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undercoverpena · 8 months

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home and the ghost mug

simon “ghost” riley x reader (cod)

this is unedited, and born from a random thought as I put away dishes and cleaned my kitchen at 1am. warnings: none. themes: fluff, cute mug moment, ghost and a non-military partner. just toothrotting 1am thoughts.

you don’t like to think you live alone, but you know you spend more time waiting, than you have with him.

this time it’s been months. the last contact weeks ago. it’s normal, but it doesn’t lessen the frustration you feel—or how it balls and clumps with worry.

you know you signed on to this. married yourself to the wondering and standing by when you bought the house with him. it’s why you’ve perfected the art of keeping busy, remaining distracted.

today, your mind slips. falls down on the job, scrapes the skin from your knees and bruises your heart. thoughts appearing, the faint sound of his gruff voice echoing in the walls. unable to unsee the shadow of his last time here—how broad he appears in your door frames.

it’s the slip up that means you unconsciously make a tea for yourself in his mug. a no-go, a thing you never do. the cup sacred, forever off limits unless he’s here. the one you’d bought as a joke, wrapped it in paper and watched him stare at it when he unveiled the skull on the side with the bone handle.

“this bought for me?”

“well, it’s not for next door, simon.”

suddenly, you don’t fancy tea. your heart aching, all heavy and downtrodden in your chest. so you pour it away, washing it out and putting it away quickly. because you know it’ll sting seeing it on the drainer in the morning. practically punch you in the gut—because your mind will trick itself into thinking he’s home. that he’s back. for whatever time he can spare.

by the time his car pulls onto the drive, the house is coated in darkness. the moon full, high in the sky. shimmering a luminescent glow on everything and anything it can touch.

you must be tired, shattered. no murmur of his name or quickened footsteps when he slides his key on the lock, when he takes his boots off. he does do it with precision, care—almost mouse like for a man that’s more mountain than man. shoving them away in the contraption you bought sometime between the two of you moving in and him coming back to you.

and because the house is quiet, silent. a pin being dropped sounding like a shout, he begins his routine. the one where he shoves the things away he doesn’t need to have. not needing reminders of what he does as ghost when he’s trying to focus on being simon.

his routine concludes with a shower in the downstairs guest bathroom, watching the places he’s just been slide down the plug hole, all out of sight, out of mind. you know this routine, keeping some of his casual clothes—sweats and tees in a drawer, for moments like this.

even if he should expect it by now, he still smiles as your genuineness. your kindness. the one that comes ti you with ease.

it’s why he craves being next to you, being able to hear your breaths—close his eyes and allow the evidence to bury the niggling worries he amasses when he’s not with you.

but, joining you isn’t possible. discovering you star-fished, snoring lightly—one of his t-shirts covering and concealing you. practically burying you. and so he closes the door, heads back downstairs. running a hand over the back of his head, feeling clumps of long and short hair from his bad diy cut you’ll undoubtedly have things to say about.

but it isn’t until he’s walking past the kitchen, does he notice the mug and glass cupboard ajar. a thought appearing, his hand retrieving his mug and placing it on the side. a sign, he hopes—a bold exclamation that he is home, in case you wake before him.

you don’t wake before him. simon and fucked up body clock, as usual, wakes at the first break of sunlight. only rising from the guest bed when he hears the floorboards above. your feet eventually coming down the staircase, all slow and heavy, his mind imagining you rubbing your eyes, softly sighing at another day.

he waits in the doorway—the one connecting the guest bedroom to the kitchen—watching you come to a standstill, eyes blinking as you stare at the mug.

simon doesn’t know the error you made yesterday, that you’re going through a crisis of whether you’d put it away or not. whether you’d lost your mind from missing him so much.

he just knows you’re not reacting. not whispering, never mind shouting his name. so he clears his throat, loud, purposeful.

and your head spins—he’s even pretty sure he hears it crack—and then the reaction he expected lands.

it erupts over your face. an explosion of confusion and joy, tear-filled eyes and a large smile, before you’re in his arms, face buried against his chest as he feels you shake with sobs he hopes are because you’re happy.

“take it you’re happy i’m home?”

“more than you think.”

his chin comes to rest on the top of your head, fingers stroking up and down your back.

the mug becomes a sign, a beacon.

it only ever used to indicate he was home—a trophy that remains on the side, until he gets the call that he has to go.

then he is the one to put it away, hating how he turns to always find your lips being chewed by your teeth.

“it’ll be back out before you know it.”

“it better be.”

simon doesn’t promise. because he knows—as do you—that there’s none he can keep in the games he plays. he comforts you without words, his mouth slanted over yours.

I’ll always fight to get home to you.

#ghost x reader #cod ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii x reader #cod ghost #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod x you #mwii x reader #ghost x you #Simon Riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod mwii #cod mw2 ghost

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thyln4gf · 20 days

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Darling, can I?

✞ Confusing feelings - youre both lost, stuck and thinking about each other after the hookup. But its not a one-night stand if it turns into two, right?

✞ Word count - 1898

✞ I have synesthesia! Heres 5 songs that i associate with this fic - "favorite" - Isabel LaRosa, "bad idea!" - Girl In Red, "attention" - Charlie Puth, "eat your young" - Hozier, "meddle about" - Chase Atlantic.

✞ Warnings - smut, mentions of alcohol.

✞ Lando Norris x reader

Whiskey, expensive cologne, and dizzying passion.

Thats what he reminded you of. The image of him was burned into your brain permanently. Whenever whiskey washed over your tongue, memories of him would flash before your eyes. The way he had his tongue deep down your throat, mercilessly fighting with yours. The subtle flavour of whiskey and the cologne he used numbed your senses, almost making you forget your own name. No one has brought you to the heights he has by simply kissing you. No one, ever. And all that happened only once - yet, you couldnt help but let your mind linger on the memory. You kept it close to your chest, like something sweet and sacred. But you thought that he didnt feel the same - and you spent hours thinking about it. He was a famous figure, after all. You probably were just another pretty looking doll to him, something he could play with once and throw away. But did you care? No, not really. You knew that you could easily get anyone else. If you wanted to, that is.

Initially, Lando thought the exact same thing. That you were a pretty thing that he particularly enjoyed playing around with for a night. But, after you, hooking up with women simply didnt feel the same. He kept thinking of you and your scent. The way you looked at him (that look in your eyes was enough to make any mans knees buckle), and the way you made him feel. He was starting to regret his actions, as he found his heart making even more space for you and the feelings for you that have been bubbling up to the surface.

Today was no different - he was staring up at the ceiling, contemplating his life choices. It was approximately 7am, and all he could think about was you. Even when the pretty looking miss barbie he had in his bed tried talking to him - he found himself getting distracted. You just had a way of drawing people in, and barely even noticing it.

And, before he knew it, he was up on his feet, getting ready to leave the house. He had already escorted the blondie out of the door, and that was his last straw - as soon as the distraction left his space... he *had* to go and see you. He wasnt so sure if you would accept him, though. He felt like an ass. He used you and threw you away like something disposable. And he was sure that it was an uncomfortable experience to spot him out and about - monaco wasnt that huge, after all.

"Fucking hell..." he muttered under his breath, as he was currently failing to button up his shirt - his hands were shaking more than ever. He knew that you had options, and that so did he. But he was almost desperate to hold you in his arms.

-------

You were having another slow morning - the weight of your responsibilities was slowly, but surely, weighing you down. You had pulled yet another all nighter - your body is currently powered by hopes, prayers, and a load of canned caffeine. You were surprised by how you were still pulling through.

You were currently walking around with a textbook in your hands, hoping that the walking part is going to trick your body into staying awake. And it was actually working, honestly - despite your legs feeling like pieces of stone. The house was pretty quiet, too. One of the things that made you cherish living alone - peace and quiet.

But thats until you heard your doorbell ring. You werent expecting anybody, it was a Tuesday morning... you put the book down onto the kitchen table, and start making your way towards the front door.

You had a horrible habit of opening the door without peeking through the little hole. And you should have, atleast this time - because none other than Norris himself has made his appearance. You werent expecting such a sight, and so early. You werent expecting him to squeeze himself right past you into your house, either.

"What the fu - hello?" You calmly call out to him, your voice laced with confusion. However, you dont question it much, and close the door behind you. Lando almost looks grateful as you do so - almost as if he was expecting for you to kick him out.

He looks into your eyes, just like that. You can see him briefly licking his lips, and one of his hands going to the back of his neck, rubbing it. He looks away and takes a deep breath, before he can even say anything else. He had 'im nervous and overwhelmed' written all over him, in capital letters. But what is it? Only the sight of him made your heartbeat accelerate a tiny bit.

"I wanted to - ohhh..." he tries to speak up, but he sees you stepping closer to him. Your movements made him freeze in his spot. His breath got caught in his throat. In all honesty... when he looked into your eyes, all he could think about was that one night you spent together, and his confusion about his feelings towards you amplified. Your movements were slow enough to almost feel agonising, making him want to snap and break his composure.

Neither of you say a word, nothing. All he could see was you, and all you could see was him. You could almost imagine how his hot breath would feel on your neck, and in... other places.

But, besides your own thoughts, him struggling to breathe, and the distant ticking of the clock somewhere in the house, nothing else could be heard. The clock almost felt like a ticking bomb, a countdown of seconds until one of you snapped. Both of you knew what was coming a long, long time ago. It was just a question of when.

The silly little staring contest continued. But Lando couldnt keep to himself for much longer - he almost lunges towards you, planting his lips on yours like he was a drowning man, desperately trying to come up for air. You cant even describe the noise that just left your throat, though it was definitely one of surprise. But you quickly found yourself kissing him back, your hands immediately burying themselves into his hair, his snaking around your waist.

You both start losing yourselves, and pretty fast. All the energy and the longing spilled out, sending a wave of electricity throughout your body. You spent the past couple of weeks trying to ignore those thoughts. That maybe, just maybe - you liked him. Each and every of your doubts melted with zero effort as soon as you felt him squeeze your body against his, his fingertips clinging onto your clothes, desperately.

You werent sure of the speed you wanted this to be. As if sensing your confusion, Lando slips his arms a little lower, them now being wrapped around your hips. He didnt want to waste any time, nor he liked to do that. Suddenly, the feeling of being carried takes over - Lando has picked you up, and is about to pin you against the wall with his body.

The intensity he kisses you with increases as your body makes contact with the wall. You can feel his every muscle, hear all the sounds he's making. Hell, you think that you can even hear his heartbeat. You can feel a bite or two he makes on your lips, but youre too far gone for your brain to register it properly.

His body presses against you even harder, the feeling making you moan. You hear him chuckle - he's rather happy that he gets to see the wild side of you - youre always so calm, so... collected. He liked to joke that you were a rock in your past life. His hands leave your hips, now roaming all over your body. He always liked to explore - and this wasnt an exception.

Eventually, his hands start slipping under your shirt. His fingertips are a little calloused and rough from all the training and racing, but his palms were soft. His fingertips were still a little chilly from the air outside, and his palms felt almost disgustingly warm. The contrast between the textures and temperatures makes you shiver with pleasure. You cant help but imagine what they would feel like if he put them down your pants.

If you didnt believe in being able to read someone elses mind before... You were about to. Because you suddenly felt one of his hands slip lower, and lower, and lower. From your chest, down to your stomach, and down to the waistband of your pants. But he doesnt go further, for now - he pulls away slightly, to look up at you, his eyes filled with anticipation. He clearly wanted to ask if you really wanted this, for your permission to go further. He just couldnt find the right words - a part of him was scared as well.

You didnt know what to say either. You always struggled with talking about your feelings, leaving alone... these. All you could manage was crash your lips back onto his, even harder than before. A surprise groan leaves Landos throat, a moan - yours. He understood your message well, or so he hoped. He didnt want to misunderstand anything, even worse - hurt you.

His hand does end up in your pants, starting to slowly rub in all the right places. And, right at that moment, you can feel your brain disconnect from your own body - its almost like you were suddenly working on autopilot. You were almost ashamed to admit, but you could already feel yourself getting close. Something about him felt nothing like you have ever felt before, in all the right ways - his touch overwhelmed and turned you on at the same time.

Lando could feel your back trying to arch, and hear your moans getting louder. He smirks to himself - that didnt take long, he thought. Even faster than he would usually finish in.

