#darlings: crack-squirrels | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dross-the-fish · 5 months

Text

Victor and Adam Creating the Bride: part 2

Written from Adam's POV: Warning, some gore. Gets dark towards the end and I incorporated dialogue from the book itself.

....

I watched her taking shape on the table, forming from loose bone and flesh into a woman under my hands. I had asked Victor to make her hideous as myself but as I carefully worked the needle through her skin, tenderly tightening the seam that extended her mouth I couldn’t help but feel that there was beauty in her features. It did not escape me that my stitches were neater than Victor’s, perhaps because I was unhurried. In the labors of my handiwork, I had newly discovered in myself the virtue of patience and it served me well. I considered that the presence of patience indicated that I still had the capacity to possess fine qualities worthy of the praise of my maker and secretly hoped me might take notice.

To my chagrin, he did not. Victor continued to remain ignorant that I had any virtues at all, every gesture of goodwill I presented was rejected and he scorned my conversation at every turn.

Such was to be expected, I supposed…

Yet still a bitter disappointment it was when the food I set for him went uneaten and I was forced to dispose of it. Rather than see it go to waste I would set it outside for the animals, birds and squirrels gratefully picked at the bread and a fox fed on the meat.

Unable to speak to Victor I spoke to my bride, though I knew she could not hear me I found comfort in our one-sided conversation. In my wandering I had heard couples whispering endearments and I began to refer to her as “my darling” and “my sweetheart” perhaps she would like these little epithets for they sounded very soft to my ears and I wanted so much for her to have softness rather than scorn when she woke.

At night, once Victor slept, I would read poems aloud, just in case there was some sleeping spirit in her flesh that could hear my words. I knew this, perhaps, to merely be wishful thinking on my part but I could not deny myself hope.

There was something beautiful in this, in the process of creation. Mapping every detail of my beloved with careful fingers and handling the joining of her limbs and skin with the utmost care and delicacy. She could not feel pain but I needed to be gentle with my treasured companion. I had never been allowed to show tenderness, to caress and care for another, and despite my resolve that she should be ugly she was growing beautiful in my eyes. There was pride in every seam and love in every crack of her bones as I brought the pieces of her together.

Sometimes Victor seemed careless with her and it took everything in my power not to chide him for handling her roughly. Still, I was glad for his company, even if my maker hated me he still toiled by my side and sometimes I could compel him to speak with me. Once, very briefly, he came very close to smiling before he remember who I was and who he was and the resentment that followed that momentary lapse was greater than it had been before.

Still, after my deprivation even these crumbs had seemed a feast and I took every scrap of joy I could when the moments of peace between us presented themselves. Perhaps that was why I felt no need to hurry, because once we had completed my bride there would be no more of these brief instances.

But I would have her then and I would no longer need Victor. I must be content. I swore that would be content and I would keep my word and retreat from mankind forever.

As we neared the completion of my mate, I sensed Victor growing anxious. His hostility towards me had only increased and my attachment to my mate seemed to upset him for he had begun to snap at me whenever I spoke to my silent bride.

“She cannot hear you! Cease your damnable chattering!”

I had cringed away, though it was not in my nature to be meek I worried that lashing back at him might incite him to renege on his promise to me. Indeed, I had become paranoid that he was searching for a way out of our deal.

I had seen how he looked at his companion, the gentle poetic youth he kept by his side. Henry, he was called, I had seen him watching the sea before we had left for our makeshift laboratory. I considered the benefit of mentioning this to Victor and perhaps indicating that it would be detrimental to his dear one’s health should he go back on our bargain.

I could not describe my feelings for Victor Frankenstein. A longing for his approval and a deep-seated hatred that made me want to hurt him over and over again until he was as broken as I was. My father, though he refused to hear the word uttered from my lips, could not escape his obligations to me.

Even God gave Eve to Adam before he cast them out of his grace.

So too, my father owed this to me and I would not be denied.

The days stretched on until finally she was whole and all that was needed was the spark. The breath of life that would waken her to me. I had been outside, gathering more wood to add to our fire before a storm brought a soaking rain to dampen it too much for use. It was then I chanced to look in the window. Victor was standing over her, his alchemical instruments at the ready as the storm crested above us. Suddenly he looked up from his work and into my face. For the first time he gazed at me and there was an absence of hatred, something almost pitying in his eyes and I felt myself smile at him, wanting to reach for him. Either to comfort or be comforted by him I knew not.

The moment broke.

Something in my face must have frightened him for he recoiled with such panic that I was startled.

Then he grabbed a large, blunt, cleaver from a hook on the wall and before I could scream out in protest, he brought it down on my mate. He chopped at her in a mad frenzy, like a man possessed.

I rushed into the cabin, yanked his arm away and wrenched the cleaver by its blade from his hands, not caring how it bit into my own flesh.

“What are you doing?! Stop this! STOP! YOU PROMISED!” I screamed shaking him so hard that his arm was in danger of dislocating. I dropped him and surveyed the damage, hoping there was something salvageable in the ruin of my mate.

I sobbed when I saw the extent of the destruction. Her head was nearly severed, an arm had become detached, her innards spilled from her split belly and hung, wet and ropey over the edge of the table.

When I turned to confront Victor again, I saw him throw his journal into the fire. It seemed he was determined not only to destroy my bride but to keep from me the method by which I could hope to make another. I shoved him hard, not caring where he landed and reached into the flames to try and salvage the book.

The fire licked at my flesh, so hot I drew back. Bracing myself for the pain I reached in again and pulled the smoldering pages out, smothering the flames with my burnt hands. Futile, the book was scorched beyond use.

I rounded on Victor, not caring that my hands were blackened and still smoking when I reached for his throat. I wanted to kill him, I meant to kill him.

He was maddeningly calm, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back as though he would welcome my lethal embrace at last. My hands stilled on his neck, leaving hot black finger prints on the white of his skin.

No.

No, I would not end this here.

Chest heaving, tears running down my twisted face I withdrew. He meant to desolate me. To render me hopeless and eternally isolated. I would not grant him the merciful reprieve of death. I could not stay here, the sight of him was driving me to madness. If I was to leave him alive, I had to go.

With a howl of anguish, I fled.

I returned some hours later to find him, sitting in the wreckage of our work. He seemed to have been waiting for me.

I railed at him, and he at me, in the heated exchange of our words I grasped him and lifted him so his face was before mine.

“Slave,” I growled, no longer had I the desire to call him father. My teeth were mere inches from his cheek, flecks of my spittle wetting his skin, “I before reasoned with you but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power! You believe yourself miserable but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master-obey!”

He rebuffed me again. He was resolute that he would not return to our work. How infuriating that this sickly little man seemed to find his spine at the most inconvenient moments.

“Shall each man find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection,” I stressed the word and shook him a little, “and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man,” so I consigned him as one of my enemies, no more father, nor maker, nor even Victor, simply man now. His kind had declared war upon me so to would I deliver it back, “you may hate, but beware, your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness forever.”

I continued with my threats for some time, he trembled a little but did not break under my abuse.

“Man,” I said again in a sharp hiss, the word a curse and a brand upon him, “you shall repent of the injuries you inflict!”

“Devil,” he shot back at me with equal venom, “cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared my resolution to you and I am no coward to bend beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable.”

I dropped him, deriving some small satisfaction in watching him claw for purchase at filthy floor and struggle to his feet. Though my anguish seemed endless his had only begun. As I glanced once more at the sad heap of lifeless flesh and bone that had once borne all that had been my hope to find love in this world, I vowed that my revenge would be tenfold.

