#like you got a little ribbon for winning

[littleblondesoprano]

Do kids still have Field Day?? Is that still a thing??

#I used to LOVE Field Day #I think we had it in Elementary and Middle school #I most remember middle school tho #littleblondesoprano #field day #these were not field trips #these were letting you outside in the morning and rotating between ‘stations’ all day #all day outside #could be playing soccer at one #and corn hole at another #some had prizes #like you got a little ribbon for winning #or a trophy

[lovelybeesthings]

Dancer

Coriolanus Snow x fem reader

Warnings: Smut, size difference

Context: what if Lucy Grey was forced to kill another tribute as it was down to the two of them and y/n kills Lucy and Snow gets caught with his actions of cheating and sent to distract 6 and meets the winner of the 10th hunger games?

As it was down to two tributes Lucy Grey and Y/n L/n Snow was anxious analyzing each step and preying hopefully Lucy could find a way to win as the snakes were close to Y/n she kept fighting, and her gorgeous hair looked still tactful she seemed innocent but her actions far from it using an axe and he own hands to fight back from dead tributes.

As snow thoughts raced he completely forgot to look at the screen until one sound came out a woman’s scream but..a voice he recognized, once he looked up at the screens he saw Lucy’s gray body lying with blood coming out from her body her dress and corset while the tribute who won y/n closed her eyes crying as she was almost disgusted with her actions and once she opens them she made sure to close Lucy’s a sweet act from a girl who used a salvage method to end another’s.

As he couldn’t look anymore he heard words coming out of the TV “I’m s-sorry, I’m so so-sorry” the girl cried out so innocently at the moment she caused him to snap out the moment he turned his head seeing her mentor cheer and some cheered for them while some watched the screen feeling sympathy for the winner.

As she got up wobbly her hands so slim and skinny were stained with blood from what she knew Lucy and y/n were a bit smaller poor young girls in a hunt and both had hobbies that they were talented about Y/n was credited for her dancing skills and sung a little. So only after the events, Coriolanus was punished for cheating by Highbottem and sent to be a peacekeeper in District 7 where the winner of the 10th games lived.

After settling down he heard from fellow peacekeepers that down at the hub, there was gonna be a little celebration for y/n she had been very popular in her district he'd heard that she truly their angle, and when she was reaped it made everyone devastated, and hopeful something that drew the line between the two Lucy Grey was a girl that was forgetful for distract 12 while Y/n L/n was a name everyone knew a girl who could not be forgetful.

As he went with some peacekeepers he saw her up on the stage in a lovely flower dress Brown boots with roses on them hair half up half down pigtails ribbons holding them she fixed the mic and went back to her bass roses crested on the base red and white which caught his attention soon the remainder of the members came out and the music started to play people danced smiling giggling though his eyes were drawn to Y/n and who playing the bass she had and another girl who seemed like her sister singing in the mic together as Y/n had a sweet smile this wasn't the girl who had murdered cruelly this was a girl who had to fight for her life for people she cared about in the arena.

As they soon changed songs Y/n hopped off the stage to dance with people on the floor a few young children older fellow and some peacekeepers… “would you like to dance Mister?”

He hadn't noticed her appear to him he was taller than the girl her hair was different from what he saw in arena hair (whatever your hair resembles color-wise) he was flushed with emotions but the only one he could think of was he was flustered “I uh don't know how to dance-” he said as he soon was interpreted with her sweet words that felt like honey “it's easy ill show ya” she says as she took his hands to the floor as the music played she put his hands on her hips and her hands to his shoulders and instructs his feet as he watches her boots and her dress and her hair in the wind as she dances he was amazed by her moves and her beauty at the moment.

His face was ridden with pink he was so happy at that moment and before he knew it she had slipped away dancing with the next person as he sighed the feelings she had left him were strong know something he felt with Lucy…but stronger than it as he realizes a ribbon was in his hand the ribbon she had in her hair he soon put it in his pocket and watched from the sidelines, she soon went back up to play her bass and sing.

Something he was surprised about was that she started dancing on the stage with her sister smiling and giggling then after that they wrapped up their instruments and got ready to leave before Coriolanus knew it his legs moved on his own she was on the stage packing her bass kneeling struggling to close the case “gosh dang it!” he was blushing as he swallowed his nervous and spoke “Need some help?” she jumped to the words spoken to her and turned her head softening to his words “Yes, please” he got down on his knees beside her shutting the case “I'm Coriolanus Snow” She beamed even brighter “Well nice to meet you Croyo” his face felt warm to her nickname for him

As he carried out the case for Bass she had led him to her home and when he placed it down he smiled as she began to say goodbye “Thank you again for bringing all the way home for me Croyo” She then tippytoed her boots and kissed him on his cheek and smiled blushing then shutting the door.

(Time skip)

Y/n had opened up about the nightmares and panic attacks she gets about the games and the haunting faces of the people she had to murder the most regret she had for Lucy Grey making her cry into his arms in the moment he didn't even care about Lucy grey he was more into the fact he was able to hold Y/n he felt bad but felt a need to make her always run in his arms aomoem she can turn to the only person she can turn to. He felt that it wasn't needed to tell her about his past in the Capitol he knew at one point he'd tell her but not yet.

“Croyo I want to take the next step in our relationship,” she says blushing not being able to look him in the face “All alright..” he says with a smug face but soon changes once she looks up at him as he runs light kisses down my cheek and jawline, his breath heated on my skin, making me quiver with happiness he began to unzip my dress leaving me in my custom undergarments with roses plastered on them I took him back a minute and then continued to take off his clothes until he was bare naked my eyes traced every bicep very ab and my face becomes red when I get to his “my little rose petal~” he says as I look back up to his eyes as he smirks and unhooks my laced bra and panties giving myself to him.

His hands began to trace the curves of my body and then study each other's mouths, savoring the sensation of each other's warm bodies pressed tightly against one another. He was now holding my breast in his hands and then began to Lick them and bite on the nip causing me to shiver and moan out blushing then His Dick pressed against the crack of my thighs, stretching my yearning pussy open for him the comfort of his touch quickly entered throughout my body.

He slowly sank inside me, filling me, his movements slow and steady. The feeling of his dick in me made me flutter as he was able to see his member in my stomach making me even harder the thrill of each thrust drew me closer to my release, the peak growing within me with each succeeding pulse of his body against mine.

As my eyes rolled back into my skull, his big cock buried deep within me, a loud gasp from my lips as he buried himself even further inside me, his balls smacking against me “Fuck you're so tight” he moaned “So close-e!” I moan as he nods and soon releases inside of me he kisses my forehead and falls on top of me as we both fall asleep to each other naked body.

“I love you y/n,” he says to me slumbering body waiting for a response then speaks again “You're mine forever I'll never let you go I've already made that mistake once I won't let it happen again,” he says possessive holding y/n in his arms and closeting his eyes.

THE END THIS A ONE SHOT

#coriolanus snow x reader #reader #coriolanus snow #fanfic #tom blyth x resder #smut #the hunger games x reader #hunger games

[bcyhoods]

WITH FIREWORKS! STEVE

synopsis : after a date at the carnival, steve gives you your first kiss! (prompt: “was that your first kiss?”)

word count : 1.6k

author’s note : repost from my old blog! i fixed her up a little bit, endured changing past to present tense just for you so….

“Those games were totally rigged,” Steve huffs as he prods at the small teddy bear clutched in his hands.

You’re situated on the hood of his car, smiley lips tinged blue thanks to the half-eaten cone of cotton candy in your hands. Steve stands in between your legs with a pout as his free hand rests beside your thigh, finger itching to graze your skin as it taps the metal of his car. The summer sun has just dipped below the horizon, but his face is illuminated by the multicolored lights of the fair behind you. Even with a sullen attitude, he just looks so pretty.

It was only your third official date — excluding the weekly, hour-long visits to Family Video, which Robin made sure to tease him for — and Steve figured it was time to rattle his feathers, so to speak. He wanted to impress you by showing off his athleticism, and carnival games provided an exemplary opportunity to do just that.

He envisioned your arms full and occupied by the array of giant prizes he won for you. You’d watch with an endearing grin on your face every time he beat a game. The night would end with your arms thrown around his shoulders and the perfect kiss that had you both swooning.

With fireworks in the background, obviously.

But luck had strayed far away from Steve Harrington’s side. Far, far away.

“Oh, they were, were they?”

“Definitely. ‘You can only throw it with an underhand,’” Steve mocks the game attendant with a husky voice — a terrible impression, really, but he knew it’d make you laugh. “That’s a made up rule. For sure. I’ve never heard that rule before. Ridiculous.”

The boy sighs defeatedly, letting you take the bear from his hand before running his fingers through his, now disheveled hair. The brown locks had endured the torment throughout the night as he increasingly became more and more stressed. And he didn’t want to admit he was embarrassed, it felt entirely dramatic and silly. But he was, and the way he avoided your gaze while his teeth worried his bottom lip was enough of a tell.

He laughs meekly at himself and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I was trying so hard to win one of those gigantic bears — too hard.”

You hum as your eyes scan over the stuffie. It was no bigger than the length of your hand. Its body was stiff and straight and a tuft of cotton spilled out from under its right arm due to a couple frayed stitches. The ribbon around its neck was barely being held together with a glob of hot glue.

“I like this one, it’s cute.” At his scoff, you double down, “I’m serious! It’s got a lot of charm to it. It’s perfect.”

You move your attention from the bear to Steve only to find that he’s already looking at you. His gaze is incredibly soft, smile lines decorating the corners of his lips as his tongue is coyly tucked into his cheek. His eyes are brimming with love, you think you might burst the longer they’re on you. He finally lets himself graze the skin of your thighs as a subtle thank you. The attention was all-consuming, it made it hard for you to focus. It was hard to do much of anything really, with him looking at you like that.

Quickly, you clear your throat and look up into the sky in abrupt thought. “I think I’m going to name him…Eve.”

“Eve? Eve the bear?”

“Mmhmm,” you affirm with the wave of the cotton candy, “Eve ‘The Bear’ Bearington.”

A huff resembling a short laugh leaves his mouth as he drops his chin down. Lowly, he mutters, “You’re unbelievable,” before looking up at you again with a doting grin. He moves to shake the bear’s hand gingerly, holding it between his thumb and his index, and bowing his head.

“Nice to meet you, Eve. You’re looking a little rough, bud. Bad hangover?”

You scoff and protectively pull Eve into your chest as if it were a child. The chuckle that reverberates through his chest encourages your heart to dither as heat rises to the tips of your ears. “That was very rude, Harrington,” you reply, feigning shock while trying to fight off the smile creeping onto your lips. It doesn’t work.

“What? No, Eve didn’t think it was rude. I’ve been there before, I’m sure he appreciates my empathy,” Steve argues, eyes momentarily flitting to the cotton candy that sat untouched in your hand for the past few minutes. As he nonchalantly stretches his hand out to pull a piece of the sweet, you move your arm out of his reach.

He glares at you with a tilt of his head. You raise your eyebrows to challenge him.

“Bullies don’t get sweets.”

A small gasp emanates from him before his lips are twisting into an impish lopsided smile. He tsk’s and takes a small step back. “Well, that’s too bad…because it just tastes so,” he looks away innocently, “…much,” he pauses.

”…Better!” He lunges forward earning a yelp from you as one arm wraps around your waist while the other moves to grab at the cotton candy. His fingers curl into your sides, eliciting a fit of laughs and giggles to fall clumsily from your sugar-coated tongue which makes it that much harder to fight against him.

Albeit, you don’t cease, pushing against his shoulder and still trying to stretch your arm as far away from him as possible. But it was no use as he slightly lifted you up off the car for just a moment to pull you flush against him. Your legs reflexively wrap around his hips and once you drop the bear, your unoccupied hand grips a handful of his polo for stability. The action had taken you by surprise, being too distracted to push him away when he ducks his head down to take a bite of the candy floss.

“Yup, just as I thought. Ten times better,” he preaches, letting it dissolve on his tongue to savor the flavor.

You’re sure you look a mess. Your eyes must be glazed over complimented by your lips still parted in shock. Your chest is rising and falling in a quick, inconsistent pattern as you try to collect yourself. Again, Steve has thrown your train of thought completely off course.

“You suck,” you manage to say. It was a lame attempt at an insult. But the words were practically dripping with adoration, all he could do was smile.

“Yeah?”

You nod meekly.

You’re certain he can feel your heart thumping wildly against your ribcage, certain that even through the background carnival noises and both your uneven breaths, he could hear it, as well.

And despite being so sure of your dumbfounded expression, Steve thought you looked so beautiful like this. In disarray, your sweater fell off your shoulders to hang loosely on your arms and your hand is holding his shirt so tightly like it was a lifeline. His eyes dart to your lips to trace over your cupid’s bow before glancing back up to find your eyes.

And you thought he looked just as pretty. His nearness was entirely disorienting. You could smell the saccharine hint of stolen cotton candy mingled with his ever-prized Calvin Klein cologne. His hair had fallen handsomely over his forehead. The moles and freckles scattered across his face are more fascinating than ever as you count them until you reach his lips. How soft and inviting they looked.

You’re so completely enamored, you don’t even register when he leans in, brushing his lips against your own in a feather-light kiss. Your breath hitches in your throat and before you can even bring yourself back down to earth, he begins to pull away.

“Sorry, I thought…”

He moves to step away from you, but your legs tighten around him to keep him in place as your fingers wrap around the wrist on your waist.

“No! I’m sorry, I…it was nice, it’s just I haven’t…I mean, I’ve never…” You swallow down a lump in your throat as you feel your eyes start to water.

The second you glance up to gauge his reaction, you regret it. You watch his eyes widen in realization and feel his grip on your waist go slack. Hiding your face behind clammy hands, you groan and drop your head to his shoulder. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

“Was that your first kiss?”

You nod timidly, dragging your hands down to your lap to wring out your fingers, your gaze immediately following. And Steve is not malicious, he’d never laugh at you, but you feel just a little mortified that you froze up.

“Hey,” he cooed, delicately cupping your cheek and lifting your head. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.” The words are hushed and soft, a sweet reassurance that causes your insides to melt.

“Was it…was it good?” he asks.

The question makes you giggle, “I dunno, I didn’t really get a chance to return the favor.”

He nods, the beginnings of a wide smile slowly making its way onto his blushing face. “Right…do you maybe, wanna try again?”

You mirror his expression before you’re the one leaning in this time, a kiss that he reciprocates feverishly. His lips slot against your own as his arm tightens around your waist once more. Your fingers dip into hair and he hums against you at the feeling before pulling away.

You giggle at the dazed look on his face and his kiss-bitten lips.

“How was that one?” he asks, eyes shamelessly journeying over your face.

“It was perfect.”

#the return of eve ‘the bear’ bearington!! #ᝰ cece’s scribbles #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things #joe keery

[tinkerbelle05]

Bruce Wayne being a proud parent headcanons

Bruce is the type of dad to just endlessly and shamelessly brag about his kids to anyone who would listen. Be it during patrols, galas, PTA meetings, business meetings, hell even JL meetings. The man doesn’t care at all.

Bruce would have a stuffy wallet that’s just pictures of his babies doing wonderful things. There’s a picture of a tiny Jason with a big smile holding a blue ribbon with a A+ on it for winning the school’s spelling bee and right next to it is Damian with a sheepish expression and bright red cheeks, holding an art piece he did that got a 100 on.

Of course what’s in the wallet differs on what Bruce is doing. He’s not gonna pull out a picture of Cass’s recital as Batman, which leads to the rumor of the Batfam wearing their costumes 24/7. That makes them scarier than they were before.

In that wallet, there’s a photo of Dick as Robin smiling with two thumbs up while a goon lays unconscious, a picture of Robin!Tim trying to get a cat out of a tree, and a picture of Signal helping an old lady cross the street while Spoiler holds her groceries.

And of course if said kid is next to him, well expect to have 20 minutes of your time being spent by Bruce Wayne gushing about his little boy. While said “little boy” is like 6’5 and can easily tower over the both of you with a deep voice. And Bruce doesn't even notice (and if he does, he simply doesn't care) and continues with the conversation.

Damian is the most embarrassed by Bruce’s bragging, being unused to this much praise being expressed openly, while Jason and Dick relish in the praise Bruce gives them because Dick is a natural-born performer and Jason is the youngest child at heart who needs to have all of his Dad’s attention on him.

Tag: @bruciemilf, @akikkobara, @growingupbrown, @iwantadamusername, @jasontoddispoly, @odd-spooky-rainbows, @mexican-owlgal, @iamyouraveragestudent, @truck-kunwillbeourlordandsavior, @just-a-gal-with-a-boomerang, @classybananacoloregg, @dimension-hopper, @wiboo07, @adrunkskeletonsduck, @home-of-sexual-and-dumb-of-ass, @queerly-bel0ved, @skylions-den, @seasonsyeetingsstuff, @foulsandwichmusic, @mysteriesgalplusdamianthings, @profoundpacmilitaire, @insanebutteredtoast, @thenamessexual-homosexual, @jasontoddispoly, @bittersweetstargazer, @growingupbrown, @onlyhereforthechaos, @s-ourbuns, @suhnisideup

#bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #cassandra wayne #stephanie brown #duke thomas #tim drake #bruce wayne is a good father #let the man brag about his kids!

[lovebugism]

Play wrestling with bff Steve and getting giggly when he just straight up manhandles you 😭😭😭

✶ ┄ SORE LOSER !

summary: steve harrington doesn't like to let you win until he realizes how good it feels to lose. pairing: best friend!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 1.6k warnings: a lil bit suggestive towards the end, but nothing crazy a/n: i got super carried away with this lol i kinda just took this request and ran with it and well... here we are :) enjoy!

Steve never lets you win. 

He thinks it’s letting you off too easy.

The boy’s competitive to a fault. He can’t stomach a loss, even if it’s in something as meaningless as a carnival game you only wanted to play for the giant dinosaur plushie that’s half the size of you. 

He always ends up giving it to you when he inevitably wins, wearing a big smug smile on his pretty, pink lips. You take it from him with a pout. The childlike scowl is quelled only by the funnel cake he buys you after.

It doesn’t matter what it is — a game of monopoly, trivia questions on the ends of popsicle sticks, taking in the groceries — Steve finds a way to make all of it competitive. He wants to have the most fake money and little fake properties, he wants to shout the answer before anyone else can, he wants to carry more heavy plastic bags than everyone else. Just to say that he did it.

If you put this much effort into school, you’d be in college right now, Harrington, you’d tease.

Not my fault you’re a sore loser, he’d retort. I’ll let you win the next one, sunshine. Promise.

He never does.

