she could take them back."

"Relax," she laughed. "I wasn’t asking for that. It was just a question."

"Sorry," I replied, embarrassed.

"Can I take a look around?" she changed the subject.

"Of course, go ahead."

With a smile on her lips and a curious look, she began exploring my room. It’s quite large and divided into three areas. There’s my closet on the left, my bed in the middle, and a small sitting area on the right. I call it that because there’s a small sofa and a little table in front of my TV, which is mounted on the wall. The colors are neutral, with my personal touch all around. I painted the walls back in the day. My mom’s reaction was priceless the first time she saw it.

"It’s beautiful," she murmured.

"I had my teenage rebellion a bit late."

She chuckled as she approached the wall where the entrance door is. A massive forest is painted across the entire length. I’ve always loved nature. She looked up at the ceiling, where I had painted different shades of blue and purple with small white spots for the stars. My room is really like my sanctuary, my private domain. Few people have had the chance to see it.

"You did a great job. The result is stunning. You love nature?" she asked, making me nod. "Maybe we could go hiking or camping one day."

"Why not," I replied, smiling at the thought.

The bubble that had formed between us was suddenly burst by a noise at the door, followed by it opening to reveal Mapi. She looked even more stressed than before.

"Sorry to bother you again. I-I forgot the cotton pads."

"There are some in the drawers of every bathroom, Mapi," I said, raising an eyebrow.

She groans in frustration and then sighs, running a hand over her face. She really seems at her wit's end.

"Relax, Mapi."

"I’d like to see you try! You were in my shoes not too long ago, remember? Seriously, girls, I don’t know what to do. She’s so cold towards me. It feels like she hates me. What should I do?"

"Maybe it's because she does hate you," Lucy murmurs.

"But why!? I haven’t done anything wrong!"

"You're avoiding your relationship. It’s as simple as that. Ingrid doesn’t like being kept waiting. Own up to your feelings, and maybe she’ll change her behavior."

"I was just trying to do things right," Mapi sighs. "I wasn’t avoiding her… I couldn’t exactly start our relationship long-distance!"

"Really?" Lucy challenges. "I think you’re just being a coward. Do I need to remind you that Ingrid is my best friend? If you hurt her, you’ll have serious problems with me, no matter how much you supported me with Ona."

I had never seen Lucy so serious about Ingrid before. I knew they were close, but I never realized how deep their bond went.

"T-That’s the last thing I want... I’m just trying to handle this situation and do things right, I promise."

"You’re not handling anything right now. It’s easy to send sweet messages and then run away. If you want to prove that you’re ready to move forward, then own up to your words and kiss her."

I bite my lip, seeing Mapi's state. She clearly wasn’t expecting Lucy to react this way. Neither was I, honestly. It’s rare for her to swear or lose her temper. It’s almost... sexy. Mapi can only manage a nod.

"Th-Thanks. Good night."

She leaves as quickly as she came. She’s probably even more shaken up after what Lucy just said.

"Don’t you think you went a little hard on her?" I giggle.

"She just needed a push. Trust me, she needed it," she says, making me laugh.

She pulls me close when I start to move toward her, placing her hands on my cheeks. I close my eyes to enjoy the soft caress of her thumbs. She takes advantage of my slightly parted lips to kiss me tenderly. The kiss deepens quickly as her hand slides up to my neck under my hair. Her touch and the way her tongue meets mine make me feel breathless, like I’m losing my footing.

"Ona?" Joan whimpers.

I jump, accidentally biting Lucy’s tongue in the process. She groans in pain, pulling back. I bite my lip now, seeing her bring her hand to her mouth.

"Damn, Luce ! Are you okay?!"

"It hurtsh," she lisps.

Under different circumstances, I might have laughed, but right now, it’s just embarrassing. Her lisp is kind of cute, though, making me stifle a laugh.

"I’m sorry, Luce... Let me see."

This time, I can’t hold back my laughter when she actually sticks out her tongue to show me.

"Stop laughing! It'sh not funny!"

"Sorry. Please, show me again."