The ruin I left in my wake would be of such a magnitude any who heard of it should weep for Victor’s fate. As I turned to leave, I issued one final warning to him.

“It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your wedding night…”

#Frankenstein #Fanfic #my writing #adam frankenstein #victor frankenstein

47 notes · View notes

meetmyothersouls · 1 year

Text

Darling Death

A collaboration with @sufferingstarlight

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Warnings: mental illness, hospital observation room, talks of death, not proofread

Chapter 3 - Day 3

I suffered from my first hallucination at the ripe age of thirteen and after countless therapy sessions, hospital stays (for varying reasons), and psychiatry visits, I was handed an official diagnosis, secured in a manilla envelope addressed to my mother. Schizophrenia. Yeah, I know, a tough pill to swallow at thirteen. So, when I ended up at the hospital for observation, it wasn't too much of a shock. I think what hurt the most in the moment was who put me here.

I know what-who- I saw was real.

"Cell phone, keys, any-"

"I know the drill," I said, cutting the nurse off. She winced a little at my attitude. "Sorry," I added, as I emptied my pockets onto the counter.

The nurse, who told me her name was Debbi, lead me to my room for the night. Inside, was single bed, a single window on the wall next to it with a view into the hospital's courtyard, a bathroom (door excluded), a bench, a chair covered in cloth that had to be from 1985, and a nightstand, complete with the Holy Bible inside its drawer. Debbi took a seat on the bench across the room as I slide the Bible back in its place.

Debbi said something.

I let myself focus on the window. I'd been in observation rooms many times since my diagnosis. None of them had windows. In fact, I was quite sure windows were forbidden in observation rooms. Too many triggers.

Then I saw him. He was blurry at first, like he was appearing out of thin air, taking a moment to come into focus. I willed myself not to react. I stepped closer to the window, watching as he leaned his back against a tree in the center of the courtyard. He wasn't looking at me. I pressed one of my palms against the glass. Watching him. I remembered how close he was to me in the alley not even two hours ago. My stomach flipped and I cursed at myself for even thinking about how attractive he was and for noticing how good he looked in black. I focused my attention back down at him. He was looking at me now, a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he put one of his feet against the trunk of the tree behind him. His knee stuck out, in an inviting manner. The same knee he had between my legs. He waved at me, wiggling his fingers.

"Y/n?" Debbie said, she was standing behind me now, looking out of the window from behind me, taking note of what I was staring at, which was now...nothing. No one. He was gone.

"Hmm?"

"You okay over here?" She asked hesitantly. "I lost ya for a minute."

"Oh yeah! Yeah, I'm okay! I was just...admiring nature."

Night came surprisingly quick, considering how little there was to do in the observation room. Every now and then I snuck a peek out of the window, attempting to not appear to eager when I saw a something run across the courtyard, then attempting to not be slightly disappointed when it was just a squirrel or a nurse on their break.

"I'm gonna step out for five minutes to use the restroom. Can I trust you to be alone?" Debbie said, breaking the hours long silence.

"Yeah, yeah for sure. I'm good," I assured her. "Take your time."

Debbi left the door cracked. I waited until her footsteps were out of earshot and raced back over the window. There he was again, leaning back up against the tree. It was much darker now, but somehow his porcelain skin seemed to illuminate him in the darkness. I could see him perfectly. He smiled a small half smile when he saw me. He pointed to his watch and held his hand out. Was he asking when I'd be out? Why did he care?

I looked over my shoulder, making sure Debbie wasn't standing in the doorway watching me communicate to a seemingly invisible man. I shrugged.

"Still enjoying nature?" If Debbi saw that I was communicating with someone out there, she didn't let on.

"Oh yeah, the squirrels are...nice," I lied.

It was easy to doze off when the mind-numbing boredom took over. I'm not sure how long I was asleep when Debbi shook me awake.

"Hi, darlin'. I'm sorry to wake you but you've got a visitor."

"A visitor? Who?" I wiped the drool from my cheek.

Debbi was already shutting the door behind her, leaving me alone with none other than the grim reaper. I sat straight up in my bed, any ounce of sleepiness now eradicated.

"How did you? Did she? What?" I pulled the stiff scratchy sheet further up my body.

He sat on the dingy fabric covered chair across from the bed and crossed an ankle over his knee. "Told them I needed to see you. Yes she could see me. Hi, I've come to pick you up. Does that answer all your questions?"

I started at him, my mouth hanging open, "no actually you just created more."

"I kept looking for you after your little outburst in the middle of the road-you gotta quit doing that by the way, or else your gonna end up here a lot more before, you know- " he slid his thumb across his neck and made a slicing sound. "Anyway, found out they thew you in the loony bin. Took me forever to figure out how to get into that courtyard."

I rubbed my eyes, "wait, wait, wait, back up. Number one, you have got to quick throwing around my so called 'upcoming death' in conversation so causally. Number two, how do you even know where I am? Do you have some type of creepy grim reaper GPS system?"

"More or less," he shrugged.

I sighed, the whole ordeal not making any sense. These weren't things that happened in real life. These were things that happened in Netflix specials or dark romance books.

"Come on, let's go," he said, placing his hands on his knees before he stood up, he had those same rings on, and I was reminded how badly I wanted to lick the metal around each of his fingers.

I shook my head, snapping myself back into reality...as warped as it may be. "They won't let me leave," I said. "What time is it anyway?"

"Oh they'll let you leave," he said with confidence that made me dizzy. "It's 3:15 am." He held the door to my room open for me, making me walk under his arm, and suddenly I was very aware of my walk.

"Bye bye, y/n!" Debbi called, waving at me like a proud mother, "so glad you're feeling better, honey!"

I waved at her. She clearly didn't register the confused look on my face. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Don't worry about it."

We made our way out of the hospital with minimal effort. I secretly kept pinching myself, making sure this wasn't a dream. Then, just for good measure, I reached out and grabbed his leather jacket. I wasn't sure if it was real leather, but it was definitely tangible. You can't touch hallucinations. He stopped walking and looked down at me.

"Sorry, I was uhm, I was checking to see if you were real."

"And?"

"Well, you feel real."

"Good," he said satisfied and began to walk ahead of me. I had to jog to catch up with his long strides. At least this at this time there was no one else on the streets aside from the occasional homeless person, or dog walker.

"So," I said, catching my breath, "what's your name? You've been stalking me for two days and still haven't told me your name. Kinda rude to be honest."

"I don't have one," he answered quickly and matter of factly.

"Bullshit. Everyone has a name."

"Not me. Reapers don't get names. We have numbers, that's what we're identified by," he said, picking up speed again. He blurred himself for a moment, but I could still see that he was there. Almost like he put on a bad invisibility cloak.

"Will you cut that out!" I yelled, catching up to the blurry spot.

He came back into view and my body slammed into his. Cold and hard.

"You are a peculiar little creature," he said to me as he placed a hand on back to steady me before I fell.

We walked in silence for a moment. The air was cool for the time of year. I kept a mental note of the physical things about him, just in case. I could hear his shoes crunching against the sidewalk. I could feel the cold coming off of his body, like an ice cube straight from the freezer.

"They used to call me Timothee," he said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Really? Who?" I was intrigued.

The reaper pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was trying hard to recall. "I can't remember. It's like...I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he chuckled, "but it's like I feel like I had this other life at one point and in that life, I was called Timothee."

He looked like a Timothee. The name suited him well.

"What about your number?"

"Thirteen."