You and Steve play-wrestle like a couple of kids. It usually comes out of nowhere. You’ll make fun of him, he’ll shove at you, and you’ll shove back harder. Then it just turns into a game of who’s stronger than who — and it’s always him. Obviously. 

You try your hardest to prove your strength, pushing at him with nimble fists and wriggling something fierce in his hold, but you come out red-faced with a participation ribbon laced within his taunts. And even though he’s got several inches on you and quite a bit more muscle, he never lets you win. Ever.

He manhandles you, perhaps a little too rough at times, but it wasn’t like he had to be kind to you. You weren’t dating or anything, you were best friends — this is what a couple of pals do, right?

They play fight on the carpet of the other’s movie room after being told their closest confidant would murder them in a game of fuck, marry, kill between Anthony Michael Hall and Robert Downey Jr. with zero hesitation.

Friends totally force the other onto the ground by grabbing at the bottoms of their thighs before kneeling over them, wrenching their wrists in their grip and pressing their hands to the ground on either their head.

It’s the definition of being best buds. Truly.

For the first time, you manage to get the better of him. You’re pressed beneath his weight, breathing heavy and rapidly tiring, and you wave the white flag of surrender.

Just when Steve's letting you up and swiping a hand through his mussed hair, you force him onto his back and straddle his waist — like he always did to you — and giggle with mirth at the idea of finally beating him.

He doesn’t find a similar enthusiasm in it, though. His tune changes almost immediately.

You beam down at him, the words of a taunt on the tip of your tongue, and you notice how his cheeks flare pink. His honey-colored eyes widen and his mouth falls softly agape. He glows red in embarrassment and you think he’s just upset that he lost, but he sounds like he’s panicking. The words rush out of his mouth — “Alright, shit, fine— you win, sunshine. Get off, alright? Off, off, off.” 

His hand swats at the side of your knee to hurry you off him.

“Alright, jeez!” you concede with the roll of your eyes, halfway annoyed that he just can’t let you win anything. “You don’t have to be such a sore loser about it, Harrington—”

You understand his haste in that moment, when you feel him brush your inner thigh. Like, all of him — as in, the boner trapped in the sweatpants he’s wearing, all rock hard and raging in its cotton confines.

Suddenly, you’re just as bashful and panicked as he is. 

Your eyes lock at the rock hard realization but neither of you can think of anything to say.

Do you apologize? Do you act like you didn’t feel anything? Do you trust your voice to make a stupid joke so you can move on and forget any of this ever happened? You’re not quite sure.

And in the five-second silence, Steve just wants to die. Internally, he’s praying for a strike of lightning to take him out on the spot because he’s never been more embarrassed in his life.

He’s certain that he’s grossed you out, or worse, made you irreversibly uncomfortable.

In the mess of thoughts running through his head, he tries to rush out some apology that might soothe the awkward air. Your laughter does all the work for him before he can.

It bubbles like sunshine from your mouth, filling the silence and allowing Steve to breathe again. He finds himself chuckling under his breath with you, though he’s still red-faced about it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, sunshine,” he chides with the roll of his eyes, though a smile hints at the edges of his mouth. He rises on his elbows to look at you. “What was I supposed to do? Your tits were in my face and your ass was on my dick— sorry for being human!”

“Sorry, alright? I’m sorry,” you manage through hearty giggles. You settle finally at his side and look over at him, still grinning. “Want me to leave so you can… take care of it or whatever?”

He knows you’re joking but he shakes his head anyway. “Nah, it’ll go away. Let’s just… finish this stupid movie.”

“Stupid movie? You picked it!”

“Yeah, so I could see Kelly Lebrock in a bikini!” he argues back, more thankful for the familiar bickering than he ever thought he’d be. “But you made me miss it!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“Watch it, sunshine,” he grumbles, half-heatedly. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I think you’re the one who needs to worry about finishing, Harrington,” you joke and giggle when he shoves you.

You would’ve helped him, if he wanted you to. You know it’s uncomfortable and that it’s partially your fault. You also know that all of those are just excuses to cover up the fact that you’ve always wondered what his cock looks like.

He’d need only ask you, but you know that he won’t.

Even if he did like you in that way, it’d just make things all complicated. And that was totally the opposite of the effortless relationship you’ve developed with him. The kind of effortless where he can be rock hard next to you, and you’ve both decided to just move on from it.

Steve, meanwhile, spends the rest of the movie not watching a single damn minute of it. He’s too busy trying to calm himself down like a teenage boy and figuring out he can get you on top of him again without being too obvious about the whole thing.

He decides he might just start swallowing his pride and let you win sometimes.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #st drabbles #stevie drabble

[upsidedownwithsteve]

If you’re still in the mood, could you write something for my camp!Steve fav boyfriend? I love him so much🧡🥹

18+

“I can’t believe you managed to lose an oar.”

Steve huffed, squinting at you in the sunlight from his seat across from you. The small rowboat was almost floating in circles now as the second oar disappeared downstream.

“You say that as if it was my fault,” Steve grunted, trying his best to steer the boat in the direction of the camp, with no real success.

You snorted, poking a toe into the boy’s stomach, your shoes abandoned in favour of lying back on the bench under the sun, your dress hiked up high on your thighs to feel the warmth. “It was,” you laughed, squealing when Steve grabbed your foot and squeezed.

“Just as well it’s our day off,” Steve mused. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glare on the water, craning his neck to see the lump in the distance that was Camp Upside Down. “I don’t think we’re getting back anytime soon. The current isn’t on our side.”

You sighed, too dramatically for you boyfriend to think you were actually annoyed. You sat up, stretching before leaning back against the wooden sides. “What a shame,” you pouted, pushing your sunglasses - Steve’s sunglasses - onto your head. “However shall we waste our time?”

Steve didn’t get a chance to ask what you had in mind before you were bringing one foot up to prop against his knee. The skirt of your summer dress falling to the tops of your thighs, smooth skin exposed under his gaze. His brows shot up, his hand slipping on the remaining oar before he swore, grappling before it slipping into the water too.

“Easy, sailor,” you laughed, grinning at his excitement. His cheeks were pink, rosier than before when only the sun affected them. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved away your concerns, his free hand slipping over your calf, bringing your foot to lean higher on his thigh, your legs falling open further. “I’m fine, keep going, baby, don’t let me stop you.”

You snorted, all affection but you continued like you’d planned, fingertips trailing over your own legs to bring your dress up higher, spread thighs showing off the bikini briefs you hadn’t gotten to get wet yet. A forest green colour, tied at the sides of your hips and so, so easy to make fall apart. You fingered the ribbons, teasing, eyes on Steve’s as his lips fell open at the mere suggestion of you baring yourself to him so publicly.

“Babe, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Boo,” you pouted, brows drawn together. “Here I was, just getting used to having you around.”

Steve scoffed, a choked laugh that trailed into a groan because you were sliding two fingers across your covered cunt. “Normally I’d have something smart to say to that,” Steve breathed, “but there’s like, no blood in my brain right now.”

Grinning, you let your foot trail to his crotch, pushing a little at his hard cock through his sport shorts. You played dumb, head cocked to the side as you leaned back onto your elbow. “I wonder where it’s went to?”

“Princess—” Steve warned.

“Harrington,” you bit back.

“C’mon,” he pleaded. His hands were back on your leg, rough and warm and wrapping around your calf until his fingers were trailing upupup and tracing the edge of your bikini briefs. “Gonna lemme see?”

You pulled at one side of the strings, the material falling loose and exposing one hip. Steve swallowed audibly. It would be too easy to pull the green fabric to the side, to let him see how wry you were, how much you loved the idea of him getting to see you like this out in the open. How much you got off on putting on a show for him.

How much you loved to win.

“Say please, pretty boy,” you asked him prettily, your voice all soft and saccharine.

Steve glared at you, knowing this game, knowing you always won. He swore when you pulled your dress higher, a small hand running down the soft pudge of your navel until your fingers dipped into the briefs, toying with your folds. You moaned, eyes fluttering, tongue on show as you brought the same fingers to your lips.

You made a show of licking your digits, sucking one into your mouth as you met his gaze, acting coy, feeling triumphant.

“Please, princess,” Steve rasped out, his cock pressed hard to his shorts, twitching for your attention. “Please?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve baby blurb

[stars4gojo]

All about us

Dad!Gojo x reader // established!relationship, fluff, angst if you squint, parenting Megumi and Tsumiki. // 1.1k words

Gojo’s being irresponsible again and this time you’re not having any of it.  (Not proofread be kind😭)

The school bell rang, signaling the end of another day for Tsumiki and Megumi. As the siblings made their way out of the school gates, they scanned the surroundings for any sign of their adopted father, Gojo Satoru. However, there was no sight of him.

"Where is he again?" Tsumiki huffed, her tiny brows furrowed in irritation.

Megumi sighed, used to their guardian's forgetfulness. "I don't know. Let's just wait a bit longer."

Meanwhile, at the school gate, you stood with crossed arms, tapping your foot impatiently. Gojo was supposed to pick up the kids today, but once again, he seemed to have forgotten.

"This is getting ridiculous," you muttered to yourself.

After what felt like an eternity, Gojo finally arrived, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey there, kiddos!

Sorry, got caught up with some cursed spirits. You know how it is."

Tsumiki rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "You always say that..."

Ignoring Gojo, you took Megumi and Tsumiki by the hand and walked away. Gojo trailed behind, trying to make amends.

"Come on, sweetheart! I brought some snacks!” Gojo presented a bag filled with an assortment of sweets. 

 You shot him a disapproving look. "You're unbelievable, Gojo. You forgot to pick them up, and now you're bribing them with junk food?"

Gojo scratched his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, a little sugar never hurt anyone, right?"

You sighed, choosing to ignore him as you continued walking. The kids exchanged confused glances but stayed silent.

Days went by, and Gojo's irresponsible antics continued. From missed appointments to chaotic dinner choices, you found it increasingly difficult to tolerate his behavior. The silent treatment became your weapon of choice, leaving Gojo to fend for himself.

One evening, as you were preparing dinner, Gojo approached you with a guilty expression. "Listen, I know I've been slacking off lately, but I promise I'll make it up to you. How about a movie night with the kids? My treat!"

You glanced at him, unimpressed. "A movie night won't change anything, Gojo."

He pouted, realizing the severity of the situation. "Come on, don't be like that. I'll make it up to you,I swear."

But your silence spoke volumes, and you continued chopping vegetables without acknowledging his presence. Tsumiki and Megumi, witnessing the tension between you two, exchanged concerned glances.

Days turned into weeks, and your silent treatment persisted. Gojo, realizing the severity of the situation, decided to step up his game in an attempt to win back your affections. The chaos he once brought to your life now seemed to be replaced by an earnest effort to make amends.

One day, as you were in your classroom, teaching at Jujutsu High, you found your desk cluttered with a bunch of beautifully wrapped gifts. Puzzled, you looked around the room, and there stood Gojo, a hopeful grin on his face.

"Hey there! Just a little something to brighten up your day," he chimed, gesturing toward the gifts.

Ignoring him, you continued with your lecture, pretending as if the extravagant gifts didn't exist.

The students exchanged curious glances, aware of the tension in the air.

Gojo, unbothered, decided to take a more direct approach. He leaned against your desk, trying to catch your eye. "I got you all these things to say sorry. Can we talk, please?"

You maintained your focus on the lesson, pointedly avoiding any acknowledgment of his presence. Gojo sighed but didn't give up.

In the following days, the gifts kept coming - flowers, chocolates, even a cute puppy with a ribbon around its neck. Gojo seemed determined to break through your icy exterior. Each time he appeared with a new surprise, you merely accepted them with a stoic expression, refusing to let your guard down.

One afternoon, he brought in a lunchbox filled with a gourmet meal. "I made it myself, with a little help from Nanami," he announced, placing it on your desk.

You glanced at the lunchbox but said nothing. Gojo sighed, frustration evident on his face. The students, now thoroughly entertained by the ongoing drama, exchanged whispers and giggles.

The next attempt at reconciliation involved a grand gesture. Gojo rented out a rooftop restaurant, adorned with fairy lights and overlooking the city. As you finished another day of teaching, he awaited you there with a hopeful smile.

"Come on, let me make it up to you. Dinner is on me," he pleaded.

You walked past him without a word, heading straight for the exit. Gojo followed, desperation in his eyes. "Please, just talk to me."

The grand gestures, the thoughtful gifts, and the persistent efforts seemed to have no effect on your resolve. 

The more Gojo tried to win you over, the more determined you became to uphold your silent protest.

One evening, after another failed attempt to grab your attention, Gojo found himself sitting alone in his apartment. The gifts he had showered you with were scattered around, remnants of his futile attempts to break through your walls.

He sighed, realizing that perhaps the path to reconciliation wasn't through grand gestures but through genuine change. The next day, he decided to focus on being a responsible partner and a reliable father to Tsumiki and Megumi, hoping that actions would speak louder than gifts.

Later that week, Gojo decided to take matters into his own hands. Armed with a bouquet of flowers and a charming smile, he showed up at your doorstep.

"Hey there, beautiful. I come in peace," Gojo said, holding out the flowers.

You raised an eyebrow, still not ready to break your silence.

Gojo sighed, his playful facade dropping for a moment. "Look, I know I've been acting like an idiot.

I promise to do better. For them," he said, nodding towards Tsumiki and Megumi, who were watching the scene unfold.

You softened at the mention of the kids. "Gojo, it's not just about them. It's about us too. You can't keep acting like a child."

He nodded, sincerity in his eyes. "I get it. I'll be more responsible, starting now. Just give me a chance to make things right."

You sighed, finally breaking into a small smile. "You better keep your promise, ‘Toru."

He grinned, relief evident on his face. "You won't regret it, I promise."

As Gojo stepped inside, Tsumiki and Megumi exchanged relieved smiles. Maybe, just maybe, their unconventional family could find a balance between chaos and love.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk art #jjk fanart #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen fanart #gojo smut #gojo smau #gojo x y/n #gojo x geto #gojo x oc

[hopepetal]

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--

They had been running for some time now, chasing after Gem and Scott ever since proclaiming themselves allies. Chasing, without end, prey that was an expert at evading. It was frustrating, and not to mention exhausting.

Pearl took a moment to gasp for air, her footsteps stumbling to a halt. It took Scar a moment to notice, but when he did he stopped as well, turning to look back at her. “You good, Pearl?” he asked, tilting his head slightly in question. 

“Yeah,” she got out, “doin’ lovely, mate. Don’t worry about me, just need a second.” She bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she gasped. Her lungs and legs burned from the strain, and despite his calm demeanor she knew Scar was feeling the same.

It took Pearl a moment to realize that her hair was cascading down around her, falling into her face despite the fact that she had tied her hair back earlier. With a groan, she realized her ponytail had come loose, the ribbon she had used still tangled in her hair. “Hold on,” she got out, straightening back up, “I have to tie my hair back up. Can’t be fighting with my hair down.”

“Wait!” Scar set down his shield and bow before stepping forward. “I have a better idea.” Before Pearl could protest, he gently took the tangled ribbon from her hair. 

Pearl frowned. “What are you planning, Scar?”

“Sit down, Pearl.” Scar lowered himself to the ground and sat with his legs folded beneath him. “I’ll braid your hair.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow, laughing. She still clutched her bow in her hand, looking around nervously– they were almost a full death game in, and she still was on edge. As if she was planning on winning. “You know we don’t have that kind of time, Scar. Gem and Scott are still out there, and who knows what they’re planning?”

Scar shook his head, patting the ground in front of him. “Sit down. We need this rest, you know. Can’t fight too well if we’re exhausted.”

Pearl sighed, reluctantly setting down her bow as she sat. She kept her shield in her hand, laying it across her lap and fidgeting with the handle. “Alright.” She felt Scar pull her hair back, gently beginning to comb his fingers through her tangled locks. “Y’know, the final fight would go a lot easier if you killed me.”

Scar shook his head, still continuing to carefully brush through Pearl’s hair. “You know why I won’t do that, Pearl. I don’t like all those ‘heroic sacrifices’.”

Pearl laughed, continuing to fidget with her shield. Something about her laughter sounded a little bitter, nostalgic for something that had never happened. “Yeah, I can’t imagine why.”

Scar began dividing her hair up into sections, humming softly as he began to braid. “You have nice hair,” he commented, “very shiny. And soft.”

“You think so?” Pearl asked, free hand drifting up to play with one of her free locks. “Honestly, it just gets in the way during these games. I’m thinking of cutting it.”

Scar gasped, though the smile remained on his face. “Oh, I can only imagine… this game hasn’t even given us hairbrushes, the nerve!” After a moment of silence, he continued. “If you cut your hair, I won’t have any to braid, you know. How’s a man supposed to keep his hands busy like that?”

Pearl laughed, finally seeming to relax slightly as she set her shield to the side. “Grow out your own hair, you goof.” There was a sadness in her voice that Scar couldn’t physically understand– he’d never had long hair, so why did she sound like she was grieving something that never happened? And something so small at that.

For Pearl, the reason why was simple. How could she not grieve the parts of her friends that they’d forgotten they’d ever had? A smile that was missing its mischievousness, a laugh that was missing its depth. A look that had no recognition, no shared secrets. Memories like missing puzzle pieces, lost somewhere unknown. That was what she saw every time blood stained the ground, every time family was pitted against one another like soldiers at war.  

Scar continued to braid Pearl’s hair, humming a cheery tune that Pearl knew he couldn’t recall learning. Deft hands paused, lightly holding the strands of hair, before Scar pulled away to grab something. Pearl heard him pick up his sword then hesitate, considering something. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me stabbing you in the back?” he asked, to which Pearl laughed. “What? It’s a serious question!”

Pearl turned slightly to look at Scar, giving him a smile. “If you were going to stab me, Scar, it would’ve been when I asked you to. Besides,” she added, turning back around, “even if you did stab me now, I wouldn’t be upset. You’d get ten extra hearts.”

“Eh,” Scar dismissed, far too nonchalant for a discussion of death, “I don’t need ten extra hearts.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow, though she knew he wouldn’t be able to see that. “You might not think the same when we’re fighting against Gem and Scott, mate.”

Scar cut something with his sword before setting it back to the side, his hands taking Pearl’s hair in them again. “That’s a problem for future Scar. Present Scar doesn’t kill his only friend in the entire server.”

Pearl felt a pang of guilt shoot through her. She knew that feeling well– loneliness, grief. Loneliness was an old friend that had once been her only companion. She recognized that in Scar, in his voice and his eyes. She had seen it once before, in the second game. Not that he would remember it.

He might, soon. The voice that whispered to her was none other than her own, her deepest thoughts given words. He could win this. He could become like us. 

I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, she shot back, unknowingly tensing up. It was a little silly, getting into an argument with herself, but Pearl had always been a rather silly person. Unconventional, even. At one point, she’d been called insane. Perhaps it was fitting.