The orgasm reaches you just seconds after. The wave felt hot, melting your insides and your inner thighs, as you moan into his mouth. Oh yeah, right - you two never stopped kissing each other during all of this. You simply couldnt be bothered to leave each others embrace. Well, you were basically forced, still pinned against the wall - but you didnt have any complaints. You barely had it in you to kiss him back anymore.

And he could feel it. He felt it. He pulled his face away from yours just a little, making eye contact with you. His hand that was in your pants just now comes up to his face, starting to lick the fingers clean. All while never losing the eye contact. For the first time in awhile, the sight in front of you made you blush.

Seeing your reaction, he chuckled, again. You were adorable. He hesitates slightly before speaking up.

"Could I be your favourite, darling? Can i?" He asks you, in the most gentle tone you have ever heard. The thought of it only makes you smile like an idiot.

'Youll know when you find the one', they said. And you always thought of it as bullshit. But right now? You were proved wrong. You were staring into this mans eyes and you could see the world.

Your favourite.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanart #formula one fanart #fanfiction #formula one fanfics #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando fanart #oneshot

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ssentimentals · 9 months

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mingyu + first morning together

mingyu wakes up due to prickling sensation and it takes him full ten seconds to place where it's coming from; when he does though, he can't help but smile contentedly. the weight of your warm body half-draped on his chest turned his arm numb and there's also a tad bit of moisture on his shirt, which most definitely is your drool. he looks at your sleeping head and only huffs affectionately. all in all, it should be concerning how he doesn't mind it, not at all.

'babe,' he whispers, testing how deep in sleep you are. when you don't move and inch and continue to sleep peacefully, he tries again: 'baby.'

he gently caresses your face, smiling at the cute way you scrunch up your nose. this action makes him want to plant thousand of kisses all over your face, but he holds back with a great restraint because you were tired and deserved a good sleep. god, he is so done for. understanding that you're not going to wake up, he carefully extracts himself from under you and gingerly moves out of the bed. your lips form into a small pout and inside of him little five years old girl is squealing of your cuteness - yeah, he's got it bad. with his stiff body from sleeping in the same position, he moves to the guest bathroom, not wanting to disrupt your sleep. he tiptoes around the house even though he knows not even the loudest storm will wake you up right now. this thought crosses his mind and then he feels incredibly blessed and lucky to know you that well, to know this kind of information about you that is not in the open, the one you can learn only if you are close. when it comes to you mingyu is so greedy - he wants to know it all, more than anyone else. he wants to be close, so close, the closest to you, wants to embody himself so deep into your heart that it will take a shape of his name. sometimes the intensity of his desire scares him, but he reminds himself that it's okay to be greedy sometimes and he is greedy only when it comes to you.

quickly going through his morning routine, mingyu then moves to the kitchen, humming familiar tune under his breath. it's crazy how different he feels now from how he usually feels when he wakes up alone; usually his mind is filled with thousand and one thoughts and his mood is rather stagnant, while right now he wants to sing and jump and happiness fills his soul to the brim. his chest feels tight just thinking about how this is your first morning together, how there'll be many more mornings like that, when he'lll get to wake up by your side, watch you sleep, get to cook a breakfast for you just like he's doing now. mingyu is a grateful guy, he knows a blessing when he sees one, and having you wake up with him is a blessing. he thinks of the way you adorably whined before going to sleep, how you two giggled in front of the mirror in the bathroom while brushing your teeth - his most sacred, intimate fantasies of domestic life came true in just one evening with you. smiling from ear to ear, he doesn't even notice how he goes from cooking one dish to another, head in the cloud with thoughts about you. you, you, you. how you cuddle to him while sleeping even if it's too hot, how you frown when he moves his arm away, how your body molds into his and fits perfectly like you two were made for each other - and you were, mingyu is sure of it. so lost in his head, he doesn't hear approaching footsteps and gets frightened when you clear your throat, calling his name softly.

'god, you scared me babe-' he stops, turning around and seeing you. mingyu blinks, taking your appereance in again and then whines loudly: 'how can you stand there looking like that?'

your adorable confusion at this only makes him whine more. 'babyyy,' he lets out, sounding like he's in physical pain.

the t-shirt in question, that's oversized even on him, swallows you up whole and hangs off your one shoulder; coupled with your sleepy look and pouty lips, it's the image that has his knees growing weak. you blink at him, smiling lightly as you approach for the cuddles. which he immediately gives, because there's nothing in this world that he won't give to you willingly without you having to even ask. basking in his attention and soft kisses on top of your head, you turn your head a little, huffing a small laugh: 'what's all of this?'

mingyu blushes, hiding his face in your hair. 'i made breakfast, but i didn't know what you will feel like eating now, so-'

'so you made enough to feed a small tribe.' you finish for him, looking over everything on the table. lifting your head to make eye contact, you mumble: 'baby, that's too much.'

cradling your face in his hands and holding it like a precious jewel, mingyu leans in, pecking your forehead, eyelids, nose and then lips. 'nothing is too much when it comes to you.'

he sees the way your eyes light up at this, how you try so hard not to blush but still avert your eyes, smiling shyly. this soft happiness that radiates from you is enough to send his heart hammering away and it takes everything in his willpower not to scoop you up in his arms and carry you back to the bedroom, breakfast be damned. 'go wash up, i'll make tea,' he whispers, planting one kiss on your temple.

'let me go then,' you chuckle, pointing at his arms that hold you like a vice.

'only for you to wash up,' mingyu grumbles fakely, earning a giggle from you. 'be quick!'

'don't eat anything before me!' you shout, rushing to the bathroom. 'wait for me!'

mingyu bites his tongue in order not to shout the 'i'll always wait for you' answer. he still whispers it to himself though, because it feels godo to say it out loud and because it's true. he'll always wait for you.

a/n: what a better way to come back from hiatus than with mingyu fluff? hope you liked this one! check out my other works here - nini

tag list (hi, hello, i am back): @smalliechelle @jaetaimjadore @yeow6n @a-wandering-stay (let me know if you want to be added!)

also this blog is mainly for seventeen, but i'm thinking of adding other groups here (like ateez), so if you don't want to be tagged in works for them - let me know!

#kim mingyu x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen kim mingyu #svt kim mingyu #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #kim mingyu #seventeen reaction #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #i wrote his and kind of choked from how fluffy it is but oh well #we all need fluff in our lives don't we

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angelstate · 3 months

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Husband!Konig x Wife!Reader.

Husband!Konig is a good lover, one who treats every situation with gentleness, he approaches you with a kind and understanding nature even if you are in the wrong because he would rather take the fault that let you be upset, he knows you don’t mean any harm, just sometimes it takes a bit to realize when you did something wrong or jumped into a conclusion that wasn’t true.

He is a kind and patient soul who wants only the best for you even if it means going against what everyone else deems acceptable, his heart knows no boundaries when it comes to making you happy and enjoy life the way you should.

Husband!Konig doubts himself a lot, he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you at times because of his job, and thinks that somehow his enemies will cause you harm in the long run even if you’re not associated with his work at all, it is something that makes him anxious but he manages his emotions to dedicate his energy to you.

Husband!Konig likes to buy you flowers every time he can, returning home from grocery shopping with a bouquet on his hands that he is already taking care of to put on a vase on the dining table, buying your favorite flower on his way home after a mission, he knows better than to show empty-handed, even if you only care about him and half the time crush the flowers with your eager hugs.

He likes the little details of love, the act of showing he has you in mind even in the smallest of ways because that means he isn’t just being superficial like most husbands who like their wives but do nothing to make them feel loved.

He thinks that should be a crime against the holiness of marriage, such a sacred union should be reserved for those who value their partner enough to go out of their way to make their life easier with simple things like doing house chores, buying their favorite snacks, and such.

Husband!Konig knows that his height brings certain problems most people didn’t know existed like the size of the bed you two sleep in, because no matter how much you searched on the internet, it seemed that every bed you buy is too small for the huge husband you have, or the amount of food that you have to regularly buy so the pantry isn’t empty because he raided every edible thing in the kitchen.

That said, it also has its perks, if you can’t reach something he is already grabbing it for you, cleaning the ceiling lamps or changing a light bulb has never been easier and his clothes are oversized just the way you like them.

you take advantage of his physic more than you should, telling him to carry you around in his arms, refusing to get up in the morning knowing he would throw you over his shoulder and force you to shower with him even if you showered the night before, you don’t even mind waking up early and showering with him but it’s fun to play hard to get with a man who has the ability to manhandle you as he wishes.

Husband!Konig is a soft-hearted person, he might seem intimidating on the outside but he is a man connected with his emotional side, not afraid to cry in front of you or vocalize when he’s upset or the reason behind his feelings, he knows that is unhealthy to keep emotions bottled up because they can cause resentment and he doesn’t want that for the two of you.

Husband!Konig loves animals, especially cats because of their soft fur and independent nature, so when this fat orange male cat approached him in the streets and rubbed against his legs when he had gone out to take the trash was definitely a moment that filled him with joy, as he took it inside your home and showed it to you, stating now you had a pet.

Husband!Konig is a very energetic person, always doing something with his hands, an anxiousness that only goes away when he’s focusing on something that requires him to sit still, like braiding your hair, he doesn’t want to get distracted and accidentally hurt you by pulling your hair or braiding too tightly that causes you a headache, he's careful to the point it seems like his defusing a bomb.

Husband!Konig loves the mundanity of everyday life, he feels at ease when his days blur together because there’s a routine that doesn’t involve violence, and it's easy for him to fall deep into the cycle of living day by day with peace on his mind and the lack of panic attacks that once consumed his days.

Husband!Konig is an amazing person overall, he dedicates every bit of himself to being infatuated with you, feeling you in every way possible, and connecting with you with every aspect of life the two of you share, he knows his love sometimes is overwhelming but taking care of you brings a calmness on his life, knowing his doing something inherently good.

He takes care of you for his and your pleasure, he takes pride in knowing you’re happy and satisfied at a physical and emotional level because he doesn’t like to see you anxious, and doesn’t like when life begins to burden you.

seasonal depression seems to be his worst enemy during the winter, more so than the low temperatures that make his hands numb and cheeks hurt from the cold, he knows the lack of sunlight and the inability to go out makes you depressed, that as much as you value staying home you also like nature but the snow stops you from going out for too long, your immune system being a bit weak doesn’t help either.

But he manages, he buys you a lightbox to help with your depression, and yeah, he knows artificial sunlight isn’t the remedy to your sadness but it keeps you at more peace and he likes to at least try and bring comfort to your home the way he can even if it doesn’t replace the real thing.

Husband!Konig is the perfect partner, truly. and he wishes that he gets to love you and take care of you in every lifetime, wants to be by your side in every universe that exists out there because he knows he would never be truly happy if he isn’t with you.

(little reminder: i'm taking requests if you would like me to write about something specific xx)

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har-rison-s · 5 months

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counting on it | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: hello all... this is supposed to be a part 2 for fear or endearment, but i feel like rewriting that one so idk, this could as well be a stand-alone writing / one-shot with a possible continuation? idk though. happy reading <3

this is techincally part 2 of this little drabble

next chapter coryo masterlist

main masterlist

word count: 4k

themes: fluff

warnings: mention of bombs, idrk what else??

gif credit goes to owner <3

the phone in her room never rang, which meant only one thing – it wasn’t the usual mysery business calling. each time the house phone rang, however, it was like a heart attack for her. any incoming calls to her home were only to her parents to tell them about her making trouble at the Academy again, and again. so it was never a pleasant phone call.

but she knew it could only be Coryo calling now, so she picked up the phone with a lovey-dovey smile on her lips already. “yes?” she asked into the round microphone end of the device, squeezing it between her rosy cheek and her shoulder.

“good evening,” coryo’s shaky voice said into the speaker, and it was so uptight that she giggled, “is this you or not?”

“i-it’s me, yes,” she confirmed with another giggle. he’s nervous around her still, and miserably so, and it’s coming out in the form of a very formal greeting, “but is this really you, coryo?”

“of course it’s me,” he said, now so sure of himself he was bleeding with it, “were you expecting someone else to call?”

