#transcendent (coming home to you)

[dirt-str1der]

Saejima and majima are so guys that walk around the city for hours and then ask okay where are we going / idk i was following you / but i was following you

[ohhmydyosfics]

(Wonhan) transcendent (coming home to you)

hong seunghan is just a normal college student trying to go about his day when trouble crashes onto his doorstep -- literally.

it doesn't help when said trouble is hurt and comes with a rather large pair of luminescent wings.

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[celesterayel]

something out of my dreams | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x dionysus!reader

request: could you possibly write a luke x daughter of dionysus please? maybe she’s like super nice and when percy gets to camp she becomes like an older sister and luke is super whipped for her? @elz-zalarrr

IN WHICH — all he knows is that you were something out of his dreams.

"trust him like a brother, yeah, you know i did one thing right. starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night" - t.s.

w.c. 1.8k

warning(s) : cheesiness ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note okay i've begun to realize that low-key i feel like i write in cursive if that makes sense? if a feeling could describe it i'd say its like using poetry to write? that's likely not any better lol :)

there was but one person that everyone could agree they adored at camp half blood.

it didn't matter what grudge who had with whom or what ancient rivalries transcended the ideals of reality, everyone loved you. not the typical type of brittle love that crumbled at the slightest of touches, but pure adoration that endured the sands of time.

you with the gentle soul, who healed others with each laugh and smile. when new half-godlings were brought to camp, you made sure to comfort them and make them understand that they belonged here and would find a home whether they wanted to or not. you made sure that no birthday was forgotten, no deed undone.

children of minor gods or elders, of Ares or Aphrodite, you became an older sister to all who needed you. you, the daughter of fertility and chaos, the god dionysius.

there was no debate that at camp half blood there was only a before you and an after you. you were like that high right before the free fall–invincibility and smoke and curiosity wrapped into the form of a demi-god. you were the gentle breeze during summer nights when the heat became too much. and none ached more to feel it than luke castellan, who had been burning for as long as he knew.

your relationship in itself was tentative, you danced around your feelings–scared one wrong touch or word would break the shaky, fine line that lay between you two. but you could not hide the way you loved the other to yourselves nor the children of the beings of divine blood. 

luke castellan loved you like the stars would fall out of the sky with one harsh touch, free and incandescently self-destructive. like you were a wild, wonderful thing out of a fantasy.

you loved him like there was no hell or heaven but the cosmos that lay in his eyes and the worlds that lay in his soul. something so sacred and rare. a love so true and mortal it put all the greek tragedies to shame. 

you knew that whatever you and him were made of, in every lifetime or the next you two were made for each other. 

loving luke castellan would be both your redemption and destruction in the making, your elysium for whatever good thing you had done in your previous life. 

✩ ‧₊˚

you first met percy jackson when he came to camp, he was a scared little thing who had just lost his mother when the veil between reality and deception flickered. everything he’d known came crumbling as quickly as the truth was uncovered: gods and monsters were real and played games of hell and heaven on earth. some thing about him called out to the vulnerability you once knew when you first came to camp so you made it your mission to be the sister he never had. 

you met him at the front of the steps of the main office, “my name is y/n, percy jackson. welcome to camp halfblood.”

“do you just somehow know everyones name,” he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“yes.” no, but you supposed it’d be fun to let him think that. 

“of course you do.”

“come along, i’ll show the ins and outs here. if you're nice enough, i might let you in on the cook's secret stash of blue ice cream,” you laughed out.

he contemplated his choices before grabbing your outstretched hand and shaking it, “deal.”

you showed him who to avoid and the best people to befriend. the history between your kind and why the gods were as they were. the truth behind his bloodline and the legacy that he was now responsible for. the tribulations and the pain that was cursed to follow the children of the gods. 

“and this is chris. the best person to ask if you need to know what plants are poisonous,” you say, introducing him to a guy with black hair and soft eyes. 

percy looks at chris before looking around to see where the hermes boy is, “we’ve met. he was with luke when he was showing me around”

you’re cheeks heated at the mention of his name; looking around to see if you can spot the familiar tan skin and soft eyes that belong to your luke. 

“oh! luke! yeah, he’s around here somewhere. he’s sly like that, wandering and then popping up the next second.”

a voice pipes up behind you suddenly, “y/n, already telling percy everything about me?” 

you whirl around and there he stands in all his glory with the curls you love and the sun in his eyes. your golden boy.

“just telling him the truth, castellan. you’re hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

a hue of pink covers his cheeks, “i’m never far from you.”

both of you oblivious to percy and chris who seem to be conversing about you both and the tip-toe dance you play. 

percy just wonders what’s happening here: firstly, luke is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars and that’s saying something because he has shit observation skills–his analysis essays can attest to that. secondly, he swears he can see hearts in his eyes from where he’s standing and is that…is that a blush?

he turns to chris, who is just staring at the two like it's not out of the normal for what’s happening, “what’s happening here? is he blushing?”

chris just nods, “yeah. luke’s kinda–very obviously to everyone–in love with y/n. if i didn’t know better i’d say she’s gotten him insane in love. very likely as her dad’s the god of insanity.”

he turns back to the two who are laughing and standing closer than before, “like super, super in love. if there was a word for love, luke’s found it”

“huh.” 

chris says it like it’s common knowledge like how the best food is blue jelly beans, “i mean i ship it, y/n’s the sweetest person around here–the type of person people write songs about. she’s like a sister to us older ones and a mother to the younger ones. the whole camp is waiting for him to just man up and ask y/n. they make each other happy, you know?”

“yeah, i think i do.” 

percy thinks it’s something the poets would write about.

✩ ‧₊˚

fridays are capture the flag days.

you’re not the type of person to engage in these types of games all that often but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. someone’s got to show the percy boy how it’s played. 

“okay, percy. remember, keep your senses open and make sure that no one gets close enough to engage. once they engage, it’s hard to fight them off.”

all around you two, people have begun to don their armor and raise arms. the sun has just reached its height and you’re huddled together discussing your gameplan. even though your cabin house is pretty small, you’ve joined athena and hermes for this game. 

percy’s voice rises a little high as he tries swinging his sword around only to drop it, “yeah, okay. i’ll just try not to die, i guess. that’s not like hard or anything.”

“just follow my lead and if i’m not here find luke.”

you're not exactly excited about percy’s odds. the kid is lanky as is and his sassiness doesn’t help him out much when others target him for it. 

that’s exactly why you’re gone to his rescue when he nearly gets hit in the face by a spear after he insulted one of the boys from house ares. 

your heel nearly buckles under a sharp hit after you block the attack that’s directed to percy. you manage to reset your heel and push the sword off before you drop down into a crouch and sweep the legs of the warrior in front of you.

unfortunately you're slightly too focused on what’s in front of you and protecting percy you don’t realize that someones charging toward you from the side. 

fortunately, a block from a familiar sword stops any attack that might meet you head on. no sooner do you hear the block that luke’s got the other guy on the floor and surrendering. 

you grin at him, “i had that handled.”

giving you that grin that makes you feel like your future's right in front of you, he replies: “i’m sure you did. but why let you deal with him when i can save you the trouble.” 

“why don’t you go and help annabeth win the games, romeo.”

he gives you a wink, throwing a quick ‘yes ma’am’ before he’s already running off again. 

no sooner than later, a quick gong resounds throughout the camp, concluding the games. you’re standing slightly battered while percy walks behind you pointing out all the flowers he’s found. you definitely need to teach him how to defend himself. 

the players are just trickling in for the woods they’ve been fighting in to reband together and in the distance you see a figure running toward you. 

holding onto the flag, he continues to look at you like you’re everything he’s ever needed to breathe. he’s taken his helmet off and you can finally see him fully: brown eyes and all dimples.

“see you’ve found the flag.”

he takes a couple of steps closer to you until only two steps separate him and you, “yeah, someone told me to go win the game so I did just that for her”.

“really now?”

he whispers, “yeah.” 

his eyes twinkle and you’ve never wanted anything more than to continue to stare at them. 

you hope he’ll make the next move but luke castellan, the boy you’ve fallen for in every lifetime, is always content to admire you.

so, you take those two next steps, grab him by his neck, and press your lips to his. 

he stands shocked for a minute, wondering if what’s happening is really happening. but no sooner, he’s dropped the flag on the grass and holds you like your the greatest treasure he’s ever had.

there’s a certain type of tragedy that your golden boy tastes like, fire and freedom all in this moment. it’s the price of redemption and damnation that you’re willing to pay. 

to him, it’s the stars aligning like you’d will them to–the power you held and every thing he’s ever needed. your his past, future, and present: the threads in his life giving him the one thing he’s ever wanted. something he’s only ever dreamed of. 

he pulls back slightly before murmuring, “in every lifetime or the next, i am yours. i don’t know what i did to deserve you. you’re something only out of my dreams, y/n.”

"you sap"

you just kiss him again, ignoring all the campers and those still trickling in. 

✩ ‧₊˚

“definitely a child of dionysius. she’s reduced him to insanity,” pipes up percy as he tears off the petals of the flower he holds in his hand. 

chris just grabs a flower and continues to rip the petals off like the boy beside him. 

“damn straight!” shouts luke toward the two.

[arcadia345]

❃Astrology observations❃

Masterlist

Not a real astrologer just my observations:)

❃ Aquarius moon femmes tend to be more masculine/tomboyish whether it be their personality or fashion sense they prefer loose fitting clothes. They have this nonchalantness/offstandish energy about them, they also are very sensitive and receptive to energies around them esp after one on one interactions but surprisingly do very well w online interactions💀they could feel like their personality shines brighter online than irl

❃ 12th ruler in 7th natal partners could have animosity towards you esp if you prefer men they tend to have secret intentions/lives

❃ Sagittarius in your natal chart is where you tell the best stories, and gemini can show where others ask for advice/tell their best stories to you(and lowkey try to impress you)

♐︎ in 1st -you ARE the story, there’s never a dull moment ,so many memories are made w you, many stories where you had to be reminded that your that GIRL/GUY✨ (esp by your guides)

♐︎ in 8th- they articulate their trauma very well, the ones that talk openly about their abuse, lots of near-death stories, surgery stories that they almost didn’t make it out of, thieving stories

♐︎ in 11th- the type to bring their friends into every situation/story, most likely to do the best story time vids online, their stories can be eye opening for the collective, people love when they predict the future, stories about the future/goals of humanity, evolution stories, stories about you gaining independence(just like 1st)

♐︎ in 12th- they love to hear about your dreams and conspiracies, they love when you talk about your insecurities and spill your own secrets, your paranormal experiences and things about past lives

♊︎ in 2nd- they love to tell you how hard they work for their assets, “You know I haven’t told anyone this but I feel like I can trust you.” They don’t mind telling you about their illegal activities, people have a tendency to think you took something from them, they come to you for advice on how to approach situations

♊︎ in 5th- the type to have kids come up to them and all their parents business (4th house also), the best childhood memory stories, people try to impress you w their sex stories , they come to you for advice on sex and love matters also, asking for your opinion w fashion & aesthetics, you make them want to try new things🥵

❃ Taurus in the 3rd/4th find it hard to leave their family/home

Cancer risings (4°16°28°) their face and body fluctuate through life but their faces tend to get rounder/fuller as they age