And yet you want him to win. The voice made a good point– she made a good point. If she didn’t want Scar to win, she could easily just kill him now. She should kill him now if she so desperately wanted to spare him the fate of the victors. He’d put up a fight, and he was good with a sword. Pearl knew that much, knew that there would be a moment of surprise before his eyes narrowed and heart hardened and the battle began. She also knew that he wouldn’t win against her on the chance she did try her hardest, that she fought with all her might.

Scar knew this too, and perhaps that was why he teamed up with her in the first place. Maybe he had found kinship in their shared loneliness. Maybe he’d wanted protection. Maybe he needed a friend. It was unlikely, but maybe he’d felt drawn to her by a bond he couldn’t quite understand, one made by witnessing the violent and sudden end of a server he couldn’t remember. There were a thousand possible reasons as to why he’d chosen her, and perhaps she’d truly never left the tower after all, because the fact he had chosen her at all still slightly baffled her. 

Well. No matter. He chose her, and in the end they’d all die anyway. 

“You have gentle hands,” she commented. “Joel tried braiding my hair before. Nearly tugged my whole head off my neck, that man. It’s a wonder Lizzie’s put up with him this long.” No matter what memories they lost, it always seemed like Joel and Lizzie’s marriage remained an unchangeable fact. Maybe it had something to do with “‘til Death do us part’”, though Pearl wasn’t really sure. 

Maybe she’d try marrying someone when they got back to Hermitcraft, just to see if it carried over to the next death game. And wasn’t that a strange thought, the next death game? There would be another, Pearl knew, if Grian had anything to say about it. He was a little strange like that, but she’d come to expect those kinds of things from her brother. 

“Why thank you!” Scar was beaming, she could tell by his voice. “This just comes so naturally to me. Maybe I should’ve been a hairdresser instead of a trader.” 

Pearl laughed, remembering the intricate braids Scar would put his hair in during Last Life and their home server, Hermitcraft. Although he couldn’t remember them, he remembered how to do them. That was a small relief, at the very least. It was nice to know that her friends kept some parts of themselves, instead of being the blank slates she had originally thought when she first regained her memories. 

“Maybe,” she responded, starting to pick at the grass in front of her, plucking a small flower from the ground. “I’d go to you all the time if you were my hairdresser.” Her voice took on a teasing lilt as she continued. “Just as long as you promise not to do anything too crazy with my hair, alright?”

Scar giggled, his laughter another part of himself that he had kept even after the loss of his memories. “I can’t promise anything, sunflower! Who knows what might happen if you stop paying attention? I might turn you blonde if you aren’t careful.”

Pearl snorted, twirling a strand of grass around her finger idly. “And where do you suppose you’ll get the dye for that, mate? Or the means to make my hair lighter so it’s easier to dye? We’re not exactly exploding with resources here.”

“Hmm, true…” Scar hummed thoughtfully. “We’ve found ourselves in a bit of a pickle, Pearl!”

Pearl shook her head, rolling her eyes. “No, Scar, we aren’t. I didn’t want to go blonde in the first place, so there’s no need to get the materials we’d need for it. Just keep braiding my hair, you goof!”

“Aww, alright!” Scar laughed softly as he went back to braiding Pearl’s hair. “Almost done.” His voice took on an uncharacteristically serious tone. “How are you feeling? Injuries, exhaustion? General… mental state?” He gave a small chuckle on the last one. “I mean, other than the obvious. This game has been… a trip.”

Pearl groaned, stretching out her arms in front of her. “Tell me about it. I lost all of my Mounders.” Her shoulders slumped. “I really wanted them to win, Scar. I really did.”

“I know,” Scar murmured, “and I’m sorry you didn’t get to see that through. You did your best, Pearl.” He paused. “And what about you? I would’ve thought that after all your allies… got out… that you would want to take up the sword and win for them. But you haven’t really… been doing that. You even offered to let me kill you.”

Pearl held back a shudder, wanting to wrap her arms around herself to fight off the sudden cold that had settled over her. “I don’t want to win,” she mumbled, “Even if I did, I don’t think they’d be too happy if I tried.”

Scar made a confused noise. “What was that? I couldn’t quite catch it.”

Pearl shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She took a breath. “I just don’t want to win. Don’t see the point in all this, really. Never have. What’s a victory when everyone else around you is dead?”

Scar hummed thoughtfully, thinking about it. “I suppose you’re right. But in the end, isn’t it better for it to be them than me?”

Pearl chuckled sadly. “Not when you have to live with the consequences.”

Scar paused for a moment, as if struck by a sudden revelation. “...I think I understand. Thanks for, uh, answering my questions.” He continued braiding for another moment. “Alright, I think we’re all done!”

Pearl stood with Scar, reaching back to gently touch her braid. There was a shallow pool of water nearby, and she walked over to check her reflection. “Really, Scar?” Woven into her braid was a sunflower, which must’ve been what Scar cut with his sword earlier. 

Scar laughed, joining her by the water. “Doesn’t it look pretty? I thought it was fitting. And!” he continued, over Pearl’s soft laughter, “it adds some brightness to the whole ensemble!” He gestured at Pearl’s outfit, the same she had worn in her past games.

Maybe she would change up her red look next game. If there was a next game. “It does, it does,” she agreed, stifling her laughter. “Thank you, Scar. I look very pretty now, and my hair is out of the way.”

Scar looked over at her, eyes wide. “You mean you won’t cut it? You promise?”

Pearl smiled, reaching out and putting a hand on Scar’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t cut my hair, Scar. Not after you put so much effort into braiding it. I wouldn’t do that to ya, mate. That’s just cruel.” 

Scar grinned. “I knew I could trust you!” With that, he turned away from the water and walked back to where he had left his sword and shield. 

Pearl spent another moment there, gazing out at the water. Did he really mean that? Did Scar truly trust her? If so, had it just been this small moment that made him let down his guard? No, surely not. Scar was intelligent and cunning, and rarely did he let his walls down for anyone. Something must’ve happened for him to feel this way towards her. Something she had done, or said, maybe.

And that was just if he was being truthful with his words– she knew Scar wasn’t one to ignore the benefits of weaving lies and charm into his speech. He was a masterful manipulator, she knew many underestimated him for the cheery, unassuming front he put up. But that was just another reason as to why he was dangerous.

“Pearl?” Scar’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked back at her ally. “You comin’?”

“Yeah.” Pearl jogged over, feeling much more energized than before. Picking up her bow and her shield, she did one last check to make sure everything she had was in order. Once she was certain, she turned to Scar with a smile. “Lets win this one, Scar.”

Scar grinned in return, red eyes shining. “Why, I think that’s a wonderful idea!” 

Lightning struck the ground as Gem took Scott’s sacrifice, and once again Pearl stopped Scar. “My offer still stands, you know. Kill me and take the hearts, you’ll stand a better chance against Gem if you do.”

Scar pretended to think about it. “I think I’ll stand a better chance against Gem if I have you on my team. So, no thank you! But thanks for the offer. Come on, we can’t let Gem get away!” 

The chase continued, feeling much more light-hearted than the ones at the end of Double Life had been. To be fair, she had gone a little insane in the last few days, but still. Maybe it was Scar’s jovial attitude about killing. Maybe it was the fact that she still had an ally this late into the game. Maybe it was something Pearl would never be able to put her finger on, no matter how hard she tried to think of a reason.

The two inevitably caught up with Gem, who had grown exhausted from the chase. Despite being enemies now, Pearl still felt guilty as she raised her sword to attack, Gem’s wide eyes and shouts of an unfair fight making her hesitate and pull back. It was two against one after all, and Pearl had no intentions of winning. Ganging up on Gem like that felt wrong, but maybe that was just her old bond to the other holding her back. Scar had no such qualms, swooping in when she pulled back to quickly cut Gem down. 

Pearl could hardly believe it had happened until lightning struck the ground, and silence rang between the two as Scar stood over Gem’s body. They’d discovered that bodies remained after the last death when Jimmy had died, but it was still a little disturbing to just see Gem laying there. Like she was asleep. 

It didn’t feel right. 

Pearl had to bite back a snort. Four death games in, and she was still disturbed by the sight of dead bodies. Honestly, it was a little pathetic. She’d killed, and been killed, and yet… somehow, it never got any easier. Somehow, it just got harder. The blood staining her hands had become so much that it was hard to hold onto her weapon, and her scars ached whenever she killed. 

Pearl brushed her braid back over her shoulder and lowered her bow, offering Scar a weak smile. “You did it, Scar. Good job.”

Scar laughed softly, not turning around to face her just yet. “It’s just us two left, then. The last ones alive.” “Mhm. What’s your plan now, Scar?” Pearl kept her voice casual, trying to hide the trembling in her hands. How are you going to do it?

How are you going to kill me?

Scar answered her question by turning and raising his bow. Pearl hardly had any time to blink before he shot her, the force of the arrow sending her stumbling back with a shout. Instinct took over then, and she ran as Scar continued to shoot at her. All thoughts of sacrifice fled her mind as she dodged the flying arrows that missed her just barely, reminding her just how good of a shot Scar was. 

“Going for it immediately, huh?” she shouted back as she ran, pulling her sword. Not that she intended to use it, not to kill. But she would put up a fight. If Scar wouldn’t let her sacrifice herself for him, then she would do the next best thing. She would fight him, and he would earn his victory. Not like the hollow sacrifice Scott made for her, where victory was force-fed to Pearl by his hands. No, she wouldn’t do that to Scar. She respected him too much to throw the fight. 

That didn’t mean she would try to win, not in the slightest. But she would do her best to not make it easy for him. His victory would be painful no matter what she did, but at the very least she could make sure it wasn’t a hollow one.

The next arrow hit her as she ran through the field of sunflowers they had been sitting in just earlier, when Scar had offered to braid her hair. It felt like a lifetime ago as she crashed into the ground, yelping in pain as she tried to scramble back up. “Really, Scar?” She couldn’t help but laugh as she ran, the pain shocking as adrenaline flowed through her veins. 

“This game!” Scar called, continuing the chase as he spoke. “There were more of them, weren’t there? And you won.”

Pearl stumbled, surprise catching her off guard mid-stride. She cursed and turned back, swinging her sword down and catching Scar in the side. He stumbled back, granting her more time to flee– but not enough. As she ran, Scar drew back the bowstring, aiming carefully. A running target was harder to hit, but Pearl was moving in a relatively straight path. All he had to do was aim a little ahead, steady, then release. 

It was over the moment the arrow flew, striking Pearl in the chest and pushing her over the edge of a cliff, sending her plummeting into the caves below. Lightning struck, and then all was silent. 

Scar stood, clutching his bow in a white-knuckle grip. “Pearl?” He took a step forward. The wind blew around him, rustling through his hair and shawl. Sunflowers bowed against the breeze, gesturing in the direction where she’d fallen. “Pearl?! Pearl, sunflower, where are you?” 

The breeze led him a few steps further in a stumbling haze, until he stood at the edge of the caves that he’d sent his friend? Enemy? falling into. He didn’t know what he expected– maybe to see Pearl gazing back up at him, a smile on her face and weapon drawn, hurt but alive– but as he looked down into the caves, he found only the body of his first and final ally.

A presence danced around him, heavier than the wind but acting just like it. She’s dead, Scar. You won. Five words whispered in his ear, as thin as the passing breeze. Five words that would’ve meant the world to Scar, once upon a time. Five words that now meant nothing to him as he gazed down at the body of his only friend.

Crouching, Scar swung his legs over the edge of the cave, slowly and carefully lowering himself down. He had to find footholds so that he wouldn’t fall and possibly lose his life as well– the fight with Pearl had left him with fewer hearts than he would’ve liked. “Hold on, Pearl,” he mumbled as he made his way down to where Pearl lay. “I’m coming to get you, I’m… I’m coming, don’t worry, I’ll be right there.”

He dropped the last few feet, wincing as pain shot up his legs and sapped at his strength. Luckily, the drop wasn’t far enough to cause any actual injury, but it was closer than he would’ve liked. He stumbled to catch himself, pulling himself to a halt in front of Pearl’s body. 

It was hard to look at her like this. Pearl was someone who was so full of life, always. She was strong and fierce, fighting for what she wanted every day, every moment. She never gave up, not once in all the time that Scar knew her. It hadn’t been long, and it was hard to really get to know someone during a death game like this, but Scar had always been pretty good at reading people. 

He knelt by Pearl’s body, brushing her hair out of her face and gently closing her eyes. He didn’t delude himself with pretending she was asleep– what was the point of avoiding death now, when he had caused so much of it? His hands were stained red with blood that he would never be able to wash off. 

Scar lingered a moment longer before shrugging off his shawl and gently wrapping it around Pearl. He was careful with her body, handling her as gently as he could as he settled her back against the stone. There wasn’t as much blood as Scar thought there should’ve been, but he wiped the blood that was there off Pearl’s face as best he could. 

Then, his hands went to the braid. It had held up well, keeping the sunflower he had woven in secured in her hair. He hesitated for a moment before untying the ribbon that held it in place and beginning to undo the braid. 

He began to hum while he worked. Slowly, reverently. A song that came from a place he couldn’t quite remember, a home he once thought he’d never forget. In another world, he would know he was humming the last rites for a loved one, to send them off into the stars. In this world, all he knew of it was the deep, longing ache in his chest and the tears that it caused to spring to his eyes.

Carefully, Scar took the sunflower from Pearl’s hair, placing it down in his lap. He gently combed his fingers through her hair one last time, before tucking it into the shawl. Picking the sunflower back up, he leaned forward and gently kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, sweet sunflower. And goodbye.”

He stood and once more began humming softly, climbing out of the ravine with the sunflower still in his hand. Scar took extra care to not crush the delicate flower as he pulled himself up onto solid ground. The sun was just beginning to set as he made his way toward the Secret Keeper, the intimidating statue that reigned over the entire server. The towering tyrant seemed to gaze down at Scar with eyes he knew he couldn’t see, taunting him with a victory that tasted at best bittersweet. 

It grew dark as Scar approached the buttons, but he held tight to the reminder of the sun’s light in his hand. It gave him the strength to push forward even as his legs threatened to give out from under him. He could not hide the trembling, however, that came from the rush of adrenaline and fear. 

He raised his eyes to meet the invisible ones looking down on him, a challenge held in his gaze, “You wanted me to be the villain?!” he called out, the weight of being watched settling on his shoulders. “Fine! Here I am!” He reached out and pressed the button to succeed. 

Welcome home.

And Scar… remembered. What sounded like thousands of voices overlapping filled his mind, causing him to stumble back with a yelp. He dropped the sunflower, clutching at his head as he was forced to his knees in front of the Secret Keeper.

Sacrifices offered and refused. Atonement rejected, forgiveness given. Arms outstretched, to offer a helping hand. Tears falling into blood-stained water as the two left locked eyes. “For all you have done to keep me alive this long, you may slay me and take the enchanter.”

Bloodied sand, prickling cactus spines, heat waves and cool nights. Two impossible friends, against the world. Traitorous actions, painful fists, a killing blow. “Scar, whatever happens, I think we can count this as a double victory.” 

A loneliness that echoed in the silence around him, howling as the wind at night. Bonds broken off entirely, leaving him with only the stars for company. “Everything that happened last season is null and void. Doesn’t count, okay?”

A bitterness that came from once tasting too much sweetness, like slightly burnt cookies. A loneliness that ached worse than when he had been truly alone, for this ache was born of lies and deceit. “I made them, they’re for your secret soulmate.” 

A moment of joy, in the midst. A time of family, friendship, and security. Before the secrets, before the lies and the pain, before the fire and the red wars. “We’re the cockers!” 

Allies for the first time in what felt like forever. People who truly had his back, no matter what. A place where he could let his guard down and smile, laugh, and live. If only for a moment, he knew what it was like to be loved. He was protected, and he was protective. “You don't go against the family.”

You are seated in a field, surrounded by grass blades, ebbing and flowing through the gusts of your imagination. Each of those blades represent a past life. Memories. Desires. Dreams. And past loves… By plucking one you shall reveal–

“Home,” Scar gasped out, eyes snapping open. “I need to go home.”

You are home.

The presence became louder, more unbearable. Each voice clamored for attention, every new memory begging to be heard. The weight of the universe pushed him into the ground, making him gasp for air in a strained panic. 

It was too much. All the memories, all the emotions– it was too much. Scar yelled in pain as it just grew louder and louder, the pressure growing as the weight pushing him down increased. Just like a volcano, it felt as though he was going to erupt at any minute.

And then a cold wind brushed up against Scar’s skin, weaving and dancing around him. “Enough.” 

The voices instantly quieted, the pressure vanishing as Scar collapsed to the ground gasping for air. He tried blinking away the tears and black spots that cluttered his vision, making it difficult to see properly. 

What he could see, though, took his breath away.

Pearl stood in front of him as a shimmering silver spirit, facing the Secret Keeper with her wings flared out to their full span. She glowed as if she were made from moonlight and stardust, and Scar couldn’t help but stare at her in awe. 

“He belongs with us. You will leave him alone.” Her voice was thin and brittle– as if it might snap were someone able to reach out and grab it. There was an echo to it as well, ringing in Scar’s mind as she spoke.

The feeling of being watched vanished completely, and Pearl turned back to Scar. She smiled a silvery smile, and held out her hand to him. “C’mon, mate. Let's go home.”

Scar took her hand, gasping at the sudden coldness that flooded his body– Death. He stood up, trying not to look down at his body that lay where he had fallen just moments earlier. As he stepped forward to join his friend, he couldn’t help but glance back and notice the sunflower lying beside his body, just inches away from his open hand. Nothing he could do about it now. 

Scar turned back to face Pearl, noticing the three other spirits that had gathered. He remembered them all now. The winners of the previous games. His allies, his enemies, his friends. His eyes caught Grian’s, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Well hello there,” he greeted his old ally with a grin, letting go of Pearl’s hand to bow dramatically. “Guess we finally cashed in on that double victory, huh?”

Grian laughed, rolling his eyes. His expression warmed as he took a step forward, reaching out to take Scar’s hand in his. “Little late, but I’ll accept it. How are you, Scar?”

“Well, he’s very dead, so I can’t imagine he’s doing great,” Scott interjected, ignoring the glare the two avians gave him. “What? I’m not wrong.” 

Scar shook his head. “That you are! I’m actually doing much better now that I remember everyone’s going to come back. Makes me feel a lot less guilty about killing all those people!” 

Pearl sighed, though she couldn’t hide the smile on her face. “Y’know, I felt the same way after I won Double Life. And now the games are so much easier for me! It’s nice to get all the murderous urges out now that I know everyone’s going to be fine eventually.”