Of course.

"Well," I said. We were now walking the same speed, our strides somehow matching. "Since you're gonna be around for a few days...would you rather me call you Timothee or Thirteen?"

He stopped and I had to backtrack a few steps. Then he smiled at me, a genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle adorably…for a reaper.

"Timothee."

This has been a SufferingSouls project

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #dark!timothee #darling death #sufferingstarlight

69 notes · View notes

merylstreepsworld · 1 year

Text

Tension

Warning: sexual themes, implied sex, some smut

Pairing: Donna Sheridan x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,359

Author's note: this is my first story so it's probably not great. But I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Prompt:

(Y/n) giving Donna a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been sitting on the bed with pillows propped up behind you. The only light illuminating the room was a single lamp on your bedside table. Looking over at the other side of the bed next to you, the spot was empty. Sighing you knew Donna was out working on something or other around the hotel. She always worked herself to death and when you tried to help you felt like you just got in the way. Your gaze found its way back to the book, a simple romance novel. One the told the tales of a love that would last through the decades, pretty cliché. You began reading once more, but the feeling of helping Donna still nagged at you. Standing up, you made your way to the window next to the bed. Looking out across the Villa, you could see moon reflecting on the ocean. The vase of flowers sitting on the windowsill provided a flowery aroma in the room. You closed your eyes and breathed in the fresh air, the silence of the room was interrupted by someone coming in through the door.

Turning around you saw a rather frustrated Donna shedding her shoes and overalls before flopping down on the bed face down. She was now only wearing underwear and her white blouse.

Walking back over to the bed and sitting next to her you questioned with a concerned tone,

"What's wrong hun?"

"I had to relay some stones in the courtyard, then there was another crack beginning to form so I had to fill that in. I had to replace some boards in the floor, the attic in the goat house had an infestation of squirrels that I had to get out..." She continued on and as she did you began rubbing her back. Slowly and methodically, beginning to press harder and really dig deep. Your palms dug in, trying to gage how tense her muscles were. Halfway through her sentence she stopped,

"And then- oh god... right there" She moaned as you had found the best place to release tension in her back. She hummed in pleasure as your hands continued their work.

Donna had stopped talking all together and had instead taken to making whimpers and moans.

"Sit up so I can really work your shoulders"

You requested.

Donna did as she was instructed, she sat with her legs crisscrossed.

Placing your hands on either shoulder you began once more. Really rubbing her shoulders to try and loosen her up.

She leaned back into your touch, her head tilted back toward you so you could see her lips were parted and eyes closed. Your thumbs pushed between her shoulder blades as you tried to relax her shoulders.

"Relax darling. You've got so much pent-up stress" you whispered in her ear. You felt her ease a bit more. Moving down her back you rubbed down either side of her spine.

"I think I have a much more effective way to get rid of my... tension." Her voice was husky and she grabbed your hands and brought them around to her breasts. Her hands squeezed yours as she leaned all the way back against you. The back of her head rested on your shoulder, you couldn't help but chuckle at how cheeky she was.

"Well... you're quite smooth tonight." You grinned.

"What can I say, I've got a lot of tension." She shrugged. You kissed the top of her head and continued massaging her breasts.

"You know I did make dinner for us. Aren't you hungry?" You questioned.

"I'm hungry for something other than food..."

She sat up on her knees and turned around and faced you. Crawling up the bed on her hands and knees your back was against the headboard of the bed. She crawled onto your lap, straddling it. Her hands came up to your cheeks before taking you into a heated kiss, your hands rested on her waist.

Donna became more desperate as she began unbuttoning her shirt. She groaned when you rubbed her waist and your hands found her ass and squeezed.

"Donna" You moaned against her lips.

She hummed in return.

"I know we can talk about this later... but... I need you to know that... I want to help out around the hotel. I always feel like I get in the way... but... I genuinely want to help.." You said in between kisses. Donna pulled back from you, now gazing into her blue eyes as she scanned your face.

"I appreciate that, Y/N" her thumb stroked your cheek,

"I really do...Thank you," She said before kissing you once more, this time giving you multiple tiny pecks before traveling down your neck and to the collar of your shirt.

Her hands made quick work of unbottoning your shirt, exposing your breasts. Her lips gently kissed down and around your nipple, you bit your lip in anticipation. Her mouth finally wrapped around your sensitive nipple, she always knew just how to touch you and it drove you absolutely crazy. Your hands sifted through her blonde hair, gently tugging and pulling from time to time.

You were so preoccupied with the sensations Donna was providing that you hadn't even realized her hand slipped into your pants until she began rubbing your clit.

You threw your head back, your body arched against hers.

"Oh god. Donna, aren't I supposed to be releasing your tension?" You gasped,

"I want to take care of you Donna, please"

Her eyes met yours, and detached her lips from your nipple with a pop.

"Knowing that I can please you helps me relax." She kissed your temple.

"Donna, I'm begging you... just let me take care of you first." You whispered, sitting up you grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand from your pants. Kissing her soft velvet lips as you laid her down on the bed, her head at the foot of the bed. Kissing down her neck and her exposed chest, she'd only managed to get 2 of her buttons undone so you unbuttoned the rest while trailing kisses down her skin. One of your hands played with her pink nipple while you kissed along the edge of her underwear. You took your hands and glided then over her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

------------------------------

Donna lay breathless on the bed, her eyes closed still coming down from her high. You got up and slipped your underwear on, looking back at her spread out on the bed.

The light of the moon was cast through the windows and made her look radiant. Smiling at your work you were proud that you could make her this speechless.

"Now are you hungry?" You asked.

She nodded so you walked over to her, you took her hands in yours and gently pulled her up. She collected her panties from the floor and loosely pulled her blouse on just so it covered her breasts. Looking at her neck and collarbones you could already see hickeys beginning to form. Her hair was all frizzy and out of place, she stopped to look at herself in the mirror.

You went ahead of her and walked into the kitchen, getting two bowls down and began to fill them with the spaghetti that you'd made earlier. You'd left the stove top on low to keep the food warm while you'd waited for Donna so it would still be warm when you were ready to eat.

The scraping of a chair against wood could be heard as Donna sat down at the table. The smell of the spaghetti and homemade sauce filled the air and wafted throughout the house. You placed the bowl in front of her as you'd prepared her food how she liked it. Placing a kiss on her head before returning to the stove to make your bowl.

"Thank you," her voice cracked as she tried to talk.

"You're welcome. Don't over do your voice, I'm sure all that screaming strained it." You quietly laughed.

You heard a small snicker come from Donna's direction.

The two of you settled down to eat and take it easy the rest of the evening, just talking about plans for the hotel and relishing in each other's company.

#meryl streep #merylstreep #meryl streep x reader #donna sheridan x reader #mamma mia #donna sheridan

84 notes · View notes

myoddessy · 2 years

Text

a rose by any other name. r. lupin. ( royal au! )

summary —you, a princess set to marry an unwilling sirius black find yourself enchanted by the newest addition to your staff and realise that love isn't false vows and hateful silence during wedding nights. it's beautiful, and synonymous with the name remus lupin.

warnings —reader and sirius' parents are collective parts of the antichrist. very very very minor nsfw but no actual smut.

word count —5k

note —everybody say thank you @pogueswrld for giving me the nicknames remus calls the reader 💕

the playlist

SUN SHONE BETWEEN CLOUDS and gentle wind sent glistening ripples through the pond that you found yourself seated before. Grass tickled the areas of skin that your nightgown failed to cover and the faintest touch of morning dew cooled your legs. Squirrels scampered down cracked bark in search of food, birds leapt from thin branches in glorious flight, rabbits scurried over golden foothills. It was serene, blissful and unbothered. The sun shifted from behind its wispy prison to fully beat down on you, a silent good morning, and you smiled—something you hadn't done a lot as of late.