“well, there’s the routine call from the Academy about me misbehaving that comes once or twice a week,” she answered, “no one other than that. why are you calling? i usually call you.”

she could hear him make a smile into his microphone, and she blushed at the thought of it, and his quiet chuckle that she heard, too. “i was thinking of you,” he admitted, and she raised her eyebrows. coryo being nervous one minute but then blunt the next really does a number on her. she wouldn’t believe he was such a nervous wreck around her by his looks, or by her own. he must be really... “if you’re free and not sleeping, i wanted to show you around grandma’am’s—well, our family’s—garden upstairs. o-only if you want to, of course, and if you’re free.”

she smiled again and shook her head. this cold boy was warming his way into her heart quicker than he was before. before they’d crossed that sacred line with the kiss in his empty kitchen. “yes, i’m free and not sleeping, and i would love to,” she said, “didn’t know you had an upstairs garden. i’ll be over in less than twenty minutes. do you need anything from my cooks?”

she always looks out for him, doesn’t she? he hadn’t even thought of that aspect of their relationship. he’s only in total emotional turmoil and was missing her terribly. the bombing at the arena and then being in hospital, out for who knows how many days, robbed him of seeing her every day, like he usually would, which he’d grown used to. she would have visited him in the hospital, but apparently she was not permitted to – she guesses because of her trouble-making at school. her presence and the frequentness of it brought him comfort. he couldn’t think of anyone else at this time, not even Tigris could console or comfort him. not like y/n could.

she got barely a good enough answer from Coryo, but packed a bag of sandwiches and pie nonetheless before departing in her driver’s car for Coryo’s apartment in the Corso. she knew he didn’t like charity, and wouldn’t be asking for food from her if it wasn’t absolutely the end of days. he also didn’t let anyone else from school but her see where he lived – and even about her, taking her upbringing and current wealth, he had doubts. with her unpredictable nature, he could never predict her reaction to seeing his home. and not knowing whether she’d run and belittle him at school or stay and still like him regardless was frustrating. because he could never have any control over her reactions, and that scared him.

but she didn’t run away, nor belittle him, nor think less of him. a home is a home, and she knew how hard anything was to come by for the Snows. because her and Coryo had become friends over all their time spent together at school, even despite the vast difference in their personalities, they had this undoubtable connection, she had grown to care about him. therefore it was her idea, of course, to bring him any food she could from her mansion of a home where food was always excess. truth be told, Coryo had thought of the possibility of asking her, but he would never have let down his pride or let her see his vulnerable side. perhaps, until now.

she was panting and heaving when she finally reached the floor of the Snows’ penthouse in the apartment building, which isn’t the ideal state to meet the boy of your fancies in, but seeing his welcoming smile made her feel at ease. she hardly came off to people as anything but frazzled, but Coryo has proved that it doesn��t matter to him, so she dares not worry. she smiled back wide, too, and doubles over for a few moments to catch her breath.

Coryo paced over to her and put a hand on her arm, which made her look at him. “hey,” she said in a heavy breath and with a smile still on her lips, “i’m fine, really,” she said with a shake of her head. Coryo nodded and then shrugged.

“how improper of me, i should have gone down to walk you up,” he said, then, and they both chuckled.

“don’t worry your pretty head over it,” she said in response with a carefree throw of a hand, “just a shame the elevator doesn’t work.” Coryo nodded again at her statement, and y/n breathed one last sigh of heavy breath before really looking up at him. there was something different about him. most of all, his piercing blue eyes looked glassy, unlike their usual look- cold, convicted, confident, calm. all the characteristics she could match to Coryo himself. her eyebrows twitched slightly as she reached a hand out to his cheek, and upon touching it found him trembling. now that she looked at him closer, and he let her do that, she noticed his curls messy, out of their usual arrange, and his cheeks not as rosy as always, blueish rings under his eyes. something was troubling him, and she didn’t have to guess twice what.

she kissed his lips quickly, feeling as though he might fall apart or spill his worried words out like a river if she didn’t. Coryo immediately sunk into her through the kiss, arms wrapping around her coat-covered waist so close he nearly started to lift her up and, really, with the mood he’s in, he might as well have. he was so desperate for her, so desperate to feel her close that it made himself nauseaus. he’d sworn off any romantic relations until he and his family had a better place to live, and the breaking of his own promise made him an enemy to himself. what was she doing to him?

but this felt so good with her, so good that he never wanted to let go of her, never wanted there to be a day in which he doesn’t get to see her if only for a few seconds. she was making him feel things he’d never felt before, things he couldn’t understand now. pulling away from her after giving her a searing hot kiss was torture, but he had to give them both air to breathe. “i missed you,” he admitted to her what he’d never admitted to anyone else before. y/n smiled and nodded, their foreheads touching, “i wanted to see you. i had to.”

“i know,” she nodded again, “i’m sorry i didn’t come to the hospital – i couldn’t.” she admitted with a gentle shake of her head, and suddenly she felt strongly overcome by emotion. “they wouldn’t let me in.” her hands rested on his neck, on his chest, she nearly made desparate gestures, as if he wasn’t in her hold or would be taken away any second. she’d missed him, too. Coryo furrowed his brow. they wouldn’t let her in? he looked into her eyes, and she nodded, her eyes sad, too, but not nearly as sad as his own. “my reputation as sort of a rebel and all.”

that word. poison to him. poison to the whole nation. her using it as a joke didn’t come off too strongly with comedy, and he wished she wouldn’t use it at all. “they were fools not to,” Coryo said amidst his inner disagreement, “you should have come with Tigris and Sejanus, they would have let you in then.”

“pretty hard to get hold of them when they don’t really know about us,” y/n pointed out the fact with half a smile on her face, hoping it wouldn’t stir the wrong nerve in the boy. but it didn’t. Coryo always knew the truth, just didn’t always act on it or deem it worth anything. what good was the truth if you could tell lies instead? he nodded at her and closed his eyes, “i only found out you’ve been hospitalised from the news. and the bombing – god, Coryo, that’s just...”

he made a firm shake of his head at her words and pressed a kiss to her cheek before taking her hand and leading her away from the stairwell. she just watched him as he pulled her through his door, knowing Coryo doesn’t like remembering the war days. they both experienced it, both had run-ins with bombs and many other traumatic war characteristics that they’d rather forget. Tigris and grandma’am were both asleep, so there were no worries about accidental run-ins with either of them, while y/n was still unintroduced to both. Coryo wanted to avoid an awkward situation right now as best he could.

Coryo led her to a door by their kitchen, which opened up to a stairwell, rather than a simple cupboard (what would they keep in there, anyway? the Snows had so little belongings to them and so little food to eat that there was hardly any excess anything in the apartment), and, himself going first and y/n following suit with her hand still in his, led them both up those stairs that looked older than his grandmother with no doubt. the breeze of the night welcomed them with sweeping arms as a cloud of red and white surrounded y/n’s vision.

a rooftop garden. the Snows were giving y/n’s family a run for their money with the beauty of this scooped-away little paradise. she gasped as she tried to take it all in, looking all around herself at all the roses – white and red – engulfing her and Coryo. there was scarcely anything else on the rooftop besides the roses, just a pair of old chairs, gardening tools and a watering can in one of the far corners. this was just unbelievable.

her hand covered her mouth as she looked at Coryo in shock and fascination. there was quite nothing like the beauty of so many roses, and the view this rooftop gave of the city. truth be told, the Capitol could look better – torn, burnt buildings, trash littered in the streets, hardly any plants growing anywhere, and it looked especially worse now in the night, scary even – but still, a panoramic view was a panoramic view. she clung to Coryo, arms around his waist as she all but blushed and gushed at the sight around them. “it’s breath-taking, Coryo,” she said finally, and he put an arm around her, smiling softly at her joy. he didn’t know another person’s smile could mean so much to him, and even warm him and make him feel better.

“grandma’am’s pride and joy,” he said to her, overlooking the garden, too, and he walked them both further into it, away from the door – god forbid either of his sleeping family members woke up from their voices in the night.

“i’ve been wondering where you got those roses you like to give me,” and the one for lucy gray, y/n said as she ran her hands over the beautiful, seemingly perfect white petals. no flaws on them, none visible, anyway. just like Coryo himself. she looked back to him, his hair seeming to glow in the dark of the night, and Coryo smiled at her with tightly closed lips, “god, it’s great here. i love this view,” she said and leaned on the edge of the stone balcony, her hands splayed on either side of her, stretching further away from her. Coryo took slow steps to approach her, and finally he dared to come up just behind her, arms wrapping around her waist again. she immediately leaned into him, locking her hands on his on her stomach.

“it’s great for when i want to be alone, catch a break,” he said and sighed softly. her thumb gently grazed across the pearly white skin of his hands and her eyes slowed down in wonder. they usually jump around, never rest, but it’s different when she’s with him. he seems to ground her a little.

“was tonight one of those nights?” she asked quietly and felt him nodding as he made a hum of confirmation. she turned around in his arms and looked up at him, hands on his chest. “i figured as much. you never call me yourself.” she said and made an airy chuckle, though Coryo’s lips barely lifted to make any kind of expression at all. “what is it?” he shook his head and made to kiss her again, dipping his head down, but she moved away. “you have to talk to me.” she said, with a firm hand on his cheek now, in case he attempted for her lips again. “you have no reason to hide from me, come on. and i wouldn’t tell anyone, you know that.” it’s her unavailing ability to always somehow make a half-hearted joke that Coryo likes about her, even though he wouldn’t let himself like that.

but he found himself unable to say no to her. so he turned them around, him being the one who leans against the edge now, both of them holding onto each other still. he looked at her thin coat and the dress she’s wearing underneath, and he traced his hand up her arm just to ease himself. “the bombs were horrible,” he finally said in a quiet voice, “i was scared for Lucy Gray, too. but see, she saved my life.” Coryo said, and y/n could see he hated to admit it. that a district girl could do good. all this propaganda about district people being animals and monsters worked well on them as children, but now, as they’re growing up, they’re seeing some truth for themselves. even if the propaganda is hard to erase from their minds. “i’m in her debt for that. and i’m not sure i could ever repay her.”

“you could help and make her win the games,” y/n suggested, but with nods from Coryo she knows he already thought of that, of course.

“i don’t know if i can do that,” he said in a frail voice, “she said to help her i should start believing she actually could win, but... i don’t think she’s gonna make it,” Coryo admitted, “other tributes are better at fighting and stronger than her, she barely has a chance. which means she’ll probably be one of the first ones to get killed, and then i’ll lose the Plinth prize and the Snow name will go into ruin.” he jumped to conclusions quickly, as she has found that he usually does, and it made her sigh. she pulled him in for an embrace, her arms around his neck, forehead to forehead, her curls tickling her cheek.

“i still can’t believe they let the games go on after the bombing,” she admitted quietly, “but that would be Capitol showing weakness, so of course they wouldn’t stop the games. but look,” she held his trembling face in her hands, trying to make him look at her, “you and Lucy Gray both have charm. as much as i’ve noticed, no one else does. and no one is as bonded to their tribute as you are. her song brought her a lot of donations, and you can work with that. she just has to hide out long enough and...”

“that’s where i stopped, too,” Coryo said and shook his head with a sigh again, “it was doomed from the start. Highbottom has something against me, i know he does. i got the last district, and i couldn’t help her – just as he wanted.”

“i still believe you can prove him wrong,” she argued back, convicted, “but as mentors, you are pretty helpless when the games start. it’s all up to the tributes themselves.”

Coryo looks up at her again, “i bet you would have made a great mentor,” he told her with that charming half-grin on his delicious lips that made her tilt her head at him in disbelief.

“me?” she echoed and Coryo nodded. “please, you’re just saying that to get into my pants. i can’t even make people like me at school, much less make the whole nation like someone from the districts enough to support them in the arena.” she shook her head. “i would be a terrible mentor.”

Coryo shook his head and pulled her closer to him again by her waist, her having taken a step back while talking. he had her attention now, she looked down at him again, with seemingly a question mark in her eyes. “i like you, and i’m from school,” he said as his hands slid up her back, his fingers so long and his palms so big he could cover just half her back with his hands.