“This is why everyone calls you two insane,” Martyn muttered, crossing his arms. “Now can we go back home now? I don’t like hanging out in these servers longer than I have to.”

Grian let go of Scar’s hand to pull up some sort of screen, typing commands into it. “Sure, just give me one second.” He continued typing on the screen, swiping through various options and closing others. “Good game, by the way,” he added, without looking up, “I don’t think anyone expected you to win.”

Scar gave a half shrug. “To be honest, G, I didn’t either! Totally thought Gem was going to get this one.”

Grian nodded. “But that’s just how these games go, mhm? Expect the unexpected. Pearl’s win should’ve taught us that much.” He spent another moment typing before closing the screen. “…Alright, we should be heading back to our respective servers soon enough.” He reached out to take Scar’s hand again, taking Pearl’s hand in his other. 

“Can’t believe we almost have all of the Boatem crew here,” Scar blurted out, “do you think Impulse will join us next time?”

Pearl laughed. “I hope so! I don’t think Mumbo will be winning any time soon, though. So we might just have to settle for four out of five.”

Scar nodded sagely. “You speak very wise words, Pearl. I fear Mumbo may be too… how do people say it? I fear he may be too much of a wet cat.”

Martyn groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

Laughter rose from the group as the code began its work, and they all began to fade away. Grian held tightly to Scar and Pearl’s hands, locking eyes with the both of them. “I’ll see you both soon, okay?”

Pearl giggled, squeezing Grian’s hand in return. “See you soon, Griba!”

“Goodbye!” Scar called to Martyn and Scott, their responding farewells faint as the server faded away around him. 

And then there was darkness. 

And then Scar woke up.

#my writing #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar #geminitay #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #scott smajor #secret life #secret life fanfic

[cognacdelights]

play wicked games, win wicked prizes [1]

gif by @spacedean.

my supernatural masterlist

summary: she craves male validation. he's the best high she's ever gotten. now they're both stuck in a sick and twisted game of foreplay that neither are willing to lose.

warnings: daddy issues — daddy issues galore. self-esteem issues. i am well aware that this is not a healthy relationship and is for entertainment purposes only. sexual content and themes. swearing. alcohol use. religious undertones. small age gap romance.

author's note: this will be in two parts as it's looking like it's going to be around 15k words in total. second part will be released soon. minors have been warned. do not interact.

It was hard to define her relationship with The Winchester Brothers.

There was Sam; and he was just Sam. He was a year older than her, and the epitome of the dorky, older brother that she never had. He played board games with her and helped her with her Calculus homework. They shared book recommendations and did research together. She forced him to play Princesses with her and hold tea parties against his will.

But most importantly he was a friend. She’d never had a friend before. Not until the day that rusted, old Impala pulled up outside Bobby’s shop and John Winchester had all but begged Bobby to take his boys in for just a couple of nights. She remembered it like it was just yesterday — hiding behind the over stacked bookshelf, listening as the two older men argued back and forth. Bobby eventually gave in, as Bobby always did, and waved John off with a stern look and a handful of colourful curse words.

Up until that day, it had always been just her. And Bobby. Bobby did the best that he could, but he wasn’t her father, and he never got a break from the job. There was always a phone going off here, then a bloodied and injured hunter turning up at the door there, or the local Sherrif Department snooping around here, there, and everywhere.

Sam was shy at first. Quiet and introverted. He always had his head stuck in a book. She quickly learned that wasn’t entirely the case, he just took a little while to warm up to you. But once that match was lit, there was no stopping the fully-fledged campfire that burned. They were friends. Best friends, even, at times. They understood each other and found solace in knowing that they weren’t alone anymore. They were two peas in a pod.

Her relationship with Dean was far more complex.

He was older; five years older than her to be precise.

Dean didn’t pay her any attention at first. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her presence. He was hyper focused on Sam; always making sure that he ate his breakfast and brushed his teeth before bed. He was more of a parental figure to Sam than Bobby was. Between looking after Sam and helping Bobby research cases, he didn’t seem to have much time for her at all.

It wasn’t until the day of her eighth birthday that she really seemed to turn a corner with Dean. She spent the day sat on the windowsill, peering longingly out and waiting for her father to arrive. She was dressed head to toe in her best outfit; a white, frilly dress with a matching silk ribbon, tied around her plaited ponytail. Her perfectly polished shoes swung back and forth in anticipation as her chestnut eyes lit up with a hopeful glint at every swoosh of the trees and roar of an engine. She was so damned sure that he would come. Why wouldn’t he? He was her father. It was her birthday.

Dean knew that he wasn’t coming. He’d been around the block enough times to know how this played out, and it was never a happy ending. When the sky began to darken, he eventually sat beside her on the old, flattened cushions — a slice of cherry pie, topped with a singular lit candle, in his hand. He caught the saddened look that dimmed her eyes as the realisation began to set in.

Her father didn’t come that day, or the next day, or even the day after that. There wasn’t even so much as a phone call. He pulled up six weeks later with a broken arm and unrecognisable letters etched into a torn and bloodied piece of paper. The only reason Andrew Lawson had returned was to seek out Bobby’s help in translating the words. There was no big, shiny make-up gift, no birthday card, no apology. Just yet another rejection; he shooed her away so the adults could talk.

Dean, once again, saw the flash of hurt that glazed over her eyes. It pained him, because he saw so much of himself in her. He too had forgotten birthdays, and excitedly watched out of windows for his father to never arrive and had been banished from rooms so that the adults could talk. He too had been shoved to the very bottom of the priority list, and the knew the weight of the anguish that came along with that. He knew what that did to a child’s self-esteem.

As they grew older, they became closer.

Dean was a big part of her life. He taught her how to play soccer, including all the dirty plays to win the ball without the referee noticing. He taught her how to fight, and how to shoot a gun. He taught her how to drive — albeit illegally in a stolen, clapped-out banger that they joy rode around the backroads of Souix Falls. He gave the Lawson girl her first cigarette when she was just fifteen, much to Bobby’s dismay. He smoked up her first joint with her on the hood of The Impala. He bought her a four-pack of beer to take to her first high school party and drove her home, so she was safe. He took her to her first bar. He took her on her first hunt. He patched up her wounds. He bailed her out of jail after her first arrest.

They fought like cat and dog, and as only they could. Over anything and everything; the TV remote, supernatural lore, the rules of Monopoly. Whether she was ready for The Hunt. They used to drive Bobby insane with their bickering — with all the door slamming, and flipping off, and the countless “Son of a Bitch” curses that would echo through the house.

As she’d reached her twenties, they’d become the epitome of comfortable with each other. Perhaps too comfortable at times. They’d shared beds together and slept beside each other in the backseat of The Impala. She’d wear his clothes — his flannel shirts as jackets to keep herself warm, or his old, logo-printed t-shirts to bed. She was open about her sex life, as he was too. She’d brush her teeth whilst he was in the shower, and vice versa. She’d flitter through their motel rooms in nothing but a skimpy towel. She’d sit in his lap if there wasn’t a seat, or sometimes even if there was, and lay her head on his shoulder when she needed some soft, human contact. He’d run his fingers through her hair. He’d tug her jeans up by the belt loops, over the strings of her thong, and pull the hem of her skirt down as she drifted past him.

Somewhere — somehow — along the line, they had found themselves locked in this sick and twisted game of foreplay. Teasing. Taunting. Toying. It never went further than some light touching, but their mouths were nasty, and their thoughts were downright vulgar. They got a perverse kick out of it, especially her. In all the rejection from her father, she had turned to seeking out male validation to fill the void and Dean Winchester was the ultimate high; the random, slick-jawed man at a bar would give her a five-minute high at most before the shame would set in, but Dean would have her orbital for days. One look, one touch, one quick-witted comment would have her floating amongst the constellations.

And then, he died. Well, so she had assumed. Sam had explained that he was gone. Just gone. Nobody knew where, or how. He was just: gone.

Her world turned upside down. There were no more Orion-level highs, just five-minute boosts to her ego before the guilt-ridden shame would drag her back down into a pit of self-loathing. She swept her way through The South — hitting bar after bar, bedding man after man, destroying monster after monster. She drank and she smoked until she didn’t even recognise herself in the mirror anymore.

Until her phone rang — a number that had once been disconnected flashing across the screen. Sam Winchester.

“Good morning, you’ve reached Maggie May’s Flower Shop. How may we help you today?” she put on her best Southern Belle accent. Even though she knew damned well who was on the other end of the phone, she still turned out her spiel. She would be damned to the darkest corners of Hell if she didn’t put him through the ringer after almost a year of no contact.

“Maggie—” a timid voice sounded throughout the speaker, “—it’s Sam.” He waited anxiously for her to respond but when she remained silent, he was forced to continue. “We need your help.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know a Sam. Have you placed an order with us?” Maggie shot back with a sickly sweetness to her tone.

There was a heavy breath on the opposite end of the phone. “Come on, Mags. We’re working a case, and we could really use your help… It’s rough out here.”

“May I suggest our apology bouquets,” she continued, standing her ground, “they’re just divine. Will smooth over almost any of your wrongdoings.”

“Apology bouquets—” a deeper, gruffer voice chuckled, “—what did you do?”

Maggie instantly dropped the Southern Belle façade. “Dean?” she questioned, voice dripping with surprise.

An uncouth melody of noises permeated from the phone. A whack. A loud groan. A grumble of curse words. “You didn’t tell her, Dumbass?”. Followed by rustling and shuffling. Then mumbling. They were arguing. Maggie couldn’t comprehend exactly what they were arguing over — the line was too crackly, and she was too hungover to concentrate — but they were most certainly at each other’s throats.

“Hello?” she huffed impatiently.

“Maggie May,” Dean’s husky voice filled her ears, “how you been?”

“Uh—” she didn’t know how to answer that question. The honest answer was far too much more than she was willing to give away to anyone, but to say that she had been just peachy would have been a downright lie. Both Dean and Sam would have seen right through it. “I’ve been more Sober in my life—” she bit her lip, despite the two brothers being unable to see, “—and I don’t remember getting back to my motel room. But I’m alone, so I think that counts for something.”

“How quickly can you get to Stillwater, Oklahoma? We’re working a job and could use you right about now.”

She rolled herself over under the quilted comforter until she teetered on the very edge of the bed, her dark locks falling into her face. “I don’t think I should be driving right now,” she admitted, vision blurry as she peeled herself out of the warmth and stumbled her way towards the bathroom. She pulled on the string for the light and was immediately met with harsh, white lighting. Her head throbbed as she let out an involuntary groan.

“Jesus, girl, how much did you drink?” he asked — his face scrunching up at the lethargic pads of her feet and the uncomfortable groans that echoed through the speaker.

“Enough to drown a fish,” Maggie mumbled back.

She stared at herself in the mirror; her eyes were bloodshot, and a dark, mauve bruise painted her cheek an unsightly manner. She hissed quietly as she ever so gently reached her fingers up to touch it. Bad idea. It pulsed with pain. On further inspection, she had a busted lip — dried blood coating the thin cut.

“Atta girl, I suppose.”

“I can be in Oklahoma in a day—” she answered, running the tap, “—but you’re gonna have to give me a few hours before the single vision kicks back in.” She splashed the cool water over her face and instantly regretted it. “What’s the case?” she asked.

“Two deaths at an all-girls Catholic boarding school,” Sam cut in.

“We can’t get close enough to figure out what’s going on,” Dean added.

“I guess I’ll start practicing my Hail Marys then.” Swiping the towel over her freckled features, she left the phone balancing on the edge of the porcelain sink.

“No amount of Hail Marys are gonna save you.”

She spat a response, “bite me, Winchester.”

“I’m sure you’d love that, sweetheart—” Dean chuckled, “—but we’ve got a couple of civvy deaths to deal with first.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

It had been a long twelve hours on the road, and by the time Maggie’s old, beat-up pick-up truck pulled into the motel parking lot it was pushing midnight. The red, neon light of the sign cast down onto the black asphalt, dimly lighting up a path to the several motel room doors, and the few wall lamps flickered every couple of seconds. The walls were peeling their beige paint — as if shedding all their unspoken sins away — and rusted, metal chairs lined the tiled walkway. It couldn’t have looked any shadier if it had tried.

Maggie killed the engine, watching as the warm lamps of her headlights faded into the darkness. She stepped out, the thick soles of her boots hitting solid ground for the first time in what felt like forever. The midnight air ran bitter, but it was a welcomed reprieve from the humid temperatures of New Orleans. A chill crept along her spine like two gentle fingertips — however, not a patch on Dean’s. She tugged the sleeves of her over-sized flannel over her fingers and proceeded down the walkway, leather duffle bag in hand.

If she hadn’t had it drilled into her that you always pick the motel room closest to the exit — in case the need for a quick getaway ever arose — the sleek, black Chevrolet Impala parked outside would have given which room they were staying in away. Well, that and the gruff sounds of their arguing. The curtains were pushed closed, but there was a light on in the room; two tall silhouettes appeared in front of the window as what she could only assume was the TV flashed advertisement after advertisement in the background.

“I’m not a child anymore, Dean—” Sam’s husky tone echoed through the courtyard, “—you don’t get to make decisions for me. If I say I’m good, then I’m good.”

Maggie stuffed a hand into the pocket of her flannel and retrieved a credit card; it was and old one in an alias that she no longer went by — most likely maxed out and with a red flag marked against it on the system.

“No, you don’t get to make these kinds of decisions when you take a year out,” Dean shot back. His voice was deep and gravelly, a sure sign that he’d been drinking. “You’re out of practice.”

She slid the credit card between the mouldy, wooden door and its frame and pressed her weight against it.

“This isn’t about me being ‘out of practice’,” Sam deduced — his words turning more accusatory than defensive, “why don’t you tell me what this is really about? Get it all out in the damn open.”

It was a tough lock, which was surprising for such a run-down, old motel; they were usually a lot easier than this to crack open. Maggie persevered, forcing the credit card into the gap with a masterful wiggle.

Dean argued back, “you’re slow, and you’re weak, and you’re not thinking ten steps ahead. You’re a freaking liability right now and I don’t have the time to be playing search and rescue every time something goes down.”

She found the sweet spot, and with a glorious click, the motel room door opened. She stepped inside, a satisfied grin curling the corners of her full lips upwards. Who needed a key card?

Within a matter of milliseconds, Maggie was staring down the barrels of two handguns — locked and loaded with two ring-cladded fingers hovering over the triggers. Two mean glares stared her down. Sam and Dean. She merely cocked her head to the side as a lopsided smirk swept across her fair features. She teased, “don’t you boys know it’s rude to point your gun at a lady?”

“Yeah?” Dean shot back with a surly attitude, “let me know when you find one.” He stood down, easily slipping the gun back into the waistband of his scuffed-up jeans.

She pouted playfully in response.

“Maggie,” Sam addressed her. His voice was significantly softer, almost breath-like, as he raked over her with guilt-ridden eyes. He followed suit and stood down. He nonchalantly threw his loaded weapon onto the half-made bed before looking back at the petite brunette before him. Sam wasn’t sure what else to say; in fact, he wasn’t sure that there was anything he could say to make the tension dissipate. Maggie May was going to hold a grudge for as long as Maggie May pleased.

“Sam.” Her chestnut eyes scoured over him in return. They started at the very top — taking in his long, mahogany locks. They were longer, but more kempt. He was wearing a new flannel shirt; she’d never seen him in a flannel of that colour. He still wore the worn, leather watch that his dad had given him, but it was set ever so slightly fast. The jeans were new too. There were no scuffs or rips, but the boots were worn in and old. She returned her gaze upwards and met his eyes for a brief second.

Then, she looked away. Her eyes caught the elder Winchester brother and immediately illuminated with a spark of relief. She let go of the leather handles and let her duffle bag drop to the floor with a soft thud. She took a step towards him, and then another, before wrapping her arms around his neck. Maggie held him tight, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck as she stood on the tips of her toes.

“Dean.” His name was quiet and mumbled, almost as if she didn’t quite believe that he was there. She took a long breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his deep amber cologne. God, she had missed that smell.

A reticent laugh slipped from between his chapped lips. He placed a gentle kiss into her messy wisps and mumbled — the words quiet, as if they were ever only meant for her to hear, “Maggie Mayhem.” His burly arms wrapped around her slender figure and held her into his body just as tight. The palm of his hand laid flat against the bottom of her back, slipped beneath the hem of her leather jacket, and the pad of his thumb carefully stroked back and forth.

Realising the vulnerability that had clouded her voice, she steeled herself and mocked, “when are you finally going to stay dead? This is what— the third time now? Obituaries are expensive, you know.”

“I’ll write you a cheque for your losses,” another husky chuckle rumbled through his chest, unphased by her teasing.

Maggie felt Dean’s grip loosen around her and him begin to pull away. She wasn’t quite ready to let him go just yet, and instinctively held him tighter. She’d missed him — she’d missed that orbital high that came with his attention, his touch; and her damaged soul most definitely needed the recharge. It had been a long, emotional rollercoaster of a year without him. A few more seconds wouldn’t hurt. “Not yet,” she told him.

Dean simply relaxed — resting his chin atop her head and allowing her to melt into the warmth of their embrace. His hand dropped to her hip and leisurely hooked itself into the beltloop of her fitted jeans. He gave it a tender tug, covering the black string of her thong. He felt the tickling brushes of her eyelashes against his neck as she rolled her eyes in typical Maggie May fashion.

Sam merely watched on awkwardly. Him and Maggie were as close as two best friends could be, but they never quite reached the level that Maggie and Dean had; they were something different. What, he had no idea. It wasn’t his business, and neither of them were vulnerable enough to divulge anything like that to him. He’d never expected to receive the same greeting as Dean, but the frost-like look and the forced out of the weird uncomfortableness that hung over their friendship half-smiles made him feel a thousand miles away. He felt defeated, and tired.

Eventually, she retreated from his embrace feeling suitably secure. She left a small gap between their bodies and peered up at him, taking him in. His features were ever so slightly more weathered — framed by a dark but well-kept stubble. His lips were still full but dehydrated and his eyebrows untamed.

Dean frowned as he finally noticed the bruise that painted her cheek an unsightly shade of plum. “What happened to your face?” he questioned — his finger propping her chin upwards for him to gage a better look, and his thumb securing her in place.

Maggie rolled her eyes once more at the protective undertones, pulling out of his grip and turning her back to him. “It was just some stupid girl whose boyfriend couldn’t control his wandering eye, that’s all,” she shrugged her shoulders at the half-truth and retrieved her duffle bag from the floor, “she caught me off guard.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in response — not entirely believing her; Maggie May had a knack for finding trouble.

“So, uh—” Sam shoved a hand into the depths of his jean pockets, “—the case?”