When songbirds chirped from above you, you knew that your peace was fleeting and soon you'd be left with stress and lecturing mothers. It would be at least ten minutes before your ladies-in-waiting came padding along the recently-cut grass with summons from your mother, but your bliss was already bothered and you saw no point in trying to restore it, so you stood and wordlessly made your way back to the palace.

Your bare feet thudded against the cold stone steps leading to your quarters when the shrill voice of your family's head of staff, and your mother's chief lady-in-waiting, cut through the silence. "My lady," she chastised upon seeing your appearance—dishevelled and unruly with morning entertainment. "You must hurry, your ladies are already waiting for you to welcome the new wave of help." You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"Why must I be the one to welcome them. Can't mother do it? Or is she too busy courting a married man?" She cut of your words with a quick hit across your jaw, harsh but not strong enough to turn your head. It was obvious, and frighteningly embarrassing, how your mother smiled dazedly at Orion Black when Walburga's back was turned. Everybody knew it, but nobody spoke of it.

"It would do you well to watch your words, mistress. Your mother is doing you a service by marrying you to Sirius, there are much less gentle suitors longing for your name."

"You say such things as if my words ring untrue." She hurried to push you up the remaining stairs towards your bedroom, hurriedly closing the behind you when you entered.

"Milady." Your lead lady-in-waiting, Rosalie, greeted with a small nod.

"Get her ready, fast." The stout woman instructed firmly before hurrying out of the room. Rosalie guided you closer with a soft hold on your arm.

She let out a giggle at your long-set face. "I take it you're not having a good morn, ma'am." She says you down before your vanity, patting your cheeks fondly. "I don't think any of my mornings will be 'good' for the rest of my life." You groaned. "And don't call me ma'am, Rosie, please."

Rosalie smiled, fussing over your hair, slipping silver, ruby-crested floral pins into it. "Well, darling, I'm afraid you could do much worse than a betrothal into the Black family." Her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth as she focused on arranging the pins. "I'd be more than happy to take your place when it comes to making heirs, however." Your eyes widened and you reached out to playfully slap her sides.

"Rosalie Abbot! Retain your dignity, woman." She laughed loudly at your response, but she couldn't fight her proud grin from rising after distracting you from your annoyance.

"What gown are you feeling today, my sweet?" She asked, moving to open the large oak wardrobe in the far corner of your room. "Your mother insisted for one of your finer garments, but I know those can be dreadfully uncomfortable, especially with the corset pieces." Her fingers worked quickly as they flitted through dress, upon dress, upon dress. "Maybe," She drew out her word as she reached to pull out a dress towards the back, "this one." She proudly held a carnation pink gown before her.

It was simple in its elegance, but undoubtedly regal all the same. It paired with a white-lined corset in a matching colour. The sleeve flared with thick strips of white fabric and the skirt was light and airy. You smiled in relief, glad she'd chosen one of your lighter gowns as you knew the hoop and underskirts would threaten to boil you in the summer heat.

Moving back to you, she grabbed your hands and pulled you up to your feet. Kind words flowing from her rouged lips as she fiddled with the ties, strings, and other intricacies of your dress before ushering you out of the room and towards the servants quarters where you soon to be expected.

Horace Slughorn, your family's longest-standing member of staff stood as proudly as a man of his short stature could by the doors leading to the servant's quarters. "Your highness." He greeted you with a familiar smile and a steep bow. You returned the warmth of expression, grateful to the man who'd practically raised you, even though he refused to call you by your name, no matter how many times you requested otherwise. "The new staff, they're all brilliant workers, kind souls as well, I do hope you'll like them." He lent you his arm to loop yours through as he guided you to where they were waiting.

They were a diverse group, a collection of differences blinked back at you when you moved along the long line of them with a welcoming smile and a gentle handshake. Once done with your welcomed, they were lead off one-by-one by your head of staff until only one was left.

Unlike the others who kept their head bowed before you, his chin was held high, making you the one looking up at him as his height taunted you. Your breath caught when you looked at him, fighting the urge to giggle like a school-child. Lord, what was happening to you? Not even a word shared with this man and you felt like kicking your feet in the air and hiding you face in your pillows.

You held your palm before him, stomach turning when he took it in his of gentle warmth. His hands were strong and visibly rough with work. They'd undoubtedly look even more enticing hurriedly untying a corset or hiking up a skirt. His lips were soft, full, and pink. They hung in a loose line and you couldn't help but wonder what they'd look like after kissing your skin. His eyes were deep and dark, something about the way he looked at you sparked images of those same eyes blown wide with lust while moonlight decorated his features. His head ducked to a slight bow. "I'm pleased to be at your service, Ma'am." His voice was rough and coarse—like rock salt, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Your shoulders stiffened and he tried to stifle a smirk.

He knew the effect he had on you.

Your eyes trailed to his clothes and you cursed yourself for your thoughts when you remembered his status and yours. Who were you, royalty soon to be wed, to think such sacrilegious thoughts of him, staff with no respect to his name. But what was a name? It was a word, nothing more, nothing less. It wielded the power one gave it. So what stopped you from stripping him and you of your names, simply existing as longing souls.

You let go of his hand, smiling weakly while fighting the bulging of your eyes once catching your thoughts. Longing? Goodness, you needed a drink, or a bath, or a prayer, or something to stop you from thinking such things of a servant you met mere minutes ago.

•─────────🏹─────────•

She was wearing her cornflower blue gown. It was Monday. Your mother's words were undoubtedly scrutinising, but you didn't process them. Instead, your eyes were trained on the figures passing by the halls. Never before had your staff been so interesting, but something about him made you intrigued. You wanted—no, you needed to see him again.

A loud clang brought you from your searching, eyes now focused on the poised family strutting in to join you and your mother at the centre table. Sirius hurried hurried to sit on your left, Regulus taking your right, while Orion and Walburga sat to the right of your mother.

Walburga's face was set like stone when you reached over to shake her hand, she brushed it to the side and took your left hand in hers. You fought back a wince and the cold you felt from her skin. She ran the tips of her fingers along your ring finger, trying to gage your ring size before dropping it and turning to conversante with your mother.

You looked closer to examine her. Clear silk lining ran along the hem of her skirt and the pufferfish cuffs of her sleeves, green thread intertwining with gold in the most boringly elitist way. Poor people couldn't afford gold linen, so Walburga Black made a point in exclusively wearing garments lathered in it.

Everything about that woman and her family was sickeningly wealthy, even for a royal. The mahogany dining tables with pristine polish and overflowing with lavish meals and jewel-crested chalices. The pearl-circled diamond rings that weighed down her thin, cold hands. The cosmetics that caked her pale cheeks that even your family would struggle to afford in the amounts she so gluttonously applied.

Before you had the displeasure of meeting Walburga Black, you didn't think something as simple as a name would cause you to choke down bile. You now knew you were wrong, so very wrong.

As if sensing your nerves, Sirius placed a hand on your leg. A gesture affectionate enough to con your families into believing romance danced in the air, but with the playful squeeze you'd come to associate with his friendship. That's what lay between the two of you; friendship. Having been betrothed since birth, you'd found out that your fates were intertwined long before your paths and, in some universe, you were soulmates. Sirius Black, your best friend, your future husband.

