#i do wonder if she will react the same way as she does to like images moving on screen though. (my sending her anything also depends on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nsharks · 1 year

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Hi! I love love LOVE the way you write Ghost and his relationship w/ the reader!! Ignore me if requests are closed, but how did he react when the reader discovered she was pregnant???

"surprising ghost with a pregnancy" words: 1.8k tags: pregnant reader, fem!reader, slight angst?, fluff

“Hope ya don’t miss me during breaks, Lt.”

Soap watches the man he admires, in his infamous ruthlessness and all, stare with a straight gaze at the base’s entrance.

“Only when I drink too much,” Ghost says.

His mask is good for anonymity, yes. But it also does well in moments like these: the Scot beside him has no idea of the pulsing artery in his neck, the eagerness in each flicker of his gaze. He’s looking for you. Looking beyond the gates where you should be hidden somewhere.

Soap has no idea.

“What do you do in your free time, mate?” Soap wonders aloud, shifting the bag over his shoulder. Then, in a cheeky murmur, “Didn’t hear this from me, but I’ve heard whispers ‘bout some criminal activity.”

“Criminal activity?” Ghost repeats dully.

They’re getting closer.

He looks towards the spot you normally wait for him in: is that—?

He can see you.

The tension in his limbs fades to adoration. In the shadows, perfectly hidden but readily visible to his knowing eyes, is his girlfriend. Wearing one of the black hoodies he’d left behind. So big on you. He nearly groans at the sight.

Girlfriend is a weak title.

He hates it. It doesn’t encompass the truth of you: it’s such a simple word, too simple to capture how complicated of an effect you’d had on his life for nearly five years. To say Ghost loves his girlfriend would be to say he has a reason to live. It would be to say that you’ve got this behemoth of a man wrapped so tightly around your finger that his lungs just don’t work the same until he’s holding you.

(Perhaps that’s the reason for the little black box in his bag.)

He turns to the Sergeant and gives a half-hearted clap to his shoulder. “I save the criminal activity for weekends, Johnny.”

And with that, he leaves him (never was one for heartfelt goodbyes).

But he is now one for heartfelt reunions, he figures, because he’s ghosting his way towards you like some wild creature. Preying. Slipping under any eyes. His skeletal hands beyond desperate.

If Soap were to look carefully outside, under the shadow of the building, he’d see how the Lieutenant actually spends his free time.

He’d see his broad form envelop you.

He’d see him eagerly inch up his mask to reveal a pink mouth that doesn’t waste any time before sealing over yours.

And maybe, if he really looked, Soap might’ve been able to see how you cling to Ghost’s chest and tremble.

(But Soap doesn’t see any of this. Not today.)

Not even Ghost, whose got you in his arms, sees the shaking at first. His mind is a bit frenzied with the sensory overload of your smell, your soft hair, your breasts against his chest.

He only ends the kiss so he can get a good look at your face.

“Three months,” he grumbles, lips wet as he ushers the mask back over them. “Felt like a fuckin’ lifetime.”

“I know,” you whisper, but you fail to meet his eyes. “I was worried about you.”

The faintest contour of a smirk beneath his mask.

“Worried, were you?” He rubs your knuckles. “Lovely girl. Don’ worry about me. I’m a bit tough to kill.”

“Don’t,” your eyebrows pinch together. “Please… don’t even mention that.”

He rests his masked chin on top the crown of your head. His arms are so strong and warm and you breathe it all in. His hands stroke your hair with the gentlest of caresses as if, even after five years, he thinks you might be a fragile dream.

“I was so worried,” you say again. A whisper that he barely hears. “I—“

It’s now that he notices something. The rush of adrenaline has soothed over and now, taking your hands in his, Ghost notices the little tremors, swallows them up in the gulf of his large palms.

“Jesus, love,” he frowns. “You’re trembling.”

“There’s… something—“

Ashen eyelashes flutter against smudges of black paint. His shoulders tense as he pulls his chin away from your scented hair. Shifting his weight from boot to boot, Ghost further tucks you behind the colossal mass of him so even now, if someone were to look, all they’d see was his back.

His brows furrow behind a hard-shell skull. “What something?”

You’ve practiced these word so many times but now—

“What?” your boyfriend repeats, low and gruff. His relief is quickly turning into something dark. “Fuck, tell me. Did somethin’ happen?”

“Well, yes—“

“Christ,” he chokes. He doesn’t want to assume the worst, but it’s a gnawing fear. Always. “Someone else?”

“No, Simon.” You’re shaking your head. “It’s not that—“

“What is it then? What’s got you like this?”

“Just—“ and you swallow your fear, “Give me your hand, baby.”

“My hand,” he repeats numbly and offers you one. You take his hand and tug at the glove. There’s little give, so he swears under his breath and helps you pry the fabric off to reveal warm, calloused skin.

Here, tucked away outside a military base, you guide his bare hand under the hoodie you’ve got on. Hold his fingers and spread them apart so he can cup the small growth of your stomach.

Because the reason for your trembling lies here.

Small, growing. Supple skin stretching over a little piece of him and you.

It takes him a moment to process the news under his hand.

He smooths his hand over you. Even after three months, he knows every inch.

This—

This feels different.

You watch a kaleidoscope of realizations, feelings, and perturbation play in his eyes.

You’ve had to keep this secret to yourself for weeks now because it wasn’t something you could just share over the phone. It was too heavy. Too intimate.

Surely, it’ll distract him from his job.

That’s what you figured. But now—

—seeing his eyes cloud frantically, you wonder if showing up 16 weeks pregnant was the best move.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost murmurs. Keeps moving his hand over your little belly as if he’s not quite sure it’s real.

So you lift up the hoodie even more, just here for the two of you to see, and reveal the entirety of your secret for him to peer down at.

And now that he sees it, the unmistakeable bulge, the reality truly sinks in.

He’s silent at first. You kind of expected him to be: your boyfriend is a man of few words. But it doesn’t make the drawn-out moment of uncertainty any less excruciating. You study his eyes with a bated breath.

Children. It’s not something you talked about too much. He’d said in the very beginning that it was completely off the table because “I’d make an awful father”.

But that was years ago and Simon had molded into someone softer, someone less afraid. Someone who, with the help of your love and light, had ripped through the tangled ropes of distrust and guilt that he’d been caught in.

“Say something,” you finally whisper. “Please, Simon. I know- I know this is surprising.”

But all he utters is, “How?”

“The pill isn’t perfect,” you explain sheepishly. “That’s what the doctor told me—“

“…Doctor?”

“Well, I’ve been to the doctor a few times already.”

Lowly, “You… a few times?”

“To make sure everything was alright, baby,” you whisper carefully. “But I— I didn’t ask for the sex yet. I wanted to… I thought you’d want to be with me for that.”

Ghost is controlled. He’s precise and tactical and rarely caught off-guard. But this, the swell that lays under his hand which he hasn’t been able to look away from, has managed to thrust him into feelings he rarely experiences. He feels confused. Shaken to the core. He’s spent most of his adult life determined to stay alone, protect anyone from ever getting caught in the hallow storm of tragedy that is his life.

But you—

You infiltrated his life with promises of bright colors and warm touches and suddenly, somehow, Ghost began to enjoy coming home. He ached for it. He wanted to keep you close and safely tucked away so that little light of yours would never fade from his life.

And now you’ve given him another promise, one that rests in his palm. Death— he understands that too well, perhaps. But this little promise of life is so new and confusing and in mere seconds, it has torn the past from the future. Ghost could never be the same shell of a person he once was because now he’s been filled to the brim. Could he even be trusted with all of this? He’d always felt like there was a carved void where his boyhood had been taken from him, ripped away by terror. How could he be a father with such hole in his chest?

What could he give?

You’re crying. He’s been thrown into such a daze that he failed to notice the onslaught of tears and quiet sniffling coming from his girl.

“Hey,” he’s grounded in the present now, swallowing down the shards of his hesitation and wrapping his arms around you. He could give this. “Hey now. I’m here… I’m here.”

“You’re here?” you ask him, weeping.

“Yes, sweetheart. Christ, m’here. Always.”

In perhaps his first act of fatherhood, Ghost holds you close and murmurs promises of love and safety into your hair. You’d been so scared to tell him. He wouldn’t leave you, no, he could never. If there was ever an ounce of worry that he might—

It’s now smothered by his presence, his warmth, his strength.

“You’re making me a father,” Ghost whispers after the two of you just stand there for sometime. His voice: terrified and in awe all at once. “Don’t know if I’ll be a good one.”

“Simon-“

“But-“ And he gives the entirety of you a squeeze. He’s not going anywhere. “But I won’t be like my old man. Fuck, I swear it to you.”

“I know you won’t, Simon.”

Ghost decides to push his inhibitions to the back of his mind. He can be strong, he can be what you need. He will prove this to you over and over.

“And here I thought you jus’ liked wearing my clothes,” Ghost mumbles, a bit numb and a bit elated.

He reaches for your stomach again and rubs the bump over the fabric of his hoodie. (Perhaps, here lies another reason to live.)

Your crying has ceased. Twisting his uniform in your hands, you murmur with a weak laugh, “Might be the only thing that fits me soon.”

“Bloody hell.” And Ghost sighs. Holding the two of you now, he already feels like all the synapses in his brain have been rewired. Lighted up with a primal urge to protect, he doesn’t think about all the worries for right now. No— just thinks about how he’s going to smother your stomach with kisses once you’re home.

“I’ve got plenty more of those for you to wear.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #call of duty #fluff #pregnancy #dad ghost

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futureplayboibunnie · 10 months

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Aphrodesiacs Pt. 4

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

mmmmmm heated.

the way you guys are eating this up makes me so damn giggly. love u fr. i’m feeding u crumb by crumb.

BROOO NSFW 18+ ykykyk

A few days had passed, still actively avoiding each other, still actively desperate for each other.

Your lips were bleeding raw. It was a nervous habit now, chewing and knawing in your lips to conceal the broken moan escaping from your throat. It was like second nature, you were actually wondering if Miguel could actually see through your eyes.

Miguel was in his office, late again as usual, and he made sure that Lyla placed you as far away from him at HQ as possible, so you ended up in the shitty lab that you hated. He contemplated not letting you at HQ at all at night when he was here. But you actually wanted to see this suppressant through, you couldn’t give up. You had to at least try, no matter how hard Miguel pushed his distinctive and contrasting ideology onto you. You had to be sure, even if it was all for nothing.

You ran a diagnostic and everything seemed…fine. It would be smarter to wait but you had to try it out, not even bothering to drink it yourself first, you wanted to give it to Miguel so you could see that smug, God-like look from his face fade into normalcy: not being whipped over each other. As you closed the lights in the lab in a hurry, Lyla glitched in front of you as you headed out. You sighed as she crossed her arms and tapped her foot, a strange look forming on her face.

“Where ya going?” She said surprisingly chipper but you know she had an ultrerior motive. You waved a hand into the air she was in but she glitched to the side of you as you walked completely determined.

“Nowhere…” You mumbled, a frown settling on your lips. She didn’t believe it and she glitched in front of you again.

“He said doesn’t want to see you.” She shut her eyes and rattled your nerves with that sing song voice. Oh he doesn’t want to see you? Well, that’s funny. You would bet all your possessions to the fact that he does definitely need to see you, he just can’t because of some misbegotten respect out of his own moral code. You scowled.

“I don’t care. I have to show him something.” You gritted out hestitantly as you raised the vial up.

