#someone KNOCK ME OUT THE GEARS ARE TURNING IN MY HEAD

[one-annon]

PROTECTIVE ADAM DRABBLE

haha hi guys... so huge shout out to @quinngefail for trusting me enough to write out a bit for this idea they had! really not my best writing but its okay, i still had fun writing it <3 heavy tw! slight fatshaming and disability shame!! dont be like these guys

adam was never the protective type. he knew lawrence could hold himself up and he knew he could protect himself. he had no reason to be mean to others. of course, there were times where he would tell someone to fuck off. he hated it when people would stare at lawrence. not only was staring rude (funny from a voyeur huh?), but lawrence was his. the older man belonged to adam and he had a ring on his finger to prove it.

the two of them knew their limits with each other but others didn't. which, in adams opinion, it should be common fucking sense. who the fuck would comment on a guy's weight? thats like…asking if a woman is pregnant. well. he actually doesnt know if that translates right but…you get the point, don't you?

like that one time when they were at a restaurant. they were sitting across from each other, lawrence had ordered a nice glass of wine and adam had a dr pepper. really, they needed the rest. hard week for them both. they had been patiently waiting for their food and once it finally was in front of them, these fucking kids were seated across from their table.

both of them paid no mind. it didnt matter. truly, looking back at it, they shouldve left them alone. but in adams defense, they were looking at larry wrong. his larry.

"you really think hes gonna eat all that?" "course he is. look at him!"

adam had heard the whispers, he noticed the stares. he inhaled slowly, trying to keep his cool. he wouldnt ruin their date. not over this. taking a quick peek up at his stunning date, he took note of how unbothered lawrence seemed. maybe it bothered him more than it did the blond. or maybe not. he didnt even know of larry had heard those fuckers talking. he knew the man's hearing was getting just a little worse. he didnt mind. it worked. adam was loud anyway.

he let his hand move over toward lawrence's, locking their fingers together and watching him take a few bites of his meal. it wasnt a ton of food. he didn't get the issue. steak, a salad he had already finished, and a bowl of soup. of course, he also ordered fries that were mostly just something adam could steal off his plate, and they had shared mozzarella sticks and chips for an appetizer. but that wasnt too much. that was a good amount of food. they had no reason to make fun of him but adam had every reason to knock their fucking teeth in.

larry's gaze caught adams, a soft smile pairing with those beautiful blue eyes. he didn't seem bothered. not one bit.

"could you uh..go get me a drink, lar?" he asked, nodding over to the bar near the back of the restaurant. he wanted to have a small word with the very kind people next to him.

"oh, of course." lawrence lifted his hand, pressing a loving kiss to his knuckles. he always treated adam like a princess. would that make lawrence the princess' bride? haha. adam's never seen the princess bride and neither has the author. sorry.

the blonde took his cane in his hand, huffing out a tired breath as he stood up. "easy on your leg.." adam warned, watching him carefully and staying on high guard to make sure he didnt need to step up and assist his lover. he was fine. he could handle himself, adam. calm down. he heard the people across from them snicker. their eyes followed lawrence as he left for the bar and adam couldnt have been more pissed.

adam turned in his seat, eyes wide with the insane urge to set the building ablaze and a smile so sarcastically pissed off that he felt he could be the next big actor. he spread his legs just a little, letting his elbows rest on his knees. he clasped his hands together, staring directly at the table. "hey there!" he greeted, the gears in his head running on just enough cigarette smoke to keep the 'protect lawrence' and his 'destroy everything and everyone in your way' gears in overdrive and the 'think rationally' and 'work this out' gears held at a complete stop.

the table focused their attention onto adam, one of the members cocking an eyebrow and mimicking his positioning. of course, adam wasnt expecting them to take him seriously. how could they? he wasnt anything special. he was just an average looking loser with a boyfriend who owns a fucking bmw.

"hey there back!"

adam hated that fucking smile. little fucking demons is what they were. he lifted his head to check on lawrence. he was still at the bar, chatting with the bartender and waiting ever so patiently for adams drink. he wasnt even sure what he was getting and truly he didnt care. he had bigger problems to handle at the moment. "is there a fuckin' problem here?" he tilted his head.

the person mocking him shrugged. "im not sure what youre talking about."

the shorter had to resist the urge to stand and slam his hands on the table. of course they didnt know. why would they know what they just fucking did? that makes so much sense that adam almost forgot why he was about to break their fucking teeth in! almost.

"yknow, youre not exactly quiet when it comes to shit talking people. though, i suppose you would really like it for someone to do the same to you, yeah?" he motions to the outfit of another member. "like how your shirt has a cute little logo for nirvana on it but i bet you cant name three songs by the damn band, huh?"

before they could defend themselves, adam continued. "or how you," he pointed to another member, "have that beautiful necklace on! oh my it looks so expensive! but yknow i saw the same thing at claires! and, really i would say your outfit makes up for it but green just is not your color. i would maybe go for a dumpster fire red next time! which i dunno, i think a nice bitch blue would go great for all of you!"

one of the members stood up, which caused adams confidence to falter just slightly. he straightened himself up, his brain suddenly racking through old memory files to find the fight tips that scott had given him. just in case.

"who the fuck do you think you are, dude?" they shouted. other tables turned to look at the pair. adam wasnt sure what to do, so he did what he did best. he imagined it was scott. truly, he did this for every fight. it was a lot easier yelling at that fucknut than some stranger.

adam vaguely pointed to the bar, "oh, so its okay for you to insult my fiance but i cant insult you? i mean, cmon, i just told you that you all had trash outfits! you fucks were making fun of his body! not so fuckin' fun when its you is it?"

he wouldve keep going. he shouldve kept going. if it wasnt for lawrence wobbling his way back with a beer bottle in hand, adam probably wouldve gotten physical. larry carefully slid his way back into the booth, setting the drink down. the doctor took note of how riled up adam and the other table seemed to be. now that the member of the group had sat and adam had his drink, they could continue their date.

"i heard you shouting." lawrence whispered in that all too calm voice of his. "you dont have to defend me, adam. people are going to make fun of me, i know it. but i can handle it. im an adult too."

adam scoffed as he took a sip of his beer, "i fuckin hate people, larry."

"i know you do, sweetheart."

the date ended soon after, a quick kiss and a hefty bill that adam was shocked lawrence was able to pay for in full cash concluding their time spent at the restaurant. adam gave the table a very nice fuck you flip off as they left, taking larry's - his larry's - hand in his own and leading them out to that fancy ass bmw.

______

how 2 write ending?

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Bad luck

Yandere!Jake Lockley x afab!reader

Cw/triggers: Darkfic, yandere themes, dark themes, failed escape attempt, mention of blood, Jake shot someone.

Summary: You tried escaping from your three captors, but it didn't end well.

A/n: Hmm, Marc is already pretty dark if he wants to be, but Jake? Good luck with him. He is the bad side of Marc and the brutal side of Steven.

The pouring rain on your skin gave you a head start with how dense and hard to see through it was. But to your bad luck, it was around 3 AM in the morning when you decided to make your run.

Your lungs were burning with how far you've ran through the rain already, your legs were about to give up from all the exhaustion.

Thankfully your spotted a car with its headlights on in the distance. The hope you felt gave you already exhausted body a little kick, you knocked impatiently on the drivers window, catching the man off guard as he rolled down the window.

"Hey are you okay?"

"Please just get me away from here!" you pleaded, looking back over your shoulder as if feeling something bad about to happen.

The man spared no second, instructing for you to hop in fast. But as soon as you were inside, you heard a sudden impact on the car with one of the headlights off, then the other one followed quickly.

You and the man were equally shocked.

"Drive, please just drive!" you begged.

Just as your savior turned the gear, you noticed a faint shadow outside in the rain making it's way to the drivers side.

Suddenly the door opened and the driver let out a painful sound, you noticed a red substance running down his leg before he was grabbed and pulled out.

You were too paralyzed to even move. The person leaned down, peering at you from outside the drivers side.

"Did you really thought we wouldn't catch up, cariño?"

It was Jake with a smirk on his face.

"Now get out of the fucking car before I come around to drag you out of there myself." he threatened.

Your shaking hands moved to the door handle, opening the door and slowly getting out. Jake came over swiftly, grabbing your arm firmly.

"Let's get you back where you belong, sweetheart. And don't worry about trying that shit again, it won't happen." he said calmly, starting to drag you with him, passing the poor man Jake shot in his leg still clutching the spot that has been shot.

You tried to yank your arm free but that only earned a frustrated groan from Jake.

"Baby you better stop. You don't want to get on my bad side now, you're already on Marc's and Steven's bad side, stop being a brat about it."

It didn't take long for Jake to get you back, closing the door and locking it in the process.

"Welcome back home."

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

Tags:

@nekoyin @iolaussharpe-24 @steven-grants-world @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@krakenkitty @buckyssugarchick @alexxavicry @mochiitoby @klillaah

Wanna get tagged?

[evafhernee]

something something qfit telling everyone who says that their gift isn’t that good that they are the gift by showing up to his birthday party something something he’s never celebrated his birthday with anyone let alone people who care about his well-being so them just being there to celebrate with him is enough

something something his birthday party with a giant castle and many gifts and people and huevitos who practically smother him with fanart and happy-birthday messages and the god forsaken earth-shattering heart-wrenching birthday letter that ramon writes him about how he loves being his son and how he loves that fit loves him, sings him lullabies, calls him ridiculously cute nicknames, even points out how fit says his name in a specific, softer tone

something something how he treats pac’s letter different than the others because he’s his boyfriend, and even though the message is the same, reacts differently because it’s definitive proof that someone he loves, loves him back, gave him a meaningful gift, wrote him a letter even though he couldn’t wake up, the letter more than enough for him to be fine with his absence in the party because it’s from his boyfriend

something something qfit has never felt this much appreciation or love in his entire lifetime something something “yeah 2b2t fit and qsmp fit are very different” because now he has people he cares for, people who care for him something something im so normal about his birthday party seriously guys

[mayasaurusss]

hey how are you? could you write jinx x reader? something like jinx taking the reader's virginity. thanks ❤️🫰🏻

My favorite piltie

A/N: Hello! I am okay anon, thanks for asking! Just a bit sad that tomorrow Arcane will end😭.

I want to make it clear that I tried to do this before the next act drops, so I wrote it in two days and some things might not be very good, but I hope you will enojiy it nonetheless!!

Contains: female reader, detailed description of a wound, smut. All characters are 20+ years.

2,8 K/4 pages

When Jinx came knocking at your door tonight, you didn't think you'd end up in this position: her hands gripping at the skin of your chest and with her head buried in it.

The beginning of your night had kicked off with a strange twist when you heard a knock on your fifth floor appartment's window. You gulped down your fear and with a fast beating heart, looked past the window's glass to see a crouching figure with bright pink eyes staring at you. Any other occasion and you would have died on the spot, but you knew who she was. As soon as you opened the window, the figure let herself in, crawling out of the darkness and into the light of your room. "You are so nice letting me in, piltie" she said, and you don't miss the venom laced in the last word she spoke. "Your people aren't really known to be kind" her long fingers mess with the many little trinkets displayed on your shelves, checking their mechanisms and turning their gears.

"What do you want, Jinx?" you can feel a tingling sense of anger inside your skull at her continuous teasings.

You still remember the first time you had seen her, running from enforcers and covering her wounded shoulder.

You knew how ruthless they could be, especially since Miss Kirramman had taken control over the city. In a strange turn of events, you had found her curled up in one of Piltover's abandoned alleys and brought her with you to your home, taking care of her for the next few days until you found your window open and the blue haired criminal nowhere to be seen. During that time, you grew fond of her and were sad when she disappeared. Some weeks had passed and your life continued to flow normally, until she showed up at your door again. You were actually kind of amazed by the fact that she managed to sneak inside the appartment's building without being noticed, but after the third time, when someone called the enforcers on her, she had begun to climb on the building's exterior and knock at your window instead.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to pay a visit to my favorite piltie" she falls back on your bed, sizing you up from head to toe with that smirk of hers that makes your heart beat faster. "That's all?" the mattress dips under your weight as you sit next to her, always keeping your eyes on hers. "Mhmm, maybe" she fishes something from a bag -one you've just noticed- and shakes it: a small glass globe filled with water and fake flakes of snow. The tallest buildings of Piltover reflect the warm lights of your room, making the city of progress look ethereal under the glass. But it wasn't the shiny buildings or the snowflakes that got your attention, but a small name made with metal and gear parts glued to the bottom of the globe. "No way...is this a real Valdiani?!" the shock in your voice makes Jinx's heart flutter, something that she has never experienced before.

She lets out a proud snuff of air from her nose, pushing her chest outwards, "Consider it a gift for my fav- shit!" the sudden swear catches your attention and you look over to see Jinx doubled over. "Jinx! What is going on?!" It's faint, but you can see her hands wrapped tightly around her left side, traces of blood seeping from between her fingers. "Oh shit! Jinx what happened?" she lets out a breathless chuckle, her skin suddenly far paler than normally. "Hah, just some gift the bluebellies have given me" she sucks in a breath when you move her hands, biting a scream away. A deep wound runs along her side, pus forming where her skin had been pulled back from the slash, bleeding red on your covers. You run outside of your room and collect gauze, antiseptic, healing creme and a glass of water.

"Here, bite this" you hand her an old cloth, which she promptly places in between her teeth. "Ready?" she nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The heat of your hand is the only thing that brings her comfort. She isn't ready though when you pour the liquid over her wound: it feels like billions of needles stinging and burning her flesh, making her want to vomit.

"There there, it's over..." you quickly dry her skin and massage the healing cream on her, finally finishing when you cover her stomach with the gauze. She releases a huff of relief, mindlessly tangling her fingers with yours. When the pain subsides, she realizes how close the two of you are. You on your knees, her panting and sweating, how close you are to her and how fast her heart is beating. It would take a second, just a second for her to reach for your lips and melt into you...

"Uh... I- uh, just-, what happened?" you try to not sound too shy but your voice gives your feelings away. "I..." Jinx's throat bobs and it seems that she'd rather curl herself up like a hedgehog than admitting whatever she did. "You know, the usual. Went on a walk, stormed a shop, stole some things, got the enforcers called on me and..." she gestures towards her side, "...this happened".

Jinx isn't clear with her words, but something about the blush on her skin hints at the fact that there may be something else underneath her facade. You might try at least, right? Reaching for the glass globe, you twirl it in your hands, watching the snowflakes fall on Piltover. "Jinx...did you get chased after stealing this?", she doesn't answer, but her shy silence is enough for you.

"Why? Why do this for me?" she pouts her lips before answering, still held back by some sort of pride. "W-what can I say? Anything for my favorite piltie...".

A heavy silence fills the room, of the kind that is difficult to bear.

You can't believe it. You just can't believe that she'd be so reckless, so stupid! It's difficult to bite your anger back, but you do so, and instead of crying or screaming or scolding her, like Jinx thought you were going to do, you just hug her tightly against your chest. Your grip is so strong against her that she feels like she'll choke on it.

But you are so warm in comparison to her body, so, so warm. For the first time in a while, after Silco's death, after Vi's betrayal, after everything went to shit, she feels like she can breathe. And so she does, inhaling your scent in between, tasting it on her tongue. When you pull back, Jinx's eyelids are heavy with want, her mouth slightly open and her skin red.

It takes a second for her lips to push against yours, for her hands to come up and grab your face and pull you down towards her. The kiss is surprisingly tender for it to be Jinx's: you expected teeth and tongue, not pecks and soft touches. The way she sighs and runs her hands on your chest has you keening for her. "Jinx..." a small line of spit connects your lips, and before you can say anything else, she wipes it off on your bottom lip and sighs, "You know what piltie? I think I deserve something too".

Blinking at her a couple of times, she groans at your naivety and continues while taking your cheeks in her hand. "It has been a hard day for me: running from enforcers, bleeding all the way here... I think I deserve a gift too".

And that's where you are now, naked from the waist up with Jinx on your lap, diligently taking what's hers. The way her tongue teases your nipple is something to die for. It seems all her softness has died with the kiss you shared before, now tugging and biting every part of you. You gasp as she bites your nipple, leaving the indents of her teeth on the delicate skin.

"If I knew I could see you all shy and fidgety-" she tugs your left nipple with her long fingers, smiling cruelly when tearing a gasp from you, "...I would have done this earlier". Her lips leave your right nipple, spit chilling the skin, before she teases both of them with the point of her fingernails, moving and tickling them.

Jinx lets out one of those cruel laughs of hers before diving right back on your nipple, giving it one last kiss and moving towards your stomach. She kisses and strokes every one of your scars, every mole or freckle, every inch of skin, until she comes across the hem of your pants. "N-No wait, Jinx..." you place your hand on her forehead, strands of blue hair falling in between your fingers. She halts immediatley at your discomforted voice, billions of little alarms going off in her head and an attentive yet scared look in her eyes. "What is it?".

