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and-claudia · 2 days ago

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Bound by Winter (Spencer Agnew x fem! Reader) Part 3

Word Count: 5800+

Warnings: Language, slow burn, there are also switches from first person to third person point of views to give a glimpse of what happening in Spencer's head some

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Snow blanketed the ledges of Caerwatch Keep in thick folds, muting the sound of boots on stone. Inside the war hall, the hearth blazed high, but the air remained taut—sharp with steel and strategy.

It had been a week since the wedding. A week of being the new Lady Agnew.

Spencer and I had not yet shared a bed. He continued to sleep in the same chair that first night. Truth be told, I don’t think either of us were ready to address it. Luckily, though he silences between us were no longer icy, just... tentative. Like a truce that hadn’t quite become trust.

My days were filled with the dull routines of acclimating to northern customs: bitter root soups, bone-chilling baths, and silent corridors. But the lull didn’t last. By the seventh morning, horns had sounded.

War had arrived at the doorstep.

Soon, I found myself sat at a long oaken table beside Spencer—unusual for a lady, and doubly so for a southern one. Still, no one had asked me to leave.

Across the table stood Ian Hecox, Lord Commander of the Northern Watch—grim-eyed, solid as a fortress. He’d come down from the Frostmark Barracks with a hundred men and two thousand more at his back. His tone was clipped, cold.

Thankfully, before the meeting, Spencer had done me the courtesy of giving me a rundown of who would be in attendance at this meeting.

“We cannot hold the Breakspire Pass if we split forces. We need one direct push north of the River Graves.”

“And leave the village of Timbermere exposed?” Lady Courtney Miller leaned in, golden hair braided back in thick rows, her eyes sharp. “If we lose Timbermere, we lose the grain lines. Then we’re marching on empty bellies.”

“Then we bleed them dry now,” Ian said. “We lure the southern forces into the ice fields before they’re ready.”

The room argued—force against caution, honor against advantage.

I listened quietly until a map was rolled out, inked with trade routes and terrain lines. My gaze flicked to the forest roads behind Caerwatch. How had no one mentioned them yet?

“What about using the Hollow Creek path?” I said suddenly, voice clear over the low rumble of men’s voices. “It’s narrow, but if we reinforce it and draw the enemy west—away from Timbermere—we can strike from two sides.”

The room fell into stunned silence. All eyes turned to me.

Spencer stared too, mouth slightly open. Even Ian's brow quirked in surprise.

Lady Courtney stepped forward, curious. “That’s a clever strategy. Hollow Creek’s a beast to maneuver—but if we can trap them in the bend…”

Ian looked toward Spencer. “Your wife’s clever. Why didn’t you mention she was trained in tactics?”

Spencer blinked. “She… wasn’t.”

I tried to hide the slight smile that threatened to show at surprising the men in the room.

The rest of the meeting went as smoothly as a war preparation meeting could go. Details of which men would and wouldn’t go. When they would leave. Would it be better to travel by foot or horseback? And lastly, who would lead the attack? That is when my ears perked back up.

“I will lead my men, myself, thank you,” Spencer said the Ian, who simply nodded.

It was odd. The way my heart clenched upon hearing those words. Sure, he was my husband, but that word felt more like just another title for him. There was no love behind it. Just the title. Sure, the two of us had grown somewhat closer. Not lovers, or even friends, but there was something there… I think.

The meeting concluded, and it was just about time for dinner. Spencer had extended an invitation for the others to join, which they obviously accepted.

“May I?” Spencer asked, offering me his arm, clearly a formality in front of our guest.

Before I was able to answer or take his arm, Lady Courtney stepped between us.

“Actually, I am going to escort your wife to dinner, I have much to discuss with her.” She said, linking my arm with hers.

“Sure, go right ahead, steal my wife,” Spencer said, watching us walk away.

“Already did!” Courtney shot over her shoulder before we slipped out the door.

“Have you known Lord Agnew long?” I asked, curious about their banter.

“We’ve worked on a handful of battle strategies before… But I assure it’s nothing more than a friendship between us two. I have… eyes for another, let's just say.” She explained, and I nodded, feeling a small weight lifted off my shoulders.

“Anyways, I wanted to know if you’ve ever been in battle before? You clearly know a thing or two about war strategy.” She asked.

“Oh, I’m afraid that is where my war experience ends. I’ve never fought in battle or even traveled with an army before. Back during the last war, my father always left me home with my Septa. I’ve never even actually held a sword. Closest I’ve gotten is when my Uncle Link gave me a dagger for my 14th namesday. But I’ve never even used that for anything besides display.” I explained, slightly embarrassed, seeing as I was talking to a woman who clearly has fighting experience.

“I figured. I wanted to offer to spar and train with you, should you ever want to. The north is known for its warriors, but they’re all men. And boy, do they love tradition up here. A woman? Fighting? Forget it. Us women have to help ourselves usually. No man here will train with you…not even your husband… so if you want to learn to swing a sword, come to me.” She said with a kind smile.

“Thank you. I will definitely keep that in mind.” I said, returning the smile.

Dinner went well. I knew how these things went, having attended hundreds of post-meeting dinners with my father. Everyone shifts and pretends like the meeting never happened. Even just for a little bit. It was just easier.

Luckily, I had figured out which dishes were… decent… to eat and tried to stick to those during the meal as I sat beside Spencer. Everyone stayed for another round of ale after everyone had finished eating before retiring to their respective chambers. This time, Spencer had waited for everyone to leave before us, and when we left, he didn’t offer me his arm. Simply turned and headed towards our chambers.

Once we got there, Spencer went about his normal routine of removing his cloak, putting it on the chair before preparing for bed. I beat him to the washroom first, however, and changed into my night gown. When I came out, I found him sitting at the edge of the bed, still tugging the ties from his boots. I said nothing as I walked past him and sat down at the vanity. I began brushing out my hair for bed, and I could feel his gaze flicking towards me in the mirror ever so often.

“Hollow Creek,” he said. “That was impressive.”

I smirked faintly. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“You stunned Ian Hecox. That man hasn’t blinked since the last frost.” The faintest hint of impression in his tone.

I set the brush down and turned in the chair to look at him. “When I was small, my father used to bring me to all his war councils. He thought I wasn’t paying attention—let me sit on his lap, eating honeyed nuts while men planned sieges.”

Spencer tilted his head, curiosity sparking. “You were listening?”

I nodded. “Every single word.”

Spencer grinned softly, almost amused. “Your father’s going to regret letting you go.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “He already does… I know inviting me to the meeting today was just common courtesy, but I know the southerners. I know my father's and uncle’s tactics and war strategies. I also know what the other armies are like. They were my father's former allies. They have told me their secrets, and they don’t even know it. I think I could be a real asset to future plans.” I said, suddenly not wanting to meet his.

The moment stretched. He didn’t quip back. Just looked at me—like he was seeing something new, something unfolding. And finally, he nodded.

“I definitely won’t be the one to bar you from returning.” He said, getting up and heading over to the chair as he had every single night since our wedding night.

I finished brushing my hair and went over to the bed, but I hesitated. My eyes glanced over at Spencer as he blew out the last candle besides mine, and turned towards the chair.

“That thing can’t be comfortable.” I said.

He shrugged, “I’ve slept on worse. Had to share a cave floor with Damien once. That was rough, but I guess it beat freezing to death.”

“You can sleep in the bed,” I said quietly as if it were a sin that must be kept a secret.

He wavered in his decision for a moment. I swear I could see the silent debate going on in his mind.

“It’s alright. I don’t want to intrude. The chair is just fine. Better than being forced to cuddle up to Damien.” He tried joking again, but I was beginning to see through his shield of humor and sarcasm, not fully, but pinholes were appearing, and I was looking right into one right now.

“You’re about to ride into battle in a few days. It’ll be hard to lead your men if you have a sore back. I’ve noticed you stretching it in the mornings. Please. We’re married. Married people share a bed… I will be fine.” I said.

He hesitated but slowly approached the other side of the bed. His movements were quiet and calculated, almost as if he moved too fast, I’d get spooked and retract the offer.

I slowly pulled back the furs and climbed in, sticking to my respective side of the bed as he did the same. Both of us lay there with our backs to one another. I can’t speak for him, but I was trying to convince myself that he wasn’t there. That I wasn’t sharing a bed with a man. But I found it hard as the heat radiated off of him.

Third Person PoV

Spencer woke earlier than usual. The sun had just risen, but he decided to go ahead and get up. We had a war to prepare for. The first of many battles would be fought in less than a week. There was much to do.

He carefully got out of the now shared bed where his wife still lay asleep. The pair had drifted closer in the night. Spencer even had his hand resting gently on her hip when he had awoken, but he decided not to dwell on it too much as he gently retracted it. Instead, he got up and prepared for the day. Once he was dressed, he slipped out of their chambers, but not without stealing one last glance at his wife as she stirred slightly and began waking up.

First Person PoV

When my eyes opened, Spencer was no longer here. However, the residual heat he left in the bed was. I noticed that I was now practically on his side of the bed, and began to worry that I had moved that close while he was still hear. However, as I got up and made my way to the washroom, I convinced myself I moved over after he got up, searching for the heat he left behind. That had to be it.

Today felt like it would be my first day of really being Lady Agnew. I was being escorted into one of the small mountain villages to recruit women for bandage-making. I knew we all hoped we wouldn’t need them, but once the men returned, we would.

Ser Damien was escorting me, along with a couple of House Agnew soldiers. It was odd. I used to walk around Seastar Hold alone. But then again, I was only the daughter of a Lord then, now I was the Lady of House Agnew. I had a duty to uphold… eventually… so I needed to have some form of protection.

The women of the village weren’t rude; they weren’t particularly kind either. They all agreed to begin, or continue, making bandages and having them brought to the keep, where first aid would be provided for any wounded fighters. On our way back, I decided to ask Ser Damien about his views on their attitude towards me.

“Do you think they hated me?” I asked him as he walked beside me, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword casually.

“No… I just think they’re weary of you still. They know they are to respect you, you’re their Lady after all, but they don’t know you. You’re not from here, so they haven’t gotten a good grasp on who you are. But they’ll come around soon. Perhaps they’ll even warm up to you before your husband does.” He teased, making me laugh slightly.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” I said.

When we arrived back at the keep, there was a guard waiting for us as soon as we entered.

“Lady Yn, Ser Damien, there is a war council meeting. Your presence is requested.” He said.

I nodded, “Thank you, I will be there shortly.” I said, dismissing the guard.

“Well, duty calls.” Ser Damien said before we both turned and began heading to the meeting.

When I entered, the now-familiar smell of pine smoke filled my nose. A few heads turned to me as I walked further in. There were more men here than there were at the previous meeting, and I didn’t recognize most of them. The table now held multiple maps, pinned down by goblets of wine and riding gloves that were still damp from snow, meaning most of these men had just arrived.

I walked past them and took a seat next to Spencer.

“As I was saying,” a grizzly-looking northern man began, “We’ll lose men trying to cross the east river bend. That gully floods like a bastard come thaw.”

Ser Damien, who had taken another seat at the other end of the table, was quick to respond, “Better than your idea, Lord Todd, of charging head-on through Hollow Creek itself and hoping the gods give us wings.”

Spencer said nothing and just let the two men bicker back and forth for a moment as he watched with his arms crossed. Once I figured he was definitely not going to say anything, I decided to.

“What if we bait them into thinking we’ll go through Hollow Creek—then collapse the ridge above the riverbend instead?” I asked, keeping my voice level.

Lord Todd scoffed at my question, “Oh? The lady’s read a map or two and thinks she’s a general now?”

I didn’t falter at his insult. Instead, I stood from my chair and walked over to a map that clearly showed the bend in question. I tapped the area I was talking about with my finger.

“Two barrels of pitch. Light them atop the ridge. The snow melts, the mud slides, the ridge collapses. Their cavalry has nowhere to go. You don’t have to like it—but you can’t pretend it wouldn’t work, Lord Todd.” I said, looking directly at the man.

The room fell silent. The only sound was coming from the cracking of the fire in the hearth. I could feel everyone's eyes on me.

“Well, I’d ride behind her. She’s got sharper eyes than half the commanders in this room.” Lady Courtney’s voice broke through the silence.

“She’s got a better grasp on northern mudslides than Todd, that’s certain,” Spencer added.

Laughter erupted through the room, save for Lord Todd, who muttered something while sipping wine from his goblet. I looked back down the table to Spencer. He wasn’t smiling with impression, his face was neutral. He did give me a single nod, though, as if to say “I respect you.” And that was good enough for me.

The meeting continued, and I stayed quiet until the topic of the preparation of the keep was addressed.

“How are preparations for here going?” Spencer asked.

“Good. Food supply is more than enough for the time being, though they will need to be replenished in the coming month or so. I have also recruited the smallfolk women of the villages to prepare bandages for the wounded. I planned on meeting with the maester tomorrow to check his medicine supply as well.” I said.

Spencer nodded, “Good. That is all for tonight. Everyone should get some rest, eat something warm. Enjoy it while we have it.”

I waited with Spencer as everyone else filed out. Once they were gone, he turned to me.

“The maester needs your help with something.”

I nodded for him to continue.

“Your father and uncle have written to us about their plans. Only issue is, we don’t understand a damn thing the letters say. Your father’s letter is mostly deciphered, and only a few key parts are missing. Your uncle’s, however… I am starting to wonder if he won all his battles by writing to the enemy about his plans and attacked while they were trying to read what it said. His handwriting is horrible.” He explained.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“His is pretty bad… I can help read them. I have been doing it for years.” I said.

“Good, no use having allies if you can’t understand them.” He said as he stood.

I stood as well and followed him out. We ate dinner together, just the two of us.

“How did the villagefolk treat you?” He finally asked, after setting down his mug of ale.

“About like you do. I don’t think they hated me, but they weren’t welcoming me with warm hugs and affection.” I said.

He nodded, “Are there bets in place? I would like in on it if there are.”

“Not that I am aware of. Check with Ser Damien, if anyone had bets, it’d be him.”

He didn’t quite laugh, but he did exhale in amusement and tried to hide his smirk behind his mug of ale. Once dinner was finished, we both returned to our chambers and went about our own nightly routines. However, this time there was no discussion on where he was going to sleep. He simply went to his side and climbed in, being sure to leave a large gap between the two of us.