Maggie stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, her chestnut eyes settling on her bare features. Her eyes were tired and heavy after the long drive to Oklahoma, and surrounded by two cushions of dark circles. Her skin was dull and fair, more than likely from the lack of natural sunlight that she had seen in the last God-knows-how-many months of crawling through bars and spending her days sleeping off hangovers in shady motel rooms. The mauve bruise that tarnished her cheek looked angry and painful — deepening as the blood settled and the tissue began to repair. Her busted lip was sore, aggravated by every slight movement she made. She looked like a ghost — physically and metaphorically; her vessel was very much present but there was no light behind her eyes, and no spark in her soul.

She continued to stare into her own reflection, meeting her own gaze in an intense battle under the harsh bathroom light; she was a mess, in every sense of the word. If she were to stand before her younger self, she wouldn’t have the slightest indication of who she was. Hell, she wouldn’t even recognise herself if she bumped into her from a year ago. All the years of being on the road, all the losses that she had felt, and all the rejection that she had faced had finally caught up to her — and it wasn’t a pretty sight, to say the least.

There came the ever-familiar waves of no self-worth again, hitting the solitude rocks of her self-esteem at full force.

She pulled a tube of antiseptic cream from the makeshift first aid kit. Squeezing a small dot onto her finger, she then dabbed it against the crusty cut on her lip, careful and tender with her touches. A quiet hiss involuntarily slipped between her lips as her dark eyebrows furrowed into a frown. The ointment burned as it seeped deeper into the cut.

Maggie turned her head and peered out of the open bathroom door. Dean was sat in the leather armchair — jean-clad legs manspread, a police report in one hand and a freshly-cracked bottle of beer in the other.  There was a pensive aura that surrounded him. His fingers gripped the beer bottle with a tightened grasp, and his jaw had locked, almost as if it was holding back a barrage of thoughts. He stared intently at the words printed on the page, yet never turned to the next. There was something on his mind.

She saw it as an in. A reason. An excuse.

Letting the half-used tube of ointment fall into the sink, Maggie wandered back into the bedroom space. She was quiet and soft in her movements — almost timid — until she reached Dean. His eyes remained fixed on the police report, and a pang of upset coursed through her; Maggie was used to commanding his attention — his heavy-lidded eyes falling naturally on her and feeling the heat of his stare.

Her bare knees fell either side of his body as she straddled his lap, the hem of the over-sized t-shirt exposing the glorious lengths of her thighs. With one swift motion, she’d stolen the freshly cracked bottle of beer from his grasp. Her lips twitched upwards into a smug, but angelic, smile as Dean raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. The bottle ghosted her full lips — the very tip of her tongue tracing the rim in an enticing circle as her chestnut eyes locked with his, before taking a long swing.

Dean watched attentively as Maggie had her fun, his eyes glued to her. She was so effortlessly seductive; everything about her — from the way her delectable thighs spread open in his lap, to the way her tongue ever so slowly traced around the bottle rim, and the way the thin fabric settled over her taut nipples and the piercing bars — exuded lust. Piercings? That was new.

His tongue dragged along his bottom lip in an effort to quench the thirst that had been awakened in him. Although, it barely scratched the surface. It had been a hell of a long time since his engines had been roaring, nevertheless had been taken for a test drive; he’d spent the last year wandering purgatory in survival mode, where he rarely ever found a second to breathe. Maggie May was well and truly testing his patience in that moment. And boy, did she know it…

He reached for the bottle, but it was promptly moved from his grasp.

Maggie stretched upwards, holding the half-empty bottle above her head, and peered down at him with a taunting glint in her eye. He reached once more — shifting himself into the most compromising position. He reached upwards once more, unintentionally pushing his crotch further against Maggie. Big mistake. She rolled her hips in a flirtatious retaliation, arching her back and pressing her clothed pussy against his lap.

It took every ounce of strength not to give in to her, but he did it. Dean remained steeled — the deep, husky groans that begged to be released begrudgingly shoved down into the very pit of his stomach, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He was semi-hard beneath her, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, as he placed his firm hand on her thigh. It was a gentle but commanding hold as his ring-cladded fingers slipped beneath the over-sized t-shirt and gripped the skin, his thumb rubbing tender back and forth patterns against the inside of her thigh.

“Maggie May,” he warned.

“Yes?” she cocked her head to the side innocently.

“Don’t start something we can’t finish.”

“Aw, cute—” she taunted with another leisurely roll of her hips, “—you don’t think you can make me cum.”

A fervent groan slipped from between his lips as his dick grew harder against the constraints of his jeans. His jaw tightened as his fingernails pressed crescent shapes into her skin, forcing her to be still. Choosing to ignore her teasing, he sent her a deathly glare — one that dared her to try that move again; it appeared to have worked as she relaxed her posture, sitting herself innocently on his erection and keeping still.

Placing the police report down on the wooden table, he gestured with his finger for her to return his beer.

Reluctantly, she handed it back, but not before she took another large gulp.

Dean took a swig of the now half-empty beer and allowed his fingertips to wander. His hand moved further up her thigh, his fingers catching and tangling themselves in the string of her thong. His thumb dragged ever so tenderly over the crease in her hips where legs bent, tracing back and forth motions. It was so instinctual, as though his hand gravitated towards there — like the soft dips in her skin were made for the palms of his hands.

Maggie stared down at him with sensual, umber eyes. Heavy-lidded and burning with a heat fuelled by the dopamine that coursed through her veins. This was it. This was Maggie in her element; enriched by the power of holding every last drop of his attention, alive and awakened by the electricity of his touch, and riding a high so orbital that her soul was one with the solar flares of the sun. She felt like herself again — full of confidence, and full of life.

“You finally got ‘em pierced then?” Dean mused with a questioning raise of his eyebrows and his gaze trained on her taut nipples. They pressed against the thin fabric of her over-sized t-shirt, practically on show for the whole world to see.

For a brief second, her eyes dropped to her breasts — following his. Then, she responded with an audacious smirk. “I sure did,” a low laugh slipped from between her lips, “wanna see?”

Dean tilted his head backwards as he repositioned himself in the chair. His hips shifted forwards and his shoulders slouched into the cushioned back of his chair. He tipped the bottle downwards and emptied it’s remaining contents in a slow and tactical swig. Of course he wanted to see. He was steeling himself; it truly had been a long time since he’d had any sexual gratification and the immediate flashes of her naked body above him — pierced tits bouncing playfully as she rode him under the warm, orange glows of the motel sconces — had sent him into an oblivion. Maggie May was becoming harder and harder to resist.

He somehow managed to remain calm, dowsing the fire in the pit of his stomach with his beer and plastering an unfaltering poker face across his features. That was until he felt his dick harden and strain against his zipper, giving him away.

Maggie felt it too and responded with another leisurely roll of her hips. A devilish glint occupied her eyes as her smirk grew wider. Damn, that girl would be the death of him one way or another.

“Those daddy issues got you well and good, haven’t they?” Dean retorted. He placed the empty beer bottle on the table.

“Uh huh—” she agreed with a sardonic grit to her words, “—my daddy didn’t love me enough so now I need men twice my age to tell me how good my tits look to get me through the day.” She leant forwards, back arched, and pouted her full lips. “Either tell me how good my tits look or take it up with Andrew. If you can find him.”

Hooking his finger beneath the hem of her shirt, his beer-soaked breath fanned against her face. “You’re every therapist’s wet dream.”

“Glass houses, Winchester.” She paused for a second as the pad of her finger traced his jawline. The coarse hairs of his stubble sent a shiver running down her spine. “I’ll book a couples session—” she dropped her hand, “—and we can both hash out our Daddy demons. Maybe then we’ll finally stop playing this silly, little game with each other and fuck for real.”

She wasn’t far wrong. In fact, she’d hit the nail flat on its head. Whilst Maggie’s father was an absentee who had rejected her in every possible way that he could find, Dean’s father had placed unrealistic expectations and responsibilities on him from a young age. Both carried the burdens of their father’s parenting styles, or lack thereof; both would very much benefit from a professional listening ear and some advice on how to form healthy adult relationships. But, alas, they were here.

“Now, hold up—” Dean’s tone was thick and gravelly as he began lifting the hem of her shirt with his finger, “—let’s not fix what ain’t broke. Show me them pretty, pierced titties.”

Maggie pulled her t-shirt up, holding it in place and revealing her bare breasts. Her nipples were a delicious rose colour and tightened into little buds as the silver bars pierced between them.

He dragged his tongue along the length of his bottom lip again, admiring the sight before him. And what a sight she was. His finger ran slowly underneath the waistband of her baby pink thong. Yes, baby pink thong with a sweet, satin bow in the very middle of the waistband. That had surprised him; Dean had never pinned her down as being a pink and frilly bows type of woman. He’d always thought of her as red and black lace. Nevertheless, the way the fabric fit her body so perfectly still made his skin burn and his mouth run dry.

With a gentle tug, he pulled the string up over her hipbone and let it sit. He then traced her skin upwards — lackadaisical with his movements. The calloused pad of his finger brushed over a scar that tainted her stomach. An old, healed over stab wound. His touch was tender as he sketched the outline of her silhouette, until eventually landing on her breasts. He cupped her boob with his warm palm and allowed his thumb to ghost over her poised nipple.

She let out a jagged breath at the contact.

Dean found his rhythm, circling his thumb over her sensitive bud and rolling it between his fingers.

“Ohhhh.” Maggie let out a breathy moan as she rolled her head backwards. It was an involuntary reaction that she couldn’t stop even when channelling every ounce of might that she had; it was carnal and deep-rooted within her. As was rocking her hips back and forth in a slow and salacious cadence. She was acting on pure instinct and throwing absolute caution to the wind — acutely aware that neither had dared to venture this far with one another.

Dean sat forwards, his now moist lips almost instantly finding her other nipple. His tongue traced a slow circuit around her sensitive bud before his teeth nibbled ever so gently. He sucked, and licked, and nipped to his heart’s content — spurred on by the lustful whines and breathy moans that spilled, one after the other, from between her lips.

She reached her hands between them, her voluptuous hips coming to a gradual stop, and fiddled with the button of his jeans. It was hard to undo them one-handed — the angle was awkward and the old, metal button was stiff — but she managed. Her dainty fingers slipped inside, palming his erection through his boxers until his rugged breaths didn’t send shivers jolting down her spine. She wanted more; she wanted to hear the strangled, husky moans that crawled from the very depths of his throat as they made skin on skin contact.

Maggie pulled his hardened dick from the constraints of his boxers and curled her fingers around his length. She pumped him up and down, revelling in his grunts and groans. They vibrated against her delicate skin and sent shockwaves of electricity through her body — right down to the very tips of her fingers and toes. This was it. This was Maggie at the very peak of her orbital high; she was sat atop the world, spinning aimlessly with the constellations and soaking in the vibrant solar flares of the sun. She was as high as she had ever been, and she wasn’t sure she was ever going to come down from this point. She was lost to the cosmos.

She peeled back the fabric of her damp thong and positioned herself above him. The tip of his dick leaked with pre-cum as it ghosted over her folds — coating himself in her slick.

Then, as he found her entrance, the unmistakable roar of his 1967 Chevy Impala engine sounded throughout the motel room. Maggie whipped her head towards the window — the blaring headlights blinding her, even through the old, dust-covered curtains. It was Sam. With almighty impeccable timing.

She swiftly turned back to face Dean, who had begrudgingly detached himself from her breasts, and looked down at him. A pained expression contorted her blush-tinged features as she let her panties go and stood from the chair. She took a step backwards, then another, and another, until she found the cheap quilt of the bed. She sat down and clamped her thighs together — eyes dazed and her core utterly aching for the man before her.

Dean stood from the chair and tucked himself back into his boxers. His jeans remained unbuttoned and loose around his hips. He dragged a hand through his dishevelled hair as his chest heaved up and down. “I’m gonna…” he nodded towards the bathroom as his words fizzled out, his sentence incomplete.

All Maggie could do was nod in understanding and watch as he disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing swiftly behind him. Her breaths remained heavy as she struggled to calm herself down — her cheeks still stained vermillion and her temperature almost feverous. The sound of the water running flooded the motel room.

Shit. There came that rapid descent back down to Earth.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles

[tonixe]

—santa baby

A/N: Another Coriolanus Fic, I know, im obsessed. But I'm still in love with him. Christmas special, and the votes were counted, and the winning side was smut, not surprised though. I wanted smut too!

WARNING: fingering, creampies, virginity loss, p in v, teasing, groping, breeding kink, oral sex (male receiving), cum eating.

PAIRING: Young! Coriolanus x virgin!reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

You enjoyed the holidays, the festive decorations, and the lovely atmosphere of the holiday, it filled you with much peace and joy throughout the month. But this month was your favorite, Christmas is a day that you get to gift people, and though people coup up in the Capitol, you were spoiled with many gifts from your parents and others, but you especially liked to gift people with your own expensive, spoiling others made you feel happy, enthralled even. Surprising from someone of your caliber to say.

You especially liked to gift your loved ones, your mother, father, siblings, and especially your beloved, Coriolanus Snow. You were in distress about what to gift him for this especially holiday, though you knew he always got something to satisfy your craving for luxury. You didn't know at all, even trying to talk to Tigris about what Coriolanus always wanted, she, herself didn't have an answer for this difficult question. A thought bloomed in your mind, though of the four years of marriage you shared with Coriolanus, you never ever had a sexual encounter with him. Was gifting him your virginity too scandalous, but you didn't know anything else that would do it for him, he did have everything a man wished for,

What would a president of Panem want for Christmas, you sat down and read through catalogs and catalogs of magazines to get you an idea of what to do. You knew Coriolanus adored having you wearing lingerie, especially the lacy ones that showed skin, you felt queasy at the idea, your cheek getting hotter by the second, pursing your lips together, but there wasn't any other way...right?

Your idea was to make a special set of lingerie for you to wear for Coriolanus, you wanted something that would match his signature red suit. Something lacy, with ribbons and cute little bows. You manage to get a tailor that would set up the special lingerie collection. Attending the fitting was hard, especially with Coriolanus wanting to know where you are every second, can't have Panem's prized jewel going missing?

You had a bunch of peacekeepers guarding your every move, walking into the tailor shop and out, even going inside. It was hard to keep this secret hidden from Coriolanus, especially with the loyal guards who reported your every move. But you manage to keep the secret, even making the tailor meet you in a secluded area of the shop to get the measurements.

But in the end, it was able to be complete, the dainty luxurious fabric into a piece of lingerie fitted for your delicate curves, it was a babydoll delicate, with stockings with matching bows on the top of the seams. It was perfect, you hoped that would enjoy that gift, but some part of you doubted. Days after days passed, and it was the prized day, the day you were ready for.

You snuck out of your shared chambers, your plan was to surprise him, writing down a little note and leaving it by his side. Taking out the box with the special garments inside the parcel, sliding on the red delicate lingerie, and mesh tights. Wrapping yourself with a red ribbon, tying your hands together, tightening it with your teeth. Carefully getting into the medium-sized box, you were almost done until you heard footsteps through the hallways, and quickly put the box top on. Your heart rate increases, and you feel your palm getting sweaty...

Hearing Coriolanus's voices through the box, closing your mouth shut. You didn't want to spoil his precious gift, hoping he would at least be satisfied with the surprising gift, crossing your fingers in hope.

Coriolanus called out for you, realizing that you were beside him when he woke up. He knew you enjoy the holidays and this one in general, as he stepped out into the living, there was already a gift he planned to present to you, but looking at the strange box, it was red with a silver ribbon, and was slightly moving. He cocked his eyebrows at the scene, cautiously walking towards the present.

His hands reach for the box and open it, your frame being revealed to him, your eyes making contact with his. "So, this is where you were, my dove," He said, chuckling at your struggling form, "Merry Christmas, Corio" You gave him a shy smile, but you should have seen how you looked in Coriolanus' perspective, the red ribbon wrapping around your body, and near your chest area squeezing against your breast, awaiting to spill out of their confinements. Flickering your eyes away from him, feeling Coriolanus grabbing you out the box shocking you. The red ribbons still confine to your body, as he bridal carried you, "So, this why you were so distinct from me, trying to make this little gift" he smirked, your eyes hestitiately looking away from his bright blue eyes.

His footsteps carry you to your shared chambers, your heart beating in your chest. As he delicately put you on the edge of the bed, your body still confined with the ribbon, he took out some embroidery scissors, slowly cutting through the ribbon except the ones on your hand, as he placed it down on the delicate wooden desk.

His eyes wandered on your half-naked body. Your body looked smooth, doll-like. Your perky chest with hard peaks, his hands touching your confined ones, and he put them over your head. "You did so good for me, dove" he whispered, his fingers touching you, tracing the line of your stomach to your collarbone making you shiver. He outlined your stomach down to your pelvis, gradually dragging off the lacy red panties, making you anxious as your eyes followed his fingers dragging off the delicate panties. Extending your legs, looking at the panties fully being extracted, and throwing them to the other side of the bedroom. The cold air ghosted against your cunt, as your legs trembled.

"Corio.." You whined, you were embarrassed, the feeling of butterflies fluttering around your stomach, "I'm just enjoying my Christmas present, darling" He inched his face, whispering to your ear, as his fingers danced to your delicate petals inching to the bud. His fingers gradually inserted his digits into you, a strife of moans coming out of your lips, as you curved your back up in pleasure. His fingers pulling out of you unbearably slow and plunging back in making you tense up. The brutal pace made you break, your chest heaving as you tensed up at his fingers before his fingers picked up in pace, and it turned into a reckless frenzy. His fingers fucking you harshly, flickering your pearl.

A wanton of moans ripping out of your throat, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, his lips connecting to yours, his tongue exploring your cavern, leaning into the intense kiss. His fingers are still at work, fucking you harsily. You lifted your hips up for him to thrusting deeper into your pussy, withdrawing from the kiss, as you stared at Coriolanus with droopy eyes, your lips parting apart.

Turning your head away from him in embarrassment, "Don't look away from me, dove" He gently turns your head to him, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. Your body felt hot, sweat dripping off of your body. His fingers drove into your cunt, the sloshing sound of your slick, your body getting hotter. Feeling a hot wave of pleasure crashing onto you, curving your back up as your juices mixed with your slick, tensing up your hands against the sheets. Feeling his fingers leaving your cunt, covered in clear fluids. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment, "You made a mess" Coriolanus said, flickering your eyes at his frame, your hands taking his arm, surprising him. Placing his cum-coated fingers in your mouth, your tongue swirling against his fingertips, staring at him with doe eyes.

