#room 503
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#weirdcore#oddcore#glitchcore#glitch aesthetic#glitch edit#liminal edit#liminalcore#liminal spaces#hospitalcore#hospital bed#hospital aesthetic#medicalcore#medcore#feverdreamcore#unreality#E unit#room 503#marigold hospital#june 2023
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a/n: cue me listening to the same secret time over and over to put me in the right mindframe for this bc I don’t have either of the cards for the AB set for this goddamn FISH – im still learning about him/specifically abysswalker raf as well bc I know nothing outside this audio so there are indeed going to be some growing pains uwu im still learning his voice but im in love w him <3
Wrapped in Moonlight
AO3 || Rafayel x Fem!Reader || Soft Smut, Mild Angst || 3, 503 Words
additional tags: accidental mask kink, fingering, vaginal sex, first time having sex [w/ e/o], first kiss [w/ e/o], rafayels acc so in love with you, i like the moon and havent ever had to write a lot of water motifs before
The dull thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears has never been louder, not until this moment here, with you.
Your eyes look up at him from where you lay on your bed, teeth lightly worrying over your lips as you take a deep breath, shaking your head as though to shake away the words that had his feet planted firmly on the ground. You’d taken to summoning him more often as of late and even if he could, he would never reject your requests. Rafayel knew that it was dangerous but he couldn’t think to care, beginning to crave being by your side in ways that drove him mad.
“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. Please, just forget I even said anything,” you begin to plead, averting his gaze and retreating further into your lush sheets. Sheets he knows the feeling of, the barely there warmth that his fingertips longed to feel, his resolve cracking every time you sleepily ask him to stay until you fall asleep.
“Your Highness doesn’t think I’d really be able to forget such a request, does she?” he decides to say instead, wanting to lean into a slightly more playful side of his persona to cope with the swell of emotions crashing down into his chest.
You stay silent and he decides to take this opportunity to step closer. His gloved hand parts the beaded curtain, your breath catching in your chest as you see the way the candle’s light faintly illuminating his face. Rafayel’s eyes are intense, something you’ve always noticed when he looks at you. All thoughts begin to cease as soon as his eyes meet yours, leaning in closer to you.
“Did you really think that I’d forget that you asked me to kiss you?”
The words hang heavy between the two of you, an unnamed but not unnoticed tension sitting on your shoulders once again. It felt like the two of you were constantly doing some song and dance, skirting around the way you both felt about each other. He looks like he’s got something more to say, watching you intently before stepping away. The clicking of the curtains gives you something else to focus on as you try to still your erratic heartbeat, hearing him draw the curtains to your room open at the same time as him blowing out the candles.
He stands in your window for a moment, the moon’s light wrapping around him so intimately you can’t help but be jealous. You shift in your bed, unconsciously crawling towards him. The sound makes him turn to look at you, hues coloured with something you can’t quite understand. You think you’ll drown in the depths of them but you can’t be bothered to care. If it meant being able to touch him, even for just a moment then you’d be more than willing to suffer that consequence.
“Rafayel, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just didn’t think before I spoke.”
And you couldn’t, not when he looked at you like he wanted to devour you or whenever he’d touch you gently to reassure you of his presence.
Silence and tension continue to colour the air between the two of you and you have a fleeting thought that this might be the last time you ever see him. You couldn’t ever summon him again, not after leaving things like this. Rafayel can feel your eyes flitting over his figure, imagines that you’re committing his features to memory.
“It’s quite the opposite,” he admits after some time, long strides closing the distance between the two of you in no time.
You find yourself being pushed back against the bed. Slowly, Rafayel pushes you to lay on your pillow, staring up at him in the moon’s light. He looks ethereal like this and you can’t imagine how you’re still capable of any sort of thinking right now.
A slight chuckle leaves his lips at the sight of your eyes widening. His hand goes to cup your face, leaning in so close your noses would be touching were it not for that infuriating piece of leather that keeps your breaths from intermingling. You have half a mind to ask him again, this time in the form of a wish to see if he’ll accept but you feel your mind go blank as you feel him press his face against your neck.
“What are you-”
Your words devolve to gasps, hands going to cling onto his shoulders as you feel him periodically press a little harder against your skin. If you close your eyes and really focus you think you can feel his lips pressing against the leather, kissing you through his mask. His breath rings in your ear, you trying to keep your gasps quiet to avoid drawing attention to your chambers.
“Fulfilling Your Highness’ wish. Is that not what you wanted?”
You know that even this much is more than you could ever ask for, Rafayel always watching you cautiously whenever your hands would near his mask. You understand that he has his reasons for privacy and you would never ask him why but now, you’re just desperate to feel his lips on your skin, desperate to know if it’s as good as you’ve fantasized about. The only solace you get is the warmth of his body seeping through his clothes, teasing the tips of your fingers as you try not to act desperate for more of his touch.
“I can feel you holding back. Don’t tell me Your Highness is getting greedy?” he laughs breathily, the slight pant in his voice unnoticed by you with how divine it feels to be under him.
“I don’t want you to hate me,” you manage to mumble, biting back a slight moan when you feel his arm creep under your back and push you closer to his face.
“Hate you?”
The words leave his throat almost bloody. Just the sheer thought of hating you made his stomach churn, murky waters of his affection for you maddened that you could ever think such a thing. His hands tighten their grip on your body to a way that’s almost painful, looking up at you with a look that has so much want in it that it steals the breath out of your lungs.
“I could never hate you.”
His hair tickles your throat as you feel him settle against your neck, nuzzling into you and resting his hand on your waist. You try to turn to face him but the weight of his body stops you, Rafayel giving you a sound of disagreement.
“I told you already. It’s quite the opposite.”
You try to ask him to clarify, about to open your mouth when you he quickly gets up. He looks at you quickly before going to look around your room, shaking his head good naturedly at the slight furrow of your brows and parted lips. You watch him rummage through your things, getting even more confused when he returns with a strip of ribbon between his fingers.
He crawls over your body again, tilting your chin with his knuckles. You think you’re imagining it in the low light but the apples of his cheeks seem tinted red. Curious, you bring your hand up to the side of his face. You’re glad that he doesn’t seem to be flinching away from your touch. A smile graces your lips when you feel how warm his face is, Rafayel now pulling away from you slightly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, a slight pout in his voice.
“You’re warm,” you laugh, bringing your hand closer to his face.
Your fingers brush against his ear, sure with how warm they are that he’s bright red. Your fingers trail down the curves, nail tracing the shape of his jaw down to his collar. He doesn’t shy away. Instead, his hand goes to grab your wrist, the ribbon tickling your skin as he leans in closer.
“This is your fault. You know that, right?” he scolds lightly.
“If it weren’t for you my heart wouldn’t feel like a hurricane over the ocean. Do you feel that?”
He brings your wrist over to rest on his chest, your palm resting over his heart. True to his word you can feel his heart pounding under your fingers. He presses his chest against you, brows furrowing as your fingers press against him.
“You should be more understanding, Your Highness. You can’t just do these things to people and leave them washed up on the beach during low tide. It’s cruel.”
The way he pitches his voice in your ear makes you swoon and you’re glad you’re already laying down. Your knees feel weak and you barely register his thumbs tracing a smooth line across your cheek. You’re both so close to each other that you’re suffocating in his presence.
“Are you willing to face the consequences?” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
Weakly, you nod. With this, he brings both his hands to your face and suddenly you have your vision obscured by the ribbon he pulled out earlier. You bring your hands up to reach for it, immediately stopped by his strong grip.
“You said you’d be willing to accept it. You trust me, don’t you?”
His voice is raspy, laced with something more than just the question he’s asked you. There’s a weight to his words, something dragging down the vowels and accentuating the bite of his consonants. Your breath is caught in your throat as you wait for him to finish tying the ribbon behind your head, whimpering softly when he brings his thumb to press against your bottom lip.
Forced to wait, you try to imagine what he might do now. Your mind runs wild, barely listening to the sounds around you when you feel his weight on your body again. You reach out for him but gasp when you feel his lips press against your bare skin. The sound is indecent and you’re embarrassed you were even capable of making it but when you try to hide it you feel him bite you, squeaking in response.
“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear your voice. Don’t you think I deserve a bit of a reward for this?”
He continues to litter your skin in featherlight kisses, and you realise that his clothes don’t seem as thick as they usually are. You can feel his skin through the thinner layers, about to say something when his lips press against yours. It’s soft, barely there but the contact is enough to make your mind spin. You get the sense that he’s testing your boundaries and before he can pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, kissing him more insistently this time.
“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, but I think it’s more exciting this way, don’t you think? This way, you’re forced to guess what I’m going to do next to you,” he breathes against you when he finally pulls back.
“You just like teasing me,” you mutter, scared to admit just how much you liked this and wanted him to keep going.
“I’m just trying to get revenge on you. You’ve been teasing me too! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this.”
He starts to trail kisses down your neck again, sucking gently against your collar. As much as he would like to, he can’t leave any marks on your skin. Something even semi-permanent like that seems far too cruel for someone like him to leave on someone like you. He reveres you and you can feel it in the way he kisses you, showering your body in an affection he’s never felt for anybody else.
“Rafayel – please –” you whimper, his name coming off your tongue his own siren song.
“Please what? I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me,” he hums, hand going to play with the fabric beginning to bunch under your waist.
He slots himself between your legs and your knees rest against his hips. You wish you could see him, look at the expression on his face. You wish you could watch him press kisses to your skin, watch his fingers tighten against you the way they are now, the way his nails scratch lightly against your skin between the slits of your nightgown.
“More, please,” he hears you ask weakly. “I need more of you. Rafayel? Please?”
He thinks he should tease you more but considering your current state and his own desperation he decides not to. Instead, he pushes up the fabric on your legs slowly, trying to see if you’ll stop him. When you don’t and instead try to egg him on by making it easier for him, he lets his hands rest on your thighs now laid bare for his hungry gaze.
“Are you sure? This is really something you want?”
The question is desperate, Rafayel not knowing if he wants you to stop him or not. His body longs to be pressed against yours, to make you say his name that prettily over and over again. He thinks he’ll die if he can’t have it, kissing lower and lower over the fabric on your chest to convince you to say yes.
He doesn’t know that he doesn’t have to fight that hard for you.
You clasp your fingers with his, bringing them to rest on the inside of your thighs. He’s glad he can’t see the look in your eyes, knowing that if he did it’d make all of his resolve crack if this is how bold you’re already being without being able to see the effect you have on him.
Tentatively, he brings his fingers closer to the heat burning between your legs. It doesn’t take him long to feel the damp spot between your legs and recognise that it’s getting damper with each kiss he gives you. You start to whine as his fingers tease your slit through your underwear, your body feeling things you didn’t know you could feel just with his touch.