The day before the troops were set to move out was filled with last-minute preparations of the keep. None of us expected the southern enemies to make it this far north, but still, preparations had to be made. One such preparation was ensuring that the walls were all secured, which included going out and observing it yourself. This task was usually left to the Lord of the keep, but Spencer had extended an invitation for me to join him.

I met him in the stables, dressed to ride. Which surely surprised him. I was not in a dress like I had always been around him. Instead, I had a pair of dark brown riding pants. They were tailored perfectly to my figure, very uncommon for a Lady to wear, but far more practical for riding, especially up north. I tucked the ends of them into a pair of riding boots I had brought with me. Up top, I was wearing a simple cream colored tunic underneath a dark pine green wool coat. The coat was a gift from Angela, and it fit me beautifully. It was cut just past the hips and cinched at the waist with a braided leather belt, and lined with silver fox fur along the collar and cuffs. Lastly, I had on the light cloak that Spencer had gifted me.

He glanced up.

Paused.

Then tilted his head.

“Well. That’s one way to scandalize half the northern court.” He smirked, clearly impressed, “Didn’t think they made trousers that sharp south of the river.”

I shrugged, mounting with ease, “They don’t. These were made here, actually. You Northerners may lack manners, but your tailors are miracle workers.”

His grin widened.

“Careful, wife. Say a few more things like that, and I might start to enjoy your company.”

I smiled to myself slightly as I followed him out of the keep and down the snow-lined road. The walls of the Hold itself had already been inspected and were ready; we were going out to the walls that surrounded the handful of small villages near the Hold. When we got to the gate of the outer wall, Spencer gave a single nod, and they were opened for us.

A memory of hearing tales of Spencer’s past… companions crossed my mind as my horse walked through the gate. Rumors of them disappearing in the thick pine woods had spread across Virelia more than once.

“This isn’t the part where you lead me to the forest and leave me for dead, is it?” I asked teasingly, but I would be lying if there wasn’t a small part of me that was a little scared.

“Why would you say that?” He asked, a slight knowing tone edging his voice.

“I’ve heard rumors…” I said I wasn't sure if I should specify the rumor or not.

“Ah, yes. My last lover, who disappeared into the frost, not a trace was left. Is that the rumor you’re referring to?” He asked.

I said nothing.

“Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t call her a lover. She was a whore. A whore I never even touched. Ser Damien thought it would be a fun surprise to send a whore to my chambers for my names day a few years ago… truth be told I prefer to select my whores myself. I prefer the ones who don’t know who I am, that I was heir to the longest-lasting keep in all of Virelia, that I carried an ancient and powerful name. And she clearly did, seeing as he had sent her to my chambers… I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I waited until it was dark, escorted her out here, and sent her back to where she had come from. She was sent with warm clothes, food, and a horse. She was not abandoned.” He explained.

“Oh… why didn’t you tell people that?” I asked curiously.

He shrugged, “Sometimes it's just better to let others believe whatever they want to believe.”

I only nodded.

“What about the rumors I’ve heard about you?” He asked after a moment.

“There are rumors about me? All the way up here?” I asked, slightly shocked.

“There are rumors about everyone, everywhere. You’re no different. In fact, I’ve heard that you have a few nicknames… I’ve heard some whispers about The Bastard of Brightmere… does that ring a bell?” He asked, eyeing from where he rode beside me.

“Many, I am afraid… I am sure you’re aware that I am a legitimized bastard. My father had a long relationship with a whore… he told me stories of their times together, he truly loved her and wanted to marry her but he knew he couldn’t. She got pregnant with me, and he promised to be there for the child and support both of them. By this point, he was being forced to search for a bride and had entered a courtship. He had to leave to meet with the father of his intended; my mother was still a couple moons from being due, so he wasn’t too worried about her. But she began to have labor pains the day after he left. I was born the following day, and she passed. When he arrived, he went to see my mother, to check on her, only to find that she had had the baby early and didn’t make it. He took me with him to the keep and wrote two letters. One to king to legitimize me as his rightful daughter and heir. The second to call off his engagement.” I explained, trying to keep my tone even.

Spencer halted his horse beside me, causing me to do the same.

“It wasn’t a diplomatic move?” He asked.

I shook my head, “He loved my mother. And he had promised to support her and the child they were having. He wasn’t able to support her, so he’d be damned if he didn’t support his daughter. Until the threat of war began, I was told I would be able to marry whenever and whoever I wanted… that’s one of the few things my father ever backed out of on me.”

“I am assuming I wasn’t what you had in mind?” He quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh no, I always dreamed of being wed to a brooding northern lord who was late to our wedding.” I shot back, trying to sound serious but failing slightly.

“Well,l I am glad to be your knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

We continued to ride, inspecting any loose parts of the wall and taking note of where they were to send men out to fix them. It didn’t take long, and we were soon on our way back.

The wind bit at my cheeks, but I didn’t mind. The snow had lightened, drifting like sifted flour over the ever-white road back to Caerwatch. The sound of hoofbeats echoed through the pines, muffled by the snow underfoot. Spencer rode just ahead, his breath visible in the cold, his silhouette framed by the distant, brooding towers of the keep.

We hadn’t spoken much after inspecting the damaged east wall, but the silence had grown… companionable. Not quite warm, but no longer sharp-edged either.

Then I noticed it — his horse eased into a quicker trot, deliberate, measured. A glance over his shoulder, that familiar flicker of sarcasm dancing in his eyes.

“You know, you southerners ride as slow as you talk,” he called over his shoulder.

I narrowed my eyes, “We just don’t need to prove ourselves every time we mount a horse.”

“Mm. Sounds like something someone losing would say.”

He nudged his mare again — not quite a gallop, but just enough to pull ahead. The challenge was subtle. Infuriatingly smug.

I nudged my own steed, matching pace easily.

He heard me gain on him and didn’t look back. Just pressed forward, smug bastard.

I grinned, heart quickening. Fine.

I leaned forward, whispered encouragement to my horse, and let her go.

The cold air knifed past my ears as we surged forward. Snow kicked up behind me. I heard Spencer curse, then laugh — really laugh — and chase after me, his voice echoing through the trees.

“You’re cheating!” I heard him holler, and I swear I could hear the smile in his voice.

“You’re just slow!” I shot over my shoulder at him.

We thundered over the ridge, hooves hammering frozen earth. For a moment, it felt like I could fly, cloak snapping behind me, cheeks flushed with speed and something dangerously close to joy.

I reached the outer gates first, breathing hard, laughing as I pulled the reins to slow.

Spencer arrived seconds later, panting, curls wind-tossed and eyes alight.

“You are unreasonable,” he said between breaths.

“You’re just bitter.” I teased.

He chuckled lowly, shaking his head. For once, he didn’t have a retort. Just that rare, crooked half-smile I’d come to recognize — the one that meant I’d surprised him.

And for once… it felt good.

“I suggest you change out of those clothes soon.” He finally said after we brought our horses back to the stables.

“Why? Are you afraid of the wondering eyes of northern men eyeing your wife?” I teased, still riding the high of winning.

“No, I don’t want to have to explain to those northern men that my wife died of hypothermia from the snow melting from her clothes.” He shot back.

I cursed under my breath because he had a good point, and I had no retort to fire back.

“Fine, and what about the snow on your clothes, Lord Agnew?” I asked.

“I will be staying out in the snow, training, and I will be fine for now. I will change before I meet you for dinner this evening. I’d hate to leave the whole north in the hands of someone rumored to have had a love affair with one of her father’s knights.” He said before turning swiftly and walking towards the training yard.

I was left stunned… how had he heard about that?

I made a mental note to ask him about that later and turned to head inside. Once I made it to my chambers, Angela was already there waiting for me to arrive to help me change out of the clothes I was wearing. And though I hate to admit it, Spencer was right. Once I came inside, the warmth was melting the snow that was caked to my riding pants, and it was already making me quite cold.

The second I walked in and Angela saw the caked-on snow melting, she whistled lowly.

“Well, well. You went riding — and came back looking like you won something. Which means you either outran Lord Agnew or finally saw him smile.”

I rolled my eyes, kicking off my boots by the door.

“He started it.”

“Oh gods, that definitely means you won.”

She flounced over with a smug look on her face, arms crossed. “Tell me everything. Did you two race like proper nobles or did you just tear across the snow like unhinged children?”

“Children,” I muttered, taking off my cloak. “Definitely unhinged.”

Angela laughed, then squinted at me.

“And you’re smiling. That’s new.” She said, taking the cloak from me as I began to take off the coat.

I looked down, pretending to focus deeply on the buttons of the coat.

“It was just a race. He said I was slow. I proved him wrong.”

“A duel of horses and pride. How terribly romantic,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “Tell me, did he stare after you with wind in his hair and regret in his soul?”

“He cursed. A lot.”

“Same thing.” She smirked.

Third Person PoV

Out in the training yard, Spencer was tending to his sword in quiet focus when Ser Damien strolled up, smug as ever. The swordsman leaned against the post with his arms crossed.

“So…” Damien drawled. “Word around the stables is you were left in a white blur of snow and shame today.”

Spencer didn't look up. “That blur had legs half the length of mine. Don’t know how it happened.”

Damien chuckled. “Ah, yes, the great Northern excuse: ‘She cheated.’ Sounds better than admitting your wife outrode you in front of half the guard.”

Spencer smirked faintly. “She has something to prove. I let her have it.”

“Of course you did,” Damien said, deadpan. “Nothing screams confidence like eating snow on the ride home.”

Spencer glanced at him, eyes sharp but mouth twitching.

“She needed the win more than I did.”

“And you didn’t mind seeing her flushed and laughing like that, did you?”

Spencer paused. Just long enough for Damien’s grin to widen.

“I hate you, you know that,” Spencer muttered.

“You love me,” Damien said, turning away with a wink. “Almost as much as you're starting to like her.”

First Person PoV

When I walked into the hall for dinner with Spencer, I had one thing on my mind, and it wasn’t his departure with the troops tomorrow. No. I was going to figure out how he had heard that rumor about me and that stupid knight.

As soon as the first course was placed in front of us, I wasted no time.

“Who told you about that knight?” I asked.

“What?”

“You told me about a rumor about a ‘love affair’ I had with one of my father’s knights. Who told you about this?” I asked.

“Hhmm… I’d hate to turn you against your favorite handmaiden.” He said, smirking into his mug of ale.

I gasped, “That bitch! What did she tell you?”

I wasn’t really angry, just shocked she would tell him about this, and leave out key details.

“Well, she didn’t tell me anything. I overheard her talking with the other handmaidens the other morning. So tell me, how do I compare to the Mystic Knight?” He asked.

“Well, if you must know, you’ve at least gotten further than he ever did, you’ve shared a bed with me… all he ever got was a chaste kiss under the Moonfire Tree in the gardens of Brightmere Keep. It was a stupid game, and I was dared by Angela to do it.” I explained.

“Oh, well, lucky me. Who’s a better kisser?”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, nearly spitting out the wine I was sipping.

“Who was the better kisser? Me? Or him?” He asked so casually you’d think he was completely disinterested in the entire conversation, but the light behind his eyes said otherwise.

“Considering the only time I’ve kissed you was at our wedding, and it felt like kissing a cold stone wall, I’d say he was… How does it feel to lose twice in a single day, Lord Agnew?” I asked smuggly.

“The day’s not over, I could still change the outcome of one of my losses.” He said.

I felt my cheeks heating up, but didn’t waver.

“I’d like to see you try.” I shot back.

Then, without a word, he stood from his chair and began walking towards me. When he was next to me, he pulled my chair out and turned it to face him. He placed one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the armrest, effectively trapping me in the chair. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, and I am sure if it wasn’t for the crackling of the fire, Spencer would have heard it too.

He leaned forward, crowding my personal space, but oddly, I didn’t find myself minding it all to much. My breath caught in my throat for a second. Then he gently grabbed my hand closest to his that was on the armrest and slowly brought it up to his mouth. Without breaking eye contact with me, he softly pressed his lips against the knuckles of my hand. He pulled it away and set it gently back into my lap.

“You know, you’re quite cute when you're flustered… makes me want to do it more often.” He whispered before straightening back up and turning to walk back to his chair.

He sat down and continued his meal as if nothing had just happened. Meanwhile, I was sitting there, head spinning with replays of his actions and words.

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Taglist: @fan-g0rl, @spennininomenon @mazzyowl @burrowedinnature77 @apollothegod22 @scratch-and-sniff-ghost33 @areyoutheregoditsmecelia @cloverrwritess @readerihardlyknowher @lovergurl4life @goblynnrockz @ahhhiscute

#smosh fic #smosh spencer #smosh fanfiction #smosh games #smosh #spencer agnew #spencer agnew fanfic #spencer agnew x reader #game of thrones au #bound by winter

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jessesluvr · 3 days ago

Note

Can you please do a continuation of "close, not mine" where reader finally date someone else after, and when she announces she's pregnant, jesse breaks down because now he can understand part of what reader felt before? And he never stopped being mad in love with her so now that he knows she'll have a kid that won't be his he's a crying mess? And dina feels bad, feeling guilty and feeling like she was the "cause" of the end of their love?

what comes after (alternate ending) | jesse x reader

author's note : oH, you just like ripping out my heart and throwing it on the floor huh?! YOU are now my number one enemy, i swear it. this is the original fic. i hope you guys enjoy !

word count : 900

it happened on a quiet morning in jackson.

the town was starting to bloom again—modest patches of green curling around porches, flowers sprouting along the edges of the main road. spring always brought a hush before the work began. and for a moment, everything felt like it might be okay.

jesse had just finished helping tommy unload a shipment of tools when he saw her—

you.

you stood near the bulletin board, reading the patrol schedules. your hair was longer now, pulled back in a loose braid. you wore that gray sweater jesse remembered, the one with the thumb holes. but what stopped him wasn’t the sweater, or your quiet focus. it was your hand, resting over your belly.

it wasn’t subtle. not anymore.

you were glowing. not the way people always described pregnancy, like it was a perfect, golden state of being. no—you glowed like you were living in the sunlight again. your face full, relaxed. peaceful.

jesse’s breath caught in his throat.

the man beside you—the one from the greenhouse—held your other hand. he leaned down, whispered something, and you laughed. it was quiet. whole.

jesse took one step back, then another. but it was too late. you’d already turned and caught his eye.

the second your gaze met his, your smile faltered. not in guilt. not in fear. just sadness. recognition.

you nodded. just once.

and jesse broke.

he didn’t cry right away.

not in the street. not in front of anyone. he went through the motions. helped tommy carry the crates. said something short and polite when maria passed by. walked home like his bones didn’t ache.

but as soon as the door closed behind him, the weight came.

he collapsed onto the couch, hands in his hair, breath tight in his chest. it came in waves—first disbelief, then sorrow, then something sharp and splintered.

you were going to be a mother.

and he wouldn’t be part of it.

all this time, jesse thought he’d done the mature thing. letting you go. supporting dina. being steady, being good. he thought he could carry it all, that love could survive anything if you kept your shoulders square.

but now he understood.

now he saw it—the aching distance you’d once lived with. the thousand little moments where your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. the way you’d tucked away your dreams of a baby, of a future, because his life had suddenly been filled with someone else’s child.

and now, you were building what you’d once asked of him. with someone new. someone who hadn’t seen you break and cry and sleep alone in the guesthouse for weeks.

someone who hadn’t let you walk away.

he was still sitting in silence when dina knocked that night.

she found him in the dark, one lamp lit beside the window.