As much as you adored Sirius, the thought of marrying him made you gag. He was your brother as much as Regulus was his. They were your family. But riches and prosperity looked beyond blood and bond, eyes hungry for for power.

You placed your hand above his, cheekily pinching the back on his hand and rolling your lips to conceal a laugh. Sirius reached to fill three chalices—yours, his, and regulus's—with strawberry juice, smiling like a future husband should when he passed yours back to you, painfully aware of the eyes of your mother and his parents trained on him.

"Drink up, bitch." He coughed into his cup when you kicked his shin, a single drop of juice escaping from his lips and dribbling down his chin. Eyes flashing with panic, you hastily grabbed a napkin and dabbed it from his face before Walburga could notice. You and Sirius had an unspoken rule around your friendship—anything was free game, physical fights, humiliation, mockery, but when the other's family was near, you did whatever you could to keep up appearances. Your mother wasn't a gentle soul, but you knew that compared to Walburga Black, she was a saint.

Hours dragged by like years, and it was only when moon trickled in through the angular stained-glass windows of the grand hall that Orion brought up the notion of calling whatever the gathering was to a close. You hugged Regulus tightly, ruffling his hair, much to his dismay. To Sirius, you gave a much more gracious goodbye; a curtsey and a chaste kiss on the cheek ( with a quick 'fuck you' whispered in his ear, but nobody needed to know that ). Walburga bade you adieu with a curt nod, Orion much the same, and soon you found yourself free of your corset and gown, staring at your bedroom ceiling as midnight shone upon your face.

You tossed and turned, sheets strewn around in messy dismay until you decided to take a walk around the palace to try and urge sleep to take over. Abandoning footwear, your feet padded softly along the cool stone floor while your nightgown hung gently around your ankles.

Your hands traced along the walls, running over the dips and dives in the rock, dancing along the ridges in the golden frames of paintings older than your father. You heard someone walking slowly a few feet before you, their shadow coming to view when they passed a candelabra.

"Hello?" You called out gently, cautious of the echo. The halted in their steps, but said nothing. You soon caught up to them, a familiar feeling growing the closer you got. It seemed as though he was more beautiful in the moonlight.

"Your highness." He dipped his head in a slight bow.

"Please do not call me that."

He met your eyes, mild confusion swimming in his, masked well with confidence. "Then what would you like me to call you?"

"Anything other than that, I plead." He continued walking, slower now so that you could keep pace.

"Alright, anything other than that." His lips quirked in a half-smile at your agitation.

"You know that's not what I meant." You rolled your eyes, though any annoyance was quick to flood away. "So what should I call you?"

"Don't most royals call with snapping fingers or second hand summons?"

"Most royals have their heads so far up their own arses, they can taste their crowns."

A laugh slipped out of him at that, and you felt yourself grow proud at the sound. "With words like that, one could mistake you for a servant yourself."

"Let them, I'd rather be anything than what I am."

"Why so honest?" This made you stop, Remus following suit. Why were you so honest with him?

"You seem trustworthy." You shrugged.

"I've been called worse, I suppose." He grinned.

You continued walking, conversation ebbed and flowed, but, in truth, neither of you cared if the other talked, for an odd comfort was found in them simply being there. Two near-strangers walking aimlessly around a palace at midnight. It almost belonged in a portrait hung front and centre in a gallery, but it never would. It was sacred and secret. It was yours and yours only, something you couldn't say for most things.

He was interesting, still withholding his name, you'd silently chosen to name him Moony. A childish name, really. One you wouldn't be surprised to see pinned as the antagonist in a Little Red Riding Hood ripoff, but one that perfectly belonged to him with the way moonbeams framed his face in an almost cherubic glint. Like a pearl—rich, special, and selective. It felt a privilege to speak with him, status be damned.

You'd found that you were both similar, in a vague way. You liked the same foods, enjoyed the same simplicities of literature and festivals. Although, your opinions differed when it came to the kingdom you were to rule and its inhabitants.

Remus mused something about how the only reason you saw them as decent was because you'd never lived amongst them, and though the same could be said for his view on royals, you kept quiet and wallowed in the passion of his words. He claimed that those under the working class were vial and far crueler than a royal on their worst days. He spoke of crime and deceit and cheating between lovers and family alike. Still, your heart was set on sympathy for them. It confused him as much as it intrigued him.

A yawn creeped past your lips, ones he would vehemently deny staring at, and with a gentle hand placed on his bicep, you asked him to walk you back to your room. He did with what you'd assume was his duty as your staff, but was truly an odd pull to speak with you more, even if sleep laced your words and made your sentences barely comprehensible.

"Can we do this again, Moony?" You asked tiredly, holding onto the golden knob of your bedroom door.

He huffed out an amused laugh, "Moony?" He kept his voice low, careful to not risk waking anyone else dwelling nearby, and the added gruff in his tone made your grip tighten as your knees grew light.

"You refused to tell me your name, so I made one for you."

He nodded, amusement still present while he looked at you. "I can never sleep at midnight, walking helps." He began to walk backwards, towards the servants quarters. "Do with that what you will, sunshine." And with a fleeting wink and a quiet noise you'd swear was a chuckle, he turned his back to you and continued walking.

You caught yourself before you could yell out a question of the name, not bothering to fight the grin that grew. He had a nickname for you. A giggle slipped out before you could stop it and you slapped a hand over your mouth with wide eyes. What was this man doing to you?

•─────────🏹─────────•

Each midnight, you woke. Each midnight, he waited. Each midnight, you walked. You conversations were versatile, they varied from favourite baked goods—he claimed to forever stand by Bakewell tarts, despite being an avid chocolate lover. You looked at him as if he were insane—to what you'd do when you were inevitably crowned queen and whether or not he'd be allowed in your staff.

"You're certain your husband wouldn't grow envious of my dashing good looks?" He joked one night as you crossed the bridge that stood proudly above the moat surrounding your home. You'd made the daring choice of taking your stroll further, out of the shadows cast in stone hallways and echoing corridors and into the starlight paths of the palace grounds.

"He'd find some way to live, I'm sure." You laughed. "Can't say he won't be over dramatic about it, though. Sirius always had a flair for theatrics?"

"Sirius?" He stopped walking.

"Mhm." You nodded, standing beside him. "It something the matter, Moony?"

"Are you betrothed to him?" You looked up at him, expecting a taunt, but only seeing seriousness and what looked to be worry, but that could be a trick of the light.

"Yes." Came your short reply.

"You don't sound too happy about it."

"Well, I'd assume that's because I'm not."

"Why? Isn't he the one with girls falling at his feet. Surely it would be a girl's dream to marry him." There was a near-bitter lilt in his words.

"Possibly, but I've never wanted to marry into royalty." His rested his elbows on the bridge railing, head turning to you. You had his full attention, like you always did. "I love Sirius, truly. He's one of the few people I can call a genuine friend. But I could never call him a husband and mean it, I think he feels the same. He never wanted to be a prince, you see. It's why he always begs our parents to allow us to the festivals, because, for once, we feel like normal people."

It went silent, but not uncomfortably so. It was the silence that often took hold of the later segment of your walks, the silence you'd grown to yearn for over the past few weeks. It was warm, like a blanket, like Remus. You hadn't realised that you'd moved closer to him until your head rested on his shoulder.

"I feel like a normal person around you, Moony."

Had you looked up and taken your eyes off of the moonbeam ripples in the water below, you would have seen Remus swallow words that danced on the tip of his tongue and wince at the reddish hue rising to his cheek.