"No, you'll laugh again."

"Ona," Joan calls again.

"I’m coming, Joan."

"Take care of him. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, you don’t have to ask. Make yourself at home. I’ll grab Joan’s pajamas from his room and be right back."

I kiss her cheek and go to get Joan’s pajamas and toothbrush. At least, that was the plan until I couldn’t find the toothbrush anywhere in the bathroom. Giving up on the search, I head back to my room. I stop at the door when I see Lucy sitting on the edge of my bed, deep in conversation with my little brother. It’s such an adorable scene that I hesitate to interrupt. But then Lucy notices me. She smiles warmly and motions for me to join them by holding out her hand. I walk over to find Joan wide awake. He was fast asleep just fifteen minutes ago. I hope he’ll fall asleep quickly again.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, we were just talking," Lucy answers, wrapping her arm around me.

"Cool... Hey, Joan, where’s your toothbrush?"

He timidly points to my bathroom. I really did search for it for nothing.

"Go brush your teeth."

"But—"

"No buts. Go on!"

It’s always a battle over this, but I’m glad he doesn’t put up much of a fight tonight. He trudges off to my bathroom, dragging his feet.

"He’s a lot like you," Lucy teases, laughing.

"Hey!" I say, playfully hitting her.

She laughs, pulling me between her legs. I instinctively place my hands on her shoulders to keep from falling on her.

"How’s your tongue?"

"It’s better. I brushed my teeth to ease the pain."

"I’m really sorry. That was so embarrassing," I say, blushing.

"It’s okay," she laughs. "It’s not your fault. These things happen," she says, resting her head on my chest.

She sighs, hugging me tightly. She must be as tired as I am. I smile, seeing her so peaceful against me.

"I’m glad you came back home with me..."

"Me too."

"You make me feel at ease wherever you are."

She lifts her head to smile at me tenderly.

"We’re going to do things right. I promise."

I nod eagerly. I know we will. As long as she’s by my side, I feel invincible.

"I’m looking forward to tomorrow. You’ll finally meet Samuel. I’m sure you’ll like him."

"I’m sure I will."

"Ona?" Joan interrupts us.

I reluctantly pull away from Lucy to see my little brother standing timidly in the bathroom doorway. I go to him and pick him up. Meanwhile, Lucy has gotten up to grab her things from her suitcase. I quickly change Joan so he can get under the covers. I ask him to choose a side instead of settling in the middle as he does when we sleep with Mapi. Joan listens without fuss. Since Lucy isn’t done yet, I decide to change in the room to save time, picking out a long t-shirt and shorts from my closet.

"I really like your new girlfriend," Joan tells me. "She's really nice."

"Really? I'm glad to hear that."

I sit on the bed to take off my shoes and socks, listening to my brother talk about Lucy. Apparently, they introduced themselves and had a little chat. I'm really happy that Lucy took the first step. It means a lot to me. I take off my pants and replace them with shorts, folding the pants neatly afterward. I've always made sure to keep my room tidy without my mom having to tell me. I finish by taking off my top, and of course, that's when Lucy comes out of the bathroom. She pauses for a moment, finding me in my bra. I quickly cover myself with my pajama top, which makes her smile.

"I've seen you in worse situations than this, you know."

"That was different," I mumble. "I'm going to brush my teeth, I'll be right back."

"Aren't you going to take a shower?"

I shiver as her fingers brush against my bare hip when I pass by her. I'm sure she did it on purpose. I clutch my t-shirt a little tighter in front of me.

"Tomorrow morning… I'm too tired now," I manage to say.

"Alright, hurry up then. I'll be waiting."