“yeah, but i didn’t make you like me. i didn’t even try and here we are,” she said dismissively and meant to pull away again before Coryo kissed her lips again. ah, so that’s what he was trying to say – she didn’t even need to try to get him to like her. there was no effort, there was just her usual self and he liked her for that. it still seemed hard to believe, though. “i like you, too, by the way,” she butted in again before returning a kiss and smiled at Coryo chuckling at her little joke. he spread his legs for her to get even closer, now standing between them and kissing his pink lips with one of her hands splayed on his cheek and the other carefully ghosting over his snow-white curls, not wanting to ruin them.

but Coryo didn’t care, they were all dishevelled before they met up, anyway, and in this moment between them his own visual look didn’t matter that much to him. she was already kissing him, anyway, he’d won her over, so to say. and he was pulling her closer and closer to him with his hands roaming all about her back and her hips as their kisses grew more frequent, more hot, more messy. Coryo felt like his head was spinning, and he knew he was disobeying the doctor’s orders to rest and take everything easy with this. but he couldn’t help it. it was her.

he hoisted a leg of hers over his, surprising her and earning a gasp from her. which gave him the advantage to deepen the kiss with his tongue now poking at her own between their heated kisses, and he actually made her moan. it hummed so deliciously into his mouth and Coryo felt himself shudder because of it, his trousers tightening exponentially around his crotch. she was no longer afraid of ruining his perfect hair, she ran her hand through the soft curls and reached into his half-unbuttoned shirt with her other hand, skimming his perfectly-shaded naked skin with her careful hands. their kisses lost count and air ran out, but they just needed each other so much that they didn’t even notice. Coryo ran his hand across her up-hoisted thigh, even reaching under her dress, which made her hum against his lips again. “ungh, Coryo,” she mumbled into his burning mouth and grabbed onto his neck for support as he edged his hand higher and higher up her dress.

he might have reached near the spot where she had the most heat ignited for him, but her accidentally pressing her hand into a sensitive, wounded area on his back made him yelp out and jerk like he’d just been hit by live electricity. she immediately jumped off him and saw the hurt expression on his wincing face and felt guilty. a hand covered her mouth as the other one carefully reached out to him. Coryo took his shirt off and looked over his shoulder—though he could barely see that way—if any stitches had broken loose, and then exhaled sharply, suddenly sounding exhausted.

“Coryo, i’m so sorry,” she said in a hushed voice, still wary to touch him without his permission. he looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. she could see the pain was fading away by the expression on his face – the wince and cringe were slowly letting go of his facial muscles – but she still felt bad.

“don’t be,” he told her in a hoarse voice, “i didn’t tell you about my injuries. you couldn’t have known,”

“but i still feel bad,” she said and came closer to him again, “i—i could take a look for you. maybe stitch you up, uh...” Coryo shook his head just as she took his hands in hers, and his head hang low again. “i’m sorry, let me fix it.”

he gave her a firm head shake again. “you don’t need to, i’ll go to a medic tomorrow,” he assured her and looked up into her bambi eyes again. she looked so pretty to him suddenly. well, of course, she always looks pretty and beautiful to him, it’s just her emotions right now that made her eyes look bigger and... he couldn’t put it into words.

“i could... stay over, if you don’t want to be alone. we could just talk or sleep, whatever,” she suggested with a naïve smile on her over-kissed lips, though already knowing that it’s probably going to be a “no” from him, knowing that the two of them were a pretty private item. if they were an item at all, of course. and, of course, Coryo shook his head.

“it’s late, you should be home,” he told her and gave a kiss to one of her hands, “besides,” he added, getting close to her again, nose to nose, “i’ll just get carried away with you again and then i’ll bleed all over you,” he said with a slight smile, and she appreciated the notion of a joke from him this time, instead of her. she giggled and her head dipped lower, his words – both dangerous, comedic and enticing – making her blush as if she was as young as twelve or thirteen and a boy had just flirted with her for the first time. Coryo kissed her temple and squeezed her hands. “you’re irresistible to me.”

she looked into his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity and lust as he said those words, so she believed him. she took a deep breath and made a small smile, that blush ever present in her cheeks. “as you are to me,” she said, “you could stay over sometime, though, at my place. i’d love for you to stay over,” she admitted quietly before she got ready to leave.

Coryo made a sheepish grin at her words and walked her back down the stairs and to the door of his penthouse. he took her close in his arms again for one more time before she had to leave and whispered in her ear, “i can’t promise i’ll be on my best behaviour with no one but you around.” he told her words that made her shiver and she just smiled wide as she stepped away from him.

before slipping out and through his door in the hour of creeping dawn, she said something very characteristic of herself, “i’ll be counting on it.” and with a kiss blown to Coryo, she was out and on her way home.

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#har-rison-s work #har-rison-s writes #coryolanus snow #coryo snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow

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whimsical-roasting · 9 months

Text

Jamie Tartt and the Five Love Language

THERES SO MUCH I COULD SAYYY and special thanks to @caapsiizzereads for helping me brainstorm some of these!! ugh just wanna love on the babyboy so much yknow??

TELL ME IF THERE'S MORE YOU CAN THINK OFFFFF

Words of Affirmations:

HE HAS A PRAISE KINK. ITS LITERALLYYYYYYY CANNON

Babyboy is so precious…… he knows how it feels not to get kind words, and so he just can’t help but give them out to you

“Woah, babe…your mind..” in a stunned manner when you go off about something you’re passionate about

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers at night as you fall asleep

Has a shared spotify playlist that you both can collab on, and it’s just songs (lyrics) that remind you of each other!! Jamie plays it when he’s heading to away games in the coach, and it makes him feel a bit calmer

Giving you ALL the praise and dirty talk during sexy time “you’re so fucking beautiful”, “you make me feel so so good” “holy fuck angel”

Sometimes just stares at you randomly with a goofy look and you’re like ??? what ??? what is it ?? did he realise i’m ugly or my nose is weird or wHAT !!!???!! and he’s just like, “you look like sunshine”, all smitten and shit

Kisses each feature on your body and says “my favourite” to every. single. one.

“I believe in ya!”

Desperately wants to make sure you guys have a couple’s song - something meaningful that describes how he feels about you that he can play for you both… like Sweet Nothings by Taylor Swift/Hearts Don’t Break Around You by Ed Sheeran/Simple Things by Miguel

Plays that song after fights when the silences are still tender; when you’re drunk and slow dancing in the kitchen at 3am; when you’re getting dressed for a gala, and he’s fixing his hair, and you’re putting on your earrings

“I adore you, sweetheart”, “you look like a pretty flower”, “me heart fuckin sings seeing ya”

Physical Touch:

Absent-mindedly plays with your hair

Nuzzles face into your neck and then peppers kisses on your shoulder

Massages/scratches your scalp cause he knows how good it feels when you do it for him

Traces patterns on your knee and thighs if you sit next to him

Gotta be holding hands at all times

Pinky promises are sacred… probs locks pinkies and then kisses his thumb to “stamp it”

Slapping his ass as he walks past you, and so he’s always covering his butt, complaining “babeeee you can’t do thattttt”, but then he’ll be all pouty if one day you don’t slap his ass when he walks past… “do you not love me anymore?”

He will randomly come up to you, wrap your arms around you, getting as close as possible and tuck his face between your shoulder and neck, saying that he’s recharging

Always gotta be touching some part of you.. it’s the only way to live tbh

Gift Giving:

Remember when Jamie was like, “can’t I just buy them all PS5s as a sorry??” “what better thing to spend money on than love?“ LMFAOOOO babyboy :”) he means well

The amount of effort he put into Roy’s gift for Uncle’s Day <3

Jamie would fucking love getting you fancy, expensive gifts around big occasions (birthdays, holidays etc.)

BUT I think he’d also love getting you smaller gifts like… Sunday morning flowers, or stocking up on different kinds of herbal tea in his kitchen cause he knows sometimes you’re in the mood for a random cuppa on quiet evenings

Personally, someone like me loves cute tea cups/mugs, so I think buying two mugs to keep in his house cause “they’re so cute, and I wanted them for us” would make him so happy!! He doesn’t even use them all that much, but just seeing them in the cupboard makes him smiley

The kind to want matching outfits or colour-coordinated outfits - most def would buy you both matching sneakers (so would Isaac/most of the team with his S/O)

Gets you a ‘J’ gold chain and wears a gold one with your initial

If he sees some targeted ad on your insta or something for what you’ve searched up he’s like hmmm,,,,,,i might just,,,*add to cart*

Quality Time:

Wants to spend all his time with you!! Ofc he does!!!

Is happy to just sit in silence, stroking your calves he watches tiktok with your legs on his lap!! Esp if you’re like reading/doing work on your laptop

He just wants to be there yknow? And he tries not to be annoying but the little puppy can’t help but wanna talk and touch and, ultimately, annoy you

Tries to invite you to all his events? “Can me girlfriend come?”

Even the ones that aren’t for guests, “babeeee, what do ya mean you won’t come to Colin’s guys' night? I swear they’ll be fine with it…probably!!” “can I come to girl’s night with ya? I’ll let you paint me nails…come on.. Pleaseeee?”

Texts you periodically during the night regardless ahahaha

I like the idea of, “hey I gotta drive somewhere, and it’s gonna take me 30 minutes..can you talk?” whilst one of you is in the car and the other’s at home or, I dunno, has some time during their day

Date nightssssss every two weeks… OR if the season gets busy and he’s also exhausted from Roy’s trainings then SPECIFIC carved out time to be affectionate and date-y

“I’m so sorry, love, I know we had that reservation tonight, but I came home knackered and just crashed…” “Jaim, it’s okay-” “No, no, it’s not! I’m so fucking dead from training I don’t even get to take ya out anymore! What if- what if you wanted a picnic, huh!” “Baby, it’s okay, really.. How about we set up a picnic on the living room floor and order takeout? Something that Roy’ll let you eat, yea?” “I’m so fucking grateful for ya, angel, I swear”

He always wants you to watch him score a goal on FIFA cause he’s a child ahahaha… probably teaches you how to play and then pouts when you score as Obisanya

Wants to try out random hobbies with you - sip and paint cause “I’ll have an excuse to draw outta the lines”; knitting cause “Bumbercatch said it’s soothin, babe”; quick dry clay but he makes a big circular lump at first and grins at you “look babe!! I made a football!”

Acts of Service:

HIM TEACHING ROY HOW TO RIDE A BIKE

Makes you coffee once he’s back from his 4am training

Always offers you his jacket/coat

“I know this was stressing ya, babe, so I took care of it”

“Don’t worry, love, I’ve been practising this dish just for you.. I won’t burn it this time, promise”

Late night cravings???? McDonald’s fries and an Oreo Mcflurry?? He’s already slipping on his jacket and finding his keys (imagine how attentive he’d be with your weird ass pregnancy cravings omg)

ALWAYS opens doors for you... Probably yells “WAIT” when in the car with you just so he can jog out and open your door with a grin

Always down to carry your purse, puts it on his shoulder like it’s HIS despite having his lil bum bag across his chest

Nightime or morning routine, he probs has to get ready before you so he lays out your skincare for you. Probs adds toothpaste on your brush if he hears you getting ready to enter the bathroom

Probably the main one driving everywhere, but if you drive and need to fill up your tank, he’ll be the one to get out and fill it then pay,,, he’s almost offended that you say you’re capable of doing so yourself, “babe, what am I here for?!”

Tries to eat in accordance with your dietary requirements (e.g. I’m vegetarian) if you guys have date night - or he’ll always have like mouthwash and gum so he can kiss ya later without making you feel uncomfortable!!

“Ooh babe, they have the ravioli ya like and the vodka gnocchi!! Okay, you order the ravioli, and I’ll get the gnocchi and we’ll split, yea?” “Hey Jaim, can we order fries too?” “Fuck yea!”

#jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt #phil dunster #jamie tartt love languages #tell me moreeee #i didn't proof read so gl bae

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cherryredstars · 3 months

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would you write married life hcs with simon i need some domestic fluff paired with angst please🥺😢

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Summary: Married life with Simon.

Word Count: 745 (Not Edited)

The ring he proposes with is gorgeous. It fits your finger perfectly, not catching on your skin once. It’s fashioned from his mother’s ring. His mother’s ring was also the ring Tommy had used to propose to his own wife. You carry the memory of four lost Rileys with you, and it is a weight you are proud to hold. Simon cannot think of a better person to share the weight with.