"I feel normal around you too, sunshine."

He was lying.

Around you, he felt like a god.

"You make me feel sane, Moony."

He placed his head on top of yours. "You make me feel sane too, sunshine."

He was lying.

You drove him insane and made him fight his desires to grab your face and kiss you until you forgot everything but his touch and his name.

You decided that the night had finally taken its toll on you, and Remus lead you back to your room, waiting until you closed the door to breath out a long sigh and whisper in a voice barely audible to the air around him.

"I'm falling in love with you, sunshine."

He wasn't lying.

•─────────🏹─────────•

"Have a thing for stable bucks now, do you?" Sirius asked with a smirk, laughing at the panic in your eyes when your head snapped towards him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been staring at that tall specimen for longer than I've been talking, and I've been talking for a while now, sweets." You looked down at your cup, swirling around the remmenants of your now-cold tea with a bashful grin that Sirius knew all too well. "Oh my days, you care for him!"

You all but leapt across the table to cover his mouth before someone heard. "Would you ever shut up?" You hissed.

"You're not denying it." For a fiancé after catching his bride-to-be ogling at another, Sirius was marvellously entertained. "It's fine if you do, darling. It means you won't be entirely miserable when our doomed day arrives."

The room grows solemn, something that rarely happened between you and Sirius. Then again, you'd both done everything you could to avoid the topic of your wedding. You picked at your cuticles and Sirius looked at you with worry, pained at your distress.

"Have you ever thought about running away?" You asked him, finally looking up from your nails. Sirius blinked once, then twice, then once more for good measure, reassuring himself that it was, in fact, you who posed such a question.

"Every damned day." He huffed, falling back into the plush cushions of his chair.

"Why don't you?"

"Honest answer?" You both sat forward now, leaning close so that Sirius could whisper his answer after your nod. "I could never find it in myself to leave you alone."

"What if we ran away together?" Your eyes unwillingly flitted towards Remus when you spoke and, at that, smile threatened to grow on Sirius' lips.

"How serious are you for pretty boy over there?"

"Honest answer?"

"Always."

"Frighteningly so." Sirius laughed fondly at the stress on your face. "I've never felt this way about anyone, Siri, it's odd."

"Maybe you're in love." He shrugged and your eyes widened at how he could say such things with such nonchalance.

"Love?" The word seemed foreign.

"He'd be daft to not be in love with you as well." He continued. "Hell, if I hadn't been there when you ate mud because I told you it was 'nature's chocolate', I'd be in love with you too." He tossed a grape into his mouth. "You need to start recognising your worth, dear."

"Where are you going with this?" You tried to veer the conversation away from what you were terrified was the truth.

"Run away with him."

"I cannot leave you, Sirius, I wouldn't be able to live with it." You reached across the table to take his hand in yours.

"I'll hide away in my room for a few days, then flee myself. Maybe we'll meet again by the seaside some day."

"You truly have gone mad."

"Maybe." He mused, free hand loving to cover yours. "But I know that you've got more life left in you that I do, and I'll be damned if I let this stupid wedding crush that." Your eyes threatened to well up in uncharacteristic vulnerability. "You're the only thing that's given me hope in all of my years. You've made me happier than words can say, so if you think I won't give up my life to grant you the same, then your far more dim-witted than I gave you credit for."

"He'd think I'm insane."

Sirius shrugged. "If he says no, the he says no, and we move on to have a more caring marriage than these families have ever seen. Or he says yes, and we both get to run to what we truly wish for."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I do hate when you're wise."

Orion called his name from the door, saying how their carriage had just drawn outside. Sirius nodded dutifully and kissed your forehead. "Promise me you'll ask him, angel?"

You squeezed his hand. "I promise."

•─────────🏹─────────•

Grass tickled the sides of your face as you lay down, Remus by your side, and early morning on your skin. Sirius' words danced on your mind, and your promise to him echoed through your skull. With a deep breath, you turned your head to the side and looked at Remus directly.

"You alright, sunshine?" He asked, eyes raking across your face in search of an answer.

"Will you run away with me?"

He went silent. Your heart stopped.

He stayed silent. Your heart broke.

You rose your feet and went to go back inside while Remus' mind whirred.

You were royal, labelled as desirable artwork. But Remus Lupin seemed to have forgotten that, or maybe he was simply too fond of the view, for he was close to you. So close he could see them, hell, if he wanted to, he could reach out and feel the ridges or the brushstrokes that made you. The imperfections that suitors stayed far enough away to ignore.

What they felt was lust. Lust for you, lust for your name, and lust for the power that came with them both. What Remus felt was different. Dare he say it was love? Love for you, love for your banishment of his name, love for every book and cranny that rose and fell with your breath.

And he knew of the risks. Remus Lupin was far from a man of little intelligence, he knew what he would have to sacrifice in hopes of holding her close, but none of it mattered.

Sacrifice and sacrilege was pushed aside when it came to women such as Y/n L/n, for she was everything the sun could grant you. She was the fresh promise of tomorrow's dawn to guide you through turbulent seas.

When you meet someone like her, when you touch someone like her, when you love someone like her, you never stop. It becomes you infatuation, it becomes so vital to you everyday thoughts that it ends up being your reason to push through smoke and continue your days.

Remus would throw it all away from her, she was his sun, his moon, his future, and his past. She was his life, and he swore from when he was a boy that he would live to the fullest. He reached out and grabbed your wrist. "Please don't go."

A tense moment passed.

"Please, Sunshine."

"If you're going to deny me, all I ask is that you do it with mercy—"

Your words were caught of his the passion that came from warm palms cupping your cheeks and pulling your body flush with his.

"I could never deny you anything. If you asked for a ray of the sun, you'd find the star waiting by your door before an hour could pass. You have done nothing but plague my every moment, woken or resting, I cannot escape you. I don't want to. But you need to understand what comes with what you've asked of me. We will be outlaws. We will be on the run for the rest of our lives. We will have no settled roof over our heads. No home."

Your hands rested on the back of his neck, pulling him closer until your noses brushed. "When I'm with you, I am home. When I look at you, it's as if breath has been stolen from my lungs and is pushed back to my body when you speak. I need nothing of material nor substance so long as I'm with you."

"Can I kiss you?" He was so close that you could practically feel the words as the flowed from his lips, and your eyes were already fluttering shut when you replied.

"Please."

Being truly vulnerable with someone is a privilege, for them and for you. The ultimate trust of seeing and revealing the honesty of yourself. Kisses can be controversial. They can be used as manipulation, as currency, as lies.

But right now, in that moonlight moment in a palace garden, a kiss was god. An act with so many meanings used to show every emotion words failed to portray. Every ounce of love, every piece of you was poured into that kiss. In such a universal act, you were wrapping up your entity and handing it to Remus with a bright red bow on top.

And Remus. Remus was lost for the longest time, simply floating until he found you. But this kiss, this moment, was tethering, it was the roots of a tree planted centuries ago. It was everything he had longed for, everything he missed, and everything he had once more.

You were everything. You were his, just as much as he was yours, and what more could one ask for?

If love truly was real, and not a feeble thing from fables and folklore, then you were certain you'd found it in him. In the tattered clothes and scarred planes of parchment-shaded skin that could mean no other saint that Remus John Lupin, you'd found love.