His eyes lit up with amusement, as you cleaned his fingers, pulling out his hands from your mouth, saliva coating his fingers. "Are you sure this is your first time, dove" He whispers with delight, you nod, "I want..to satisfy you, Corio" you mumble from your lips, "You are" he cups your cheek, "No..I want to pleasure you, please" your doe eyes looking at his cold eyes. His lips parted at your innocent appearance. Before you sat up, leading him down onto the large bed, your knee digging into the sheet as you pulled off his pants along with his boxers.

Feeling yourself swallowing at the size of his cock, as it strung up. The tip with an angry tip and is covered in colored veins.

Your hand slowly strokes it, your ears hearing groans slipping out of his mouth. Your fingers rub the tip. "Fuck, Y/N" he groans, "Is everything okay?" you questioned, feeling anxious that you're hurting him, "Yes, fuck" he muttered before you took his cock whole into your mouth, your tongue swirling the tip, hearing moans. Your head bobbing up and down his shaft, his moans getting louder, feeling his hands tangled in your hair, as you looked up at his trembling form.

His hand forced you down, making you gag. Tears pricking up on your waterline, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose. As he face fucked you, salvia drooling down your chin, moaning against his touch. Feeling yourself getting wetter, your doe eyes look up.

His hands never leaving your hair as he forced you down before he released his load down your throat, the bitter-salty taste hitting your tongue. Feeling his cock soften in your mouth, withdrawing from him. "Did I do good" you cocked your head to the side, as he examined at you, making note of your half-naked form. His hands making contact with your cheek, as he caressed gently.

He just nodded as you looked at his member harden, as you crawled on top of his body. His hand makes its way on the top of your lingerie, taking it off, and discarding it. Placing your hands on his shoulder, feel his hand on your waist, as you lowered yourself down on his cock. Feeling searing pain in your lower abdomen, stifling a groan from your lips. You felt his hands on your hips dragging you down, bottoming himself, "it's too big... corio" you quivered, "Your doing so well, dove" he gently lift your chin up slightly, as you stared at him.

His hips gently thrust up into your cunt, making you shiver in delight, biting your lip down. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder making him groan, resting your head on his shoulder, adjusting to the pain. "I'm going to move, okay... Dove" he whispered, you nodded your head at the statement, before feeling his hands on the plush of your bottom, the slow-motion as he gripped your hips feeling his cock leaving you and his then lowering your hips down.

Tears prick on your waterline, biting your lips at the discomfort, his hands rubbing your waist. His hands picking up speed, picking and dropping you down on his cock, the gradually simmering moment of pain, turning into pleasure in your core, moans coming from your lips, throwing your head back in thrill. "Corio" you whined, his pelvis thrusting up. His cock rubbing at your cervix. Your body riding him, feeling addicted to his touch. "Corio–corio" your mouth chanting his name like a prayer, "I'm close..please" You were breathless, his cock slipping out of you and in. Feeling a wave of satisfaction crashing down on you, moans ripping out of you. The lewd sounds of your body mixing with his, your high-pitched moans ripping out your throat.

Feeling his cock leaving you, making you whine, "Lay down" he whispered, pecking your lips as you obey, laying down as he line up with you, pushing his cock into you, thrusting in and out of you, your this bouncing on impact, his hands pressing your legs down on your chest. "Fuck" he groans, his hands pressing your legs closer to you, into a missionary position. Feeling him deep inside you, "Corio–I'm close" you cried out, adjusting your arms around his neck.

His mouth connects to your neck, sucking the vulnerable flesh, you whined out on impact. "I'm close too" he grunted, his pace getting faster, the melody of slapping skin echoing through the room. "Inside please" you whispered, pulling Coriolanus closer to you, feeling your orgasm crashing down on you, moaning out.

Feeling his hot load filling you, his mouth crashing into you, moaning against him. The sensation of his cock dragging out of you, makes you whine. Sweat covers your body, cringing at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you. Your eyes hesitantly looking down, staring at the mess between your legs, light pink liquid dripping out of you.

"Merry Christmas, Corio" you exclaimed, your tired form not letting you stand up, discomfort ringing through your body. Your eyes flicker at the colored stained window, snow falling decorating the scene. Feeling the bed bending at his weight and leaning onto you, leaving a kiss on your lips, "Merry Christmas, my love"

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus smut #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosas movie #tbosas x reader #tom blyth #coriolanus x y/n #president snow #coryo snow #coryo smut #snow x reader #snow lands on top #coryo x reader #president snow x reader #christmas #christmas special #christmas smut #breeding k1nk

[olenvasynyt]

Parallels between Gwyn and Az

People don’t often realize this, but Gwyn and Az have a lot of things in common.  And imo, it points to Gwynriel.  So let’s talk about it!

Dynamics with Nesta

They have similar dynamic with Nesta.  It’s not identical but neither of them shy away from her bluntness like others do.  They both seem to admire it and at some points, it gets Gwyn and Az to open up.

Page 251 of ACOSF: “Nesta watched the shadowsinger with a frankness that most people shied from. Azriel returned the look with the stillness that most people ran from.”

Page 114 of ACOSF: “ I don’t need to be coddled.  Only spoken to like a person.”  “I doubt you’ll enjoy the way I speak to most people.” Nesta said. “Gwyn snorted.  “Try me.”  Nesta looked at her from under lowered brows again.  “Get out of my sight.” Gwyn grinned, a broad, bright thing that showed up most of her teeth and made her eyes sparkle in a way Nesta knew her own never had. “Oh, you’re good.” Gwyn turned back to the stacks.  “Really good.”

Page 101 of ACOSF: “I hope you’re not giving my brother a hard time.”“Is that a threat, Shadowinger?” Azriel said coolly, “I don’t need to resort to threats.” Nesta gave him a smile, holding his stare.  “Neither do I.”

Page 348 of ACOSF: “Nesta scowled, and Az offered her a slight smile.  They could be allies, that smile seemed to say.  Against Cassian’s utter insanity.  She found herself answering Azriel with a slight smile of her own.”

Competitiveness

 They’re both competitive.  Cassian says that Az gets really competitive, and you can see the competitiveness in the bonus chapter where he has his plot to win the snowball fight.  

Page 254 of ACOSF: “Azriel had a vicious competitive streak.  Wasn’t boastful or arrogant… or possessive and terrifying…No, it was quiet and cruel and utterly lethal.”

Gwyn is super competitive with cutting the ribbon and when the Valkyries are doing the obstacle courses.  

Page 624 of ACOSF: “Roslin, Ananke, and Deirdre were close on their heels, propelling Gwyn to push her group harder.  She wanted to be the first.  Wanted Nesta and Emerie and her to be the ones who wiped the smirks from Azriel’s and Cassian’s faces.  Especially Azriel.”

Knowledge

They both get pretty fascinated by things, they both like to learn stuff. Cassian said that Az was really fascinated by the solar system and other-worldly stuff Rhys likes to research.  

Page 37 of ACOSF: “At the far end of the room, a little dias led into a broad raised alcove…and in its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it…Az, of course, had been fascinated.”

Trauma / light and darkness

Quote page 113 of ACOSF: “If marks of trauma lingered, any evidence was hidden by her robe.  But Nesta knew how invisible wounds could be how they could scars deeply and badly as any physical breaking.” 

This is a really big one: Gwyn’s healing seems like the kind of healing Az had.  Az was hidden in darkness and he was brought to the Illyrian camps which might have been the first time he saw true light in a while.  He found Cassian and Rhys who took him in and they trained together. And Gwyn hid herself in the library for years and saw true light for the first time in a while and trained with Nesta and Emerie and found true healing and confidence in herself.

This quote really got me:

Quote page 272 of ACOSF: “Gwyn’s hands were shaking as she took another step into the ring and peered into the open bowl of the sky.  The first time she’d been outside—truly outside—in years.  She met Nesta’s gaze and smiled.  "I forgot how it feels to have the full sun upon my head.  Forgive me if I spend some time gawking at the sky.”

I can just imagine Az having a similar reaction when he’s at the Illyrian camps for the first time.  A little 11 year old unsure of how to hold his wings up right just…looking up at the sky.  And he’s hiding his hands.

The main difference with this is Az was locked up in the darkness and Gwyn chose to be in the darkness, but I think the fact that light and darkness are key parts of their healing process is important to note.

Fear of making mistakes, and their loyalty to loved ones

Another super significant thing about them is their sense of loyalty to the people who took them in, and their fear of making mistakes and failing.

This quote from Gwyn really got me because it just screams Azriel to me.

Quote page 148 of ACOSF: “because I don’t like to fail I can’t…” Gwyn shook her head.  “I don’t want to make any more mistakes.” “These females took me in. Give me shelter and healing and family.” Again, her large eyes darkened.  “I cannot stand to fail them in anything.”

That just seems so much like Az.  Rhys and Cassian took him in, gave him shelter and healing and family, so he’s super loyal and he hates when he fails them.  Az seems to often feel guilty when one of the plans goes wrong; he thinks he didn’t do as much as he could have.

Page 346 of ACOWAR: ”Hybern had made its grand move at last.  And we had not anticipated it.  I knew Azriel would take the blame upon himself.  One look at the shadowsinger…told me he already did.”

Unworthiness 

Another thing is they feel unworthy.  You can see this with Gwyn and her invoking stone she says she doesn’t deserve to wear it, she is ashamed of her history and is afraid of people finding out things that she hates about herself.

Quote page 173 of ACOSF: “Why don’t you wear that stone on your head like the others?”  Gwyn pocketed the gem.  “Because I don’t deserve to.”

Page 521 of ACOSF: “I understand,” Gwyn repeated, “what it is to fail the people who mean the most.  To live in fear of people finding out.  I dread you and Emerie learning my history.  I know that once you do, you’ll never look at me the same again.”

Page 696 of ACOSF: “But even training these months hasn’t erased the fact that I let my sister die.  You asked me once why I don’t wear the hood of the Invoking Stone.  That stone is a sign of holiness.  How can someone like me wear it?”

That’s just so similar to Az I feel like, specifically this quote in the bonus chapter where he feels like his hands are tainted and that he’s unworthy of touching her.

ACOSF bonus chapter: “She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars.  Such terrible things that it was a sacrilege for his fingers to skin, tainting her with his presence. 

He also feels guilty for not doing enough, to fail the people around him.  You see this with Mor a lot.

Page 429 of ACOWAR:  ”As Azriel turned his face toward me—The frozen rage rooted me to the spot.  But beneath it, I could almost see the images that haunted him: the hand Mor had yanked away, her weeping, distraught face as she had screamed at Rhys.”

Now kind of diverting from the topic: I see people make debates about why Gwyn thinks she’s unworthy.  There are theories that she’s actually an inside spy for Koschei and maybe she feels guilty for that but there’s literally a quote that says she thinks she let her sister die and that she’s guilty that she lived and her sister didn’t.  I dislike the evil Gwyn theories, I think they’re gross.  I also kind of think her SA made her felt tainted, that’s a very common thing among SA survivors.  

Coping skills / being unbreakable 

And this is kind of a looser connection than the others I mentioned but we see moments from both where they tell themselves that they are unbreakable or hard to break.  When Gwyn cut the ribbon, she quoted the Valkyrie mindstilling technique:

Page 621 of ACOSF: “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.  Nothing can break me.”

"Nothing can break me" is something that Gwyn added, it was not part of the original Valkyrie passage.  And it reminded me of something that Az says to Feyre when they are doing their flying lessons in ACOWAR.  

Azriel tells Feyre Page 305 ACOWAR: “You’re immortal.  You’re very hard to break.  That’s what I told myself.”

The Blood Rite, friendships, and healing journey

And this similarty pertains to the Valkyries and the batboys in general, not solely Az and Gwyn, but the Valkyries during the blood rite is a reflection of the batboys during their blood rite.  It was the beginning of their journey when it came to healing and finding their strength and proving people wrong.  It was a pivotal point in their friendships, both groups fought like hell to reach each other.  

Page 693 of ACOSF: “I don’t want to take the safe road.  I want to take that road.  To prove to them, to everyone, that something new and different might triumph over their rules and regulations.”

And this is the start of Gwyn’s journey, this is the start of her friendship with Nesta and Emerie, who have become very important to her. She’s still struggling with her fears, she tells Nesta that she might come out of the library to go to her mating ceremony.  

And Az is kind of similar.  He has had centuries to heal and be with his brothers.  But he is absolutely still healing, he’s got tons of issues to sort out still.  You can say they’re aloof and they lock themselves up in a similar way: he doesn’t seem to want to go out to bars and parties unless his friends go.  

Page 377 of ACOMAF: “And when I pointed out that he did go to Rita’s with her whenever she asked, Mor simply informed me that it had taken her four centuries to get him to do that.”

He seems content to brood but he opens up because of his friends.

Differences

There are obviously tons of differences, I think the main ones being Gwyn is significantly more joyful than Az, she smiles and laughs a lot while it’s very rare to see Az smile or laugh.  He’s super broody and aloof.  Gwyn seems to open up a lot more easily.  She has a lot of hope.  She doesn’t seem to want to suppress herself.  Even though she struggles she is trying to break free.  

Page 524 of ACOSF: “ Nesta had never heard a voice like Gwyn’s—by turns trained and wild, as if there was so much sound fighting to break free of Gwyn, but she couldn’t quite contain it all. As if the sound needed to be loose in the world.”

And with Az: literally impossible to get him to confess anything.  There are a lot of things that Cassian doesn’t know about his brother.  He is content to brood.  He shuts his feelings down until they build up to a point where they almost explode sometimes.  There are some points where he suppresses his shadows on purpose, I feel like.  I don’t know how his shadows work but he can control them at some points.

I feel like whether or not you believe these parallels point to Gwynriel, you can’t deny that they are very similar and can be very good friends and heal together because of that. 

But also, Gwynriel is endgame 🤷‍♀️

#pro gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #professor layton and the azran legacy #acotar

[gunnerfc]

Rivals | Hayley Raso x Barça!Reader (18+)

(Reader plays for USWNT & Barça (former Arsenal player))

Summary: You seem to always be facing Hayley, whether it's with the national team or for club. Each time you two get a bit aggressive with each other before it finally leads to something steamier off the pitch after an El Clásico match.

Warnings: bottom!Hayley, top!reader, nipple sucking, oral (hayley receiving), coarse language, R calling Hayley “ribbons” sarcastically, hair pulling, fingering (R receiving)

WC: 4K - my longest fic so far omg 🥴

AN: yk this is fiction because Hayley is starting… (when I catch you alberto toril)

You woke up excited and filled with energy, ready to play in your first-ever El Clásico. This game has been all you could think about for the past week. When you first signed for Barcelona, you were immediately impressed with the culture and atmosphere the team had cultivated and that is only elevated when you get to play Real Madrid. 

Your overall excitement was cut back when you remembered who played for Real Madrid. It seems that no matter where you are playing, you will eventually have to play against Hayley Raso. You two always played aggressively against each other, for both club and country. Some of your best moments have been playing against the Australian, and the same could be said for her. It was like you both were always trying to one-up the other.

Throughout the day leading up to arriving at the stadium with the team, you’ve tried your best to shake any thoughts of the Aussie from your head but she just wouldn’t leave your mind. Something about this game felt different between the two of you and you couldn’t place your finger on why. All you could hope for was a Barça win and to walk away having played the best you could, anything else that happened would stay on the pitch. 

As you were changing into your warmup kits, Keira took it upon herself to joke about your complicated relationship with Hayley. “Excited to see your little friend, Y/n,” the midfielder laughed from her spot next to you in the locker room. You shook your head at her joke, trying to get into your game-ready mode. You slightly regret telling the Lioness about how you always play harder when it is against Hayley.

As you made your way to the pitch for warmups, you could see that the Real Madrid players were already on the pitch. You tried to not make it obvious you were looking for Hayley but as you looked around the other side of the pitch, you could hear Keria laughing from behind you. You turned to give her a pointed look before subtly looking at the opposing side once more. This time, you instantly spotted the white ribbon tied in the Aussie’s hair. Before you could look away, she turned and caught you staring. Neither of you smiled, instead the look you both had was one of competitiveness. 

You spent the rest of warmups solely focused on the tasks you were told to do, each time Hayley popped into your head, you got more aggressive in your play. Jona had a look of approval at your eagerness to do well and patted you on the back as you passed him on your way back to the locker room. 

After a quick speech from Alexia and Marta, the starting eleven were standing in the tunnel waiting to head onto the pitch. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Hayley standing to your left. You had to resist the urge to turn to her fully, instead, you shook your head going over everything you had done in preparation for this game. Walking out to the pitch and doing all the pre-game things, you were focused only on the next ninety minutes. 

When the ref blew her whistle and Salma kicked the ball back to start the game you were all in. You played on the same side as Hayley so you were instantly marked by her. You could tell that she was also determined to play one of the best games of her career. 

Each time you got the ball from one of your teammates, the Aussie was right there to take the ball from you. As much as you were annoyed at her actions, you repaid the favor each time she had the ball. Neither of you were going to let the other get past and potentially break the deadlock.

It was almost half time and the scoreline remained the same as it was when the game started. Both teams were on their A-game for different reasons. Real Madrid wanted to finally claim victory over Barcelona and Barcelona wanted to extend their winning streak over Madrid.

As you battled with Hayley for the ball near the sidelines after a perfect pass from Keira, the Australian had a tight grip on your jersey, pulling you off the ball. You ended up forcing the ball out for a Real Madrid throw and with a groan you moved away from the sidelines.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless that bad, Raso, all you had to do was ask,” you huffed in frustration. You turned your back to her to focus on who you were now marking. With your back to her, you missed the flash of arousal in the winger’s eyes as she thought about you without your shirt.

After a long forty-five minutes, the ref’s whistle blew for halftime, allowing you to catch your breath. The battle between you and the Australian winger had proven to be aggressive, taking a lot more effort than any other opponent you’ve faced this season. The talk the team received at halftime seemed to light a fire inside all of you as you took the field for the next forty-five. 

Just like the first half, each team was playing their best. No one could get a good pass to set up a chance on goal and possession was split fifty-fifty. You made an effort to cut out any pass that was sent Hayley’s way, not giving her a chance to touch the ball as much as she did in the first half.

In what seemed like a rare opportunity, a pass from Ona made its way to you with what seemed like a perfect run on goal. But as you turned to start dribbling with the ball, your feet were swept out from under you and you hit the ground hard. You groaned from the pain but it was quickly replaced with anger. You could hear your teammates trying to get a yellow card shown to the Australian. 

You ignored them as you focused your attention on Hayley who was trying to plead her case to the ref. You pulled her arm to force her to face, ignoring the ref’s warnings. “What the fuck was that, Raso,” you hissed, your anger evident in your tone.

“Please, we both know I got the ball first, you should watch your surroundings,” Hayley retaliated. While she was telling the truth, you were still pissed about the tackle. 