“Sorryyyy, no can do.” She smiled warmly and then before you can even blink, a red glitchy quilt of a cage Miguel would use for anomolies covered you. You blinked rapidly, filled with nothing but rage at the holographic AI.

Why the hell was everyone trying control you? Miguel. Lyla. Who next, Jess? This was between you and Miguel only, you didn’t care if Lyla was practically an extension of him, all you wanted was for all of this to go away. Even if you moved across the globe from him and met the hottest guy with the biggest dick, you still wouldn’t be able to unsheath yourself from the biggest problem: Miguel. As your palms hit the glitchy forcefield, you grunted hard. A thought flashed through you: what would this be like if you stopped being Spiderwoman? You shook your head and elbowed the shield.

“Lyla. I swear to God, if you don’t let me out-“ Your teeth were threatening to shatter as you glared at the faux pout that Lyla had.

“Sorryyy. Boss’s orders. Gotta go, Margo needs me!” She giggled before disappearing into thin air.

“What the hell? Are you just going to leave me here?” You yelled at nothing but a blank space. No other spiders were here, how the fuck were you supposed to do until morning? Thank God, the lights were still dimly lit so you wouldn’t be trapped in darkness…and Miguel was still here.

You felt it. In your bones you felt it.

No, no, no.

An unbidden image if him fucking you over his desk from behind as he pulled your hair seared into your mind. You felt it, you felt the thought react to all corners of your body. It would be so hard, so rough, so intense….He would cum all over your back and then plug his cock back in you. God, he would-

Please, not now. Please, why now?

Miguel wasn’t making any actual, practical effort to find a solution for any of this. His whole schtick was avoidance, he had done it to many women in his life, he could do it with you. Enough of being this weak, pathetic man, he could keep all of this in check if he just focus and didn’t let his mind wander or drift. He could do it. Yes, he knew he could.

Even though he was trying to not think about these primitive urges towards you, he couldn’t help a ribbon of curiosity flow through him about you. Why you? Yes it was the spider that was the root cause of this, but you….He wanted to know more. Miguel was an insatiable man with a trust that he beats down reguarly. He doesn’t trust. Ever. Even in his society, he knew that every single society and every single person in those societies had an agenda. Including him. His agenda right now was not fucking you.

He glared at his orange screens, watching clips of you fighting, clips of you walking around HQ. As much as he thought it was just “normal” curiosity with no lustridden intent, he couldn’t help but gawk at you like a fool. What was it about you that made you so damn attractive? It couldn’t have just been the spider that made him see that. He wanted to know more about you, your friends, your life….

In a fit of impulse, he wanted to hack remotely into your phone. It wasn’t even a second thought. As he had to remind himself…”just curious.” He then toggled his morals back on, this was such an invasion of privacy. It’s just so awful of him to do this, but his impulses were deemed more important right now.

He sighed loudly and screwed his eyes shut. Fine, he would destroy any pathway he had to get to your phone after this. He would never do it again.

It took about 20 minutes to do it, but he finally got in. He winced at how he was acting but as soon as his orange screens mirrored your phone, he pushed the feeling aside with a grunt and raised his fingers to start scrolling through your phone remotely using the screens. He went on your texts and there were multiple guys lined up just begging to fuck you. Your hookups were desperate for you and they wanted more. The texts you sent were very blunt and he couldn’t stop his brow from furrowing as his eyes skimmed.

- Come fuck. Left the door open

- On the way.

it should be Miguel that kicks the door in to see you, his face contorted into a snarl just imagining someone else doing it. He knew he shouldn’t but he kept scrolling.

- Need to ask you something.

- What about.

- Are you fucking a guy called Miguel or something

- What? No.

Miguel’s eyes widened as he read the message. What? He was stunned and tinged with a heated anger. You were talking about this to other people? No one could know, that was the first thing you were both told.

- Then why’d you whimper his name when we fucked.

You didn’t answer that text. Miguel’s mouth unhinged open as he saw those little words written out in front of him. Wait…you fucked other guys and…pretended it was him? Like Miguel was doing to all his women? Jesus Christ, this really wasn’t manageable. You moaned his fucking name when another guy had his dick in you. He felt so fucking smug and triumphant, a smirk lifted up his face. Oh the thing’s he’d do to you in order to make you whimper his name. Your other men must be racking their brains and going crazy trying to found out who he is.

You had a few friends you shot messages too but all there were now recently were hookups. Miguel frowned. He went to one chat and his eyes started gleaming red. He scrolled and found a picture of you. Posing for the camera for this random guy. Naked. Miguel swore he felt the vein on his temple thrum behind his skin, his dick hardened so fast that he was sure he’d be the most pathetic man on Earth, but how could he not? You looked so…delicious.

You were sat down on the edge of your bed, phone angled to the side so that your chin rested on your shoulder, the look on your face made him groan. You pouted at the camera and tensed your brows, lips glossed and wet, eyes gleaming with desperation and arousal. Your legs were spread wide apart and he could see very clearly how wet you were, your tits sat so prettily he just had to close his eyes and grunt. “Oh my fucking God….”

Your body was better than he could ever fucking imagine, your thighs especially. He couldn’t wait to eat you out. He wanted to frame this picture and put it on his desk so he could fuck his fist while he worked, maybe he’d get you to suck his dick under the table and-

No. Por favor. Control yourself. This means nothing.

He was lying. This meant everything.

He was pulled by his mindless gawk unkindly as an alert popped up on his screen, it was the security camera picking up on something.

You.

“Lyla! I swear to God someone let me out! I can’t be here all night. Miguel?” You screamed, he looked at the live footage and he sighed thickly. His face was hard, his eyes were mean and bore a visciois crimson hue. Seeing you like that, posing for another man made him jealous beyond pure reason. He would put a bullet between his eyes and fuck your face after he did it.

Miguel shook his head hoping to fly away this tangible and unreasonable jealousy. He was doing the exact same thing, he fucked other women like it was a new hobby and in some ways it quite had to be. But they really didn’t mean anything. They weren’t you. It felt like nothing too. Though, he didn’t know if your hookups meant nothing to you. Maybe you were in love with one of them, that’s why you were so desperate for a suppressant so you could truly love someone else. Miguel’s face went blank and then contorted back to pissed again. He was the one that told you to stay away from him….

He punched the console that helped him hack your phone and then threw it across the room in a fit of anger. He stood still for a minute and raked a hand to regain his composure. He took a few deep breaths to find balance again and then walked out of his office and to where you were so he could make you go home and stay there.

Miguel clenched his fists in order to avoid punching any more of the infrastructure and he felt his knuckles turn a piercing white. He found you in the distance in the red forcefield, looking unhappy as ever and all he could envision was you naked under the suit. He groaned as he approached you, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The look you gave him was deadly. You were so pissed. This wasn’t normal anger, it was animalistic and wild. You were sure you were turning more and more red the longer you stood. Viscious wasn’t the first thing you were about to be right now.

“Let me out of this goddamn cage right now Miguel.” You quietly seethed, eyes piercing and frown growing. He had never seen you this angry before, it was alarming yet refreshing. He mirrored your exact same look as he took the forcefield down, your body langue nor your face seemed thankful.

His eyes flicked at the vials and his face grew even more indifferent, he stepped forward and snatched the vials from your hand and crushed them with his palm as you watched in disbelief. Your mouth opened in a gasp and then you fell even more furious than before. You grabbed onto his collar and leaned in, faces still bearing the same scowl, up real close.

Instead his free hand pulled your hair back and he whispered in your ear. “Don’t send naked pictures of yourself to anyone else from now on, we clear?” He spat out coldly, venom boiling and seeping into his blood as he uttered the words.

You attempted to hide the flash of surprise on your face through the anger but what was impossible to conceal was your arousal. How the hell did he know? What the fuck was he doing? It’ll be a snowy day in hell before you ever forgive him for breaking the vials. You gave him a poisonous look before you leaned in to his ear, his scent already messing with your brainwaves.

“Next time I see you…I’ll kill you myself”

He let go of you and then turned his back on you, forming a portal for you and for himself, glancing at each other as you walked through it and disappearing into the night.

i’m making it painful. i’m making u wait for it ahahahaha

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @tbeanie3 @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house @defnot-bri @awkward-d3rs3-dramer @hasai69 @unnisumi @irongardenermaker @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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dalliancekay · 2 months

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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. Mainly as the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop.

Then drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Also, the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3, to I assume, even out the scores. Some people want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he's done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. But he died in the one he bought for the wedding. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating too, by furiously trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people I love, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck. I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, how can I help though, I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spent the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? Why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. He was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress. He will learn to be more open, I' sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, but asking how I am can only end in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do).

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #ineffable divorce #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #aziraphale defense squad #suffering in silence #grief #tw grief #dealing with grief #loss #tw death #kaypost

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mercurygguk · 9 months

Text

head over skates · jjk ; part i.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can't stand it.

so what happens when you're suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,514

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing

a/n; HEAD OVER SKATES SERIES IS HERE!!!! it’s a drabble series now so these chapters will be short but that’s better than nothing amirite :)) i hope you like this first part! enjoyyy <3 also, please lmk what you think!

“The project will be done in pairs of two–”

Jihyo copies your smirk from across the room as you lock eyes with her. You were thinking the same thing – you and her will pair up and do this project together. As best friends and classmates since freshman year, you’ve learned that you work the best alongside each other. However, both of your smirks crumble into tiny pieces as Professor Kim finishes her sentence.

“–which have already been decided beforehand.”

You let out a quiet, frustrated groan as you slump in your seat. Jihyo pouts and shoots a glare at Professor Kim without her noticing. You watch with a bored expression as she pulls up a document showing the pairs for the project. You skim the document until your eyes land on your name, written in Times New Roman right next to–

Oh, hell no.

The universe has a sick sense of humor, is the first thought your brain is able to process as you stare at the name written next to yours. It’s the name of the one person you haven’t spoken to since senior year of high school. It’s the name of the one person you still hold a grudge against. It’s the name of your childhood best friend and high school crush – Jeon Jungkook.

When you first met Jungkook, he was just 5 years old and nothing like the man he is today.

Back then he had just moved in across the street and it didn’t take long for you to realize he was the cutest, most shy little boy – you can ask anyone who knew him back then. He was careful with everything from animals to dead objects to other people and yet he was just a pinch of wild and reckless enough to allow himself to do some of the crazy stuff kids do when growing up. He was smaller than the other boys at his age; short and skinny, a round head, framed by his thick strands of black hair. He also had big, star-filled doe eyes that could convince any adult to let him have everything his way. And having his way was something Jungkook got used to as he grew older – sometimes a bit too much perhaps.

As his best friend during all the years going from elementary school through middle school and the first years of high school, you witnessed it first hand – teachers and his friends alike were all willing to go out of their way to make sure Jungkook was satisfied. No one really knows how that came to be – perhaps it had nothing to do with Jungkook at all but everything to do with the fact that his father was the board director at one of the biggest enterprises in the country.

Jungkook has always been very oblivious, hence why he didn’t put much thought into the special treatment he received from everyone as soon as people found out just how rich his parents were.

While in middle school, he had yet to realize how girls were starting to look at him, how they would giggle whenever he would flash his boyish smile in their direction, how they would almost trip over each other to get his attention and call his name during lunch breaks only to blush and say ‘nevermind’ when he would finally react. Jungkook had yet to realize that he was becoming hotter and less shy. He was oblivious as ever but still cute nonetheless.