"I... I have to tell you something" and with that, her heart beats faster and faster and that obnoxious voice inside her head speaks; 'You've hurt her' and 'Look at what you've done' and 'Did you really think she would genuinely like you?'. But your voice is stronger than theirs. "Hey? Is everything alright? We don't have to do this" in the meantime, your hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking at the pale skin. "Yeah I- I am okay. And I want to" her own fingers close in on you and she takes a moment to breathe. Your own warmth is one of the only things that can make her calm. When the voices blur away and only you and her are left, she opens her eyes again, your reflection sharp inside their pink. "What do you have to tell me?" now it was your time to take a breath, because knowing Jinx, she could have two reactions over your news: making fun of you or absolutely losing her shit. "I... I am a virgin".

She takes a moment to process the information and then lets out a wheezing laugh, making blood rise quickly to your face. "That's it?! I thought I accidentally hurt you or something!". The only thing you can do at this point is pout and look away offended. "Oh come on toots" her hands take a hold of your face before turning you to her, who is smiling softly and with tenderness. "I am just kidding. Don't be so moody. And besides..." she captures your lips, biting and licking and sucking until they darken, leaving a faint trace of blood where her teeth were, "...It's so fucking hot".

The descent to get to her prize is tedious and long, but Jinx can't help but want to savor each one of its steps. Her fingers finally hook on the hem of your pants and pull down, revealing your naked thighs to her; the only thing stopping her from claiming her prize is the fabric of your underwear. "Wait a second..." despite how cute you look to her, Jinx rolls her eyes at yet another one of your attempts to stop her. "What, toots? You don't want me to fuck you?" your eyes widen when she so bluntly says that, without an ounce of embarrassment on her face, but continue. "What?! N-no I want to....it's just that..." you eye Jinx's position on the floor. "The wound might be painful if you crouch... I don't want you to hurt yourself".

"So, what do you want me to do?". You look back between Jinx and the plush, comfortable bed, a lightbulb popping off on your head. "Lie on the bed", you say, making Jinx blink a few times before processing and understanding your intentions. "Ohh, I didn't take you for the kinky type, toots". She crawls over the bed, making sure to look as alluring as possible, then lies down with her head pressed on one of your pillows. "There. Do you like this more?" the way that she's so smug about it, with that stupid smirk of hers, makes you want to choke her to death.

"Shut the fuck up", you follow her, placing yourself on each side of her head, feeling her hands rise on your tighs to curl on the soft fabric she so wishes were to disappear. "Hmhm, alright" she eyes the patch of cloth that has begun to show a wet stain, images of what she is going to do to you already flashing in her mind. But this position prevents her from sliding them off without you having to move away from her, and she'd rather keep you and your pussy here. "You know, as much as I love how cute you look with these..." you only have a brief moment to see a malicious glint in her eyes, before she tears your underwear apart, leaving you naked in front of her "I'd much rather have you bare". "Jinx! I just told you to shut up!" it doesn't help that she doesn't mind you and whistles loudly, making you feel more and more embarrassed. "And I -shut up!-. And-and those were expensive! Do you know how-!" but all your words die in your throat when she, with a strength you didn't know she had, pulls you flat against her mouth.

She licks your clit like a starved woman, like it will be the last meal she'll ever have. She doesn't dive right in your pussy, instead takes her sweet time to torture you, making you wish she'd just fuck you already. "Jinx...please, I-" she opens her eyes to see you above her, naked and panting with pleasure, something she only ever dreamt of seeing.

She can't say no to her favorite piltie. Her cold hands grab your ass, propping you up in a new angle on her face so you can't move, but she can do everything she wants to. She spends the next minutes milking your pleasure out of you, before pushing one finger slowly inside of you. You gasp in pain at first, a small trickle of blood wetting your skin and her fingers, and after a few minutes, feeling need arise from the depths of your guts. Jinx's eyes widen when she first feels you move atop her fingers, riding them messily; and she already has a new idea. "No, none of that toots" with her left hand, she yanks your hips down on her fingers, preventing you from moving further. Her next words feel like ice cold water on naked skin; "I won't make you cum if you do it again" and as if that wasn't bad enough, she emphasizes her point with a trust of her fingers. "You will be a good girl, won't you?".

"Yes, yes, yes I will be a good girl..." her smile is all you see before she disappears underneath your thighs. As soon as you get used to the alien feeling of her fingers inside of you, her pace is unrelenting; fast and hard, torturing your clit with her lips. She takes your hips and places your slit directly onto her tongue, forcing you to grind down on it. When you start to wheeze from her touches, she decides to move onto the next phase of her plan. "Hey baby, get up a sec" you would rather keep on grinding on her tongue, but comply anyway. You get up, putting ditance between your slit and her mouth, but while you do, she directly shoves in her fingers, making your legs almost give out. With her other hand she pushes you until your ass is flat against her lap. "Come on, bounce" you don't let her repeat herself twice, already fucking yourself on her fingers at the best of your abilities. What she's seeing is far better than anything she could have ever dreamt of: her favorite piltie bouncing up and down her fingers, eyes heavy and panting above her. And your movements on her own crotch only make her feel more and more euphoric. Oh, if only she could feel you... When she curls her finger on that spot that has you keening, you finally come undone; finger intertwined, billions of stars exploding beneath your eyelids and electricity coursing through your veins. You collapse on her, skin against skin, puffing and gasping for each breath. Your whines reach Jinx's ears and right now, she wants nothing more than to tear orgasms upon orgasms from you, but she'll have to wait.

You roll over, taking a place near her on the bed, shivering from the intensity of your first time. And when Jinx, with a horrifyingly both sweet and sadistic smile turns to you, excitement clear on her face, your pussy clenches around nothing and your blood turns to ice. "So, wanna go again?"

[heesimp]

https://youtube.com/shorts/-aU455EC9QI?si=wrPfARb8dHR9wrDY

I JUST SAW THIS AND I'M GOING CRAZY???pls can we get a short drabble on this cuz I need jay deep in my guts😭

jay you are the only man to have ever

-

You really should go home. It’s late, well past midnight, and the man beside you is someone who’s given you three mind blowing orgasms already. You’re starting to feel like you might be taking up too much of his space and time.

“Stay the night,” he whispers as he kisses up the skin of your neck, his wet lips leaving a trail of spit. Not that you mind.

“It’s so late, Jay,” you argue, even though your body starts to fold and cave into his touch.

You’re both naked underneath his expensive silk bedsheets that are no doubt wet and soiled from both of you. His toned chest keeps you pressed against his mattress and your breasts squish on his warm skin that makes your body feel like electricity is constantly running from your head to your toes.

Your legs are spread before him as he’d just finished coming deep within you. His soft cock rests against your messy pussy but you can feel him inadvertently pushing up against you every time he maneuvers to kiss your jawline and neck. You can’t help but subtly roll your hips beneath him too.

“I won’t let you go home,” he whispers into your ear before licking your earlobe. “Your pussy’s too good to quit.”

You don’t want to go home. Not really. But one night stands aren’t your thing and you don’t know if Jay expects you to act like you two didn’t have sex when you inevitably leave. The gears work in your head now that you’ve came so many times and have gotten some of that sexual frustration out of your system.

Remnants of the night come back to you all at once. Jay is someone you met a few hours prior at a stuffy housewarming party. He knocked into you by accident and apologized by replacing the drink in your hand with another flute of champagne because the two of to agreed that the party was nothing more than wealthy people showing off their wealth. You were just a plus one. Jay was invited by the host. How you two ended up agreeing is beyond you.

He took you home an hour later and kept you wet on the entire drive home before stripping you of your dress, heels, and panties on his king sized bed. His home is luxurious and his bedroom alone makes you feel like you’re some sort of royalty for the night. Jay’s expert tongue and fingers made you push over the brink simultaneously while his cock had given you another two orgasms before he eventually came inside of you too. Memories of Jay pushing your head back against the wall as he fucked your mouth gets you slicked up again.

Jay sees the gears turning inside of you like clockwork and pushes his body up to kiss your lips like a passionate lover. His semi hard cock ruts against your bare pussy and the squelching of your mixed cum is like music to his ears. The sensation of grinding is too good for you to pass up but you think you like hearing Jay asking you to stay the night.

“I’ll cook you breakfast,” he says against your lips before moving back down to the other side of your neck. “You deserve a reward after letting me fuck you how I like.”

“I might need a little more convincing…”

Your hips grinding back against Jay has him smirking against your neck, nipping at the skin. “You get to cum as many times as you want until I fall asleep. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jay pushes himself off of your body with his cock still resting against your folds. He puts both palms on the mattress beside your head and flexes his biceps to keep himself steady as he drags the side of his cock against your wet folds. He feels the cum sticking everywhere, remnants of your orgasms dripping down onto his balls until he push up against your asscheeks. Jay judges your hole a few times and it’s enough to have you tossing your head to the side when he comes in contact with your clit.

Without using his hands, Jay sinks into you.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Stay with me.”

[queenie-the-court-jester]

that isn't very holy of you :/

Yandere church boy x gn!reader

It came out shittier than I hoped for. Not proofread 🌺 I'll fix this when I have the time

Tw: religious themes, noncon mention, minor cult mention

✝️ you had just arrived in the small town of morning star. Having been needing a break from the city life, you rented a one bedroom cabin close by. Planning on staying here for a month, you quickly headed towards your new home, very eager to start exploring the area

✝️ wandering around the town square, it seemed everyone knew eachother. A family like community perhaps? Maybe that's why they all kept staring at you as passed through, must not be use to new faces

✝️that was until a group of children approached, asking you to come play ball with them. You couldn't say no to their puppy dog eyes, and the adult's judgemental stares so you agreed. And it was fun surprisingly! You noticed none of the children had any phones.. or the grown up's for that matter

✝️your first week there you were unsettled, but you just pushed it off as the townsfolks strange behavior, Focusing on unpacking and enjoying your stsy. Until one of the school teachers, a kindergarten one, knocked on your door on a sunday

"hi there honey! On behalf of the people I'd like to sincerely apologize for the cold welcome. It's just been a hard year for all of us! So to make it up you, won't you come to church with us on this fine morning?"

✝️ whether or not you're religious yourself, she managed to convince you to come along. Chatting the whole walk there. Talking about her husband, her children. She mentioned something about having a son your age but you weren't really paying attention

✝️ walking through the grand double doors of the church house, she sat you on the front row with the pastors family, next to a young man. You were startled as she sat on the other side of you, leaning in to whisper In Your ear as she pointed at the pastor preaching

"that's my hubby right there. He's a handsome fella ain't he?"

✝️david looked at his mother in disbelief, he told her a few a times he found you attractive and now look at her! He could practically see the gears turning in her head. thankfully you seemed preoccupied thinking, so he did his best to seem normal while his poor heart beated 300 mph

✝️after the sermon, david turned to you and have you a sheepish smile

"hi.. my name's David, but you can call me dave.. its.. nice to meet you"

✝️you and David hit it off, unlike all the other people. He didn't constantly talk about praising god and forcing his religion down your throat. He was kind, understanding. Laughing at your jokes and nodding along to your words. He never met someone so.. ethereal

✝️growing up, he had a hard time believing in his small towns "god". Watching them cut up and sacrifice newcomers to their false idols, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach heading their screams. But he could definitely devote his cause to you...

✝️he trapped you in this shitty town when he asked you out on a little date a few days later. Unaware he drugged your food and dragging you into his home, waking up chained to a bed. You couldn't tell how long you've been there, but every time you'd try to escape he'd punish you in bed. Not letting you cum or overstimulating you to the point of tears. Why would you want to leave something that can make you feel so good?

✝️he grew up desensitized to blood and gore, so he's confused when you're screaming and crying. Why are you doing that? Don't you know that this is what happens to bad spouses? What do you mean you're not married either? ofcourse you are. Stop being so difficult...

✝️nobody blinks an eye when he strides into town with you on a collar and leash. And that's when you realized, you should have left earlier. Because the whole town was sick in the head. It wasn't like you could call for help because he fucking destroyed your electronics and the people don't even have phones. Something about wifi signals can brainwash you

✝️ he's whipped for you, that much you can obviously tell. but he's smarter than he looks. Eating dinner with his family is just painful,since all they talk about is God god god. It hurts your ears with how often they just Randomly start singing praises. It's bad enough they force you to watch their cult church activities...

✝️if you give in to his demands, he'll let you off the leash but you have to stay close by at all times. If you don't, he'll have to make his punishments a little more extreme. There's also a possibility he'll force you to help around the town. whether that be looking after the children or just running around doing errands. The shock bracelet on your ankle stops you from running into the woods..

✝️if you don't, well.. you wouldn't mind if you became permanently handicapped right?

"don't be so difficult sweetie.. just stay still and it'll cut right through okay?'

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part ten —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter kicked my butt. thanks for the patience~

An ear-splitting gunshot bites the ground near your boot, close enough to feel the heat simmer through the worn leather. It takes everything in you not to freeze in terror. You grab Blue and run. 

Adrenaline kicks into high gear once again, but with her dead weight and your lack of strength, you know you can't get far. You manage to tumble behind a stack of rusted bins just as another round fires. 

Blue clings to you. "He's following us!"

Your heart sinks as your fingers reach for your bow— you left it.

"Give me your gun," you sputter quickly.

She shoves the unfamiliar weapon in your hands. A tremble consumes your body as you peek over the barrel to find your target. For a second, you see your attacker as he passes by one of the jeeps. A young man no older than yourself. 

Without hesitation, you close an eye and go for his heart, but the bullet grazes the top of his shoulder with a spray of blood. Used to a bow, you aimed too high.

He barks out a swear and then lifts his rifle in retaliation. Before he can shoot, a Grey bursts through the window of the jeep, clamping down on his neck. His throat turns to gore. The gun falls from his grip as screams of pain quickly turn to muffled groans.

Relief and horror pound through your veins. That was close. Too close. You have to get Blue out of here. But how—

There is no chance to decide. Suddenly, she screams again. You whip around to meet the slash of a long knife and the flush of cold air as your coat is torn. Someone has snuck up behind you. You fumble with the gun but the attacker knocks it out of your hand, then fists your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. It happens so fast. You can't even get a good look at him— only the wild stare of his eyes and the strength of his stature. Whoever these people are, they are certainly better fed than that man in the woods.

You thrash against him, hurling saliva at his face. Apparently, he didn't expect that because he hisses, "Fuck."

You use the distraction to grab your own knife, the only weapon on you, and blindly drive it into the taut muscle of his thigh. He howls, letting go of your hair, and you slip away just enough to dodge the next swipe of his blade.

The fight is short-lived. You've grown stronger, but not enough to fight a man. He is skilled and bulky. Your attempts to hit him are futile. His knife catches you in the forehead, sending a curtain of blood down your face, and he grabs hold of your hair once again.

"Gonna cut your throat first," he murmurs, low and gravelly. "Then your little lamb's."

He will kill you. Then her. You can't let him. You won't. Something animalistic takes hold of you. You do the only thing left you can think of— bite. Hard. The sickening taste of human flesh and hot blood fills your mouth as you rip out a chunk of his nose.

"You bitch!" 

He clutches his oozing face. Blue shouts at you, her finger jutting toward something— the Grey. Done with its first meal, it draws toward the scent of fresh blood. Before your attacker can recover, you throw all your weight at him, which isn't much, but it is enough to make him lose his footing and veer into the Grey's path. It grabs hold and sinks another bite into his face.

Suddenly, two more gunshots ring out. One to the Grey's head, and the other through the man's eye. Both bodies flop dead to the ground. Before you can panic, a wild-eyed Ghost returns in long strides. 

"Blue!" he bellows. 

"Dad!" she yells back.

He heads straight for her, quickly dipping down to check her bandaged leg and search for any other wounds. Fear has forced her eyes to stay open, her body stiff and alert. There is a wet stain at the crotch of her jeans. 

"They tried to kill us," she cries.

“I'm here, baby. I won't leave you again.”

You wipe the blood off your face and glance around, panting so hard your lungs hurt. The air reeks of carnage and gunpowder, but the firing has ceased. 

"They attacked us," you speak in a raw shout. “Two of them. Did you— Are the rest gone?"

He nods. "Could be more nearby. Let's get out of here before we find out."

He slings the rifle over his shoulder and scoops up Blue without an ounce of the effort it took for you to do so. 

He moves fast. Retrieving your bow, you push hard to keep up with him. 

Twilight tints the sky purple. You make it past the fence and zig-zag through the medical tents when movement catches your eye again.

"Ghost, to the right!" you scream.

You knock an arrow onto the string, aiming for the distant figure. But the movement multiplies, more shadows lurking towards you with uneven gaits. Not people. Greys. The realization forms a pit in your stomach.

"They can fucking smell us," you choke out. 

"Hit the faster ones!"

Arrow after arrow, you aim for the ones that move with the stamina of a more recently infected. To your right. To your left. Ghost carries Blue with one arm and shoots with his handgun. More and more crawl out like cockroaches, no doubt catching a whiff of the blood that stains all three of you. 