He spoils you rotten. Wants the best for his spouse and wants nothing less. He gives you random gifts. Brings you back souvenirs from his deployments. Takes you to your favorite restaurants. Stocks the kitchen with your favorite foods. Gives you access to all his bank accounts. He makes too much money from his high position and his long years of serving, the money might as well be spent on someone he loves. Someone who deserves the world.

He truly believes that you’re an angel. Someone sent him to hold him together. Every second he spends at home is with you. Follows you around like a lovesick puppy. He’ll stand with you in the kitchen as he cooks. He’ll sit on the edge of the bathtub or on the toilet seat as you do your skincare or get ready for the day. Lays on the couch or on the bed doing his own thing. As long as he’s in the same room as you, he’s content.

He wants to share your happiness. Wants to absorb everything good about you and have it stained into his soul. He feels that as long as you are in his hold, he can keep that sacred part of you safe. He worries whenever he hears a thump in the house, rushing into the room to find you hopping because you dropped something on your foot. It warms his heart, to have something so normal and domestic. He doesn’t know how he ever survived without you.

He has never taken his ring off. Not once. Not since you had placed it on his finger. He doesn’t take it off when he’s cooking. Doesn't care that the shampoo from his shower is making it soapy. Doesn’t mind that there is a slight bulge in his glove from where the ring still sits on his finger despite being against code. You’d have to kill him to pry that finger off his ring. But even in death, you’ll have to fight him for it.

Plans dates for the two of you. He wants you to know how much he truly cares for you. How grateful he is to announce to the world that he has a spouse waiting for him at home. Will never get tired of the privilege to have that. With all his time away from home, he wants to be able to spend that intimate, one-on-one time with you. Sometimes you wished he just stopped.

Marrying Simon means empty promises that he tries to apologize for by throwing money at it. It means excitedly texting him something and being disappointed when he replies two weeks later with a thumbs up emoji reaction. It means being suffocated when he’s here, and then drowning when he’s gone. It means being drained of everything within you because you keep giving it to a man who is never there. It means waiting in a restaurant in your best outfit for hours and going home with tears in your eyes and a message the next morning saying, Sorry, have to wrap some things up before returning home. See you in a few days.

Having Simon as a husband is like being a widow. It is spending nights in a cold bed alone, in a large house devoid of life. It is yearning every day for something and clinging on to the love you have. It is full of being bitter and understanding and tired of an endless cycle.

Being Simon’s spouse is full of debating and fighting with yourself. It is spending every day that he is away staring at the folder of divorce papers in your bedside drawer. It is wonder how you could ever think of divorcing him every day he is home. It is thinking that the Riley ring is a curse because everyday you feel like you are dying from its weight.

Wearing Simon’s ring makes you feel like you’ll just be a memory of another Riley he has lost. Another Riley he has sacrificed for his job.

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lavenderslabyrinth · 4 months

Text

A Sacrificial Game

King!Dragon x Reader

Masterlist

This is my first post since deciding to kick off this new account. It’s rewritten from an old story I had posted on here long ago once upon a time. I hope you enjoy~

CW: ♢ Mention of Near Drowning ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Abduction ♢

The coos of morning doves and the gentle brushing of branches against your bedroom window were quickly drowned out by the boisterous laughter and squabbling of your many siblings. Your attempt at trying to drown them out via the trusty quilt-over-head technique was quickly plundered as they burst through your sacred doorway. With energy only children can manage to conjure from the depths of hell at 8 in the morning, they jostled you around roughly, stealing away the comforting warmth you'd had. Surely, you'd thought, this was an act of merciless torture. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and, irritably, you managed to croak out a yip. "Ow! Off!" Your anger did nothing more than make them giggle as they lightly bruised you with their rough play. "Lemme sleep, dammit! Off! Get off!" Taking evident joy out of your misery, the damn gremlins only gave you a round of smug looks. They did relent, however it was truthfully only to avoid your flailing swats at their heads. “Momma said we ain’t eatin’ breakfast till you get up. So get up lazy" A chorus of agreements and more jostling only drew a strong eye roll from you. But, nevertheless, you shooed them off and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Normally they'd just eat without you, leaving the leftovers warmed in the oven to be picked at by whoever passed by, but today was a special occasion. It was your birthday. Normally birthdays were happy events full of gifts, smiles, and all things merry-making-- but this one was different. While the younger whelps scurried off to the old wooden table, none the wiser to the fate that you now had to face, a heavy weight hung over the heads of the adults in the house. The thickness of the air palpable as you stepped into the kitchen and saw the grim look on your mother's face.

The saying goes that a starving savage is less likely to ravage your home if you give it a single meal-- and such began the gruesome, superstitious tradition... Once a year, one unlucky village that bordered the human kingdom would be chosen to place the names of all it's unmarried, of-age residents into a box and perform a drawing. Whichever sorry soul was picked would be ripped away from their homes by the temple, never to be seen again. The nobility liked to call it one of the "highest of all honors" a commoner could receive. The common people? You call it human sacrifice.

At least, most of your people do. Despite that being so, the vast majority of the population feared the very notion of abandoning the ritual. Why? Because the entire purpose was to "sate the otherfolk's thirst for human blood." One sacrifice, one year free from their wrath.

Your skin crawled at the very idea of it all as you leant down, clumsy hands tying up the laces of your worn leather boots.

As a child, you believed every word that hung off of the elders' tongues down near the pub. The fascination and wonder of another terrifying world outside the kingdom's tall, stone walls ignited your naive little heart. But with age, it grew evident to you that they were no more than simple old widows and drunkards with nothing better to do with their remaining time than talk stories and scare little children with tall tales. How were you supposed to believe beasts, much less entire civilizations of them, would be satisfied by the blood of one person if they truly wanted to attack a meager village, much less an entire country? Who decided they even wanted that blood? It was an argument you’d tried to raise countless times with your village council only to have it shot down with a simple “Well the Chosen never return, do they?” It pissed you off to no end. It didn't even take two wrinkles in the brain to conclude that it was more likely the animals of the woods, the elements-- or worse, other humans that caused the sacrificed to meet their demise; but no point you made would ever change their stone cold hearts.

And as though your age wasn't enough to make this birthday sour, the drawing was to be held this evening. The irony of someone losing their life on the day of your birth was palpable. Taking your usual chair at the kitchen table, you noticed the way two of your brothers squabbled over the last roll. With spiteful retaliation, you plucked it from between them taking a slow, mocking bite right in front of their faces. Maybe next time they'd think twice before ganging up to practically assault you out of bed.

"(y/n)?" Your head snapped up to attention, meeting your father's gaze. "How are you feeling?" You swallowed the fluffy bread quickly shooting a quiet reply. "I'm alright. Would feel a little better if you guys would stop lookin at me like I'm headed to the gallows." The laugh you were awarded from him was dry, but it eased some of the tension in his weathered shoulders nonetheless.

"I suppose it is a bit stuffy in here for a birthday, huh?" Your mother piped up sheepishly, wiping her hands on the dishtowel that hung from a belt on her hip. "Say, why don't you go visit Alikar? Trade some of our tomatoes for a basket of peaches-- bring those back and I'll make a pie we can all have after the drawing, how does that sound?" The little heads in the room visibly perked at the idea of getting their grubby little paws on something sweet. It wasn't often you had the sugar for such things after all.

Dismissing the idea of having to attend the black box event, you gave her a gentle nod. "Sure, I can do that. Need anything else while I'm out?" You inquired, stuffing the rest of the bread into your mouth before your youngest brother could snatch it from your hand. "No, dear. Just finish your breakfast and we'll handle the rest."

After practically beating your siblings off the table with a stick to get your fill, you quickly washed up and plucked the basket from the floor. “I’m off!” You called, getting no discernible acknowledgement as the chaos in the house never ceased. No matter to you-- the pie would be well worth the trip ahead.

Uncle Alikar.

The man was a huge part of the reason you didn’t believe a lick of all that ‘savage otherfolk’ nonsense. As your feet scuffed along the well worn path, old memories bubbled up to the surface like froth from the babbling brook that ran beside you.

You were the eldest of your siblings which, consequently, meant that when you'd been a rumbling little runt there were no older kids to show you the ropes and your parents' first trial run at raising a whole little person. This always resulted in you tumbling headfirst into trouble, but one day it had gone a little too far. Your tiny body approached the ledge of the stream. The same edge you would use every summer to hunt tadpoles. But, unbeknownst to you, the soil that was far too saturated with yesterday's rain to hold your weight. Without warning, it crumbled beneath your little feet sending you hurtling down into the rushing waters below. The merciless current carried you faster downstream than your father could run and just when your little head was wrenched under the raging current, a large beast sprung into the water after you. Before you could even process what had happened, your little lungs were hacking up the water they're inhaled, the coughing doing little for the burn in your lungs.

At first it was all a blur, you could hear your parents shouting as well as another rumbling voice above you responding back to them. Your little legs dangling far above the ground as a muscular arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. Someone was... holding you? You blinked away the tears, looking up to be met with a mouth full of razor-like teeth, thick sopping wet fur, and bright, slitted eyes. Misunderstanding what was going on, you began to cry out in fear. You were absolutely terrified you were about to be eaten by the ravenous river monster your mother warned you about countless times in attempt to dissuade you from wandering near the water when they weren't watching you. Only when those large paws handed you off to your mother ever-so-gently did you begin to quiet back down "Are you alright now, sweetpea? Ol' Alikar didn't mean to spook ya. Poor thing." He was some kind of rakshasa or tabaxi, evident by the sopping tail that swayed in the water behind him and round, fluffy ears that tilted back with concern. Speaking of...

Your knuckles rapped against the wooden door, sending warm clunks into the cottage. It was a serene place far from the human village which was always surrounded by the sweet smells of fruit and scents of warm, freshly made bread. Not but a few seconds later the upper half of the door swung open and there, in all his striped glory, was Alikar himself. “There’s the birthday girl!” He greeted you, his smile full of sharp teeth. A sight that originally took some getting used to but was now synonymous with a second home. “Hey Uncle Al. Mama sent me down to get some peaches for a pie.” You raised your basket of tomatoes.

He only chuckled in reply. “Oh, I know, how else was I supposed to give you your gift?” His paw pushed the lower part of the door open, welcoming you inside-- the scent of herbs and butter wafting much stronger from within. Surprised, you could only follow dumbly after him at first, setting the basket down as you took a seat on his kitchen table.

“A gift? Since when do you have the extra funds to get me gifts?! Aren’t you saving for the wedding? What about--”

“Would you hush, child?” He laughed, taking amusement in your fretting. “You’re still new to the whole womanhood thing, what do you know about adult troubles?” You gave a halfhearted growl at him but had no argument to fire back at him. Even though you'd been considered an adult in human standards for quite a few years, Alikar did have more experience than you in that department.

"You get onto me about my finances but I don't see you moving out of your parents' home yet." He teased, carefully unloading every piece of fruit from the wicker basket with care. "Don't bully me! I'm plenty experienced in other things!" You whined. Snatching one of the many apples he'd left unattended. The crisp sweetness did little to nurse your slightly bruised ego but the coolness of the juice as it dribbled down you chin quenched plenty other, more satisfying needs. "Yeah? And what would your area of foreign expertise be? Apple thieving?"

You glared at his back, cheeks tinting "No! Like conversation! And courting."

"Pah!" He scoffed, soft paws stacking the soft, pink fruit into a neat arrangement. "Much good your 'experience' has gotten you, I am the only one getting married here out of the two of us." Okay. Ouch. "And I converse plenty well, thank you very much!"

The afternoon passed with similar banter as you stuffed yourself with whatever fruits Alikar let you get your hands on. In the end he had given you a carefully carved wooden totem of your favorite animal, peaches, and sent you on your way. Whatever wood the little figure was made from gave a faint, sweet scent when wet with water. A bit ironic considering how you met all those years ago but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You had asked him if he’d have wanted to come and celebrate with you and your family but, regretfully, he had to decline. As charming and kind as he was, the path to your home was far too close to the village for his comfort and the idea of one of your acquaintances or friends coming to celebrate as well and reporting him sent the hairs on the back his neck straight upward. It was no secret the village wasn’t excited about strange, new creatures given the black box tradition, so it was doubtful Alikar would be in the public eye anytime soon, as unfortunate as that was…

You didn’t realize how much time you’d wasted until the shadows began stretching longer, snuffing out much of whatever light the day had left for you. “Ah shit.” You mumbled. You'd definitely missed the drawing, and at this rate you wouldn't be able to eat sweets till the next morning. Speeding up from a mozy to a quick trot back up the hill was unpleasant to say the least, but damn if those thoughts of peach pie didn't motivated you to haul ass.