“I didn’t know you were capable of such dirty things Your Highness.”
Despite his teasing words, you can tell he wants it just as much when he slips his fingers between the fabric and your body, fingers haphazardly exploring your body as he kisses your lips again. He swallows each moan you give him desperately, relishing in the whimper you give him when his fingertips start circling your clit.
“You’re the one doing this to me,” you whine, hips bucking against his palm as his fingers slip inside.
“You’re the one who started this. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to,” he mumbles against your neck.
Your moans are louder now and as much as he’d love to have everyone hear how good he makes you feel he also would hate it if your maid came in and saw what was happening. He covers your mouth with his free hand, ignoring the way it feels to have your gasps pressed up against his palm. He wants to ruin you, make you cry and scream from pleasure and have you be his for the rest of time but here, in the quiet of your bedroom he’ll settle for just this for now.
His hand stays focused, letting you moan and gasp into his palm as he fingers you. You feel his palm rest against your body, thumb replacing his finger as he the heel to rest against your core. He can make out gasps of his name when he hits a certain part inside of you and decides it’s too cruel to keep your mouth covered like this. You immediately moan his name, quieter this time to avoid being heard by your staff.
You clench around his fingers, the hand not bracing against his chest going to grab his wrist. Rafayel gives you a breathy laugh and you bury your face against his neck, continuing to moan and plead for him quietly.
“Please – Rafayel – I –“
Your own words are cut off quickly by your impending orgasm, biting into his shoulder to try and hold back your noises as your hips arch into him. The bite of your clothes against your skin as you writhe does nothing to impede the feeling of his hand on your cunt, Rafayel’s voice gently talking you through your orgasm. Stars litter the space of your eyelids, Rafayel’s arm coming to hold you against him.
When you finally come down you find yourself placed carefully in Rafayel’s lap. He’s taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, gently tracing shapes on the skin of your lower back. Your blindfold is still on but you don’t doubt that the hard planes of your bed is Rafayel and when you hear his voice come from just above you you know you’re right.
“You’re awful to me, did you know that?” he muses, groaning slightly when you reposition yourself slightly and brush up against his cock.
“Stop that! I can’t believe you right now.”
“I’m just trying to get comfortable! This is just as much your fault as it is mine,” you say hazily.
You sit up on your knees, carefully putting your arms around his shoulders. You reach behind yourself to touch him, shuddering at the gasp he gives you against your arm. You feel his tip prodding gently against your opening, sinking down slightly. When you hear him gasp again you know you have him where you want him.
“You really want this?” you ask him huskily, mirroring his words from before.
Your hand rests on his cheek and you can feel him nod, continuing your slow descent onto his lap. It takes you a second to adjust to his size, hugging his neck tighter as you moan. His hands come to rest on your hips and he shifts slightly to create a better angle for himself. This makes him sink into you just the slightest bit deeper, you whimpering pathetically as he starts a slow, languid pace thrusting into you.
“Rafayel!” you gasp, hands bunching in his hair as you let him dictate the pace.
“Shh, shh. It’s alright, Your Highness. I’m here for you. Don’t worry – I’ll make you feel good. You know I will,” he mutters into your ear, continuing his gentle grind into you.
For the umpteenth time you wish that you could see him. For now, you have to sate yourself with his pretty moans and gasps, the way he feels inside of you and the affectionate kisses he peppers across your skin. Thanks to his pace you feel yourself coming to a slow build of your orgasm, his soft words of praise and coaxes going straight to your cunt. He groans every time you clench around him, the feeling of your pussy finally being wrapped around him making it hard for his mind to stop swimming.
He angles his hips to find that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, bringing a hand down to your clit despite how much he loves holding you because he knows he’ll love the feeling of you cumming around him more. When you give him a sharp gasp he knows he’s found it, thrusting more insistently. You grind against his pelvis, not wanting it to be over too quickly but still desperate for your release.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Rafayel asks, pulling you out of the depths of your stupor just barely.
“I can feel it. You’re getting so tight around me – if you squeeze me like this then I’ll cum too. It’s okay, just let go. I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I? You’ve already done so well. Just a little bit more, okay?” he coaxes, the sound of his voice tipping you over the edge.
You cum with a broken cry of his name, holding onto his shoulders tightly. It takes him just a couple more strokes inside of you to cum himself, unable to think of anything but filling you up and claiming you as his in this small way. The two of you sit together, coming down from your shared high. You whine a little about still wearing the blindfold but that’s quickly quieted by him kissing you again, telling you that it’s part of the condition for him kissing you.
Your breathing slows together and after a minute he feels you becoming dead weight. He laughs to himself when he realises that you’ve fallen asleep on him, carefully moving you aside to lay you back down on your bed. After cleaning the two of you up and tucking you into bed he gives you one final kiss to your forehead. You make a small noise of complaint, Rafayel kneeling at the side of your bed to take one last look at you for the night. His hand rests on your cheek softly, pretending that this didn’t drastically change everything.
“I love you. Sleep well, my Princess,” he whispers, the far away sound of waves lapping on a shore the only witness to his words.
#love and deepspace#rafayel#rafayel x reader#love and deepspace rafayel#love and deepspace x reader#rafayel smut
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-[chan; soft bf headcanon
P: Chan x gender neutral reader | G: fluff, headcanon | Inc: graphic designer!reader, getting together, friends to lovers, the rest of skz being (lovingly) fed up, date nights, late night walks | Wc: 503 | W: none iirc | R: G
My favourite single father of seven/j
Meeting Chan was almost fate, honestly
You’re a graphic designer and happen to love designing album covers
Stray Kids were finishing up an album and needed a graphic designer to help create the album covers
Lo and behold~
You and Chan meet!
Bonding during meeting after meeting while the creative process goes about working its magic
The bonding sessions turn into dropping by each other’s workspace
By which I mean you visiting Chan’s studio pretty much every time you have a lunch break and bringing a snack with you
Which he greatly appreciates <3
Because he never leaves that room/j
The speed at which you two become best friends is impeccable
Very much a duo – especially the kind that are always seen hanging out together
The feelings start not too long after too
There is one problem though... you’re both oblivious
Painfully oblivious
Somehow you both can’t see that the other is head over heels, and it doesn’t take long for the rest of skz to start taking matters into their own hands
They love you, really, but the running around in circles is going to drive them a little mad
Just a little :D
They keep trying to bash hints over your heads
Which is ironic because the confession happens so quickly
Catches everyone off guard fr
The two of you are hanging out late and it gets blurted out
Cue quick discussion over what you want in a relationship and boom—
Y’all are a couple now! Everyone liked that
Chan being your boyfriend comes with seven other people because none of these men know what the meaning of the phrase personal space is
Baby I don’t make the rules here, this is just the truth
You take it in stride though, which Chan appreciates
Oh yeah, and this man is a hugger
A certified cuddler I’m telling you
I’m convinced he needs his arms around you for thirty minutes a day, every day, at least
Will have you sit in his lap while he works so he can get his daily y/n cuddles
Try to move and watch him whine I swear—
Do you not want his affection anymore??/j
Lmao but despite how busy the both of you are, date nights are wonderful
He plans dinner reservations on days you’re both free and refuses to listen to anyone asking him to work
Date nights are for the two of you and the two of you only <33
Walks hand-in-hand with you after dinner and you stop by a few stalls
If you happen to pass by an arcade, he’s gonna win you a plushie from the claw machine
Sure he spends a little too much on it, but it’s all good fun
Especially worth it to see your face when he does win a plushie
And sure, your friends are more than happy that you’re dating Chan
But they are a little jealous
Because who doesn’t want a relationship like yours
You lucky darling, you~
© copyright work of armysantiny 2024-2025
Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!
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#Writer Elf Minnie#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#ultkpop#wkcnet#stray kids x reader#stray kids headcanons#bang chan x reader#bang chan headcanons#stray kids fluff#bang chan fluff#skz headcanons#skz x reader#skz fluff
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ALL OVER AGAIN .ᐟ
✩ — neuvillette gets a new problem: he finds himself crushing on you all over again.
✩ — includes: neuvillette x gn!reader. fluff fluff fluff!! no cws. wc: 503. reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated :D
if there was one thing that neuvillette didn’t expect to experience again ever since he got married to you, it would be him being attracted to you all over again.
he had no clue how or when this started again, but he just woke up one day and couldn’t stop admiring you. his eyes wouldn’t leave you; whenever you two touch, it feels like a burst of electricity is suddenly rushing through him; and god, every time you kiss him, he feels like he’s floating.
was this normal?
neuvillette snapped out of his thoughts when you started waving your hand in front of his face. “neuvi, are you okay? you’ve been staring at me for a while. was there something on my face?” you asked him with concern, setting down two teacups of tea on the table. neuvillette coughs into his fist and looks away out of embarrassment that he got caught staring at you like a lovesick boy.
“my apologies; it was not my intention to stare like that, but i do think that i might be having a fever," he says. after hearing his response, you immediately got closer to him, checking his temperature.
and this makes neuvillette’s temperature rise higher, if that was still possible.
“well, your temperature is a bit hot right now, but it isn’t bad enough for a fever.” you replied. “ah, uhm.” huh, did he just stutter? did neuvillette actually just stutter? “is that so? that’s good news then.”
“love, are you sure you’re okay?” you asked him again.
well, it wouldn’t hurt for him to express his current concern, right?
he doesn’t nod to answer you, instead, he starts voicing himself out. “to be honest with you, dearest, i’ve been… having a few troubles lately. every time you walk into the same room that i’m in, i just can’t help but admire you. every time you open your mouth to speak, i find myself ignoring and putting down what i’m currently doing just to listen to what you have to say. and every time you kiss me… i feel my knees getting weak.”
you let out a giggle at his words, and your poor husband just looks at you in confusion. “was there something wrong with what i said?” he asks. “no, no, don’t worry, neuvi. you just sounded so cute.” you reassured him.
“but to answer your little problem, i think you’re in love with me.”
neuvillette is confused. “in love with you? but how could that be possible when i’m already married to you? i have always loved you, so why am i only feeling this now?”
now it was your turn to blush, trying to keep it cool when you just heard your husband say such things. “well, dearest, love is quite a complicated thing sometimes, isn’t it?" you say, lightly poking his nose.
this time, neuvillette nods. love may be a complicated thing to grasp, but all he knows is that he loves you. and nothing will ever change that.
#( writings )#astronetwrk#favoniuslibrary#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin imagines#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette#x reader
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Silent Promise
Word count: 503
Warnings: Slight smut!
A/N: This is my first ever Timmy fic so please be gentle
Pairing: Timmy/Reader
Silent Promise
You were expecting him home soon, the concert would’ve finished about a half hour ago and he would be making his way home to you.