Two built like linebackers run wildly up to Ghost from either direction. He shoots one, while the other grabs him by the shoulder. You launch an arrow at its skull, your aim more precise now that you're not shooting bullets, and it lets go of him with a squeal. 

When the trees grow thicker, it becomes harder to see them. Despair pushes a cry up your throat when you slap a hand back to your quiver and feel two arrows left. 

A slippery mix of mud and leaves suddenly takes you down to the ground, your knees landing on a hard tree root. You swear under your breath, fumbling to get back up, when a Grey you hadn't noticed behind you lunges on top, slamming you back down. Pain shoots through your ribs as you frantically roll around, thrusting a forearm against its throat to avoid its opened mouth and kicking your knees into its chest. Then, a fiery bullet lodges into its forehead, the Grey going limp on top of you with a splatter of brains and coagulated fluid. 

"Get up, Twix!" Ghost barks. 

You shove the body off and scramble to your feet, legs feeling like jelly, but you force them to keep running. 

You whip a brief look behind you. 

"There's too many— I'm almost out of arrows!" 

"The river," Ghost throws over his shoulder. "Those fucks can't swim."

You realize his idea when the roar of water greets your ears. Ghost doesn't hesitate to sprint onto the rusty rebar, slipping his gun away to hold Blue with both arms. 

You follow behind, forcing your eyes on the bank ahead as you slow down to keep balance. All you have to do is get across and the river will take care of the rest. Heartbeats pound in your skull, each step requiring an unfathomable amount of focus that you struggle to muster. You're about halfway there when you hear the splash of Greys falling in, and a brief glance below causes your footing to falter. 

This time you fail to grab the beam.

Cold water envelops you like a million needles.

A mouthful of water burns down your throat, and for a moment, you can't move. Can't breathe. Everything spins around you. It's not until your feet collide with something hard - the bottom of the riverbed - that your brain registers what's happening and you kick out to propel yourself up. 

You break the surface for a gulp of air before the current pulls your head back under. Your arms flail around in search of something to grab. Just when you latch onto what feels like a log, a hand seizes your ankle with a hungered screech. You slam your foot back, over and over, more water filling your mouth as you struggle to kick the Grey and hold on at the same time.

Finally, the rotten skull caves in and the current sucks it away. With your leg freed, you haul yourself up the log toward the edge of the river. You begin climbing up the cliffside, using the twisted roots as footholds, your hands digging into caked soil. You're almost to the top, but you feel numb and weak. So weak. You can't find anything else to grab. The wet sole of your boot begins to slip.

"Grab on!"

A gloved hand stretches down. Ghost is crouched above, Blue now on his back so can he lean over. You grip his hand and he pulls you up, until you collapse on the ground, wet and shivering. 

You cough up water and bile. 

"Bloody fucking hell.” 

It's been a while since you've thought about dying. You've made it this far, instinct always taking the reins and pushing you onward. But now, as the reality of the cold, wet clothes clinging to you sets in, you consider asking Ghost to just shoot you. It would be quicker than freezing to death, and a much better fate than drowning or turning Grey. At least you know Blue will be safe now.

Before you can form the words, you hear the shuffling of fabric. A jacket, a beanie. Set on the ground beside you.

"Take off your clothes. Put these on."

The rest turns into a dream. You don't remember putting the clothes on, or standing up and moving your heavy limbs. You don't remember getting to the hunter's cabin, but the next thing you know, you are curled up on the floorboards beside a small fire, inhaling the musky smell of Ghost's oversized jacket, with the blanket you brought tucked around your bare legs. You don't feel cold anymore. Your head pounds. You can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, slow but present. Behind you somewhere, Ghost tends to Blue. You know this because you hear him whisper to her as her sobs are muffled by biting onto a shirt. Amelia, Amelia, he says to her. A name you've never heard before. He must be cleaning the wound, the pain of it causing her to thrash and kick. Then, the sounds fade, and you know she is asleep. 

When your eyes finally tear away from the flames, you spot Ghost hunched over, lifting up his shirt. Dark blood and ink stain pale skin. 

"You were shot?" 

His eyes snap up. He regards you for a moment, and it is now you notice that most of the white of his mask has been stained with red from his kills. 

"Knife," he says.

You don't know why you offer, or why he silently accepts. Somehow you end up knelt beside him, your cracked fingertips cleaning the puncture wound in his torso without a single word exchanged. It's not deep enough to need stitches. You clear the blood and dab on antiseptic. The only sign he feels any pain is the flex of corded muscles beneath your touch and the occasional sharp inhale through the mask. His skin is oddly warm, a temperature that does some to ease the tension in your muscles.

When you're done, you roll the shirt back down. He doesn't say thank you, not that you expected him to. 

You break the silence with a voice that barely hovers above a whisper. "You could've let me freeze."

His brows lower. "You could've let them kill her."

"I would never do that." When he doesn't respond, you glance at her sleeping form. "She's okay?"

"Just a graze," he confirms.

"She lost quite a bit of blood. She might need a few days to rest."

Your gaze shifts back to his. You quietly add, "Did you recognize them? Were they a part of the military?" 

"Maybe. Their gear was. Didn't know them, though."

"Why did they try to kill us?"

He gives you a look. Of course. He tried to kill you for the same reason once.

"They have a camp nearby," you murmur the answer, more to yourself than to him. "Something to protect."

He gives a slow nod, then moves to grab his rifle and a hoodie to slip on in place of the thick SAS jacket he lent you. As he moves to the door, you realize what he plans to do. Keep watch.

You slip the beanie off and run your fingers over the cut on your brow when he says something just before leaving.

"For someone who once asked me to kill them, you fight hard to survive, Twix."

You don't know what to say. Just hours ago, you almost asked him to kill you again.

There's a beat of silence and then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Do you fight so hard."

A breath sticks in your throat, and you stare at the floor. You're not sure why he is asking this, or why the answer is so hard to give.

"I... I don't know."

With that, he leaves. You watch the fire turn to dark embers. The faded adrenaline has left you with a fatigue you have grown familiar with. If you weren't so tired, maybe you would still be scared, your mind filled with fresh memories of gore and death and screaming. But you fall asleep quickly, scooting beside Blue and sinking into the warmth of his jacket. 

[thesunshinebunny]

Well hello 👀 May i req as well? Hcs of dorm leaders & gn!s/o, s/o asks the boys if s/o can kiss them/not, something like, "Can i have a kiss?" Or you can change it to the other sentences, thank you & nice to meet you ✨

These little requests are what fill my soul and make me scream like a hormonal teenager who is just starting to read romance novels. I hope you like it and have a lovely night.

Riddle

Okay but… can you imagine Riddle, the stickler for rules, being all flustered when you ask him for a kiss? Because I can.

Imagine, a super cute date in the gardens of Heartslabyul, hidden among the corridors of the labyrinth, with the multicoloured hedgehogs following your feet.

You sitting on a bench in the middle of the bushes, eating little sandwiches and drinking tea in little cups that who knows where they came from… everything was already prepared by the time you arrived.

Romantic magic or did Trey get ahead of you? We'll never know

Back to the date… again, imagine sitting next to Riddle, and you, out of nowhere, ask him…

“Can I have a kiss?”

Riddle's face turns BRIGHT red, like, super BLUSHING red.

He’s so caught off guard, but… he's not gonna leave you hanging, right?

He clears his throat and tries to keep his cool, even though his heart is doing a 500m sprint in his chest.

“W-well… if it’s just a kiss on the cheek, I suppose I can allow it. It’s not… entirely unreasonable”

Poor thing, even if the date was his idea, trying to be super romantic makes him a little embarrassed… he’s not used to it, understand him.

He tries to maintain his dignity, even in a private place.

He leans in and gives you a quick, almost too proper kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not that I mind, but I just—well, you’re certainly a bit forward, aren’t you?”

Riddle is screaming

Leona

Okay, so Leona is the kind of guy who’s way too chill to make a huge deal out of things.

You’ve been dating for a while, and you’re just chilling near the practice field, watching him cool down after a heavy training session.

Seeing him give it his all, physically, makes things start to heat up. Just imagining Leona sweating after training, with tired arms, maybe with a bare torso… is it hot in here or is it just me?

Let’s not lie to ourselves, Leona without a shirt is a vibe… a hot one.

Anyway. You stared at him, like someone looks at their crush who has just finished training and wants to jump on him.

With a lot of affection and love involved.

Still, these days were becoming very common, so, leaving lustful thoughts aside, you simply said to him…

“I want to kiss you”

Leona just kind of… looks at you.

He lets out a dramatic sigh. Like, why does everything you do have to be so complicated? Why can't you just…go for it?

For him, it might have been more interesting to see your independence and high self-esteem take what is yours, than just letting him know.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he debates whether he's in the mood to indulge you or not.

“Fine. Whatever. But don’t get too used to this, got it?”

He pulls you close and gives you a lazy, almost dismissive kiss on the forehead. It's like… a kiss but also not really? Because Leona is not about to get all lovey-dovey on you in public.

Azul

Azul is basically running his own side hustle even when you’re hanging out with him.

You’ve been dating for a bit, and he’s still a bit of a businessman even in private moments. And there’s never a better place to have that attitude than in his VIP area.

I mean, he loves you, but he has to keep up appearances.

So when you asked him…

“Can I kiss you?” he just looked at you and said...

“What can I get out of this?”

What a way to break the mood, really.

We love Azul, but his bad boy facade with his partner is enough to knock his fedora in his face.

And that’s exactly what you did, but not angrily, but playfully. With you, Azul doesn’t have to be making contract after contract to be romantic.

Azul blinks at you for a solid five seconds while adjusting his hat. He is NOT about to give up a kiss without some kind of agreement.

“Well, I suppose I can offer you a small one, but there must be something in return”

Before you could complain, starting for the millionth time a little discussion about why not everything has to be a deal, Azul planted a small kiss on your cheek.

On that romantic and tender side, you could also perceive his typical mischievous smile, the one that always said “this will cost you, just you wait”

Kalim

So Kalim is the most sunshine-y, affectionate guy ever, and when you ask him for a kiss?

He is THRILLED.

Like, this is the guy who’s practically jumping out of his seat to shower you with love.

Your relationship with Kalim is over the moon. He really is a person who appreciates his relationship and does everything to make you feel loved and respected.

And it is these small gestures, a greeting, a smile, a kiss, that make your relationship with him so… AHHHHHH beautifully beautiful and romantic.

Lots of diabetes

One day, outside in the sunny Scarabia courtyard, after an exhausting afternoon of just being adorable, you were sitting under the delicious shade of the marble structure of the fountain, enjoying the water falling from the jets, being splashed by some drops of cold water, your gaze met his.

Admiring those ruby ​​eyes full of light and stars, you couldn’t help but feel that wonderful energy that Kalim emanates day after day.

"I want to kiss you so bad right now” It just came out of nowhere, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Kalim's eyes light up like it's his birthday and he just won the lottery. You didn't even know that it was possible to be this excited over a kiss.

“I'd love to kiss you too, how could I not?”

He pulls you into a hug, and it's basically a bear hug that lifts you off your feet for a second before he plants a big, happy kiss on your lips.

“I'm so lucky to have you, seriously! We should kiss ALL THE TIME!”

Vil

Vil’s refined. Like, everything about him screams elegance and poise. So when you ask for a kiss, it’s not like he’s going to say no but the moment has to be perfect.

You’re in a quiet part of the Pomefiore dorm after a photoshoot, and he’s looking at you like you just asked for the moon.

That little part of you, so tender, so subtle, so…perfect, melted him from the inside out.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Vil raises an eyebrow, but not in a “what’s wrong with you” way—more like a hmm, you’re asking for something special.

He’s got this air of “I’m too fabulous for this” but deep down, you know he’s a softie for you.

“How bold of you, asking so directly”

He leans in with that regal elegance and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips, just soft enough to leave a lingering warmth between you two.

“Don’t think that just anyone gets a kiss like that, darling. You’re… special.”

He leaves you trembling with emotion and the heat that began to run through your body.

So weak to his touch, so weak to his voice.

So weak to Vil Schoenheit

Idia

Ok but, extremely shy, like, socially awkward AF

Idia is THE definition of socially awkward, but he adores you.

He just has no idea how to show it. So when you ask for a kiss, it’s like the entire universe just… freezes for him.

Inside Idia’s cold room, surrounded by his beloved tech pieces, his hacking programs and video games… he couldn’t help but feel warmth around him.

And that could be seen in the pink color on the “tips” of his flaming hair.

“Would you like to give me a kiss?”

A proposal so sincere, so sweet, so full of love and innocence.

Idia almost goes BOOM

Idia’s face goes from zero to tomato-red in like, 0.2 seconds. He can barely look you in the eye as he stammers through his words.

“W-W-Wait, you want a kiss? W-W-What do I do?!”

He awkwardly leans in and presses a very quick, very shy kiss on your cheek. It's the shortest kiss in history, but you can tell he's absolutely melting inside.

“D-Did that work? I mean… I… I can try again, but…"

Malleus

Malleus is a bit of a mystery.

He's been dating you for a while, but his intense, princely vibes make every moment feel… more.

You are still getting used to human emotions when it comes to romantic relationships. So please, let's be patient, everything in him multiplies and is much more intense.

But anyway, who doesn't want an intense romance with a dragon?

Just saying.

When you ask for a kiss, he's like—well, he didn't see this coming. But he's still genuinely pleased, even if he's trying to hide it.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Malleus goes quiet.

He doesn't know how to respond at first, because—does asking for a kiss need to come with a formal speech or something?? He's royalty, and he's not used to such casual requests.

But you're his beloved, and that changes everything.

“How curious. You’re so…direct”

He pulls you gently towards him, cupping your face as though you were the most precious thing in the world, and he leans in for a soft, lingering kiss.

“Such a request… I will grant it, my beloved”

[cameronspecial]

My Particular Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Y/N needs things to be done a certain way and Rafe understands that.

Masterlist

Y/N likes things done in a particular. It’s the way her brain works. People often look at her and call her childish for the things she does to cater to these needs. Because of those people, she started to believe that she had no chance of finding love. Who would want to date someone who was so picky with the things are? Then Rafe came along to show her she doesn’t need to change; instead, it is the partner who should try to be open-minded and help her out. And Rafe really does try to do everything he can to help Y/N out. 

———

Y/N sits with her little cousins in the living room, listening to them recount the story behind the drawings they are currently working on. She doesn’t know where Rafe went off too, but if she knows anything about him, he is probably off trying to win brownie points with her relatives. “And this is going to be us when you and Rafe take us to the beach,” Sophie recounts, holding up the picture. Y/N’s mouth drops open, “Wow, that looks amazing.” “We look like we are having so much fun,” Rafe adds, kissing Y/N’s temple from behind the couch. She stretches her head back to see Rafe. He is holding two plates in his hands and he rounds the couch to sit beside his girlfriend. He holds out a plate for her. She notices that her plate is different from his. It is one of the special sectioned plates from their home. He catches her examining eyes and worries he got something wrong. “Did I do something wrong? Each component is in its place. I separated the mashed potatoes, the steak and the vegetables,” he starts to tangent. “Should I have separated the mixed veggies too? I knew I should’ve separated them. I know you like to be able to identify the different textures easily.” 

Her hands stop him from rising to fix what he thinks is a mistake. “No, it’s okay. You got everything right. I was just surprised you brought one of my plates. Thank you,” she reassures him, giving him a kiss. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and starts eating, “You’re welcome. I’m glad I got it right.” 

———

They knock on the door but don’t wait for it to be opened by someone inside before entering the unlocked house. “Yo, Top. We’re here,” Rafe announces with a booming voice. It’s just a little get-together so the couple takes their shoes off. Right as they are about to step deeper into the house, Y/N sees the carpeted floor of the house. She can already feel the uncomfortableness of the rug tickling the bottom of her feet and she flinches at the thought. Rafe gently holds her back by her shoulder, “Wait here, I have to get something from the car.” She waits for him at the entrance, preparing herself to walk barefoot on the rug. He jogs back inside and places something on the ground. Her eyes dart down to see slippers. “Where did you get these?” she questions while putting them on. He kisses her on the cheek, “I bought new slippers to keep in the back of my trunk for this exact reason.” Warmth fills Y/N and she wraps her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

———

Y/N rests on the couch and watches as Rafe folds the laundry. Each article of clothing is folded exactly how she likes it with crisp edges. While she appreciates how attentive he is, worry starts to creep inside of her. What if he starts to realize that all the things he does to keep things to her taste are a waste of time? What if he starts to think she is too high-maintenance? He can see the gears turning in her head. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” he asks, leaning over to kiss her. She bows her head, “What if you break up with me because you get tired of having to do things a certain way for me like I am a child?” Rafe places what he is folding down and moves to the same couch as her. He brings her into a hug, attacking her face with kisses. “That would never happen because I love taking care of you. You are my particular girl and I would not trade you for anything in the world,” he promises. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @victory-in-the-llama @starkowswife @drewsmusee @maybankslover

[the-thing-withfeathers]

the archer’s arrow part 2 (w.a.)

are you hiding something?

part one | next part

a/n: teehee i am so sorry for the wait but i hope y’all enjoy this one <3

pairing: wednesday addams x female reader

warnings: mentions of blood & death

➶ ➶ ➶

thwip!

it was your arrow, definitely your arrow.