However, as you drew closer your eagerness was smothered.

Hunching down, you quickly used the cover of the thorny brush to peer out at the scene below-- The terrified cries of your siblings pierced through your chest.

“Where’s the girl?!” A man demanded, spear to your father’s throat and eyes unwavering as your mother pled, voice breaking with fear as her children clung to her skirts.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ bout.” Your father replied curtly, looking the assailant back in the face with matching fury and anger. “I've only got sons.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Only once before, in your entire life, had you heard such a chilling tone come from that man. You'd been no older than 12 when a suitor equal to your mother in age offered to pay a hefty sum for your hand in marriage. The cruel chill in his voice as he sent the man away stuck with you-- but it didn't seem like this scenario would have the same outcome.

“Have it your way.”

A pit knotted itself in your breast as your family’s pleas turned to screaming cries, the spear cutting into you father's shoulder without mercy. Everything seemed to move so slowly after that...

First, you'd prayed he'd give in, relenting your location to the angry mob that surrounded him-- but your father stayed silent. That same fury in his eyes unwavering as he stayed on his feet.

Second, you though, maybe, the crowd would believe they'd truly made a mistake. Maybe a (y/n) didn't live in this village. Perhaps they'd been mistaken-- but that hope was quickly snuffed out as the spear-wielding man reeled the weapon back again, poised to strike.

You hadn't even known what you were doing as you pushed through the thorny brambles. Didn't even register as your fingers curled around a plump peach from your basket. And certainly didn't realize the strength you'd shot through your arm as you slung the fruit straight into the back of the man's head.

The hard impact followed by the splatter of sweet juices dripping down his neck was followed only by a second of silence.

Then two.

Then three.

All heads turning in your direction....

Run.

It was nothing more than instinct as you dropped the precious wicker basket your mother had weaved to the ground-- Alikar's carefully nurtured peaches bruising in the dirt. You shot back through the thorns. Dress skirt shredding, legs practically minced as you rushed through the uncaring wild.

Everything blurred.

Heart racing, the sound of shouting, the thundering of feet right on your tail. It was so much, too much-- too soon. There was no where else you could go. You didn't even know where you were going. Run. Run. RUN.

And run you did, even as your calves burned and blood dripped down your skin, you flew through the woods in a desperate flurry. It was fruitless though. Your wreckless abandon being brought to a halt with a blistering pain that shot through your ribs. The last thing you saw was the sight of the ground coming right at you, and then? Darkness.

I was going to wait till I finished part 2 to post this part but I'm too excited and part 2 is about halfway written anyway :) Stay tuned!

pt. 2

#lavenderslabyrinth #teratophillia #monster x reader #x reader #monster fucker #dragon x reader #king!dragon x reader #forced marriage trope #fantasy romance #rewrite #teratophillia x reader

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luviemax · 4 months

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summers in spain- oneshot

a/n: my official apology for wtv happened in begin again (iykyk)

-> carlos sainz x female!reader, no physical descriptions of reader

masterlist

warnings: not proofread, as per always...

It's finally time for the Summer break. It feels like an ice age that you've been waiting for Carlos to come home. Well, home is home. You occupy yourself with relatively superficial things. You build Legos. You read. Yet, time still passes slower and slower, day by day as you eagerly await Carlos' return back home. Back into your arms, where he'd be safe. Safe from the piranhas of the paddock, or the flashing lights.

Naturally, you're overjoyed when he finally lands back home. In fact, he makes a suggestion, that the two of you should make a trip down to Madrid to visit his parents.

At first, you're slightly apprehensive. For one, the two of you have only been together for so long, and besides, what if his parents absolutely hate your guts? What if they don't think that you're good enough for him? Because you could swear that he was the best person in the world. Nothing would be adequate enough for him, in your eyes at least. But these insecurities vanished with the words falling from his lips.

"Amor. I've never had a doubt about you," he takes your arm and brings you to the couch, onto his lap, "not about this relationship. Not about you, as a person. Besides, if you make me happy, then they'll be happy for me. If they're making you uncomfortable, we'll leave at an instant. I promise." His words soothe you, in just the right ways. He breaks you in, and you agree to go on the trip.

On the plane, which was headed for Madrid, you're wracked with nerves. You've heard nothing about Carlos' high praises for his parents, yet the thought of actually meeting them made his stomach churn and blood run hot. Yet, the sensation of his arms around your waist grounds you, and consoles you in a way that no other person could. His lips against your forehead warms your insides and makes your heart sore, not with anxiety, but with love.

Carlos' driver, who he seems cosy with, comes to pick the two of you from the airport. The two of them make casual talk in the car, yet Carlos seems to effortlessly and simultaneously ground you and bring you back to Earth so simply, from the simple stroke of his fingers against your own hand.

Slowly but surely, Carlos' driver, whose name is Alvaro as you come to learn, pulls up to an absolutely breathtaking mansion. The walls are tall and the ceilings seem high, and the pillars uploading the house seem absolutely regal.

"Carlito!" His mother, Reyes, calls out from inside the house, "Oh, and you! You're absolutely gorgeous!" Her mother embraced you warmly. She's nicer than you anticipated. "Let Antonio handle all your luggage, Carlos will tour you around the house." Reyes thanks Alvaro as he leaves to park the car.

Carlos takes your hand in his own, which is warm and reassuring, and he begins to guide you around the house.

He shows you the spacious kitchen, the beautiful library, the warm living room, the large dining room, and last but not least...

"This is my bedroom." It feels like something sacred. The relics of his childhood are still there. The little racing cars, and the bigger remote control ones. Various Alonso posters plastered all over his room.

That night, you meet Carlos Sr. as well. You see where your boyfriend gets his finesse from. Carlos Sr. has a certain charm to him. He's nothing short of pleasant, although he retires to bed early, claiming to be tired from a long day.

You have a restful sleep that night, wrapped up in Carlos' arms, safe in his embrace.

The next morning, you're awoken by Carlos' lips against your foreheading, and his hands stroking your back. "Good morning amor. Get ready. I want to bring you somewhere." He guides you to the bathroom, where you get ready by putting on a baby blue sundress which you know Carlos loves. When you return to the room, you see him waiting for you on his bed, aimlessly scrolling around on his phone.

"You look beautiful." He stands up to carress your hips and give you a sweet, prolonged kiss. "Thank you. You're not looking bad yourself." You run a hand through his slightly damp hair. "Come, let's go." He takes your hand, and brings you through the house. The two of you greet his mother good morning, before leaving.

He brings you to the most stunning beach you've ever seen. "This is my safe space." He tells you, entangling his fingers in your hair as you rest your head on his chest. The two of you spend a few hours there, content with the simple silence that comes with the comfort of your relationship.

Carlos brings you everywhere. Throughout the course of your little getaway, he brings you to his favourite restaurants, his favourite little stores, and you can't help but love him even more for it. You love that he's being vulnerable enough to share these parts of his past life to you.

Ironically, when you're on the plane back home, you begin to miss what you were dreading just a week ago. Reyes and Carlos Sr. embraced you as their own family, and were nothing but welcoming to you.

When the two of you arrive back home, Carlos knows that you're the one.

He goes back and he starts shopping for rings.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fluff #carlos saiz smut #f1 x reader

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

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Little yellow 1900 cottage in Montrose, Colorado has a heart of stones in the front yard. 4bds, 2ba, $575K. The description reads, "It's not just a home, it's a lifestyle," and I have come to realize that means somethin's goin' on in there. Take a look.

There's a nice sun porch and it's decorated pretty fancy for a little cottage. Look at the gold ceiling.

Nice large living room and a very wide doorway to the dining room.

The dining room is huge and also has doors to the sun porch. I'm wondering if it was meant to be the living room.

The kitchen had a remodel at some point. There's a pantry/laundry room, too.

This area at the foot of the stairs is an office. It's really a flex space.

This is bathroom #1.

The primary bd. appears to be an addition or a former rec room. It's big and has a fireplace with rustic brick walls that have a very different look from the rest of the house.

This bedroom is cute. Look at those little windows. If you're into purple and pink you'll love the bedrooms.

The pink sitting room off this bedroom, has a door to the outside. It may have been the original front entrance and living room.

This is a Pooja Mandir, which loosely translates to a prayer room, a sacred space that's the heart of the home.

There's a shower in remodeled bath #2.

And, this bedroom has a cute dormer with a window seat.

At the back of the home is very large deck.

This structure is a private office, and next to it is a hot tub.

The brick structure looks like it's a separate space from the house and it looks like there's a covered area with a barbecue in the back.

There's also a large 2 car garage.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/222-S-2nd-St-Montrose-CO-81401/111197911_zpid/

#cottages #colorful homes #house tours #houses #home tour

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luveline · 2 years

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hi jade !!! i absolutely adore ur fics of eddie n r with kids they’re always so cute :((( like they fr warm my heart sm !!

if ur still taking requests could u pls write smn w r and roan coloring eddie’s tattoos? it’s totally cool if not !! much luv 🫶🫶🫶

hi yes of course tysm for ur request 🥺

You're curled up on the small couch with your head in a book when Roan runs full pelt into the living room. Eddie, sitting on the floor with his hair tickling your thigh, opens his arms to catch her.

"God, you're a bombshell," he complains as she lands, "and where have your socks gone?"

She digs her feet into him and laughs, a move that shows very much who's daughter she is.

She's not big enough to do any damage and still Eddie whines, turning his face to you to beg for some saving. "She's making ground beef out of my legs."

"You're made of beef?" you ask mildly, turning a yellowed page. "Like a cow."

"Moo," Roan says.

Eddie feels at once like he's been gravely insulted and proud of her for remembering what animal makes what sound. He settles on glaring at her until she moo's again, and then stroking her hair behind her ears with a sigh.

"Your hair is getting soooo long, mini me. Do you wanna haircut?" He pretends to snip at her hair with his fingers.

You actually close your book at that. "It's beautiful. I love how even when it's brushed the ends stay lovely and curled. And when you do the ringlets," you praise, sounding dreamy. You rake your fingers through Eddie's hair and goosebumps race down his arms. "Just like her dad's."

You kiss the top of his head and then stand. "I'm gonna heat up that soup I brought, okay?"

He reaches out to stroke your leg as you go.

Roan hums a song under his head, hands on his arm. She tickles his bicep without meaning to and he giggles like an idiot, wrapping his arms around her back to restrain her.

"You didn't answer my question," he tells her.

"Question?" she says. It's a mouthful of a word for her, he's surprised she can get through it.

"You want a haircut? It's almost to your tummy." An exaggeration. It's just below her chest. "If you cut it all your curls would come back."

"Like daddy's?"

"Kind of."

Roan hums some more and then climbs out of his lap without answering his question. He takes it as a no, anyhow, and isn't surprised. Her hair looks lovely either way, he'd just wanted to express that she has the choice.

Abandoned, Eddie closes his eyes and drops his head into the space where you'd been. He loves Sunday's like this because the cleaning's been done, Roan's clothes have been washed, and all there is to do is sit and listen to his two girls making noise. You flit back and forth in the kitchen buffeted by the sounds of cooking, the smell of soup rich and enough to make his stomach ache. How nice, to be cooked for. Roan bumps around in her bedroom.

"Do you want me to go out and get some bread?" he calls.

"There's enough!" you call back. "Grilled cheese en route."

"Oh god," he murmurs, voice quiet and thick with delight, "I'm spoiled beyond my wildest dreams here. Blessed, even, I-"

His dramatics are cut short by Roan once again catapulting into his lap. He groans at the impact, screwing his eyes closed to play dead.

A cold wetness moves over his skin. He worries she's spit on him, but then Roan presses a little harder and the nib of a pen becomes clear. He peels his eyes open and finds her colouring the puppet with her washables.