"you saw her," dina said softly.

he nodded.

dina stepped inside, closing the door quietly. she crossed the room and sat in the armchair. her hands were folded in her lap, still stained from cleaning brushes at the daycare.

"she looked good," dina offered. "happy."

jesse laughed, but it was hollow. "she’s pregnant."

dina winced. "yeah. i know."

he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing the back of his neck like it would ground him.

"i thought i understood before," jesse said. "what i put her through. when you came back… with your news… i thought i was doing the right thing. trying to be fair. trying to do right by everyone."

dina didn’t interrupt.

"but now i get it," he said, voice cracking. "now i know what it feels like. to watch the person you love have a child with someone else."

a long silence fell.

"i still dream about her sometimes," jesse admitted. "still think she’s going to walk through that door."

dina swallowed hard.

"you loved her like hell," she said. "she loved you back. i knew that."

he looked at her then—eyes red, jaw trembling.

"then why did i let it fall apart?"

dina didn’t answer right away. she looked down at her hands.

"because i showed up. pregnant. with your past. and you tried to be good to all of us."

she blinked quickly.

"i think… i think i broke something when i asked you to stay. and i knew it, even then. but i didn’t want to be alone in it. i didn’t want to do it without you."

jesse’s heart twisted.

dina met his eyes. "i didn’t want to hurt her. but if i’m honest, i think part of me knew she wouldn’t stay. and i think part of me let her go."

the guilt in her voice was raw. deep.

"i feel like i killed what you had."

"you didn’t kill it," jesse said quietly. "it just couldn’t survive with all of us pretending we were okay."

he stood, crossing to the window. the street outside was empty. the porch light in your house flicked on.

he saw the greenhouse man close the door behind him. you were home.

and jesse? he stayed where he was, watching from the quiet, holding the ghost of what might’ve been.

he didn’t know if he would ever stop loving you.

but now he understood what it meant to grieve something that wasn’t his anymore.

and maybe that was the cruelest kind of closure there was.

#tlou jesse x reader #jesse x reader #jesse tlou #tlou jesse #jesse oneshot #jesse tlou x reader #jesse tlou imagines #tlou jesse oneshot #tlou fanfics

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ruhitsblog · 2 days ago

Text

OVERTAKEN STARDOM

I’m fat. Not chubby, not round, not “cuddly.” I am obese. It’s not something I have ever tried to hide, or deny. My body is my body, and I accept it for what it is. But it makes acting difficult. The fact that I don’t even *try* to look attractive doesn’t help either. I wear ratty clothes that hang off me, and a cap over my messy hair. I’ve always been this way; when I was younger, I worked in factories or warehouses. Now, though, I work as a janitor at a movie studio. A low-key job for a low-key person.

I wish that I could say I love my job, but it’s just work. It’s not fulfilling. And it’s boring. So very boring. I don’t have any real friends here, because people don’t really talk to me. They might nod as we pass each other in the hallway, but they don’t try to get to know me.

The only good thing about my job is watching the actors rehearse their scenes. It’s the highlight of my day. Especially if there’s an action scene. Or a dramatic monologue. Even seeing them block out the choreography for a dance number gets me excited.

I want to act.

It’s a pipe dream. I know that I’ll never get a chance to be on screen. And even if I did, who would want to see my face? I wouldn’t want to see my own face up there.

But still... sometimes, late at night when I’m lying awake, I imagine myself being up on that stage. Delivering those lines. Dancing through that fight scene.

Of all the actors I watch, I think about KJ Apa the most. He plays the role of our main character: the dashing hero of the story. I can’t believe how handsome he is! He’s lean and muscular, with thick black hair that frames his heart-shaped face. His skin is smooth and perfect, unblemished by even a single scar. His lips curve in a perpetual smile, even when he’s playing a sad scene. And his eyes are bright blue. Bright enough to blind you if you stare at them too long.

KJ has a bad reputation here. He shows up late. He forgets his lines. Sometimes he doesn’t bother to memorize them at all. He’s always distracted. Always messing around with the crew, or his co-star (the lovely Camila Mendes). He’s always getting scolded by the director. He just laughs it off, and keeps going.

One time, he showed up drunk during rehearsals. Another time, he fell asleep in his chair while they were filming. Everyone here loves him anyway, and I can understand why. There’s something so charming about him, even though he seems completely irresponsible.

And then there are the times when he shows up naked. Sometimes, he’s fully naked. Other times, he just has his shirt off, or maybe just his pants. Once, I saw him with his pants down, his bare ass hanging out for everyone to see.

No one seems to care. In fact, they seem to enjoy it. Everyone laughs, and the camera operators start snapping pictures on their phones. I’ve seen the director grope his butt a few times too.

I’m not sure what to make of it.

Last week, the director announced that filming would stop early. A couple of hours later than usual, but still early. No one complained; we’re all excited for the holiday coming up. As soon as the announcement came over the intercom, people started packing up. After the shoot as I was works ng I found kj apa's locker room open them I found his muskky and sweaty jacket I was so arrowsed of his smell that I slipped naked and tried to put his small jacket on my huge body but as I to put it I noticed that my body seems to adjust to its size and I felt strange like I was loosing weight and gaining blonde hair on my bald head and muscle mass and all of my fat was disappearing in seconds and my dick was becoming larger too I was feeling my bones cracking and popping as my body was adjusting to its new form and I look at the mirror

and I saw not the reflection of the old fat man I used to be I saw the beautiful young man that kj apa is and his face was mine but I still had my memories and personality. I looked in horror as I realized that I became into kj apa without a trace of my former self.

I knew that I had to act like him but I don't know if I can do it but as i look in the mirror again I notice that my eyes were different, they were darker and more intense than before, I knew that this will help me to pull off his act. So I decided to try and see what happened.

As I walk outside the building I was stopped by several crew members and directors they asked me where the hell I've been and that I missed the last scene but I didn't knew what to say so I apologize for missing it and I promised that won't happen again. And then the director told me that we'll be doing a re-shoot tomorrow and that I need to learn my lines better because yesterday was a disaster. I knew that this would be harder than I thought. But I decided that I would give it my best shot.

I went home and spend the night trying to learn my lines and reading the script over and over again. I barely slept at all. By dawn, my head was throbbing from lack of sleep, but I still had all the lines memorized.

When I got to the set that morning, I was ready. I walked confidently onto the soundstage, waving at everyone. They greeted me back cheerfully, and everything seemed normal.

For the first few scenes, everything went fine. I delivered my lines perfectly, and the director gave me high praise. Everything was working exactly as planned. I was able to mimic KJ’s mannerisms and speech patterns pretty well. And with his handsome face and body, I couldn’t ask for anything more.

But then things started to go downhill.

I began to feel horrny after seeing so many beautiful actress so I finished my lines and grabbed some girls and let them to my trailer and starts to fuck them so hard that they moan and begged for more as u cummed into them I realised that this was the life I wanted and not the life of an old man.

I had to take a break to get changed into a new outfit. As I left the set, I saw the director talking to Camila (my co-star) in hushed tones. They were both looking at me worriedly. I didn’t understand why.

When I got to my trailer, I realized that I’d forgotten my script in the dressing room. I turned around and headed back. That’s when I saw KJ Apa unconscious there. Naked, with his dick hanging out. My dick. *My* dick

I hid him under the bed then I packed him in a big bag and carried to my new home and tied him in the basement there can't be two kj apa , I am the only real kj apa

Days went by and kj apa wake up and understood everything but the fake kj apa rapped him every day and let him suck his own cock then he fucked him deep and fast making him scream in agony

Months passed and the real kj apa lost his mind and became the sex slave of the fake one and the movie was a great success and no one noticed any changes in the actor and he kept fucking women every day. And no one noticed anything.

Years went by and the fake kj apa got married with Camila mendes and he kept fucking her and making her pregnant every year and he became one of the biggest stars in hollywood and he never stop fucking women and he never stop fucking the real kj apa his sex slave.

And the real kj apa died alone in the basement of the fake kj apa house and his body was buried in the backyard where he built a new toilet for humiliating him and no one never found

#male body swap #identity theft #transformation #stolen life #KJ apa

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magicaldice · 2 days ago

Text

Synopsis: Y/n goes to a party with her bestfriend without telling her toxic boyfriend. She unexpectedly meets Chris sturniolo & things start to unravel overtime.

⚠︎ : read at your own leisure.

any feedback, likes, comments or shares, are appreciated!

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 part 6

After Chris had stayed the night at my house I felt a feeling that was unfamiliar. I couldn't decipher what exactly what I was feeling but it was close to guilt.

Katie had seen Chris leave the house in the morning. She had gave me a "what the hell" kind of look but never said anything. I didn't want her to make it a big thing, and she didn't.

It's been 4 days since he stayed the night. 4 days of confusing mixed emotions. 4 days of my thoughts weighing heavy, suffocating my heart. 4 days thinking to the point of exhaustion.

Jackson had been over 3 days in a row, which is very unusual. He usually only would come over for sex and leave. Or whenever we did hangout, it was never 3 days in a row.

I shouldn't mind, afterall Jackson was my boyfriend. The thing was, Jackson and I being around each other so much the last 3 days has made things harder. I wasn't able to text or hangout with Chris at all. The main reason being Jackson didn't know I was friends with Chris in the first place.

He would kill me if he knew I was friends with a man, let alone have sleepovers with Chris. I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, but I also wasn't trying to tell Jackson either.

I told myself if Jackson was to be cool with me being friends with another man I would of told him by now. But honestly I don't even think that's the truth anymore.

I had so many thoughts swarming my mind any time I was alone. And 9 times out of 10 they were about Chris.

Chris made me feel something I never felt before. He somehow made it easier for me to be comfortable in my own skin. He had made me feel safe to be myself. And I couldnt stand it.

And what I mean by that is I hate that he has made those things possible for me because now, I wanted to spend every minute I had available with him. And I couldn't now that Jackson and I have hungout with each other 3 days in a row.

Jackson's currently in the shower. He brought me back to his place and said he was going to take a shower before we lay down. Jackson was acting weird these past 3 days. More clingy than usual.

But while he was in the shower I had checked my notifications.

from chris: I miss u. tell your boyfriend to go bother someone else so I can come pick u up

to chris: u know I cant do that. miss u 2.

from chris: yea yea I know. lmk when u can hang

I put my phone on dnd. Jackson walks into the room, towel wrapped around his waist. "Who you texting" he asks. "What? No one" I lied, a little too quickly. It was hard to be present with Jackson when the only thing my mind would let me think about was Chris.

"Come here. Wanna see you underneath me" Jackson said, letting the towel fall from his waist. My stomach turns. Should of knew this was coming.

Chris's POV:

I hated the way she made me feel. She made me feel things I hadn't felt in so long. I felt cared for and thinking about it always made my stomach turn.

But at the same time she had made me feel jealous. I know it was never intentional, but the jealousy still existed in my heart. I hated her boyfriend. I hated how he was the one who got to call her "mine".

This wasn't about infatuation, possessiveness or fucking attraction anymore. This was deeper than that now. And I hated the way it made me feel so indecisive. Every bone in my body told me to let her be, just let her go and move on with my life.

Every inch of my body wanted me to run away again, run from my feelings, run from her. But I wouldn't let myself. I couldn't.

It's been 4 days since I spent the night at her house. 4 days since getting to spend time with her. 4 days since having an actual conversation. 4 days since I held her as she fell asleep in my arms.

She's been with Jackson for the last 3 days and I hated every second of it. How she wasn't able to hangout with me, or even text.

I couldn't keep my mind off her even if I tried. I hated it. I didn't know what to do anymore. How much longer I could keep it a secret. How much longer I could pretend like I didn't have feelings for her.

A part of me wanted to tell her. A part of me thought she could possibly already know. I felt like every time we hungout I got worse at hiding how I actually felt.

The sleepovers. The eyes that lingered too long. The most obvious excuses just to have some sort of physical contact. The compliments. It was getting more intense and harder for me to hide it.

Y/n has a boyfriend. And I know she wouldn't cheat but deep down I hoped she would. And as bad as that sounds I didn't give a fuck. I wanted her, I needed her.

Y/n's POV:

I'm finally at my house after spending the last 3 days with Jackson. I felt like I could breathe again. I sit on my bed debating if I should text Chris or not. I wanted to but at the same time maybe I shouldn't.

To be completely truthful, I'm almost scared to hangout with Chris now. After the constant thinking of him, constant confusing feelings I've felt over the last couple days.

I feel like I've been so caught up with Chris recently that I have been so distant with Jackson. Despite being with Jackson for the last 3 days I wasn't able to actually focus on him.

I felt disconnected from Jackson and that put fear in my heart. Jackson has been my boyfriend for a year, losing him sounds awful.

And yeah Jackson isn't perfect but he's been there ya know. He's shown me love in his own way.

After spending some time thinking I decided to facetime Jackson.

The call had gone terrible. He didn't answer the first time I called but the second time I called he picked up the phone irritated to say the least.

He had been in the middle of an "important" video game match.

I had went to Katie's room to maybe talk to her about how I feel but she wasn't there. Which isn't a surprise, she's barely ever home anymore.

A couple hours pass

I texted Chris, even though I probably needed to distant myself from him. And he had answered right away.