“go! wednesday! go!”

and your voice, definitely your voice.

wednesday gasped awake, sitting up instantaneously. she gripped her chest, bunching the fabric of her shirt up into a fist. her head turned to look at her alarm clock.

she was awake ahead of schedule but she was grateful she woke up when she did. she immediately got dressed, the stomping of her boots lining the walls of ophelia hall.

she reached your room, knocking thrice before stepping back.

you were already dressed, today was an early practice day.

“wednesday, you’re early.” you tilted your head, stepping aside to let her in anyways.

“i value punctuality.” she lied. she was getting better at coming up with them in her efforts to try and hide her true intentions from you.

a bit of her looked disheveled, like she had rushed to get there. you noticed her braid a little out of place and her socks mismatched— both black but definitely not from the same pair.

“right. well, let me finish this and i’ll be ready to go.” you took to your chair at your desk, settling back down.

wednesday noticed that there were a couple of envelopes littered across your desk. you were in the process of writing letters.

“you’re writing.” she pointed out.

“yes, wednesday. thats something i can do too.” you joked back, she remained stoic.

“what are the letters for?” she inquired.

“mainly family but also for some of my friends at the academy.”

“i understand your family lives remote but surely your friends have phones?” she furrowed her brows.

“they do, but we think letters hold more sentiment.” you clarified, scribbling more words onto the piece of parchment paper you had aquired. “and it’s always nice to receive things in the mail.” you shrugged.

“i suppose you might be right.” she agreed. you were surprised to hear her validation.

her eyes followed the ink that your pen left behind. it caught her attention particularly when you drew a heart next to someone’s name on the envelope.

you sealed the letter and then proceeded to stand, grabbing your gear from your closet. you opened the door for wednesday, allowing her to exit first.

you two walked side-by-side down to the practice range.

“did you have many friends at the academy?” she asked as you exited ophelia hall.

“many? not many. but a good handful. they were all very kind. i would love to know them forever.” you smiled, reminiscing at the memories you shared with them.

“any more than friends?” she asked, not looking at you. you looked at her with your lip curled. at the back of your mind, you questioned her curiosity about your romantic life.

“who’s asking?” you retaliated, a smirk plastered on your face. you glanced at her only to be met with a glare. you knew you would certainly meet your end if you left the question unanswered.

“yes, wednesday. i had a girlfriend.” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. it was a bit of a sore spot, this topic.

but wednesday cared not for sore spots.

“what happened?” she pryed further. why was she pushing those buttons so much?

the memories of her rejection flooded through your brain. she had no right to ask these things. you remember how the look on your face was probably the single most heartbreaking thing most of your fellow students have ever seen.

“why are you asking about this, wednesday?” you practically hissed at her.

“i’m not going to take advantage of your practice times and not get to know you.” she spat back.

“you… hm.” you paused. “i never thought i’d be answering questions from wednesday addams. you’ve changed too.”

“so answer them if my question intrigue you so much.” she continued walking at your pace.

“fine. we split up because i wanted to come back and we couldn’t do the long distance.” you answered openly. “but we’re still friends. she and i were very close, she helped me through a lot.”

you continued to stride towards the forest as wednesday simply watched you. you had someone, but were fine giving it all up to come back. the feeling opened a pit in her stomach, if only you had known what she was hiding.

—

she had taken a liking to your routines in the wilderness.

“i purposefully try to miss.”

you had told her that was the closest thing you could get to immersing yourself into your environment. murder of fauna in the nevermore woods was frowned upon, so you had to learn control.

“isn’t that counter productive?”

she asked back, but you proved her wrong. your control was incredible. nicking a squirrel by the hair of its tail, she watched the focus on your face as you tried to ensure it’s life.

“it’s harder to hunt down animals and make sure they live rather than die.”

today, she sat with a notebook. she said she just wanted to focus on writing up ideas for her novel while you practiced.

it was like she was your body double, just a shadow that lingered around while you did your thing. somehow, it worked. you felt more productive and so did she…

if she was working on her novel.

her pen glazed across the yellowed paper on her notebook. the ink morphed into the image of your bow. on paper, your body was facing the trees, arm reaching for an arrow from your quiver. wednesday captured your physique, how your body flexed with every move you made.

thwip!

wednesday did not flinch.

but she nearly did.

an arrow lodged into the tree trunk, directly above her head.

“i can literally feel your stare, wednesday. you’re making me nervous.” you teased. her eyes grew dark at you.

“try that again and you won’t have fingers to shoot an arrow with.”

you couldn’t help but smile at her empty threat. you knew wednesday more than either of you thought. you knew that she wouldn’t take your fingers, they would stay with you.

you drew your bow again, pointing an arrow straight at her jokingly.

“try me, addams!”

the statement made wednesday’s head shoot backwards, her eyes clouding over.

“try me addams!” you yelled at her. you were younger. your cheeks were fuller, you hadn’t quite grown into your face yet.

but there you were, back then, the object of wednesday addams’ affection. but she could never admit that then.

you were on your back, pinned against the ground with wednesday on top of you. she remembers this fondly, she was trying to steal back her hairties that you had stolen as a joke.

you were laughing. it was the most joyous she’d ever seen you. she didn’t know how she was getting that reaction from you.

she was reaching as you held the ties above your head, swinging your arm around to make sure she didn’t get it. she was growing frustrated.

she groaned and drove two of her fists down into your chest, robbing your body of air. you coughed as a response and caved in, handing her the hairties.

“okay addams!” you choked out, sitting up to be closer to the girl. you laughed softly, coming face to face with her. “i just wanted to play a prank on you.”

“pranks are a waste of your time. you have better things to do.” she said, standing up. “you’re going to be late for practice.” she looked down at you. you remained seated.

“they’re not a waste of my time if it means i get to spend time with you.” you said, honestly. sure, you were mildly flirting but you were geniune. wednesday didn’t know how to process the admitted desire for companionship. she returned the sentiment, but it wouldn’t come out of her.

“i’ll come to your practice then.” wednesday said, putting the hairties in her bag. “i’ll sit there and wait for you.” she held her hand out for you to take so she could help you up.

you grinned up at her from where you were.

that grin, she would have killed for it.

“deal!” you jumped up excitedly, a proud smile on your face. you took her hand to stabilise yourself.

and it was then she got her first vision of you.

you were older now. definitely older.

you were still in the forest, holding wednesday’s hand just like how you were in the real world.

your bow was in your left hand, like you had just come from battle. blood was dripping down from your ears.

you had blood staining your shirt. and it looked bad. something most people wouldn’t be able to recover from.

and it flickered between the image of your eyes crickling from how huge your smile was and the sight of you donning crimson in front of wednesday.

“wednesday!” you cried out to her, catching her in your arms.

and then she was back to reality.

“wednesday!”

a vision of a future in a vision of the past? that was new for her. her powers might have been trying to tell her something— something more urgent.

she remembers leaving you alone at practice that day, taking back her deal to you. she had to sit alone and process.

three days later, she broke your heart.

“you still get those often?” you asked, sitting her down against the tree trunk.

“of course i do.” she snapped, her conscience pounding from the double vision she just had.

“sorry, stupid question.” you said, regretfully. you sat in front of her, still holding her back to steady her. “do you want to talk about it?”

she hated how you cared.

“no.” she shook her head. “it was just… nothing. nothing important.”

“you and i both know your visions have saved countless lives, wednesday.” the way you said her name had her head reeling. “is there something we should be worrying about?”

“no… no.” she waved you off, pushing you away. you sat there nonetheless.

“okay well… are you feeling okay?” you worriedly questioned her.

“i would feel better if you stopped asking questions.”

you recoiled, knowing it was best not to provoke her like this. her heart twisted at your concern, they made her feel almost guilty for pushing you so far away.

she had broken you down slowly, she knew that now. you poured your heart into your affectionate manner, it was something that scared her.

you sat in silence, taking in your surroundings and letting her recover from the vision. you were around when she first started getting them, you knew how badly they affected her.

she almost wanted to apologise, tell you that she was sorry for snapping. but she couldn’t let you get close again.

“we should go soon, lunch is in 30 minutes.” you spoke up first, breaking the peace. she simply nodded at you, helping herself up. you followed suit, yanking the arrow you had previously stabbed into the tree out and putting it back into your quiver.

➶ ➶ ➶

you sat across from wednesday. she recalled a time you would fight for the seat beside her, but instead, you filled the space next to yoko.

“you’re already thinking about the rave’n?” you asked enid, munching away at your food in between sentences.

“of course i am!” enid jumped up. “it’s our last year here! we need to think about these things!” she turned to you and grabbed your hands.

“and it’ll be your first & last rave’n back! we have to make it good!” she squeezed your hands. you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back a smile.

“okay well, you’ll help me shop then.” you held your pinky up, which the blonde gladly took in her own.

“good! and you, wednesday?” enid turned to the shorter girl, tilting her head.

“my rave’n experiences haven’t exactly been pleasant, enid.” wednesday brushed her off. “maybe this is the year i skip out.”

“you shouldn’t. i would like you there if it’s my first one back and last one i’ll ever have.” you said, forgetting that such desires were usually turned down by wednesday.

but that was somehow enough to convince her.

“fine.” she grumbled, a contrast to the smile that was now stuck to your face.

“never thought that would be so easy. you must be the sentimental type, addams.” yoko commented. the mental image in wednesday’s head was her brutally bashing the vampire for saying that.

“do you know the theme?” you asked enid. the werewolf was finally asked to head the planning of the rave’n, she was perfect for the job.

“yup! since it’s halloween— we’re doing guts & gore!”

you swear you saw wednesday nearly crack a smile, this was right up her alley.

“and glitter!” enid added in, you were unsure if she was joking.

the joy on wednesday’s face faded slowly, you softly laughed at the change of expression.

“don’t worry, addams. i’m sure you’ll look fine bedazzled.” you joked, snickering. yoko laughed beside you.

she glowered at you, your smile persisted. did she no longer have an affect on you in these situations?

you really had grown.

“i would rather choke and die before covering myself in sparkles.” she took an angry bite of her food.

“don’t worry, wends, i’ll forgive you this once.” enid giggled. “gore is still your element, i’m sure it will be reminiscent of your first rave’n.“

“i heard about that.” you chimed in. “pig’s blood, right? maybe you can work with real blood this time, nobody seems to know the difference. and you’d probably enjoy that better.” you had said that almost too casually, it bothered her.

she was like an old book you hadn’t picked up yet still knew the insides and outs of.

“yes. maybe i will.” she answered briefly. you returned to your meal, finishing up and picking your bookbag up.

“gotta go, i have some botany homework to catch up on.” you said, turning to wednesday quickly. “did you want to join me for archery club later?” you asked.

she paused for a second, debating her answer.

“no, i can’t. i have homework i need to do in my room.” christ! why did she say that? she meant to say yes!

perhaps it was her defense mechanism, she wanted to keep you at arm’s length after what happened in the forest today. she needed some time to process.

“no worries. i’ll see you guys later!” you jogged off and waved as you left.

“is it weird hanging around her again?” yoko asked, she realised she hadn’t talked to wednesday about your return much.

“i suppose.” wednesday nodded. she had grown closer to yoko overtime, finding herself being honest towards her. “she’s changed a lot.”

“i mean, yeah. her entire environment changed in a whim. that makes you grow up.” yoko agreed. “you two seem to be getting along just fine.”

“indeed. but we can never go back to how we used to be.” wednesday tried to put up a front. “i’m sure she wouldn’t want that either.”

“given how you tore her heart in half last time you saw her? i wouldn’t put it past her.” yoko sighed, “but you can’t hold it against her forever.”

“i can and i will.” wednesday scoffed. yoko squinted at her.

“are you hiding something?” the vampire asked. yoko had an excellent talent for reading people, it infuriated the addams girl.

“no.” wednesday responded firmly, standing up abruptly and gathering her things. “i have to go. i’ll talk to you both later.”

enid and yoko shot each other worried looks.

wednesday stomped off to her room, a scowl evident on her face.

she hated this. all of it.

she hated that her visions were getting stronger, they were so loud that they were making her entire body hurt.

she hated that she would once again become responsible for saving someone, she was always thrust into the world of the weird. was it such a crime that she wanted some normalcy?

she hated you. she hated that she was forced to reject you in order to prevent your impending doom.

she hated you. she hated you for returning and making her feel things again.

she hated you. she hated that she was terrified of your death.

she hated you. she hated you. she hated you.

but she had to save you.

➶ ➶ ➶

author’s journal

okay i’m soooo sorry this took ages! and that this is relatively short! but i was in the middle of quitting my job and planning my christmas trip to see my family!

i’ll let y’all in on the reader’s powers more in the upcoming chapters but she is definitely a psychic!

i also am sooo excited for halloween!!! i’m going as wednesday this year and i also bought from the doc martens x wednesday collaboration so i’m so so keen on getting it in.

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter & hopefully chapter 3 will be out before you all know it!

kisses xx

[cupidisaliar]

Bound by infinity ♾️

Gojo x student reader

No warnings i guess. Let me know if there are any I should add. Second fic from a long ass hiatus of one post haha.

Sorcery training wrapped up, and you pack belongings and bid your peers farewell.

It was Panda's bright idea to have you and the rest of the first years run around the track, making you realize how out of shape you are.

It's hard work, you must admit—the whole sorcerer thing.

You navigate the familiar halls exhausted, heading to your dorm room, and unintentionally collide with your sensei, Gojo Satoru.

Unbeknownst to you, his technique, infinity, remains in place.

"Oops," you chuckle breathlessly. "Sorry! Bye, Sensei!" Your words accompany a slight bump, making him step slightly to the right. With an awkward smile, you turn to leave.

Gojo is in front of you again.

'Well, he can teleport…' you recall, 'and he's annoying.'

You look up, and although his blindfold remains around his eyes, he appears to be staring right at you. His eyes seem to pierce through the black cloth, through you. A slight chill crawls up your spine.

"…Are you okay, sensei?" you inquire.

Gojo doesn't move an inch, his gaze still on you. Neither of you says a word as the silence becomes deafening. A leaky faucet, a bird's chirp, and an unmoving Gojo suddenly become the focus of your attention.

After what feels like forever, a light smile graces his emotionless face.

"I'm just testing my infinity, that is all..." he finally speaks, a light smile still adorning his face.

You blink, "Okay, what about it?" You sigh, assuming he wants you to humour him; he always thinks he is funny.

"I was curious whether the effects of my infinity technique would be negated if a force bumped into me by accident." He says flatly.

"Doesn't it always?" you shrug.

The gears begin to turn in your head.

Doesn't it always…

"My infinity has always negated forces that approach it. Someone has never bumped into me... At least not that I am aware of." He crosses his arms.

You say nothing, and the words won't come out. They aren't even there.

'Did I just…'

After a moment, Gojo seems amused by something. "Well, let's keep it between us, and the rest of the school shall not know about this." He says with a slight chuckle.

Gojo smiles. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't affect me. And I won't say anything. But..." he pauses. "I am just curious... How did you get past my infinity?"

You shake your head. "I...I don’t-I don’t know…” You stammer.

"Well, I guess I'll keep my curiosity in check..." he chuckles again. "Have a good day, Y/N ."

He then proceeds to walk away.

'Should I also leave, or should I continue to the dorms? What should I do? Infinity? How does that work again?' Your thoughts dance and taunt you around as you watch your sensei leave.

You snap out of it when he's out of sight and run to your dorm. Exhausted from training and the interaction with Gojo.

'It all feels like a bad dream. Gojo Satoru is the strongest.' It was probably just a slip-up. His infinity wasn't up, and he assumed it was.

Changing into sleepwear, you are about to settle into bed when there is a knock at the door.

You open the door only to find Gojo sensei standing before you.

"I have a question for you," he says, walking in without waiting for an answer.

"Uhm..make yourself at home, I guess—"

Ignoring you, he walks to the center of your bedroom and looks at you.

"Why can you bypass my infinity technique? My curiosity got the best of me," he says, not blinking.

He's blinking? Oh..his blindfold is off. You notice it hanging around his neck. Blue eyes peer at you, and he seems eager for a reply.

"Sensei..." you start. I honestly have no idea."… I'm sorry," you say. It's all you can manage; a worried look plagues your face.

"It is alright; you don't need to worry." He smiles, almost in an odd manner. I just wanted to know how you managed to do it. But... if you don't know how you did it, then I am even more curious," he muses, walking over and leaning on your wall.