And while all this went down, you watched from the sideline, wondering when he would realize – wondering when your friendship would end. Because it would. You knew that from the moment Jungkook flirtatiously smirked and winked at your friend one day without realizing. Or maybe he did. Either way, you realized it on his behalf – he was slowly becoming a big flirt.

It’s now five years later and you were right. And as much as you like to be right, you’ve never hated it more.

Your friendship did end.

It started fading out almost as soon as Jungkook realized what he was able to achieve with his good looks and flirty nature. Now you and Jungkook attend the same college but in two different worlds most of the time. The chances of you and him ever going back to being friends like you were when you were pre-teens are minimal. And it’s not like you’re trying to befriend him again.

Cocky jocks who think they’re the shit aren’t exactly your first choice when making friends.

And somehow during your high school junior year, Jungkook became one of them. He picked up on the term ‘working out’ and found out he had muscles and how to grow them. He also found out how to use those exact muscles to make the girls swoon, making them feed his ego way more than what is considered healthy. And as if that wasn't enough, Jungkook began practicing hockey.

And guess what? He was damn good at it.

Ego overfed.

As time went by, you and Jungkook talked less. He was busy with his new friends, playing hockey, and hanging out with girls that were way more interesting than his best friend, also known as you. Eventually you found yourself spending time with other people instead of him, finding it tiring and painful to be the second choice whenever his other friends didn’t have time or when his parents would mention you and he would 'suddenly' remember you existed.

The sight of different girls from school entering and leaving his house without his parents knowing wasn’t that fun either if you’re being honest.

Although, you never actually told him that – but you didn’t have to because the two of you were gliding apart by each day you spent doing your own thing. It hurt but your silly crush eventually turned into anger which later turned into despisal and borderline hatred towards your former best friend. Because Jeon Jungkook was nothing more than just another jock with an overfed ego and way too many fangirls trailing behind him everywhere he goes.

Your point is deemed proven the moment Jungkook gets up from his seat in the back and makes his way to you – said fangirls all turn their scowling gazes to you the second they realize what is happening. You feel his presence before he opens his mouth to greet you, something about it making your stomach churn as he plops down in the seat next to you.

“Hey, partner,” he grins when you slowly turn to face him. “What are the odds, huh?”

You don’t spare him a glance nor a reply as you get up from your seat, leaving him behind and trying your very best to ignore the way his eyes follow your every move. Your professor seems less than excited to see you standing next to her desk as she looks up at you.

“Mrs. Kim,” you offer her your best polite smile, “is there any chance it’s possible to change partners for this project? It seems-”

Professor Kim glances back to your spot where Jungkook is sitting in the next chair, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back, hints of a smirk on his lips as he watches you and Mrs. Kim. “Miss ____, the pairs have been decided beforehand for a reason. I was hoping to save time and energy by doing this and will not be spending said saved energy on splitting up pairs just because you’re unhappy with yours.”

You feel a frustrated whine push at the back of your throat as the words leave her red-tinted lips. “But-”

“____, I know you prefer to work with Jihyo in every class you share,” she pointedly and calmly says. “But as the professor, it is my job to challenge the students and push them out of their comfort zone. If there aren’t any actual issues with having Mr. Jeon as your partner, I suggest you take on the challenge and get the best out of it.”

The fake smile she shoots at you has you frowning as you turn on your heel, defeat hanging over you in a gray cloud as you make your way back to your seat. Jungkook’s smirk has widened and he seems more than satisfied by the fact that your request got rejected by the professor. You slump in your seat once again, stealing a glance at Jihyo who got paired up with none other than Kim Namjoon – the top student of this class and her crush.

What a lucky bitch.

“Cheer up, ____,” Jungkook’s voice intrudes your thoughts, pulling you back. He’s smiling smugly when you turn to face him for the first time since he sat down. “I promise I’ll behave.”

You huff out an unimpressed scoff and turn your attention to your notes, the grip on your pen so tight your knuckles turn white. You miss the way Jungkook’s smile falters a little as you look away.

This is going to be the longest three weeks of your life – you’re sure of it.

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 months

Note

Hi, I've just discovered your page, and I love all your stories, Especially the Alastor x Readers. So, I was just wondering if you could do an Alastor x Fem Reader, like how would he react to his doe announcing being pregnant/ How would he be as a dad? Also the same for Lucifer? if it's not too much?

Family Man

Alastor x GN!Reader, Lucifer x GN! Reader

A/N: Hihi! Thank you so much for requesting friend! I made this more into a headcanon/fic thing! Thank you for your kind words, friend!

TW:Pregnancy, anxiety that comes with that topic, Alastor being Alastor

Alastor:

-🦌 First off when you told him, he was silent for a very very long time. I’m talking full on deer in headlights moment, he stayed like that for an hour. Your poor husband was confused and his brain had to reboot.

-🦌 Once he gets out of his funk, he’s going to ask you if your okay with that and if having a family is what you want. Don’t get me wrong, he’s excited but he’s also extremely nervous. He never thought of himself as a family man.

-🦌 It’s not that he hates kids or children in general he just never saw the interest in them. Little tiny humans running around just didn’t appeal to him, he also didn’t have time when he was alive. Ya know between killing and running his radio show.

-🦌 But once he makes sure it’s what you wanted? He’s going all out, I’m talking about getting everything from a bigger room in the hotel to little baby clothes (he acts like he’s uninterested but by Lucifer you catch his eyes lingering a little too long with a certain softness).

-🦌 Won’t let you lift a finger at all (not like he didn’t before). 100% more overprotective than anything. You want to go out on a walk? He’s with you immediately, arm wrapped around your waist. He can’t go with you? His shadows are following you.

Alastor was in the middle of a conversation disagreement with Husk before his focus was pulled away seeing you put on your coat, “Darling, where are you off to on this fine Hellish afternoon?” He asked, appearing behind you with his arm wrapped around your waist as he bent down to gently kiss your cheek. “Going on walk,” You hummed as he sent a gaze down towards your growing belly. “Perfect!~ Maybe if you're up for it we can stop by Cannibal Town to speak with Rosie~” He hummed, forgetting all about the conversation from before his focus mainly on you.

-🦌 Speaking of Rosie, once she knows about your pregnancy she’d be over the moon and makes it her mission to watch over you if Alastor has “business” murder to attend to as well as makes herself an Auntie. You didn’t mind at all.

-🦌 Once you go into labor? He is right beside you wiping your forehead and allowing you to squeeze his hand as much as you want. As well as making death threats to whoever was helping you deliver the baby whether that be a doctor or someone from the Hotel. He has very creative ways of explaining how he would skin someone from head to toe. If you weren’t in so much pain (and delirious from the medication) you would’ve told him to chill.

-🦌 Now once the baby is in your arms and he’s calmed down significantly, he’s going to be pampering you and his child. He doesn’t care for what the gender of his child is, he just wants you and his child to be happy.

-🦌 Now, this might go without saying but Alastor is a Mama’s boy through and through so if he does end up having a daughter there is a chance he might name her after his mother in someway. If it’s a boy, he’ll allow you to have full reign on the naming process while giving his input as well.

-🦌 Now, I see Alastor as a laid back but strict parent. He’ll allow his kid(s) to have full reign and learn what hurts them or not. But will step in if they are truly in danger or about to get seriously hurt. Will give out amazing advice when needed. But most likely will stay back.

-🦌 No matter the gender of his kid(s), they will sit with him in his radio tower as he shows them what does what. He does this mostly when they are babies or toddlers when they get older he actually teaches them on what does what and how to successfully run a radio show. You have caught him doing this multiple times and he has yet to apologize cause they need to know how important radio is.

You were making your way up to your husband’s tower as you had a sneaking suspicion that he had once again taken your child up there. As you entered through the hatch you watched the display of your husband holding the sleeping toddler in his arms as he rocked back and forth. “These dials right here help you change the frequency and volume of your show..” he softly whispered out his ears, flickering noting your sudden appearance. You walked over as quietly as you could watching as the small tail on your toddler wagged in their sleep. You didn’t dare disrupt him now as he had a way of getting them to bed easily.

-🦌 Overall, he would be great in some aspects. Once again very laid back but still very much present and active in everything involving both you and your child together. He has some flaws in his parenting but honestly who doesn’t. 7/10 in my books.

-🦌 Oh also- Dad jokes all day, every day. He once again will not apologize, good luck.

Lucifer:

-🍎 Oh boy our favorite short King in the house. He’s done this rodeo for Charlie all those years ago, he knows what to do.

-🍎 But once you tell him in the form of rubber duckies (idk that seems so cute to me) he looks up at you confused before he starts bawling. Don’t worry it’s because he is super excited and he’s an emotional guy, please give him hugs and kisses.

-🍎 Once he is done crying, he picks you up and spins you around before the anxiety sets in. Do you want to be a parent? What if he isn’t a good father? What he fucks up again?

-🍎 Please reassure him and give him more kisses, tell him you do want to be a parent with him and he’ll be a great father and if he fucks up, you’ll be there 100% of the way to help him back on the right track. He appreciates you so much.

-🍎 He is super nervous to tell Charlie cause what if she doesn’t approve? What if she gets upset? She doesn’t, Charlie is super super excited to have another sibling and when she hears the news she cries much like her father. So now you have your husband and stepdaughter sobbing in each other’s arms.

-🍎 Charlie convinces you both to do a baby shower/gender reveal party at the hotel. Vaggie makes sure to keep the troublemakers Angel and Alastor at bay. Lucifer the whole time is making sure you're alright and comfortable while also crying at the tiny baby booties.

You smiled at your husband who was walking back with a glass of water for you, “Are you okay? Do you need anything else, Darling?” He whispered out sitting next to you, making you smile and shake your head. “I’m fine, Luci..go enjoy the baby shower Charlie set up for us..” You whispered out watching as he pouted at the thought of leaving you his very pregnant spouse.

-🍎 Idk why but my brain just wants Lucifer to have twins so bam- he’s gonna have twins now. Poor man had to let his brain reset for a hot minute cause now he’s gonna have double the babies. He will cry so please hug him close again.

-🍎 Oh boy oh boy when you go into labor? He is the best person to go to, he’ll let you scream and curse at him while he comforts you and gives you little kisses between praises. Wiping the sweat and tears from your face while allowing you to squeeze his hand.

-🍎 When he holds the twins? He cries most definitely and promises to do everything he can to make his babies happy.

-🍎 Another man who doesn’t care what the gender of his babies are, if they are healthy and happy he is happy. The possibilities here for names are endless. The babies most definitely get his blonde hair and rosy red cheeks.

-🍎 Now having twins gives him the opportunity to be like, “Not only do I have one cute baby, I have TWO” and proceeds to turn around to show the other baby happily sleeping in a baby sling. You always laugh cause why is your husband so cute?

-🍎 You both need a break or want to go out on a date and can’t get a babysitter? Not to worry Big Sis Charlie is to the rescue with Vaggie and the rest of the crew!

“Are you sure Charlie? We can find someone else if you're too busy.” You asked, feeling horrible but Charlie happily waved off your concern, “Nonsense! I’d love nothing more than to look after my siblings as you and dad go take some well needed rest!” She hummed, glancing over at Vaggie who was happily holding one of the sleeping twins and Lucifer glaring at Alastor who was watching from afar. “Okay, if you're sure..If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” You replied watching as your other baby happily chomped on your husband’s finger with the amount of confidence only babies seem to have.