I leave her space and lock myself in the bathroom, taking a deep breath. If she wanted to kill me, she almost succeeded. I quickly change, remove my makeup, and brush my teeth. I fix my hair in the mirror and catch my breath. I smile at myself in the mirror to gather some courage, but I quickly lose it when I see how ridiculous I look. I suddenly understand Mapi's nervousness, even though our situations are different. I give myself a little pep talk before leaving the bathroom. The first thing I see is Joan, peacefully asleep again. Lucy is lying on the opposite side, tapping on her phone. I slip into bed between the two of them, relieved that the bed is big enough to comfortably fit all three of us. I wouldn't have allowed Joan to stay if we were cramped like sardines. I observe Lucy, who smiles at me. I barely have time to notice she was on Instagram before she closes the app and locks her phone. She sets it on the nightstand and lies down to face me. She slides her hand under the pillow to touch mine. Her smile widens softly as her other hand reaches for my face to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Is everything okay?" she murmurs.

"Why wouldn't it be…? Do you think I'm not okay?"

She laughs softly, running her hand along my back, pulling me closer.

"No. I just think you're stressed and distracted. Are you trying to compete with Mapi?"

I blush, lowering my head. She kisses my forehead. Why am I feeling this way? It's just Lucy in front of me, the one who knows everything about me and who helped me open up to the world again in just four months.

"I'm sorry…"

"Was it my gesture that bothered you?"

She moves her hand to my hip, her eyes following the movement under the blanket. I was about to speak, but she interrupts me.

"You know," she begins, "I know it's hard for you to let yourself go with me."

"That's not it," I interrupt her.

I take a deep breath before lifting my head to face her. My heart aches when I see the look on her face. It can't be easy for her to be in a relationship with someone like me.

"I'm sorry you're bearing the brunt of my psycho ex. You're not the problem; you're the solution, I promise. Just give me some time to adjust to all this… It's hard to open up in a relationship, especially with you. You can read me better than anyone, and it's kind of unsettling."

She chuckles softly, continuing to stroke my hip. I force myself to stay calm to prove my point.

"Are you sure about that? That's not the impression you're giving me. Since we made our relationship official, you tense up at the slightest touch. It wasn't like that before."

"That's because our relationship has evolved, and I don't know what you expect from me. I don't really know how to explain it…" I murmur.

"Hey," she says, lifting my chin with her fingers. "I don't expect anything specific. I just want us to regain the connection we had before. The rest will come naturally, without forcing things."

I sigh in relief, nodding. Why was I so worried? Lucy is perfect with me. I should have talked to her about it right away. She always has the right words to reassure me.

"The only thing I ask is that you don't push me away," she continues. "I'm here for you, and I want to help you as best as I can."

"I would never make that mistake, Lucy… I know you're the only one I need. One day, you'll know everything… if you want to, of course."

"I do. Everything about you interests me," she says before kissing my forehead. "Don't hesitate to talk to me if you ever feel like it."

Once again, I nod as I snuggle closer to her. Her arms automatically tighten around me. They make me feel like I have a shield protecting me from everything around us. Some time passes before she breaks the silence with a throat clearing.

"And, um… I don't know if this needs to be said, but you know I would never raise a hand against you, right?"

"Of course," I reply with a smile hidden from her eyes. "I trust you more than anyone, Luce."

She sighs heavily, letting the air brush through my hair. She kisses the top of my head again, holding me even closer.

"Good," she murmurs. "All I care about is that you find peace within yourself."

I close my eyes, seeking as much contact with her as possible. I want to feel normal again, too. My fears and nightmares are starting to weigh on me more and more, but I have no doubt that everything will be resolved in the coming months. I'm not alone anymore. A smile crosses my face when she starts exploring my hip again with a gentle touch. If I don't think about anything, I can finally enjoy it.

"I'll get there with you by my side… I promise. But… don't take this the wrong way, but I was dreading this weekend…" I admit. "I was afraid you'd expect too much from me."

A genuine laugh escapes her lips, though she softens it, given our surroundings. I almost forget about my sister, who is peacefully sleeping behind my back.

"You idiot. Did you really think I was going to jump on you or something?"

Now that she says it like that, I feel really ridiculous for having thought such a thing. She pulls away from me, forcing me to look at her. Embarrassment washes over me when I see her teasing smile.

"S-sorry," I stammer.

"Ridiculous," she gently teases me again. "We have all the time in the world for that kind of thing; you don't have to worry about it."