"Honestly, it was probably a one-time thing… maybe," you shrug, attempting to grasp a coherent sentence. "You're tired…maybe it wasn't even on—"

"Nah, It was definitely on," Gojo replies flatly. "But, I am still curious…" he says; he seems to peer at your soul without that blindfold.

"Do you want to try again?" You cut him off.

Gojo is silent, his eyes widened slightly. A small smile slowly comes across his face.

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes still glued to you.

You slowly reach your hand out, your palm outstretched.

Gojo looks back at your hand, then back at your eyes.

He steps away from the wall, still smiling. "So…you want to try this?" he questions, his tone serious.

"Yeah, is your infinity on?" You fail to hide your nervousness. Your voice shakes, as does your hand.

Gojo pauses for a moment to think about his answer. "It is, yes," he says without blinking as he watches you.

Your hand lingers in the air, shaking slightly as you wait for him to move. You take a deep breath, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth.

"You know what this technique is, right?" he asks, stepping closer to you. It means nothing can touch me, nothing can hurt me." He is so close to you.

"I know," you barely whisper.

Gojo lets us have an airy chuckle, breaking the tension in the room. His eyes seem so bright, brighter than ever.

You can't seem to see what's boiling underneath.

“Try it.” he challenges, his hand almost touching yours now, the other in his pocket.

You move your hand toward him, touching it effortlessly and going through his infinity.

Your hand is touching Gojo’s, and you keep your eyes glued to the back of your hands touching. You expected nothing to happen. It has always been an impenetrable technique, but for some reason, your hand is touching his during his infinity.

You hear Gojo gasp. “Incredible,” he whispers.

You swallow air, and your blood runs cold. Why do you have such a bad feeling about all of this?

Gojo looks straight at you. His eyes look curious as if he's studying you. “Can you pull your hand back?” he asks.

“Yeah..” You pull your hand back and put it back to your side.

“And nothing happened to you?” he asks, unblinking. “I feel fine, sensei.”

“I see..” he smiles, looking down at his hand. You wonder why he seems so giddy. Is he okay? You have to ask. “Gojo, are you–?”

He’s laughing. Laughter filled with joy and excitement.

“Sensei..” you try to talk to him.

Gojo is laughing joyously; you've never heard him laugh like this.

“Sensei, are you okay?”

“I've never seen anything like this... Y/n.. you can get past my infinity!” He beams. “You didn’t feel anything, did you?”

You shake your head. “N-no, I didn’t,” you mumble.

Gojo smiles. “Well, that settles it. It seems to me you have an immunity to infinity.”

He pauses for a moment, looking–no staring at you, like that would help him understand the reason behind all of this.

“I must say, I find you very interesting. I have never met anyone like you.” He comments, his unblinking eyes filled with fascination.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“Just as I said, it’s rare that I meet someone who can neutralize my technique. In all my years, I have never seen someone with that ability. It’s only been objects.”

You nod. You’re worried. You want to know what all this means. You look back up, and Gojo looks off to the side. You follow his gaze to a jewelry box in your room.

“Now then!” he clasps his hands together. “For now, this will remain our little secret..” You notice he speaks in a light-hearted tone now.

“..Until it is necessary to get more people to know.” He says, letting out a small chuckle.

“Why would they–” You start.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo says. You aren’t sure if he is reassuring you or himself. “It is simply because I know some people would definitely want their hands on that technique you have.

What a scary thought.

“But… we can cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, don't worry, my Y/N.

You almost miss it.

My Y/n?

You swallow… “Sensei, are you okay? I want to know because you are the strongest, but I can get past your technique.

“I am perfectly fine.” He replies sternly.

He notices your worried expression.

“I’m fine, Y/n. I know you are probably confused right now. This will all make sense in time.” He crosses his arms.

He walks towards you, towering over you.

“Now.. do not let any doubts creep into your mind,” he says, pulling his blindfold up. “You will be fine. Just leave everything to me.” You watch as he ties his hair up with it, and it obscures those piercing blue irises.

You nod. “Yeah,” you reply. Of course, you trust Gojo. You always have.

Always.

Gojo sensei smiles back, his expression filled with assurance. He knows you have doubts.

“Let me give you a piece of advice,” he says, dropping his hands. Now, he looks like how he usually does, hidden from the world.

“You seem very kind. In our world, sorcerers are not always the best people. But you…you have a kind heart. I can see that.”

“Do not let anyone change that. You hear me?” He adds, raising his voice slightly.

“I promise,” You reply.

“...Good…”

Gojo pats you on the shoulder. “I trust you. You can trust me?” He asks. You can’t tell whether it was a question or a statement. He sounds almost remorseful.

You feel a sadness brewing inside him, the calm before the storm. He’s troubled.

“Isn’t this so weird?” you blurt out; it's your attempt at lightening the mood.

Gojo smiles, seeming relieved.

“It is weird, isn’t it?” he replies in your light-hearted manner.

“It feels as though destiny crossed our paths. Maybe fate brought us together,” he says thoughtfully and slightly sad.

“Maybe it did.” You say.

He pats your back.

“Now, I have something to attend to. Come to me, and only me, if you need anything.” He says, walking to your door.

“Goodbye, Y/n.” He says, back still turned

He leaves, shutting the door.

He left his worry in the room with you; it’s suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe.

That terrible feeling in your gut never went away.

You don’t think it ever will now

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [6]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,776

A/N: whew. okay. we’re back, we’re updating, and we’re getting back on track. i think the motivation behind the madness is becoming a little clearer. or at least, more clear. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, comments and especially reblogs are always appreciated. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics​

It’s your wedding day, again. 

  You remember the soft white satin of your dress like it was yesterday—only it’s today, isn’t it? How can something happen again if it hasn’t happened yet? You look down at your hands, where the lacy sleeves of your wedding dress loop gracefully around your thumbs—your nails are picked raw and bleeding. You look back up at the mirror, and your own distraught face stares back at you. 

  I don’t want to get married. 

  No, that isn’t right—this is a good day, a happy day, why don’t you want it anymore? There is knowledge that dances just out of touch as you stare fuzzily at the mirror in your bridal suite. Something is wrong, but you don’t remember what it is. The mirror fragments, each component folding away as the world tilts on it’s axis, wood flooring becoming red carpet strewn with rose petals. 

  You stand at the altar, the priest beaming at you. 

  You will take him won’t you? As husband, husband and wife—Ransom splits in two like a cell, and both of them hold your hands so tight the bones creak and hurt and—

  “I love you, Princess, Sweetheart, Darling, Mine—” One voice, two mouths, one person, two bodies. You don’t realize they’re pulling until you tear, splitting right down the middle  like you’re made of tissue paper. too. Pulling you to bloody pieces as they repeat oaths of husbandly devotion. 

  My wife.

  MY  WIFE.

  You wake up in darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. It disorients you, and you blink, expecting the cloud to clear from your eyes but it doesn’t. Immediately your hand goes to your stomach, and your frantic heartbeat calms just a fraction as you rest a hand on the gentle swell. The thoughts in your head are still an anxious jumble. Ransom, Lloyd, the party—

  God, the party. 

  Your stomach churns as you recall Lloyd’s cruel smile. 

  Tell him. Tell me what he says. 

  You clap a hand to your mouth as an anguished sob threatens to escape. Ransom, Lloyd… where had they taken you? You frantically feel your way to the edge of the bed, your feet slipping a little on the cool tile as you stand. 

  “H-hello?” You call out into the darkness, but there’s no response. Trembling, you begin taking short, halting steps forward, your hands outstretched. “P-please, someone—fuck!” You curse loudly as your foot catches the edge of something, a table, a chair, you can’t tell. “Answer me!” 

  No one does. 

  You wander forward blindly until you reach a wall, and, feeling along it, you feel plaster turn to glass. You gasp, frantically dragging your hands along the surface until feel something—a switch. You flick it up, and there’s a sound like whirring gears. The lights don’t come on, but something else happens instead: the blackout shades on the other side of the thick pane of glass begin to lift, light creeping in underneath the edge. It’s blinding at first, spots dancing in your eyes as you throw a hand up to shield them, but after a moment, they adjust. 

  You see… a beach. 

  An empty beach. 

  The clear blue water comes straight up to the window like an aquarium. There are no people on the pristine, white sand—no one to hear you as you frantically beat your palm against the glass. Frantically, you turn around to take stock of the room, grabbing for a nearby chair. You knock over the little coffee table in the sitting area next to you, but you don’t care. It takes all your strength to heft it above your head, screaming as you slam it into the glass—

  But nothing happens. It connects with a dull thud, the treated wood splintering as it cracks. The window is unharmed, barely even scratched. An anguished wail tears from your chest as you throw everything within reach that you can lift, beating everything into splinters until you’re left panting and sobbing in the wreckage. 

  “Sweetheart you know that really isn’t good for the baby.” You whirl around frantically, grabbing for the leg of a chair you’d broken into kindling against the indestructible-fucking-window, brandishing it threateningly. You hadn’t even heard the sound of a door opening—in fact, as you stare, wide-eyed around the room, trying to pin down his point of entry, you can’t seem to find a door at all in the lavishly decorated suite. 

  “Fuck you!” You snarl at him, your lip curling. “Let—let me out of here!” Ransom clucks his tongue at you like you’re an errant child.

  “You’re a smart girl, Love. You know I’m not going to do that.” 

  “You can’t fucking keep me in here—” Ransom shakes his head. 

  “I can, Sweetheart. And I’m going to. We’re going to.” He casts a disparaging look down at the ruined chairs and table by your feet. “Lloyd did tell me not to put the good stuff in first—I underestimated your temper.” The casual remark makes you want to swing your makeshift bat at his head. “He designed it for you, you know. I thought we could just lock you in the basement, but now that I see it, I think this is better.” 

  “You’re a monster.” You’re crying, hard, hysterical sobs that leave your throat raw and aching. He actually has the gall to look hurt by your insult, his face crumpling as his mouth presses into a thin, angry line. 

  “A monster that loves you. That would do anything to protect you—even from yourself.” Your body seizes with fear as he crosses the room in a few easy strides, gripping your shoulders with furious hands. You whine as he squeezes, pressing harder and harder until you drop the scrap of wood you’re holding. You don’t know this Ransom, this maniacal, cruel man wearing your husband’s face, your husband’s ring. 

  “Do you remember what it was like when we got together?” He asks. Ransom shakes you a little, like he’s trying to jog your memory. “Living at home with your parents, helping them with every single bill because you were terrified your sister was going to graduate high-school on the streets—”

  “So what?” You spit back. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” 

  “I gave you everything.” For the first time you see the same possessive madness in his eyes you’d seen in Lloyd’s. “And you think you can just walk away? Take from me until you’ve gotten your fill? That’s not how this works, Sweetheart.” He releases you and you stumble away, clutching yourself. He straightens his shirt, smoothing back the errant hairs that have fallen into his face. 

  “We’re going to give you such a good life, Sweetheart. You just have to trust us.” 

  “I will never trust you again.” You growl the words at him like a threat. “I hate you.” And then, inexplicably, he’s your Ransom again, his blue eyes soft as he looks at you, like he knows something you haven’t yet come to accept. Like an adult admonishing a child for fears they’ll soon leave behind as they grow to accept the way things are—the way they always will be. 

  “You won’t always.” His eyes flick down to the destruction you’ve wrought, and he clucks his tongue. “Maybe I’ll talk to Lloyd about bringing in some new furniture for you, if you’re good.” Ransom’s handsome mouth curves up into an amused smile. “Maybe something a little heavier.” He kicks at a piece of the table, before making his way back over to the other side of the room. A door the same color as the wall opens at his touch. 

“Lunch in an hour.” 

—

   True to his word Ransom returns with Lloyd in tow, a tray held in his large hands. You’d waited for this moment with a dark sort of anticipation, and for a brief moment, their stunned, angry expressions as the door panel slides open fill you with a sense of profound pride.

   You’d done your level best to destroy everything that wasn’t nailed down,  methodically and systematically taking apart everything you could get your hand on. Even the mattress lies ruined, feathers and wood splinters littering the torn cover. Though the mirror had refused to break—and indeed proved too heavy for you to lift—you feel a smug satisfaction in seeing what you had been able to accomplish with jagged pieces of plywood.  

  Fuck you. 

  Lloyd steps in first, squatting down to inspect a piece of the smashed coffee table. 

  “I told you we shouldn’t have put this stuff in here first. Empty room, Ransom. You always have to start with an empty room.” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles softly—affectionately. “Hi, Princess.”

  “Go to hell, Lloyd.” Ransom steps fully into your room then, shutting the door gently behind him before setting the tray on the windowsill. He sighs. 

  “I know it was stupid to hope your attitude had improved in an hour, but stranger things have happened.” He glances back at the tray. “You should eat something, Love. It’s been four days of—” His words become a static drone as the panic begins to set in. Four days? I’ve been out for four days? The questions fill your head almost faster than you can process them. Where are you? Your parents, your sister? What happened? 

  “What is this? What is this fucking place?” 

  The pride in Ransom’s eyes makes you want to vomit. “We made it for you. Just for you. It took—how long, Lloyd?” 

  “A year, give or take.” He rubs his fingers along the growing stubble on his upper lip. “And then finding staff…” He pauses. “The hotel, or just the Room?” The way Lloyd says room makes it sound singular, important. You cannot help but gape at them

  “You’re sick—both of you. Y-you—what you did to me—” You shake your head. “A-all of this.” You gesture at the room around you. “For what?” Lloyd threads his fingers together, and you can hear the soft metal click of his rings tapping against each other as he does. 

  “I know you’re not deaf, Princess. It’s for you.” 

  Cold trickles down your spine. You’ve been doing it ever since you woke up, running through each moment in the past four, five and cataloguing each one you couldn’t make make sense. You’re doing it again now,  thumbing back through the index cards of your memories and finding empty slots. Thanksgivings, Christmases, Easters—Ransom had told you it had been a year, but you can’t trust that, you can’t believe him, not after everything.

  “My family won’t let you do this sick fucking shit, you know that.” You spit. “They’re not going to let you kidnap me—”

  “How much is Nathalie’s school, Sweetheart?” Ransom asks, cocking his head. “Per year.”

  “What?” The question throws you off, the freight train of words in your throat piling up messily on your tongue. “What are you—”

  “How much is her tuition?” He repeats it slowly like you’re having trouble understanding him. You bare your teeth at Ransom as you grimace. 

  “I don’t know. She has a scholarship. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s $63,000.” Ransom gives you the figure so matter-of-factly it’s like he rehearsed it. “Per year.” Your stomach sinks, like your body knows before your head. “What, you didn’t know? No one ever reads the paperwork, do they, Lloyd?” He glances at his brother over his shoulder. “What’s it say on the checks? T. H. B. Inc., doesn’t it?” He licks his lips. “The T stands for Thrombey, Sweetheart.” 

  You almost want to laugh for the insanity of it all—you even try, but no sound escapes your tight, dry throat. Lloyd nods. 

  “Same as the ones your father gets. Funny how his company’s picked up these last few years, isn’t it?” 

  Your fists clench and unclench as you sit there on the floor, staring up at them. There’s nothing left to destroy, nothing left to break except the two of them—and you already know how that ends. Instead, you’re forced to sit there, hot rage coiling in your chest as the realization dawns cold and cutting—

  Your family is already bought and paid for, even if they don’t know it. 

  “I never asked you for this.” You spit, nails biting into the meat of your palms as you press angry fists against the cool tile. “I didn’t ask you for fucking any of this!” 

  “I promised to make a home for you, didn’t I, Sweetheart?” He squats down in front of you, his hand out like he wants you to take it. “A good husband provides.” It isn’t supposed to feel like being cut into a thousand pieces to hear his wedding vows regurgitated like this. His gaze drops to the ring still on your finger. You hadn’t noticed it until he did, and as he watches, you rip it from your finger with a violent twist, and throw it at him. He actually looks upset at this, a hint of his earlier rage passing over his features like a cloud. 

  You hate the way it makes your gut wrench because you want him to fucking hurt. It’s like your body hasn’t realized yet just who he is—who they are, and it makes you even angrier. You turn away, loose nightgown bunching under your thighs as you turn to face the wall instead. 

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Not until you eat something.” You aren’t sure if it’s Ransom that speaks, or Lloyd. You press your eyes shut and bite your lips to shutter the angry, frustrated wail that threatens to leap from your throat. “That’s not good for the baby.” 

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the baby.

  Good for the fucking baby.

  You want to hate it now; the child growing inside of you, even if only to spite the men standing behind you. But you cannot bring yourself to—and you hate that too. 

  Shame is not a new feeling, not for you, but it feels new today as you pick apart the plain chicken salad sandwich they had brought for you. Assume it’s drugged. You hate yourself as you tear off chunks with stiff fingers, forcing your mouth open and swallowing it down with a grimace. Assume everything is drugged. When you’re finished, you drag the back of your hand across your mouth roughly, tossing the tray at Lloyd’s feet. 

  He doesn’t pick it up. 