-🍎 Overall, Lucifer’s parenting style is great! He’s a little anxious but who isn’t when dealing with babies, he’ll mess up sure but once again lead him in the right direction and he’ll be fine. I’d give him a 9/10 here. Minus one point because of the dad jokes mixing with the duck jokes (but that’s what we love about him no? It’s mostly the dad jokes.)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #gn reader #alastor x gn!reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x gn!reader

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 5 months

Note

Genshin girls: Dehya, noelle, Eula, Shenhe, Kujou Sara. Ayaka And Yae Miko

Reacting to S/O’s mom leaning close to S/O and not so quietly asking when she should she expect grandchildren

(Genshin Impact) Dehya, Noelle, Eula, Shenhe, Sara, Ayaka, and Yae being asked THAT question by S/O's parents

(Source: Yuushibadesu on twitter)

Dehya laughed at the question and S/O's reaction, as they hurriedly tried to shush their mother.

(Dehya) "Hm...I'll just get back to you on that one!"

However, she does start thinking about it after the dinner.

Kids? She had so much to do to truly live up to the legend of the Lion, and having a kid was not on the agenda.

Dehya isn't sure she's ready for kids anytime soon, or if she would ever be. But, always time later to think about that, right?

(Noelle) "Kids?!"

Noelle is way too young to be thinking about that!

She's just as flustered as S/O, watching the mother only laugh at their reactions.

(Noelle) "I'm far too busy, ma'am! I have to be accepted into the Knights of Favonius, and then there'll be so much to do afterwards!"

It's a topic she shoves into the back of her mind. Kids are the furthest thing from her agenda of things to do.

...Well, at least S/O's mother approved of her.

Eula almost chokes on her food upon hearing the question.

(Eula) "A-Ah...kids?"

She tries to recollect herself and clears her throat.

(Eula) "I am glad you approve of me that much, ma'am but...Kids are not in my foreseeable future. I have many responsibilities to attend to as a Knight of Favonius."

Though honestly, she's using her position as an excuse not to talk about it.

First she'd have to get the approval of Mondstadt so her kid wouldn't get bullied, which would be impossible.

But, the hurdle of the parents approving of her was passed it seemed.

(Shenhe) "Grandchildren?"

Funnily enough, Cloud Retainer had asked the same thing when Shenhe brought S/O to meet her.

And she still has the same answer.

(Shenhe) "I do not know."

She's not entirely opposed, but not in favor either.

Before anything else, Shenhe wants to feel emotions without the red string inhibiting her violent impulses.

Kids can come later.

That does not stop S/O's mother, or Cloud Retainer from asking constantly, however.

Sara completely halts when she processes what S/O's mother had said.

(Sara) "G-Grandchildren...?!"

Her professional air is shattered for the briefest moment before responding.

(Sara) "Until Inazuma is fully stabilized, I'm afraid children is out of the question. I would like them to be raised when we can all rest easy, ma'am."

Sara is a little flustered, but she meant what she said.

Until everyone's safe, there can be no rest.

...She did wonder how much of her Youkai blood would be part of their child, however.

Ayaka spits out her drink and coughs violently, being completely taken off guard.

(Ayaka) "A-Ah, please forgive the mess!" COUGH "i-I was not ready for such a question!"

Ayaka apologizes profusely while her cheeks did their best impression of a tomato.

She barely had time for herself, let alone S/O! The last thing she wanted to do was neglect their own child!

For now? Kids are absolutely out of the question.

(Yae) "Hm, that is a rather good question S/O. When are we having kids?"

Yae gives a dangerous and teasing smile to S/O, tilting her head and enjoying the reaction of their pride dying on the inside.

In all fairness, Yae doesn't particularly care for children at this very moment.

It would add excitement to her life to be sure, but there were...more serious matters when it came to that question.

Such as Yae herself outliving S/O. Would their child live as long as her, or would she outlive them too?

Regardless, that was not the topic to bring up at a family dinner, so she lets those thoughts go unsaid.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #dehya x reader #noelle genshin impact x reader #eula x reader #shenhe x reader #kujou sara x reader #ayaka kamisato x reader #yae miko x reader #dehya genshin #noelle genshin impact #eula lawrence #shenhe genshin impact #sara kujou x reader #ayaka kamisato #yae miko

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cherryjuiceblues · 4 months

Text

𝐘/𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒

➯ A VANILLA LIME EXTRA. ✰ demon!harry valentine’s day fluff. sexual content. mild degradation. mocking and teasing. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 3.4k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Y/N blinks in a way that she can only assume demonstrates befuddlement. She turns around half-expecting Harry to shove something less than pleasant in her direction. Flick her nose or smack her arse. But he stands rather sheepishly before her, hand hidden behind his back and a hint of a redness spattered around his cheeks despite the harsh line of his mouth.

She frowns, “What’s this? What did you say?”

“It’s February 14th,” he states, surveying Y/N as if to make sure she reacts in a way that doesn’t catch him off guard. When she raises his eyebrows, silently expectant that he explain himself, Harry presents the object behind his back. He’d procured it only minutes before.

“It’s—”

“—a bouquet.”

Y/N bites her lip to curb a teasing smile—although she feels the pleasant warmth filling her chest unreservedly—stopping herself from saying I can see that. “Starting to like these human holidays, huh?” reaching for the flowers without hesitation, quick to melt in front of him contrary to the front she likes to display.

He plays dumb. “Holiday? Is a holiday obligatory to be able to give your girlfriend flowers?” He slings a cocky arm around her shoulder, now that his offering has been met with obvious tenderness, and presses a kiss into the side of her head. “Something about this Valentine’s made me want to celebrate it… can’t think what.”

A giddy giggle bubbles from Y/N’s throat, “Okay, softie,” she smiles, only slightly startled by the realisation that— “I didn’t get you anything,” looking up at him with apologetic eyes widened in adoration.

“Oh, well I’ll have these back then.” Harry’s paws hardly have to uncurl to make space for the stems, blindly reaching from over the curve of her shoulder.

“Ah! No!” Y/N shrieks, pulling them away from his thieving fingers. Her body is no match for the strength of his but she tries her hardest. “They’re mine now, you can’t have them back.”

“I could kill them,” his eyes darken around the edges as he threatens to curl the edges of the petals and turn them a sorry wilted colour.

“You wouldn’t dare.” And she’s right. No, he wouldn’t.

Their morning is no different to any other—aside from the blooming petals decorating Y/N’s kitchen table, and she’s certain Harry keeps leaving new flowers inside the vase. She’s half worried she’ll blink for a moment and her entire bedroom will be filled with an assortment of foliage; she’d be able to open a garden centre from the comfort of her own home.

Harry has seemed a little softer lately but Y/N would never say anything—worried he might amp up the bullying in an embarrassed retaliation. It’s not as if she doesn’t love the way he plays with her, but it is undeniable that seeing her demon becoming sappy and fuzzy around the edges makes her heart all mushy just the same.

It makes her think back to a different time—when she pretended to hate the way he made her feel, and Harry relished in the grumpy outbursts he elicited. It’s why when he asks her, “Is there anything you want to do today?” that Y/N thinks—yes, yes there is.

“Can we— I was wondering…” It’s not scary to ask but…

A smile tugs at the corner of the demon’s lips, “Mhm…”

Only through fear of embarrassment does she stutter, “Would you like to… I don’t know— I was just kind of thinking it might be nice to go and see the cottage.”

Harry tilts his head for a moment, like a patiently awaiting dog that’s heard their owner ask them if they want a treat. And once it registers, he doesn’t react the way Y/N expects. He frowns, trips over his own words like he’s sure he’s misheard her. “Are you— Really?”

“What? Is that bad?”

“It’s just— well, no. I’d have thought that place would haunt your nightmares or something.”

Oh. That’s… that’s unexpectedly thoughtful and overwhelmingly distressing all at once. “You really think that?” Did he? Was it a regular worry of his? Does he look back upon a moment in time that Y/N cherishes but see it through glasses tinted with the overcast of a grey sky.

“I don’t know… maybe.”

Y/N’s eyebrows dip slightly—sadly, “Oh, Harry—”

He cuts her off before those pitiful eyes pierce through the skin over his chest, “—Okay, Bambi.”

But she’s determined now—to make new memories and relive old ones. “I love that little cottage. Can we go back? Only if you want to.”

“Of course, I want to. I want what you want.”

The saccharine timbre of his voice soaks into the flesh of her cheeks—warm and buzzing—and it’s hard not to bite her lip as she starts to get excited. “So we can go?”

Harry smooths a palm over the top of her head, mussing the hair there just so he can watch her fix it, mumbling out a soft, “Yeah, we can go, sweetheart.”

It’s like nothing has changed.

Y/N and Harry appear at the doorstep and it’s as if the cottage has been sealed inside a bubble—unaffected by the hands of time. She supposes it is entirely possible that time does move differently here; it is glistening with magic after all.

She can see the ghost of herself storming off, tripping over a rogue root and being cushioned by the wrap of Harry’s body. She can see the side of the cottage peeking out, its pathway yearning for footfalls, the lake rippling underneath the canopy of the magical willow tree and the memory of their first kiss emanates a glow. A sense of calm washes over her—her home away from home—a part of herself connected to this place in the same way she is to Harry.

As soon as her counterpart opens the door, Y/N is barging her way inside, desperate to see that everything on the interior is just the same as the exterior. It’s like falling headfirst into a memory, and once she’s given a head start, her feet carry her away in a rushed and giddy sprint. Harry doesn’t use any magic, he follows her slowly, lets her run whilst he calmly walks, and still makes it to the bedroom only a few seconds after she’s arrived.

He watches with an amused smile as Y/N jumps onto the bed, Harry’s bed—the one he’d slept in when they’d stayed here all that time ago. Watches as she inhales less than subtly and nuzzles her face into the sheets when she happily finds that they still smell of him. He watches but not for long because his automatic reaction is to gravitate towards her, climb up onto the end of the bed and flatten his body out on top of hers.

She lets out a girlish grunt from the weight, squawking in a pitchy cacophony, “Urgh! Heavy.”

A mere grumble is all she is returned with—full of fake disdain as he lets his limbs relax—“Don’t hurt my feelings.”

“No, no, ‘m not. Heavy and strong. Big and strong.”

They can feel each other’s ribs expanding with each breath; Y/N’s lagging some with the weight but not enough to warrant disrupting the sudden peace.

“Good.”

A silence falls upon them, only occasionally interrupted by inane thoughts spoken aloud. Y/N thinks she can somehow push herself further into the mattress when she sighs out, “Love this bed.”

And Harry, sleepy but not quite as much as her—demonstrated so brazenly as he quirks a smile into Y/N’s hair. “Yeah? Love the way I fucked you in it.”

There’s something so dry and cut-throat about the way drowsiness makes her sound, “You didn’t even stick it in.”

Admonished, Harry snorts, “Stick it in? Where is your decorum, Bambi? We should change that, hm?”

“Later,” she sighs, indeed melting further into the bed with a dreamy noise.

Harry kisses her cheek, shifting his weight off of her so that he can tug her body into his side instead. “Y’tired?”

“A little. I wanted to do something though.”

“What’s that?”

“S’ a surprise,” words slurring—tangling together in the haze of her dwindling consciousness.