He was a nervous wreck getting dressed earlier. He was excited to go see Beyoncé in concert, he had bought the tickets weeks in advance and got a spot in the VIP area. But he had wanted to take you, not Kylie. He was furious with his PR team when they said he had to go with Kylie Jenner.
This was supposed to be the first time going public with you, the love of his life, and now he was told he would have to go with her after all the rumours that were spreading.
You both knew of course it was the family that had started the rumours in order to ‘repair’ Kylie’s damaged image, but Timothée didn’t expect he would actually have to get involved with any of it.
When the video of him kissing her at the concert started going around you knew it was fake instantly by the way he looked straight at the camera that had ‘caught’ them. And you also knew Timmy’s anxiety would be through the roof at the thought of you seeing it and thinking the worst of him.
You were floating on your back in the pool when you heard him come through the front door. You knew he would be tearing his way through every room until he found you, you saw the bedroom light go on upstairs and felt his gaze find you at the window, and then the light went off. He was in his boxers by the time he got to the back door and just jumped right in, swimming underneath until resurfacing right in front of you.
His wet hair was clinging to his forehead as you looked at each other before he wrapped his arms around your waist and without a word kissed you gently. You kissed him back holding onto his shoulders as you both got heated in the kiss. Timmy lifted you onto the edge of the pool without breaking the kiss, and wrapped your legs around him holding onto your thighs. He removed both your bikini and his boxers and pushed himself out of the water as you lay back pulling him over you.
You could feel his length against your thigh and slid your hand down to his lower back to guide him as he pushed into you.
Timmy slammed hard into you as your legs wrapped around his waist and he buried his face against your neck breathing heavily rocking his hips against yours.
You lifted his head and kissed him passionately without saying a word and you both came together soon after panting heavily with Timmy shaking in your arms.
You knew what he was trying to say as he carried you upstairs to bed and crawled back into your arms to fall asleep.
No matter what, he would always come home to you, and only you.
@sufferingstarlight @lixzey @gatoenlaciudad @kteezy997
#lil timmy tim#timothèe chalamet#timmy x reader#timothee chalamet smut#timmy fanfics#timothée chalamet x reader#fanfiction#timothee chalamet fanfiction
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TELL ME THAT YOU'VE NEVER FELT LIKE THIS BEFORE
pairing: niki x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 503
notes: inspo from this fic, i wanna start writing for tgcf so expect some hualian x reader fics lmao, title from the spook school - i wanna kiss you
“i’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time i saw you.” niki’s sudden confession catches you off guard. his words are quiet, whispered into the silence of the night as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “i think about it sometimes - kissing you.”
you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you; the breath stolen from your lungs unexpectedly. shifting slightly to face him, you study niki’s expression for any hint of humour. you find none.
a second passes. then another. you’re not exactly sure what you’re waiting for. the silence is almost suffocating enough to force the words out of your throat. “so why haven’t you?”
niki’s eyes are wide when they meet your own. a stream of moonlight streams in through your blinds, coating the room in silver. the minimal light does little to hide the bright blush on his face. he can’t decide if he’s grateful or not.
“are you serious?”
“are you?”
niki doesn’t answer. at least, not verbally. his hands twitch as he hesitantly reaches out, carefully cupping your cheek.
there’s a hint of uncertainty in the way niki holds you. his touch is so gentle you can barely feel it. there’s enough distance between you for you to comfortably flee. to blame your words on the confusion of sleepless nights and go back to normal.
but you don’t want normal.
“are you okay with this?” niki’s hand rests comfortably against your cheek now. his fingertips trace along your cheekbone with care.
he stops entirely when you wrap your hand around his wrist. he watches as you gently lift his hand to press a chaste kiss against his palm. niki’s heart races. “yes. are you?”
niki’s face feels hot. his answer comes in the form of his fingers weaving between yours, intertwining your fingers together.
he unconsciously licks his lips when his gaze meets yours once again; his eyes flicker down to glance at your lips for just a second, but it’s enough to send a cascade of butterflies through your stomach. niki leans in so close that you can nearly feel each breath he takes. his voice drops so low you almost miss the words he murmurs entirely. “can i kiss you?”
this time, you’re the one who takes the initiative. with your fingers still intertwined, your eyes flutter shut before you finally close the distance.
niki’s lips are soft against your own. he wastes no time in returning the favor, eagerly kissing you back with fervor. his kisses are gentle, like there’s no expectation for more. each of his movements are deliberate - the reassuring brush of his thumb against your knuckles; his free hand rests against your jaw, guiding you through the movements.
his hand remains when you finally pull away. the flush on his cheeks matches the tint lingering on your lips. a beat of silence passes before niki smiles softly. “can i kiss you again?”
you softly chuckle, quickly closing the distance. “you don’t even have to ask.”
i'm currently opening a taglist !! send an ask/dm to be added :)
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#niki fluff#niki x reader#niki x male reader#enha soft hours#enha soft thoughts#niki imagine#niki one shot#niki scenario#niki drabble#niki x you#niki x y/n#enha x reader#enha x male reader#enha imagine#enha one shot#enha scenario#enha drabble#enha x you#enha x y/n#enhypen fluff#enhypen fanfic#enhypen x reader#enhypen x male reader#enhypen drabble#enhypen scenario#enhypen one shot#enhypen imagine#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enha niki
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Undone
Jasper Hale x Reader
Summary: a short piece where Jasper shows you his scars and you love on him.
Word Count: 503
Note: this feels kinda different from the other things I’ve written and I kinda love it.
—-
Jasper takes in a sharp breath as your warm touch traces over the raised skin on his shoulder. You pause wordlessly, waiting, brushing your thumb over the scar tenderly. So tenderly it makes his chest ache. You touch him like he’s something that could break, something that deserves to be treated softly. He’s not, and he hasn’t been for so long. But with you - with you he feels like he is falling undone. Even now. Even as you sit there behind him, not saying a word, not pushing.
He has never been like this with someone. So…vulnerable. His scars were always something he hid. Not because he was ashamed of them, but because they made others uncomfortable. Even his family. He never expected that you would ask to see them.
Yet here you are. His sweater twisted in his hands, every scar, every silvery mark on his body, every memory of what he once was, bared for your eyes to see. And all he can feel from you is love.
“You can tell me to stop,” you murmur quietly, letting him set the pace, not expecting or needing any more than just this.
“No.” His voice comes out rougher than he expects, throat raw with something he can’t place. “You can, you can keep goin, darlin.”
Hesitantly, you allow your fingers to trail over his shoulder, down the scattering of scars along his arm. Jasper tries to focus on the feeling of you. The heat of your skin, a sharp contrast to his own. The faintness of your breath on his shoulder. The way your fingers trace, featherlight and soft, from his elbow to his wrist.
There’s so many, you realize wistfully, losing count of them. Each scar you trace makes your heart ache a little bit more. Jasper had told you about his past, but it felt different to see it, touch it. You can only imagine how it felt. What it took to get through all of this.
But you know he doesn’t want pity. Not from you. Not from anyone. And you have none to give him, because this - this is not pitiful. This is Jasper. Your Jasper.
“You're beautiful,” you whisper the words like a secret, and Jasper’s chest tightens, head ducking as if he can hide from the love that threatens to pull him undone.
The bed shifts as you draw closer to him. Your arms curl around his waist, hands tracing the curves of his ribs to rest against his chest. And you hold him. You hold him as if he weren't the indestructible one. As if he were just a man, tired of war and tired of hiding. A man falling apart in the arms of the woman who finally sees him.
Jasper takes a shuddering breath when your lips press to the scars on his neck.
“I love you, Jasper,” you confess, just for him in this quiet room. All of you.
He never thought someone could love him like this.
Yet here you are.
—-
Hope you guys like it ^w^
#reader insert#x reader#reader#jasper hale#jasper whitlock#twilight saga#twilight#jasper hale x reader#jasper whitlock x reader#jasper x reader#fluff#scars#battle scars
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PROMISCUOUS BOY
prompt: your next-door neighbour keeps bringing hookups one night after other disturbing your precious sleep. exhausted, you decide to write a letter venting all your frustrations — not expecting that in the middle of all this it would reach it recipient.
pairing: blade, jing yuan x fem! reader
cw: scenario format, modern au, slightly ooc to fit the plot, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, flirt, not beta-read
reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡
Dear apt 502’ neighbour,
I understand that starting a letter with "dear" may sound a bit old-fashioned and ridiculous when I don't even know you, but I hope you take in consideration my romantic spirit as a passionate literature student and will overlook this fact.
That said, the reason why we’ve never met is mainly based on the times when I leave and get home. You see, I'm in my last year of a master's degree and the university has been charging all my time and dedication, so I barely have time to take care of myself other than to fall into bed and sleep.
But lately, in the late hours of the night, I’ve had my rest interrupted at the only moment when my mind should find peace. And I swear, I've tried to use all possible methods to prevent the noise from affecting me but it has been increasingly difficult.
Far be it for me to look for trouble because of someone else sex' life, no. I'd rather say good for you instead.
But would it be nice of you to fuck your bitches without breaking my wall in the process? I can deal with their horrible moans, but definitely not with my damaged apartment.
Be that as it may, I wish you the best intentions.
Your apt 503’ neighbour
Blade
Oh, how you hated your neighbour. You hated him so much.
There were few people who achieved such a feat since you were the most patient and easygoing person to ever exist. Not even your Languages and Cultures II’ partner who was extremely irresponsible or your idiot ex-boyfriend who still didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word break-up were able to get out of you a feeling as negative as hate. But, well, for everything in this life there was a first time, and your not-so-dear-neighbour was getting the upper hand.
When you wrote the letter on one of the dozens of nights in which his nocturnal activities seemed to be more important than other people's rest, you didn't expect a few days later for it to disappear from your desk where it belonged, much less for your friendly doorman to confirm your worst nightmare: all the mail for the week had already been sent.
What was supposed to be a joke turned into more days and nights of stress and you even considered writing him a second letter explaining that it was all just a misunderstanding and that the cracks in your wall weren't that important after all. However, when a week passed and your next-door neighbour's sexual activities began to last until the next morning, you understood that he was deliberately mocking you and, consequently, declaring war.
Now take a good look. You were a person known for your poise and calmness in overcoming challenges despite so much pressure, so it was expected that it’d be no different this time. Except it was. Because not even the calm and composure that the gods gave you could help you ignore the terrible moans in the next room, and the investment you put into that apartment was too high to let it go unnoticed.
And so, at 7:05 am on a Sunday morning, you found yourself in front of apartment 502' door knocking continuously on it as you waited not so patiently the willingness of your neighbour to finish his fuck and attend you. How a person managed to have so much sex drive was beyond your understanding, but perhaps this was due to the fact that your neighbour was an old and lonely man who must have found pleasure in the company of women only at night. Yes, that was a plausible reason.