He came and picked me up and as soon as I got around him, I felt like a living person again.

We got to his house and Madi and Matt were sitting in the living room. We had all hungout together for awhile before Madi and Matt went to their bedroom.

Chris had grabbed my hand and led me to his bedroom, like it was a routine we had subconsciously made. We sat on the bed talking for awhile.

"I don't know, Jackson being extra clingy for 3 days straight is just surprising. It felt weird" I said to Chris, who was rolling a blunt next to me. "Why did it feel weird?" Chris asked, his eyes focused on blunt. "I don't know. I guess he just never wants to hangout multiple days in a row" I responded.

"I hate your boyfriend" Chris blurts out, his eyes still focused on rolling the blunt. I don't respond.

He lit the blunt and I watched as he inhaled the smoke. We passed the blunt back and forth, letting the thc mellow us out.

"You look good" Chris says out of the blue, his eyes now glossed over. I smiled before hitting the blunt.

After we finish the blunt we both sprawled out on his bed, laying down and staring at the ceiling.

"I missed you" he said. "I missed you too" I respond. "You should just live here" he said as if that was something totally casual to say. "Chris" I look over at him. "I know I just hate when your not with me" he says, his eyes still staring at the ceiling above us.

My stomach twisted at his words. I let out a deep breath. It's gotta be the weed that's making him talk like this I tell myself.

"We should order food" I say trying to subtly change the subject. Chris sits up on the bed and looks at me. I sit up off the bed and face him.

Without saying anything Chris grabs onto my body, placing me on top of his lap. I'm taken back by his actions, now straddled on his lap. "Chris" I said quietly, staring into his eyes with perplexity. "Yeah?" he says.

I want to speak, I want to ask why he just placed me on his lap. I want to tell him that having me on his lap isn't a good idea. I wanted to tell him that Jackson would kill me if he saw me straddled on him. But all of my thoughts go silent when I feel his hand rub against my lower back.

The physical contact with Chris is too much. It's so overpowering, and my body heats up quickly. "Chris" I said once again, trying to form a coherent thought. "Yeah?' he repeats.

I don't respond, because I don't know how at the moment. "You okay?" he asks. I nod my head. Chris places both his hands on my hips. "You're so beautiful you know that?" he says. My breath is shaky and my heart is racing. keep it together y/n.

His eyes are locked on mine, glossed over and seeping with heavy emotions. "I don't think I should be on you like this" I said quietly. He doesn't respond, his hands just grip onto my hips gently.

Our faces are inches apart and the tension between us is close to overwhelming. "You can get off of me if you want" he said softly. I hated this so much. Because I should want to get off of him. And as much as I should, I don't get off. The feeling of desire taking over my body and thoughts.

Chris is staring at me, in a way that says he wants to touch me in ways he shouldn't. "You shouldn't be looking at me like that" I said quietly. I watch as he smiles innocently, masking the intense desire that lays beneath.

"You can get off of me if you want" he repeats. "I don't want to" I said quickly. He stares into my eyes, like he's searching for something. Analyzing my face as his hands start to run all over my lower body. "I want to make you feel good" he said, barely above a whisper.

My heart is thumping against my chest. "Were friends Chris" I said trying so hard to keep my composure. "Mhm" he hummed. "Let me make you feel good, as your friend yeah?" he purred. His hands stop moving and he stares into my eyes once again.

I knew this was wrong. I knew I was supposed to be a good person and get off of his Chris's lap. I knew I wasn't supposed to be looking at him the way I was. I knew I needed to tell Chris that this was wrong and that I couldn't be this intimate with him.

But no matter how hard I tried convincing myself to get off of his lap I couldn't get myself to. Instead I was in a trance by his touch. The way he had gripped onto my lower body had me melting and I couldn't talk myself out of it.

"Were friends" I repeated, breath shaky. "Friends can kiss sometimes right?" he coaxed before brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. And without thinking I leaned in, and that's when everything I had tried suppressing came back to life.

His lips pressed against mine, our mouths in sync with one another. The feeling of desire, the feeling of need had crashed upon me. The kisses weren't rushed, they were needy but slow.

Every confused feeling I had felt these past few days were no longer confusing .They were very clear in this very moment.

With my lips repeatedly pressing against his, my body had felt on fire. I felt alive, adrenaline pumping through my veins. His hand runs through my hair gently as he lowers his kisses down to my jaw. My heart beats faster than ever as he kisses the sweet spot on my neck.

I was so caught up in the moment that when my phone started ringing it had startled me.

My body freezes and Chris stops kissing my neck. I grab my phone and see Katie's name on the caller ID. I immediately get off Chris's lap and answer.

"Hello" I say into the phone, trying to steady my breath. "Hey where you at?" she asked. I look over at Chris who is refusing to make eye contact with me. "At a friend's house why?" I responded.

"Oh okay was just gonna ask if you were gonna be home tonight" she said. "Yeah. Yeah I'll be there".

After a few more words and exchanging goodbyes I had hung up the phone. I look over at Chris who is staring at the floor. "Im sorry" he said. "I need to leave" I said.

"No don't leave" he said grabbing my arm quickly. "I have a boyfriend Chris. And I love him. I need to go" I said. Chris lets go of my arm and I walk out to the living room, put my shoes on and head out the door.

I wait outside after calling Katie back to come pick me up.

What the fuck did I just do?

taglist:

@overlygoin @riggysworld @mattstromboli @nessaisabelartemas333 @sturniolobananas1 @xoxbunni

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storiesbyjes2g · 2 days ago

Text

3.255 The quiet divide

We left the hospital in a daze. The kind that seeps into your bones and gives you a false sense of calm. I don’t remember the journey home, only the moment we plopped on the couch like we’d just returned from war. I sat there, numb, staring at the empty TV screen. Sophia's sighs brought me back to the present. I felt for her—for us. We discussed it. No more children, we said. Even though I still wanted a child now and then, I would have never revisited that conversation, especially given how badly she struggled with Desiree. But here we are, expecting another child in the most unconventional way possible. I'm glad it's a boy, but if I'm honest, I don't want him this way.

I tried so many times to glance in her direction and see how she was doing, but I chickened out every time. Carrying a baby as a man was hard. No one would fault me if I behaved selfishly and threw myself a little pity party. Still, I couldn't help but focus on Sophia. This might be hard for me, but she's the one having to bear it all on top of coming to terms with her feelings about starting over. I had to ask.

"Sophia..."

She exhaled, breath coated in emotional exhaustion.

"Hmm?"

"I need to know how you really feel about this. Like, for real."

She exhaled again, staring at the floor.

"No, you don't."

"Please..."

She looked at me, finally, as if to beg me not to make her dig that deep. I don't know what she found in my eyes, but after holding my gaze for several moments, she relented and gazed at the floor again.

"We fought so hard for Desi. All those stupid treatments ... All the tears ... All that time just...gone. We both wanted a big family, and I felt like I let you down. But now, you're the one expecting. And we didn't even have to try. It hurts, Luca." Tears welled up in her eyes. "It really hurts."

I couldn't help but cry, too. It wasn't anyone's fault, but I poured salt on wounds I didn't know were still open. This whole thing is such a mess! I wanted to fix it for her, despite knowing there was really nothing I could do. A thought entered my mind, one I never expected I'd entertain. I felt guilty just considering it, but if it healed my wife...

"Do you, uhh..." I couldn't even get the words out; they were so wrong. I couldn't even look her in the eye. "Should I tell Dr. McKnight I changed my mind?"

She gasped, mouth agape, surprised I said it, but clearly weighing her response. Then she shook it off.

"What? No! I'd never ask you-"

"I know you wouldn't," I said, cutting her off. "I'm opening the door."

She sank into the sofa, burdened by the weight of her decision. I felt bad for putting that on her, but I needed her to know she had a stake in this as much as I did. This baby might not be her blood, but he'll still be her child.

"I don't want you to do that," she said, finally. "I just—I don't know what I'm supposed to feel right now. I know that I'm scared, and I feel like maybe this is how-"

Whatever she was about to say took her aback. Her eyes went wide, and her body stiffened. I waited for her to continue, but she never did. I wanted to know her deep feelings, but I didn't have the energy to go there while my back throbbed and the cramps returned. She'd revisit when she felt ready to share.

"I don't remember you being in this much pain," I groaned.

She wiped tears, looking relieved for a new topic.

"Your body isn't exactly designed for this. He's just trying to make do with what he has."

"He needs to be calmer about it. You hear that, little guy? Give me a break, please."

A tiny smile warmed the space between us, giving me a brief respite from our troubles. But then it went away.

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted a son?" she asked.

It was a valid, simple question, yet it still caught me off guard.

"Well ... You were very clear about not having more children. Why bring it up?"

"We could have discussed it. We could've...adopted or something. It's obvious you wanted it pretty bad. I don't want you feeling like I stole your dream or something."

"It's not like that, Sophia. I swear."

"So, what was all that back there?"

"It's just ... I was serious when I agreed to no more kids. But sometimes when I'm around my nephews, I wonder what it would be like to have my own son. It's just a fantasy I entertain sometimes. That's all. I reacted like that because I was just shocked. Kinda like when you won the lottery. I'm sure you've thought about it before, but you never thought you'd actually win. And then one random day, you did."

"Hmmm, that's a good example. So you don't resent me?"

"Sophia, come on."

"What? You know you hide things from me, so don't act like I'm crazy."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I swear the baby thing was strictly fantasy. I know IVF was rough. Even if I really wanted another baby, I'd never ask you to do that again."

"Okay."

"You know I always put your needs first."

"I understand, but I don't want you to feel like you can't have everything you want because of how I feel. We can revisit things like how you did with the money tree. I'm not a dictator, Luca!"

"I know! I'm not saying you are. And if I really want something, I'll say it, but this was not that."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

"Alright. What do you feel like eating? I'll cook tonight."

Seemed like even the idea of food caused my stomach to turn again.

"I don't know. I can't even think about eating right now. Make whatever you want."

"Okay. Sit tight."

She disappeared into the kitchen, and I sat there rubbing my queasy stomach. Desi came home shortly after, full of questions. She sought to befriend someone—someone I heavily suspected was a boy. Her comment about the child's indifference confirmed my suspicion; it was definitely a boy. Men. We're such idiots. I didn't want to call her out by explaining the potholes in male brains, so I told her sometimes sims were shy and didn't know how to behave around others. Also, some sims weren't great at understanding the hints we drop. I proposed making a big friendly gesture to make it clear she's interested in friendship.

She seemed satisfied with my answer and lingered for a moment. That would have been a good time to tell her about her little brother, but I couldn't do it. I needed more time to process the news myself. Besides, this wasn't the kind of news you ambush someone with just before dinner.

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #desiree amari murillo

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captianimarum · 6 hours ago

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Admittedly, though if only to himself, Nero wasn't certain of the statement that was offered freely to him. More alike than he knew? Family was family, blood was blood, genetics were genetics - - but as of yet his own consciousness largely refused to acknowledge the fact that they were rather alike. Perhaps it was just one of those things that would take its time to form, slowly blossom in the back of his mind until he had no choice but to sit and stew over it. For now - - he kept entirely silent on the matter and simply followed behind, silently thoughtful.

It's a struggle, though he would deny it verbally, to fly the distance in which they did - but he makes it and upon arrival chooses to mention naught about how exhausted the inside of his bones felt. Would it always be that way? Would he always feel as if his very blood was aflame when he attempted to defy gravity? He fuckin' hoped not.

"Probably for the best--- I'm a really shite swimmer." Credo had spent hours upon hours attempting to teach him as a boy, as a teen - - and though Nero could do enough to keep himself from drowning, he had never quite grasped a decent enough stroke for it to be considered swimming instead of disorganised flailing. It stings to remember, but he uses that pain to push himself onward.

He wonders what Credo would have thought of this situation - meeting Nero's biological father. He didn't doubt he'd have a few stern words to say, in the very least - -

The interior of the Ferry is familiar; countless times now had he sat there on the quiet journey to Redgrave and, doused in the weight of the world, did he sink into the deepest depths of his thoughts. Had he no company now, Nero would have likely fallen into that very same habit.

He sits, lets his eyes settle on the sights beyond the window and wonders just what to say.

"You know... when I was a little boy, I used to sit on the rocks near the pier and watch the Ferry come and go. I always used to dream of getting on it and travelling over the sea, and that when I got to the other side my family would meet me. First time I came over on the ferry after the shit that went down in Forrtuna, Dante met me there - - - called me a little scrub and said I needed a shower."

⚔ ────▪ ❛ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚉𝙴, 𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙾 . ❜ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ It's such a small statement, a throwaway in the wake of his son baring any feelings with him. He knows the weight of Nero's statement ; understands the implications and empathizes with it and him. He was quick to anger and alone once, too — and to think of everything lost in the wake of his choices was like being chained to the bottom of the sea . . . again. Vergil tries not to dwell on the statement too much, standing, holding out a hand to his son to help him up.

❛ But yes, we should go. Cake . . . And then whatever lies beyond. ❜ His wording is deliberate — an offer to extend what they have now, to remain in the company of one another for a little longer than the time it takes to bake pastries. To be let in. He only hopes the offer is not too subtle to go unnoticed, and is taken kindly. and even if it wasn't . . . Nero always knew that he was welcome at Devil May Cry. Vergil is certain that his younger twin would have made that well and clear several times over, now. The fact that he was now here, too, did not change that. He allows Nero the moment needed to prepare, and kicks off once he is, transforming in the air — taking to the skies is as easy as moving his wings to the breeze . . . but that doesn't change the route. Instead of heading for the sea, to fly over and back to the mainland, Vergil makes the decision to take the ferry, anyway. And in good time ; he touches down just as the second-to-last horn sounds, and quickly pays for both of their tickets ( not that Nero would have needed a ticket . . . he was certain the boy had free use of any service in Fortuna for as long as he lived, for the good that he has done for the island ). Still, it only feels right. ❛ You don't mind, do you ? ❜ His voice is . . . normal, even, but his eyes tell a different story. He had forgotten his lack of the Yamato, again. In the moment, so proud of Nero for trying to fly, and successfully flying some distance, it had been put out of his mind. His apprehension is as clear as the distant look in his eyes. A side of Vergil that Nero does not get to see often .❛ I'd forgotten how . . . long the flight from here to Red Grave can be. It would do no good to have you crash into the ocean. ❜ But his explanation sounds more like a concealed excuse, and a poor one at that. With a tightly locked jaw, he gestures politely, offering for Nero to go first just as the final horn sounds — only a few minutes to board, now. People around them, some lucky tourists, a few residents, and some others, are walking towards the small vessel, luggage and groceries and whatever else in their hands. But Vergil, curiously, does not seem to step on it just yet.