They sleep for a while—thirty minutes, an hour, maybe—Y/N loses track of the time in this place but it’s never been less of a problem. Everything is the way it is meant to be when they’re here. And when the pair uncurl from around one another Y/N mewls in delight as the memory of their destination washes over her once more. It fuels her with bubbling energy, body twitching to burn it off but Harry doesn’t release her waist the way she hopes for—his sleepy brain unguarded in its blatant likeness to someone’s old, grumpy cat that hisses in distaste if ever awoken.

Y/N tries to slip out from beneath his ironclad grasp but she’s met with a grumble, low like the distant hum of an engine. “Let me out.” It’s a meek request—not the most persuasive she’s ever sounded in her life—almost as if… perhaps… she doesn’t really want to leave the warmth of Harry’s body and the smell of his soft clothes.

“Stop talking.”

“Come to the kitchen with me.” Her voice whispers like they’re not the only two people to be existing for miles upon miles.

And that’s how she lures him into baking an attempt at coquettishly shaped cookies—hearts (that Harry is less than impressed with, “Not even your heart is shaped like that, Bambi.”) and bows, flowers and bunnies—with a palette of pinks to smother their tops in. Y/N is so delighted in her mischief, watching Harry like a hawk to gauge his miffed reactions, although deep down, both of them are aware of a level of playful annoyance. Their penchant for getting on each other’s nerves only fuels the gears of their affections for one another.

“I could just… y’know, give you some cookies—we don’t need to go through the whole process.”

Y/N thinks he’s just grumpy for the sake of it—grumpy and old. Like a cat. “That defeats the whole point, Harry. It’s fun! Aren’t you having fun with me?” She widens her eyes, purposefully big to tug on those demonic heartstrings of his.

He only frowns, nose crinkling ever so slightly to indicate he sees right through her. But whether he does or not never makes much of a difference. “Yeah, no. Of course. Of course, I’m having fun,” he raps his knuckles on the table impatiently, “I love…” drumming out an annoying rhythm, “...spending my finite time on this planet waiting for tiny, wee biscuits to bake that’ll take me five seconds to inhale.”

He thinks it’s funny because he’s immortal. Y/N doesn’t laugh. “You’re such an old fart, oh my god.”

Harry hums, unperturbed by the slight mockery she makes of him as he slinks his arms around her middle and mumbles into her neck, “A certain little human lady is teaching me bad habits.”

“What does Mr. Impatient want to do whilst we wait?”

“I can think of something…” fingers teasing at the bottom of her soft cotton t-shirt, slender digits dancing along the line of skin he discovers.

“Of course you can,” she rolls her eyes to herself, trying to dampen the smile that dictates the shape of her mouth. “That’s for later, Harry.”

“Huh?” She’s inclined to believe that he’s drunk on her already—from a brush against her midriff. His warm body presses against her back and Y/N is nearly convinced to lean into his embrace and encourage his hands to explore across her front.

“You can’t seduce me.”

“Think that’s what I’m doing right now.”

“I won’t let these cookies burn because of you.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere—you can keep an eye on them the whole time… I don’t need to take your clothes off to make you cum.”

He nearly gets her. So very nearly. Made obvious by the lag in her reply and the catch of her breath that only someone like Harry could possibly hear. But Y/N wins for now, painfully stubborn as she pushes her head back to lean on his shoulder whilst simultaneously denying him. “No, you can wait.”

Harry makes sure she pays for her questionable prioritisation.

“You made me wait. Now it’s your turn, isn’t it?” His lips curve upwards into a satisfied grin as he undresses her—after a gently firm shove to push her to the bed—cruel to do as such whilst he promises not to touch her. “Oh? What’s this? Got all dressed up for me, did you?”

“No,” she grumbles. “S’for my other boyfriend.” The white lace shudders against her ribs as Y/N exhales shortly; the air punched from her lungs as Harry traces the pads of his fingertips along each bump. She resists squirming.

“Mm, that is such a shame. He won’t get to see it,” Harry juts his bottom lip out in a condescending pout. “But seeing as I’m here to admire… let’s make a few changes, shall we?” Y/N has no time to agree or disagree—to even ponder upon the question for a moment before the colour of her skimpy lingerie transforms before her eyes.

Angelic white swirls into midnight black, blossoming from the centre of her chest and swirling outwards to swallow all traces of innocence. Y/N lets out an astonished gasp—never quite expectant of Harry’s free use of magic. It seems her innately human vessel will never grasp the ease in which he procures objects, feelings—moods and senses alike.

“I liked the white,” she huffs, unable to appropriately convey her frustrations when she knows, really, that nothing Harry does is irreversible. Everything is impermanent when you can wield magic. Well… nearly everything.

“Something darker… is a little more fitting, don’t you think?”

Y/N didn’t assume that this Valentine’s would necessarily end in a passionate romp between her and Harry—she knows that the holiday is sort of an excuse for partners to have sex but… they’ve never needed one before. However, had it been playing on her mind, she’s not sure she would’ve had edging on the cards for this romantic date.

No one is to blame but Y/N for being so careless in her thought process—because it’s Harry. And Harry is cruel—cruel yet sentimental in the strangest of ways.

“You remember what happened in this bed, don’t you, Bambi?”

Yes. Yes, she remembers all too well. How could a person ever possibly forget such a night? He tortured her. It was blissful delirium.

She’d tried to beg, she really had, hoping that maybe a surrender may win him over but—no matter how much his sharp edges have become smooth curves—he is still a demon, and the prospect of squeezing tears from the corners of her eyes was too much to surpass.

That was nearly an hour ago, and Y/N is at her breaking point.

“Listen. Listen to me. Hands—” he shoves them roughly above her head, “—up.” Y/N doesn’t want to listen to him. Harry has been all lewd strokes and overexaggerated groans for at least fifteen minutes… his fingers coated in the remnants of her arousal—and her resolve is weak. She wants to touch him; caress the ruddy head that beads with precum, that slicks down his shaft and makes him shine. Her mouth waters for it and her arms struggle to stretch out. “Yeah—yeah, keep trying, keep trying baby. You’re so fucking crazy for it. Such a desperate little thing, hm?”

Frustration bubbles in her throat, sliced in half by a whimper—pathetic and needy. “Not again, don’t do this again, Harry.” Her cunt pulsates, the gusset of her newly dyed panties soaked through. He hasn’t even ghosted a breath over her warmth. She throbs with the memory of the first time he’d done this—made her cum with a few thuds and glides against her clit. He would be evil to do that again.

Harry twists his wrist on every stroke, humming out a feigned agreement, “Okay, alright. What should I do instead?” Y/N knows it matters little what she says, but she doesn’t even part her lips before he continues squeezing himself to the sound of his own voice.

“You want me to touch that pretty pussy, do you?” Y/N nods anyway—despite everything. Harry pouts, “Oh, why’s that? S’all achy?”

“Please, Harry,” her words topple out in a sigh. She doesn’t want to whine, she wants to hold out and appear completely unaffected by everything that he does but— “Please?”

“My girl’s all helpless f’me. Helpless and wet, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” she’s reduced to a whisper as Harry leans down, crowding her space with his broad body. The promise of his silky skin hangs above her, imprisoned in the palm of his hand. Her eyes trail down his front unashamedly, silently wanting.

He smothers her lips with his own and they taste like sugar. Sugary sweet from the cookies he’d moaned lavishly over; only half a performance, the other half satisfied to have waited for them to bake after all.

But now, Harry doesn’t think of confectionery—not in any sort of edible form anyway. Or in the traditional sense, at least. Right now, Harry licks all the flavour from Y/N’s mouth. He’s messy and he’s unhurried, sliding a palm up to curl around her patiently awaiting hands—locked up in her own embrace above her head. Their digits entwine with one another and all lingering thoughts, had there been any to begin with, just drift away.

Y/N barely registers the rip between her thighs as Harry tears at the seams of her underwear without even a hitch of his motions. Her gasp is delayed—only permitted when the demon pulls back an inch to allow her a short inhale—and then all she can do is whine into his mouth as the familiar teasing pressure buds at her entrance.

It’s unlike Harry not to draw out every drag and watch the sensitivity wash over Y/N’s face. It’s unlike him but Y/N can’t say she dislikes the snap of his hips against hers and the force in which his body nudges her up the bed. Sounds are forced from her lungs like angry fists to a punching bag, eyes wide open and tied to the magnetism of Harry’s own—a mirror image of two mouths dropped open in dumb pleasure.

“Cum around me,” he pants through short shuffles to frame his forearms on either side of her head as he cups the top of her scalp in an overwhelming desire to carry the weight of her. “Cum around me, baby. Let me feel you.”

And it’s hardly a chore. Not when her insides were already tightening, teetering on the edge as if waiting for those words of permission, his blessing, his yearning. Eyes roll back and knees jerk, souls reach out to wisp and curl around one another if just for a second, as Y/N pulls Harry along with her and over the edge.

They’re a harmony of ecstasy, a single soul comprised of two vessels—as their blood rushes through their veins and thrums underneath the surface of their warm skin. Harry settles on top of her, nestled snugly inside like there could never possibly be another option. They won’t be finished for the evening; that goes without saying.

He fusses over individual strands of her hair, smoothing them down and silently ridiculing the sweat that misplaced them. Y/N breaths quietly beneath him, eyelids fluttering closed in an unmistakable image of a happy fatigue. She speaks in sleepy murmurs, lips heavy to move but she tries her best. “You know you don’t have to celebrate human holidays just for me, right?”

Harry’s hum vibrates through her chest, “I know… but I heard a rumour that they’re not so bad,” he dips down to her ear, making her squeal and tilt her head to try and hide in her neck, “if it means seeing you so happy.”

”You’re such a romantic,” it’s meant to be teasing but as she forces her eyes open, they practically cast out holographic hearts. Y/N won’t admit it but, she’s always wished to redefine Valentine’s day—to spend it with someone who actually matters, who won’t make her resent each year that it comes around, to celebrate each other with tried and true simplicity.

She thinks they’d meet in another life—without all the magic—her and Harry. It’s a feeling so strong when she looks into his eyes, a feeling that makes it feel possible to will things into existence just by dreaming about them hard enough.

And Harry always seems to understand, as if he might be doing the same, as he dips down to whisper into her parted lips, “I spent a long time yearning for a companion like you, my little love. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#harry styles #vanilla lime #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #writing #demonrry #demon!harry

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lightlycareless · 5 months

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Hiii, can i request a scenario on how naoya (when he has reached a point where he loves wife!reader from an arranged marriage) would react to one day not being greeted at all when he comes home? It is completely silent, no response as he calls for her and is getting a bit worried as he starts searching the rooms. But then he sees her laying on the couch, shivering and sweating from a cold that’s so intense she’s barely lucid and can’t even tell he’s there and talking to her

Heya!!

So... I took some liberties when writing this, kind of went a completely different route (the sick part, alongside worried Naoya still remains though), it just occurred to me when reading your ask, but I hope it's still of your liking 🥺!!!

anyways, here are the warnings: mentions of death, miscarriage, a very concerned and overprotective Naoya, a bit of fluff, and everyone wants to spoil you rotten lol.

And without further ado, happy reading!

“Y/N, I’m home!”

Home.

A word he never really cared for, always considering it sappy, alongside the fondness that was usually assigned to it, which Naoya couldn’t think of as nothing but ridiculous, if not hilariously overrated.

For many years, Naoya thought that a home was simply the place that one was raised in and that’s about it. Nothing of the sentimentality others liked to apply to it, brag about it…

Until, of course, he finally came to understand what the word meant; why it was so special, and why it was important to have one.