It was clear that he'd found it in the eloquent tongue and extravagant gowns of you as well. Indisputable adoration seeping through the cracks of his hands as his fingers traced over every inch of your self, and a tone more gentle that a fairy's whisper when he spoke to you. He'd found love.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #sirius black x reader #sirius black #james potter x reader #james potter #regulus black x reader #regulus black #marauders x reader #marauders era x reader #marauders era #harry potter universe #harry potter x reader #royal!au #royal!reader #princess!reader #forbidden love #Spotify

344 notes · View notes

anikasenkujo · 1 year

Text

Cinnamon Rolls

pairing: jotaro kujo x anika sen (jojo oc) (jotanika) | wc: 3250

summary: anika finds a way to spoil her husband on his birthday, by making his favorite dessert, cinnamon rolls.

warnings: fluff + bit of angst + smut, oral fixation, predominantly lovemaking, usage of star platinum's time stop and dangerous woman's positions ability for a moment (it's not inappopriate kdfnd will write a foursome with them sometime kfnfn), blowjob, deepthroating, kissing of scars, cunnilingus, fingering, lactation, unprotected (she's on the pill), creampie, aftercare, usage of pet names ( "darling," "sweetie," "wife," "shona" {which means beloved or sweetheart in Bangla} )

a/n: Yes, I am FINALLY writing a one-shot on these precious babies of mine, that involves no requests. :P Also, this fic, with the mood board, is MY submission for my Valentine's Day Collab, Let’s Celebrate Love! Also, my headcanon is that Jotaro’s birthday is on the 9th of Feb, but I couldn’t post anything out of suffering from anxiety issues. Regardless, happy birthday, love. You deserve the best in the whole world. Thank you, for comforting me with this Well, I hope this makes up for it 💕 Also, a couple of my good friends and I discussed that Jotaro likes cinnamon rolls, hence this story. Nevertheless, please do enjoy this because there is more to come <3 Also, minors please DNI with this post and any smut content I post here, and also, block any post with the tag: #we sinfully yearn

song: lucky ones by lana del rey

As the clock struck midnight in the Kujo household, things were starting to settle in with Jovita finally sleeping normally, being kinder to her parents’ sleep schedules, and the relationship between Jotaro and Anika, which had multiple cracks all over, was showing signs of healing. It was Valentine’s week, which also included Jotaro’s birthday, so the house had a couple of decorations, especially after encountering an old lady at the shop who was being unnecessarily picky with both of them. According to Anika, she deserved much more than the slashing of tires. As Jotaro was making the bed, wondering where his wife could be, he heard a soft whisper, “psst, shona,” as the bedroom door opened, with her peeping through the door like a squirrel. “Can you come downstairs, please?” and then hurriedly climbed down the stairs to the kitchen.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he sighed and followed suit as he saw Anika getting what looked like a plate of cinnamon rolls with one lit candle as she brings it before him with Dangerous Woman standing by her side. He looked at the cake and at her with a soft smile on his face. “You, you remembered?” He asked, hesitatingly. She chuckled softly, responding, “Even if I were to forget everything all over again, I wouldn’t be able to forget this date.” This meant a lot to him considering she had forgotten everything about him for years on end, until they reunited in 1999. She walked towards him, singing the birthday song softly so as to not wake Jovita up. She then stood by his side as he blew the candle, cut a piece, and realized that it looked just like the way his mother used to make it. Delighted, they fed each other. As he was eating the cinnamon roll, he realized that she took time and care in baking it, which he noticed from the texture. It’s moist, decadent, and, like her, precious.

With a comfortable silence lingering between them, Anika ran her finger across the frosting of the cinnamon roll, and brought it closer to Jotaro’s lips. Understanding what she wanted to do, he licked the frosting off her finger, sucking on it slowly, and not breaking eye-contact. She could feel her heart thumping, and her breathing labored as she took her finger off his mouth. He asked her calmly, “Ani-chan, are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Because, I’m worried about hurting you, and I don’t want to—” Without replying, she approached him, her lips landing on his, while they cupped each other’s cheeks and raked their nails through each other’s locks.

It had been five months since Jovita was born, and even then, Anika was struggling with a ton of things. Core muscle weakness, stretch marks, sore breasts—everything. She knew her husband doesn’t care for her changing appearance because he was sure that she would be fine, but little did she know that it pained him to see her feel ugly about the way she looks. This was a much-needed break from their dry spell as they kissed each other, drowning in their passion for one another. To both of them, their lips felt incredibly touch-starved yet divine. They both felt, at that moment, like they were truly at home.

He put his thumb in Anika’s mouth for her to suck on slowly. As he watched her do so, his cerulean eyes never left her ebony ones. “Anika-chan,” he spoke softly, “are you really sure you want to do this?” She nodded, letting go of his thumb, and responded, “Shona, until we get to a point where we can spend time by ourselves, this is my birthday gift to you. I want to hold you, hug you, and make love to you…” The last few words piqued his interest so much, as it’s something he wanted to do from quite a while—not fuck her rough, but enjoy her as she is. As he never let go of her gaze, she laces her arms behind his neck and kissed him open-mouthed, pushing her tongue against his.

He cupped her butt, lifting her into the air, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, with the kiss quickly becoming hot and frenetic as they slowly climbed upstairs to their bedroom. His hands ran down her back, and he unzipped her red polka-dotted maternity dress that she still wore after giving birth, causing it to drop to the bedroom floor. The moment he sat her down on the bed, he was in awe at her being completely naked and vulnerable in front of him, so he took off all his clothes, including his favorite boxers, in front of her, which caused her to become extremely flustered.

As she turned elsewhere, he lifted her head by her chin in his direction. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, “don’t think of anything else. Let me love you even more as you offer your all to me all over again on this day. Let me show you how I’m in love with each and every part of you.” She giggled, and responded, “I hope you know that it’s your birthday today, Jotaro. Not mine—” Half a second later, she feels herself lying on the bed. It’s amusing how he could stop time seemingly out of nowhere, even if only for a fraction of a second. “What did you—” He smiled as he climbed on top of her and responded, “Not your birthday, yet. I know. Ten months to go, now be still and let me explore you.”

The moment she nodded is when he brought his face closer to her, with his lips landing on hers again, splayed one of his hands on her waist, and the other caressed her hair as they kept kissing. His lips traveled down her neck, past her chin. While Anika’s breathing hitched, he rasped, “Do you want me to stop, my wife?” She gasped, as she couldn’t believe what he just called her. She felt her stomach doing a backflip after hearing him call her “his wife.” Sure, they’d been married for over two years, but never had that felt more real than this very moment. “No, darling, please don’t stop,” she whimpered as his fingers brushed against her bare skin, sending shivers down her spine.

He kissed her on the sensitive spot between the neck and shoulder while she was bare and vulnerable before him, and as their skin touched, she clasped his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist while they kept kissing. Soon, they switched positions using Dangerous Woman, and she climbed onto his lap. She whispered in-between kisses, “I’d like to make you feel good, sweetie, may I?” She kissed him on the eyelids without waiting for an answer. “Did I ever tell you that when we first met, your eyes totally caught my attention? They’re the most beautiful ones I’ve seen.”

She then started leaving a trail of kisses all over his chin, neck, and shoulder blades, stopping and kissing him all over the places where he has scars from battles with DIO. “I love your scars,” she said, “I love that you fought like a warrior when you didn’t have to. I love that they’re just for me to see and love on.” He was soaking up the attention and silently savoring it, expressing himself only through soft grunts. She moved on to his abs and chubby waist, kissing everywhere. “I don’t care what people think of the way you look, but like I told you, you’re the most handsome man for me.” She then slowly peeled the boxers off of him with his dick slapping against his abdomen, giving her room to spread his legs a bit more, kissed the V-line, and then gave one big lick from his balls to the tip, causing him to clench his fists hard in pleasure.