Looking down at her due to the slight height difference between you, your jaw was clenched. "Look up, would ya? It hurts my neck looking down on you," you huffed, moving your hand to her chin to lift her head up. Hayley's jaw clenched this time as she shoved your hand away, the ref's whistle blowing before she could rebuttal. 

With a warning for both of you, the ref allowed Barça to take a free kick where Hayley had fouled you. The free kick didn’t amount to anything as the ball was sent over the crossbar from a header from Lucy. You knew if you retaliated for the foul you would be the one with a yellow or worse, so you opted to get back at the Aussie by scoring.

Hayley had been on your heels the entire game and the second you got away from her, you scored off a perfect cross from Ona. You didn't have time to think about running towards the defender before you felt Patri jumping on your back. You quickly celebrated your goal with your teammates before jogging back to the middle of the pitch for the restart. As you passed Hayley, you sent her a smug look and a quick teasing wink which earned you an eye roll in response. If she could given you the middle finger with zero repercussions, she would've. 

The scoreline stayed at one to zero for the next ten minutes before a second for Barcelona came when Aitana shot from outside the box. You had assisted her goal and were the first person she ran to when the ball hit the back of the net. As you celebrated the goal, you could see Hayley’s pissed expression as she talked to two of her teammates. Seeing the look on her face made the smile on your face grow. 

With four minutes left to play, Hayley had gotten past you and was able to get a point back for Madrid. It was your turn to wear the pissed off expression as you watched the home side celebrate. For the remaining few minutes of the game, both teams failed to score again. While you were upset that Madrid had scored, you were thrilled that your first El Clásico was a success.

You took your time shaking hands with the Real Madrid players, not in a hurry to get rid of the feeling of winning an El Clásico match. After shaking hands with Olga, you turned to face the Australian you'd been neck and neck with all evening.

"Better luck next time, ribbons?” you quipped with a smirk as you stuck your hand out for the winger to shake.

"Fuck you, Y/l/n," the brunette growled but didn’t make an effort to remove her hand from yours.

Before you could process your thoughts, you were replying with something you wouldn't have thought. "Would that finally get rid of your fucking attitude?" you questioned, the grip you still had on Hayley's hand tightening. 

Neither of you spoke, but both of your breathing was heavy. Not because you had just played an aggressive ninety-plus minutes of football, but because you seemingly just crossed into new territory. 

You didn't get the chance to say anything else before Hayley's teammates pulled her away. Her hand left a burning sensation in your own as she pulled it away. You stood in the same spot for a moment before shaking your head to collect your thoughts.

You did your normal routine of greeting the fans and signing a few things before retreating to the locker room. Your teammates were loudly celebrating yet another win over Real Madrid. You tuned them out as you sat in your cubby, your thoughts racing of a certain Australian winger. 

You quickly gathered your things to take a shower, hoping none of your teammates would question your sudden mood change. As you stood under the flowing water with your eyes closed, different images of the Australian flashed in your mind. The simple thought of her head thrown back as she moaned your name, begging you to touch her had you breathing faster. Seemingly with a mind of its own, one of your hands traced down your body as a familiar feeling grew within you. You were pulled from your thoughts just as your hand reached between your legs as some of your teammates entered the shower area. You shook your head to refocus on showering, not wanting to be in there for too long. 

As you gathered your things and made your way out of the locker room, you opened the door to face the same person who had clouded your thoughts all day. Both of you froze as you stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say. 

The decision was made for you when you were forced to move out of the way when Patri and Pina tried to exit the locker room. Patri grabbed you by the shoulder, pulling you with her towards the bus while talking excitedly about the game. You tried your best to focus on what she was saying as you turned your head back to look at the Australian. 

When you arrived back at the hotel, you headed straight for your room. You were glad that Marta, your roommate, had told you she was going to spend time with Caro in her room. With the room to yourself, you allowed your thoughts to race for the first time today.

As you lay on the hotel bed in an intense staring contest with the ceiling, your phone buzzed on the nightstand next to you. You groaned as you rolled to your side to see what the notification was. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw a notification from Instagram. Your confusion turned to shock as you saw Hayley's name on your screen. 

hayleyraso: my place then?

yourinstagram: whats the address?

Sneaking out of the team hotel was not something you planned but as you walked to the elevator, you felt a different form of excitement fill your body. The Uber to the Australian's apartment was quiet but your mind was not. The images from the shower once again replay in your mind but now that they could possibly become reality, you didn't try to get rid of them.

You quickly thanked the Uber driver before exiting the car that stopped in front of an apartment building. You took a deep breath before heading inside and straight for the elevator. You felt your hands grow sweaty as you continued up floors. You took your time walking to her door, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen. 

You knocked softly on the door, not wanting to be disrespectful to her neighbors who were mostly likely asleep at this time. You waited for almost a minute and a half before you could hear the door in front of you unlock and be jerked open.

"Took you long enough," you huffed, your usual annoyance with the brunette making its return the moment you were in her presence again.

"Do you ever stop running your mouth," Hayley snapped, sharing your annoyance. 

"Only when it's preoccupied with other things," you smirked at the winger, confidence taking over. Hayley rolled her eyes at your words but you didn't miss the light blush that coated her face. 

Hayley's hand wrapped around the hem of your shirt, pulling through the threshold of her Madrid apartment. When you were through the door, it was closed loudly and your back was flushed against it. You bent your neck slightly as Hayley tilted her head up and your lips met for the first time. 

You fought each other for dominance, moaning in between kisses. Each kiss was heavy and deeper than the last. You lightly nipped at her bottom lip in between kisses which resulted in Hayley moaning louder. 

You pushed off the door to head towards her bedroom for a more comfortable experience. Your hands rested on her waist as hers wrapped around your neck. You pulled away slightly to whisper "jump" against her lips, signaling her to wrap her legs around your waist.  Hayley for once listened without some snarky remark and her legs were around your waist as soon as the words left your mouth. you moved your hands from her waist to hold her thighs as you navigated her apartment. It was a one bedroom apartment in the Spanish capital so you had no problem finding it despite being preoccupied. 

You found the bed almost immediately after entering Hayley's bedroom, laying the winger down as her legs remained around your waist. You propped your hands on either side of her head, Hayley held your face close in a deep kiss. Your body was almost flush with hers, but it was too little contact for the Aussie.

Your lips moved against each other in a battle, both trying to dominate the other. From under you, Hayley's hips moved against yours in an attempt to get some form of release. You smirked into the kiss, finding her desperation amusing but hot. 

"Desperate much, ribbons," you mumbled against her lips, pulling back with a small nip to her bottom lip.

Hayley rolled her eyes at your words but the fact that her hips had yet to stop their light grinding proved she wasn't annoyed. Instead of responding, the winger opted to move her hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swoop. You moved one of your hands to lift her shirt off her body, the Aussie’s back arching to help the shirt come off easier.

With her shirt thrown to the floor with yours, your lips were back on her body, but this time on her neck. You left heated kisses and bites along her neck and collarbone, dark marks starting to form on her skin. One of Hayley’s hands came to rest on the back of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair as a way to keep your lips on her.

You switched to the other side of her neck to give it the same attention while one of your hands slid to the aussie’s back to unhook her bra. You pulled the material from her body, tossing it aimlessly to the floor. With the item out of your way, to moved your lips down her body with light kisses and nips as you went. When you reached the center of her chest, you moved your head slightly to take one of her nipples into your mouth. 

A loud moan fell from the Australian's mouth, her hand that was in your hair pushed you closer to her body, keeping you as close as possible. You took your time sucking the hardened bud in your mouth before you pulled away with a small “pop.” You placed a quick kiss in between her breasts before giving the other hardened nipple the same attention. 

The rocking of Hayley’s hips had sped up because of your actions, loud moans continually fell from her mouth as she tried to gain some traction where she needed you most. The hand in your hair pulled slighting, pulling you away from her chest into a burning kiss. In between kisses, one of your hands pulled at the drawstrings of the sweatpants the winger was wearing before you started pushing them down her legs. Hayley unwrapped her legs from your body so you could push the sweatpants to her ankles, she kicked them off without a care as to where they landed. 

You pulled away from her mouth to quickly rid yourself of your own pants and you noticed she opted to wear nothing under the sweatpants. You tried to hold back a teasing comment but you loved seeing Hayley react to the things you said. 

“Didn’t wanna waste any time, huh ribbons,” you taunted the Aussie, your annoyingly attractive smirk making its reappearance.

“Shut up,” Hayley groaned, though her groan turned into a moan when you leaned your head down to give one of her breasts a quick nip. 

“Still have that attitude I see,” you said in a sarcastic tone but started moving your body down, trailing kisses down her body as you did so.

“Because you won’t shut up and fuck me,” Hayley’s words stunned you for a moment before you lightly scoffed at her words, You refocused your attention on where she desperately needed you most, your smugness returning when you saw just how wet she was already.

One of Hayley’s hands remained tangled in your hair while the other held her sheets tightly. You left light kisses on the inside of both her thighs as you moved her legs to rest over your shoulders. Hayley’s breathing had picked up in anticipation, waiting for you to finally give her some form of pleasure. 

Your tongue licked up her dripping core, moaning as you tasted her for the first time. The vibrations of you moaning against her had her back arching and her hand pushing you closer. You didn’t hold back as you dove back in, your tongue working quickly and harshly. The grip on your hair tightened as Hayley's moans grew louder. You were thankful for how late it was, hoping that her neighbors were in a deep sleep and wouldn’t be able to hear her.

You moved your mouth up slightly to suck on her clit as your hands wrapped around her thighs. You sucked harshly on the hooded bud, pulling away with loud noises following. Hayley’s hips were once again rocking up for more pleasure, this grinding against your face looking for her release. You didn’t let up as you alternated between sucking on her clit and thrusting your tongue inside her.

Hayley’s legs squeezed around your shoulders as she felt a familiar feeling in her stomach. Between her legs, you could hear her broken moans and pleas of “faster,” “don’t stop,��� and “more.” You sped up your movements, desperately wanting to bring her over the edge for the first time that night. The Aussie was moaning your name in what could almost be described as a chant and it drove you crazy that the thoughts you had earlier did become reality.

Hayley’s back arched off the bed and with her eyes tightly closed, she came hard against your mouth. You didn’t slow down, wanting to help her ride out her high but also because you couldn’t get enough of her. 

How you two haven't got this far before, you weren't sure. But now that you’ve been with her and tasted her, you’d be damned if you two didn’t do this more often. Especially since it wasn’t a long journey between your two cities.

With her hand in your hair, Hayley pulled your hair to pull you away from her, too sensitive for you to continue your movements at the moment. She unwrapped her shaking legs from around your shoulders, allowing you to move up her body.

Your lips met hers in a deep kiss, both of you moaning at the taste of her on your lips. Before you could realize what was happening, Hayley had you lying on your back as she straddled your waist. Your head was thrown back as she left her own marks along your neck, not caring that you would have to hide them before returning to the hotel.

Hayley busied herself with stripping you of your underwear before repaying the favor. The winger’s skilled fingers not needing any prep before sliding into your soaked core. Your head was bent back against her pillows as she skillfully moved her fingers in and out of you. Hayley left even more marks on your hips and thighs while thrusting her fingers inside you.

“Hayley, please,” you croaked out, moans filling the rooms once more. Hayley nipped at your skin at your words as her fingers sped up, working on quickly bringing you over the edge.

Having been close just from pleasuring her, it didn’t take long for you to reach your first orgasm. You came around her fingers while she continued her thrusts. Hayley eventually slowed her fingers before pulling them out of you as you whined from the loss of contact. 

You opened your eyes to meet hers just as she lifted her two fingers to her mouth to clean them. Hayley moaned at the taste and you moaned at the sight of her sucking your cum off her fingers. You sat up so you were level with the winger and pulled her into a kiss, though this one was more loving than any other kiss you had shared before.

You two spent the rest of the night pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other. The annoyance you held for each other disappeared with each one and it turned into something different and you were sure the two of you would continue to test this new boundary with each other. You weren’t sure if it would turn into anything romantic or simply stay at having sex but you weren’t complaining. 

You were grateful the team opted to have a rest day in Madrid instead of traveling back to Barcelona the next morning. Otherwise, you would have had to explain why you weren't in the hotel which would have resulted in some form of punishment from the coaching staff and insufferable amounts of teasing from your teammates. You had woken up before Hayley and quickly rushed to get dressed. You left the apartment quickly while trying to order an Uber back to the hotel. When you were situated in the car, you opened Instagram to send the Australian a direct message:

yourinstagram: sorry I had to leave so quickly, had to get back to the hotel before anyone noticed. We should do this again sometime, I don’t think I got rid of your little attitude, ribbons.

#woso x reader #real madrid women x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #hayley raso x reader #hayley raso #woso smut

[afro-hispwriter]

Letters(Aemond Targaryen)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary- Aemond and daemons daughter have been secretly seeing each other and sending letters and at the dinner aemond asks for her hand shocking everyone and making daemon furious.

Warnings- angst, daemon just trying to be a good dad;(

Request by anonymous 

wc- 1.6k

-

When a crow landed on the stone of your window you jumped out of your bed. You took the wrapped letter off its claw and it flew off. You tore the ribbon off of it and opened the little paper.

My love,

I've received news that you will be coming to Kings Landing to sort out the issue with Driftmark. Words cannot begin to describe how excited i am to see you again.

From your lover,

AT 

You practically jumped up and squealed. It had been so long since you've seen any of your family that resided in Kings Landing. But of course you were more excited to see Aemond.

The carriage ride into Kingslanding was uneventful. There weren't people on the sidelines cheering for the arrival of the Blacks. They announced your arrivals, you didn't see Aemond anywhere. He said a long time ago in a letter saying he now wore an eyepatch. But you haven't caught sight of your eye patched cousin. 

-

They advised you and your siblings to see ser Criston who was currently training on of the princes. You walked quickly to the yard.

"Slow down sister, no need to rush." Jace said with a sly smile. He was the only one who knew about Aemond. You scoffed at him but slowed down. You saw a crowd and heard swords clashing. As you got closer you day the wiping of white hair flying around. You pushed through people and some glared until they noticed your white hair and averted their eyes. The person fighting Ser Criston was tall, and moved swiftly. He blocked Cristons weapon and moved around to a crouch letting you take notice who it was.

Eye Patch. Aemond.

He looked over the crowd until his eyes fell upon you. But he turned his attention back to Cristion and decided it was time to stop playing around. It quick ease Aemond disarmed Criston, still holding his 

"Well done Aemond, you'll be winning Tournaments in no time." Said Criston and Aemond scoffs.

"I dont give a shit about tourneys. Nephews. Cousin. Have you come to train?" He asks and sets down his sword. He turns to you and your stepbrothers but his eyes stayed on you. Jace looked shocked and immediately shook his head.

"Only if you will be the one doing the training." You say and raise an eyebrow at him and he smirked. 

"It depends." He said and sheathes his sword and starts stepping towards you. "Are you up for the hard work?" He stopped in front of you and leaned down so your faces were close together. "Because I guarantee you, you will be hot and sweaty in the end along with pain... in so many parts of your body." He whispered the last part in your ear and you shuddered. "I missed you."

He didn't let you respond before he left you there, flustered and wanting. Jace and Luke looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Im not sure Daemon would like what we just saw." Said Luke and you roll your eyes and shove him playfully. 

-

Viserys requested the family have dinner together and you didn't know if you were dreading it or looking for to it. The Greens were already at the table waiting foe the Blacks. You sat on the end of the table next to your father with Baela and at the other end sat Aemond. A maid came and filled your cup with wine and you picked it up and looked at Aemond. He raised his towards you and brought the cup up to his lips. You did the same but smiled behind your cup. 

This action didn’t go unnoticed by Rhaenerya, she smiled slightly at seeing her stepdaughter and half-brother interact. 

Dinner was served, Alicent gave a prayer and after that. Everything went well. Everyone talked like nothing ever happened, they laughed with each other. Alicent and Rhaenerya actually struck up a conversation. Aemond wasn’t saying anything just continued eating and drinking, but he kept glancing at you at any given chance. Eventually he stopped eating and just stared at you. You felt his stare and looked up to him. He cocked his head to the side with a sly smile, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but there was amusement placed on your face.

“What?” You mouthed but he didn’t do anything. Your father noticed who you were talking to and took notice to your face, he nudged your foot with his, bringing your attention back. Aemond drowned the rest if his wine and suddenly stood up, making all conversations stop and look up at him. 

“I have something to say, well more ask my dear Uncle.” He says and Daemon leans back in his chair and squints his eyes. You look at Aemond in confusion, not knowing what he needed to ask your father. “For the last few months I’ve been sending letters to your oldest daughter, your beautiful Y/n.” Your eyes widened.

“Aemond.” You say and Daemon looks at you with now wide eyes. 

“I’ve developed a love for her.” Aemond stopped right behind Daemon and Daemon couldn’t look at him just tightening his jaw. “So I want to ask for her hand in marriage.” Everyone stayed quiet and waited for Daemon to react but Viserys answered first.

“I think thats a mighty fine idea.” He said and coughed. “It would surely help secure our bloodline more, and as well help end this feud before it grows into something bigger.” Still nobody said anything but you watched Daemon grip his knife.

“Father-.” But you were to late to stop him. He had Aemond on the ground with a knife to his neck. 

“How dare you ask for my daughter’s hand? Do you think I haven’t heard the rumors? Why would I put my daughter in danger?” Aemond gulped and licked his lips.

“I would never hurt your daughter, I wouldn’t dream it.” 

“Daemon.” He heard Rhaenerya’s soft voice behind him and a hand on his shoulder. He slowly pulled back and stood up, you ran to Aemond side and bent down next to him, Alicent appearing as well.

“Are you ok?” You ask him and inspect his neck. He nods and waves you off. You then look up at your father to see Rhaenerya calming him down. You stood up and angrily walked to him. “Why does everything have to be violence with you? Why cant you just talk like a normal human being!? Why cant you be happy that I found someone I love?” You sped off after that leaving everyone in shock. 

Aemond stood up and tried to follow you but Daemon stopped him.

“No. I’ll talk to her.” He said and nodded to Rhaenerya who nodded back and gave him a smile. He went of to go find and comfort his child. 

-

He knew exactly where you were. When you lived in Kings Landing you always spent your free time in the gardens. He heard sniffles coming from the direction  of the fountain. 

He saw his daughter hunched over with a flower in her hands. 

“Y/n.” He says and you whipped your head around to your father. 

“Why are you here?” You ask and wipe you eye. Daemon sits down next to you.

“Im sorry, for what I did.” He says and you look at him in shock. “Sorry for how I reacted, you’re right i shouldn’t have handled it that way.”  He placed an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. “I will give my nephew my blessing to marry you.” You raised your head to him with an open mouth. 