#True Heroism is Remarkably Sober and Undramatic. It is Not the Urge to Surpass but the Urge to Serve Others at Any Cost || Nero's Replies ||

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darabeatha · 1 year ago

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multiple sneks

#;a.sclepius #/I FEEL LIKE; WHENEVER HIS R.IYO VERSION RUNS; HE MAKES A 'takatakatakataka' sound #ITS LIKE A LIL CRAB RUNNING; U SEE HIM SPEEDING DOWN THE HALLWAYS #u pinch him by the hood and lift him up and he's still :running in the air:#just silly lil icons i have of him #also a.sclepius using a syringe for the chocolate making is such a funny though #I DUNNO WHY BUT;; it hit me more as a surprise when i got him on the g.acha than nyarju #bc n.yarju was obviously on the banner right; BUT THEN I GENUINELY HAD NO IDEA A.SCLEPIUS COULD DROP RANDOMLY?#i swear for some reason i thought i would have to do the lb to get him but im so glad he's here #and maybe bc i was somehow prepared for kittyjuna (even tho f.go gacha is never guaranteed rip)#i just felt it in my bones (?) that he would come #it was my j.una senses (delusional)

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uramakimochi · 2 months ago

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Batboys scenario:

YOU LOOSE CONTROL OF YOUR POWERS WHILE SLEEPING.

WARNINGS: Just fluff, no use of Y/N. Inspired by this thought of mine. R can fly but it's not explicitly said whether they're a Super/Kent or an alien. This should be gender neutral enough for everyone^^

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

BRUCE

Bruce entered the room with a yawn that he tried to cover with his hand, while slowly rotating his neck and chest to make his bones crack loudly.

The only thing he wanted to do was get into bed with you, hold you close and sleep forever. But he knew that all the love and devotion he felt for you would never be enough to free him from his duties as a vigilante, so the only thing he could do was enjoy to the fullest those moments that life allowed him to spend with you. One of which was a good rest together.

Bruce loved sleeping with you. There was no better feeling for him than coming home late after a patrol and hiding under the covers, wrapping his mighty arms around you and pulling you against his sturdy body, falling asleep lulled by your body heat.

But before he could already imagine how he would spend a beautiful night next to you, he had to stop on the threshold of the door when his eyes fell on the double bed. Or rather, who was above of it.

Because yes, you were there, exactly where he expected to find you, but you were not on the bed. You were literally floating above it, like a bee on a flower.

Bruce smiled amusedly, because honestly that was nothing new. That was something that often happened when you were asleep: entering the world of dreams was as if your powers merged with them and not being able to control them of your own will, sometimes you happened to rise into the air in the middle of the night. Sometimes you slipped away from Bruce's arms, but other times you even took him up with you.

But Bruce didn't care, he was used to it. And he would never blame you because that was just who you were. And he would always love you, for every virtue and every flaw.

So he approached you silently until he was at your side. Meanwhile, you continued to float above his head as if nothing had happened, clutching the pillow under one arm and your eyelids fluttering every now and then, surely because of the dream you were living in your mind.

"Sweetheart" he murmured softly, reaching up to gently pull the blanket that covered your body and that was floating with you. "Wake up my love"

After a few seconds you squinted and then finally opened your eyes in the darkness.

"Mhh" you moaned and your eyes landed on your husband's face. "Bruce... Hi, what is it?"

Bruce smiled comfortingly, moving his hand to your arm.

"Forgive me, i didn't mean to disturb you" he replied, running his warm palm back and forth along your arm. "You're floating again"

It was at that moment that despite your tiredness you realized how low his face was compared to yours and you pressed your lips together. "Oh..."

Your body slowly returned down to rest on the soft mattress and you adjusted your position to cover yourself, finally looking at your husband from below, as it was supposed to be.

"Thank you" you gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry"

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then walked around the bed to his side, sitting on the edge to take off his shoes and lie down under the covers.

"You have nothing to apologize for, i always tell you that" he reassured you as he lay down and you wasted no time in snuggling into his side. "You know i don't really care if you sleep mid air. I'd just prefer to fall sleep with you in my arms sometimes"

"I know, but i hate when it happens" you replied with a small pout.

You felt his strong arm wrap around your shoulders to hold you close and you closed your eyes, resting your head on his bicep, ready to go back to sleep. "Because i like falling asleep in your arms too"

Bruce smiled again, tilting his head to kiss your forehead one more time and watched you fall asleep again within minutes, lulled by his warmth and his sweet caresses that you had missed that night.

"I know my love"

DICK

Dick was the most affectionate of the boys and this meant that at every opportunity he would stick to you like a mussel and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whether it was for a simple nap together, when you were cooking or cleaning the house, while he was watching tv with you, in the shower, when you went out... You name it. He was always glued to you. And during the night he was no exception.

Even when the temperatures were the highest he would close his arms around your body and hold you to his chest as if you were a stuffed animal that comforted him from his nightmares. And you, somehow, always managed to fall asleep, no matter how glued he was to you.

But Dick was like that and there were just a few times that you told him to let go because that was just the way he showed his affection and you appreciated him for it.

And the fact that your boyfriend was clingy meant that whatever happened to you... Well, he was there to suffer it too.

Specifically, i'm talking about when your superpowers got out of control and while that almost never happened when you were awake, the same couldn't be said for when you were asleep. Because when you were dreaming it was like your body and mind were letting go and often it happened that without realizing it you found yourself floating in the middle of the night.

Now, Dick was used to your powers and all, but the first time he witnessed your 'sleepwalking flight' he felt a little taken aback. But he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Imagine the scene.

You and Dick were fast asleep (he was even snoring and almost drooling on your head) and of course his strong arms were around your body from behind you, holding you to his chest in a firm warm and affectionate hug even in your sleep.

At a certain point however, he had to open his eyes, awakened by that horrible feeling of a dry throat that screamed at him to get a fresh glass of water to quench his thirst. So Dick rubbed a hand over his eyes to wake up and reluctantly let go of your body to turn on the other side and get out of bed. But when he stretched his legs towards the floor...

Dick's eyes widened and he felt like his breath was taken away for a fraction of a second when he realized he wasn't lying on his soft bed but floating right above it, blanket included.

"Oh fuc- Woahh!"

And before he could react, he fell down with a cry. Luckily his fall was softened by the bed itself, but that didn't stop him from rolling onto the floor with a heavy thud. That and his scream were enough to wake you up too and after you woke up with a start, abruptly interrupting your dream, you fell too but your trajectory allowed you to land on the matress unlike your boyfriend.

Dick still sitting on the floor, groaned in pain and then he sharply turned to you.

"Baby!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What was that??"

The lamp on your nightstand turned on and then he heard you get off the bed and walk quickly to his side and then he saw you crouch down in front of him.

"Oh my god Dickie i'm so sorry!" you looked at him worriedly, placing one hand on his cheek and the other on his head, making him tilt it to see if there were any bruises. "Are you hurt??"

Dick waved a hand with a small, pained smile. "Nah, i'm fine. I've been through worse. Just... What just happened?"

You let out a small sigh and let yourself fall backwards, sitting on the floor. "My powers. It happens to me sometimes when i'm sleeping, especially when i'm having particularly weird dreams or nightmares. My parents told me i've been doing it since i was little"

He nodded in understanding. "Oh. I see"

You looked down, feeling sorry and embarrassed by what had happened.

"Forgive me, i forgot to tell you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, honey. Are you sure you're really okay?"

Dick nodded again, forgetting the pain to give you his classic dazzling smile. "It's okay, sweetheart, really. These are things i have to get used to if i want to be with someone with superpowers"

And you giggled fondly, leaning forward to give him a couple of affectionate kisses on the temple.

"I guess that's the price you have to pay for clinging to me all the time, huh?" you murmured against his skin and he placed his hands on your waist to keep you close to him.

"I guess it is"

JASON

Jason was big and bulky but he was a light sleeper and since he was also very protective of you, he was always alert in case something happened during the night.

In fact, the slow movement of his arm that was rising against his will was enough to disturb him from his sleep. Jason opened his eyes but did not worry about being possessed by some strange demon. He sighed when he saw what was happening next to him. Or rather, above him.

"Babyyy" he moaned with a heavy yawn, but he received no response from you who were still sound asleep.

Immediately the hand of his arm that was rising and sliding from its position around your back, reached out to grab your wrist before you could rise too high for him to reach while still lying down. When you felt his warm palm touch you, you woke up too and when you opened your eyes you saw Jason dragging you down towards him, making you return to his side in the same place where you had fallen asleep a few hours ago.

"Where did you think you were going mh?" your boyfriend asked, his voice still thick with sleep, wrapping his muscular arm around your back (again) and pulling you close.

"Sorry" you muttered slightly embarrassed in the darkness of the room, snuggling against his shoulder.

It wasn't that you were new to floating during the night, but it wasn't something you were always proud of in his presence.

"'S okay" he replied, tilting his head to nuzzle yours and plant a kiss on it, while he closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. "But if you want to go for a fly, at least let's do it together"

And you smiled, closing your eyes as well while your hand automatically went to rest on his chest.

"Sure"

TIM

Tim wasn't known for being a big sleeper. And you hated more than anything to be the one ruining the few hours of sleep he could afford, disturbing him with your powers when you started floating in the middle of the night without your control.

But Tim was a sweet soul and he always reassured you by telling you that it was not a bother for him if he slept in the air rather than on the bed. He would sleep anywhere, even on the floor and even for just five minutes, just to be with you.

"Are you really sure it's not a problem for you?" you asked again, looking at your boyfriend with uncertain eyes.

Tim lifted his head from your chest, returning your gaze with a sleepy one, already half asleep mostly thanks to the effect of your hand caressing his hair, while the other was resting on his back.

His arms dangled in the air falling on both sides of your body, while his legs remained comfortably resting on yours. Luckily Tim, even though he was well trained, didn't have a body as large as Jason or Bruce, otherwise he would have fallen to the ground.

"Babe" he replied and his exasperated look gave way to a slight smile. "For the umpteenth time, yes. It's not a problem"

"But what if you move and fall to the floor? Or what if I move and make you fall to the floor?"

"We're not that high up" Tim sighed, glancing at the bed below you and then looking back at you. "You're talking to Red Robin, if i fall i can handle it"

"But-"

Tim shushed you by leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips and of course you returned it, letting yourself go and forgetting your worries for a few seconds, while your hand in his hair slid down to his cheek.

"No more 'buts'. I promise you nothing will happen" he continued when he pulled away. "And you know i don't sleep much anyway, so if i were to fall i'd notice"

"Hmm" you muttered still uncertain. "Okay... If you're sure"

Tim gave you a smile and settled more comfortably, resting his head back on your chest and closing his eyes. One of your hands caressed his back with your fingertips and you rested your chin on his hair.

"But please, wake me up if something happens" you added and you felt him nod slowly against you.

"Mh, will do. 'Night babe"

"Goodnight Timmy"

DAMIAN

You and Damian were sleeping peacefully in your bed, him in front of you with an arm on your shoulders pulling you against his body and your arms tightly wrapped around his slim waist, while one of your legs was trapped between his.

Damian had fallen asleep lulled by your breaths against his collarbone, but like Jason he was always alert during sleep, no matter what time it was. In fact, when he suddenly felt your bodies start to rise in the air he slowly opened his eyes but he didn't panic or get scared, knowing perfectly well what was happening. And above all who was making it happen.

Damian laid his eyes on you with a loving gaze, admiring you despite the darkness. He found it funny that despite your intertwined bodies were literally floating a couple of meters away from the bed, you continued to sleep deeply as if nothing had happened. He even saw your lips curve upwards and he also smiled tenderly in turn, wondering who knows what you were dreaming of to smile like that.

Damian then noticed that you and him were getting closer and closer to the ceiling as you floated upwards. But before your head or his could hit it, he raised an arm to rest his hand against the ceiling, stopping the movement in mid-air. The other hand that was on your shoulders instead, slid up until it reached your head, covering it with his palm in a protective way.

Oh if you had been awake to see it your heart would have fluttered with joy and Damian knew that too. He cared for you in every way, both with the little things and the more heroic ones, as he had learned in his life as Robin.

Due to the impact of his palm against the ceiling it was as if your body bounced like a balloon and went back down, continuing to drag Damian with you until you finally stopped in mid-air. He reached out to your face to stroke your forehead with his thumb.

"Beloved" he murmured.

Just hearing him call your name once, accompanied by the lovely feeling of his finger rubbing against your skin, woke you up. You squeezed your eyes and then opened them, looking at your boyfriend with the typical expression of a child just disturbed from his nap.

"Mmh, what is it Dami?"

Damian gave you a smile while continuing to caress you, while you felt your eyelids still drooping from tiredness.

"You're doing it again" he simply said.

There was silence for a few seconds. And then without saying anything both of your bodies began to descend, until you gently rested on the bed again. Damian felt you wiggle in his arms while you tried to get comfortable against him and even closer if possible, looking for his body heat.

"Sorry" you muttered, pressing your face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "I promise i won't do it again... 'Swear..."

And a few seconds later your breathing against his skin became heavier. You had fallen asleep again, without any difficulty.

Damian's emerald eyes looked at you amused while his hand found its favorite place on the back of your head, his fingers caressing you affectionately. Because that wasn't the first time you told him you wouldn't do it again and he knew it wouldn't be the last either.

"I count on it beloved"

DUKE (i added him too because i felt bad leaving him out😔)

The alarm clock on his nightstand went off and he reached out to turn it off. When Duke opened his eyes and turned to you with a sleepy smile, he thought he would find your angelic still sleeping face to greet him. But his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he noticed that you were not on your side of the bed.

"Uh... Weird" he thought.

Because he was usually the first one of you to wake up and it always took him a good few minutes to get you out of bed. Could that be the first time you had gotten up before him and had already made breakfast? Was it perhaps a special day?

Duke smiled amusedly, but then he noticed another detail. Your pillow was in its right place, but the large blanket you shared was gone.

"That's why i was cold last night..." the man muttered, after realizing that he had spent the rest of the night without a blanket. But why?