❃ Sending love out to Venus in Pisces/12th house natals y’all are what fairytales are made of🥺 just being in your presence is healing even tho they feel sometimes their deepness and devotion isn’t reciprocated at times idk who needed to hear this but your loving energy transcends the physical barriers you could do a lot of energy work on the other side w/o even realizing it esp while sleeping🧡

❃ I feel bad for Chloe because w that Gemini mars baby everybody always gonna think you doing too much😭 unti you don’t do enough & they’ll still be mad

Finding out Lil uzi has a Gemini mars sent me💀 it reminds of them vids of their security guard trying to keep up w them while they jump all over the place🕺🏽

❃ Sag moon children mom was in her hoe phase when u were conceived. Partying/traveling/drinking/learning was prominent for her at the time

Venus in natal can show you why others envy you

♀ in 2nd- they envy how consistently you upkeep yourself, they see how much money you put into yourself to look good, they hate how materially abundant you are, how easily you make money from your talents/assets, they envy your sugar daddy/baby energy

♀ in 4th- they envy how abundant your family/ancestry is, they envy your mom/your motherly skills, how easily you make a house feel like home, how rich your inner world is, your decoration sense, how easily you’ll be remembered after passing/leaving home, how easily you make money from home

♀ in 8th- they envy how easily others trust you esp w their money & possessions, how beautifully you shed your skin in transformations, sugarbaby placement, how magnetic you are, how easily people become obsessed w you, your way of love making/showing love/spoiling others or vise versa

♀ in 12th- a lot of people don’t even realize that they envy you/ subconsciously send you evil eye, you provoke their hidden desires(this place def has lots of people in their circle wishing on their downfall) they envy how content you are with yourself /and how you’ve healed yourself , your music taste

I feel like prominent Pisces placements tend to lose their teeth more often than Capricorns, could also have dreams of teeth falling out/rotting

❃ Prominent Virgo in natal stay cleaning up other people’s 💩💀 like literally tho at some point in your life you’ve had to be some type of caretaker ie. animals, elderly, babies. But 💩 is more prominent/consistent in your life

But if ur a pet owner or caretaker in general you know that a lot of times the only way they can communicate what’s going on w their body Is through their bowel movements so it’s a blessing and a curse cuz it’s not like your obsessed with 💩 (unless👀) but you kinda have to be😭

Aphrodite in Gemini/3rd house natals have contagiously attractive laughs/smiles, delicate hand and arm movements, and beautiful hands and lips

❃ Every time I have prominent 8th synastry esp moon/mars we always have 🩸 sex eventually 🧍🏽‍♀️ they be feigning so bad for you that they can’t wait a few more days they need it now! But they always end up saying you put a spell on them like no bro u willingly put a spell on YOURSELF💀

❃ 7th house mercury could attract or prefer younger/pettie people or they are seen as such, also prone to have partners w prominent anxiety

❃ Eros/mars in Aries/cancer/scorpio in composite charts shows lots of crying during sex but for different reasons

Aries cries because ur f*cking/sucking them so good all they can do is take it like a champ and cry happy tears 🥲

Cancer cries because you truly touched their soul🥺 they never thought sex could be this satisfying and comforting at the same time (healing sex like Pisces)

With scorpio it’s kinda a mixture of both w sprinkles of trauma bonding✨

❃ Venus in 8th synastry- adoring eachothers beauty marks esp the house person @ Venus , the house person usually adores the Venus’s insecurities/stuff about themselves that they never picked up on which gives the Venus person a new prospective of their beauty

❃ Mercury synastry can tell you how you were first introduced/heard of each other

☿ in 8th- meeting while/before going through a transformational/traumatic period in your life, you could have problems w people owing you money or vise versa, catalyst for spiritual & sexual growth, meeting before/after having a major surgery

☿ in 9th- meeting through college/highschool,being introduced to/by a different ethnicity friend,meeting while traveling esp abroad, catalyst in spiritual journey, meeting through religious community

☿ in 4th- I have this w my mom while her ☿ is in my 1st so you could also share this w your parents, w cancer and Aries basically representing the womb her PUMPUM told her about me😂obvi she had no other choice but to learn about me I was coming weather she liked it or not😎 so w 1st house synastry I feel like they were kinda forced onto you they’re pretty hard to miss🥴with 4th her aunts/women in her family told her she was gonna have another baby before she even knew🤷🏽‍♀️

❃ Jupiter in 1st synastry -even the most stubborn person would hear planet person out w this placement 😏 Jupiter boost house persons ego/outlook on life, planet person just makes everything look good & exciting in house person eyes

❃ Pluto in 11th natal- unfriending someone could really feel like a divorce lmao telling people your not friends anymore and they react so crazy like “NO I NEVER WOULDVE THOUGHT💔💔💔” then splittng up your assets (friends/aspirations)

❃ Gemini Venus-girl next door vibe people watch through your window esp w some Pluto energy on your Venus, the song ‘She by Tyler the creator’ was made about us fr😭

❃ Taurus (2°14°26°)moons people think that they own you or that you’re some object they can use anytime they want whether it be your body or your possessions

Also having a Taurus moon could play out as feeling like you didn’t get the support that you needed in ur childhood, the type to have moms that say “I put clothes on your back, food on your plate, and a pillow to lay your head and you’re telling me I didn’t do enough for you??😠😤” like sorry I needed emotional support and understanding as a child that you couldn’t give me🥲 the mom could see the child as spoiled/ungrateful esp with harsh aspects on the moon, but they could also just feel like they have a right to your possessions esp if you live in the same house what is privacy?😀

❃ 6th house synastry is big on planning together,the type to count down the days till they get to see e/o 🥰

Now offering aura & synastry readings

That’s it for now, have a blessed day ✨

[plutonianeris]

Asteroid Nymph (875)

I want to be forever young

Do you really want to live forever?

1st House or Aries: Your beauty doesn’t fade because it’s rooted in a bold authenticity that only grows stronger over time. You age with grace, yet retain that striking energy that leaves others captivated, as if the years only deepen your allure. You never fail to captivate when you step into a room and your beauty will only continue to bless you as you grow older.

2nd House or Taurus: Your beauty is deeply rooted, grounded in a serene, natural essence. Agelessness flows from the way you embody sensuality with ease. You carry a Venusian glow that makes people see you as eternally youthful, yet richly mature. The calm, luxurious way you carry yourself gives the impression of a classic beauty that never fades.

3rd House or Gemini: Youthfulness is your trademark, and your beauty feels forever playful and fresh. The lighthearted, curious energy you bring to each interaction keeps your appearance vibrant, as though untouched by time. Your mind, wit, and animated expression are what captivate people, giving you a charm that never seems to age and always feels new.

4th House or Cancer: You radiate a soft, nurturing beauty that others find eternally comforting. People see you as someone whose warmth and emotional depth create a unique allure. This ageless quality comes from your ability to make others feel at home in your presence. Your beauty deepens like a vintage treasure, gaining richness with time but remaining timeless.

5th House or Leo: You shine with a captivating, sunlit beauty that refuses to dim. Your natural charisma is ageless, and your presence lights up any space like a work of art. The joy and creativity you carry with you radiate through your appearance, making people see you as endlessly vibrant and youthful, as though you were designed to remain dazzling at any age.

6th House or Virgo: You possess a graceful beauty that others find quietly stunning. Your refinement and attention to detail keep your appearance fresh and elegant as the years pass. Agelessness is in the way you carry yourself with simplicity and care, making people notice the enduring purity and calm of your presence.

7th House or Libra: Your beauty feels balanced, harmonious, and effortlessly captivating. With Libra’s influence, you embody an ideal of beauty that transcends age. People are drawn to your charm and grace, perceiving you as someone whose allure only grows with time. This placement brings a classic, even ethereal quality to your presence, like a timeless muse.

8th House or Scorpio: Mystery and intensity define your ageless beauty. You have a magnetic, almost hypnotic allure that people are drawn to without fully understanding why. This placement ensures your beauty has an eternal quality, as though it’s woven with hidden depths. The years only add layers of intrigue, making others feel that you’re a rare, unchanging force of nature.

9th House or Sagittarius: Your beauty is adventurous and boundless, untouched by age. There’s a spirited openness to your appearance that feels timeless, as if life itself has blessed you with an enduring vitality. Your love for exploration and freedom shows in your eyes, giving you an ageless sparkle that captivates others, like a wanderer forever young.

10th House or Capricorn: You possess a dignified beauty that matures like fine wine. Capricorn brings a sense of structure and strength to your allure, making it only grow more refined as time goes on. Others see you as someone who commands respect through sheer presence, and your age only deepens the power of your beauty, like a figure from a legend.

11th House or Aquarius: Your beauty is as unique and ageless as you are. There’s an unearthly, free-spirited quality to you that defies conventional aging. People see you as someone who’s always ahead of the curve, untouched by time, with an appearance that remains as fresh as your ideas. Your beauty is captivating because it’s truly one-of-a-kind, timeless in its originality.

12th House or Pisces: Your beauty has an ethereal, dream-like quality that feels eternal. You seem to exist in a space beyond time, with an allure that is both soft and mysterious. Others feel drawn to the otherworldly aura you project, sensing a beauty that is not bound to age or even reality. You embody the timeless beauty of a dream or a myth, forever enchanting.

[mariasont]

Talking to a Brick Wall - A.H

a/n: rip erin strauss you would've hated this fic

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader

summary: in which you overhear your boyfriend aaron's phone call

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, self-doubt, happy ending but also a terrible ending bc i SUCK at endings xoxo

wc: 2.3k

You had called out your boyfriend's name multiple times as you wandered into his house. He had asked you a while ago if you wanted to come over for a movie night tonight and hell would have to freeze over before you ever declined that offer. However, upon arrival, you were greeted by silence; no response to the doorbell, his phone, or your voice. Thankfully, the key he'd given you last year jingled in your pocket as you let yourself in.

You had a pretty strong suspicion he'd be in his office--after all, this was Aaron Hotchner, a man who definitely did not believe in leaving work at the office. 

And sure enough, his voice filtered through the slightly ajar door, the rich hue of his mahogany desk framing the gap. You were about to move towards the living room, assuming he was on a work call of some sorts, but his words stopped you dead in your tracks. 

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm speaking, but the understanding isn't there. You know what I mean? It's like the concepts just float in one ear and out the other."

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, brows drawn together, as your hand found the wall, leaning towards the door. He couldn't have been talking about you, right?

"I try to share details, to get her involved, but it's met with this vacant nod. As if the depth of it all just doesn't register."

Oh. Her. You tried to fan away the wetness that threatened to fall down your cheeks, each rapid motion a desperate attempt to convince yourself you were imagining things. 

"And I'm patient, I really am. But when you're met with that blank look, it's... disheartening. You start to wonder if it's worth explaining at all. It's like talking to a wall."

Okay, that stung. It was like an immediate punch to the gut, your heart seeming to drop into the pit of your stomach. Your shoulders slumped slightly as you tried to rationalize his words, but nothing was really making sense right now.

The internal battle was a cruel one: stay and endure the sharp sting of his words or leave and miss more of what he had to say. The latter won, pulling you away from the door. 