“You’re serious?” You ask and he nods. You stand up and smile brightly down at him. “Thank you.” You bent down and kissed his cheek before running off but before you could get far his fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back.

“Just know, if he hurts you, trust that no one will be able save him.” He says and his face goes back to seriousness. 

“You wont regret it father.” You ran inside the castle, running through the halls. You saw Alicent walking quickly down the hall. “Queen Alicent!” They turned around and immediate concern flashed on their faces.

“Child whats wrong?” Asks Alicnet and places her hands on your shoulders. 

“Wheres Aemond?” You say out of breath and she cocked her head to the side.

“Training outside.” 

“Thank you.” You say and run outside to the training area. You heard grunting and loud sounds of wood getting hit. You saw Aemond whipping around flawlessly. “AEMOND!” He turned around at the scream of his name.

“Y/n?” You jumped into him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“He said yes, he’s going to give you his blessing to marry me.” You say and and pull back. And for the first time in a long time Aemond smiled, this time with love. He dropped his sword and grabbed your face and slammed his lips down on yours. You both closed your eyes, melting into the kiss. He opened his eyes for a split second to check his surroundings and saw Daemon, standing by the entrance with his hands in front of him, smiling that his daughter found love.

-

The following week you were marrying Aemond in the traditional Old Velaryon way. Cutting your lips with dragon glass, followed by your hands and held them together, then wiping a stray of blood on each others foreheads. A kiss was shared, your bloods mixing in your mouths, signifying the security of another bloodline and also one of the few marriages done for love.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

[milaisreading]

where's the pt 3 of toddler manager? 👁️👄👁️

Author: 😭😭😭 here u go! Thanks for the request and I hope u like it🩷

Warnings ⚠️: None really. Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Pt 1 pt2 Pt4

Chris was a crying mess. If someone saw him on the street, they'd think he had gone insane, but as for the coaches at Blue Lock, they couldn't help but roll their eyes at his rediculous behavior.

"Chris... will you please let (Y/n) eat in peace?" Snuffy grumbled as he held the toddler while Noa fed her the food Anri had prepared. Lavinho was taking a picture here and there, but wasn't too much of a drama queen like the blonde coach.

"I am not doing anything!"

"You are literally sobbing and taking a video of her eating. I am struggling to feed her as she keeps on giggling at your rediculous facial expressions." Noa sent the Welsh man a side glare as he wiped the extra food off of (Y/n)'s face.

"It's not my fault she is so adorable! Right, (Y/n)?"

"Dada..." The girl answered simply.

"Cute!" Chris exclaimed, pulling the girl out of Snuffy's hold and hugged her.

"Awww! You are so adorable!"

"Chris, she didn't eat yet!" Lavinho yelled as Noa and Snuffy glared at the blonde.

"She might starve! Give her back!" Snuffy told him, but everything fell on deaf ears.

"How about I take you back to Manshine instead? Ohh! Just imagine all the pictures we can take of you in a uniform of ours!" Now this caught Noa's attention as he got up and walked towards Chris.

"(Y/n) is still Bastard München manager, toddler or not. Besides, I already prepared a uniform for her to wear." Noa admitted, trying to take the girl from Chris, but the man pulled her back as he glared at the French man.

"You take those barbarian hands away from her. And what do you mean you have it prepared? Those ugly colors don't suit a child. The blue ones of my team tho..." Chris smirked at the French. Noa bit back a few curse words, as (Y/n) was staring at them intensely.

"Ah! While we are at it, my Barcha uniform would look better on her." Lavinho said as he got up along with Snuffy.

"Well, considering we all had similar ideas. How about we dress her up in the uniforms and see which one looks better on her. Ubers will win here anyways." The Italian coach said as all 4 glared at each other, meanwhile (Y/n) was giggling and clapping her hands.

"Gentlemen and... gentlemen, may I avert your eyes to the best uniform (Y/n) will ever wear! Look, I even got her a cute ribbon!" Chris exclaimed, holding the girl up as she now wore the light blue Manshine uniform. Snuffy and Noa clapped their hands slowly, staring at the girl in fake boredom.

'Adorable! She will look even cuter in my Ubers uniform!' Snuffy thought.

'Cute!' Noa surpassed a blush as Lavinho took a few pictures of the girl when Chris had put her down.

"And? Isn't she the cutest?! Please let her join Manshine!" Chris urged Noa, who sighed and shook his head.

"Hmm..." (Y/n) let out a few sounds as she started playing with the ribbon Chris had put on her head.

"It seems like she isn't too fond of the ribbon. Alright! Let me show off my uniform next!" Lavinho got up from his spot and picked (Y/n) up, excited to show his off.

"Alright! She is ready for her first match! I found a plushie football with my team's colors!" Lavinho boasted as he put (Y/n) on his shoulders, causing Chris to yell at him.

"Are you out of your mind?! What if she falls down?!" The blonde yelled at the Spaniard, who shook his concerns off.

"Calm down, I am holding her. Snuffy, take a picture!" Lavinho said as the Italian took his phone out, looking cautiously at the girl.

"Yeah I will, then you put (Y/n) down."

"Do you trust me so little?" Lavinho pouted as he put the girl down.

"I don't trust you at all." Snuffy said as he went up to the two.

"The colors don't suit my child at all! The baby blue was better, right (Y/n)?" Chris said, looking at the girl.

"Ha?" She looked up while patting the soft material of the football.

"You ate just jealous because she will pick mine, aka that I am her favorite!"

"Where did that come from?!" Snuffy yelled into the Spaniard's face as Chris joined in, protesting the idea. Noa used this opportunity and picked (Y/n) up from the ground, and both watched the trio argue.

"Can you all not yell in front of (Y/n)?"

Snuffy turned to them, looking offended and went to take the girl from him.

"Anyways! Time for the best uniform around!" The Italian announced.

"Look how cute and bella (Y/n) is in my uniform! She even likes the little plushie I got her!" Snuffy grinned as (Y/n) hugged the little zebra plushie,dressed in the Ubers' uniform. Lavinho let out a small 'boo' as he took a picture of the girl as Snuffy helped her stand properly.

"She looks like a prisoner! The colors don't suit her at all." Chris shuddered as he went over to inspect the uniform more.

'This is a disaster. She looks so cute, even in this one!' The Welsh man thought as he got a hit on the head from Snuffy.

"I am just being honest! Right (Y/n), it's ugly?"

"Dada..." The girl answered looking up at him in confusion.

"Don't listen to a British man when it comes to taste (Y/n), did you ever taste their food?"

"Welsh man! And we are going that route now?" The blonde yelled in anger as Lavinho and Noa quickly interjected.

"Now it's Noa's turn!"

"Yeah, yeah. Do your best, man." Snuffy told the white-haired coach.

'Hmmm... what can I give her that I know she will like?' Noa raised an eyebrow as he carried (Y/n) out of the room. Then an idea hit him, knowing exactly what will make her pick Bastard München's uniform.

"So? Where is she?" Snuffy raised an eyebrow as Noa returned with no (Y/n).

"Did you lose her or something?" Lavinho was the next one to ask.

"Maybe she ran off after she saw the uniform." Chris chuckled, earning a laugh from the other two. Noa rolled his eyes and pointed behind him.

"No, she seems quite content wearing my team's uniform, right?" Noa smirked as the other three looked behind him.

"Ness!" (Y/n) exclaimed as she hugged the said boy, who was carrying her.

"That's cheating, Noa!" Lavinho yelled at his friend.

"Yeah, and why aren't you training?" Chris asked Ness while (Y/n) was playing with his hair.

"Noa told me it was fine and said I could play with (Y/n) for the rest of the day." The magenta-eyed boy shrugged his shoulders.

"This isn't fair, you know Ness is her favorite." Snuffy glared at Noa.

"So? You guys never set up any rules."

As the 4 adults argued, Ness walked off somewhere quieter and sat down.

"Ness..." The girl kept on repeating as she played with his hair..

"Ah... I can't wait till you are back in your old size, although you are cute like this too."

#blue lock anime #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock manga #blue lock requests #noel noa #platonic blue lock #blue lock snuffy #chris prince #lavinho #alexis ness #alexis ness x reader #manager reader

[belphies-cowgirl]

obey me headcanons pt. 2

word count: 900+

Lucifer tries to pick you a single red rose from the garden at the demon lord's castle each time he visits (sometimes Barbatos catches him, and Lucifer plays it off as him just leaning down to tie his shoes) the roses are hung along the ceiling trims in your room, adorned with a white ribbon to hold the stems together.

"here MC, let me help you hang those up, I told you to stop standing on chairs like that, what if you fall?"

"Luci, don't you know that red roses symbolize love and admiration?"

Mammon will NEVER admit this to ANYONE, but he has a secret savings account solely for buying you gifts. he claims he had the money to buy you something from the extra shifts he worked.

"Mams what's this? it's so lovely!"

"gah! here t-take it, it's for you, and don't go blabbing off to my brothers about this!"

Levi will purposely lose at games sometimes just so he can see the way your face lights up in excitement when you win. he absolutely adores the little lines on your face when you smile and the way you grab onto him in excitement.

"oh my gosh, Levi look I did it! aren't you proud of me?"

"y-yeah MC, good job, but let me s-show you some tricks on how to beat your previous score. t-that is if you can b-beat me again next round!"

Satan once asked Solomon to help him visit the human world so he could look for books that you loved before you came down to the Devildom. shortly after his return, he summoned you to his room and pushed the stack of books into your arms with rosy cheeks.

"here you might like these, I found them lying around while I was organizing my books."

"woah, I used to read these books all the time back in the human world. I didn't think I'd be able to read them again, thank you so much Satan!"

Asmo handmade you and him matching rose gold and silky-textured pj sets, and he expects you to wear it when you and him have sleepovers. he can't help but run his hands all over the soft fabric, his fingers leaving trail marks in the velvet as he runs them along your curves.

"oh MC! you're so cute!! I could just cuddle you to death~"

"Asmo please you're gonna squish me!"

Beel likes to make late-night snacks in the shape of little stars, as well as suns and moons (if he can manage not to eat them all before bringing them to your room to share with you)

"awh, Beel these are so cute! I guess I'm the stars, you're the suns, and Belphie is the moons!"

*munch* "yeah MC, that's right, i'm glad you like them. whenever Belphie and I look at the stars together, we always think about you." *munch*

Belphie will without a doubt take a nap on your lap or your shoulder, no matter the place. if you're lounging in the common room with his brothers, he will curl up in your lap and wrap his tail around your leg and link one of his fingers with yours.

*yawn* "MC, uncross your legs please, I'm so sleepy."

"okay, but don't drool on me this time."

Diavolo likes when you organize his stationery. he likes that you make sure everything is in its place, so when he's so immersed in paperwork he doesn't have to stop to search for what he needs (you once gave him a sticky note that says "I'm proud of you for working so hard <3" and he has it taped on his desk)

"MC, i've finished my paperwork, so how about we go out for dinner? I haven't seen you all week, and i've missed you."

"we see each other every morning, silly, but yes I would love to have dinner with you."

Barbatos once got so worried that you wouldn't want to be with him anymore due to him being so busy, that it started to distract him from his daily tasks. so he asked Diavolo if once a week he could have a longer break than usual so that he could spend time with you and remind you how much he loves and cherishes you.

"MC, I think about you all the time. when I am not busy, I would like to spend and cherish every minute with you."

"oh Barb, i'm so happy you feel that way! I was so worried that you didn't want to be with me anymore."

Simeon keeps a private journal so that he can spill his heart out for you onto the pages. he gifts it to you once every page is inked with words of his eternal love for you.

"MC, I hope you will love this as much as I love you."

"Simeon, this is beautiful, I didn't know you felt this way about me, I love you so much!"

Solomon gifted you a charmed locket that allowed you to feel his heartbeat, he wants you to know that his heart will never stop beating for you whether the two of you are together or apart.

"nice try MC, but you won't be able to fluster me that easily."

"if that's the case, then why is your heart beating so fast?"

Luke will run to you and hug you whenever he's being teased, he'll turn his head to the side and stick his tongue out at Lucifer and his brothers.

*sob* "MC, they won't stop teasing me!"

"guys stop being so mean to my sweet little angel!"

✄ ——————————————————————

feel free to comment, reblog, shoot me a message, or an ask <3

please do not use my work as your own!

m.list

#obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmo x reader #beel x reader #belphie x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me beelzebub #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #simeon x reader #solomon x reader #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #obey me x mc #obey me satan #obey me

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge— Chapter 10

When you were younger, your mom would tell you how special you were. 

She would go on and on about how perfect you were, how wonderful you would grow up to be, just how smart, how you outshined the class, how you outshined everyone in everything that you did.

When you got older, you noticed that only happened when you followed her rules.

You were so humble when you ate exactly half of everything on your plate, smart only when you got above a 95% on your assignments. You were athletic when you won games, a little Einstein when you got blue ribbon in tournaments. You were only good to her when you could be the best. 

Your sister took an exact opposite route, choosing to do whatever she wanted. “Why live up to her bull shit expectations when i’m having so much fun?” 

That was what made you two so different. You scrapped for your mother’s attention, and she just… didn’t care for it. At all. It always served to confuse you, did nothing but spin your head in circles like some paradox you could never solve. Why not be the best? It’s done nothing but good for me. 

Until you were forced to fake your death. 

That wasn’t really great. 

Your mom had made it sound so convincing, like it was such a good idea. You remember her sitting down in your room, telling you all about the plan and how you would “come back” as a child they adopted to fill the loss. The same name as your sister and everything, all of it would be a fresh start. You get to redo all those wins, all those successes with her now!

And you had agreed. You played the role, hiding in a box while the shooter your mom hired killed a girl who looked exactly like you. You went into hiding while everything got settled out, came back with a new face and a new name, re-joined your “new” family with pride. 

And you kept your mom’s dirty little secret. You swore no one would know, that they would never find out you were a fraud. 

Till you enlisted, that is. 

Nobody ever expects to find lifelong partners in one of the most gruesome jobs known to man, but that’s exactly what happened. You climbed through the ranks so quickly everyone else swore on their lives you were a spy, and joined the task force with the sole mission of getting that name off of your back. Instead, you were introduced to a whole different view of life. 

The way the boys worked with each other never failed to surprise you. Often times, they didn’t even have to speak to make a request before it was being fulfilled, whether on the field or in the barracks. The only thing that kept you notified of these “ghost tasks” was when one of the boys would say “thanks mate” and you’d hear a body fall. 

Over time, they included you in these tasks. How it happened, you never knew, but you had the distinct feeling you needed to shoot that guy just there on the left, and when it happened Price would smile at you, and offer up a quick “Thanks, doll.”

Made you weak in the knees, but nobody needed to know that. 

The men on the task force showed you what true love was. They were there for you when some of your closest friends died on a mission, they saved your sorry ass from death so many times you were sure they were edging the grimm reaper. And they made you laugh harder than you had laughed in years— a full, real laugh, not the small giggle your mom made you do. 

Now you understood why your sister never followed those rules. Why she was so instant on rebelling, why she always looked happier.

And you fucked it up. You fucked all of it up. 

It just took you your whole life to realize it. 

Stupidly enough, your only concern was your sister. 

Being called to your captain’s office was nothing odd, but being summoned by the Lieutenant and both Sargents was… near unheard of. But you knew the instant you saw the looks on their faces that you weren’t sneaky enough. They had found you— the real you. 

You never understood what people meant when they said hearts sank, but in that moment yours just stopped beating completely. The walk to the office was completely silent, and you noticed the boys glancing at you and each other, but you never looked back. A million excuses whirled through your head, how you were tricked, lied too, how your mother was a psycho. None of them would fly in a court room. 

You just had to accept defeat. This was it, the end of your career. Fraud on this level could be punished by death, you were pretty sure. Maybe not in a court, but this was the military, and you were being sentenced by John Price. 

He wasn’t known to show mercy. 

“You know why you’re here, then.”

You just nodded. A tense silence hung about the room, and you saw Johnny shuffle nervously in the corner. 

“Lass— why would you… I canne understand it.” He said, trying desperately to catch your gaze. You kept your eyes pointedly trained on your shoes, never once looking up. 

“Can’t wrap my head ‘round it either. From the looks of it ‘ere, you had it all. Model student you were. What was the point? Got a kick out of it, hm?” Price gestured to the spray of photos, articles and videos, all proving his point. You just gave him a lame shrug. 

“Workin’ with me for so long must have taught you somethin. Better to stay quiet, eh? Think that’s gonna help?” Price snapped his fingers, and heavy footfalls sounded behind you. Ghost’s thick black hand snaked around your neck, forcing your chin up to look at Price. “Hate doin’ this to a team mate, but I got no choice now.” His accent was thick, and in any other circumstances you would have found it incredibly attractive. Now, though, it only served to support the feeling of dread sitting in your stomach. Distantly, you had the small thought that you were going to be sick. 

You tried opening your mouth to say something, although what you were going to say was completely lost on you. It was almost like you were locked in place, forever paused with that stupid look of fear on your face. Now you got why being interrogated by these men was so scary, something most people didn’t survive. You wanted to speak, just as well as you understood that— deep down— the boys were all hoping there was a good reason behind why this happened. But you just physically couldn’t.

“Olright, leme ask you this.” This time it was Ghost, and his hand jerked your chin up to look at him. “You enjoy it? Gettin’ your little ‘do over,’ doin everything right? It made you happy?” 

“At first.” This time you were able to speak, because the answer was so simple. “But not anymore. Never, anymore.” Ghost’s eyes flicked up to his captain, and suddenly he was letting your face go and stepping away. You turned to Price to see how he was leaning over the table, palms clasped into a fist under his chin. 

“I’m gonna give you one chance to explain.” He says. 

So you do. 

You tell them all the things your mom said about you, everything she abused about your sister, how she just didn’t care and kept being herself the whole time. You told them how she came up with the plan, how it was executed, what you did after, how you two didn’t get caught. 

And after, they all just stared in shock. 

“I don’t— I regret it. If that’s what you all are wondering. Doing that to her… She was forced into a life even I hated living. I know what she— why she did the things she did. Being this happy…” You were crying, trying to speak through the huge choking sobs that threatened to escape. “That doesn’t make anything better, I guess. Just don’t hurt her. She had a good life, and she can still live one— I just—“ You hiccuped, scrubbing at your eyes frantically. The sound of the chair scraping against the tile floor didn’t register, but huge arms around your body did. 

“ ‘S alright darling. Gonna be okay, I gotcha.”

And for the first time in your life, you cry in John Price’s arms

AN: Time to disappear for another week😈😈 until next time, my lovelies!!

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost x reader #this series is almost over guys☹️☹️