"You're right, sorry," I say, my cheeks still flushed. "It's just that I don't want to deprive you either."

"You're not depriving me of anything. Having you close to me is all that matters. You don't have to worry about that. I'll make you enjoy all this again, and most importantly, I'll always keep you safe."

"I already feel safe, Luce. Why do you think I slept so well when we first started sleeping together…?"

"I messed things up more than I thought… Your nightmares have come back, haven't they?"

"You didn't mess anything up. We wouldn't be here otherwise. Stop blaming yourself for something I've already forgiven you for. And yes, my nightmares have come back, but it will get better. All we need to do now is move forward."

"You're right. We'll take it slow. We've already overcome so much, so we'll manage to live as a couple, I promise you."

I nod, completely agreeing with that.

"Okay, it's time to sleep now…"

She turns for a moment to turn off the light and then pulls me back into her arms. I find my position easily, without feeling any discomfort. I close my eyes, desperately clinging to her t-shirt. This conversation has done me good. I know everything will be okay now. She doesn't realize how much I need her. I slip my leg between hers to get as close as possible.

"Can I?" she asks, slowly sliding her hand under my tank top to touch the bare skin of my back.

I smile and nod. I enjoy her touch. She's probably the only person I allow to do so much, even if she doesn't realize it yet. I've been waiting so long for this moment when she'd finally lower her barriers too, and it's finally happening. Her warm hand returns to caress my spine with the tips of her fingers. I lift my head to try and find her lips in the dark.

"Goodnight, my love," she murmurs against my lips.

That nickname makes my stomach flutter. It throws me off so much that all I can manage is a mumbled goodnight into her chest before falling asleep peacefully.

[void-wolfie]

Daddy Issues

summary: you sneak in through Sam's window one night to escape the rain and issues at home.

pairing: Samantha Carpenter x fem!Reader

tw: angst/fluff, mentions of abuse and alcohol

words: 1.37k

a/n: there was a different fic I was going to post, but I liked this one better

**if mentions of abuse are a trigger for you, I recommend not reading (doesn't go in-depth, but it is talked about)

You tapped on the window, hoping she was still awake. The fog coating the glass and the rain splattering your face made it difficult to see in. Just as you were about to give up, the window slid open and a pair of arms pulled you in.

"What are you doing here?" Her face was impassive, you couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Uh, I'm sorry," you looked around the room, down at your feet, just anywhere to avoid eye contact, "I just- can I crash here for the night?"

She gave you a puzzled look.

"Your mom doesn't even have to know I'm here, I'll-"

"What happened to your face?" Within seconds she was in your space, grabbing your chin to better see your face in the dim lighting.

Oh. That.

"Uh, nothing. I got into a fight after school,"

It was a blatant lie, one she could see right through, "With who?"

"It doesn't matter,"

"y/n-"

"Sam, please."

She sighed, looking over at the door as if contemplating her options. If her mom ever knew you were here... yikes. But it was you, she'd do anything for you.

"Take off your hoodie, you're soaked."

You were soaked head to toe from the storm outside, having to walk here on foot wasn't exactly fun in the pouring rain, but you weren't sure where else to go.

You did as you were told, leaving you in just your sports bra and jeans. If you hadn't been facing the other way you might've caught the small glance Sam sent your way. The sight of you shirtless sent her thoughts running wild, she had to remind herself friends don't think those things about each other.

Those thoughts quickly left as she saw the state of you, though. Your sides were riddled with purple and yellow bruises. Most of them were obviously fresh, and she'd hate to see how they'd look tomorrow.

By the time you had it off and turned back around, she was handing you a dry pair of shorts and one of her hoodies.

You mumbled a thank you before going to get changed in the little bathroom connected to her room. The hoodie was a little big on you, but you could care less. It was warm, dry, and even smelt like her. The idea of you wearing something hers gave you butterflies.

You opened the little bathroom door and before you could even make it to the doorway, she pushed you back. She picked you up and sat you down on the countertop. She grabbed the little first aid kit she kept from under the sink and started cleaning the cuts on your face.