You knew you were never going to be the smartest person in the room, and in the past, it was a source of deep-seated insecurity, always a silent specter in the corners of your mind. But then you met Aaron. And he made everything just better. His own intelligence and impressive job never became a yardstick for your worth; he ensured you knew you were more than enough, just as you were.

He had always been the voice reminding you that you were smart in your own right, telling you that your worth transcended any numerical measure of intelligence like a stupid IQ score. But now you were questioning everything. 

Anger seemed like the appropriate response, right? But it was hard to be when his words carried a weight of truth to them. 

You did have a hard time keeping up when he talked about the complexities of his cases, sometimes feeling like an outsider looking in. But, even if you didn't understand, his passion for what he did was infectious, and you hung on to every word when he explained all the ways his smart brain was able to deduce things about people. 

Still, a part of you imagined it was hard for him, that it probably got old fast when you weren't able to hold an intelligent conversation. 

Your knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and it somehow took you only ten minutes to get home when it should've taken you twenty.

It was only when you had taken a shower, put on your favorite pair of pink sweats, brought out some Ben and Jerry's, and turned on Legally Blonde, did you check your phone.

Hi honey. What time are you coming over?

You tried to ignore the sensation of an invisible band drawing tighter across your chest. 

so sorry, not feeling good. rain check? xoxo

You hated lying to him. Hated lying in general, save for the occasional white lie to protect someone's feelings. The fact that you weren't lying to his face was a small mercy, because obviously he'd be able to see right through you.

Do you want me to come there? I can bring food.

You wanted to be with him, you really did, you had been counting down the days to this movie night all week. But the thought of sitting beside him, wanting to ask about his day, about his work, now seemed like an intrusion. Knowing that your well-intentioned questions might be a chore for him or a source of frustration. The realization pressed down on you, a heavy weight that threatened to snuff your light.

no that's okie! thank you though <3 i don't want to get you sick!

Your phone was ringing, his name lighting up the screen for a FaceTime call, it felt like a betrayal of your own making. It was a skill you had recently taught him (which took forever), and of course now he was using it. Your finger jabbed at the red button, your cheeks turning the same color. 

i look & sound disgustinggg rn

I know for a fact that's incorrect. You have a magical talent of looking incredible no matter what.

I want to see your pretty face.

you can be so flattering when u want to mister!

im going to take some medicine & then ill call u l8, k?

Hmm, okay.

love u! xoxo

I love you too, pretty girl.

You hated this. Your eyes were puffy, swollen and wet as you discarded the phone onto the nightstand. He deserved someone who wasn't so pathetic. 

You wallowed in self-pity all night, and then all day, and then all week. You went through the motions--getting up, going to work, and then making up some lame excuse when Aaron asked to see you. Name it, and you had probably said it. In reality, you had been holed up in your room, trading glossy magazine pages for confusing behavioral books.

The subject matter was as dull as dishwater, making paint-watching seem thrilling. But you were committed to bringing some depth to your next conversation with him.

Today's excuse had been some half-truths about being buried in work--which in hindsight seemed comical, given you worked at a bakery and there wasn't much that could take up your time outside of contract hours.

You were splayed across the couch in an upside-down sprawl as you attempted to focus on the scholarly gibberish that filled the pages. 'Homology,' 'dichotomy,' and 'typology' melded into a migraine-inducing blur, tempting you to slam the book shut. You were fighting every urge to throw it out the window and paint your nails with that new glittery polish you've been dying to try.

At the insistent knock, you clapped the book shut (thank god) and stood, brows knitting, as you navigated to the door with a soft scuffle of slippers on polished wood. 

Flinging it open, you halted, breath caught. "Aaron? Oh, hi, what are you doing here?"

The words sprang forth before you could catch them, your hands scrambling up to smooth the evidence of your couch-induced disarray. 

He fixes you a pointed stare as he steps into your apartment, invitation be damned you guess. "I find myself repeating this, yet it seems necessary--peephole first, then the door, sweetheart."

You clamp your teeth onto your lip with such force, you're convinced you've tasted blood. "Oh, right, sorry... I should've remembered."

A flicker of foolishness and a heavy dose of self-consciousness threaten to surface. However, you quickly subdue them, tucking them away as you wrapped your arms around your body, offering him a small smile. Despite everything, your heart leaps at the sight of him. You missed him.

His face softens, his touch soft as he tilts your chin upward. "Look at me. It's fine. I just want to make sure my best girl is safe, that's all."

The temptation to simply crumble there and then, to forget everything and cocoon yourself in his arms, was overwhelming. 

You leaned into his hand without thinking, which now claimed the entire area of your cheek. He was always so warm. 

You watch as Aaron glances around the room, no doubt noting the absence of work-related clutter. "Still working?"

"Oh, I was, I told my boss I'd help with inventory reports." That part wasn't totally a lie, but it still made your conscience squirm with guilt.

"Do you want help?"

The proposal touches a raw nerve, sparking a defensive reflex. Did he think you were incapable?

 "Thanks, but I'm actually all done with them," you lie, your a smile a little too rigid as you head into the living room.

You're keenly aware of his approaching footsteps as you hastily stash that stupid book under a magazine, silently praying he didn't notice. You settle onto the couch, and he joins you, casually drawing your legs over his lap as you recline against the cushions.

"How was your day?"

You wince internally at the automatic question. 

"Not too bad," He replies with an easy shrug, his fingers sneaking under your sweats at the ankles, tracing lazy circles on your calves. "We wrapped up some paperwork, had a couple of briefings, and oh, we were introduced to our new consultant today. She specializes in crypto linguistics--really fascinating stuff."

Your eyes flutter briefly, a constriction forming in your throat, a twist in your gut. The mere mention of the consultant being a she amplifies your feelings of insufficiency. It leaves you wondering, why would Aaron ever be interested in someone like you?

"Crypto linguistics?" you repeat, trying to sound curious rather than lost. 

He leans in closer to you. "It's a specialized area of linguistics focused on decoding encrypted languages."

You offer a nod, managing a convincing "Yeah, of course," even as your eyes unwittingly drift away from his unwavering stare, betraying a hint of your confusion.

Aaron's hand cradles your head, his fingers sifting through your hair. "Hey," he murmurs, drawing your attention back, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your chin touches your chest as you mumble, barely audible, "hardly anything."

Aaron's expression turns to a frown, his broad hands guiding your ass and thighs as he positions you atop his lap, face-to-face, leaving you exposed with no place to hide. Your name escapes him with a sigh. "I don't believe that for a second."

You match his frown with your own pout, nestling your face into his neck, concealing the rosy hue that has claimed your cheeks. "Just a rough week is all."

"Is that so?" His voice was a gentle murmur, his hands soothingly moving in gentle sweeps across your back as you breathed out unsteadily. "Funny, that's been my week too. My gorgeous girlfriend seems to have been avoiding me all week."

"Have not," you mumble, your breath warm against his skin, fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"It's silly."

He guided your face back to his, eyes searching yours. "Listen to me. No, it's not. I don't like when you try to diminish your feelings. Talk to me, honey."

That was your tipping point. A wobble in your lip betrays the onset of tears as your voice breaks.

"I just--I know I'm not as smart as the people you work with or even your past girlfriends. I know I don't get things right away especially when you talk about work, and I see how everyone else is so quick, and I'm here, always a few steps behind. I know that it must be frustrating for you, and I'm scared that one day, you'll get tired of explaining, and your patience will run out, and well, you'll see... you'll see that--"

"Baby, whoa, slow down," Aaron urges, his palms tenderly framing your face, a frown plastered over his face. Your heart hammers against your chest, its rapid beats almost audible, as if it might jump from your body. "Take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You draw in a breath.

His thumb delicately erases the tears that have made their way down your cheek.

"When there is something about my work you don't understand, I will gladly go over it as many times as you need. I don't expect you to know everything about that stuff, why would you? That's not why I'm with you. I'm with you because of your incredibly kind heart and the way you see the best in people. I love you because you are you. What is making you think this way, honey? It's breaking my heart."

"I overheard you Aaron," you said, "saying that sometimes it feels like you're talking to a wall when you talk to me."

"What?" he questioned, but his confusion was quickly morphed into concern. "Oh, sweetheart, no. I was talking about Strauss and her lack of understanding of our fieldwork."

"Oh."

"I would never speak about you like that, you know that, right? And if, in some alternate universe, I did, you need to break up with me, or better yet, set me straight." His hands stayed firmly on your face. "You should never tolerate that from me or anyone else, understood?"

You bit down on your lip, hands resting on his shoulders as you nodded. "Yes, sir."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, sending fireworks to every inch of you as he mumbled against your mouth, "that's my girl."

taglist: @hotchhner

[softmiso]

pearly dewdrops drop | spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer comes home from a case, finding comfort in reader.

tags: smut (18+/nsfw), fem!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected piv, nipple play, creampie, choking, crying

word count: ~700

a/n: regular text size and capitalization under the cut.

cross-posted on ao3

Spencer was usually good at compartmentalizing his work and personal lives. Usually.

It was some ungodly hour in the early morning when you heard the front door open. You made your way from your spot on the couch to go greet your boyfriend. Once in the entryway, you took in his appearance: hair disheveled, sleeves rolled up, and tie slightly askew.

It was his aura, however, that gave you pause. That quintessentially Spencer feeling was absent, and what was left felt like a void of sorts.

You approached him carefully. “Hi, baby.”

He gave a weak smile, pulling you into a hug. He held you tight, almost suffocatingly so. The two of you stayed anchored in place until he pulled back. Before you could get another word in, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss.

Immediately, his tongue made its way past your lips. A surprised sound escaped from your throat at his forwardness. Spencer typically took things slow—and rarely took the lead. Today, you knew that wouldn’t be the case.

You found yourselves in your shared bedroom, clothing having been shed somewhere along the way, leaving you both in your underwear.

You lay under him as he began to attack your neck with his affection. He left bruise after bruise, barely coming up for air. His lips then trailed down to your chest. He paused for a moment to remove your bra with deft fingers, only to plunge back in.

“Ah, Spence!” you gasped, as he took your nipple into his mouth.

He sucked and nibbled on the bud, fingers tweaking at the other, while you writhed underneath him. Despite the short timespan within which you had made your way from the entrance to your room, you could feel yourself getting worked up under his touch. And, despite his detached disposition, he was still able to read you faster than he could read any book. Releasing your breast from his mouth, he made quick work of removing his and your own underwear.

“Need you,” he mumbled. There was something to his voice, gruff and greedy, that told you his needs transcended words.

“Then take me.”

With that, he ran a finger through your folds, and swiftyly pressed it into your entrance. Even in his desperation, he made sure you were ready for him, pumping the digit in and out until he felt you could take him.

He held out his hand. “Spit.”

You complied, saliva dripping into his palm. He tugged at his cock a few times, before finally lining himself up with you. He pushed in carefully before bottoming out. You began to moan at the feeling of him filling you, but the sound caught in your throat as he set a brutal pace almost immediately.

He hammered into you, and the grip of his hand hands on your hips was sure to leave a bruise.

You could feel yourself getting close alarmingly fast. He wasn’t far behind, pace faltering every so often. He started blabbering, saying more than either of you had since he got home. Murmurs of feels so good, taking me so well, and all mine.