A home wasn’t made by the people he knew as family, blood related, found in the place he was forced to be in since he was born, and probably die in—no; it’s the one that was made by the people of his choice, people he met through his course of life, connected with, and now, cherished.

Amongst them, you.

He considered himself lucky to have found the love of his life, a concept he considered so… foreign, impossible for someone like him, if not a stupidity of delusional people desiring more from life.

So was Naoya destined to think for the rest of his existence, condemned by his same family to live a life of loneliness, hatred, and die the same way.

But you’d come to show him otherwise, shockingly, and unexpectedly, and in such a way he couldn’t even put up a fight, completely surrendering to you and the wonderful feelings that being in love with you provided.

Now that he’s experienced them, he couldn’t find the reason as to why his family would ever reproach such beautiful thing as harshly as they did—or that he believed them in the first place…

Well, that’s not something that bothers him anymore; the Zen’in clan could continue on in their hard stuck ways for all he cared; he, on the other hand, plans to spend the rest of his days alongside the woman of his dreams, starting by today, finally back in your arms after days of being pulled into pointless missions after pointless missions, which he would not hear of for a few weeks—having earned a well-deserved break for his consistently good performance.

Naoya even prepared accordingly for the occasion, having bought gifts from all the places he’d been to, as well as ideated ways to distract you from the boring estate and his nagging relatives he knows you don’t enjoy being around with, only tolerating them because they were, well, your in-laws, his family—with exceptions of those you do get along, and for them, he’s grateful that they do.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to see you, your face, and the adorable way it brightens up whenever receiving him.

To tell you of his day while resting his head on your lap, with you passing your fingers through his hair, gently soothing his stresses away as you reassure him that he’s the best sorcerer out there, he’s just… unlucky to bump into lesser talented ones.

Get something to eat too, he’d like his favorite for a start, miso soup—and perhaps have you feed it to him? God, it’s been a while since both have done that, and it’s not because he doesn’t like doing it, or you for that matter, but rather, he doesn’t want to risk being seen by others, it has to be in the utmost privacy, after all! He isn’t to be vulnerable in front of his family!!

Oh, he needs wishes to see you—right now. And he’s absolutely sure you’re feeling the same way…

If so… why hadn’t you responded? Why hadn’t you come to receive him in the same manner you’ve always done?

Naoya knows that his schedule can be a bit… unpredictable, making it difficult for you to know exactly when he’ll come back home—but even then, it didn’t take you that long to meet him after announcing his return.

You’d always come to the entrance, no matter if it happened right that moment, or a bit later; you just… did.

But today… it seems that you opted to break the routine by taking far longer than you usually do.

He’d remain attentive to his surroundings, hoping to either hear your approaching footsteps or voice softly calling for him at a distance, yet as time went on, he was received with neither…. And Naoya only begins to grow more worried.

Your husband tries to not jump to the worst conclusion just yet, opting to think that you were perhaps simply caught up tending to the house, maybe even partaking in an unwanted conversation with one of his relatives and having trouble brushing them off—for no matter the times you’d reminded them that your husband was back, and you needed to be there to receive him, still acted as if it wasn’t that important.

Things that implied that even when running late, you were still ok.

Yet…

“Y/N!” Naoya calls once again, hoping for a change…

…

Silence.

It’s by this time that he decides it’s better to search for you than to stand around and wait for you to magically appear.

Naoya begins by going into the main wing, eyes scanning through the gardens, your usual place of leisure when not busy, where you’d calmly enjoy the diligently tended for flowers (the ones he had changed to your favorite as soon as he found out which ones they were) while snacking on something, or in the company of your loyal staff—if that were the case of your absence, he understood why you didn’t answer.

But he wouldn’t find you near any of the gardens, or anywhere in fact! A statement that weighed even heavier upon finding out that the staff was in the same predicament as him, for when he asked a nearby servant of your whereabouts, he was received with the following answer:

“We haven’t seen her” Naoya’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” he breathes. “Where could my wife—did she—did she leave the estate?”

No. You… didn’t. Because that’s not what you told him you’d be doing a few hours ago, after letting you know he was on his way back home; if anything, you replied with how excited you were to see him again and that you’d be eagerly waiting for him!

So obviously, their words didn’t make sense. But if so… where were you?

Naoya now frantically searched for you through every wing, room, space, chamber, closet, just— anywhere, literally anywhere you could be while repeatedly calling out your name in hopes of getting a response, or even a glimpse of you; he doesn’t care what at that point, he’s happy with either!

Yet, the longer he went on without an answer, the bigger his sorrow became, to the point where his mind was machinating nothing but the worst-case scenarios, slowly losing his inhibitions as he repeatedly wondered Where were you? How come no one has seen you? Did he have to escalate this situation?

Just—Where are you, Y/N?!

Thankfully, there would be no need to pursue bigger solutions for he’d get his answer soon enough after entering the east wing, passing through the living quarters, and arriving to the laundry room, one of the last places he’d thought you’d be—rightfully guessing so, for you were there, apparently washing whatever garments you had pending, which you hadn’t been able to wash due to a variety of unknown reasons…

But far from feeling elated to have found you, Naoya felt as if whatever he had left of his heart was effectively broken, which felt short compared to the way he found you.

“Y/N!”

The sight that received him is one that will remain imprinted in the back of mind: you were laying on the floor, on your side, tightly clutching to your stomach as you breathed heavily, eyes tightly shut while groaning in what Naoya could only interpret as pain.

As if his worries weren’t through the roof at that point, this last conclusion is what urged Naoya to hastily make way to your side, swiftly kneeling to your level as he calls out for you once more.

“Y/N—Y/N” He’d breathe, firmly yet carefully placing his hands over you with intentions of picking you up, but his hold falters when his fingers briefly graze your skin, making him gasp in return. “Y/N you’re—you’re burning!”

This would be the only time you’d respond to him, barely able to move your head onto his direction, slightly opening your eyes to see him, a gaze that shows how much pain you were going through, barely able to understand what was going on, except for gently breathing the word that makes his heart squeeze out in pain.

“Na—Naoya…”

Any hesitation is effectively thrown out the window by that point, picking you up and rushing you towards their shared bedroom, all while barking orders to the nearby staff, demanding them to call for a doctor, as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be jobless by the end of the day!

The staff reacts accordingly, and a few minutes later, the family doctor arrives to the estate, guided to your room and seeing that you were already being tended to, or at least that’s the idea he gets from the dampened towel on your forehead, undoubtedly in efforts of lowering your fever—which unfortunately, had been for nothing.

Well, he was there now, and he didn’t waste time either to get to work, quickly assessing your condition by the apparent symptoms, starting by your temperature, the color of your skin, and even the way you reacted to him while doing so, completely uncooperative—apparently, whatever put you in this state had evoked great instability from you, thus the doctor found it necessary to put you under sedatives.

But even when he was able to quickly gain control of the situation, the doctor still couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion, less when the people around you had an even smaller idea of what struck you.

“I—I don’t know.” Naoya would respond, angrily, frustrated—and rightfully so. How come none of the servants had noticed your absence? Or worse, hadn’t seen anything that could hint as to what your sickness was about?! “Can’t you just—help her?!”

“That’s what I’m trying—I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” The doctor responded as calmly as he could, but even he had to admit that everyone’s seeming ignorance annoyed him as well. “But I can still say that this seems much more than just a simple… sickness.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowns, the doctor looks at the nearby servants, tasked to be on stand-by if needed.

“I’d like to discuss this in private.” He tells them.

The servants don’t wait for Naoya to repeat the order before they’re already out the room and away from their earshot; a request that while didn’t raise any concerns from Naoya —if anything, he was glad their pesky, useless presence, was finally away from you— the doctor’s face was quick to convince your husband that something far worse than what met the eye.

And this made Naoya’s nerves reach a new limit.

“I told you; I don’t know what happened—” Your husband is quick to defend, believing the doctor was to interrogate him once more, only to be interrupted.

“You don’t need to tell me for me to know what happened.” He interjects, Naoya’s eyes widen.

“I’m lost.” Naoya scowls. “Stop talking cryptically and get on with it!”

“I’ve seen these symptoms before, Naoya. And as I said, these are not from a simple sickness, an allergy or any of the matter” He takes a deep breath. “I heavily suspect she was intoxicated—and not accidentally, but rather, intentionally.”

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns. “I told you to stop talking in riddles, say what you—”

“Poisoned, Naoya. I believe your wife was poisoned.”

Naoya’s world comes to a screeching halt.

You…

You were poisoned.

According to the doctor, you—You were attacked, besieged, with malicious intents.

Taken advantage of in the one place you’d never be on edge, your home, the same one he had repeatedly reassured your father that you’d be safe in—the Zen’in estate, home to the prestigious Zen’in clan! There was no safer place in the whole world! There couldn’t!

No one— no one wouldn’t dare do such a thing here—they knew better! Naoya would force them to now better…

Yet, someone dared to commit this transgression against you.

And to make it all worse….

Almost got away with it.

Who would even think of doing such transgression against you?! You?!

You had no quarrels with anyone, and even when you did, you handled things in such an amicable way just so you’d live peacefully, free of nonsensical arguments—you had no space for them in your life!

And yet, this still happened, and right underneath his nose….

There’s no doubt that he’ll put an investigation into order to find the bastard responsible for your suffering, and once he does, he’ll make him regret his existence, to the point he’ll have him begging for mercy—and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Naoya.

However, that is something that will have to wait until he knows you’re safe, healthier, which the doctor had slowly began to help you with by giving you something that will immediately trap the poison from being further absorbed by your blood—activated charcoal, so he remembers— as well as some other prescriptions for side effects he wishes to prevent.

“Your wife was very lucky to survive, have you waited a second more—”

“I wasn’t waiting.” Your husband immediately responds, offended by his wording. “I wasn’t aware of this until I returned.”

The doctor presses his lips together, taking notice that throughout his whole visit, Naoya has never left your side, nor freed your hands from his.

“And I’m not surprised.” He silently admits.

Naoya hates the notion the doctor was implying, that this was an inside job. But considering the odd behavior of the staff, their seeming ignorance of your location and your status… it all pointed to that same conclusion.

The boiling fury inside him grows bigger.

“How could this be?” Naoya seethes.

How could someone get this far, this close to you, and no one suspecting a thing?

Your husband might’ve reproached the way the doctor expressed himself, but there was an undeniable truth behind them; he truly was lucky to have gotten back home just when he did, for had he taken a second longer, just one, you could’ve die—

Outside of that, the second most important question regarding this whole situation was…where was your staff? Why, of all days, were they absent?

Naoya is confident that if Mariya, your closest confidant, had been around, this would’ve never happened in the first place; the moment she saw anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve pulled all the stops and acted accordingly.

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen, and this makes Naoya both highly suspicious, and furious.

Where was she? Where are the rest? Why would they leave you in your most needed time? Did they plan this? Plot against you?! Where the hell could they possibly—

“They’re going to be away for the weekend to visit their families.”

He suddenly remembers; you told him so earlier that week through a text.

“Will you be ok?” Naoya also remembers asking; he didn’t feel happy knowing you’d be alone without your most trusted staff.

“It’s just a few days, Naoya. Besides, they deserve a break! I don’t want them to get tired of me, you know?” you laugh. “But you better come back quickly, ok? Just because they’re not around doesn’t mean I like being alone…”

“I won’t take long. I promise.”