A familiar yawn from above his head caught his attention and Duke looked up. And when he saw your body floating above the bed, his heart skipped a beat.

You stirred, awakened by your boyfriend's alarm clock and the famous missing large blanket slipped from your body, falling onto the bed beneath you. You then turned to look down at him with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Good morning"

Duke let out a small, scared cry and jumped up from the bed. "L-Love! What are you doing up there!?"

You looked at him in confusion and lowered your head, finally noticing the distance from your side of the bed. "Oh... Oh crap!"

With his heart still pounding, Duke watched you calmly slide down until you were back on the ground. You then gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Um, surprise?"

Duke walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Are you okay??" he asked still scared, looking you up and down. "I thought you were... Possessed or something!"

You chuckled, waving a hand. "What are you talking about, Duke? It was just my powers"

He seemed to relax. He knew about your powers, but he never expected to see something like that.

"Oh..." then he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. It was unexpected, you almost gave me a heart attack"

You gave him a sorry smile, taking his hand to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you. I completely forgot to tell you that sometimes while i sleep i lose control of my powers and start flying. It's been happening to me since i was little. Imagine what would happen if i slept in the open air"

He also finally laughed and he hugged you and you felt his body relax under your palms.

"How about i make breakfast to make up for it, mh?" you then asked and he nodded with a big smile.

"I'd really like that"

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kingkaisen · 2 years ago

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“WELL, WE SHOULD PROBABLY FUCK, RIGHT?”

♡ — SUMMARY; you & gojo are both sealed away in the prison realm. with nothing else to do, you might as well start fucking, right?

♡ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), missionary, degrading nickname, best friends to friends with benefits, bickering, slightly jealous gojo, you & gojo are both the strongest sorcerers in the world.

♡ — A/N; based on this drabble (: I love this man sm, I’d do his taxes for him btw // also, pls don’t repost my gif!

♡ — WC; 3k

“This is all your fault, Satoru.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, so I was distracted,” Gojo kicked up his feet, placing his black boots across a pile of dusty skeleton heads as if he was at home, relaxing on his plush couch, and not trapped inside of the prison realm. “If I remember correctly – and I do remember correctly because it happened thirty seconds ago – you were distracted too. Who knew that seeing your dead classmate would throw you off?”

“Throw me off?” You frowned, moving around a pile of bones to sit down somewhat comfortably. “You nearly passed out. I saw it with my own eyes, Satoru.”

“Oh,” Giving a small chuckle, Gojo tilted his head a bit as he smirked. “So you could see that, but you couldn’t see the weird guy with the two short ponytails almost obliterate you?”

“I don’t remember that. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See this?” Gojo lifted a skull pressing against his right leg, and he dangled it in front of you. “This would’ve been you if it wasn’t for me.”

“You dumbass,” you paused, rolling your eyes, “because of you, we’re both gonna end up exactly like that skeleton. You do realize we’re trapped in here, right? No way out?”

“Calm down. Someone will save us. I have faith, don’t you?”

“Hell no,” a small sigh fell from between your lips, “and you know what? I hope we don’t get saved. The fact that we let ourselves get captured like this is embarrassing. I absolutely cannot leave this stupid box and look another sorcerer in the eye after this. I’d rather die.”

“You’re pretty dramatic,” Gojo sighed. “I hear you, though. We really screwed this up. We should’ve picked different careers. I could’ve been a really nice basketball coach.”

“I would’ve been a coffee shop owner.” Distracted by your own what-if daydreams, you mistakenly leaned back on a pile of skeletons, nearly jumping out of your skin once you remembered that you were indeed lying on a pile of skeletons. “Shit! I gotta get outta here, I can’t do this.”

“Just calm down, it isn’t so bad.” As Gojo adjusted himself, he grunted. “Remember when you dressed up as a skeleton for Halloween? You manifested this.”

“I should’ve never taught you that word,” frowning, you stood up, glancing around the dark inner workings of the prison realm. “How can you relax in a place like this? Aren’t you uncomfortable? Or at least a little bit scared?”

“Hmm, no.” Gojo grinned.

“I shouldn’t have asked. You’re too stupid to know when to be scared.”

“Ouch,” Gojo said dramatically, a hint of amusement coating his words. “Ya know, I’m glad you’re not a coffee shop owner. You’d probably toss random shit in someone’s coffee, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, please shut up.”

“You shut up,” Gojo retorted childishly.

Deep breathing exercises had certainly come in handy during moments such as this one.

Although years upon years had passed since you and Gojo were kids, running around in Halloween costumes and splitting popsicles, it felt as if no time had passed at all whenever you two held a conversation.

Even so, how exactly did it come to this?

Gojo never truly had an ordinary childhood — you were the only normal thing in his life at the time — but you grew up rather unextraordinary.

A normal girl, one who went to school and did her classwork before sneaking off to a secluded lake in the late afternoons with Gojo, skipping rocks and eating sandwiches together.

It was a beautifully plain life. One that was ripped away from you by curses and sorcery.

The only silver lining that truly existed was your old classmates; the dear friends you made once you attended Jujutsu High all those years ago, and in particular, a dark-haired, mellow guy.

“Must’ve been really hard for you,” Gojo suddenly mumbled, “seeing Suguru again. You two had gotten pretty close, right? Up until he . . . left?”

“What’s up with the mumbling? Now isn’t the time for you to get jealous.”

“I’m not,” Gojo mumbled once again, turning his head away from you. “It’s not like that was the real Suguru anyway. Our Suguru is gone for good.”

“Yeah.” The sad tone of your voice is what grabbed Gojo’s attention. One thing that was stronger than his jealousy over you and Geto’s old fondness for one another was his deep concern for you.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gojo smiled softly, facing you once again.

“Huh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I said come here.”

Hesitantly, you walked over to where Gojo was stretched out among the bones, sitting down on the ground beside him as best as you could with all the skeletons around. As you looked at him, it was rather impossible to understand how he could relax so comfortably.

“Come closer,” he held his arm out, waving you over.

“Why? What for?”

“‘Cause I wanna hold you, so just come here.” Suddenly, Gojo leaned up a bit, grabbing ahold of your wrist before pulling you on top of him.

With his other hand, he gripped the back of your thigh, moving your leg over his hips as he leaned back. He sighed with contentment once you were fully on top of him. Releasing your wrist, the white-haired man touched the side of your face, slowly guiding your head to his chest. “See? Isn’t this better than laying on those skeletons?”

“I guess so,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Why are you so tense?” Gojo guided his hand across one of your shoulders, and he started to rub it.

“Hard to relax when you’re trapped in the prison realm,” you paused. “Not to mention I’m literally laying on top of you.”

“So? We hug and stuff all the time.”

“This is more than hugging, and we’ve barely done that,” you smiled softly. “Kinda nice, though. You’re pretty warm.”

“You’re pretty warm too. And really soft.” With his other hand — the one that never left your thigh — Gojo slowly stroked you, gliding his hand up and down, but not daring to touch your ass just yet.

But he wanted to. Desperately.

Suddenly, Gojo shifted his body, squirming just a bit.

“You okay?” You questioned, lifting your head off of his chest to look at his blindfolded face. “Want me to get off?”

“No, not at all, everything’s fine,” Gojo lied.

Truth be told, his dick was starting to harden in his pants, and he could barely stand it.

“Oh, okay,” laying your head back down on Gojo’s chest, you spoke once again. “Satoru? What are we supposed to do until someone saves us? Just sit here and wait?”

“No, that’s a bad idea,” Gojo said.

“Then what should we do?”

Before he answered, Gojo placed his finger underneath his blindfold, pulling at it playfully.

“Well, we should probably fuck, right?”

It took a moment for Gojo’s sinful words to fully sink in. Upon realizing that you had heard him correctly, your head snapped up, your eyes widening with utter shock.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart,” Gojo smirked. “No need to make such a big deal out of it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but . . .” You paused, darting your eyes across the vast, skeleton-filled, dark space. “Here? Of all places?”

Gojo shifted once again. He gripped his pants, but he truthfully wanted to grip his cock instead.

“I’d fuck you anywhere,” Gojo said lowly. “I just think it’s time we finally fuck each other, don’t you?”

Suddenly, his large hand gripped the back of your head, and your best friend shoved his lips against yours.

“Hmm,” Gojo moaned softly, kissing you passionately with those sweet, feathery lips of his. Kissing you — finally, after so many years of dreaming about it — was a magical experience. Before, he never believed in soulmates or seeing fireworks when kissing someone — until now.

“Shit, you’re so . . .” His words trailed off as he pulled away, his warm breath patting against your pretty face.

“Satoru,” you mumbled against his lips, “I didn’t know you thought of me this way. I didn’t think that I’d be someone you’d wanna sleep with.”

“Really? Why’s that?” As Gojo spoke, he took off his blindfold, staring at you — then your lips — with those vibrant, ocean-blue eyes of his.

“We’ve barely even hugged,” when you frowned, just a little bit, Gojo wanted to kiss your pouty lips over and over again until his mouth was sore.

God, he wanted you in ways he couldn’t even begin to vocalize.

But he’d certainly try.

“And I thought I was being obvious this entire time,” Gojo paused. “Whenever we would fight together, side by side, do you know how hard it was to concentrate? All I could ever focus on in the middle of battle was trying not to let myself get distracted by you. Hearing you grunt and groan, just watching the way you’d move. I’ve always wanted to take you home with me once the fight ended, toss you on my bed, and find out all the noises you can make; see how loud you can get. I just gotta hear you moan for me, baby. I have to.”

Running his thumb over your soft mouth, he slightly pulled down on your bottom lip, all before he leaned in again, moving his thumb away and replacing it with his lips.

This time, when he kissed you, he didn’t hold back. That sweet tongue of his entered your mouth as if it was on a mission, and he swirled his tongue around yours, enjoying every little surprised noise you made just as much as he enjoyed tasting your delicious mouth. He’d kiss you forever if he could.

A small part of him hoped that the two of you would never get released, and he could spend eternity with his tongue sloppily flicking against yours.

A pair of large hands suddenly gripped your ass. When you gasped, pulling away from Gojo’s lips, he smiled. You were just too cute.

Who knew that the prison realm would actually turn out to be heaven?

“You’re so tense,” Gojo said with a hint of a teasing tone. “Has no one ever touched you like this before?”

“People have — I mean, I’ve done stuff before, it’s just . . .”

When you failed to finish your sentence, Gojo took it upon himself to finish it for you.

“It’s just that no one’s ever made you feel good before,” his sly grin only grew. “Right?”

“I-” you stammered, “that’s none of your business.”

“Lay down.”

“Why?” You asked, your curiosity at its peak.

“I wanna eat you out, sweet girl. Now lay down.” Gojo’s hands moved from your ass to your hips, and he lifted you off of his lap and laid you down next to him.

He then flipped over on top of you, giving you another kiss — a little, quick one — before he started to impatiently unbutton your pants.

“What kinda best friend would I be if I just let you keep living your life without having had a proper orgasm?” He said, shrugging off your bottoms. “Told you not to waste any time with all those shitty guys. You should’ve been with me from the start.”

“Yeah, yeah,” rolling your eyes, you sat up on your elbows, looking down at the sorcerer between your thighs, who slowly pulled down your underwear and held your legs open. “You’re not the first guy who has said a bunch of hot things to me, but then failed to deliver-”

You were interrupted by your own unexpected gasp, as it was elicited from your throat thanks to Gojo’s skillful tongue, which had swiped right across your clit.

He was such a tease; that tongue of his could work wonders. And it did. He flicked at your clit rapidly, and during every quick stroke, his eyes never glanced away from your face.

You started to squirm, but he held onto your thighs, convinced that absolutely nothing in this world could make him want to stop eating your pussy. Not when it tasted so undeniably good.

“Had no idea this pretty pussy was so damn delicious,” he pulled away, mumbling against your wet folds. “Should’ve done this a long time ago, baby.”

When he dived back into your pussy, he licked and sucked, sucked and licked. Good god, you tasted amazing. So, so amazing. He couldn’t help but moan as he made a mess of your pussy; your juices and his spit decorating his face.

“Oh my god, Satoru,” you moaned, “I’m close-”

Once again, your words were cut off by your own uncontrollable moans. That sweet orgasm was brewing right in the pit of your stomach.

You expected him to pull away once you warned him about your approaching orgasm, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed his calloused fingertips into your plush thighs even harder, and he ate your pussy as messily as possible. Licked at it more rapidly. Sucked on your clit more hungrily.

“Cum in my mouth,” he moaned out in between licks. “Don’t hold back; I want it all. Cum in my mouth right now.”

“Gojo!” You called out. Last warning.

Instead of pulling away, he reached forward, grabbing ahold of your soft tits. With his fingers, he flicked at your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

And with that, you arched your back off of the hard ground, moaning his name over and over again like a sinner praying for forgiveness.

Gojo lapped up your juices as if he was dying of thirst. He’ll be damned if he missed even a single drop of it.

“Damn it,” he said as he detached his lips from your swollen clit. “I wanna eat you out over and over again, but I gotta fuck you. I just gotta know what it’s like to be inside of you.”

Gojo sat up on his knees. He unbuttoned his pants. When he pulled them down, along with his boxers, his hard dick flung out.

You couldn’t help but stare at the mesmerizing large dick. The tip of it was red and swollen, precum dripping from his aching hole. Two long, thick veins ran along his member.

“You’re so big,” you stated, darting your eyes between his hard cock and handsome face.

“It’s okay,” Positioning himself in between your legs, he said, “I’ll make it fit, baby.”

When he pressed the tip of his dick against your awaiting hole, it felt like he was stepping through the gates of heaven.

One hand was placed next to your head, holding himself up, while his other hand gripped your hip.

His dick slid inside of your soaking wet pussy as if it belonged there; pieces of a puzzle coming together. The sinful moan that fell from between his lips was beautiful.

He couldn’t help it.

Not when your pussy was so tight, wet, and warm.

“Hmm, hey baby?” Gojo whispered, his warm breath patting against your ear, soft white hair tickling the side of your face. “You called me Gojo instead of Satoru earlier when I was eating your pussy. I want you to moan it again for me, over and over again. Can you do that?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Such a sweet girl,” he gave the shell of your ear a quick little lick. “So, so sweet.”