  “Good girl.” You shiver. It’s involuntary, and you know he sees it, the way his mouth twitches with the urge to lift into the smug smile you know so well. “Your wish is our command, Princess.”

  Ransom bends to pick up the ring wordlessly, and follows his brother out of your room. 

  —

  They don’t come back that night.

  You watch the sky outside the glass wall of your prison turn dark, and then brighten again with stars as you sit huddled against it, hugging your knees to your chest. You’re exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your body won’t let you, jerking you back to wakefulness as soon as your eyelids start to droop. The thoughts won’t stop coming either, cycling through on a loop you can’t seem to stop. 

  I wonder what Nat’s doing. 

  I wonder if they’re worried about me.

  I wonder what Ransom told them.

  You want to pinpoint the time your life went off the rails but you can’t, you don’t know it. College, perhaps? 

  When you’d met Ransom? Lloyd?

  You drag yourself away from the window after a few hours of staring bleakly out at the empty beach. It feels like too much to hope for that someone would happen by, not with the lengths they had clearly taken to secure you. The comforter bleeds feathers as you drag it to the floor beside the bed, wedging yourself between it and the wall. You know you aren’t safe—you’ve little control over that—but the solid press of concrete behind you makes you feel more secure. 

  It’s what allows you to finally fall asleep, though it is not restful. It feels like you wake every few minutes at every imagined sound, jolting back to consciousness and scanning the still empty room before quickly passing out again. You half expect Lloyd and Ransom to be back, waiting for you to open your eyes but when you finally do, you are still blessedly alone, but for the fresh tray in front of the door. 

  You wait for a few minutes, just to see if they emerge from your peripheral vision, the places in the room you can’t see from your vantage point—but they don’t. Everything is as it was before, the destruction from your earlier rampage still strewn across the floor. It feels surreal. Slowly, you pick your way across the debris and grasp the tray in your trembling hands. You don’t want to eat it, not really, but your stomach clenches and rumbles at the sight of food as you peek beneath the tray cover. 

  It isn’t anything special—another sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. You check beneath the styrofoam plate just to be sure, there’s no note, no nothing, and you cannot help but wonder when they’ll be back. They’re messing with your head, you know they are—and you hate that it’s working. You’re rattled, upset, anxious—just how they want you. 

  The urge comes again to pick up the largest piece of anything you can find and smash it against the window until it breaks. 

  We made it for you.

  Your stomach churns with disgust even as you take a greedy bite out of your sandwich. How hadn’t you seen yourself and your family waltzing right into the palms of their hands? How hadn’t you noticed? Lloyd had always been overly interested, overly gracious, even after you’d rejected him, and started dating his brother. You’re reminded of Linda’s curt smile and her slickly delivered barb. You tore them apart without even thinking about it. And Lloyd’s admission…

  It was more than a little crush.

  You don’t know how to reconcile the madness simmering behind your husbands eyes with the man who’d held your hands and said his vows. As he’d griped your wrists, staring into your eyes with his own fever-bright, you could barely recognize him. 

  You clean your plate, washing it down with the water before casting another look around the room. It’s blank, empty beyond the few pieces of furniture you hadn’t been able to destroy. No books, no television—nothing. You search the walls near the door panel, looking for something, anything that might make it open, but you find little. The smooth white keyboard does not respond when you push your thumb against the rubbery buttons, and the seam is so narrow you can barely wedge your fingernails into it to try and pry it open. 

  For hours you walk the perimeter of the room, running your hands along the walls, feeling no breaks in the smooth, cool surface. You have to get out of here—but you don’t even know where here is. How far you are from the resort, if you’re even on the same island. As the room darkens, you realize you’ve been pacing for hours like a caged animal, and neither Ransom nor Lloyd has come to check on you all day. Somehow, the thought fill you with apprehension. Not knowing when they might appear is unnerving, and you suspect they mean it to be. 

  You thread your fingers through your hair, tugging on it as you watch the sun sink into the sea, a panicked, claustrophobic feeling rising in your chest until you realize you aren’t breathing. You can’t stay here like this, you can’t—

  Before you realize it you’re running for the door, beating your fists wildly against the panel. 

  “Let me out! Let me the fuck out of here!” Your frenzied wailing rings in your own ears. It’s like you’re numb to the pain as you swing with all your might. You’re aware-even if only dimly—of the fact that your fists will be sore and aching later, bruised and beat to a pulp but you don’t care. Not if it gets you out—not if it gets you away from them. 

  “Ransom! Ransom let me out! You can’t fucking keep me here! You can’t!” 

  Nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge, and there is no answer to your increasingly panicked demands. You scream for hours. Until you’re hoarse, and your trembling fists ache to raise above your shoulders. Still, you bang your open palms against the panel as your firm insistence becomes a stream of nonsense pleas. 

  “Please, please don’t do this, if you l-loved me y-you wouldn’t do this!” Tears and snot run down your face as you collapse to your knees, exhausted. “Please.” You mumble, curling in on yourself in front of the door. The tears come again, and you don’t even try to stop them, sobbing open-mouthed on the cold tile, your hands fisting in your nightgown. 

  “Please.” 

  You lay there until the room goes dark. 

  —

  “I hate seeing her like this.” The cameras are good—too good. He can see the pain on your face too clearly, hear the betrayal in your voice just a bit too well through the speakers. 

  “You think I like it?” Lloyd asks irritatedly, and Ransom sighs. “She’ll even out soon. If not, you can up the mood stabilizer. She’s cleared for it until the second trimester.” Ransom knows his brother, knows that’s his version of comforting reassurance. “Besides, you’re the one that decided to play keep-away.” 

  Ransom looks at the camera again, at your softly moving shoulders. He’s both thankful and irritated at the hair covering your pretty face—but at least it blocks the sight of your tears. As he watches, you shudder—like you’re still crying, even in your sleep. 

  “I know. We have to make her grateful. For us.” He says, still looking at the screen. And he does. He understands the necessity of it—it was his plan, almost more than Lloyd’s. “I still hate it.” 

  “I don’t anticipate she’ll keep it up more than a week. Two, tops.” For the most part, Ransom has seldom ever found himself envious of his twin, but now he felt his lip curl with irritated jealousy at Lloyd’s confidence. “Don’t worry little brother,” he grins. “Our Princess will love us again.” He turns back to the cameras. “I’m sure of it.” 

To be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Run Free

art by me!

Price, Gaz, and Ghost visits the MacTavish Estate baring the news.

Word Count: 2.1k words Warning: Major character death, angst and comfort. Note : I wrote this fic a few days after I finished the campaign. I've always thought it weird why the 141 boys had Soap's ashes when I've always seen Soap as someone with a family and a had good relationship with them, especially since it's canon that Soap's cousin brought him to the SAS base several times as a kid. Here's my interpretation of that fact, on how Soap's urn ended up with the boys.

Price, Gaz, and Ghost wore their dress uniforms from head to toe, finding themselves in front of the MacTavish Estate in Glasgow. It was… big, to say the least. Soap’s family was known not only because a number of people from the family are serving in the British Royal Armed Forces, but also the fact that they are 7th generation furniture company - MacTavish Furnitures. Lots of members of the family are veterans turned businessmen, carpenters, or woodworkers. It is a common cycle of life for them.

As Ghost and Gaz stood, Price climbed the stairs and wore his beige beret, breathing deeply through his nose before letting the air out to prepare himself, lifting his hand to knock on the wooden door. The captain heard faint noises of multiple footsteps from multiple people and some voices of heavy Scottish accent from inside the house. He waited for a moment, until the door finally opened, but he found no one in front of him. 

“Who are ya?”

A little voice spoke from under him, prompting Price to look down. He found a little girl with blonde hair no taller than his knees. She’s absolutely drenched from head to toe in a blue swimming attire and had to bend her neck so high to see him. He bent down to his knees to match her height, before saying,

“Hello. I’m… My name is John.” 

“John? Like Uncle Johnny?” Her little voice said, face gleaming with happiness at the name.

“Yes. Like Uncle Johnny.” Price smiled, chuckling lightly. The girl grinned at his smiling face. “May I see your dad? Or mum?”

“Phoebe MacTavish! Get your wee feet here before I pick your legs off of that floo–! Oh, Hello there.” A new voice came from in front of him, revealing herself to be an old woman with dark brown hair, though with white strands and the same quizzical brow that reminded Price of Soap. She looked strong, nonetheless, wearing a green shirt and knitted vest with a towel hanging from one of her shoulders, obviously to dry the little girl after a session of swimming in their estate’s pool. 

Price stood back up, greeting the lady. “Mrs. MacTavish.” 

The old woman looked at his attire up and down, and Price swore that he saw the gears rotating inside her mind. She looked down at the girl and gave her the white towel, “Phoebe. Go inside and dry yourself. Find your Da, Aunt Rachel, and Uncle Hugh, too. Tell them to meet me at the front door, yeah?” The little girl nodded and ran inside, disappearing into the house as Price heard a faint yelling from the same child, calling for the stated family members. 

Now, the lady in front of him walked closer to the doorway, face to face with him. She’s undoubtedly no taller than 5’7”, a height that might have been receding as time went by, but you could spot a proud MacTavish wherever you see one. Price offered his hand for a handshake as she accepted. “Captain John Price from the 22 SAS Regiment.” 

“Joan MacTavish.” She replied. Price noticed the name as the name on Soap’s file as his guardian, with the relation being marked with ‘Aunt’. “What brings you here, Captain?” Her face looked neutral like it wasn’t the first time a soldier with a full dress uniform knocked on this wooden door. 

Just before Price could say what he wanted to say, a deep voice called to her. “Mum?” One woman and two men with a frame similar to him showed up from inside the house. One man was around Ghost’s age, one was around his age, while the woman in a bun looked older than him, though looking very vibrant and professional. All of them had the same thick eyebrows – Family traits, he supposed – and clearly looked like honourable but firm Scottish people. Upon seeing Price, though, their faces changed from confusion to realization. 

Price remembered that Soap was not the first MacTavish in the SAS. In fact, there was another member of the family, Oliver MacTavish, who died in the line of duty a decade ago. Price remembered the way Soap had told the story of Ollie, his cousin, bringing his little arse to the SAS base  - however unpermitted it was – and how Price had busted Soap multiple times for applying with a fake age. 

“Rachel MacTavish.” The eldest one spoke.

“Hugh MacTavish.” The elder man said, followed by the younger.

“Scott MacTavish. That was my daughter, Phobe.” They all shook hands with Price. 

He repeated his greeting, before Rachel started,

“I've seen the likes of you before. I recognize that beret even from a mile away." She said firmly. "Out with it."

The captain's breath hitched as he cleared his throat, preparing himself to deliver the news. And so, he began.

"On November 21st, our target had placed an active bomb inside the underwater tunnel that connects the UK and France. During our attempt to defuse the bomb, the target sneaked from behind our line of sight…"

The whole family's face changed, Joan's eyes looked glassy with tears seeming like she knew of the incoming words.

"And I regret to inform you… that Sergeant John MacTavish has died in the line of duty."

Ghost, without his mask and black face paint around his eyes, and Gaz with their dress uniforms and beret could only stand from the base of the stairs, watching and hearing as Joan's cry of anguish tear through the morning sky. 

"Oh Lord. Johnny. Johnny. My baby, Johnny." Joan repeated his name like a chanting to the sky. "Why must You take him so soon? Why must he join Ollie so soon?"

The whole family hugged their mother as she wailed, her knees looked like it was giving up. Gaz gritted his teeth to strengthen himself, not wanting to break down to cry himself. 

As the family cried, Price could only stand still, letting the news sink in for the family. His job as the leader of the team was done, at that point. He delivered the news to his family. 

"The bomb…Did he defuse it?" Hugh questioned in the middle of his sobs. 

"He–" Price swallowed, remembering the way Makarov had killed him. "We were both defusing the bomb, John guiding me along the way as he was the demolition expert."

"He protected me, Sir. Our target was about to shoot me, before John stopped him - and got killed instead. The target ran away, but me and Sergeant Garrick managed to defuse the bomb thanks to his prior guidance, saving thousands of lives underneath the 30-mile underwater tunnel." Price answered as Rachel looked up at his face, anger and denial filling her in an instant. 

She raised her hand in such a way that Price knew that she was about to slap him. Price still opened his eyes, fully welcoming the slap before her hand stopped. 

Rachel bit her lips so hard that it might bleed, lowering her arm.

"...Why does it have to be Johnny? Why do you get to live and he doesn't?" She barely whispered in a shaky voice, going back to wiping her face again. “Why Johnny…?”

And Price asked that question every single hour ever since his death. 

Why Soap, and not him?

—

The MacTavishes requested for Soap's body to be sent to Scotland, where they held a memorial at the MacTavish estate to which they promptly honoured. The number of family members participating was not that many, considering only the immediate family attended. Price, Soap, and Ghost joined them, and even escorted the family as they travelled to the crematorium.

After the whole procession finished – that took the entire day – the family finally had possession of the urn containing Soap's ashes, and they invited the three back to the estate, where they now sit inside the guest room and tea in front of them with Joan and Rachel, his urn placed on a table beside Joan.

That was the day they learned that Soap was actually the son of Joan's late husband's younger sister. Soap's mother – her sister-in-law, died when she birthed Soap, while Soap's father died during an accident in a factory before his own birth. 

Soap had been raised by his uncle's family since his infancy, growing up in the MacTavish house as a strong and firm Scott under the wing of the eldest brother, Oliver. 

"He's always wanted to be like Ollie, that wee kid," Rachel told them after holding a photo album containing photos of Soap when he was a baby in his late uncle's arms, a photo of him and his older cousins playing with mud, photos of his graduations from school, and photos of him passing the test to be a part of SAS along with his cousin, Oliver. "Said he didn't want to go to school. Just visit the army base every day. It's what he dreamed of."

Ghost, still in his dress uniform, felt the most vulnerable in that room - Without his mask, in front of Johnny's family. He also had been in agony for the past day, because he'd failed to cover Johnny's back. He had one job at that time, and he failed, catastrophically. He only sat there with his hands joined in his lap, not daring to look at the family in the eyes. 

"We're very thankful for John's service with us. He was the best there is." Gaz spoke, "John's memory will live with us."

"Thank you, Sergeant Garrick." Joan smiled as she looked up. "I heard you share the same quarters with him in the barracks. I hope he wasn't too much of a naughty boy."

The sergeant chuckled lightly at that, "Well. Soap wasn't someone who could stay away from mischief too long, but I assure you that he's an absolute joy and inspiration to be around." Hearing Joan's laughter cured a little part in Gaz, as the only thing he'd heard from her was the sound of her cry. He could at least pride himself in knowing that he could share Soap's merry nature.

As they share memories, Price finished his tea before he stood up from the sofa, followed by the other two. "Well. We must take our leave, Ma'am. Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime." Joan spoke as the soldiers started to leave the sofa, heading towards the main room and front door. 

"Which one of ya’s is ‘LT’?"

Rachel’s voice stopped the men in their tracks, particularly Ghost’s. All three men turned around, finding the woman holding Soap’s urn in her hands. Price saw how Ghost's face turned to that of a deer in a spotlight, so he put his hand behind Ghost’s back to lightly push him towards Rachel, but Ghost’s hesitancy was apparent in the way he slowly walked. 

“...That would be me, Ma’am.” Ghost’s deep voice rumbled softly as he looked down to Rachel’s height. The lady herself observed him up and down with a negative face that she could convince him that he was standing there naked. 

“Yer tryin’ so hard to make yourself look small for such a big man. It’s almost dreading.” She started, her hips shifting. “I’ve been the CEO of MacTavish Furnitures since my da’ passed away and Ollie decided to go to the army, and I read people like a book. For someone whom Johnny admired the most – and repeatedly spoke about – you don’t look like the LT I heard from him.” Ghost was starstruck at the statement. Soap, talking about him to his family? “I expected you to be cocky and exude pride in your steps, but all I’m seein’ is just a pathetic, sad bloke.” 

Ghost stood still at those comments. No one practically had ever roasted him this badly in front of his teammates. He wondered if he showed up in his other attire, she’d dare to say all this. But then again, if someone got to do it, he was glad that it came from an honourable woman of the MacTavish bloodline. 

What caught him off guard was her hands stretching towards him, holding Soap’s urn in front of his chest. Ghost looked down at the metal container, looking confused as he looked up again to face Rachel. He thought the MacTavishes were going to hold on to Soap’s urn, and they get to keep Soap’s dog tags. However, clearly, the current head of the family had other wishes.

“Take Johnny with ya. Being trapped inside this urn for eternity in this old house would be the last thing he wanted.” The woman started with a shaky voice, her eyes starting to brim with tears again. Seeing Soap’s character, Ghost could understand that completely. 

“He’s… the proudest he could ever be when he’s with ya’s." Rachel continued. 

"So I ask you, as our brother’s comrades, to hold on to Johnny – and free him.” 