Roan couldn't care less at his condition, he finds, her small hands on his arm and turning so she can see the puppeteer and his demon. He'd worried when she was a baby that one day she'd get scared of his tattoos. They're not the most kid-friendly he could have chosen when he was nineteen.

Despite plans for a small 'R' somewhere safe, he hasn't had a tattoo since she was born. Money has either been too tight or too sacred; how could he spend it on himself? There's always dolls and houses and dresses to buy, always ice cream and days out and things she needs.

She's chosen a soft pink. His skin is just pale enough to show it.

"Whatcha doing?" he asks redundantly.

"Colouring."

"I can see that. Any reason?"

"I like pink most."

"I can see that, too," he says. Roan swaps one pink for another. She doesn't try very hard to stay in the lines and he's not bothered. When she colours the puppeteer's hand in a fiercer purple he's actually quite impressed.

"That is beautiful," he says, giving the top of her arm a squeeze.

"'Nother one?" she asks.

He bradishes his other arm. "Please, baby."

She tries to colour the bats in green and pink, almost like flowers. It doesn't really work, as they're almost solid blocks of colour, but it's a valiant effort and he thanks her for it with a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

She loves it, giving him one in return. The pen in her hand leaves a long line up his neck as she ducks in.

Roan pulls away with a beaming smile.

He takes a chance and cups her face in his hand. Or rather, his thumb, because her face is tiny. "Thank you, Roan. You're a good drawer, you know? You're really good."

She smiles some more, shy and happy and adorable. He's shocked at how lovely she is whilst looking like him. It doesn't make any sense at all.

"Roan, you want grilled cheese, princess?" you call.

Eddie caps her pen and pulls her up into his arms. She takes it for a cuddle and hugs him as he carries her to the kitchen, all heavy and sweet in the nook of his neck.

"My girl's an artist."

You melt at the sight. Table set and dinner plated, you throw the hand towel over your shoulder and stand as close to him as you can. "Nice tattoos, handsome," you say.

"She is! Yes. Maybe I can have some tattoos after dinner," you say, voice taking on the bubble affect of parentese.

"Yes!" Roan shouts.

"I think we're agreed," Eddie drawls. "Now for our feast. Thank you, my lady."

You flick his shoulder. "Yeah, you're welcome, hotshot."

more eddie and roan

#eddie and roan #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

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beachylupin · 6 months

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Don't You Want Me || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

second part to gotta go home here! there is literally no relief because it's essentially just a fight :-) let me know if you'd like to see more! <3 word count: 2.6k (short ik) warnings: swearing, drug use, fighting, angst, idk what else to say

Friday night girl’s nights were sacred. You both wore pajamas, and Robin brought music that was long forgotten once you were in the throes of a conversation whereas you provided an array of snacks that were devoured by the end of the night. It was fun, and honest, and it always ended with the two of you watching the sun rise.

Last week, your house was filled with girlish giggles, Elton John, and the smell of burning Jiffy Pop. As the sun rose, you rested your head on Robin’s shoulder.

“I think I like Steve,” you said quietly, and you meant it.

“I thought you thought he was an idiot,” she replied, resting her head on top of yours.

“I do,” you mumbled. “Jus’ a lovable idiot.”

“Do you forgive him about the Tammy thing?” She asked, adding, “I did. It was an honest mistake.”

“I probably should,” you mumbled, and Robin threw her arm around you. “I just makes me mad-”

“I’m fine,” she reminded you quietly. “It’d make everything a lot easier if you did.”

This week, girl’s night was at Robin’s house.

The burgundy BWM was parked outside of her house. Not anything out of the ordinary considering its owner worked with Robin, but your heart dropped when you realized that it was off instead of idling.

Steve was inside.

Your forgiveness resolution fell out the window as slammed the door of your own car a little harder than intended, grabbed your bag, and marched your way up to the door, letting yourself in.

“Robin?!” You called, not even bothering to take off your shoes. “Robin!”

She poked her head out from the kitchen, her smile fading as soon as she saw how red your neck was. “Hiii.” She sounded guilty.

“What the hell, Robin!” You hissed when she met you halfway, pushing you toward the entryway. “You said it was just going to be us!”

“It is just us!” She confirmed with an uneasy smile. “And Steve too,” she mumbled behind her teeth.

“Robin-”

“His mom and dad are gone,” she whined as you took off your shoes. “I hate thinking that he’s just alone in that house on a Friday night…”

“I don’t care-”

“Forgive him-” Robin was hissing as Steve rounded the corner, a bowl of popcorn and tapes in his hands.

“Oh, hey! I was wondering when you were going to show up!”

He seemed so casual, his face showing no malice about the last time you had spoken to him. His smile was as genuine as they come. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a Hawkins sweatshirt. He must’ve gotten the pajama memo.

“I brought two movies,” he continued, and you internally groaned, tuning him out.

Robin never lasted through movies. It was like her super power. She always fell asleep. You looked into the living room, noticing Robin’s nest already set up on the La-Z-Boy, leaving the sofa for you and Steve to share. Fantastic.

Robin nudged you with her elbow. “I know you like Stephen King,” she said, grabbing the bowl of popcorn from Steve. “We should do that one.”

She walked away before you could answer, shoving her mouth full of popcorn before plopping down on the recliner.

You glanced at Steve to find him already staring, movies in his hand.

“I wouldn’t have taken you as a horror fan,” he said, still smiling as he took a slight step toward you.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You were in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a scoop-neck tank top, knowing Robin’s house always ran hot. Not to mention, your hair was thrown up into a ponytail and you had no makeup on. You wanted to shrink.

“You okay?” He asked, his eyebrows raised. You simply nodded. “I’ll go pop it in then.” Steve squeezed your elbow, venturing into the living room.

You stayed there rubbing your elbow, knowing this was Robin’s way to try to make you talk to him. You glared at the back of her head before following Steve into the living room. You sat down, grabbing a throw pillow to hold to your chest. You cuddled up to the arm of the sofa, avoiding the middle as you curled your feet underneath you.

Steve sat next to you, not respecting the “middle” rule as closely as you did as threw his arms over the back of the couch. You scooted your feet further under you, trying not to slide toward him. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, glancing at you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. “I didn’t mean to intrude-”

“You didn’t,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’m fine.” You felt like your face was on fire.

“Yeah, Steve, she’s fine,” Robin said with a roll of her eyes. “Now, shut up. I’m trying to get scared.”

Within twenty minutes, soft snores left Robin’s mouth.

The grip on the pillow in your lap tightened, debating on whether or not you wanted to throw it at her.

You had let your foot slip within that time, the tips of your toes pressed against Steve’s warm thigh, not daring to move them in fear that he’d say something.

Steve slouched down, making your foot touch him more, his hand resting near the back of your head. You swallowed the nagging feeling to look at your foot, returning half of your attention to the boring movie.

“This movie is kinda dumb,” he mumbled as if he could read your mind.

You shrugged, glancing at him as you finally moved your foot away. “Jus’ a slow build up like the book.” He was a lot closer than you had thought, now sitting in the crack of the two cushions.

“What happens in the book?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do the kids live in the corn?”

“‘M assuming it’ll all happen in the movie,” you mumbled, your eyes back on the television. “No, they don’t live in the corn.”

“Then why is it called Children of the Corn?” He asked, now almost on your cushion.

“You’ll find out,” you said, glancing at him to see him staring, his attention no longer on the movie. “Shh.” You leaned your head against the arm rest, watching the television.

Steve sighed dramatically as he scooted over, his fist meeting his cheek as he propped his elbow on the arm rest. You didn’t need to look at him to know his lips were pouty from the smush of his cheek.

“Is anyone supposed to die?” He asked, his voice muffled from his hand.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“When?” He scooted back, crossing his arms again, his leg bouncing.

“Hopefully soon,” you muttered, ignoring how he slumped further into the couch, groaning.

You could feel your leg slipping back toward his even closer thigh so you sat up, hugging your knees into your chest and using them as a chin rest.

The movie wasn’t all that interesting, but you held onto it like it was saving you from a conversation with Steve.

An honest conversation with him.

Steve sighed again, and you could feel him staring at the side of your face.

“Should we smoke?” He asked, half pulling a joint out of his pocket. “I still have the one you gave me.” You looked at him with your eyebrows raised. “Might make it more interesting…?”

“You never smoked that?” You asked incredulously, looking from a sleeping Robin to Steve. “She’d be pissed.”

“She doesn’t need to know,” he said, tone lilting on teasing. “Come on.”

He pushed himself up, his hand outstretched toward you. You didn’t take it, glancing at Robin again.

“Fine,” he said, shrugging as he leaned toward you, his hand on your knee. “More for me.”

With that, he was gone, his fingers dancing off of you as left the house out of the patio door in the kitchen, joint between his teeth.

Reluctantly, you stood, the pillow landing on the floor with a quiet thud. You followed him, your hands immediately on your bare arms as soon as you stepped through the door.

“‘S chilly,” you mumbled, watching as he lit it from his seat on the stoop. You sat next to him, watching as he took a drag, lips pursed around the joint.

“Do you want my sweatshirt?” He asked, passing you the joint between his fingers. You shook your head, accepting the joint. “Are you sure?”

“I like it cold,” you mumbled, joint between your lips. You felt his eyes on you as you took a drag, blowing it out slowly. You shivered slightly with the sudden high, handing it back to him.

“You don’t seem like you like the cold,” he said quietly.

“‘S not bad,” you mumbled. The high hit you immediately, as it often did, and you felt almost panicked. This is what Robin wanted. This was the chance to forgive him.

You needed water, your mouth becoming drier and drier. His knee bumped up against yours, and you cleared your throat, trying to think of what to say. “How’s Family Video?” You immediately felt stupid, peeking at him.

Steve glanced at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “You want to talk about work?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “How is it working with Robin?” You didn’t care how it was working with Robin. You already knew. It was a pain in the ass getting her to actually concentrate on the matter at hand, but once she was on task, she was the best.

His eyebrows remained furrowed as he took another drag, passing the joint back to you. “Um,” he hummed, licking his lips slightly. “It’s okay, I guess. She’s really good when she’s focused.”

You laughed through your nose, nodding knowingly. “That’s exactly how I’d describe it, too.”

You nursed the joint, ignoring how Steve watched you. A quiet lull came over the two of you as you passed the joint back, tucking some fallen hair behind your ears.

You felt like you needed to say something, but the joint wasn’t helping. All you could think about was the party. You sighed, glancing at him again. Steve was staring off into space, letting the smoke curl around his face. You looked over your shoulder, seeing Robin still asleep on the chair.

Poor Robin. You still needed to forgive him for what he did at Jason’s party, but the petty part of your brain latched onto it. You knew Robin said to forgive him, but how could he do that to her? How could he potentially hurt her like that? How could he do that to you? Letting Tammy be all over him in front of you. You knew that he liked the game. It had been confirmed.

Now high, you felt your jaw tighten the longer you thought about it.

“How’s Tammy?” You asked, staring at him fully for the first time that night. You knew it was a stupid question, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

Steve stopped mid-toke, looking at you. “What?”

“How’s Tammy?” You asked again, not breaking eye contact. You felt like you were floating, your heart beating fast. Your mouth was painfully dry.

“Thompson?” He narrowed his eyes, facing out toward the lawn again as you hummed your response. “Why?”

You shrugged, taking the joint from him, putting it between your lips for a small puff. “You just seemed… close at Jason’s. I figured you know how she was doing.”

“I’m assuming she’s back in Nashville,” he said, his tone clipped. “Why do you care?” You shrugged again. “I’m sorry that you’re jealous-”

You scoffed, shoving the joint in his hands. “Fuck off,” you said pointedly, patting his knee as you stood.

“What?!” He said, dropping it on the ground. “You’re the one who admitted it!”

“You don’t need to throw it in my fucking face, Steve!” You shouted back. “You knew I liked you, and you fucked her anyway!”

“What?! Nothing happened!” Steve shouted. “You’re jealous about nothing!” He grabbed your hand, squeezing warmth into it. “Nothing!”

You rolled your eyes, shaking his hand off yours. “I don’t believe you.” You went back inside, trying to slide the door shut before he caught it. You huffed, stomping into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

“Listen, I’m sorry, ” Steve said, following you into the kitchen. When you didn’t reply, he sighed. “I really am, but-”

You huffed, back to him as you filled a glass of water. “I’m not listening to your bullshit apologies-”

Something in Steve snapped, and he grabbed your wrist and tugged it hard enough for you to stop and look at him.