In the end, you spent at least five minutes abusing the door’s wood without stopping. And just as you prepared to knock once more, it suddenly opened and the man who had tormented you all your nights had finally revealed himself.
Your impressions: Well, old he certainly was. Lonely? Hard to say. Now, unfairly hot and attractive? Unexpectedly yes.
When you came to your senses, you and the half-naked man spent a long time staring at each other in silence, absorbing each other's characteristics. You were clearly affected by his beauty and he was clearly irritated by your presence.
"Are you going to stare at me all the way, or are you going to say what you want?"
You blinked once, twice, three times until his words hit you, making you visibly red with embarrassment. How rude!
"First, good morning to you too," you said venomously, "Second, didn’t you read the letter, no? What part of not breaking the wall didn’t you get?"
The man seemed to take your words into consideration for a few seconds before a sneer appeared on his lips and his eyes narrowed in amusement. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his bare, scarred chest, making him more attractive than he already was.
"I don't see how this is up to you alone. After all, the wall is as much yours as it’s mine," he says and you open your mouth in shock.
"Excuse me? How can I not when it’s my side that is being damaged the most!"
"Then you better start looking for a bricklayer."
Gods, this man was impossible! You already knew that you hated him for a very insignificant reason, but now you were sure that he was more detestable than he let on. And the fact that he counts your arguments with that purposeful blank expression infuriated you even more.
"Unbelievable. Not only can't I keep my apartment intact, but I also have to spend sleepless nights because of the noise too."
"If the noise bothers you so much you can always come and join in," your neighbour offers with a small smirk, but the devilish glow that radiated from his crimson iris didn’t hide the true meaning behind his words.
Too embarrassed and disconcerted to continue the argument with the man, you angrily return to your house, slamming the door aggressively and containing the scream of frustration that bubbled in your chest.
Yingxing in turn couldn't help but think that you had a nice ass, and that annoy you was even better than he thought.
Jing Yuan
Two whole days looking for the letter all over your apartment took you to the most advanced stage of despair. Even though you had already ransacked your living room from floor to ceiling more times you could remember, messing up your kitchen and bedroom in the process, you still hadn't found a single trace of the piece of paper. And even though a part of you already knew that there was a high chance that the letter had been mixed in with the other correspondences and had been forwarded to its intended recipient, you'd rather have a hole in the ground swallow you than consider the only plausible option.
Even so, now here you found yourself: in front of the apartment 502’ door with a courage and pride that wasn't yours, sweat running down your spine and the dread of finally coming face to face with the man who not only ruined your last nights sleep, but who could very well ruin your social life too. God, just thinking that he could be a troublemaker and report you to the police, tarnishing your criminal record and your reputation as a good neighbor made you sick to your stomach.
But there was no other alternative. You had to make sure he hadn't opened the letter, or, in the worst case, consider not bringing this humiliation to the public.
So, minutes after knocking on the door, you were finally greeted by the resident of apartment 502 who, for much your surprise (or much delight) was wearing nothing but a bath towel with the steam's traces still emanating from his pale, wet skin. It suddenly became very clear to you why all those dozens of women made sure to scream “Oh, Jing Yuan!” every time they reached an orgasm.
"May I help you?"
Yeah. Fucking kill me, you wanted to answer.
The words you had practiced so much seemed to have escaped your brain and a familiar heat burned your cheeks. The embarrassment was huge, but you had already come this far and there was no going back. You only wished your neighbour wasn't this attractive, though.
"Hi. Good evening, sir. I’m your nextdoor neighbour and I wanted to know if by any chance you received a letter signed in my name", you stuttered so fast that you feared you’d have to repeat the sentence all over again since Jing Yuan didn’t seem to express any reaction for a few seconds.
As the realization hit him, though, a faint gleam of amusement crossed his golden irises and mortification hit you like a bolt of lightning.
Oh shit. He had read the letter.
"Just a moment, ma'am", Jing Yuan said with a playful smile on his lips and entered his apartment for a few seconds, returning shortly afterwards with the well-known envelope in hand.
He held out the letter and you trembled as you finally picked it.
"I can tell that this was not a letter intended to be sent, right?"
"No, it wasn't. And I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble! God, what a humiliation! Now would be a great time to die", you pleaded into the void and your handsome neighbour laughed in response.
"It’s alright. You know, it's the first time I've received a letter from such a beautiful lady, although the content was definitely not what I expected", he said contemplatively crossing his huge arms on his huge chest. You looked away feeling more embarrassed, "Nevertheless, I also apologize for my lack of attention. I’ll be more considerate from now on."
If only it could get any worse. Here he was apologizing for having a healthy sex life when you should probably be doing the same. Having sex not apologizing, of course.
Fearing that if you said anything else your words would come out more clumsy than the erratic beating of your heart, you forced a smile to your neighbour who was now looking at you intensely in slight amusement. And realizing that if you stared back at the man for too long your role as a fool would only get worse, you came up with a quick excuse to escape from there and back to your apartment. Maybe your next letter would be a goodbye to the world because you refuse to leave your home from now on.
"Thank you for your attention and again I apologize for the confusion, Mr. Jing Yuan. It was great meeting you, really, but I need to go so have a good night and don’t mind me anymore," you bow quickly and respectfully as your face burned in red, and stumble on wobbly legs back to your door.
However, before you could enter your house due to fumbling with the wrong keys for the lock, Jing Yuan let out a light laugh and replied: “It was my pleasure to meet you, Miss Neighbour. Although, I must say that I would like to keep hearing more from you from now. This time, in person, of course."
Needless to say you entered your apartment at lightning speed vowing never to exit it again, leaving behind a very good-humored Jing Yuan.
How delightful to know that you already knew his name before he even needed to introduce himself, huh.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#blade#blade x reader#jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#hsr#hsr x reader
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ꕤ 43. something more valuable
tw: sorta? kidnapping, violence / wc: 1k
you're currently sitting on the softest sofa known to man, staring back and forth as ayaka takes matters into her own hands. you weren't in the best of moods after getting shot down by aoki while trying to convince her to text ayato; she was so stubborn it felt like you were talking to a damn wall.
"think of it this way," ayaka says, looking at a cross-armed aoki straight in the eye as they paced back and forth in the middle of the suite's living room. "you ask ayato where he is, he responds, then we go meet him, yn and him make up, and voila! no more wedding! happy ever after for everybody! doesn't that sound amazing?"
your eyebrows raise when you see the cogs working in aoki's brain.
ayaka sends you a tiny non-verbal message, and you immediately catch on. "right! if you ask him for us now, ayaka herself will guarantee ayato will no longer be your problem. i think that's a win-win situation right there."
aoki sighs. "...fine. i'll go ask him."
—
the hotel he's checked in may not be as fancy as the principe, but when he's too busy running away from a loveless marriage forced onto him, even a shabby inn can feel a hundred times better than the five star hotel his grandfather had arranged for them.
"this hotel's kinda good, too, don't you think?" you whisper at ayaka inside the elevator, but there were too many people crammed into the cart for you to see her expression in the elevator's mirrored walls.
"the carpets look unmaintained and the plants at the lobby are plastic but sure, the hotel's a-okay—ouch!"
you pinch her side, panicked, before looking around if an employee might've overheard your conversation.
"yn, i'm telling the truth," ayaka defends herself. "we just walked in, asked if an ayato kamisato had checked in in this establishment, they said yes and even gave us his door number. how is this safe? what if we were debt collectors or… or a gang looking for him? like—come on, is customer privacy not a thing here?"
ding!
"alright, this is our floor," you mutter, pulling a still complaining ayaka's wrist through the throng of people. you can still hear her talking as you walk down the hallway, silently chanting the door number of ayato's room as you pass by.
502… 503… 504… there! 505!
only when you raised your fist to knock on the mahogany door did you realize there's a slight tremble in your hand. for a split second, you froze, the reality of the situation and what you're about to do and who you're about to face suddenly becomes too real and too overwhelming for you.
"hey."
ayaka gently squeezes your shoulder.
"i know my brother, and i know he'll forgive you."
"thank you."
you knock. three times. your heart rate spikes when you hear movement on the other side of the door. heavy footfalls on the carpet, striding closer to the door. you see the door knob turn, practically hearing the mechanism inside turning into place as the door swings open and—
"girls, i've been expecting."
"wait, what? grandpa?!"
that was the only thing you heard, until a heavy object came in contact with the back of your head, successfully knocking you out cold.
—
when you come to be, your head's still aching and you just want to go right back ahead to sleep, but the two people screaming didn't let that happen. the room seems to be barren and incredibly small. even in your half-conscious state, you've registered this fact solely for how loud their voices jumped within the small room.
"what is the meaning of this, grandpa?! order them to untie me right this instant! i'm your granddaughter for god's sake!"
ayaka seems to have already grasped the full length of the situation you both were in. not that you were surprised.
you were slowly but surely coming to, but the room has yet to notice.
"i can't believe you just hit my best friend with a metal bat, you asshole! you're going to pay for that!" ayaka hisses at the person standing on her side. she recognizes his face. a guard his grandfather had since before she even came to be in this world.
"i don't see any fault in my actions. she may be your friend as you so claim but to me? she's a lowly scum who managed to seduce my grandson and turn him away from me. ayato had always understood his duty of marrying for the sake of the family business—for my sake."
ayaka used to adore her grandfather as she never had a proper father figure in her entire life. but only now is she seeing the ugly truths her childlike mind had been too ignorant to miss.
"what grandfather even makes—"
"i can't possibly fathom what this woman has that made ayato threaten his mother saying he'll renounce his inheritance! to make him want to leave behind everything i've built for this family! such selfishness should not be tolerated!"
"that's because he found something more valuable!"
you flinched at the resounding slap you heard.
it was a split-second action. something that a normal person could've missed if he was too preoccupied with something else — but nothing slips past the current head of the kamisato family.
"i see you're awake," he says, addressing you. "good. both of you should hear what i'm about to say next."
their grandfather straightens his robes, adjusting the grip he has on his sterling-silver walking cane topped with an extravagant, swarovski-studded japanese camellia — the kamisato family crest.
"i'm done tolerating your tricks, ayaka, may this punishment straighten your priorities and remind you that nothing is more important nor valuable than family. ayato and aoki are to be wed, and not one of you is to spoil those plans. you both will remain here, inside this room, locked away with no communication to the outside world at least until the ceremony is over. i'd hate to do this, but you girls left me with no choice."
he turns to leave and ayaka screams at the top of her lungs.
"mom will never forgive you for doing this to me!"
her grandfather stops, standing at the frame of the door.