If only he’d kept his word…

Well, if that was to be the answer to their absence, then it wasn’t fair to hold any level of animosity towards them, a weight being lifted from his burdened shoulders upon realizing your staff could strill be trusted in.

Now all that was left to worry about is finding the culprit… and the status of that too.

“Is she ok?” Naoya would ask.

“She is, I managed to—”

“No, I mean… that.” Naoya’s voice hints to a silent agreement between the two. “Is… that ok?”

The doctor quickly catches what he means, affirming so by a nod. His reassurance lifts an immeasurable weight from his heart, even greater than the alleged betrayal of Mariya and the rest. One less thing to worry about.

“What now, then?”

“Since the damage was limited, to say the least, it won’t be necessary to move her to a hospital, however—”

She’s still in danger. Naoya concludes. More so if the attack came from someone inside… And what makes him think that just because he’s back they’ll stop trying?

If anything, seeing how close they got, they could try once again!

The mere thought is enough to push him into taking what is perhaps the most radical decision he could’ve taken in this situation, something that might come to torment him in the future, but until then, he won’t care, not even a bit; not when he had your safety to worry about:

That is… Naoya fired everyone, effective immediately.

He took no heed if any of them had been serving the family for years, if they were close friends of his father, or if their livelihood would be affected— Naoya just wanted them out of his sight, the estate, and as soon as possible, less they wanted to receive more of his anger, before continuing with the rest of his plan.

Due to the gravity of said situation, Naoya knew he had to contact your family; he also knew that you would’ve refuted the idea as soon as he mentioned it to you, not wanting to worry them if you’ve truly been attacked, but he couldn’t do this to your father; not when he was amongst the few people in the world he knew had your wellbeing as utmost priority— as well as holding a great amount of respect and appreciation for him, specifically for the way he welcomed him into your family.

Eiichi, your father, had to admit that getting a call from the Zen’in estate that didn’t come from you surely surprised him beyond any comprehension, and yet, that would be nothing compared to the shock he’d get upon knowing the motive behind said call; Naoya swore he almost heard your father passing out, or at least, in the process of.

“Poisoned?!” Eiichi gasped, tightly clutching onto the phone—he might’ve as well passed out and dived into a nightmare! “Is she ok?! Where is she right now?”

“At the estate, with me—the doctor didn’t think it necessary for her to be hospitalized since he was able to stop the poison from spreading any further, but she still needs rest.”

“And the baby?” the referenced secret between Naoya and the doctor; your pregnancy.

“Fine.” He breathes, swallowing. “The doctor didn’t tell me of any damage done to the baby… but I’m—I’m still taking her to the doctor, just—just to be sure.”

“How could this happen?” Eiichi laments, heart breaking not only for you, but for Naoya as well. Your father knew all too well what it was to lose the love of his life, a pain that he would never desire on anyone, not even his own enemies…

One that he could slowly begin to hear in Naoya’s voice; oh, he could only imagine the pain he was going through, or what waited for him if he had lost not only you, but his child too.

But, well, the worst is over… at least for now.

“Someone from the staff did it.” Naoya declares, Eiichi’s heart sinks even further. “But I’ve taken care of it, I’ve fired everyone.”

And your father, contrary to Naoya’s relatives, did not question him. If anything, he seconded his decision, because had he been in your husband’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

“Was her staff involved?” Your father asks, feeling a slight… anger with the idea that the ones you greatly cherished could’ve plotted against you.

“No, they were not; in fact, they were out of the estate when all this went down.” Naoya responds. “But I know that if they had been here, this would’ve never happened in the first place.”

“Bring her here, with me.” Eiichi immediately suggested, Naoya blinks, startled by the idea, if not against it.

“Father—"

“We can take care of her while she’s recuperating, take her to the doctor too. I’ll make sure that she has everything she needs. And not to misjudge your staff, or lack of, but the people here would never hurt her—they’ve known her since she was a child! There won’t be another safer place for her to be than here, Naoya. At least… until she’s better.”

Previously, Naoya would’ve questioned the veracity of his words, done all he could to prove you were much better with him, but after this occurrence… he had to agree.

As much as it hurt him to know you’d be away from him, especially when you were pregnant… he knew this was the right decision to make. He couldn’t expose you to another similar situation—not even if he got a completely new staff… or if you didn’t want to leave.

So, Naoya accepts Eiichi’s suggestion, alongside buying him a ticket for the earliest available flight to Kyoto; a few hours later, your father would arrive to the estate, rushing to your side, keeping you company while tending to your every need as Naoya prepared everything for your departure.

When you eventually regained consciousness, you were (although a bit surprised) overwhelmingly elated to see your father visiting you, for it had been so long since you’d seen him, probably around the time you announced your pregnancy!

However, that excitement would soon diminish when Naoya told you why he was there… alongside the cryptic explanation of your “sickness.”

“It was an allergy.” Naoya would say, not wanting to stress you by the fact that you were intentionally poisoned, although that excuse did little to stop you from doing so. “Rare, but it can happen, especially with pregnant women.”

“An allergy…? But I didn’t…” you frown.

“It happened to your mother, once.” Eiichi followed Naoya’s lead. He hated lying to you, but… he concurred that keeping you safe, both mentally and physically, was worth doing so. “It’s nothing but hormonal changes, so don’t worry much about it.”

“I guess…” you frown, pressing your lips. “But that still doesn’t explain why I have to leave.”

“We need to check what caused your allergy” Naoya responds. “It might be something about the food, the flowers, or even the wood; I rather you be safe than to go through that scare again.”

“But is… all this really necessary?” Naoya gives you a tight smile and a nod. “Naoya, I—"

“It’s not all bad, Y/N.” Naoya says.

“Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your papa? It’s been so long since I’ve spent time with my adorable pumpkin!” Eiichi laments.

“Dad!” you gasp, flustered by his words. “Don’t—don’t say that in front of Naoya…”

“What? It’s true! And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I learned I’m going to be a grandfather!”

“Stop it!” your face becomes redder. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Naoya chuckles; it’s not like he’s seen you in… worse situations. Or better?

“But… I guess a visit is overdue.” You eventually concede, Naoya and your father sigh out of relief. “Though what about Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi?”

“They’ll go with you, if you want.” Naoya says; he doubts they’ll say no, especially after knowing of the whole fiasco that occurred when away, might even offer themselves before he suggests the idea.

“If I didn’t know any better, sounds like you want me gone.” You jest, Naoya frowns. “It’s a joke, of course…”

“There’s nothing more I would like than you staying here, but until we figure out what caused that reaction from you, I’d rather not risk it.”

“It’s only temporary, Y/N. Besides, look—I brought you gifts!” Eiichi says, taking out the bag he brought from home seemingly out of nowhere, filled with things he knew you’d love, such as sweets, your favorite mochi’s of course, alongside some plushies that would always brighten your day when you were a child. “And there’s much more back home…”

Naoya can’t help but feel relieved you had your father for support, but at the same time, a bit jealous and, well, threatened. Not for bad reasons, of course, it was simply because how the hell did he not think of bringing you gifts first?!

“Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of Naoya.”

“Ah, that’s a parent’s bane, isn’t it? To always embarrass their children—you’ll see what I mean when you both have your baby.”

Perhaps the main reason why you ended up agreeing to leave was because your pregnancy did not seem affected by your supposed allergy; had it been you would’ve refused to leave your husband’s side!

… Well, you still would’ve refused either way, but perhaps a bit more. You hate the idea of being away from the father of your child for too long, after all.

“I don’t think so—Naoya and I are going to be the cool parents, you’ll see.”

“That’s what your mom and I thought, and look at me now, can’t even say anything without you telling me I’m embarrassing you!” Eiichi says, you chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom was cool! You were always the funny one!”

Naoya smiles.

Now he knows for sure that there’s no safer place for you to be in than with your family, even if that were to be on the other side of the country…

After Naoya prepared everything for your departure, the three eventually made way to the exit, where you and your father would bid their last goodbyes.

“Won’t you accompany me?” you ask, a slight pout on your face, he smiles in hopes to cheer you up, but really, he felt miserable.

“I want to, but I can’t.” He explains. “I have to deal with this as fast as possible if you’re to come back quickly.”

“… Will you visit me over there, at least?” you frown.

“Yes. As soon as I have a chance, I’ll go see you.” Naoya promises.

It had all been too soon, just a few hours ago he arrived at the estate, and now, you’re leaving. Naoya laments that he couldn’t spend a day with you before your departure… but he guesses this to be a rightful sacrifice for your well-being.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping away from my wife and baby for too long.”

At those words, Eiichi couldn’t help but frown out of sorrow.

It wasn’t fair that neither of you had been able to enjoy this wonderful occasion as you should.

He still remembers the excitement in your voice, the glint in your eye, and the beaming smile on your lips when announcing your pregnancy—alongside the nerves that came with it, of course, which Eiichi eased by reminding you and Naoya that their enthusiasm was nothing but indicative they were already on their way of becoming the loving and supportive parents their baby needed.

But as excited as both were, Eiichi had to cruelly put a stop to their celebrations, especially after Naobito was made aware of this, who wished to proceed by announcing the news to the whole community.

“I have to disagree, Naobito.” Eiichi would be the first to reject the idea, much to everyone’s surprise—yours, specifically.

“And why is that?” He’d ask back, not understanding why the father of the expecting mother, of all people, would be the one to reject so.

“It’s best if Y/N keeps her pregnancy a secret, at least… until it’s undeniably noticeable.”

“But… why, dad?” you asked. This was a moment of absolute joy, to be treated as such! So why did he intend to keep it a secret? Was he… disappointed?

No. Never. He was nothing but happy to see you happy and become a grandfather himself for the first time in his life!

But as a man of his years, he’s learned to be cautious of how said blessings are to be celebrated, as well as seen his fair share of happiness turn sour… things that Eiichi would rather take upon him than allow them to ever befall you.

“Because there’s people out there that might try to hurt you—or the baby.” He’d explain. “Naobito cannot not deny this, but if anyone hears that you’re pregnant with the Zen’in heir’s baby, those that want to hurt the Zen’in clan, or our family, will see this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“I’d never allow such thing, rest assured, there’s no safer place than—” Naoya quickly interjects, wanting to reassure your father, but Eiichi was set on his warnings.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I didn’t see it myself.” Eiichi reminds him, Naoya swallows. “We live in a highly competitive world due to the nature of our families; I’ve lost my wife because of this! And I’d be damned to allow it to happen again to my daughter.”

He hated to remind you of the harsh truth; hated to see how your face would sadden, the excitement for your first child, his first grandchild, quickly disappearing…

“Why would someone do that?” you murmur, frowning.

“They wouldn’t dare—I’ll make sure of it.” Naoya hisses.

Eiichi remained silent, sad for you and your husband. Because even if you’ve experienced first-hand what it is to lose someone through these matters, both have yet to fully understand the extremes those supposedly loyal to them can go to if properly incited. Especially for someone who had so much to lose, just as the elite members of prestigious Zen’in clan.

Even then, your father would not allow such pain to reach you, not the same way it almost did to him and your mother, so, he insisted you keep these news secret from the world—and if you must, only if you must, reveal it to your most faithful ones; the rest could learn when your stomach was too big to deny.

If you do so, keep your baby hidden from the world, safe from those that harbor nothing but pain and sorrow… all will be fine. Eiichi promises so.

…

Or so, that’s what everyone hoped would’ve happened, because if there’s one thing to be learned from this incident, is that no matter how cautious you were, word of your pregnancy still managed to land in the wrong ears, and now, were actively against it.