He didn’t wait too long to start thrusting in and out of you once your pussy had adjusted to his size. He simply couldn’t. Not when you felt so utterly amazing.

With his lips still close to your ear as he fucked you, the chatty man whispered all sorts of dirty things. And it only made you moan even louder.

“I could fuck you just like this forever. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grunted, slamming himself inside of you at a quicker pace. “Sorry if I’m being too rough. I can’t help it, baby. Your pussy’s driving me crazy, just like I knew it would. I knew my best friend would feel this good. Who else other than me would know what to do with a pussy like this? Hm?”

“Gojo,” you called out, gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Gojo, I can’t- I’m gonna cum again!”

“Already?” He smirked, pulling away from your ear, his face only a few inches away from yours. “Gonna cum all over my dick? Make a mess?”

You didn’t respond — you couldn’t respond — not when he rhythmically fucked you like a doll, the tip of his dick reaching all the right spots inside of you.

“Shit,” Gojo suddenly groaned. “Think I’m gonna cum too, baby. I can’t hold it . . . Can’t fucking hold it much longer. I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff that pretty pussy with my cum. No one else will get to.”

“Please do it,” you stammered out with a whine, struggling to speak from the way your body was being pounded into. “P-Please!”

Suddenly, Gojo felt your pussy tighten around his cock. A wave of pure bliss washed over you, making your toes curl as you moaned his name in broken syllables.

The prettiest tears started to fall from your eyes. Gojo kissed them away.

His own orgasm was approaching quickly, building up in his lower stomach, dick, balls, and even his thighs.

“I’m so close — I’m right there, baby. I’m right there. Shit — I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum right inside of you, baby — there’s so much of it. I’m cumming-”

Feeling your cum coat his cock as your pussy milked him pushed him right over the edge. He moaned so loudly, it would have been entirely unsurprising if someone could have heard it from outside of the box.

He shot ropes upon ropes of warm, thick, pearly cum inside of you. His dick throbbed with every pulse, spilling every last drop of his semen into your stuffed hole.

“Baby,” Gojo whined lowly, attempting to catch his breath. “I didn’t think I’d ever stop cumming. You drive me crazy.”

“Can we go again?” Looking into his eyes with a pleading glance, you said, “I need more, Gojo, make me cum again. Please?”

“Did I just turn my best friend into my little slut?” Smirking, Gojo leaned down, kissing your lips once again. It was his favorite thing to do. “I’ll make you cum as many times as you want, sweetheart. We might be here for a while, so why not?”

Suddenly, Gojo lifted you, switching your positions until you were sitting right on top of him, his dick still inside of you.

“The prison realm doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you grinned.

Gripping your hips, Gojo’s eyes scanned over your beautiful body, admiring the perfect view as you started to ride him.

Perhaps, he would have to thank Kenjaku someday.

🏷: @allofffmypeaches @manjiroswifo @yourusernames @armani78 @darkphoenix3432 @komonika

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yourbleedingh3art · 1 year ago

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Men don’t think they can teach me anything so they don’t love me , I reject the presence of paternalism when it presents itself as egalitarian , balanced loving

#blog post #Am i too paternalistic in an effort to be loving ? and is it felt so similarly as thorny?#My father loves me even though he thinks im invulnerable #He can’t possibly believe that #Im flesh and bone and short and narrow #Maybe my speech is sometimes strong but i am surprised people think different things about me than I think about myself #Sometimes people see good in me I haven’t come to agree with yet #He said it seemed like I always knew what I was doing #and Maybe this is even why he loved me #but when I told my dad he said that #my dad knew just what he meant #why are these men who I love slash love me in such agreement about me #Is it true that I’ve been known #is it true that I’ve been discovered #even by men who I wish still would love me #And does my mother love me #im calling out for her now too #im calling out for all my representatives #to tell me if you live through this #How can I have a night like this and then a tomorrow morning??#and it’s every night #Last therapy session I said I loved crying #I am crying right now

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homeofthelonelywriter · 7 months ago

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Simon hated the tapping out ceremony. Ever since he first had to partake in one, he despised it. With no family and very few friends, he was usually the last on the field, waiting until one of his superiors would tap him out. But he couldn’t skip them either.

So there he was. The sun was beating down on the hundreds of soldiers lined up in neat little rows, standing at attention while they waited for their loved ones. And they came quickly. One soldier after the other was tapped out by their parents, siblings, spouse, and sometimes even children. But he stayed still, watching the happy reunions out of the corner of his eyes. Watching the tears and hugs and kisses. He envied the others; he was jealous of what they had, and he didn’t. But Simon had always been good at following orders, so he didn’t move, barely even blinked as he was surrounded by happiness, while he drowned in his own sorrow.

After an hour, there was only one other soldier left. Simon had barely interacted with him, but he knew his face. And just when Simon thought he wouldn’t be the only one without someone to tap him out this time, a crowd of eight people moved toward the soldier. At the front was an older-looking woman, her brown hair streaked with grey and lines on her face, indicating her age. Around her were people of all ages and genders.

“My son!” The woman let out a sob as she finally threw her arms around the soldier’s neck, causing the man to chuckle, as he hugged her back. “I missed you too, mama.”

One by one, he talked to the people surrounding him, hugged them, and kissed them. Simon couldn’t help but watch, bile rising in his throat as jealousy threatened to overtake him. And as he watched, he couldn’t help but imagine himself in the soldier’s stead. Surrounded by a happy, loud, and loving family. People who were happy to see him. Nowadays, the only people he could call family were the guys from the 141, and they were away on a mission. Still, in his mind, the scene played out. His mother, smiling, rushing toward him. Followed by his brother and his wife, carrying his nephew.

The daydream was interrupted by someone walking toward him. He expected it to be his superior, there to finally release him from the nightmare. But it wasn’t.

A young woman took timid steps in his direction. Her eyes, bright but filled with sadness. Not her own sadness, though, it was sadness she felt for him. He didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t blink. She came to a stop in front of him, gazing up with a frown.

“Is someone coming?” Simon hesitated before giving an almost invisible shake of his head. She gasped, it was quiet and he barely heard it, but he felt it. In every bone, he felt her sadness and the sorrow she carried for him. Slowly, as if not to startle him, she lifted her hand, until it was inches away from his chest. “Is…is this okay?” When he gave a slight nod, she gently pressed her hand against his chest, finally tapping him out.

A breath he didn’t realize he had been holding escaped him as he finally turned to properly look at the woman. She was still gazing up at him, a soft smile now replacing the frown on her face.

“Thank you.” She nodded in response before glancing back at her family. When she looked back at Simon, she looked determined. “We’re going out to eat dinner if you’d like to join us?” Simon was about to decline when someone called out to him.

“Oi! Ghost!” He looked up and saw the soldier, now facing him, an arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder. “Let’s go; my mom says dinner’s on us!” Without waiting for a response, he turned around and started walking toward the car park, his entire family in tow. Simon kept looking after him until a soft, small hand slipped into his own. He glanced down and found the woman smiling up at him.

“Come, my mom doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” And with those words, the woman gently led him to follow her family.

Part 2

A/N: This will be a two-parter. I hope you liked it!

#ghost #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #cod #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #fanfiction #angst

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lilaccmilk · 8 months ago

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i just read your "men who look like they havent felt the touch of a woman"

imagine those same men coming from mere grinding

all clothes still on

and the whimpering would go crazyyyyyy

Right so *blushes while trying to act nonchalant* (let’s be honest, not a single nonchalant bone in my body.)

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It was a day off for you both, you were straddling his lap, his lips on yours. Kissing you with such a fervour, it was as if he’d die if he didn’t feel your lips on his. Your hand raked through his hair.

You clothed cunt just above his bulge, grinding down on him. You can hear his breathy moans and whimpers, the sounds only spurring you on to grind harder. You left kisses and hickeys on his neck, kissing his jaw, lightly biting his Adam’s apple.

Baby, please need to- fuck- need to be -hah- inside you. C’mon love, please?

“Now now, be a good boy for me, yeah? You can do that right?” You say against his lips, in that sickly sweet voice of yours. His hands reaching up to hold your hips, to grind you down harder. His breathing heavier, his head falling back. And soon enough, you feel a wet patch against your inner things and cunt, you look down to see his pants, drenched.

A look of surprise flashes through your eyes, before you giggle, “Aww, did you come from this alone?” His face flushes red as he hides his face in your chest. But you aren’t finished, instead you pull at his hair, urging him to look at you, “You can give me one more, yeah?” All he can do is nod breathlessly.

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The moment when I close my eyes All I see is red lights- Red Lights // Bang Chan, Hyunjin

Ethan Landry, Sub!Miguel O’Hara, Simon Aumar, Harry Potter, Yuta Okkotsu, Choso Kamo, Tyler Galpin, Bucky Barnes +your favs!

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no-144444 · 2 months ago

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the oscars- o.piastri

꩜ summary: you bring your own oscar to the oscar's!

꩜ pairing: married! oscar piastri x actress! fem! reader

꩜ a/n: just realised i never posted this and it has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and a half ish lol

I want you to come with me.

Those words had run through his head like a fucking jack-hammer for weeks. What did that even entail? Acquiring a tux, sure. He could do that. Learn all the names of the people he could potentially meet, any celebrities or old co-stars he’d probably met but didn’t remember. Again, he could do that. Sit beside you all night and let you be your wonderful self as he got a first class seat and bragging rights about the fact that he was yours, he did that all day everyday.

So why did this feel so different? He’d been to award shows before. Not the award show, but motorsports ones. You’d come as his date. The world knew about you two. He’d gone to the BAFTAs with you one year. He should be fine. He knows he’s just there to hold your hand all night and make sure you don’t forget to eat something, but this just feels… different. This was the Oscars. The one night all of Hollywood steps out in their very best, hoping to get something back. And you were nominated in 3 categories.

“Fix your bowtie,” Hattie fussed over him as he rolled his eyes. You’d even invited his whole family. You weren’t super close with yours and they hadn’t really supported your career, but the Piastri’s had. Nicole went to every premiere you offered her, sometimes flying last minute just to be there to support you. He remembered how touched you’d been when she showed up at your Cannes debut, you called him crying that night, not even knowing what to do with yourself because you thought it was just so nice. You were 14 then, but you were 24 now, and you weren’t just his girlfriend, you were his wife. You were officially part of the family, even though you had been from the moment he’d brought you home. He started playing with his ring, a nervous habit he’d picked up since getting married.

“It is fixed,” he snapped back as she fiddled with it. “Mum said it looked fine-”

“I wasn’t looking at you when I said that!” she called from the other room. Oscar rolled his eyes again.

“Your eyes are on swivels today,” Mae teased, looking up from her phone. Oscar fought back rolling them again, and instead went for a scoff.

“I’m the only reason you guys are even coming,” he scoffed, Hattie still fixing his tie. Mae’s jaw dropped in offence.

She gasped. “Excuse you! I think Y/n would still invite us even if you guys got a divorce.”

A shiver went up his spine at that thought. Leaving you? He couldn’t do it. He knew in his bones he’d adore you until he was old and grey, and probably a while after that too.

“She definitely would,” Eddie added, walking in. “Plus, she’s dressed now, if you want to see her.”

Oscar tried to pull away from Hattie, but he just got choked by his bowtie, resulting in a fit of coughs and a gaggle of laughter from his sisters.

He heard a chuckle he knew all too well and he turned his head. You were radiant. A burgundy formal gown, your hair exactly the way you loved it, and that wonderful look in your eyes. The one he saw when he woke up next to you. The one that made him blush no matter how long you’d been together. “You alright there?” you questioned.

He chuckled and Hattie finally finished with his bowtie, so he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you off the ground- just slightly. You grinned against his lips and he felt the panic that had been building completely subside. You pulled back as your feet reached the ground again, and chuckled. “Do I have lipstick?” he asked, a question he asked most days. You nodded, but Mae got up to take a photo, giggling at her brother with you. It didn’t bother him. You finally just wiped it off and smiled at him.

“What do you think?” you asked, pulling back and giving him a spin. You showed off the low back and he knew he’d be ripping this dress off of you tonight. He swore the breath was knocked from his lungs every time you looked at him, but truly, you were breathtaking.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Oh yeah?” you smirked. He nodded.

“Oh yeah.”

The Red Carpet was as overwhelming as usual, but he enjoyed watching his sisters interact with the few fans of theirs that were there. He watched you with so much love and pride in his eyes, so much so that Tim had to nudge him to remember to walk on and not just stand in the back of your photos looking at you lovingly. When you finally finished up, you grabbed his hand as he led you into the auditorium.

“You still have my speeches?’ you questioned. He tapped his chest, signalling that it was in his breast pocket. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he smiled back. “Forever.”

As soon as your moment began, it ended, because Nicole pulled you away to go talk to people and he fucked off to the dinner table. He watched as you worked the room, animatedly speaking to people as he watched on from his seat at the table, thoroughly enjoying his food.

It was his dad who pulled him out of his daze, asking how he was feeling.

“I’m fine,” he nodded, only slightly lying.

Chris smiled. “She’s going to win ‘em, I bet you.”

“She will,” Oscar nodded. “Her work has been incredible this year.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled. “I cried for three days over the Outrun.”

Oscar laughed out loud as his dad shook his head. “I know what you mean.”

Just then, Oscar caught your eye from the other side of the ballroom and you smiled at him, waving. He waved back. You were a vision in burgundy. He swore to go he was going to get heart palpitations from how beautiful you were.

“Starting soon now,” Tim clapped his hands on Oscar’s shoulders. “Better be ready with those acceptance speeches.”

Chris smiled at Tim. “Took the words out of my mouth,” he chuckled. “Also have to practice your shocked face. Even though we all know she’s going to win every single one of them,” Chris tapped his leg. “Like how she pretends to be shocked when you win.”

Oscar laughed, his cheeks going red. Why was he being embarrassed by his own father and step-father at the Oscars right now? He wanted you back, you could always calm them down, make them less… whatever they were.

“Busy?” you asked, coming up to the table, your question directed at him. He stood up immediately.

“Not at all,” he shook his head, the boys behind him chuckling like schoolgirls. He took your hand and you led him to the foot of the stage, squeezing his hand.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, leaning to his shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”

“I'm so proud of you,” he smiled, his hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. He loved this. These quiet moments between all the hustle and bustle of your own lives. The room melted away behind you as you both stared at the stage you hoped you’d end up on tonight, but he knew you would. “I’ll always come.”