"no, child. it's your mother that should ask for my forgiveness for raising such an insolent child like you."
LOWKEY » previous : masterlist : next
a kamisato ayato social media au
summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?
notes — yay chapter bc im in a good mood cuz i won my 50/50 hehe pray i get his cons and signature weap after i offer scara all my savings lmao
🏷 i. @rinrinchin @nejibot @mich-cola @viiolettee @katsumikumo @kaz3yo @starryeyedkoko @xingqiusliegee @selenshinitai @boxdisappeared @lovelyycherries @ferumie @love6cks @kiyowoir @luvvmeilin @blackberri-jelli @moonlightbqe @kazooms @tricethecharm @lynnforever @kaedear @xiaoisahawtie @crowbird @apotatouwu @xinii @euryrue @aequha@nuttytani @plinkuro @choco-rei @aixaingela @milesluvrrad @windasteriaa @cherrytomato2 @zannivrs @k4miyato @eishtar @wccycc @ceylestia @sweet-almonds @ayatobro @animewolflover278 @queenaveryrules @veyu002 @ukinya @ventis-dandelion @adeptusx @x-xxiaos @loveyoutothestars @ssalamanderr
#genshin imagines#kamisato ayato imagines#kamisato ayato smau#genshin smau#genshinimpact smau#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x y/n#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin x y/n#ayato kamisato x reader#ayato kamisato x y/n#ayato kamisato x you
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#weirdcore#oddcore#medicalcore#medcore#liminal edit#liminalcore#liminal spaces#hospital aesthetic#hospitalcore#hospital bed#feverdreamcore#surrealcore#E unit#room 503#marigold hospital#june 2023
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a/n: creds to the prev people that did this! :)
your insta but you're dating aaron hotchner, part 3
okay i promise this is the last time 😭 i made this in such a rush, it's so ooc. pls forgive me and enjoy 🤍
part 1, 2, 4
liked by itslukealvez, reid.gram and 500 others
y/n_xo: aaron and his dimples 😍🫶
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d.morgan: and then you have reid who's standing behind him like a skin walker
its.emilyp: he looks like a kid who's gone to tell his dad he ate all his food including the veg
itsjj: he looks like henry when he vomited at 2am and came into my room to announce it
penny.garcia: my sweet boy, he looks like he needs a big long hug!! 🥹🥹
d.morgan: he's fine sweetness, he's going to live 😐
its.emilyp: its okay derek, spencer loves you too
d.morgan: i already know, who wouldn't 😏
y/n_xo: this is not tinder pls, i just wanted to appreciate aaron's dimps 🥲
itsjj: aww father and his son 💗
a.hotch: one is enough, thanks
d.morgan: loool you heard the man, reid. no one likes you
a.hotch: you leave him alone right now 🤨
reid.gram: you heard the man, morgan. no one likes you 🥱
liked by its.emilyp, penny.garcia and 490 others
y/n_xo: he's so cute 🤍🥹
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d.morgan: yknow sometimes i forget hotch is a whole father
reid.gram: same. he's so angry all the time. i can't fathom him showing any other emotions beside it
y/n_xo: he's so nice to jack, i can't remember last time i even got a kiss 🥲
itsjj: this morning when we walked by your office 🤨
penny.garcia: or last night when we were at the dinner 🤥
the.davidrossi: or literally anytime you both are together 😐
a.hotch: i literally kissed you just a minute ago. but okay
its.emilyp: ignore them all, baby. i'll give you all my kisses 👭
its.emilyp: has he been working out? 🤨
a.hotch: it's all natural, i assure you
d.morgan: he's lyin. he asked me to help him work out
a.hotch: have you never heard of privacy before??
itsjj: i was going to say, he's been looking.... a little bigger lately 🤔
y/n_xo: JJ 💀💀
itsjj: is that not what the kids are calling muscular?
penny.garcia: right?? recently he's been coming in sweaty like he's been running for miles
y/n_xo: sometimes he does ;)
itsjj: 👁👄👁
reid.gram: i am so close to blocking you from my phone
d.morgan: i really did not need that vision in my head 🤢
penny.garcia: i also did not need to see our boss in that light please
y/n_xo: shouldn't have asked 😌🫶
the.davidrossi: i think its time to slip into early retirement
y/n_xo: finally❤
liked by a.hotch, itsjj and 578 others
y/n_xo: i love u my grumpy man
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a.hotch: i love you more, my sweet ❤
its.emilyp: wake up and break up rn
reid.gram: the way i fell into a endless void of nothingness for all of eternity
itsjj: aww you guys are so cute😁🔫
penny.garcia: right, you guys are so adorable!! (i've had enough of living)
d.morgan: highway during rush hour looks mad comfy rn
a.hotch: please every single one of you seek professional help
its.emilyp: two bros holding hands 6 feet apart because they're not gay
y/n_xo: EMILY :(
itsjj: em you know he's just shy
its.emilyp: of what? me personally, i'd be flaunting y/n everywhere 👩❤️💋👩
y/n_xo: (s)creaming 😻
a.hotch: Y/N! 😠
d.morgan: you do know... we can read these right?? 🤢
reid.gram: i think she likes feeding off our fear and horror
liked by kate.callahan, blake_alex and 503 others
y/n_xo: i'm abt to give strauss a quick call 🤨
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the.davidrossi: please like erin would go for you 💆♂️
y/n_xo: i didn't think she'd go for a mean old pasta man yet here we are
penny.garcia: is that jealousy i smell? 🤔
its.emilyp: he's actually ecstatic that his secret is out #rotch4life😍
reid.gram: you mean *roach
a.hotch: is that how this team refers to me, as the chief supervisor? 🤨
its.emilyp: yep 🫂
d.morgan: she said it^^
its.emilyp: omgg conspiracy theory, hotch dated y/n so he could lust over rossi in private 😹
reid.gram: it's not a conspiracy if it really happened ☝
a.hotch: this most certainly did not happen!
its.emilyp: well you know what they say, guilty until proven innocent
the.davidrossi: nobody says that!
its.emilyp: okay and how do you know?? exactly you don't. case closed 🗣
d.morgan: honestly rossi... it feels like you're trying to cover up your tracks 😏
its.emilyp: the closet is glass, we know and it's okay ❤
itsjj: we all love youu 🥹🫶
the.davidrossi: all of you better sleep tonight with a lock. i'm coming after every single one
penny.garcia: if you kill me, could you try not to ruin my hair? the curls are no joke 😩
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction#aaron hotch fanfiction#david rossi#derek morgan#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#jennifer jareau
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Strange Leather Bar Swap
Today's my 21st birthday and you know what that means! I'm finally able to take my first sip of alcohol…well legally anyway! But I didn't want to go to just any gay bar, I wanted to go to a leather bar in the city! I'm a leather fetishist for sure, even though I don't own any real gear. The only leather item I own is a jacket I got at a thrift shop awhile back. I want to buy better gear, but it's not the best idea since I'm still closeted to my judgmental family in the small town I live in. I do have a car and license though, so I'm happy to be able to escape all that when I need to.
I drove to the nearest city to find the leather bar, a super tall building that you could see from the distance. I've always wondered why it was so tall; it had to be at least 5 stories! If it's just a bar, it shouldn't have more than two floors though right? I was about to solve the mystery because, proudly wearing my leather jacket, I walked up to the bouncer at the door.
"Hey kid, can I see some ID please?" I was a little intimidated, but knowing that I am in fact old enough, I was reassured. I proudly presented the ID to the bouncer. He gave one long look at it, then beamed at me.
"Hey, happy birthday kid! Hope your first legal's good."
"Thanks!" He opened the door for me.
"Enjoy Swap Night too! It's really fun."
"Oh…yeah I will!" I had no idea what Swap Night was, but it must be some kind of event.
Walking in was amazing. Everywhere I looked, there were hot leather guys in all shapes and sizes, with the fresh scent of leather in the air. I felt a little awkward though. Not only am I the youngest one there, but lots of guys were wearing kinky fetish gear too. When it wasn't a BLUF type uniform, it was harnesses and jockstraps. I really wish I owned their gear!
Walking through the crowd of sweaty leather men, I arrived at the bar. I sat on the stool and the bartender came over.
"What'll it be kid?
"Hmm." I'm not really sure actually. Thankfully he seemed to have read my mind.
"I get you, it's your first time right? Simple margarita it is."
"Sure." As he poured, he made eye contact with me.
"So, you excited for Swap Night? Should be starting pretty soon."
"Er, what exactly is it anyway? I didn't know about this."
"It's a whole lotta fun. Everyone in the bar swaps bodies with a partner."
"Really? Body swapping? That's so cool! Do you get to choose who?"
"Unfortunately not, it's random. But you do get to choose who to fuck!"
"Wait you can fuck?"
"Yep! It's an amazing experience."
"That sounds so cool! How do I sign up?"
"Over there." He pointed at the nearby table that had a stack of papers on it, along with a box. "Just sign there and put it in the box."
"Alright!” I finished my margarita, paid, and quickly headed over to the table. I filled out my information, signed the paper, and placed it in the box. A few minutes later a really hot guy walked onto the stage and took a microphone. He was wearing a leather jacket over a harness, along with a pair of chaps over his leather briefs. I swear he looked directly at me. I really hope I'm able to swap with him - or at least someone as hot as him!
"Hey all you leather men! It's time for Swap Night!" The crowd cheered. "Now if you just walk through that door, you'll find a bulletin board with a room number listed next to your name. In these rooms, you'll find the body swapping helmets. Put 'em on, wait until everyone's ready, and boom! New body! Now if you wanna fuck, there are plenty of playrooms to have some fun in, as well. You'll be body swapped until midnight, so when the clock strikes twelve, you'll automatically be put back in your original bodies. Any questions?"
Nobody had questions so we headed over through the door. We all crowded around trying to look for our names and I found mine - Room 503. The map on the wall nearby indicated that 503 was on the 5th floor so I walked in the elevator, standing behind a few other guys. The smell of leather and sweat filled the air and I could feel myself getting hard.
I reached the floor, found my room, and walked in. It was about the size of a typical hotel room but without furniture. There was a large window in the back. Looking through, I could see a good portion of the city. I turned to my left and saw the helmet sitting on a small side table, so I grabbed it, pushed the only button on it, and placed it on my head. Nothing happened at first but after about a minute, it started lighting up, and making buzzing noises. A blinding flash of light hit me in the face and when I opened my eyes, I was in another room.
I looked down to see my new body, excited to be swapped with a hot guy, but was met with a surprise. I was wearing a leather shirt with light blue stripes down the side, but it was bulging out in a ball shape. The blue tie I was wearing highlighted the curve even more, by arching over a shiny black balloon. I have a fucking ball gut! I poked it with my newly gloved hands, to prove it was real and…it was real all right! I grabbed it with both hands and shook it up and down, feeling vibrations throughout my body.