He could feel you fluttering around him, a sign of your impending climax, and his hand made its way around your throat. He pressed against the sides of your neck with just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. And, before you knew it, you were cumming harder than you ever had before.

In your haze, you felt him release his hold, head falling to your shoulder as he pumped you with rope after rope of his cum.

For a moment, you both lay there, still as statues.

That’s when you felt it. A wetness gathering on your collarbone.

“Spence…?” you cautioned.

You felt more tears falling, accompanied by barely-there whimpers escaping from his throat. You held him tight, hands rubbing gently up and down his back.

After a bit, he pulled back, and you wiped away a few stray tears from his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “I just need you to hold me some more.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 3) part 1, part 2

-

“Neglecting your husband already?” he asks when you pull away from the arm curling around your waist. It’d migrated there from your back during the walk away from the courthouse. 

“You know I’m not—I’m not some horse that you can just…break in,” you seethe, glaring up at Price. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest, putting the slightest boundary between you and him. It’s more of a mental boundary than anything, a self-soothing gesture; you know it hardly even registers to him because the man still looks down at you with that unimpressed expression, like dealing with a particularly vexing child. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, looking you up and down. It’s a scorching, hungry look and it makes you shift from foot to foot. 

The two of you stand outside the front door of his house, the front door still shut tight. You put up a fuss on the walk from town as the reality of your situation finally sunk in, squirming in his hold until he threatened to just load you over his shoulder and carry you off. His tone leaves little for you to doubt. Nothing about him brooks skepticism; until the end of time, you’ll look at John Price and think, this is a man of action. This is a man that will move heaven and earth. 

You clam up after that, lips pursed shut though turned down at the corners. 

It’s a bigger house than you might’ve expected for a single man, but perhaps it was built with a wife and children in mind. The thought makes you swallow. A wooden two-story thing with a porch out front and an adjacent stable for his two horses with a pen around back. Speckled Appaloosas that look up at the sound of his boots and keys, attentive for all of a few seconds before losing interest. 

You know without asking that Price must have built this house with his own two hands. It’s not shoddy by any means, but his house has that indefinable quality that some places have. Organic. Homegrown, almost. It’s hard to put up against the houses of your youth, but then again, you grew up in the cramped quarters of the city, apartments thick with the scent of sewage on bad days and dust on the good. The two are hardly comparable. It’s even harder to put up against the estates that you’ve spent the better part of the last few years cleaning and learning inside out, but at least his house doesn’t make your stomach turn at the sight. 

There’s a moment when you first turn to him where you wonder if he’ll look for approval in your face, some sign to set him at ease, but when you meet his gaze, it’s steady and impenetrable. Quietly self-assured. It’s incongruent with the machismo you were raised around, the constant need to impress or transcend. It puts you on edge. It makes you almost feel like baring your teeth.

Your comment had come from seeing the horses and the house and the porch with the two rocking chairs, your hackles raising every step closer. Price built his house big enough for children because he anticipated a baby in his future. Children he’d have with his wife, which, though a fuzzy memory as far as memories go, you quietly stepped into the role of not half an hour ago. 

You’ve thought about it before. Motherhood; marriage, domestic living, settling down with a man to start a family. The reality of your life has always made it seem like a problem for the future. Years chipping away like flakes of faded paint off the walls of your bedroom, still living with your aunt and uncle well into adulthood, trying desperately to scrimp and save and stay afloat. Disappointing but not surprising that you’d never been considered the marriable sort, not with scrubbing other people's toilets for a living. 

And now look at you, ring on your finger and whisked home to be bedded. A shiver roles down your spine at the thought and you scowl at Price instead of sinking into the strange thrill. 

When he wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you towards him (his fingers easily overlapping; another thrill), you snap.

“That is quite enough with all the touching!” 

His eyes narrow. “I’ll have more than my hands on you by the end of the night.”

A more proper woman would gasp. You barely hold yours back. 

You know in the back of your mind that you’ve already lost any semblance of an upper hand in this situation. It has long spiraled out of your control. His ring sits on your finger all nice and pretty, and though you signed your marriage license under a different name—your own rather than the name of his actual intended—that Price hadn’t even bothered confirming, you are, for all intents and purposes, his to touch as he pleases. 

“I’m—” your eyes dart around, the urge to bolt a sharp and sudden compulsion lodged in your chest, “—I know I said yes, but I—there’s always the possibility of an a-annulment if we don’t…if…”

You flinch, startled, when he pulls you into his chest only to cup your face again. He has big hands with callused fingers, rough against your skin. Up close, you can see the way his beard is cropped closer than his mustache and mutton chops. It gives him a grim air, almost somber until you catch his eyes staring down at you with an affection that feels unearned, meant for someone else. 

“Deep breaths, darling, there’s nothing to fret about just yet. You’ll work yourself into a state like this,” he murmurs, dropping his head to sip a kiss from your lips again. 

You’ve been in a state since the moment you walked into the sheriff’s office and laid eyes on this man. Turned around and knocked sideways, like you’ve walked into a storybook without noticing. If only it hadn’t all been so sudden, you might’ve been able to approach the situation with a clearer head. You might’ve been able to think up some other way out of it beyond giving Price a fake name and waiting anxiously for your true identity to be painstakingly drawn out over the course of a week. 

“Don’t know why you keep working yourself up,” Price says softly, then slots your lips together for another tender kiss. “Figured you might be a little skittish, but…’m gonna be such a good husband for you, honey. Not gonna want for nothing.”

His slow kisses drag out longer than back in the courthouse, languorous and decadent. As if he has all the time in the world now. In a way, he does, now that he’s helped collect your belongings from the inn and brought you home. When you think of pulling away, the hand wrapped around your wrist lets go and slides to your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Your breasts flatten against his chest, pulse skittering like mad when you feel the hardest of his chest against yours and the muscle holding you in place. 

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when the hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck and grips, holding you in place. The kiss deepens, the heat on your cheeks feeling palpably hot, vision swimming until your eyes have no choice but to flutter shut. Your suitcase sits forgotten somewhere in the dirt, toppled over onto its side. You pant low, hot breaths into his mouth when he breaks the kiss, letting his lips just hover over yours.

“There we go, darlin’,” Price mumbles against your mouth, sliding the hand on your low back down to grip the plump flesh of your ass through your dress, lips twitching when you make a broken, affronted sound. “Isn’ that better? Not thinkin’ so hard?”

You can’t think at all, in truth. When he kisses you again, your thoughts evaporate up into the clouds, the tongue licking into your mouth dispelling any ideas or notions you might’ve had. It disappears into the heat and lust and the fingers digging into your backside, groping at the flesh there without shame or compunction. You go with him when he clutches you closer, gasping again into his mouth when you feel something hard press against your low belly. He grunts when you twitch against it. 

“John—John—” you gasp, pulling your mouth away and whimpering when he chases after you, letting him steal another wet, slick kiss before your trembling hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. “Enough—it’s not—it’s not proper—”

“No prying eyes around here,” he grunts. “‘Sides, who’s going to tell a man he can’t kiss his own wife?”

Trembling all the harder at his words, you dig your nails into his shirt sleeves and hope you pinch the skin underneath. All twisted up inside. The ring on your finger glimmers when it catches the light, brighter even than the sun this close to your face. When Price feels your nails dig into his arms, he groans, fingers pressing harder into your bottom and making you squeak. All the pent up lust finally trickling out of him and into you. 

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside.” He finally lets you go after giving your bottom lip one last wet suck, pulling it into his mouth while his half-lidded eyes stare into yours. It’s somehow more intimate than kissing. 

You’re still reeling when he turns around to pick your suitcase off the ground, certain that your knees will give way and send you tumbling as well. Every point of contact on your body sizzles, aches. You watch from outside of yourself as he turns back to you, suitcase in his hand now, eyes still dark and fixed on you. Hungry. Your eyes widen when they flit down to find a thick bulge at the crotch of his pants. 

Like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head, you hiss and back up three steps when he takes a step towards you. “Oh no, you don’t take one step closer! I won’t have anything to do with—with that!”

You must look like some feral barn cat, back all puffed up, teeth bared to the man trying to coax you towards him. Price must see it too because he grins, amused. “Still spittin’ mad, huh? Felt those claws in me before, darlin’…gonna love feeling them with nothing between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Price doesn’t bother clearing anything up, but you intuit it the second he takes another step in your direction, whirling around and sprinting towards the house. It feels counterproductive to seek shelter in the man’s house, but dusty plains stretch out in every direction apart from back into town, where you know not a soul will lift a finger to help you. His house is the only shelter you’re going to get.

You hurry up the porch stairs, tearing open the door before glancing over your shoulder to find Price not far behind. He advances on you at a walking pace, but each stride of his long legs matches two of yours, making you shriek and scurry up the staircase. You dart for the first open door you see, slamming it shut behind you and leaning your whole weight against it. Glancing down, you perk up at the sight of a lock on the door before flipping it.

It’s not long before the sound of boots clomping up the staircase meets your ears, headed straight in your direction. You shake when you hear him pause right outside the door, then startle when he tries the knob. 

“You gonna let me in, darling?” Price asks, grin in his voice. Even raps his knuckle against the door for good measure.

“No,” you snap. 

“Not even for your things? Got your suitcase right here.” You hear him set it down, a little clunk against the wood floor. 

“I can manage like this. I’ve slept in my dress before.”

He pauses. “Have you?”

You tilt your chin up proudly despite the door blocking his view. “Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again. You can just stay on the other side of that door until you…until you put that thing away.”

“Can’t do much about that thing, darling; it’s sort of grown on me over the years anyway,” Price chuckles. “Well, not much I can do with it behind this door. I’ll go tend the horses ‘till suppertime comes ‘round and then come back to tend to you.”

“Licentious…reprobate,” you hiss through the door. 

He laughs, the sound deep in his throat. Your stomach flips. 

The stairs creak under the weight of his boots as he descends back downstairs. You wait until you hear the front door open and shut behind him, until the house is completely quiet save for the blood pumping in your ears before you hastily unlock the door and dart a hand out just to pull your suitcase in. You shut and lock the door as soon as it passes the threshold. 

It takes a while to settle your nerves and for the trembling to subside. In the meantime, you sit on your bottom at the foot of the door, with your back still pressed firmly to the wood, and take stock. There’s a bed in the room, one you hadn’t noticed in your mad scramble to lock yourself in. A bigger bed than the one you’d slept on back at the inn, but just as sparse, with gray flannel sheets and a blue quilt folded and draped over the end of the bed. 

The rest of the furniture in the room—two end tables, a chest of drawers, a desk, and two chairs situated in the corner of the room—appears so consistent in its design that you have to wonder if Price made them by hand as well. Hardly a reason to question it. You think to yourself that you’ll have to ask him how he finds the time only to quickly shake that thought away. Can’t be getting too chummy, certainly not if you don’t expect to be around in a month’s time. Hopefully less than that. 

You chew on your lip at the thought of fleeing in the night.

It trickles into your thoughts while you open your suitcase on the bed and riffle around for your nightwear. Price will likely keep you under lock and key for at least the first week of your marriage, giving you little opportunity to take off any time soon. If only you’d held your tongue and played the demure bride, he might’ve had some cause to trust you. Certainly not now, after your most recent display. 