You chuckled. “You said cum.”

He rolled his eyes, the soft moment between the two of you, now abruptly over due to his choice of words. He looked down at you and you laughed at his unimpressed stare. “I love you?” you offered, cupping his cheek.

“I guess I love you too,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours gently, but quickly- as to not get lipstick all over his mouth.

“And the nominees are; Anora, written by Sean Baker. The Brutalist, written by Brady Corbet, Mona Fastvold. A Real Pain, written by Jesse Eisenberg. , September 5, written by Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum; co-written by Alex David. The Substance, written by Y/n Y/l/n,” the crowd cheered and he felt your hand squeeze his just a little tighter. “And the winner is… Anora, written by Sean Baker!”

Despite the loss, you stood and clapped for him. Oscar joined you, though he thought you should’ve probably won. You both sat back down as his speech began and he took your hand again. “You alright?”

You nodded beside him, your eyes fixed to Sean and his speech. “There’s still like 4 hours left, don’t worry.”

He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your hand. Ever the positive person.

“And the nominees are; Anora, Sean Baker. The Brutalist, David Jancso. Conclave, Nick Emerson. The Outrun, Y/n Y/l/n. Wicked, Myron Kerstein,” you tensed beside him. “And the winner is… Y/n Y/l/n, The Outrun!”

And the room stood for you. He felt like he was in slow motion. You both stood up at the same time, a bright smile on your face (he was sure he looked ridiculous), and you turned to him and you hugged him.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He smiled back, nodding.

“You fucking did it,” he cheered as he pulled the speech out of his pocket. “Go accept it.”

You nodded and started your descent down the stairs. The entirety of Hollywood was on their feet for you. You’d been working in the industry since you were a kid. Everyone knew how wonderful you were. Only he got to see it everyday. He watched, pride practically spilling from every pore as you stood up on that stage, taking the award in your hand, the sheet of paper in your hand. You looked up, a teary smile on your lips. “Wow,” you breathed out, looking at the room, but your eyes immediately met Oscar’s, and you both smiled again. “Hello, and thank you,” you started. “Umm… alright, speech- yes!” you unfolded the piece of paper in your hand and took a deep breath. “Well… first of all, I’d like to thank the academy, because this-” you held up your award. “Is incredible. And next, I’d like to thank my family. Nicole, Tim, Chris, Hattie, Eddie, Mae,” Oscar was already tearing up, and he was sure his mom was at the floodgates stage of it all. “You’ve been so incredibly kind to me over the past decade. You took me in when I was just a random 14 year old your son or brother was dating, and you gave me a family, and I'll always be grateful. Next, I’d like to thank my husband-” he felt a tear fall down his cheek and he knew there were about twenty cameras on him. There were a few cheers from the crowd. “- Oscar, you’ve made me insanely happy, and you’re my everything. But you’re also the only person I’ll ever let in my editing room. I love how curious you were at the start, and now, how effortlessly you help me. Truly, this is half yours-” you chuckled, and so did he. “No matter what. Whether you were coming in from a race weekend, totally exhausted, or just come back from a run, you’ll sit beside me in silence and help me make it all work. I don’t think you understand how much that means to me, so, thank you. I love you all, thank you!” you finished off, just wiping the small tear that had fallen away, as the crowd rose for you again. Oscar was a goner, tears falling freely as he tried to wipe them away. God, you were too kind. He adored you.

The night ended at 3am, you walked away with two Oscar awards, and one Oscar. He was grinning the whole time, too. Couldn’t stop. You won Best Editing and Best Supporting Actress. His family were elated and you giggled on the way back tot he hotel as you watched videos of them react to you winning, since they weren't sitting beside you.

Both you and Oscar were exhausted, so you fell into bed, immediately tangling with each other and knocking out.

He ran a hand through your hair as he lazily closed his eyes. "Y/n?"

You hummed against his skin, sign enough that you were slightly conscious.

"I adore you," he whispered, the silence of the room seeming even quieter in the dark. You looked up at him through tired eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

"I feel it," you smiled. "And I love you too."

Best night ever.

mclaren masterlist

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whosashan · 3 months ago

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hello! good day to youuu, can i make a request for the lads men? in which reader is not the mc and here's the prompt: having to beg them to do something with you then seeing them doing it with mc willingly, sorry english is not my first language but pleaaaseeee 😭 i love some angst.

Bitter

Pt. 2

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Watching the one you love partake in what you once pleaded to share—a quiet betrayal—feels like an arrow through the heart, swift and merciless. (angst, no comfort)

A/N: Thank you for the request, it came out more as a drabble. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

What a bitter, gutting thing it was—to stand in the shadows and watch him shine for someone else. To see the light in his eyes, the easy laughter, the quiet devotion as he did for her what he had never done for you.

The one thing you once begged for. The one thing he had denied you.

But not her. Never her.

She was fate’s beloved, the one woven from the same celestial thread as him, bound to him in ways you never could be. You had always told yourself to be rational, to be understanding. Xavier came with a past. He came with baggage.

And inside that baggage, nestled close to his heart, was her.

The woman you would envy until the world turned to dust.

And yet—how could you ever bring yourself to hate her? When she was made of kindness, of soft edges and warm light? When she looked at you with nothing but affection, oblivious to the ruin she left in her wake? She was an angel. A blessing. A curse.

And fate, it seemed, had always been on her side.

So there they were, walking side by side, woven together so seamlessly it was almost poetic. Almost cruel. Her bags in his hands, the weight of them carried so effortlessly—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, when you had asked for the same—just a simple day together, just a moment of his time—he had sighed, shaken his head, told you he was too tired. That work was too much. That he simply couldn’t.

But now, watching him with her, you couldn’t help but wonder—did she take his exhaustion away? Did her presence breathe new life into him in a way you never could?

The answer settled deep in your bones, cold and unrelenting.

Your friend beside you said nothing, only looking at you with that quiet, suffocating pity that made your stomach turn. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing to soften the truth you had known all along.

You were not his first thought in the morning. You were not the name on his lips when he passed a garden of wildflowers. You were not the presence lingering in his mind when the world grew quiet.

And you never would be.

You had spent so long fighting against it. Xavier loves me. He chose me. The words had been your lifeline, a fragile, trembling thing you whispered into the silence. But even your friends never seemed convinced.

And now, neither were you.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You turned away.

No confrontation. No desperate pleas for an explanation that would only come laced with half-truths and empty reassurances. What good was honesty when it had never been yours to begin with?

When he came home that night, his lips still curved with the ghost of a smile, he found an emptiness he had never felt before. Your things, your presence—gone, as if you had never been there at all.

And in your place, only a single note remained.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Because clearly, it was never me."

And Xavier, poor Xavier, would stand there, reading those words over and over, grasping at the fraying edges of something he had never truly held onto.

But then again—

Xavier had never noticed his wrongdoings.

Not until there was nothing left but the weight of his own ruin.

Zayne

Zayne—or Dr. Zayne, as she called him—had always been a good man. A gentleman in every sense. Caring, affectionate, endlessly considerate.

But never for you.

His tenderness felt practiced, his affections routine. As if he wasn’t loving you, but fulfilling some unspoken obligation. A kindness given not out of devotion, but out of mere habit.

And you had tried to ignore it. Swallowed your doubts, convinced yourself you were overthinking.

Until you saw them together.

Her.

The one fate had tied him to. The one who never had to ask for his attention, because it had always belonged to her.

Her laughter lit up rooms before she even stepped inside. Her eyes gleamed like sunlight catching on water—brilliant, hypnotic, impossible to look away from. And neither could he.

And then, there was the picture.

A simple post, one she likely uploaded without a second thought, oblivious to the quiet devastation it would bring.

There she was, sitting in his office. Smiling. At ease.

Sharing lunch with him.

Something you had never been allowed to do.

You had asked once—just to drop by, to see him, to spend even a sliver of time together in the place he spent most of his days. But he had refused, brushing you off with a gentle but firm, “I don’t want distractions.”

And yet, there she was, sitting across from him, urging him to eat the food she had made, as if she had every right to be there. And maybe she did.

They had known each other forever. That was what you told yourself—Of course, they’re close. Of course, they understand each other in ways I never will. You had tried to accept it. To be understanding.

But then you saw the way he looked at her in the picture.

The softness in his eyes. The quiet, unguarded devotion.

Like she was the only one who could unravel him, the only one who could slip past his carefully built walls.

You had spent so long trying to do the same, but you never even made a crack.

And so, that was the moment you made a promise to yourself.

You would not be someone’s second choice. You would not collect the scraps of his affection while she—effortless, radiant, destined—was given everything you had ever wanted.

And Zayne noticed.

He noticed in the silence. In the missed calls that went unanswered, the messages left on read. In the bouquets left wilting at your doorstep, the petals curling at the edges.

Roses.

Her favorite flowers.

Not yours.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Zayne was never the gentleman you thought he was.

Or perhaps, he was. Just never for you.

Or maybe—maybe it was fate itself that was cruel.

Rafayel

Something inside you cracked, splintering like fragile seashells beneath careless hands—shattered beyond repair, beyond mending.

It wasn’t a sudden break. No, it had been slow, creeping in like the tide, eroding the edges of your love bit by bit, pulling pieces of you away before you could even notice you were unraveling.

And now, the final wave had come, and it had taken everything with it.

Because there he was—your Rafayel—kneeling beside her, smiling in a way you had longed to be the cause of.

The sight alone stole the breath from your lungs.

You had spent so long pretending not to notice. Ignoring the way his gaze always sought her out, the way his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to her. You had swallowed the ache, told yourself it didn’t matter.

"That’s just the way he is," you had whispered, time and time again.

But it had never been the way he was.

It had only ever been the way he was with you.

And now, you knew why.

Rafayel hated cats.

You remembered the way his nose had scrunched when you had once tried to feed a stray by the docks, the way he had flicked his fingers as if to ward the creature away. “Little beasts,” he had muttered, half-amused, half-disgusted. “I don’t understand how you humans tolerate them.”

You had laughed then, nudging him playfully. “You’re just jealous they’re cuter than you.”

And yet—here he was.

Crouched beside her, cradling a trembling kitten in careful, delicate hands, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His touch—usually teasing, fleeting, always just out of reach—was steady, warm, tender.

For her.

Not for you.

Something cold curled around your ribs, sinking deep, making it harder to breathe.

It was never about the kitten.

It was never about the things he couldn’t do.

It was about the things he never wanted to do for you.

And watching him now, so unguarded, so effortlessly kind, made you wish you had never met him at all.

Rage and sorrow burned through your veins, curling beneath your skin like a sickness. You wanted to rip that stupidly charming smile from his face, wanted to demand why he had never looked at you like that.

But there was no point.

So you turned and walked away.

Ignoring reality, just as you had once tried to ignore fate.

But fate never ignored you.

And something in the air told you—Rafayel wouldn’t either.

Sylus

Sylus had never been an easy man to love.

Sharp edges, cold precision—every move calculated, every word spoken with intent. He was not a man swayed by sentiment, nor was he one to entertain trivial affections.

You had known this from the start.

And yet, knowing had never stopped you from wanting.

So you learned to take what little he gave you—stolen moments in the dead of night, whispered conversations where he let the ice thaw just enough for you to believe there was something beneath it. But always, always, he kept his distance, his affections measured, restrained.

"This is who I am," he had told you once, when you asked why he never let himself soften. "I don’t have the luxury of being gentle."

You had believed him.

Until now.

Until you saw him, standing there in the dim glow of a high-rise restaurant, his head tilted ever so slightly toward her. The woman fate had written into his story, the one whose presence seemed to unravel him in ways you never could.

His fated one.

And in front of them, two untouched glasses of wine.

Wine.

The very thing he had refused to share with you.

"I don’t drink with others," he had said once, his voice clipped, final. "It's a pleasure reserved for my time alone."

But now, here he was. Sharing a glass with her. His fingers resting idly against the stem of his glass, his expression unreadable yet undeniably present. He was here. Fully. With her.

A man who never entertained distractions, utterly enthralled.

The way he looked at her—it was something different. Something you had never been granted. There was no calculation in his gaze, no careful restraint. No cold, distant amusement.

Just quiet acceptance. As if she had been meant to sit beside him all along.

And that was when you knew.

You could tear yourself apart, try to become everything he had ever wanted, and it still wouldn’t matter. Because fate had already made the choice for him.

And it wasn’t you.

Still, you lingered a moment longer, letting the pain settle, letting it carve its lesson deep into your ribs.

And then, without a word, you turned and left.

Because you, too, could learn to be cold.

Caleb

Caleb had always been warm. That was the problem.

He had a way of making you believe you belonged there—tucked into his arms, held close by quiet promises and easy smiles. He made you think you mattered.

But there was always her.

His childhood best friend.

Not bound by fate, not chosen by some cosmic force—just there. Always. In every story he told, in every old memory that made his eyes soften with something you could never quite reach. The one who had been with him before you, the one who had held his hand through storms you’d never even known existed.

And you told yourself it wasn’t a competition.

Until the night you saw them.

The neon lights of the karaoke bar cast the whole street in a soft glow, music and laughter spilling from inside as you walked past—until something, someone, made your steps falter.

Through the open doors, past the booths and glowing screens, you saw him.

Caleb.

Standing there, microphone in hand, singing.

With her.

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

"I don’t like singing in front of people," he had told you once, shaking his head with a sheepish smile when you begged him to join you for just one song. "It’s embarrassing. I just—I can’t, okay?"

But now, here he was.

Swaying slightly, smiling as their voices blended together in a song you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t perfect—his voice cracked in places, he missed a beat or two—but that didn’t matter. Because he was trying. Because he was enjoying it.

Because she made him feel safe enough to do what he had never done for you.

Your stomach twisted.

It had never been about singing.

It had been about you.

You should have walked away then. Should have swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back, should have spared yourself the cruel spectacle of watching them.

But you didn’t.

You stayed long enough to see the way he laughed when she nudged him playfully. The way he looked at her, unguarded, free. The way she reached for his hand without hesitation—because she knew it would always be there, waiting for her.

And for the first time, you realized—maybe you had never been holding his hand at all. Maybe you had only been grasping at the space he left behind.

Something cold settled in your chest.

You didn’t wait for him to notice you.

You just turned, and left, without a sound.

And Caleb, too caught up in a song meant for someone else, never even saw you go.

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