I'm fat! I've never been fat before, not even a little bit! At least I'm wearing leather gear. I took one hand and put it up to my nose to smell the glove. It was fucking amazing…the leather scent made me go stiff immediately. I couldn’t even see my own dick past the gut, but I sure could feel it! As I held the glove closer, I noticed my face felt a little fuzzy. I brushed under my nose and felt some facial hair. Oh god, I have a mustache! I looked around to find a mirror and saw one on the wall.
I looked at my reflection and was shocked at the sight. I'm not only fat, I'm old! I inspected my face closely, touching the mustache that spread across my face in an arch shape. This is weird but incredible! I’ve never been able to grow more than peach fuzz before and now I have a whole damn mustache! I had wrinkles under my eyes, on my forehead, and under my chin…actually no. That's a double chin! Even though I was grossed out, I started playing with it, pinching both my chins and neck. It was surreal.
I can't believe out of all the hot leather men I saw, I had to end up in the body of some fat old guy! Is this really supposed to be random? I couldn't have had worse luck! I've always wanted to own new gear but not like this! I turned to the side, staring at my new belly and holding it, jiggling it slightly as I grimaced at how far it stuck out. The leather shirt hugged it tightly in a way that no matter how much I tried to suck it in, it was still obvious. I took a moment to check out my entire leathered up body. In the mirror I could finally see the leather pants and boots I was wearing, along with a muir cap on top of my head.
So is this what it feels like wearing full gear? It really hugs my body…though maybe that's because I'm so big. I started to feel stiff, but this time, I think I was turned on by my body instead of the leather. That's funny though. I'm usually into younger to mid age fit guys, not silver daddies and bears, even if they're in leather. There's no ignoring the horny urges, though. I may not be able to see my dick but I can feel it! Maybe the body swapping causes an increase in sex drive? Well, whatever it is, I can't wait to try out this senior bod on some other guy…
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Champagne Problems | part two | Jenna Ortega
Warnings: Swearing, kissing
!you can decide whether you want the previous ending, or this one!
Part One | Champagne problems
"I'm sorry" you stood moon struck at the flawless beauty in front of you. To put it in terms of someone who wasn't completely head over heels for the women: she looked like a mess, her hair tied in a loose bun that had been in for far too long so loose hairs were flying around. Her makeup was gone, nothing but strands of the reminding mascara that still ran down her cheeks. Jenna, your jenna? Was she yours, was you hers. Well, Jenna was standing in front of you, looking as beautiful as ever.
She looked nervous, her fingers fidgeting and eyes unable to meet yours.
It had been a total of 3 weeks, 21 days, 503 hours, 1814400 seconds since you looked into the chest-nut eyes, the lagoon of brown that always sparkled whenever they looked at you; when you'd ask your friend's if they noticed the shimmer, the undoubtedly glistening in Jenna's eyes whenever she'd look at you, but they'd always say it was just the light. It wasn't the light, Jenna loved you, and her body acted accordingly: showing off her love with her eyes, her touches, her words. You were her muse, the oxygen she breathed and the music that she'd listen to wherever she felt overwhelmed.
Jenna coughed, her nose stuffy with the tears she'd be drowning in since you left. Her family were like leeches, ringing, messaging, self inviting themselves into her personal space and suffocating her with care; she didn't want their sympathy, she wanted you.
"I'm sorry, Y/N." You weren't going to stand there and let her apologise, not when you were the one who left.
"Why are you sorry?" Your voice cracked, croaking out into the room. You were yet to invite her in, embarrassed that you let yourself go after her sister picked up the boxes in your house.
"Because I knew. I mean, when I asked I thought you would say yes, I imagined our fairytale life together. But I knew, Y/N, you've never wanted that and you made it clear within our relationship." She whispered, her eyes were still leaking, tears falling from her cheeks freely. You wanted to make a move, wipe away the water that poisoned her cheeks. Even though she was a pretty crier, it still killed you seeing her in such a state.
Your head rolled onto the door frame, closing your eyes when a shaken sigh left your lips. She was right, you weren't shy about telling her how you pictured your life: she never cared, the only thing that mattered was that she was a part of it; in every universe, every picture you'd paint, Jenna was there.
"Don't cry, Jenna." Somehow, she missed you saying her name. Her name would roll off your tongue, touching the air with a satisfying hum to her ears.
She hiccupped away the pain, her teary eyes falling to the floor.
"Sorry."
"Stop apologising." You pleaded, hands pressing into your eyes. You were stuck with a head aching throbbing pain slamming into your skull; the pain of the nauseating headache was almost enough to have you weep out in pain.
"I don't know what to say. I sort of came here in a hurry, my mom- my mom told me not to, she said you still needed space. I needed to see you, I had to know—" she stopped herself, knowing what she wanted to say would either break or make you. She wanted to scream, plead into the midnight breeze that you were hers, that she would do anything, absolutely anything.
"Know what?" You asked, you wanted her to make you uncomfortable, you wanted her to tell you what she wanted: who she wanted.
"I have to know that we're still—well, that there's still an us?"
Your heart sank, never in a million years would you ever expect such a question to come from Jenna's lips; the two of you were so sure about your relationship, where the both of you stand throughout the whole course. Jenna knew you loved her, that your love rose just like the sun would everyday.
"I just think-"
She didn't let you speak, she brushed into the apartment with a haiste that by the time you blinked she was already situated herself on the island chair.
"We need to talk, I know." She slid her hands up her face, dragging them back down with a slight groan.
You accompanied her, standing in front of the island so the both of your eyes could meet. Call it selfishness, karma, whatever, but you missed her eyes dearly.
"Then talk, tell me everything that went through your head." You mumbled, half heartedly, unsure whether you wanted to dive into the rabbit whole of emotions and questions.
She sighed, holding her hands interlocked with each other before talking.
"I wanted to marry you, I wanted to be able to claim you as my wife, I don't know call it old-fashioned but I just wanted to take that step in our relationship. I thought- maybe if you gave me a chance, maybe, I'd be able to show you that I would be an amazing wife. I supposed I was being stupid." She rolled her head to the counter, releasing a string of different curses.
"I was caught up in a fantasy, my family has made that picture clear."
You didn't say anything, due to the lack of words, the lack of oxygen filtering through your system, everything was too much.
"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that I asked you, in all places in front of a crowd full of people you weren't familiar with. Will you- can you forgive me, baby?"
The pet name, the soothing way she spoke, her words; she knew you weren't the best with large crowds, but she was admitting her wrongs.
"I'm sorry, Jenna." She looked up at you, tears staining her cheeks.
"Why are you sorry?" She asked, reaching out to collect your hand on her own.
"You shouldn't be sorry for having a reaction, granted- it was embarrassing, but I understand." You sighed, she was too perfect, she was saying all the right things in the moment.
"Jenna, I want to be with you, more than anything. I'm just- we're so fucking young. If- maybe, what if we wait?" She peaked up at the question, the fate she deemed herself wasn't her reality, it was just her own insecurities.
"You- you want to be with me? Like, you still want to be mine?" She squealed, her tears steaming into nothing. She smiled, her dimpled sight filling your eyes, and your heart. She was gorgeous, an absolute sight for you to admire: you only, and that made you feel flushed.
"Yes. Of course, you're my life, Jenna. I'm just not ready to tie the knot, I'm- I promise, we can rethink this decision, we can take our time and not rush our relationship." She nodded to everything you said, taking in all the information you were quickly telling her.
"I am yours Jenna, you've claimed me in every way. I can't imagine, and I don't want to imagine my life without you." She lunged forward, her arms hooking around your neck and pulled you in.
Just your luck, for the counter crushed your ribs that sent an aching pain throb through your body. You hissed, pulling away from her warm embrace.
"Sorry, again." She giggled, letting you fall from her hold. You nodded, moving around the obstacle in your way. You collapsed into her arms, holding her for dear life: scared she would leave, scared she would release you was some type of damaged goods. Your lips surged into hers, she gasped into your sudden force.
You held her cheek, your lips plaguing hers. You kissed, slowly to let the kiss really take over both of your reality. Three weeks, three painful weeks spent without the warmth of Jenna, and having her near made you overdose.
You didn't want to pull away, so when she did you whined.
"Maybe we could settle with moving in with each other? Spend more time with eachothers family, get familiar with everything that may become our normal?" She asked, hope sparkling in her eyes. She leaned forward, kissing your cheek before you could speak again.
"You promise I won't become an afterthought, that you wouldn't prioritise your career over us?" You asked, biting your bottom lip in fear. She pulled away, holding your face in her hands.
"I would never, absolutely never do that. You're my universe, Y/N, you're the only thing worth my time." She promised, sealing the vow with a kiss.
Everything may change, you may change your mind on marriage and one day you'll be an Ortega and live among Jenna's crowd, but for now the both of you would settle for small dates, falling asleep In each other's arms and whispering soft I love yous into the midnight air.
She was your person, she was your Jenna, and she wasn't going to let a small disagreement get in the way of your whole relationship. Embarrassment be damned, Jenna could take the whole harassment off her family; if she had you, that's all that mattered. She asked, and she sadly got a no, but you were still in her arms at the end of the night; so was it that bad?
#jenna ortega#tara carpenter#lgbt#jennaortega#vada cavell#wlw#lorraine day#wednesday addams#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x fem#jenna x reader#jenna marie ortega#jenna ortega x fem!reader#champagne problems#taylor swift
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sending kuku dirty texts in a room full of the rest of LSDLN cast 😶🌫️
𐙚 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘.
ೀ amira speaks! : two fics in one day?? zoo wee mama! anyways,, (n/n) means ((your) (nickname),, enjoy this my baby! 😘
˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡
˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 503.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : suggestiveness, mentions of smut, drabble.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Esteban Kukuriczka x (fem!)Reader, Matías slightly appearing.
(n/n) 💗 is typing. . .
The Argentine man’s coffee-coloured eyes stared down at his phone attentively, awaiting for your message. Despite his insisting, you preferred to stay at home, rather than go to the small getaway the boys of the cast organised— and your boyfriend respected your decision.
But you still managed to get your fun, somehow.
(n/n) 💗: Kukuuuu
(n/n) 💗: Tebiiiii
(n/n) 💗: Miss me, darling? Because I do.
(n/n) 💗: I wish you were here with me, I feel horny as fuck for you, you have no idea
A warm fluster occupied his face, his pale, freckled skin turning into a crimson haze. Gods, you were such a teasing girl. It was hard for him to ignore such bold texting.
It didn’t matter what the other boys were talking and laughing about, all the background noise faded away, as his eyes were glued to the screen of his phone.