Ghost’s eyes opened wide in surprise, still couldn’t fathom how fondly Soap must've talked about his teammates, especially him, to his family that they’d give him his ashes. Ghost lifted his hands to carefully receive the urn. 

After breathing deeply, Ghost stood straight, holding Soap firmly. 

“We will, Ma’am.”

—

The three of them walked towards the car parked just outside the MacTavish estate with Ghost holding Soap’s urn in his hands. They all took off their berets and entered the car, Price the designated driver, Gaz riding shotgun, while Ghost sat in the backseat. 

“So what do we do with him, Sir?” Gaz rotated his body to look at Soap’s urn on Ghost’s hands, same as Price.

Ghost contemplated in his mind, staring at the metal urn, before speaking, “Where’s Johnny’s place of birth?” 

Price answered immediately as he’s the one who took care of Soap’s documents. “Isle of Skye.” 

“Soap said there’s a beautiful cliff where he and his cousins used to go to play. Endless sea where the eyes could see.” Gaz added.

“Then that’s where we’re goin’.” Ghost spoke with finality. “And then we’ll let Johnny go.”

Price and Gaz nodded to each other. "Alright, Soap. Let's get you home." The captain started the car and stepped on the gas, beginning their journey towards the Isle of Skye.

---

I'm not okay. Thank you for reading! (T_T) reblogs and comments of your thoughts are much appreciated!

[angelpregdreams]

maggie the midwife 2

maggie the midwife (1) (2)

content: twin birth, fpreg

“Miss Maggie! Excuse me, Miss Maggie!”

Halfway down the small dirt path that led to her small cottage, Maggie heard someone call out for her. The voice was masculine and her brows furrowed in slight confusion when she saw a tall man in leathers jog up to her fence. She gave him a polite smile, “may I help you…?”

“Forgive me, ma'am - Quinn.” He introduced himself and stepped inside her gate, to which Maggie raised her brow. “I hope I'm not interrupting but my sister by marriage - she…her waters broke, and she sent me to find you. She's heavy with her twins and said you have been tending to her.” 

He spoke of Cecelia, a woman trapped in town as her husband went north to try and find work. She was heavily pregnant with twins and had been overdue for almost two weeks now. 

About time for them to arrive. 

“Ah, yes,” Maggie soothed quickly, to ease the poor man's mind. “I know your sister-by-marriage. Do I have a moment to collect my gear equipment or shall I send you to fetch it for me?”

The man paused, fully confused what she meant by that question and took several seconds before he shook his head. His dark hair bounced with the motion, and Maggie couldn’t help but stare as he finally came back to himself, which appeared to be confident. “You should have time, her water’s spilled minutes ago, she should be fine for a bit…right?”

His sheepishness returned and Maggie smiled, before turning back to the pathway towards her cottage. “Come then,” she called out behind her, “let me collect my things, then we can return to Cece.” 

Quinn followed behind her as she entered her home, politely standing outside until she asked for his help to carry her extra bag. Then he dutifully stepped up to take what she requested, eager to assist. He appeared almost puppy-like, and internally, Maggie found it very attractive. Her eyes diverted away from his frame just as he stepped back outside her home and turned to look at her expectantly.

“Do you have everything you need?” He asked, antsy that he had been away from his sister-by-marriage for several minutes now. 

Maggie nodded and shut the door behind her, “yes! Let’s make you an uncle, shall we?”

That made the tall man take on a lighter step, excited now, but knowing the rest of the night would likely tax his brother’s wife. Maggie noted his softer personality, while also donned in knight’s armor. It was a charming thing, a chivalrous knight with the brightness of a sunflower. Briefly she hoped he would linger with Cecelia, knowing she was alone without her husband near would have to be hard, perhaps Quinn would be a welcome comfort. And Maggie could admire him a bit longer. 

Cecelia’s home was tucked behind the main market, a bit hard to find as one had to wander deep into an alley, but Quinn walked there with familiarity when it failed Maggie, and they were in front of the small home. Quinn didn’t bother knocking, instead just stepping inside and calling out for Cece. Following behind him, Maggie slipped her smaller bag off of her shoulders and glanced around, trying to find the laboring woman.

It did not take long to locate her. Cecelia was sitting on an old armchair, her fingers digging into the arms as she moaned loudly in pain. Her skirts were hiked up onto her knees, still keeping some modesty, but her front laces were tugged at roughly, exposing one of her breasts. Maggie gave the woman a smile and placed her bag down next to Cecelia, asking Quinn to do the same with her other bag that had the clean linens. 

“How are you doing, Cece?” Maggie asked calmly and stepped around the two to enter the small kitchen. She found a basin of water and dipped her hands in, listening to Quinn come to Cecelia’s side, asking her again how she felt.

“I’m fine…” Cecelia said quietly, as she seemed to come down from her pain. She took the hand Quinn offered with a tired grin as Maggie came back into the room. Cecelia shifted in the chair, parting her knees slightly, and grimacing. 

“What’s wrong, mama?” The midwife came around to Cece’s front, kneeling in front of her and lifting the woman's skirts. 

“Nuh - just hurts…” Cece breathed, squeezing Quinn’s hand before looking up at him with wide eyes, “please, don’t leave…”

“Hush, girl, I won’t,” Quinn said without pause, getting on his knees next to the chair - politely trying to keep his eyes averted from where Maggie was now revealing the lower half of Cecelia. The midwife gave him a reassuring nod to encourage him to stay if the mother wished and pushed her skirts all the way up and guided her to lift a thigh, letting her have full view of her red folds. 

Cecelia was very swollen, her vagina bulging slightly as the first baby sat in her birth canal. Maggie was slightly surprised at the speed of the first’s descent but also was not sure when the pains started, simply when her waters broke. Quickly, and before another contraction happened, she pushed two fingers into the laboring woman, earning a gasp from Cece and an apologetic look from Maggie. Quinn’s eyes flicked over to Maggie and saw where her hand disappeared into, his cheeks turning pink slightly, before he looked away from both women.

“First is sitting low, honey,” the midwife commented, catching Quinn’s eyes before he averted his gaze, “have you felt the urge to push yet?”

A contraction took over Cecelia then, her body tensing and trying to curl into itself. She squeezed Quinn’s hand tightly and he visibly winced, but uttered not a sound as the woman in labor groaned loudly. With her fingers still buried in her charge’s vagina, she felt her walls tighten as her body rode the wave of pain. Maggie took deep breaths, trying to remind the woman to breathe. It worked, briefly. Cece huffed out harshly, before going immediately into another moan and Maggie felt the woman’s body tense - signaling her body pushing down on its own. 

Maggie opened her mouth to urge Cecelia to relax, but before she could speak, her fingers came into contact with a fleshy bulge. 

“Cece, dear - listen to me, how long have you been in labor?”

After several long seconds as the pain passed, she finally opened her eyes and quietly uttered, “about a day.”

“Gods, you’ve got to be kidding!” Quinn uttered, shaking his head slightly. Maggie gave him a soft look before pulling her hand free of Cecelia and dropping her gown back over her thighs.

“You are ready to start pushing, where do you want to deliver?” Maggie continued, not skipping a beat after his outburst. She had to get things moving so Cecelia could be as comfortable as possible, her body was ready to finish this quickly. 

Face now covered in sweat, the woman in labor grunted and shifted slightly to begin to stand, “The bed,” she muttered quietly. Instantly, Quinn was on his feet and sliding an arm around her waist, while Maggie grabbed a fistful of her gear and followed the other two to the woman's bed. Quinn placed her on the edge of the bed gently, taking his position next to her again without question. 

Cecelia groaned and sat back on the bed, her thighs spreading apart on their own as she began to push with the pain, urging her first deeper into her birth canal. 

“Good, just remember to breathe.” Maggie urged, tugging the woman's dress up and over her massive belly. It heaved with every breath Cece made, tensing as she pushed down instinctively. Next to them Quinn sputtered but thankfully said nothing. “Keep going, Cece, just like that.” 

“Ta-take this off…me.” Cecelia whined, tugging at her dress with her free hand. “Now!” 

Obliging, the midwife did as requested, letting Cece sit on the edge of the bed fully nude in her laboring form. Quinn, who was still quiet, turned bright red, but never left her side. It was admirable, Maggie thought to herself. 

“Oh, Gods! This is awful,” Cece continued groaning, her body pushing ever so slightly as the pain subsided then immediately returned. She cried out in slight shock and pushed down hard, her thighs spreading wide apart in an effort to give the emerging babe enough room. The instinct made her legs tremble, her body moving as if on its own accord. After a second, her free hand wrapped around the back of one of her thighs to pull it closer to her chest, screaming out in effort, “AHH!” 

“Good! Push, push,” the midwife continued to coo softly to Cece, smiling slightly as she watched the woman's dark pussy bulge even more outward. The head lodged itself between the woman's lips and Cece began to tremble, before she released the push, the head receding just a bit as she relaxed slightly. “That was so good, mama, another one of those and this baby will be crowning. You ready?” 

Cecelia gave Maggie a fierce glare, before gripping Quinn’s hand tightly, her face scrunching up as she bore down hard with her pain. Maggie's hand shot up to the woman's bulging lips, the head shooting out to almost a full crown. Slightly in awe at Cecelia’s determination and strength, Maggie didn't really notice the gush of fluid that leaked out around the baby's head. However, Quinn did not, his eyes lingering on what he was witnessing then trailing up Maggie’s arm, watching her as she assisted Cecelia in her delivery. His mouth dropped open slightly as he remained focused on the midwife between Cece’s legs on the floor. 

Her fingers spread around her charge’s stretched hole, applying a bit of pressure as the woman continued to push, oblivious to her husband's brother and his wandering amazement. 

After a few more pushes from Cecelia and no longer able to ignore his staring, Maggie's eyes flicked up to his, watching as he licked his lips looking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest and she was lost for a moment before she felt Cece push again, sobbing as she did so, the head stretching her straining and swollen folds as far as they could go. A cry of pained relief soon escaped the woman as the head lurched into Maggie's waiting hands, a very large puddle of fluid gushed over her fingers and onto the wooden floor. 

“Good, good job.” She uttered quietly, trying to ignore what she was suddenly thinking of while she was working. A bolt of shame hit her and she cleared her throat as if to clear her mind, “almost there, honey. I know you can do it.” 

Quinn seemed to catch on to what was happening and also returned to Cecelia’s side, his eyes now cast away from both women now. “You're close, it's almost over.” 

Nodding weakly, Cecelia pulled one thigh up and apart, and with the next pain pushed. She released a loud groan, pushing hard as the baby turned the remainder of the way and lurched into Maggie's arms, the baby instantly releasing a loud cry. Fluid dribbled out of the woman's swollen folds, but it went unnoticed by the women as Maggie smiled broadly and cried out, “you did it!” 

She quickly brought the child up to Cecelia’s chest, who just as swiftly wrapped herself around the crying infant, her own tears falling down her face. “The other one…” Cece trailed off with a sharp look of panic across her face. 

“Hey!” Maggie napped, watching the laboring woman begin to slip, “hey, Cece, you did it once, you can do it again. And it was so fast, it'll be alright.” 

The midwife had enough experience to say that was true enough most of the time. However, this was not like the others. Cecelia’s labor with the second continued for another hour. They trio worked and shifted every which way to spur on the second baby's arrival but it was trailing on. Cece had shifted to her hands and knees on the bed, rocking her hips as she moaned through her contractions. Now they were a never ending stream of tightness and pain, her body trembling even as Quinn tried to support her weight on his larger frame. Behind her, Maggie watched as the woman pushed, her opening bulging outward but never showing the head of the second twin. The first little one resting comfortable in a hand made crib near the bed, unbothered by its mother's plight. 

“I'm going to check where the babe sits, alright Cece?” Maggie asked, her hands on the woman's hips as she saw her release another push. Cecelia nodded weakly. 

Once again, she was close and the babe sat in her birth canal - that much Maggie could feel as soon as she pushed two fingers in. Her fingers bumped the wet head almost immediately but the progress was not happening as swiftly as the first. 

From his spot on the bed, helping rub Cecelia’s shoulders when she paused between pushes, Quinn gave Maggie a worried glance, his eyes lingering over where her hand disappeared before looking away. She was still staring at him when his grey eyes came back to her, this time giving her a sheepish smile. 

The midwife adjusted herself on the bed, his eyes getting harder to ignore the longer this went on and her body was alight at the attention. However, at this time, she had a job to do. Unable to really think of anything else, she met his gaze and mouthed the words, ‘focus now, talk later.’ Even as her body felt a thrum of excitement under his intense attention, she needed to focus as well. 

To his credit, Quinn nodded and continued his ministrations on Cecelia’s shoulders, which made Maggie look away and back at the weeping womanhood, a tiny sliver of the second baby's head now starting to spread the woman apart.

“It's too - nuhg - big!” Cecelia screamed as she finished her hard push. “Too big!” 

“I know, mama, this one is certainly bigger,” Maggie reassured her, her hand offering counter pressure around the pulsing heat between Cecelia’s legs. Her poor pussy was pink now, the taunt flesh pulled almost too tight around the crowning head, and Maggie knew it was taxing on the woman. “Keep pushing, I know you can do it.”

Crying, Cecelia obliged, her entire body shaking. She released a long moan and pushed down, her fingers digging into Quinn’s arms. “I-I…it's coming out!

“Yes, good girl! Push, push!” The midwife cheered on with a soft smile as she watched Cecelia’s pussy bulge even more outward, fully distended from her core. The head sat there for several long seconds, even after she released her push. That prompted her to cry out, even whimpering as she tried to immediately try to force the rest of the head from her. Maggie pressed her fingers around the head, Cecelia’s bulging folds pulsed under her hands, and she swore she could feel the woman’s flesh strain to its maximum. “Breathe, breathe, then push again.”

There was no indication that the woman heard her, but next to her Quinn rubbed her shoulders, coaxing her on with the promise it was almost over. Weeping overwhelmed tears, Cecelia sobbed and tried to take several deep breaths as instructed before gathering her strength to push once again. 

As if her resolve returned, Cecelia bore down hard, her hips jutting upward slightly at just the right angle to push against Maggie’s hand. It applied just enough pressure, along with Cece’s harsh push, the second baby erupted from her vagina, the body falling into Maggie’s waiting hands. 

Unable to contain her surprise, Maggie let out a chuckle and brought the babe up, rubbing its back firmly to urge it to cry. Which it did a split second later, the baby’s cry prompting the twin nearby to start sobbing. On the bed, shaking still from the effort, Cecelia laughed as well, rolling over onto her pillows and half leaning on Quinn. 

As the new uncle, Quinn looked over the moon, his eyes misted while looking at the newborn - watching as Maggie passed the newborn off to his sister-by-marriage. “They both sound so healthy,” he commented, sniffing slightly and looking at the filthy infant she held, “gods be good, you did amazing Cece.”

[oceantornadoo]

put me to bed (simon riley x f!reader)

part 6 of the two lieutenants series (can be read standalone)

—

“siii.” you knocked again. “simon, it’s meee.”

the door swung open and you almost stumbled through, the alcohol in your veins refusing to keep you upright. however, your reflexes won the fight for balance, right hand shooting out to grab at the door frame. you were face to face with simon’s pajamas, a relaxed t-shirt and sweats you’d never seen him in. it felt almost illegal, like this sight was meant for someone else. like you stole it.

“‘case you haven’t noticed, ‘s 2am.” his voice was low and gravel-filled. “i know, si. not even close to your bedtime yet.” the aching truth of your point, that he never sleeps before 3am, was softened by your drunk hiccup. you finally took the effort to raise your head, eyes locking onto his. he didn’t have his mask on, a sight you usually treasured sober, but now, it made drunk you mad. real mad.

“whatever, fuck this. jus’ wanted to say goodnight since you didn’t want to come out with us. with me.” you turned with a vengeance, stumbling in your going-out shoes as you made for your own room across base. before you could get too far, simon grabbed your arm, tugging you into his intoxicating presence. “had some paperwork to finish, dove. don’t get your panties in a twist.” you gasped. "i didn’t realize british people actually said shit like that. and", you punctuated this with a finger to his chest, “don’t think about my panties, riley. those words don’t exist to you.” he didn’t respond. typical man.

a few seconds later, he showed you why. he swooped you up bridal style with the gall of a military man who had to practice rescuing teammates in gear twice your size. he even caught your purse as it dropped to the floor, thick fingers wrapping around cheap leather as he settled all of you into place. “cheeky fucker.” he murmured under his breath, more to himself than to you. simon turned and locked his door, then strode down the hall like this was normal, everyday behavior. the swaying motion mixed with the drinks in your stomach and you gripped his shirt in fear that you’d throw up on. simon didn’t seem to care, prioritizing speed as he searched for your room. after a few minutes of charged silence, and prayers for a calm stomach on your end, he set you down with the gentleness of a man taking in a stray. all light touches, coaxing your keys out of your purse while keeping you upright as you swayed against him. simon opened the door and ushered you in with restrained arrogance, like he could tell you what to do.