Your own stupid fault, as usual. It’s not the first time your temper has gotten the better of you. You’ve faced worse consequences for it. 

Outside the window on the far end of the room, a horse whinnies. You pause, remembering that Price hadn’t gone very far. When you glance out curiously, you see him letting the horses into the pen, giving one a good rub down the bridge of its nose. The horses seem to melt under his touch. 

It’s strange watching him from far away. From a distance, it’s hard to reconcile him with the man that bent you over his desk not an hour ago and tanned your bottom. You cringe at the memory. It’s not that Price doesn’t seem like a man that would take his wife over his knee if he saw fit to do so, but you still can’t imagine yourself as that woman. When you think about it, it feels like a play, something you saw happen to someone else. Not you wailing and squirming like a cat in heat. 

As if feeling your stare, he glances up at the window and winks when he catches your eye. With a squeak, you leap away from the window, scurrying back over to the bed. 

A couple hours pass in restless contemplation, practically biting your nails to the quick. Eyeing the windowsill like you still might go over there just to check on what Price is up to outside. You hear him come back into the house once or twice, tensing up at the sound of his boots, only to be left vaguely disappointed when you hear him leave and the screen door slam shut behind him. 

You spend so long holed up in the bedroom that you miss lunch entirely. Below you, you hear Price puttering around downstairs in the kitchen—the sound of a knife chopping vegetables and then the sizzle of meat on a pan. The hunger pangs nearly make you break, but you’ve gone without food before. 

Your heart skips a beat when you hear him ascend the staircase again and place something just outside of your door. He doesn’t try coaxing you out this time, just heads back down the stairs and out the front door. Again, you ignore the pang of disappointment; ignore the urge to open the door and holler down the stairs for him to stay gone. 

He leaves anyway. 

Curiosity needles at you though, so you open the door up a crack when you’re sure you’re alone. There’s a plate at the foot of the door with vegetables and meat, slightly cooled but still fresh, the plate still warm. He must’ve known you wouldn’t try coming downstairs and fixed you up a plate. 

You eat in silence at the desk, bad mood ripening. Angry at yourself and everyone else. Even John. Especially John. The audacity of fixing you up a plate, of thinking of you in the first place. Irritated enough to stand boldly by the window this time, hand clutched in the curtain, tracking the movement of his shoulders and hips when he moves with the horses and fetches water from the well. You lose sight of him a couple times as he finishes up the day’s chores around the house, but the flutter in your belly always settles when he comes back into view. 

It’s easy to let yourself admire him from afar, somehow less humiliating without his eyes on you. He’s a solid man, body carved into its shape from the rough labor that’s part and parcel of living out on the frontier. A wide back tapering down to lean, narrow hips and thick, muscled thighs hewn from lifting and pulling and all manner of physical work. You bite your lip when you remember what it felt like to cling to that back and dig your nails into his arms. 

You give your head a shake. It’s dangerous to let a thought like that latch on. 

In the few hours between lunch and sunset, you occupy yourself by reading one of the books stowed away in your suitcase. Then get bored and refold your clothes. The horses bray when they’re taken into the stables for the evening. The crickets out in the bushes in the yard chirp as the sun sets pink in the far distance. It’s quieter out here in the plains than back in the city, you think, something you haven’t yet had the time to appreciate. 

When Price comes in for the night, you’re firm in your resolve to keep the door shut. If lunch at the door was just an attempt to butter you up, he has another thing coming. In a house this big, there’s likely a guest room or somewhere else to sleep—a sofa or a sleeping bag tucked away under the stairs. He’ll just have to make do while you take the bedroom. There’ll be no sharing a bed with the man that grabbed your backside like a piece of meat. 

He doesn’t come up the stairs right away. Like before, you hear him rustle up supper, spatula scraping against a pan and knife coming down on a chopping block again and again. Not enough time has passed since lunch for you to feel more than peckish. You’re thankful for that when you hear him sit down to eat. 

The knock at the door startles you. You hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “Ready to talk now?”

You stare balefully at the door. “No.”

“We have to figure this out sometime, darling.”

“No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright earlier, but, honey, that’s how husbands kiss their wives. Nothing improper about it.”

“I’m not frightened, I’m just not—we don’t need to do any of that,” you huff, embarrassed all over again. “You’ve hardly given me any time to even think. I didn’t know you from Adam this morning and now we’re married.”

Price sighs, the sound muffled through the door. “What am I going to do with you, honey?” It’s said to himself, a fond exasperation that puts you on edge all over again. He has no right to be amused with you, no right to be delighted and charmed by your ire. 

“Well, you can sleep somewhere else for the time being. I’d prefer the bed to myself.”

He lets out a low, dark laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m sleeping anywhere but with my wife from this point on. You oughta come to terms with that quick.”

“Well then, you can sleep out there because I’m not unlocking the door!”

He lets out a mean sound, almost mocking. “Yeah, ‘bout time I addressed that, huh?”

His words make you frown until you hear a floorboard creak as Price does something on the other side of the door. Then the doorknob jiggles. Horrified, you watch as the door unlocks and the knob turns, your husband’s body filling out the door frame. You’d forgotten how well he could fill one out. He almost has to duck to come inside, mused hair from working outside all day brushing against the top of the frame. 

“Always put a key on the top of the door, just in case,” he explains, pinching the little silver key between his thumb and forefinger before shutting the door. Your heart jumps when he locks it behind him. “Ready to talk now, honey?”

[allamericanfinalgirl]

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖻

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 (2𝙆) (𝙏𝙒; 𝙎𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙎𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣)

‼️18+ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈‼️

-

The story of how the priest fell in love was a single thread that, for better or for worse, tied Eve to her fate.

The Singh family had immigrated from Kolkata to Omaha in search of America’s land of opportunity.

As Eve joined her family in their pew, a handsome young man with brunette hair took to the pulpit; a heavy black cassock hung from his broad shoulders, a crucifix laid over his chest. “Good morning.”

It was a different sight than usual this Sunday morning.

Father Mayhew gave the masses on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation but was priming his son to take his place on the altar and be the humble shepherd to the sheep of the town.

Charlie Mayhew.

The town’s golden boy, opening doors for the elderly, volunteering at the transient shelter, and babysitting the children of the parishioners.

The perfect picture of what a priest’s son should be.

Charlie didn’t hold any prejudice toward his congregation’s newest additions; he and his father welcomed them with open arms and introduced them to the community as if they were already one of their own.

Even when the townspeople were hesitant or unwilling to accept their newest residents.

“Miss Singh.”

Eve turned at the sound of her last name, looking over her shoulder with wide brown eyes as Father Mayhew’s son approached her with an easygoing grin, smiling and greeting other parishioners as he made his way to her.

“Good Morning,” Eve’s accent was heavy, and her English was still being learned.

The townspeople gave her family odd looks when they did not take the time to understand Eve’s family and friends properly. “The sermon you gave was lovely.”

“Thank you.” Ever humble, Charlie bowed his head meekly. “I have to admit, it’s distracting up there when you’re beneath me.”

Eve blinked in surprise, and Charlie quickly reassured her with a charming grin. “I couldn’t help noticing you’re...missing something.”

“What am I missing?” Eve looked down at herself, holding her missal and rosary in her hands.

Charlie only laughed softly and shook his head dismissively.

“Come back at golden hour. Seven P.M.”

Charlie gestured to the interior of the church. “The light comes through the stained glass just right, and this place becomes...” His dark eyes lingered on Eve for a moment too long, and both young adults could somehow see their lives playing out before them. “Transcendent.”

-

The gold light reminded Eve of her tree swing in the woods of her childhood home as she entered the chapel at seven p.m. on the dot. “Hello?” Her voice echoed in the chapel as she searched for Charlie, who made his presence known from the choir loft behind her.

“Oh!” Eve felt small with Charlie looking down on her from on high; she had felt that way since her family had arrived in Omaha with only the clothes on their backs and their hearts in their hands. “I’m sorry, I did not know you were there.”

Charlie only grinned as if he knew something she didn’t. “Come up here; it’s a better view.”

Eve joined Charlie in the choir loft, and he was right.

The view from up above was better.

“I hope this isn’t too forward.” Eve followed Charlie to the sacristy, gasping in surprise when he began to unbutton his black dress shirt and remove his belt. “I’m going to clean up before I give you what you came for.”

“Wait here.” The gentle demand in Charlie’s voice stirred something inside Eve; she just wasn’t sure what that alien feeling was yet.

Eve turned her head away to stare at the crosses hanging from the wall as Charlie stripped in front of her to his underwear as if he were putting on a show.

Dark eyes stole glances at the size of Charlie straining through the nearly see-through delicate material. “Okay.” She exhaled shakily when Charlie’s half-naked figure disappeared into the bathroom.

The sound of shower water hitting the floor and steam filled the tiny room. It got humid quickly. Eve undid the first few buttons of her dress, sighing and fanning herself as she waited for Charlie to finish.

‘If you’re listening, God. Don’t let Mummy and Daddy catch me.’ Eve silently prayed to the various crosses and religious imagery decorating the church back room.

An unmarried woman still at home with her parents, alone in the handsome, young priest’s chambers?

Eve second-guessed the consequences of this visit as she redid the buttons of her dress, shooting to her feet when Charlie exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam.

Droplets of water dripped down Charlie’s bare and glistening chest; his brunette hair was shiny copper in the low light of the room. “Is something wrong, Eve?” He looked down at himself, laughing as if he now realized he was naked.

Save the white towel hanging from his hips.

Eve followed the trail of hair on Charlie’s abdomen that disappeared underneath the towel. “I... do not want to get us in trouble.” She nervously twisted a lock of hair around her index finger, turning it purple. “What would people say?”

Charlie’s expression changed to one of mock hurt. ‘Me?’ He mouthed, putting a hand over his heart. “Miss Singh. I’m wounded.” He boldly walked up to Eve, caging her against the dresser she backed up against and retrieving a velvety, black box that sat inside.

“I cannot accept-” Charlie gently shushed Eve when she began protesting, putting his smooth, cool hands over Eve’s to guide her fingers to open the box.

Gasping softly, Eve was in silent awe as she lifted a golden crucifix, hanging from a delicate gold chain that dangled from Eve’s long, brown fingers. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered, her dark brows knit together in confusion. “What is it?”

“This shows who you belong to.” Charlie watched the gold light reflect on Eve’s features as she admired the necklace.

Eve allowed Charlie to take the necklace from her fingers, his words running through her head. ‘Who I belong to?’ She wondered. ‘Who do I belong to?’

“Turn around.”

Eve obeyed as if Charlie’s commands were almost second nature, closing her eyes when Charlie gathered her long, black locks in his hands and combed his fingers through it once, twice, before pulling her hair back to fall between her shoulder blades.

The necklace chain was cold as it graced Eve’s throat, shuddering when she felt Charlie ever-so-slightly run his index finger along her collarbone. “Blessed be you.”

Eve nodded and bid Charlie goodbye, confused of the events that had transpired as she walked home.

The tutoring lessons Eve began with Charlie to learn English, and church study became frequent. Charlie would stop short of giving Eve her release, cleaning, redressing, and sending Eve home before someone grew suspicious of the young adults’ mutual absence.

-

“I am hiding from something I cannot stop.”