The one on your lip wasn't too bad, it'd probably hurt like a bitch in the morning though. The one across your eyebrow was worse. The area around it was already black and blue and you were lucky you didn't need stitches.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"Don't move." She mumbled, "This might sting."

She poured antiseptic into the cut, and it took everything in you not to yell out in pain. You squeezed the counter and hissed, trying to hold yourself together, even if it was only for her.

“‘Might sting’ my ass," you muttered. You saw Sam smile at the comment, and all those butterflies from earlier flooding back.

After she was done cleaning you up, she put the kit away and led you back into her room, nudging you toward the bed.

"In."

"You don't have to-"

"I'm not letting you sleep on the damn floor. Now in."

You huffed. When Sam made up her mind, there was almost always no changing it.

You crawled under the covers and to the far edge of the bed, putting as much distance between you and Sam as possible. It's not that you didn't want to be around her, you very much did want to be around her. You just didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

Sam turned off the lights as she crawled under the covers, the only light left in the room coming from the nightlight in the corner. Still plugged in for those nights Tara would have nightmares and crawl in next to Sam.

"You gonna tell me who did that to you? Without the lies this time."

"Santa Claus," you deadpanned.

"I’m being serious."

"How do you know I'm not? That man breaks into homes for a living and people think it's cute-"

"y/n." She cut off your rambling. Even in the dark room, you could make out the deadly look on her face.

"Do we really have to talk about it?"

"Yes."

She was determined. You could see it in her eyes. If you didn't tell her now, she'd just find some way to pull it out of you tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, so on and so forth.

"My dad."

“Your dad did this to you?”

You nodded, playing with the strings on her hoodie to avoid making eye contact. Rolling the string up, unrolling it. Rolling it up, unrolling it. Repeat.

"Why?"

"He caught me trying to steal his bottle of Jack,"

"He pummeled you over alcohol?" If the look on her face was any indication, she was pissed. Nothing could’ve justified the beating you took, but all of this over a bottle of Jack. It was ridiculous.

She knew your relationship with your father was rocky, borderline abusive, but she had no idea how bad it truly was, you made sure to hide that from her.

You shrugged, "Can we stop talking about it now, please."

"Only if you promise to go get that checked out by the school nurse in the morning," she said, referring to the cuts on your face.

"And play 20 questions with Nurse Ratched, pass."

"y/n-"

"Sam, please."

You seemed to be saying that a lot tonight, and you weren’t really a fan. Begging wasn’t your style, not even for Sam. But you didn’t need to draw more attention to yourself than necessary.

Your mother died when you were little, car accident. Or, at least, that’s what your father tells you. If people start asking questions, well you had a feeling it would only get the authorities involved and you didn’t want that. Not when all they would do is take you away, put you in some foster facility, and you’d never see Sam or any of your other friends ever again.

Something in her resolve cracked. She let it go. Whether just for now, or for good you had no clue, but you'd take the win.

"You’re gonna fall off the bed sleeping like that." She switched the subject, referring to how you were perched on the edge of the mattress.

"Yeah, well, how do you propose I sleep miss know-it-all?"

She rolled her eyes, though, you could see a hint of a smile on the corners of her lips, "Get your scrawny ass over here, smartass,"

"Jeez, Sam, I don't know how I feel about you looking at my ass-"

She knew you weren't gonna move so she settled on moving you herself instead. She grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in, effectively cutting off whatever sarcastic retort you had lined up.

If your heart beat any faster, you were sure her mom could hear it from across the house.

Her arms were wrapped around you securely with your legs tangled in between hers. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel safe. Safer than you'd felt in your own house recently, maybe even in years.

"Now go to sleep, we have class in the morning and it's already late enough."

Part of you wanted to wiggle out of her arms and go back to sleeping on the edge of the bed. But the other part of you was comfortable. Against your better judgment, you wrapped your arms around her and snuggled into her chest.