(n/n) 💗: I don’t know where the fuck are you,
(n/n) 💗: but if you are sitting on a chair and have a table in front of you,
(n/n) 💗: Don’t doubt for a second that I would be fisting your cock under the table
(n/n) 💗: and you’d have to keep quiet
(n/n) 💗: Unless you want someone to find us, right? 🥰
Fuck. You knew exactly what to do, and say, to get to him. Had you stayed at home just to tease him like this? Maybe you did.
It was a bit of an impossible task to keep himself, pretending he was simply on his phone. It was already a dreadful pain to fight back his growing erection from appearing, not when you sending messages like that.
“Demanding girlfriend, eh?” Matias’ voiced surprised him, making him rapidly stare away from the phone, right when Kukuriczka was about to reply back to you. Was it too obvious? Perhaps it was because his phone was constantly chimming, and his eyes wouldn’t leave the screen. The younger Argentine scoffed.
“Don’t answer that. I can tell.” he retorted teasingly without allowing Kuku to answer, before leaving once again to be with the rest of the cast. It was too obvious, and who wouldn’t be in that state in his place?
(n/n) 💗: Wouldn’t it be fun if I were there,
(n/n) 💗: And I took you to somewhere more private with an excuse...
(n/n) 💗: And I sucked your cock until I milked every last drop, having me drooling and gagging?
(n/n) 💗: in exchange, you could fuck my wet, aching pussy. ♥️
That’s it. He wouldn’t stay any longer on the little organised getaway by the cast. Kukuriczka could come up with an excuse, after all. Not being able to bury his cock deep inside your dripping pussy was painful enough, already.
Kuku 💍 is typing. . .
But after all your messages, you wouldn’t so easily get away from this. He’d make it clear, the horny feelings are always mutual.
Kuku 💍: I’m going back home. And you are keeping your promises, nena.
◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` taglist .ᐟ
@luceracastro @castawaycherry @creative-heart @deepinsideyourbeing
#esteban kukuriczka smut#esteban kukuriczka x reader#esteban kukuriczka#lsdln cast#lsdln x reader#lsdln smut#esteban kukuriczka fanfic#belle <33#my mutuals <3#loving my mutuals <3
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the sun after the storm;
john mactavish is alive. simon visits him in the hospital, but something is wrong. johnny doesn't remember.
☀︎ w.c: 3,9k
☀︎ pairing: ghost x soap // simon riley x john mactavish
☀︎ rating: pg
☀︎ archive of our own: link here
☀︎ genre: angst, fluff, pining
☀︎ warnings: modern warfare 3 spoilers. writing soap's lines in a scottish accent lmao
☀︎ author's note: i haven't written a fic in ten years please be gentle and kind
What do you mean, they found him?
Simon hated hospitals. The sterile nothingness, the god-awful swishing sound scrubs made when nurses walked by, the machines beeping, the artificial plants that are there to provide a facade of comfort; the illusion of life in a building where it is so often taken.
Third floor. Room 503.
None of that matters. Not when the man he loves is alive — the man he thought was dead for six months. The man whose ashes he gifted to the wind on that cliff as the sun set behind the ocean. None of this makes sense. Simon strides through the hospital lobby, b-lining towards the elevators.
Third floor. Room 503.
Simon’s skull balaclava is earning him some strange looks from various medical staff, but he has tunnel vision and doesn’t take notice, brown eyes locked on the glowing button that has a faded three printed on it. How many times has that button been pressed with the same urgency Simon feels in his gut? The elevator doors open to the third floor and he’s at the reception desk in four strides.
“Room 503?” he asks gruffly.
The nurse, an older woman, furrows her eyebrows. “…Sir, visiting hours ended 5 hours ago. You can come back tomorro-“ Simon’s eyes glazed over with fury at the thought of having to spend another minute in this miserable place. He didn't have time to wait for tomorrow. Not when the man he thought he had lost forever was just down the hall. He stared at the nurse, his silence the only indication of the rage boiling up within him. His words cut through the air like a knife. “I’m not here as a visitor.”
The nurse is caught off guard by Simon’s reply. He was an intimidating man, even in civilian attire, the mask he had kept on just out of habit. She clears her throat and looks down at her clipboard to avoid Simon’s icy glare. “If you are not a visitor then what is your business here? Do you have identification on you?” She asks, flipping through papers until she finds the file for the patient in room 503.
Simon had no patience for these stupid questions. He had waited months to find out that the man he had thought was dead was alive and he wasn't going to be held up over some petty bureaucracy. “Identification?” he scoffed, the venom in his voice evident. “I don't need identification. I'm here to see John MacTavish.”
The nurse lets out a frustrated breath. “What is your relationship to the patient?”
What is his relationship with the patient? He worked alongside MacTavish. He joked around with Soap. His chest feels warm and strange whenever he saw Johnny. Technically, they’re nothing more than colleagues, friends. There’s always been something else, though — something just below the surface that neither of them had been brave enough to act upon. Simon paused at the question and the nurse could see the uncertainty in his eyes. What was he to Soap? More than friends, less than lovers. A feeling he had never been able to name or put into words.
"We have a close relationship." he replies quietly. The fact that they had never explicitly defined their relationship made the situation even more awkward. What was he meant to say? That they loved each other deeply, but not in a manner that anyone outside the two of them had ever known? It sounded pathetic. It sounded desperate. It was true.
The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I need more information than that. I have to know who you are and how you know the patient before you can go into his room."
"I'm..." Simon started, his voice trailing off. He had known MacTavish for a few years now. He had gone to bars with him and watched him get smashed beyond belief on that god-awful scotch. He had found comfort in that Scottish accent he had grown so fond of over comms. He had spent sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling, replaying the night Johnny got shot over and over again. Everything he had done, and everything he could have done differently. Price’s words repeated in his head like a broken record: All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe.
One KIA.
The idiot had to go up behind Makarov and be a hero. What was that saying? Never bring a knife to a gun fight? If there was anyone that would bring a knife to a gunfight, it was Johnny. He was too stubborn, too proud. Always wanting to be the one to finish the job. That stubbornness, that pride, had gotten him killed. And Simon had to watch him die. Had to hold that cold urn of ashes and pour them out over that cliff and hold himself together long enough to not break down in front of the captain. He had spent six long months seeing Johnny in every sunset. He had spent five months avoiding sunsets altogether.
"...I'm his partner."
That wasn't the answer the nurse was looking for, but it was the only answer that Simon could give her. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears. “Right,” the nurse conceded after a moment of consideration. “When you go down the hall, it’s the third door on the left.”
Simon nodded and took off down the hall without another word. He could hear the nurse mumbling something about the strange visitors in his wake, but didn't pay her any mind.
He came to a stop in front of the door to 503. It looked just like the rest of the doors in the hallway. White. Sterile. Unassuming. Simon had been waiting for this moment for half a year. Now that it was finally here, he couldn't bring himself to go in. What if he had heard wrong? What if someone had made a mistake and it wasn't MacTavish in the room? What if he got his hopes up for nothing? John MacTavish wasn’t exactly a unique name, after all. What if-
A doctor came out of the room, a clipboard in his hand. He was tall and slender, the kind of man who had a face you would never remember. He looked up, a bit startled from Simon’s unexpected presence but polite nonetheless.
"May I help you?"
Simon swallowed his nerves. "I'm here to see John MacTavish." The doctor's expression turned somber. "He's alive," Simon said, the words coming out as more of a statement than a question. “Yes, he’s alive…” The doctor says slowly, closing the door to John’s room behind him with a soft click and studying Simon’s eyes with his own. “Have you been informed of his condition?”
Condition. The word makes Simon uneasy. "His condition? What happened to him? Is he okay?" He couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. Simon was usually more collected than this, but the news of Johnny's survival was throwing him off.
“John suffered a gunshot wound to his right temple. We were able to extract the bullet and its fragments, however…” The doctor paused, choosing his words carefully. He had given this speech many times before, but that never made it easier. “The trauma resulted in retrograde amnesia. We don’t yet know if it’s permanent. If you go in that room… it’s very likely he will not remember you.”
Retrograde amnesia. The words crack his chest open and squeeze his heart like twine. It didn't matter how hard he had trained, or how much experience he had. There was nothing Simon could do about this. No target he could eliminate. This wasn’t something Simon could fix, and that infuriated him.
"Is there anything you can do? Anything I can do?"
The doctor shakes his head. "We've tried everything. There is no telling what will happen. He is stable, and his memory might come back in time. It might not. The only thing we can do is wait, let him heal.”
"But I don't understand, I... I watched him get shot, fall to the floor. I watched him die. I held him. How is he alive?" Simon's voice cracks, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. Johnny, lying on the floor, eyes glazed over. Johnny, slumped lifelessly over his shoulder. Johnny, the ashes of his corpse blown away into the sea. "You must be mistaken. The man I buried is dead. MacTavish is dead. I held his ashes."
The doctor shook his head again. "He was pronounced dead on the scene. He was rushed to a medical facility and they were able to stabilize him enough to fly him here. There was a mix-up with the body tags, and the body you received was someone else's. The hospital called and told us who the urn belonged to. That's how we were able to contact you and inform you of the situation." The doctor pauses. "We have no record of this other person, no information about their family or who they were. The best we can guess is that the hospital was trying to save face, and they handed you the ashes of the first dead body they could find." Simon's heart sinks. How long had he spent grieving, mourning a man who was still breathing? The guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. He felt sick. "I want to see him."
"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea-" the doctor starts, but Simon cuts him off. His hands clench into fists. The thought of Johnny waking up, alone and confused in a hospital bed is enough to make him want to rip the door off the hinges and break whatever machines had the nerve to beep so obnoxiously. “Move,” Simon blurts out, pushing his way past the doctor and opening the door to Johnny’s room, stepping inside.
The air is stolen from Simon’s lungs as soon as his eyes landed on Johnny's prone form in the hospital bed. His head was wrapped in bandages, a white gauze patch over the wound on his temple. He was asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm that indicated peaceful slumber.
He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.
All those months, and he was here. In a hospital. Alive. Simon felt weak.
"Johnny?" Simon whispered, stepping forward hesitantly. MacTavish stirred, the sound of the other man’s voice unfamiliar and foreign, but soothing, nonetheless. It was comforting, like a warm cup of coffee or the smell of a burning candle. It felt like home. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a deep blue iris that scanned the room, the bright fluorescent lights temporarily blinding him. He groans softly, slowly propping himself up into a sitting position on the bed. His paper-thin hospital gown rustles, the fabric scratchy and stiff. Johnny notices the masked man standing awkwardly by his bedside. His eyes scan him slowly, taking in his dark eyes and the black fabric of his balaclava. “They send security in ‘ere?” he mutters, squinting, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"Do you..." Simon began, his voice trailing off as he pulled off his mask, running a hand through his shaggy, blond hair.