His mouth was small, pursed with anger.

“They are not bullshit,” he bit back, stepping toward you. “Nothing about this is bullshit.”

“You’re bull-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” His voice was low. A warning.

You could test him if you wanted, but you decided against it, narrowing your eyes. “What’s up your ass, Harrington?”

“I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re not even giving me the time of day!” He nearly shouted, his voice only going quiet when you glared, pointing at a sleeping Robin. “I didn’t know!” He pleaded as you ripped your arm away.

“You’re just saying that because I caught you!” You hissed, slamming your cup down on the counter. “You like fucking with girls, don’t you?”

“What?!”

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb, Steve,” you guawaffed, ripping your hand away from him. “You knew I liked you. There’s no way you’re that oblivious.”

Steve scoffed, stepping toward you. “How am I supposed to know that when you avoid me like the plague?”

You clenched your jaw as you huffed through your nose, your face angling towards him. “Would you- Would you want to talk to me if I had a boy hanging off of me like he was a growth at every party? Would you, Steve?!”

“Well, no-”

“And would you enjoy it if I- I don’t know- kissed every boy I saw in the general vicinity of you and I when we were together… at the same place… going somewhere together?” You enunciated the last word, your whisper turning harsh. You stepped closer, your breath fanning his face. “How would you feel if I fucked someone after you left?”

“Oh my god! Give it a rest!” He finally shouted, hands meeting his hair as he backed away from you. “I didn’t fuck her! I haven’t slept with anyone since Nancy! Get over it, okay?!”

You scoffed, a sinking feeling rising in your chest. You crossed your arms. “Yeah, right.”

As much as you didn’t want to believe him, you did. It would’ve been easier to just not believe him. To think that he’d been a womanizer after your winter makeout was far easier than thinking that he’d done nothing wrong.

“You know,” he said, his voice not as loud, hands still in his hair. “Maybe you’re the oblivious one.” You clenched your jaw, still staring at him. “I’ve been trying to make it obvious all night, and you haven’t picked up on anything.” He swallowed. “Don’t you want me?”

Your heart stopped. He liked you? Just as you opened your mouth, Robin stirred, lifting her head to glare at you and the back of Steve’s head. “You didn’t smoke without me, did you?”

You shut your mouth, squaring your jaw. “Nope,” you said stiffly. “Just grabbing water.”

You grabbed the cup off the counter, glancing at Steve before going back into the living room, sitting in your same seat, this time as small as possible.

Steve cleared his throat, slowly turning around. Under Robin’s close watch, he sat back down, respecting the middle rule a bit more closely.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #gotta go home #don't you want me

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fiapartridge · 1 month

Text

he's a stranger! | mack + grace 🌷💌⭐️

macklin x hughes!sister

summary: grace wants to bring macklin to the sacred lake house and her brother, jack is not having it.

fia's notes 💌: soooo much dialogue, like no mack in here SORRY this is like a siblings + trevor and cole imagine lol <3 enjoy!

not proofread

In the heart of Michigan’s summer magic, nestled among towering pines and tranquil waters of Lake Michigan, stood the sacred Hughes family lake house. Throughout the year, the Hughes siblings would be spread far apart in different stretches of the country, one of them not even residing in the country, but at this lake house and on this plot of land, none of that mattered. Because for two full months, the four of them were there together, and it was always better than the last.

“What do you mean you’re inviting him here?” Jack yelled from the living room as Grace rolled her eyes, stirring a pitcher of ice cold lemonade from the kitchen. She stood in a forest green triangle bikini top and jean shorts, fanning herself from the scorching hot summer heat that was seeping into the house.

“It means exactly that, Jack,” she shrugged, throwing the lemonade into the fridge and fetching a container of strawberries in return. “And you better not be mean to him!”

Jack scoffed, peeling himself off the couch, his bare chest exposed as he stumbled into the kitchen. “You haven’t even met the kid yet! What if he’s crazy? You’re just gonna invite some stranger into the house like it’s nothing?”

“He’s not a stranger, Jack. You’re being dramatic.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re being under-dramatic!”

Grace laughed, shaking her head as she cut the strawberries into halves. “Oh, wise words, Mr. Harvard.”

“Very funny. You know, these college dropout jokes are getting real old.”

“Can’t be a college dropout if you never went to college, Jack,” Luke butted in, stomping down the stairs as he opened the fridge and immediately grabbed the lemonade Grace had just made.

“Hey! I just made that!” Grace shouted, her small knife pointing in Luke’s direction.

With his hands up, Luke dropped the pitcher onto the counter. “Hey, no need for weapons!”

“Can you guys shut up?” Quinn complained, Trevor in tow, as they sat on the barstools at the kitchen island. “We can hear you guys fighting from the lake.”

“Oh, did someone make lemonade?” Trevor asked, ushering the pitcher towards his direction. “Grab me a cup, Grace?”

“You’re 23, grow the fuck up and get your own cup,” Grace scolded, her hands crossed over each other as Trevor stood up, a frown etched onto his face.

“Someone’s angry,” Trevor mumbled to Luke as he stretched for a cup at the top cabinet.

At that point, everyone was angry about something. Jack didn’t want Macklin to come, Grace wanted the complete opposite, Luke was deprived of the lemonade and was now watching Trevor sip it with ease, Quinn was tired of everyone’s bullshit, and Trevor got yelled at by the youngest Hughes, but truth-be-told, he was more scared of her than anyone else in the family—other than Ellen.

“Guys!’ Jack announced from his spot by the entryway of the kitchen. “Tell me I’m not crazy—”

“You’re crazy—”

“I haven’t even said anything yet, Luke,” Jack scolded as Luke shrugged his shoulders in response, diving into something on his phone. “Okay! Gracelynn here wants to bring a complete stranger to the lakehouse. That’s stupid, right?” he asked.

“Well, haven’t you done that, too? Like all of the girls you’ve brought here,” Cole added from the backdoor, fanning his red sunburn in search of the aloe vera that Grace restocks in the fridge every summer.

“That doesn’t count.”

Grace scoffed, her back resting on the cool counter behind her. “Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because you’re a hypocrite! Macklin’s gonna come here and you guys are going to enjoy him—or at least pretend to.”

Luke stood up, his head pointing up from his phone. “We’re talking about Mack?”

“Yes?” Jack agreed confusingly, his brows furrowing at the younger boy.

“I thought this was some random dude! I’m on G’s side.”

“Oh, come on!” Jack groaned. “He is random!”

“Don’t act like you weren’t complimenting his puck protection like two weeks ago,” Luke scoffed, stealing a sip of lemonade from Trevor’s cup.

“Hah!” Grace jumped. “You like him! Admit it!”

“I don’t like him,” Jack huffed. “But... you can bring him if you want, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Grace asked, her hand cupping her right ear. “I don’t think I caught that.”

“You can bring him,” he groaned, defeated.

Putting down her knife, Grace jumped up and down before running towards Jack and throwing her arms around the boy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Mirroring her actions, he threw his arms around Grace. “He better not be a weirdo and murder us in our sleep.”

“He won’t! Well, I don’t think he will,” she smiled. “Also, you’re really sweaty.”

“Oh well, fuck you then.”

#macklin celebrini x hughes!sister 🌟#jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield

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after-witch · 11 months

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What's your ultimate yandere fantasy? Who's your yandere, what's the situation? What's your favorite ending?

I don't know about ultimate fantasy but...

My absolutely #1 yandere-scenario-I-like-to-think-about is not being allowed to go somewhere/do a specific thing because I'm not allowed to leave the house/cabin/basement/wherever I'm being held.

But! It's not just that you're told now. It's that you hope that you will be told yes, you think you're going to go, and then at the last minute it is all ripped away from you.

Like, say Chrollo bought you tickets to this very specific opera performance. A once-in-a-lifetime type performance, let's say. And you're looking forward to it, despite your general and understandable unhappiness at being kidnapped. You and Chrollo prep for it, on your insistence. You research the opera's history, the production, you watch a filmed version so you can compare it. Suffice to say, you are getting hyped.

But you misbehave a few days before the show, in a big way. Maybe you get physically aggressive, maybe you absolutely tear into him in a way that crosses your normal bitter banter, whatever it is, you fuck up enough that he tells you that you'll be staying in the hotel for the rest of the week.

You don't think about it much. You assume he means that your planned excursions to the market in town, the dinners out at restaurants, are cancelled. But the opera tickets don't even cross your mind, because that isn't some normal evening out for the two of you. It's The Event. The thing you've been anticipating for months. The thing you two have discussed over dinner, on the sofa, a shared. It's sacred, isn't it?

Except it's not. And Chrollo says nothing about it all day, but you figure, he's just being pissy about whatever it is you did and he won't be able to resist acting like his usual (irritating, but still) self once you guys leave for the theater.

And you get ready for the evening out, going above and beyond what you normally bothering doing. You dress in something stunning that he bought for you that you normally ignore, you dab on perfume or cologne, you wear makeup and go all out if you like it, you put on jewelry, etc etc. The point that is you Look Fucking Stunning, and you feel it too. You do a little spin in the mirror and really, you look good.

And you walk out of the bathroom, expecting Chrollo to say something, expecting to see him there in his tux, imagining that he'll want to slide up behind you and press his lips against your neck or something like that.

But he's just sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, wearing a casual outfit, nothing he'd normally wear on a fancy evening out.

He glances up at you and raises his eyebrows, and says something like, "What are you dressed up for, darling?"

And you sputter a little, because--he's not stupid, is he? You point out that it's the night of the opera, like he just forgot, even though there's a growing deep pit in your stomach that tells you exactly what's going on.

He lets you finish your little explanation and takes a sip of his coffee and reminds you that he said you weren't going anywhere this week.

But you insist. He couldn't have meant the opera. It's something you've been waiting for... for weeks! Months! You even go so far as to grab the tickets and hold them out and really, he doesn't have to go this far, but he will to show you that he means it. He'll stand up and calmly walk over to you and ask for the tickets.

And you'll hold them out, because you feel stunned, and he just takes them and rips them and it's like he ripped your heart in half too.

Your cheeks burn. Tears prick at your eyes. You feel heartbroken. More than that. You feel stupid, for getting your hopes up, for anticipating doing something with him. For wanting to go in the first place.

There's a horrible humiliation in it, too. You're all dressed up. Freshly showered, wearing something elegant, jewelry around your neck, hairspray or pins or whatnot keeping your hair and any ornamentation in place. You thought you looked good. You thought he would compliment you. You thought about how you might look tonight, on the arm of Chrollo dressed similarly in his tux. But what will you be doing instead?

All you can do is whip yourself around and run into the bathroom, locking the door and turning on the tub to drown out your ugly, self-pitying sobs.

Or maybe you get up the nerve to ask your kidnapper (and this scenario I've done with just about everyone that I think about) for something special--going to see a show, a book market, whatever--and they reject you and it hurts so much but what else can you do?

Or maybe it's your birthday, and you think that you will get to do something special. You ask about it beforehand, and oh, they don't want to hurt your feelings, so they say "they'll think about it." If you were a little kid asking your mom if you can go to the zoo on the weekend and she told you this, you know that this means "no." But you're not a kid anymore. You're an adult in an impossible, psychologically damaging scenario, and so you cling to this "I'll think about it" like a life line in a raging sea.

Your birthday comes and you're on pins and needles. They'll do it, won't they? It's your birthday, of course they will, of course of course... But when it comes time to open your gift or start the day, your request is nowhere near being fulfilled, and you swallow hard and work up the courage to ask--But what about...?

And oh, honey. No. You aren't going there.

And it makes your lips tremble and your cheeks burn and your chest sting, and it doesn't matter what else they got you or what they say--you wanted this one thing, special, for your birthday and you didn't get it and you'll never get it because you're never going to live a normal life again. And it hurts, hurts, hurts.

The general idea, for me, is absolutely perfect for working up the scenario to a fever pitch of emotion, boiling and boiling until it boils over and it's enough to make your chest hurt, enough to make your face scrunch up all twisted and ugly, enough to make you cry hot tears.

#yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere chrollo #what can I say I like scenarios that make me ugly cry

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