You were asleep in minutes. Sam could feel your erratic heartbeat finally slow, beating to the same rhythm as hers. She placed a light kiss to the top of your head before falling asleep herself, making sure to hold you tight all night.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

How would Cooper (both pre and post war) feel about sex toys? As far as using them with his partner and in general. I have a pretty hard time cumming without one and as much fun as getting fucked six ways from Sunday in the wasteland by the Ghoul with just his hat and a prayer sounds, I know I'd need at least a bullet vibrator to help get me along.

Innocent Anon

can wait for some of that lactation kink stuff😘

Prewar!Cooper Howard is a BIG fan of sex toys. His top priority is to make his partner feel as good as possible, and if toys are gonna help him do that, he's more than happy to incorporate them. Very eager, even. He's also just open to sexual exploration in general, so if there's any particular goodies you want to try out, he's more than accommodating.

You can't tell me he and Barb didn't have a big chest of them in their bedroom closet at one time. She strikes me as someone who might also need an extra hand to get where she's going, and Cooper is a great partner for exactly that; he's generous and patient in bed, and he's stubborn, to boot. If you're capable of orgasm, he's obsessed with getting you there again and again, watching you fall apart over and over until you're begging him for mercy.

The chest definitely disappears after the divorce; some toys can be sanitized efficiently enough to use between multiple partners, but Barb thinks that idea is gross, and Cooper gets sad thinking about doing so. As strange as it may seem, some of the things in there have a lot of memories attached to them, and he can't see himself being able to really separate them. Even going through the thing when he's in the process of packing his bags is painful for him, seeing what is basically a big snapshot of the intimate side of their years-long marriage laid out in front of him.

The sex swing they spent hours trying to figure out how to put up, eventually giving up and collapsing onto their bed in a giggling pile of limbs. The vibrator that had made her cum so hard that she'd actually collapsed, scaring the hell out of him. Even the cheapo little pair of handcuffs they'd played around with on their honeymoon...he can't imagine using any of these things with anyone else, but he also doesn't want them anymore and can't make himself get rid of them. So, when he moves out of their house, he leaves the box behind. Eventually Barb throws the whole thing out, sick of the mournful feeling it stirs up in her every time she lays eyes on it.

For a while, he has no interest in sex toys of any kind. Save for the occasional stress relief jerk off in the shower, his libido is fairly dormant until he meets you. Even then, you two are already sleeping together before the topic of toys comes up.

You're less embarrassed to be in the sex shop he takes you to, a dinky little place a county or two over, than you thought you'd be, both Cooper's presence and the warm-but-professional way the woman at the counter greets you easing your tension; you've been in places like this, but never to just browse and take things in. However, that tension quickly increases again as you realize that he's not really browsing; he's just watching you browse, taking in your reaction to all these new things, some of which you've heard of, but nowhere near all. When the two of you enter the section with all the bondage gear and such, your face feels like you could fry an egg on it, especially when he catches you eyeballing a particular contraption, what looked on the box to be a bar that you strapped between your partner's ankles.

"You're making me nervous watching me like that!" you giggle, low and quiet.

"Can't help it, sweetheart. You just look so adorable all worked up like this." he responds, eyes raking up and down your body almost absentmindedly, like it's a completely normal part of his day. It makes you shiver. "Plus, this place is giving me ideas."

That makes you laugh a little too loudly in the small space, and he quickly silences you with a kiss, playfully chastising you when he pulls away. Eventually, the two of you settle on a couple things to try out, horsing around as you wait for the woman to ring you up.

That night, he fits the leather cuffs around your ankles and pops the bit of metal (a "spreader bar", he calls it) between your feet, a predatory glint in his eye before he overstimulates you to the point of tears and begging, all before he's even removed his clothes. The two of you eagerly plan another trip to the same shop.

The Ghoul hasn't thought about such things in years, but all sorts of memories get knocked loose once he lets himself start to get close to you. He's still infected with the same sense of pride when it comes to wanting to make you come completely undone, and him not being able to make you cum by himself frustrates you both; you because you feel "difficult" and you're embarrassed, him because there's no immediately available solution most of the time. He may be rough around the edges these days, but he's not gonna get his and leave you hanging, so it puts a bit of a damper on him wanting to fool around at first.