Johnny's eyes widened. He had never seen this man before, but the sight of him made his heart swell. The blond man had a heavy British accent, and scars of all shapes and sizes littered his pale face. He had brown eyes that shone like honey in the sun, his jaw strong and set with an expression of relief. The blond man's face was the most beautiful thing Johnny had ever seen, and he swallows nervously.
"Do you recognize me?" Simon whispered, placing his hand on the rail of the bed. He could feel the tears threatening to spill over, and his vision was starting to blur. He was going to cry, and he hated himself for it.
Johnny shook his head. "Sorry, lad. Cannae say I do,” I would remember a face like that, he thinks. “Yer a familiar stranger, though."
"Familiar..." Simon echoed, his voice breaking. He could feel the knot in his throat. This wasn't fair. He was alive, and that was what mattered, but Johnny had no idea who he was. MacTavish was about to ask the stranger his name when the man suddenly burst into tears, sobbing softly.
“Oh, I…” Johnny says softly, reaching a hand out to comfort the stranger, squeezing the man’s bicep gently. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. What’s yer name?” he asks gently.
Simon's chest is on fire, and he's gasping for air. This was all wrong. All wrong. This wasn't the first time Johnny had died. The last time, it was a bullet in the head. This time, Johnny was here, alive, but Simon lost him all the same.
"Simon," he croaks. Johnny repeats the name back, his hand still gripping the other man's arm. He can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, hot and thick, and he realizes he's crying, too, but he doesn’t know why.
“Simon…” he repeats, the name on his tongue felt like velvet, a word he could never tire of saying. Simon sniffles. Johnny looks at him expectantly, a single tear rolling down his cheek, and Simon can feel the weight of the silence pressing against his shoulders, suffocating him. “Simon. Why are ye cryin’?” he asks softly. “And why am I cryin’?” he chuckles a little, trying to lighten the mood. "Because we're both idiots," Simon laughs bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Johnny." he says, his voice hushed and solemn. “Sorry?” Johnny says, his eyebrows knitting together as he studies Simon’s face. He sits up a bit straighter. “What are ye sorry for?”
"I'm sorry because I..."
Simon's voice trails off. He can't look Johnny in the eyes. It's like staring into the sun. Johnny leans forward, his hand sliding down Simon’s bicep to his forearm, the cool feeling of leather under his palm as he goes. The blond man flinches, and the Scotsman feels a sharp stab in his gut.
"Yer wearing my tags," he murmurs.
"What?" Simon looks down at his chest, where Johnny’s silver dog tags hang unceremoniously on top of his black hoodie. They had become a sort of talisman for him, and he had worn them every day since Johnny's death, never taking them off once.
"Right." he breathes, his fingers brushing against the metal, a nervous habit — he often found himself clutching the only thing he had left of his best friend.
"I must mean somethin' tae ye," Johnny says quietly, his Scottish brogue rolling off his tongue.
"You mean everything to me," Simon whispers, his voice cracking.
Johnny feels like his breath has been stolen. The weight of those words hit him harder than he expects, and his head spins. He looks at Simon, his eyes filled with curiosity, the tears on his cheeks drying. "Tell me about myself. B’fore, I mean. What was I like?" he asks, and it's more a request than a demand. His eyes linger on his dog tags around Simon’s neck; Simon’s own are tucked underneath his shirt.
Simon can feel the lump in his throat returning. "Well," he says, swallowing hard. "You were — are —stubborn, and brave. Always getting yourself into trouble. You never asked for help, and you had a horrible habit of drinking alone. You always tried to finish the job, and never trusted anyone but yourself. Loyal to a fault, one hell of a friend. You're also an insufferable idiot who has no regard for his own safety. A total dumbass. A bloody moron, really. And you know what else? I loved you, you Scottish bastard. I loved you, and I thought you were dead. Do you know how long it's been? Six months, Johnny. Six months, and now you're here, and you don't even remember me, and I can't even be mad. I’m not allowed to be mad because you're alive, you’re alive, and it's all that matters, but I lost you all the same, and it fucking hurts, you son of a bitch."
The words came out faster than Simon could stop them, and now he was gasping, tears pouring down his face, his cheeks burning, the air leaving his lungs and being replaced with something cold and empty. He hadn’t realized how angry he was, how angry he had been all these months. The anger he had buried deep, and let fester inside him.
Johnny just stared at him, his eyes wide. “Love?” he whispers incredulously.
"Oh, shit," Simon mutters. His face burns red, and he wants to turn and run away, pretend he had never been here, never said any of those things, but he's frozen, and Johnny is looking at him with those stupid gorgeous blue eyes and it's all Simon can do to hold himself together.
"We weren’t just friends, were we?” Johnny whispers, his hand tightening ever so slightly on Simon’s forearm. Simon is silent. The answer is obvious.
Johnny nods. "And... we never got tae say it, did we?"
"No," Simon replies, his voice a strained whisper.
"That's why yer here."
"That's why I'm here," Simon echoes, his voice a whisper. Johnny swallows, his mouth dry. "When did ye know?” he asks softly, his eyes locked on Simon's.
"That I loved you?"
"Aye."
Simon is quiet. He doesn’t remember a time when he hadn’t loved Johnny. It had always been there, a feeling just below the surface, a constant presence. He had never given it a name, but it was a feeling that he couldn’t deny, even if he wanted to. He remembers the day he had realized how he felt, the moment when his feelings had finally made sense.
It was late summer, and they had just finished a mission. Price had gone off somewhere, and it was just him and Johnny sitting together in a shitty motel room. They were exhausted and sore, their bodies aching, and Johnny was nursing a few scrapes and bruises from when he had taken a nasty spill off a building. Simon had a concussion, and his eyes were bleary. Johnny had gotten up to grab the first aid kit and started to clean up Simon's wounds, a task that required a lot of careful concentration, which he did with a furrowed brow and his nose scrunched up. Johnny's fingers were gentle as he dabbed at the blood, his touch warm and reassuring. That was the first time Simon had felt comfort in years. That was the first time Simon had felt safe.
"Since forever."
Johnny takes a shaky breath. "Do ye still?"
"Are you kidding me? I never stopped."
"And if I can't remember? If I never remember? Will ye love me then?”
"Always," Simon replies without hesitation.
Johnny feels his heart swell at the reply. He smiles, his cheeks flushed pink, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Then I think I could learn tae love ye again," he murmurs, his eyes searching Simon's face.
"Again?" Simon echoes.
"Again," Johnny replies.
Simon laughs. It's a hollow, bitter laugh, but it's a laugh nonetheless.
“I cannae explain it,” Johnny whispers. “I have no memory of ye. But when I woke up and saw ye in this room — I felt *warm*. It’s like my nervous system recognized ye. And I…” He sighs and pulls out a small sketchbook from his bedside table, flipping through the pages. There’s lots of little doodles, like the view from his hospital room window, stray cats, food he’s eaten, nurses, the sunset, but there's also a few sketches of a handsome blond man, and a page entirely dedicated to the curve of his jaw, the scars on his face, and the shape of his lips. "I think I drew ye, or wanted tae.” he murmurs. “It’s kinda cool, drawin’ a stranger and havin’ him show up tae my room the next day. Ye think I should draw a million dollars next?”
Simon is stunned, and an amused sound escapes his lips. Johnny had drawn him. He had drawn him, and he hadn't even known his name. "I didn't know you could draw," Simon says quietly, his cheeks burning.
"I dinnae either,” Johnny chuckles. “But I had tae pass the time somehow.” He smiles. "I guess we had somethin' important. If I was able tae draw a handsome face like that when I cannae remember my own birthday." Johnny closes the sketchbook and places it on the bed.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember,” he says softly. “It doesn’t mean what we have is gone. It just means I get to fall in love with ye all over again.” Simon blinks, unsure of how to respond. He had never considered the fact that Johnny might have fallen for him too. He had never even entertained the idea that his feelings could have been reciprocated. Simon had spent so much time pining after the other man, trying to suppress his feelings, that he had never stopped to consider that Johnny might have been struggling with the same inner conflict.
"We fell in love twice," Johnny says softly, his cheeks flushing pink.
"Fell in love twice," Simon repeats. "What a pair we make, huh?" he chuckles, his voice thick with emotion.
"Aye," Johnny says softly, smiling. "Ye think we could fall in love a third time?"
"Maybe," Simon says, a faint smile on his lips. "Try not to get shot again, though, yeah? Really pissed me off the last time.”
Johnny chuckles and grins. "I'll do my best, sunshine."
"Sunshine?"
"Aye. That's what ye remind me of. Ye make me feel warm."
"I'm not much of a sunshine."
"Maybe yer right,” Johnny sniffs, studying Simon carefully. “Yer a…” Simon raises an eyebrow. "I think yer more like a storm."
"A storm."
"Aye, a storm. All rain and thunder and lightning. Yer beautiful, but ye have a temper."
"You've only known me for thirty minutes," Simon says, laughing.
"And I know that ye've been cryin’," Johnny replies, reaching up to gently wipe a tear from Simon's cheek. "But storms clear the skies, and bring the sun after. Ye've been cryin' and yer still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Maybe that's a sign."
"A sign?"
"Aye. That maybe I was meant tae find ye again. Maybe that's what I'm meant tae be. The one who reminds ye to come out and play when it's stormin’."
Simon stares at Johnny, his cheeks burning red. "Johnny..." he whispers.
"That's my name, lad," he murmurs, smiling softly. “Don’t wear it ou-“
Simon leans forward and presses his lips to Johnny's. It's a tentative kiss, a gentle meeting of lips. The world seems to stop. Simon can feel the tension leaving his body, the knot in his throat loosening. It's like he's finally breathing for the first time and he can’t get enough. His hands move to cup Johnny's face and his heart feels full and heavy in his chest.
Johnny kisses back, his lips moving slowly and softly against Simon's. He can taste the salt from Simon's tears and the faintest hint of something else — mint and coffee and a scent that is distinctly Simon. It's familiar, even if he can't place it, and Johnny finds himself clinging to it.
The two of them pull apart slowly, and Johnny is grinning.
"That was some kiss," he says, his cheeks flushed pink. "I could get used tae it."
"You should," Simon whispers, smiling.
#ghoap#ghost x soap#simon riley#john mactavish#cod#cod mw3#ghostsoap#soapghost#angst#fluff#pining#fic#sfw#pg#wholesome#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#archive of our own#romance#ghost#soap#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#one shot#hurt/comfort#idk#these two are rotting my brain#rotating them in my mind like rotisserie chicken#writing#mine
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