Eve stood in the church sacristy with Charlie, her dress bunched in her fists from how tight she clenched her hands at her sides. “It feels like a fever in me.”

The dreams of Charlie’s body on Eve’s, learning to touch herself the way Charlie had instructed her, secret glances and touches in the chapel—it was all becoming too much for Eve to bear.

“Please,” Eve begged, getting on her knees and clasping her hands, looking up at Charlie with desperate brown eyes. “Help me.”

“Oh, Lamb…” Charlie sighed long and low. He guided Eve onto all fours on his mattress, pushing her dark hair off her shoulders and pressing his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply until Eve filled his senses. “You'd do well to say yes to me.”

Feeling Charlie’s cold, smooth hands slide up her waist, undoing every button before sliding the dress up over her head. “Do as I say.” His tone was low and dark; it reverberated through Eve’s body as he dragged his mouth down her spine.

Neatly folding Eve’s dress, Charlie placed it on the bedside table.

“I’m on fire,” Eve exhaled shakily, bunching the fabric of the comforter in her hands when she clenched them into fists underneath her, feeling Charlie’s heavy, dark presence behind her.

“I’m on fire, I’m on fire, I’m on fire...” Eve chanted like a prayer as Charlie teased her with featherlight touches that transformed into a hungry seizing of Eve’s flesh, digging his strong fingers into her soft, brown skin and marking her as his for the taking.

“You poor thing...” Charlie rolled his neck, muscles flexing as he pulled the towel from around his waist, freeing his erection as he approached the end of the bed. “Sweet, mourning lamb.”

Eve closed her eyes when Charlie ran his index finger down her spine, gripping her hip in his hand as he teased the throbbing head of his erection against her soft cunt. “There's nothing you can do.” His jawline flexed, muscles straining, and his face flushed as he bent over Eve’s trembling frame. “It's already been done.”

‘What fear a woman like you brings upon a man like me.’ Charlie thought darkly as he wrapped Eve’s ebony locks around his fingers and closed his hand into a fist. “Show me your face.” He demanded, giving Eve’s hair a sharp tug to force her back to arch, making her look up at him with desperate brown eyes.

“Heard you,” Charlie was a man possessed, massaging Eve’s breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples until they hardened under the pads of his fingers.

Eve turned her face into the pillow and screamed when Charlie stretched and rubbed her most intimate part, “Saw you.” His dark eyes never strayed from Eve as she writhed like a snake underneath the weight of him.

“Felt you,” Each prayer was punctuated by a thrust from the priest; his headboard scratched the sacristy wall. “Gave you.” Charlie dropped his head to his chest when Eve clenched around him, grunting in time with their movements.

“Need you,” Eve continued the prayer when Charlie went non-verbal, his dark eyes blown out as he frantically began to fuck her into the mattress. “Love you.” She felt Charlie’s hands slide underneath her legs and pushed her knees to her chest.

Glancing at his reflection in his dresser mirror, Charlie grinned at his flushed and sweaty face, his chest and neck marked with love bites and scratches from Eve.

Flexing a toned arm, Charlie admired how Eve’s long legs shook atop his broad shoulders, bending over to give Eve a sweet kiss on her sweaty lips.

“Charlie-!” Tears streamed down Eve’s face; it hurt how big Charlie was inside her, stretching her open and thrusting relentlessly.

“Am I hurting you, Lamb?” Bending over Eve, Charlie took the gold chain of her crucifix necklace between his teeth; he was slower now but still grunting loudly with every thrust.

“Here…” Charlie’s hand traveled down Eve’s heaving chest to her abdomen, swollen with the fill of him. Finding the hard nub at the top of her cunt, Charlie began to massage Eve’s clit.

Eve’s lips began to tremble, more and more tears streaming down her sweet face as she felt herself clamp down on Charlie.

Eyes wide and lips parted in a silent scream, Eve stiffened, her palms flat against Charlie’s biceps as he finished alongside her.

Charlie pulled out and frantically pumped his arm, locking desperate eyes with Eve as he moaned long and low. A white, warm, and sticky fluid coated Eve’s tummy when Charlie came with stuttering breath and blown-out eyes.

Panting softly on her side, Eve felt Charlie retreat from the bed, listening to the sound of a drawer opening and closing and water being poured.

Kneeling bedside, Charlie placed a wooden handle with multiple ropes hanging from it on the bed, splaying the ropes out wide as he gripped the base of the handle and braced himself.

The sound of wind whistling through the air and the crack of rope on skin made Eve sit straight up, drawing her knees to her chest and covering her face with her arms in horror as she watched bloody stripes bloom onto Charlie’s back.

A single tear slipped down Charlie’s flushed face as he began to line up the blood-stained rope once more.

“Stop-!” Eve threw herself over Charlie, crying out when the rope scarred her wrist. “Why-?” She felt hot tears begin to slip down her cheeks, dripping into Charlie’s wounds. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“It’s repenting for our sin.” Charlie moved robotically, trying to line up the rope once more, but Eve stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “I have to do it.” He insisted as Eve took his face in her hands, burying her nose in his brunette locks.

“Please,” Eve hugged Charlie’s neck, kissing his temple and gently rubbing his bruised and bloody back. “If someone has to be punished,” She sniffled and pushed her black curtain of hair out of her eyes, her face slick with tears. “This is my fault. I…..tempted you.”

Charlie looked at Eve with tear-filled eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment, making him look boyish and innocent. “I came to you today.” Eve insisted, taking Charlie’s hands and kissing his wrists and fingers. “Punish me.” She begged, clinging to him in desperation.

Slowly nodding, Charlie guided Eve to kneel beside him, exposing her naked back. “Oh, Lamb…” He sighed, gently dragging the ropes down Eve’s spine. “Sweet, mourning, lamb.”

Eve screamed and buried her face in her arms when she felt the sting of the rope against her flesh.

Charlie was quick to envelop Eve in his arms, shushing and comforting her before someone outside was alerted to the illicit goings on in the sacristy.

“Do you think you can take two more?” Charlie opened his bedside drawer and retrieved a salve for Eve’s aftercare. “Three will be enough to please the Holy Trinity.”

Drained of tears, Eve nodded and assumed her previous position, feeling Charlie rubbing the front of his clothed erection into her back as he raised the handle once more.

Two.

Three.

Eve combed her fingers through Charlie’s hair as he cleaned her with a warm washcloth. “Let me.” Charlie took Eve’s delicates when her hands trembled; he slid to his knees and wrapped a hand around Eve’s ankle, lifting it to slide her underwear up her still shaking legs. “It’ll be better if I do these things for you from now on.”

Redoing the buttons of her dress and putting Eve’s black hair over her shoulders, Charlie hooked a finger underneath the gold chain of her necklace, tugging the crucifix upright and forcing Eve to strain her neck to look up at him. “Who do you belong to?” He asked in an even and measured tone.

“You. I belong to you.” Eve sighed in reply, the priest gently laid the necklace across her collarbone, guiding her on his arm out of the sacristy and into the chapel, standing at the church doors as Charlie bid Eve goodbye.

“After Sunday Mass. I want you waiting on all fours in my bed.” Charlie sweetly kissed Eve’s swollen lips goodbye, but she could see in his eyes it was a demand, not a request, from her priest.

“Yes, Father.”

[moon7jay]

OKAY (p.sh)

Warnings : smut, rough sex, degradation, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Dedicated to •┈┈⛧ @hoondrop

Sunghoon didn't think of it much when you let him into your apartment without a single word when usually you'd be huffing and puffing because he showed up unannounced. He didn't think much of it when you slipped off your dress silently and laid on the bed, spread open, waiting for him to use you however he wanted.

He attributed it to you being really needy. Sunghoon was too lost in his own lust to notice how you cried out his name when he slipped himself home inside of your wet heat in one painful thrust. Your nails dug into his back and your hazy eyes fell on his expressions of bliss, hot pants falling from his mouth, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on your heaving chest. He wasn't even looking at your face and an acute pain started to bloom inside your chest.

"Fuck-oh god-never been inside a pussy so fucking good ,you were just made to be fucked" He grunted, pelting his hips harshly into you. His touches were rough, palms groping around your body in a desperate abandon, leaving bruises in their wake. Usually you loved it, your body welcomed the familiar sting and the pleasure that came along with it, but the bruises from your inside were looming on the surface today, making you feel like an open, gaping wound.

He buried his face inside the crook of your neck, folding your body in half, his thrusts merciless as always. "fucking slut, can't stop coming back to this tight little cunt, you should get paid for it" he panted in your ear. His words were hitting you as hard as his thrusts were, the hollowness in your chest intensifying by the second. Soft sobs started leaving your lips before you could stop them.

"Yeah ? Does it hurt?" He asked coming up to rest his forehead against yours, looking you dead in the eye for the first time since he came over. His eyes were dark in lust, hot breaths of exertion falling on your lips while his hips kept pounding you into the sheets. You nodded, your vision becoming blurry as you were unable to control the onslaught of tears that was wracking your body. "You can take it, just keep letting me use this hot little body till I'm fucking satisfied" His movements became rapid, you could tell that he was close. Your walls were breaking down with each snap of his hips, pain beginning to constrict your throat. Your breaths were becoming shorter, sobs becoming ugly, the physical pain transcending into emotional one.

You hated it, hated feeling so vulnerable and raw, especially in front of someone who didn't give two fucks about you. Maybe it was the stupid feelings you had started harbouring for the boy above you that were begging him to notice your suffering. To see you, look beyond the relief that your body had to offer and peek behind the mask which was your face. To hold your aching body till it didn't feel like something was clawing it's way out of your chest, till you could voice out your grief and give this empty feeling a name.

Sunghoon's mind was beginning to get clouded over by the feelings of ecstasy, his hips stuttering, feeling his high approaching closer. Even though his body was responding to the pleasure you were giving him, something about the way you were looking at him was filling him with unease. He had never seen you crying so much during sex and something inside him was telling him that this was something else. Those weren't the sobs of pleasure that were racking your tiny form underneath him, your wails sounded like cries of actual pain and he wasn't sure what to do. His high faded into the void the more that he focused on your quivering lips and flooded eyes, his hips coming to a halt inside of you. When you didn't stop wailing despite the lack of his assault on your lower body, sunghoon's chest constricted in panic. Did he hurt you? what the fuck was going on?

You were jolted out of your agony by the feeling of two big palms cupping your face.

"Y/n? Hey, hey, calm down" Sunghoon's panic filled voice penetrated through the viel of tears covering your eyes. It took you a while to notice how he wasn't inside of you anymore, the aching between your legs was lost somewhere between your grief stricken cries. You pushed him away and curled into yourself, wrapping your hands around your middle to find some sort of comfort. Rocking your body back and forth to calm your stuttering breaths. This was all you had. For as long as you can remember, this tiny stroke of comfort was all you had to ground yourself to reality. The fact that someone else was witnessing your breakdown was making you feel defenseless. "G-Go please" you sobbed and closed your eyes to drown out your surroundings.

Sunghoon's brain was going into overdrive. Seeing you like this was something he had not thought about even in his worst nightmares and he felt helpless. He didn't want to leave but at the same time he didn't want to push your limits either, so he gathered his clothes and dressed himself as fast as he could. There was an intense urge to hold you that was blooming in his chest, but who was he kidding? He couldn't comfort people for shit. Sunghoon didn't do emotions, he didn't do feelings and he sure as fuck didn't care about anyone, so why were you making him feel this way?