He's determined to fix it.

Silicon and plastics hold up like garbage against time and UV radiation, though, so many of the pre-war sex toys you do come across (which is rare, as many have simply decomposed into nothing recognizable) just crumble in your hands when you touch them.

But it's not like the apocalypse stops people from wanting to be freaky, so it's not like there would be no demand for such things. I am beyond obsessed with the idea of there being some sort of vendor who jerryrigs sex toys out of wasteland junk. Armor repurposed into kink gear. Brahmin leather floggers and whips. Bullet vibrators crafted out of actual spent shells, just reshaped a bit and crammed with rudimentary electronics.

That last one really captures the attention of both of you. Something like that will probably set you back more caps than is reasonable, but you're pretty desperate to cum at this point, and Cooper is almost equally desperate to see you do so. He doesn't like it, usually more than happy to haggle or walk away when he knows he's being played, but he pays for the thing before you can, rolling his eyes when you protest that you can pay for things yourself. It's mostly a bluff, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a little thrill watching him spend so much money on something to make you feel good.

The thing is prone to overheating after a certain point, which you discover after a rather painful labial burn, but Cooper tinkers with it a bit afterwards, and by the time you've healed enough to get back up on the horse, he thinks he's figured out how to make you cum without risking injuring you. It really ratchets up the growth of the connection between you two, and you feel better about yourself in terms of your comfort as an intimate partner to him.

For the last few hundred years he hasn't really bothered to step foot into any of the sex shops that manage to still stand, but when the two of you come across the shabby face of one, nestled between two other perilously decrepit buildings, he can't hide his amusement when you ask what exactly it is. After poking around inside for a minute to check for traps, he drags you inside.

Most things inside are broken, too degraded to even think about using, or just outright gone, but there isn't nothing. In fact, an incredibly bemused chuckle leaves him as he looks inside a yellowed old package on one of the few intact shelves, and it draws your attention away from the pile of junk you'd been picking through. The incredibly lusty way he's eyeballing you as you saddle up beside him has you curious, and you chuckle when he holds the thing out to you and you see the contents fully: glass plugs, a rather slender, but intact set of three nestled among the decaying folds of paper inside.

"Do you know where they go?" he asks.

You sort of jiggle your head back and forth and shrug in uncertainty; you're fairly sure you can guess where the wide-based things go, but you're a little too embarrassed to say it out loud with those intense eyes of his burning into you.

"Do you wanna find out?"

You never thought you'd be so grateful for the existence of cooking oil as you are that night, completely naked and spread out on your back as the old cowboy sat beside you slowly works one, then two of his long, nimble fingers into your taut little hole. It's a strange feeling, his flesh rough, but it's not unpleasant. In fact, by the time he's fucking you smoothly with those fingers, his free hand playing with your clit, you're moaning openly. The sound and sight of you like this obviously gets him going, and you can see how hard he is as he produces the smallest of the plugs, coating both it and you in another generous squirt of oil before gently massaging the end against you.

The plug is different from his fingers, much cooler and without the mild give that his flesh has, almost uncomfortable at first as he slowly works it inside. He checks in with you frequently, both aroused and concerned by the gasps and huffs you let out as he slowly, slowly works the thing inside you to the base.

You're a bit embarrassed at how whiny you are as you beg him to fuck you properly once he's begun to slowly slide the thing in and out, spoiled by months of the two of you having your little vibrating friend around and knowing it'll make an appearance soon. You're not even sure where he keeps the thing, but it always shows up right when you need it. However, he doesn't remove the plug, simply pushes his cock into your soaking cunt, both of you moaning loudly at the tight squeeze. The pressure in your ass adds to the pressure of him stretching your pussy, and it takes no time at all for both of you to cum when he finally touches the little bullet vibe to your clit. Afterwards, he teases you for being such an anal slut.

"Well, if you liked it that much, I may have something you'll like more..."