“bed, dove.” instead of walking over to your bed, you gripped his bicep and held him in place. “no shoes. germs.” he chuckled, fingers ghosting over your cheek as he rubbed at your smeared makeup. “go’on.” you squeezed his arm as you bent down to take your shoes off. his hand found your lower back to balance you, but he was content to watch you struggle with your strappy heels. call it retribution for disturbing his night.

“can’t get ‘em off, pretty girl?” you shook your head, then remembered he couldn’t see you in the darkness of your room. “no…” he maneuvered you to your bed, ignoring your protests, and plopped you down, hands firm on your waist. “no light, si.” turning on the light would ruin this peaceful silence, would bring reality back into the mix. you weren’t ready for that, content to stay in this cloud nine as you sobered up and let simon take care of you. he answered you by taking off your shoes, one by one. simon was trying to treasure your sudden docileness, fumbling with your shoes as he thought of his next excuse to stay longer. maybe help you take your makeup off? he assumed you’d want to with that deliriously endearing mess of lipstick on your face. the image of you kissing someone at the bar arose unbidden in his mind, and he squashed it with a glare. unfortunately, that was when your hands had decided to explore his face in the dark, fingers tracing the lines of his anger. “i’m sorry. you’re angry. i just thought- but ‘sokay, i can do the rest. thanks for your help, l.t.” he jerked his head up at the nickname, a sudden nod to the context of your relationship, the two lieutenants of the 141. it felt dirty here, to put a light on all the reasons why this couldn’t happen.

“‘s not you, ‘s the shoes. bloody death traps.” he had finally finished the second one, slipping it off neatly so it wouldn’t dirty your floor. “what’s next?” you hummed in thought. “shower. no outside clothes in bed!” you ended with a cheer. simon wondered how you showered drunk all those times before him, then quickly regretted imagining you naked and wet. “come on.” he walked you two to your en-suite shower (perks of being a lieutenant, not that you were on base enough to take advantage of it). regrettably, he turned on the bathroom light, trying to ignore how your body scrunched up. “need my makeup remover.” you pointed to a blue container and he grabbed it. “i can do it-“ he genuinely shushed you with a finger to the lips, shaking his head. “show me.” he nodded to the unscrewed container. you took his fingers in your hand, dipping them into the oily balm. you moved them to your face, dragging them across your skin ungracefully. “then you kinda massage it in. make sure you get everywhere, can’t mess up my routine.” his lips quirked up at your sass. some things never changed.

simon moved his fingers around your face, rubbing off layers of foundation, setting powder, and everything in between. his free hand settled at your waist, keeping you steady under his touch. he took a pointer finger to your lips, dragging his callouses over your soft skin, memorizing the feel of it. he took care with your lashes, gently closing your eyes before rubbing off your mascara. he made sure to go up to your hairline, like he’d seen in the movies. simon riley didn’t know how to be gentle, but he’d try for you.

“now what?” the question moved through the still air as if breaking a trance. you almost flinched at the intrusion, having practically fallen asleep standing in his arms. “shower.” you croaked out, all soft and sweet. “can you unzip me?” he nodded even though your eyes remained closed, his hand on your waist turning you around until your stomach kissed the bathroom counter. using his clean hand, simon traced the bare skin above your dress before settling on the zipper. he brought himself closer, pelvis kissing your backside as he tried to control his body’s reaction. unfortunately, you noticed. he was starting to hate how visible he was to you, ghost gone to the wind.

“simon.” you rewarded him with a throaty moan, dropping your elbows on the counter as you pushed your ass into him. “please, please si.” he continued to drag the zipper down like he counted hear you, revealing each torturous inch of skin. “be good.” he growled, your spine straightening at the command. “lieutenant.” you were mewling under him, the dregs of alcohol making you all pliant. he didn’t want you like that for your first time together, putty in his hands. he wanted your bark and bite, which wouldn’t happen tonight. it didn't matter. ghost was a very patient man. “done.” you dropped your arms and the dress dropped with them, revealing your lack of bra and lace panties. here he was again, thinking of your panties. your eyes were still closed under the weight of the oil on your skin, giving him an unabashed view of your breasts in the mirror. perfect.

simon wiped his makeup-stained hand on his shirt, not caring about the marks it would leave. his thumbs met either side of your waist, digging into your skin and under your panties, pulling them down easily. you were wet between your thighs, proof staining your underwear. he sucked in a harsh breath at the evidence of your need, evidence it wasn’t all in his head. instead of pressing his nose to the source of your arousal, he left your side to turn on your shower. water running, he stepped back and put a guiding hand on your waist. “go’on.” you followed meekly, muscle memory taking over as you stepped into the shower. you tilted your head to the spray of water, clearing off your face. he chose to not close the shower curtain, opting to watch you clear the mess and open your eyes with a grin. “shower with me.” he shook his head, holding back a grimace as he watched the smile die on your face. "no, baby." always ruining things, like his fucking father. "then why are you here?" he shook his head again, regretting that the shower had sobered you up. regretting how he still hadn't closed the shower curtain, letting water spray on the floor as he drank in your body. regretting his clear lack of self-control when it came to you. "you know why." he closed the shower curtain and left.

he didn't actually leave. he was too weak for that. instead, he searched through your drawers, finding those shorts you always wore paired with his shirt you stole months ago and never gave back. it smelled like you now, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. the shower shut off, sounds of you brushing your teeth and putting on lotion floating through the air. he turned on your lamp and set out a glass of water, suddenly feeling awkward in your space. simon turned and there you were, water dripping on the floor, towel gripped loosely.

"i thought you left." he shook his head, forcing himself to gesture to the clothes he set out. instead of thanking him, you dropped your towel on the floor. simon hissed, sucking in the sight of your moisturized skin, the scent of it calming him. you, mostly sober now, trotted over to the clothes, putting them on nonchalantly. "if you won't fuck me, you can leave. i'm sorry for waking you up." lie. you both knew he was already awake when you knocked. simon had been texting soap for updates all through the night, knowing you were on your way back before you knocked. "c'mon." he ignored you completely, instead pulling at your covers to get you in bed. you rolled your eyes but followed his command, brushing past him as you got in bed. "g'night, dove." he turned off the lamp solemnly, no reflection of emotion on his face. "simon." he paused, holding his breath. "stay." you could hear him thinking in the dark. "not gonna fuck you. not tonight. it's more t' me than that." you smiled. "i know. stay."

--

i try not to write anything body size specific but i headcanon that simon riley is #thick in all the ways that matter and can lift anyone (even if you identify as a fat person or a tall person or anything in between) if he tries hard enough. i hope that sentence didn't take you out of the reading experience!!!

also i have no idea how military bases are laid out so ignore that

[uzubebe]

purgatory

type: one shot

pairings: dean winchester x fem!reader (mutual pining, friends to lovers?), sam winchester x fem!reader (estranged besties)

disclaimer: i don’t write often, but i’ve been rewatching supernatural and i have so many idea. this may not be the best, but just some self indulgence. i love sammy with my whole heart but he needed to be told off ok.

summary: the dick was dead. dean and cas were gone. and you didn’t rest a wink while searching for them. unfortunately it turns out dean wasn’t the only one sam abandoned that year.

“cmon there has the be something” you sighed, aimlessly scrolling through 14 open tabs on your laptop and a pile of messy papers scattered across the motel table. you slammed your hands on the table in frustration, letting out a shaky breath and gripping your fists tight.

it had been a year. an entire year without dean winchester. the second he vanished you had delved into aimless research in a desperate attempt to find him. you had to busy yourself, because thinking about his absence for too long caused an indescribable pain to open up in your chest.

you had only broken down three times in your year long search, which you figured was a record for someone going through what you were. you’d spent countless nights crying yourself into restless sleep, sleep filled with dreams and nightmares about the eldest winchester.

you crammed your hands to your tired eyes in a hurry, shaking your head vigorously in an attempt to wake yourself. you had to focus because you sure as hell knew sam wasn’t doing anything about it.

after deans disappearance sam explained that he needed time and space, which you understood. you cared for him just as much as you cared for his eldest brother. he had been your best friend for as long as you could remeber. and this was his brother, someone he didn’t want to learn how to live without.

you didn’t realize that time and space meant him also disappearing for an entire year with zero contact. you tried to understand him in the beginning, tried to rationalize why he would leave with no warning or explanation, because there had to be one right ? after four months you decided he wasn’t coming back and it was your job to find his brother.

you felt tears well in the corners on your eyes, inhaling a sharp breath and stretching your arms to regain your composure, gearing up for more research instead of dwelling on the loneliness.

you were pulled from your thoughts as your phone began vibrating vigorously from your bag. you quickly pulled yourself from the chair, feeling your body creak, this year had aged you in more ways than one.

you pulled your phone from the bag and froze. you narrowed your eyes, studying the caller id in absolute astonishment.

dean winchester.

you scoffed in disbelief, settling on the first emotion that bumbled up your throat, anger. you quickly hit the answer button.

“listen, i don’t know who the fuck this is. but lose this fucking number, i don’t have time for prank-“ you started spitting vigorously into the phone, being cut off at the gruff laugh that echoed through the speaker.

“…dean?” you whispered. it couldn’t be. how was he calling you?

“yeah, y/n. it’s me” he said softly, this time the tears came pouring out without warning, you let out a sad sob mixed with some kind of laugh.

“where are you? please tell me where you are.” you begged, he quickly gave you his address and within second you were tumbling into your car and speeding to him.

-

once arriving you let out a sigh, mentally preparing yourself for something you had been longing for for the last year. after 2-3 seconds of this you decided you couldn’t wait a second longer. you barreled out of the car and began your search for their motel room, suddenly turning into an olympic runner as you looked at each room number. you breath hitched in your chest as you finally arrived in front of the door. you knocked briefly before swiftly barreling into the room. nothing could’ve stopped you from getting inside that room, and there was no time for pleasantries and manners.

“dean!?” you screeched, scanning the room. your eyes landed on him as he stood from the motel bed to greet you, a sense of overwhelming relief washed over you as you ran to him.

within second you were in his arm, tears flooding your eyes as you buried your head into his chest. you felt an arm tighten around you waist, as he cradled the back of your head with his free hand.

“shh, it’s okay y/n. i’m here. i’ve got you.” he whispered, trying to calm you from the heartbreaking sobs escaping your chest. you gripped the back of his shirt, pulling him as close as you could, fearing that if you let go he may disappear once again. after what felt like hours and finally realizing that this was real, you slowly pulled for him allowing him a minute to truly study your appearance.

you looked exhausted. your hair that had been previously above your shoulders now hanging loosely below your shoulder blades, tangled and messy. the bags under your eyes had grown, and you looked like you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in ages.

“y/n…what happened? are you okay?” he asked, concern flooding into his pretty green eyes. you let out a laugh and wiped your nose. you moved from him slightly, opting to grip one of his hands to keep yourself grounded.

“uh..you happened. i’ve been looking in every nook and cranny in this god forsaken country trying to find you.” you explained, sending him a melancholy smile. he studied you, pulling you to him and setting a soft kiss to your forehead.

“thank you. i’m sorry. i wish i could’ve been here.” he whispered, setting his forehead to yours. you closed your eyes, smiling softly.

“you’re here now.” you realized, letting out a breath that it felt like you had been holding for the past year. it felt like you had been suffocating all this time, and seeing him finally allowed you to breath properly again. you were basking in this feeling, inhaling the fresh oxygen that would only be provided by the presence of dean winchester.

you were trapped in your thoughts, that was until you heard a slight cough from behind dean, interrupting your moment.

“if you’re going to say something. don’t.” you demanded moving from dean, and seeing his younger brother sitting awkwardly on the bed behind him.

“listen-“ sam began, but you quickly cut him on, shaking your head as you moved further into his view.

“no sam. i don’t have to listen. you left. crowley told you that you were on your own and you just took his fucking word and ran with it. i was here. i was here the entire time and you just left ! so you don’t get to tell me to “listen.” not when i spent the last year destroying myself to find your brother, while you went off and got a fucking dog.” you spat, sam straightened up slightly, fidgeting with his hands. you were shaking uncontrollably, the prior moment of bliss was being overpowered by the rage and loneliness you had kept locked up throughout the last year.

“how do you…?” he asked, trailing off as he tried to gain the courage to meet your eyes again. you let out a cynical laugh, balling your hands into a tight fist.

“yeah. i looked for you. i was concerned. i needed to make sure you were okay. but you’ll never guess what i found. to my pleasant surprise i saw you playing house with a pretty brunette and friendly little dog. so you’ll have to give me a lot more than a sob story about how you couldn’t handle dean being gone for me to ever forgive you.” you said, moving closer to sam. he hadn’t ever seen you this way, so angry. he had to admit he was slightly unnerved and almost scared.

“because you know who else couldn’t handle it ? me. but i didn’t just lose dean, i lost you too. i called you daily for weeks, desperate for some kind of explanation. i was going out of my mind, alone in dingy motel rooms without the two people i needed most. and then, after a few months, i couldn’t even get your voicemail, just an automated voice telling me i was desperately trying to reach a disconnected number.” you were seething. you felt like every vessel pumping your blood was boiling, your raging heartbeat pounding in your ears, you thought you might pass out.

“so i don’t want to hear about how there was “a girl.” because there was a girl here the whole goddamn time. a girl who had been by your side for years. and you. still. left.” you continued, sam found himself staring at the floor, studying its pattern, because he couldn’t take the look of absolute betrayal that consumed your eyes.

“and guess what ? i didn’t get the fairytale year you had. because my person, the one i wanted to be with. the one i wanted to settle down and get a fucking dog with, was gone!” sam flinched at your tone. by the end of it, you found yourself screaming, throat feeling hoarse as you finally took a breath.

you calmed instantly as you felt deans hand reach for yours. you inhaled a deep breath and turned to him. not even realizing you had practically confessed to the years of pent of feelings you had for the man.

“y/n. i understand. really, i’m upset too. angry even. but let’s take a breather, yeah? you need a good meal, and an even better nap. why don’t we get out of here, give each other some space, regroup later?” dean suggested. you hadn’t noticed his watery eyes and unsteady voice. he was brought almost to tears at the state you were in, at what his absence had caused. you nodded slowly moving closer to him. sam slowly stood up.

“just call me when you guys are ready. y/n…i’m sorry. i really am.” he whispered, you didn’t turn around to look at him. you knew yourself well enough to know that those puppy dog eyes would make you feel insurmountable guilt, they always had. but you didn’t regret what you had said, it was the truth. and right now, you weren’t sure what could help you forgive your former best friend.

dean gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. he looked back to sam and sent him a sad smile as he led you out of the motel room.

he stopped and turned to you once the door clicked shut. he studied you, narrowing his eyes as you suddenly became incredibly fascinated with the small rock next to your left foot. you forgot what it felt like to have him watching you so intensely.

“where were you?” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze, relief washing over you instantly, he was here. he was real.

“uh…purgatory. guess standing to close to dick when he died gave me a one way ticket to his afterlife.” dean explained, you scoffed slightly, mentally punching yourself at the realization.

“fucking purgatory. of course. i should’ve figured that out. god.” you cursed yourself, how could you have been so stupid ? of course he was in fucking purgatory. dean picked up on the fact that you were internally blaming yourself for his disappearance and immediately took action.

“hey. hey.” he whispered, settings his hands on either side of your face, forcing you to look at him. he bent down to your level, a stern look on his face.

“do not, for one second, blame yourself. none of this was your fault, and you’ve done more than i could’ve ever anticipated. i know it was a hard, even excruciating year, but i’m here now. and i’m not going anywhere.” dean insisted, you studied the look in his eyes. it was one you hadn’t seen from him before, or maybe it had been so long that you just needed to re-educate yourself on his mannerisms.

“okay. thank you.” you whispered, setting one of your hands atop his. he scoffed slightly at you thanking him, when they should’ve all been thanking you.

“cmon, let’s get you something to eat sweetheart.” dean smiled, moving to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and walking you towards the car. you nuzzled into his side, wrapping your arms instinctively around his waist.

“think i made sam cry.” you scoffed slightly, replaying the intense speech you shoved down sam’s throat.

“yeah well i’m thinking maybe he needed to hear it.” dean stated, you let out a sigh and nodded.

“and for the record, i would’ve really liked it. settling down and getting a dog with you. i wouldn’t have wanted to do it with anyone else.” dean declared, setting his lips to the top of your head, feeling him slightly smile into your hair. you’re smile grew, it felt like your heart was finally beating normally again. you dug your head further into his side in embarrassment.

“well i guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time.” you whispered, giving deans waist a reassuring squeeze.

“great plan, so we thinking doberman? golden retriever? maybe something small like a chihuahua or something?” dean joked, pulled you tighter into his chest with a laugh.

“shut up” you giggled, punching his chest playfully, sending him a big grin as he continued to chuckle. and since being back, dean felt okay again, at least for that moment. cause the two of you were together once again, and he had the ability to make you smile like that. he wanted to do it for the rest of his life.