As he took one last look at your naked body curled into a fetus position, your cries tearing through his heart, sunghoon did what he did best. He left.

As you stared at the empty screen of your phone with no calls or messages from sunghoon, you could hear the distinct sound of your heart breaking. One would think you would have gotten used to that sound by now. How pathetic.

Did you not know how it was gonna end from the beginning? or when you decided to be vulnerable and scare him away ? Did you really think you meant something to him? That you meant more to him than just a warm body to fuck? How many heart breaks would it take for you to realize that you were just convenient? Convenient and replaceable and so so naive. You wouldn't call yourself naive tho, you were just desperate. Choosing to ignore reality to live in momentary illusions of happiness. You guess this is what becomes of people who come out of broken homes, searching for little specks of love where it doesn't exist, deluding yourself till the glaring reality decides to shove you back to where you came from. Somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with the fact that you couldn't make people love you. You had always lacked that ability, to make someone want you, to make someone stay.

You picked on the scab of wound on your knuckle mindlessly, chuckling to yourself as tears started streaming down your face again. You out of all people should have known better. You had so much love inside of you and no one to give it to. And what was excess love if not grief? Where do you put this agony? How do you get rid of this aching need to be enough for someone else?

He must be with some other girl right now, some girl who didn't ruin his pleasure with random breakdowns and ugly sobs. Someone who wasn't so difficult and unlovable and excruciatingly clingy. you kept scratching till the healed skin was peeling off, making way for warm blood to ooze out. A sigh fell from your quivering lips at the familiar sting, wondering if he stayed when other girls asked him to.

Sunghoon downed his 6th shot of the night and yet, he was wide awake and functioning. He'd been sitting in this godforsaken bar for days but no amount of alcohol could take you out of his head. You were like a constant itch at the back of his mind. What fucked him up the most was the fact that he missed you. Utterly and desperately. And not just your body, he missed YOU. He missed your giggles and he missed your flustered smiles. He missed the way you sassed him when he teased you. He missed watching his big palms engulf your small ones.

The past few days had been enough to bring him to the glaring realization that he needed you. He cared about you. Your wails were still ringing in his ears and your broken voice when you told him to leave was haunting him at nights. His dark circles could attest to that. His hands shook with the desperate need to call you and hear your voice but he was a coward. He left you in your worst moment and the guilt and shame was eating him from the inside. What would he even say to you? You probably hated him now.

His mind drifted off to the conversation you had with him a few weeks ago. He'd been getting ready to leave when your soft, hesitant voice had spoken the words which changed the trajectory of his life. "c-can you stay?" you'd asked and sunghoon had looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. Your tiny figure had been wrapped in your white sheets while you peered up at him nervously, your fingers fiddling with the stray thread on the duvet. "can you stop being fucking clingy?" He'd replied, regretting his words as soon as he'd seen you visibly flinch. Then truth was that he'd been afraid. He was scared then and he was scared now. Scared of how badly he'd wanted to stay.

He downed another shot and hoped it would be enough to give him the liquid courage for what he was about to do.

You didn't know what to expect when your doorbell rang in the middle of the night. You were lounging on your couch in the living room, staring blankly at the romcom playing on your television. Your first thought was to ignore it, the emotional distress of the past few days had taken so much away from you physically that you had little to no strength left in your body.

But whoever was behind that door was persistent. Ringing and ringing till you couldn't help but heave yourself up from the couch in frustration.

You yanked the door open and froze. It took a few seconds for you to process the fact that he was standing in front of you and another few seconds to stop yourself from running into his arms. You swallowed harshly and stepped aside to let him in. His eyes were fixated on you and you were looking anywhere but at him. Not quite ready to face your demons just yet. You weren't surprised to see him at your door to be honest, he couldn't stay without sex for too long.

At least you are useful for something, you thought. You were in the middle of slipping off your top's strap down your shoulder when his voice interrupted you. "What are you doing?" He asked, making you look up at him, staring at him blankly. "Getting undressed" you replied in a solemn monotone like it was the most obvious thing in the world but he shook his head, his gaze intense "why? "

"Isn't that what you're here for?"

Your genuinely confused question hit sunghoon like a slap across the face. He knew that he had been treating you like shit but why were you treating yourself like this? It made him want to puke. He shook his head again and willed his heart to calm down "I'm not here to have sex with you"

His words sounded like static to you. Oh. He was here to break things off with you, because of course he was. Did you really think he was going to come back to you for sex after what you had done when he could have any girl he wanted for the night? You really were delusional. You bit your lower lip to stop it from wobbling when you felt tears gathering at your waterline. So this was it then? You really had driven another person you loved away from you successfully.

"I-im sorry, j-just don't hate me please" you spoke through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly to avoid crying in front of him again. If he couldn't love you, you wanted to make sure he didn't leave hating you. You honestly wouldn't be able to live with yourself if he did.

Sunghoon watched your cowering form inching away from him and he was overcome with an intense urge to wrap you in his arms and keep you close. You looked so scared and small standing there, asking him to not hate you. Silly little girl, he thought. How could he ever hate you?

He rubbed a shaky hand over his face to choose his next words carefully but you interpreted his actions the wrong way. Your throat constricted and you fisted the hem of your top tightly. The feeling of desperation was beginning to overpower your rational thoughts, what were you going to do if he left? Your feet moved before you could stop yourself and your shaky fingers were tugging on his shirt softly. When his dark eyes met yours, you couldn't stop the tears from pouring down your cheeks. "G-give me one chance, I won't ruin it this time" you hiccuped through your sobs. "Y/n- " please sunghoon i-i'll be so good and s- so quiet, just u-use m-your words were cut of by a sobbed gasp escaping your lips when sunghoon pinned you against the wall behind you forcefully, his body pressed firmly against yours. You stared up at him with wide teary eyes and he looked angry, the vein on his forehead throbbing visibly. "Stop that" He spoke sternly through gritted teeth and cupped your face in his palms, resting his forehead against yours. "Stop treating yourself like a fucking object y/n, this isn't you" His lips captured yours before you could react and the softness of the kiss caught you off gaurd. You didn't remember the last time you had been kissed with so much tenderness and you couldn't help but sob into his mouth, your hands fisting his shirt desperately. Sunghoon didn't stop kissing you. More like, he couldn't stop kissing you. Hoping that he could convey with his kiss, all the words that he couldn't say. His hold on your face was soft and you couldn't help but press yourself closer to his body, seeking warmth, looking for comfort. He pulled away briefly, his forehead still pressed against yours and he stared right into your soul. His thumbs reached up to wipe your tears and you hiccuped through your sniffles. "would you believe me if I said that I'm here to stay baby?" He asked softly. The sweet nickname was something he'd only called you in throes of passion sometimes, so the fact that he was consciously speaking to you with so much affection made your heart hurt. Hope fluttered like butterflies in your stomach and you searched his face. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get lost in his affection even if he was lying, so exhausted from your emotional turmoil. Your eyes flooded with tears and you sobbed a pathetic "no" while you shook your head. Sunghoon closed his eyes and rubbed his nose against yours, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "will you give me a chance to prove it to you?" He asked, his hot breath warming up your mouth. You bit your lower lip and buried your face into his chest, unable to stop yourself from crying your heart out. This felt like a fever dream and you wanted to stay in it a little longer. You wanted to feel his arms around you, holding you closer in a way only you had ever done to yourself. He wrapped your body in his embrace and sighed in relief, he couldn't comprehend how he'd gone so long without the feeling of you in his arms. "please baby, you're like air to me and i know that i have hurt you and i won't ask you to forgive me but these past few days have been hell and i don't think I can survive something like that again" He whispered his truth and it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his chest.

He hated that he was always so afraid of his own feelings, hated that you were turning him into this emotional person that he was not. His words made you tighten your hold around his shoulders and you peeked up slightly to stare into his eyes. His eyes that were staring at you with so much adoration that you couldn't help the blush spreading across your cheeks.

He pecked your nose "let me inside your heart baby, I want to know what hurts you and makes you bleed, I want to swallow your pain if it's the last thing I do"

Your breathing had evened out from hearing him speak and you were suddenly coming to the realisation that he was asking you to give him a chance at loving you. Sunghoon wanted to love you. Your heart was beating rapidly across your chest at the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated and yet at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but question. Were you ready to let him in like that? would you be able to take it if he left you stranded again? You didn't know. But what you did know was that you were tired of running away.

"Okay" you whispered and his lips were immediately on yours, kissing you like his life depended on it, in a way it did. "Okay" He whispered back into your mouth and swallowed your whines, pressing you closer to himself, tasting you like he'd never given himself the liberty to.

There were so many things you wanted to ask him and so many feelings he wanted to express. But for now, okay was enough.

[the-travelling-snitch]

see i grew up thinking everyone had carnival seasons jshsh and yes the season always kicks off on 11/11 at 11:11am but not just in cologne but everywhere where it’s celebrated (though cologne is definitely one of the biggest cities my condolences to everyone who has to be at cologne main station for non-carnival related reasons)

logically it should remind me of playful land more since it’s colourful and everyone is also dressed up (+ there’s a region where they still use traditional woodmasks for carnival) but my mind immediately pivoted to glomas, either bc i’m just very biased or bc the origins of carnival have a lot to do with warding off evil spirits and there’s a tradition where straw dolls are being burned at the end of the season (i.e. bell of salvation and fire flowers?)

pocky day 🤝 the beginning of carnival season

11th november

not sure what the universe is trying to tell us with that information but i know it’s how i remember the date for pocky day jshsh (i guess you could argue that both have ties to sweets ^^)

it also makes me think of glomas again, but a lot of things do that jshshsh

OOH i haven’t heard of carnival season and that sounds so fun??? i legit had to look it up and correct me if im wrong but it’s something about the cologne carnival in germany???

it happens on 11/11 at 11:11am…. waoh

and as much as i love glomas too, it reminded me of playful land instead because technically that’s still ongoing in twst 😭😭😭

WHICH REMINDS ME— i need to get to designing playful land outfits omg

[multiverse-sparkles]

old money, old soul

༄ you loved him in a different lifetime; and your soul yearns for him.