The question no longer pertained as to how, but rather, who; who was the author of this terrible act?

The notion that someone of Naoya’s relatives, indirectly informed through Naobito’s… drunken rambles, soon crosses the minds of your father and husband. If so, it would make sense as to why they’d use an innocent staff member to do the deed, keep their hands clean of the whole situation, instead of going to bigger extremes.

It’s the most probable of the theories, but they could not annul the following: jealousy from the servants.

Naoya considered that statement to be the most delusional one your father could’ve gathered, but he’d be wise to remember how others perceive him—or more like what he represented. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that others would desire what he had, or him, in some cases. And naturally, you’re an obstacle to that goal, your baby even more so…

It wasn’t fair, but it was your reality.

Nonetheless, Eiichi and Naoya will still do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“It’s just for a few days, pumpkin.” Your father would say upon seeing the sadness in your face, which remained even when reassured that Naoya would be with you as soon as possible. “Besides, you’re going to see your brother and sister too—they’ve missed you very much, you know? They’ve been wanting to spoil you and their future niece, or nephew!”

You smile, it’s good that even when in the storm, your family is still able to exude happiness. You could only imagine how enthusiastic they’d be when the baby was finally here.

“I know… I missed them too.” You admit, before looking over to Naoya one last time. “Well… I hope that whatever is keeping you here is quickly dealt with.”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Naoya promises, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—before you know it, you’ll be back at the estate, with me.”

That’s a promise he unfortunately, doesn’t know if will become true inside the promised timeline, but will do anything in his power so it does.

Either way, it’s safe to say that Naoya did manage to keep one part of his promise—and that would be the one where he reassured you wouldn’t even notice his absence, done through sending you endless amounts of gifts, every day, effectively filling your room to the brim with all things he’d knew you’d like, and some for baby too: from clothes for you, to cute onesies he’d like his baby to wear when she was finally here.

“You still think the baby is going to be a girl?” you’d ask through one of the many videocalls he’d make—one daily, at the very least. “Wait a minute… you better not have spoiled me!”

“I just know” He reiterates with shrug; you roll your eyes. “If not, then I’ll have lots of things to return.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I also feel like our baby is going to be a girl.” You smile, warming up Naoya’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her—I just know she’s going to have your eyes!”

“Or yours, I hope.” He longs, you blush. “Have you been eating well, my love?”

“Yes; and no allergies yet.” You explain, Naoya feels relieved—at least the problem didn’t follow you there. “Maybe I was just unlucky that day, Naoya… Are you sure I can’t return to the estate yet?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re going to be safe here.” Naoya responds, and while his words are meant to be comforting, you can’t shake off the sense that something worse happened; that something far bigger than a simple allergy had struck you, specially with the way your staff and family would act around you, going as far as denying you of any information pertaining to the Zen’in.

But… if your husband had a reason to not say anything now, then the best you could do is trust him. The truth will come out eventually, you suppose. So instead you could focus on other pressing matters.

“Well, at least don’t send me too many gifts.” You continued. “While I appreciate them, between you and my father, I don’t think my house has enough room to store all the things you’ve both given me.”

“Who’s given you more things? Me or your dad?” Naoya nonchalantly asks, you gasp.

“Naoya! That’s not the—take it seriously! Control yourself with the gifts, ok?” you say, he chuckles, but ends up agreeing; at least until the topic has quieted down, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to let your father win the upper hand like that one day ever again. “Or at least save them to when I’m back at the estate… which I hope is soon.”

“Almost there.” Naoya says. “Just a few more things, and we’ll be together once again.”

… even if the answer was to be the same, you still needed to ask.

“Is… everything ok?”

Not precisely, not when he has yet to find out the one responsible for all this…

But he’s gotten a lead, an idea of where to start, of who to hunt—which he knows he’ll find in record time thanks to the fury he harbors, further motivating him to do this as quickly and precisely as possible just so he’d have you back home, with him.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He reiterates. “Just keep focusing on your health, the baby, and not doing anything strenuous.”

“I’m just pregnant, Naoya… nothing extraordinary. I still want to help around., you know?”

“I know, and you’ll be able to do that and more in due time, but for now, keep safe, for me, ok? And our little mochi.”

“When will I see you again?” you ask again, hoping that perhaps this time around, the answer will be different.

“Soon.” He promises. “Soon, my love.”

Once he deals with the bastard that hurt you.

Naoya will give them nothing but a glimpse of the sorrow and pain they’d put you through, his fury—make their life a living hell, make them regret the foolish idea that they could ever get away from it; and still, he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with his revenge.

He’d want more, he’d want everyone to know that his family are not ones to mess around with.

He’d burn the whole world to set the message across if necessary—and that would only be the bare minimum for you, the love of his life, and now, his baby…

His home.

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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cinemadaydream · 10 months

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can you do a story where conrad gets jealous because cam cameron is getting a little too touchy with y/n and she’s entertaining it. but little does he know it was all planned, y/n asked cam to do that to make conrad jealous. (they’re fwb and y/n got bored and planned this so she could see what conrad would do) well y/n ended up kissing cam and it got heated and conrad pushed them apart and took y/n upstairs to his room and made sure she wouldn’t do that again.

He's going to kill me

parings: Conrad Fisher x reader

warnings: unprotected rough smut

"If keep touching you like this, he's going to kill me." Cam glancing nervously towards Conrad before wrapping his arms around your waist.

You can't help the smirk on your face as you lean into Cam's touch, nuzzling your face against his neck before whispering in his ear. "He won't kill you, I promise. I guess that means my plan is working?"

Cam hums in response before he looks at Conrad once again from the corner of his eye, still not fully convinced. Conrad's hands were clenched tightly and the old saying "If looks could kill, you'd be dead" had never been more accurate as Conrad continues to send daggers in yours and Cams direction.

Despite Cam's fear that tonight may be his last, you can't help the way feeling of excitement that's oozing through you over Conrad's jealously. The two of you are friends with benefits, both of you agreeing to have no feelings involved, but there were moments when you wondered if there was more between you two than you both let on. Longing glances across the room, lingering touches after the two of you had finished having sex. He even asked you to stay the night on multiple occasions so he could hold you all night which was against the rules the two of you had made. Which is why once you were told Conrad was throwing a party that you'd use it to your advantage to see if your suspicions about Conrad liking you were true.

"Do you want to dance before you're impending doom?" You tease Cam playfully as you pull away from his neck to look up at him. Cam laughs at your joke before grabbing your hand and walking you both to the middle of the living room where everyone was dancing.

For the first time all night, you make eye contact with Conrad as you dance with Cam. He's still glaring at you both and now worse than ever as your ass is pressed against Cam, moving your hips against him as you both dance together. You've never seen Conrad this pissed before. It makes you breath hitch and your heart skip a beat, but you don't crack yet. Wanting to see if he would act upon what his face was showing. You can see how badly Conrad is fighting with himself. Wanting to grab you and show you who you're supposed to be with. But Conrad does the opposite. Instead of walking up to you and Cam, he starts to dance with another girl. Now you're the one pissed. The same glare Conrad had on his face is now on yours. You pull your eyes away from Conrad and the blonde you don't know the name of and look at Cam.

"Kiss me."

Cam's eyes widen a bit as you ask him to kiss you. He didn't expect you to want to go that far with this plan. He almost says no before he notices Conrad and the blonde. Cam nods and then he kisses you softly on the lips. The kiss doesn't stay soft though as you pull Cam closer to you, kissing him hard knowing Conrad is still watching. This kiss becomes heated. Although it isn't the same as all the kisses you've shared with Conrad, you're pleasantly surprised to find Cam is a quite the good kisser. You could get lost in the kiss, forgetting Conrad even if just for a short while, if it wasn't for a pair of hands pushing you and Cam apart.

"My room. Now." Conrad demands, frustration evident in the way he speaks. He doesn't even glance at Cam which is probably for the best because Cam's worries may not be so far from the truth with the amount of anger Conrad is feeling.

Your body reacts before your mind can process anything, you immediately head to the staircase and walk up the stairs into his room that you've been in so many times before. You can hear him shut the door before locking it and then you feel him, shoving you down on his bed before climbing on top of you.

"What the fuck was that bullshit?" Conrad asks, his breath hot and heavy against your neck as his fingers trail under your dress. You think he's about to touch you where you've been aching for him to touch all night, but he surprises you when he flips you over onto your stomach and slaps your ass roughly making you shriek in both pleasure and pain. "What makes you think you can bring someone into my house and dance with him like that?" Another harsh slap lands on your ass. "To kiss him with the same lips you use to suck my cock?"

Your eyes widen when he says that, but you don't say anything. You feel him slap your ass once more before he slides his hand under his dress and takes off your underwear in one quick, swift movement. Your breath is uneven as you hear him undo the zipper of his pants and then he slides himself into you. You moan loudly as he starts to move inside you.

"Did you wear this dress for him?" Conrad asks, his thrust quickening as he slaps your ass again before he yanks down one of the straps to your dress and squeezes your tit before flicking your nipple with his finger.

"N-no! I wore it.. I wore it for you." You moan out before burying your face against his pillow. He seems pleased with your response, but he doesn't let you bury your face in his pillow. Instead, he grabs you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he continues to thrust inside of you.

"And you're going to cum for me in it too, sweet girl. Gonna let this whole god damn party hear you, let them know who's fucking you this good" Conrad groans into your ear before kissing your neck, leaving a trail of love bites all over it. Needing to mark you up more than he's ever needed it before.

And just like he wants from you, you start to moan his name. You do it louder and louder with each thrust he gives you. His pace is so fast, so rough that the only thing keeping you up is his arms that are still wrapped firmly around you, wanting you to feel every inch of him.

"That's right, baby. I'm the one making you feel this good. Not fucking Cam Cameron." Conrad smirks against your neck as his free hand cups your face, pulling you into a passionate, needy kiss. His tongue exploring your mouth as you cum all over him. You cry out in pleasure as he keeps going, sensitive from the orgasm he just gave you before he finally cums deep inside you.

Conrad gently releases you, letting you rest against his pillow now before he pulls out of you and holds you in his arms. He kisses you again but this time it isn't rough. It's soft and sweet with a hint of desperation behind it. All he wants is you. Fuck the rules you two made.

"Are you okay? I wasn't too rough on you, was I?" Conrad asks, his voice much softer now as he strokes your hair with his fingers. You smile and shake your head before you kiss him once more.

"I liked how rough you were, Con." you say blushing. Your ass was sore and you could still feel yourself coming down from the orgasm he gave you and you absolutely loved it. Loved that it was him that did it.

"I don't want to ever see you with another guy that isn't me." Conrad admits staring so intently at you. Your heart flutters and you nod your head. You feel his arms pull you even closer as he waits, still nervous that you'll reject him. It's a fear he's had the moment you two started being friends with benefits. He had always liked you.

"And I don't want to be with any guy that isn't you." You smile at Conrad as you watch his worries fade away before he pulls you in for another kiss. He cups your face, holding you close to his body. You kiss him happy that your plan had worked and that he's finally yours.

"I'm going to kill Cam by the way." Conrad says as you two pull away. His lips are still against yours and you can't help but to laugh when he says this.

"It's okay, he's expecting it."

The way i wrote this in less than an hour lmao sorry if there's any errors, I haven't proofread it yet!

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #conrad fisher smut #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x y/n #team conrad

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