༄ modern aegon ii targaryen x reader

was it possible there was a lifetime where you'd loved so dearly; felt the tender brush of his hands on your skin as he touches upon you, basked in his reverent gaze, brimming with so much awe and wonder that you could almost taste it on your lips?

it wasn't the first time you'd woke with a start— clutching a hand to your chest as short, gasps of breath leaves you, a feeling of emptiness and hurt overwhelming all sense of reason as you mourn for the silver haired man in your dreams.

he was so beautiful yet so melancholy. a boy, barely a man in your earliest dreams, yet his eyes were devastating in it's sadness. oh, but he was all the same yours. you held him in your arms as he wept in his grievance of being unloved, of the circumstances which he was born into.. he would tell you his fears, and you would soothe him with the gentlest hand he's had all his life. you would tell him you love him dearly, and he would know you meant every word because you had the same heart.

you were his reprieve. his world kept in soltitude, free from the intrigues of the court and his family that were bent in taking everything good in his life. no crown, or titles, or coin could ever compare to you. you held his world in your tiny hands, and his entire being; every good that were left in him was in you.

in your little home, he was no prince. he talked of his interests with the outmost heart. he laughed freely, with his head thrown back, with a genuine and free spirit, without all the burdens of his mother's expectations and without the fear of being hunted down and chased for his claim. in your home, he was not unloved. he was adored, and praised. he was comforted and held like he deserved.

he loved you. passionately. with his whole heart. he uttered promises of his devotion to your skin, building you up in the most sinful way possible, until you were melting in his arms... he adored you so. aegon adored you so.

that ache in your chest festers like a untreated wound; oh aegon. your sweet love, who would beg for you to never leave him. to never part with him, mouth full of your name in his breathy, pleading gasps. only in this dream, his eyes were filled with nothing but tears, his devastation plain as a day as he held you in his shaking arms, crying out your promises to one another. refusing to believe you'd part from him.

as everything good in his life, they'd found you. those who wish to harm him were countless, but he cared little about anything to warrant a reaction so visceral, he declared himself king to avenge you.

the maiden in the forest.

he was unwilling. so unwilling that he refused to believe you'd never come back to him. so unwilling that he heaves, struggles to breath as he pressed his cheek into your pale face, undeterred by all the blood, "promise me we will never part." his voice was low, different from the many times before but altogether, the same. "tell me we would never part, my love. tell me." he begs.

"we would never part." you vow, cupping his cheek, your touch was fleeting, "i shall find you in every life time." you whisper, fingers curling around his silver strands with meager strength.

"i will have only you..."

you peel back the covers, padding your way into the bathroom. in your reflection, it was evident that you had woke crying, your eyes were swollen and red from the dreams. or were they memories? could you even differentiate from memories and your real life anymore? were you so... lonely that you'd taken into dreaming for a man who's devotion to you transcends lifetimes?

you were unsure. but you'd wandered into the kitchen, many times that month, staring blankly at nothing in particular, hoping the yearning leaves.

"are you sure you're okay?" the soft, worried voice came from behind you, and you looked back to see your dear friend in the dim light of the kitchen, looking incredibly worried. "are the dreams still bothering you?" helaena places a hand on your shoulder.

you shrug your shoulders, "they don't bother me, ena."

"yet you sit at our kitchen, depressed beyond reason everytime." she respond, playfully. "we need a new routine." helaena tuts.

"you're not about to drag me into your lavish summer home." you warn, glimpsing the mischievous light in her eyes. she'd often clamored for you to join her and her family's summers in a sunny villa somewhere in italy.

so you've heard there's never a dull moment, with several children from her father's marriages, and general family affairs. helaena was as mild mannered as they could come, but even she comes back from summers spent with the rest of her family smoking to ease some tension. you'd held her drunk ass up enough times to know her family spelled nothing but chaos.

"oh, i'm about to do exactly that." helaena nods, grabbing onto your arm with a grip that has your reeling.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying. 

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer. 

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm. 

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant. 

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines. 

John’s icon dims. 

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to. 

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you. 

He tried to call as often as he could. 

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down. 

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic. 

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.” 

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening. 

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind. 

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?” 

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work. 

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth. 

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together. 

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad? 

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears. 

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.” 

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted? 

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him. 

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind. 

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with. 

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present. 

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…” 

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear. 

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?” 

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring. 

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts. 

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor. 

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs. 

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.” 

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin. 

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing. 

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?” 

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation. 

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.” 

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords. 

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else. 

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences. 

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips. 

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends. 

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute. 

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later. 

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?” 

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?” 

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name. 

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed. 

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click. 

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms. 

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat. 

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening. 

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh. 

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.” 

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod. 

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.” 

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room. 

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.” 

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight. 

You steel yourself and raise the box. 

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair. 

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully. 

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm. 

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead. 

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders. 

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed. 

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship. 

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!” 

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly. 

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.” 

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it. 

Pregnant. 

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly. 

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts. 

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss. 

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold. 

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again. 

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.” 

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.” 

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.” 

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.” 

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second. 

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.” 

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child. 

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.” 

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.” 

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave. 

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

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[divinesangel]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞?

pm me for an affordable, in-depth personal or soulmate reading! ko-fi.com/solreads

— 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

it's very likely for you to meet this person in a place where people are very outgoing, have a lot of passion, and they are always on the go. it could be a bustling city with a touch of a mystique energy, or a place where maybe religion or sacred places are prominent. i'm getting vibes of a vibrant café in a corner where you're able to feel and smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee along with people's conversations and day-to-day life. everyone's on their own reality and each lost in their own world. however, amidst the crowd and these people, you catch a glimpse of someone who stands out, a figure exuding confidence and charm, also with a hint of determination and confidence. this is someone that from the very beginning you will notice that it embodies the energy of someone adventurous, daring, or someone with a fiery passion or energy that ignites curiosity within you. there is going to be an exchange of glances, almost as if it is an instant recognition, like an instant acknowledgement of a connection that transcends words. their vibe or energy is going to be quite enigmatic and there's a level of depth in them that will draw you in. you both will feel this magnetic pull and as you approach each other or by the moment one of you decides to do something, you will soon find yourself engaged in a conversation that flows effortlessly and where you both will feel the gentle butterflies. one of the things that you'll be noticing is how kind and compassionate this person is and how romantic they can be sometimes. it's the type of behaviour that will speak to your soul and make you feel a certain way, a way you haven't felt before. there is a sense of innocence and sincerity in this person that adds a spark of curiosity from them when it comes to you. together, you'll find yourselves immersed in a very lively exchange, sharing stories, dreams, and aspirations. it will be at this moment that you will realize that you've stumbled upon something truly unique and magical.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

you'll meet your soulmate in a place where the sun shines brightly and the sunlight pours in through wide windows, filling several rooms of the street with a warm, inviting glow. it's going to be a place where people go out to enjoy themselves, and during this day, a lot of people are going to be outside enjoying the weather and the warmth that it brings. everyone is going to be soaking up the sunshine and enjoying the simple pleasures of life. when it comes to you, i feel like that as you go about your day, you'll find yourself at a crossroads. this could be a part of your life where you could be facing a decision that weighs heavily on your mind. it could be a choice about your career, your relationships, or your personal goals. it's like you will feel torn between different options, unsure of which path to take, and anxious about the consequences of your decision and wondering if you're on the right path. this turmoil may make you experience sleepless nights, tossing and turning as worries and fears swirl in your mind. the nights seem to amplify your concerns, leaving you feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. and i feel like during this day that you will meet your soulmate, you will make the decision to go out and try to enjoy yourself more, instead of always being at home overthinking things. because despite the uncertainty and anxiety, you'll have the resilience and you'll be brave enough to throw yourself into your work and yourself with a lot of focus on determination. these uncertainties and anxieties might also have to do with past heartaches or disappointments. there's like a lingering fear of getting hurt again or a fear of opening up and being vulnerable. all stemming from the past. you'll be devoting yourself to your pursuits and trying to be more productive, with the aim of not thinking too much about the future. then, when you least expect it, this person will walk into your life. i feel like it's very likely for you to meet this person while they're working somewhere or they're helping someone with something. there's a sense of working on something that i'm picking up, and it's something that you will admire about this person. i feel like at first, you will admire them from afar, and i don't see you taking any steps towards this person, but i feel like there is going to be maybe a friend of yours that will introduce you to them, or perhaps there could be someone around you that knows this person that could introduce you to them.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

you will meet your soulmate in a place where there's a lot of people. it could be a very bustling urban setting where people seek to thrive and they are always busy. it's a very busy environment and i feel like when it comes to the place where you will meet them, it could be at a working event, a conference, or even a lively co-working space. there is a lot of energy filled with people hustling to achieve their goals and a lot of conversations on future plans. there is a legal sense to this, so it could be that this person might be someone in a higher position than you, or someone with a respectable job. in this connection, i feel like there could be a lot of ups and downs because at first the connection might not flow that very well and you could feel like there could be some tension and it's very likely that you won't really know whether this person likes you or not because of their cold behavior or an expressive self. at first, you could feel that there's not really much to do with this person or like maybe nothing else is going to be happening, but that's something that changes quite soon. it sort of feels like an enemies to lovers type of thing. as you get to know each other, you'll discover that they share your values and aspirations, they're very driven, ambitious, and determined to succeed, and you will find yourself in them. i feel like at the time you may not notice this part of you, but once you get to know them more, you'll figure out and discover that you're actually quite ambitious and determined as well. besides that, i feel like you'll find yourself discussing big ideas, making plans for the future, and supporting each other's dreams. you'll be able to navigate the ups and downs of life as a team, finding strength in each other's company, and of course you'll also share laughter, challenges, and moments of quiet understanding as your relationship deepens and evolves. eventually, you'll realize that this person is the one you've been searching for, and it's going to be quite funny for the both of you to look back and analyze how everything went down. from feeling tense around each other and not really knowing what to talk about or do around each other, to being together in a very loving and healthy connection.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !

hi! it's daphne here.

i'm currently offering personal readings for €5 and soulmate readings for €10 so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!

thank you for being here!

[shotmrmiller]

dark-ish simon but only because he cares :(

thinking about how you were doing something menial, like taking out the trash when simon's on leave and he tries to reach for the bags but—

"i've got it, simon. i'm strong and independent too, y'know?" it's such an innocuous comment. light as a feather but it lands heavily on simon's psyche. it'd been a gentle tease meant to brush off his assistance.

but insecurity takes hold instead. an unwanted seed taking root in his head. it has him spiraling, your words twisting and turning, taking a life of their own.

what now? first it's the trash, then it'll be the groceries. the car note. the mortgage. how long will it take until he's no longer wanted? no longer needed?

he watches you, silent as ever, as you titter around with a soft smile on your lips as you water the drying plants on the windowsill. take out a step stool to reach for the cups on the top shelf. open a jar of pickles with a knife, sliding the pointed tip of it under the lid until the seal breaks with a pop.

you've learned to live without him.

he can feel the ground beneath him crumble.

it strangles the last tatters of rationality he has. (not like he had much of a grasp on it to begin with, especially where you're concerned.) he can't have you thinking of him as a choice. to cast him aside, to realize that there's probably better out there for you. someone who won't be gone for months at a time, who won't flirt with death daily.

not when you're it for him.

it grips at his racing heart, panic digging its spurs into his chest. he needs you with a ferocity that transcends obsession. and he needs to be needed by you in equal measure.

it's not just about him anymore— it's about you. 'us'. he won't let you slip through his fingers like grains of sand, not when you're the only reason he fights to come back home. the steady rhythm of your heart, when he lays his head on your chest, is the closest thing to peace he'll ever know.

his determination hardens like tempered steel, his purpose sharpening. simon walks the tightrope of moral ambiguity at all times. nothing new.

this is the only way, he tells himself. the only way to reaffirm his place in your world.

your quiet voice fills the silence of your shared flat as you ramble about the latest gossip there is at your job, unaware that simon is currently messaging johnny and kyle the closest thing to a plea for help they'll ever get from him.

meet me at the usual in an hour. we'll talk then.

he's going to do what he does best.

keep the bad men away.

you'll never know a thing.