“Jojo, darling, did I ever tell you how much I love this cock so much?” She began savoring his shaft by wrapping her lips around its head, licking the tip, and tasting his pre-cum. She kept sucking hard, maintaining eye contact with him. He watched her, entranced, with his mouth slightly agape. She half-opened her lips and began to let him thrust into her mouth slowly. His girth and length filled her mouth; saliva slid down her chin, and tears lined her cheeks as she felt the tip of his cock push deep into her throat. He took a deep breath before pulling himself out of her wet mouth and slowly pushing himself back in. She bobbed her head back and forth as she grew accustomed to his length and became aware of how he preferred it. He grunts as she squeezed his balls in her hand and started to pump his long cock with the other, sucking on the tip greedily. “Ani—,” he grunted, “fuck, I don’t want to cum like this,” he rasped, pulling back and leaving her gasping for air.

He gazed at her expression and leaned over, roughly pressing his lips to hers. “You didn’t have to do that,” but then a soft smile appears on his face, “but this means I get to kiss you all over in return, so switch.” She turned and laid down with her head on the pillow, and she watched him climb on top of her. However, instead of kissing her lips first, he first kissed the scar on her forehead, the one that she earned when DIO hit her with one of her boomerangs in Cairo. She winced as he does so, making him place his hand on her cheek.

“I love this scar because it reminds me to never take you for granted—because of that day,” he said softly, his face pained. “I lost you once; never again.” As she was about to say something, he kissed her nose, where she got the scar when she was bullied in school. “I love this cute scar because it reminds me of how much you’ve grown, and I know you’re still working on it.” He continued to kiss all over her chin, neck, and shoulders, moving to her breasts, holding them, and kissing all over, gently so as to be careful. “You feed our child with these. They’re beautiful,” he whispers in her ear as he fondled one of her breasts and flicked her nipples playfully, even going far as to suckle and breastfeed on them. He then went to the waist to find stretch marks and another scar by DIO and kissed her all over. “If you say that I’m the most handsome, then you’re the most beautiful one, and you know how I’m bad at complimenting.” She chuckled again, responding, “Babe, you don’t have to—”

He stopped her from talking to see that she went commando, so her pussy was ready to be displayed in all its glory. “Anika, please allow me to take my time with you,” he purred reassuringly, running his hand down her inner thigh and cupping her pussy. Anika breathed tremulously as Jotaro fiddled with her sensitive clit with two of his fingers, causing her to whimper in pleasure. As he continued to pleasure her, she brought her face closer to him and kissed him passionately, moaning his name in between the kisses. She was so grateful that she had shaved herself down there.

She let out a string of quivering sighs as he slowly went down on her. As she started to murmur, “Jojo,” he licked a single wet stripe from bottom to top before sucking onto her folds, with his tongue thrusting into her core. She inhaled sharply as she held the end of the pillow with one hand, tugging her lips between her teeth to control the moans. As he used his fingers to reach the G-spot, curling them inside, she immediately moaned and grunted, with him covering her mouth with his free hand, reminding her that Jovita is still asleep. She nodded, while her other hand raked through his jet-black locks and presses his head closer between her legs.

She moaned in between moments of euphoria as he spread her folds and relished her like something that he’d been craving. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he grabs hold of her plush thighs to steady her as he keeps thrusting his tongue into her, causing the coil to keep building in her as her back arched and her toes curled. “Pl-Please don’t stop, sweetie, let me cum,” she purred while pressing his face between her thighs harder.

He smirked and licked one final stripe from bottom to top, his compliments on how perfect she is sending her into a frenzy. As he towered over her again, she brought him closer to her and kissed him while he steadied himself and stroked his hardened length before her. With her core muscles now gaining strength thanks to the pelvic floor exercises she did, Anika was nervous as to how he would fit it in her, her gaze now falling on the tip that glistens with his essence. Jotaro smiles and notices her lips quivering, and exhales deeply out of sheer nervousness, furrowing his eyebrows. He approaches her, pressing his tummy against hers and intertwining his fingers with her own. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not able to. I don’t want to hurt you.” Jotaro leans towards her closely and asks out of concern.

Anika knows that it’s been a while since they’ve had sex, and they are now working on their relationship with the last half year riddled with major communication issues. She’s certain that she needed this for their sake, for their relationship to grow. Thankfully, she felt okay, but she’s not sure how she’ll feel later. Nevertheless, while caressing his cheek with her knuckles, she experienced butterflies fluttering in her stomach all over again. She smiled at him, replying softly, “I’ve never been more sure, darling.”

Jotaro smiled wickedly, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, “I'm going to enter you slowly, okay?” while leaving open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder and sucking on it. He aligned his hardened member with her entrance, looking for a sign from her while she nodded. He teased her entrance slowly, sliding up and down, watching her bite her lower lip as it began to throb down there. He pushed in slowly, with the tip stretching her out, causing her to moan his name and writhe in pain as it stings her a bit.

“I’m here; breathe deeply for me,” he urged, as he moved his fingers along her clit to help her relax. She pleaded and mewled, “Darling, ‘s too big, pl’ don’t tease me. ‘Wan it all,” wrapping her legs around him and arching back, the pain turning into pleasure as he went deeper before eventually bottoming out, with her throwing her head back moaning loudly in response. He covered her mouth again, this time looking in the direction of Jovita’s room, hoping she hasn’t woken up. They maintained eye contact as his hands pushed into her hip, thrusting in and out of her slowly. He didn’t want to increase the pace right now because all that mattered is that he wanted to enjoy his partner.

He gazed into her ebony eyes again and is immediately brought back to when he met her in Calcutta for the first time, when he fell in love with her in Karachi, when he kissed her in Cairo and saw her “die” before him, when they reunited and first made love in Morioh, when they got married in Calcutta amidst family drama, and finally, when Jovita was born. A stray tear streamed down his cheek as he kept thrusting in and out, slowly. Anika wipes it off him, and placed her hand on his cheek, softly calling out “shona” to break him out of his reverie. “Anika,” he responded as he shook his head, “I don’t tell you this often, but...” His cheeks reddened when he whispered, “I love you.” Bringing his forehead closer to hers, she responded with a smile, “Oh, my husband, I love you too. Please don’t hide what you’re thinking. Tell me.” He stopped, and responded with a heavy sigh, “I had our entire relationship flash before our eyes. I have a request, Anika. Please don’t ever risk your life like that again. It…it scares me, and I can’t do without—” Anika covered his mouth with her hand, responding with her eyes welling up, “Oh god, no. I don’t ever want to worry you or Jovita again. I won’t be able to do without you either…”

With him smiling, he gestured to continue. As she nodded, he increased the pace as his hands traveled to hers, intertwining fingers and pressing his forehead against hers. “Is this okay, wife?” Jotaro asked nervously, causing Anika to tilt her head a bit so that she could kiss him, and she responded by moaning and gasping softly, “Yes, baby, ‘eels amazing. ‘love you. ‘ease, don’t stop,” while scratching her nails on his back. He groaned and paced all the more, sucking on the nipples, before eventually hitting the cervix. He never realized how those three words sent him into a frenzy. She curled her toes, while he kissed her, muffling her moans as he keeps going. All kinds of sensual sounds reverberated in the air, and the smell of sex permeated around them. Too intoxicated in each other’s presence, he explored the upper part of her with his lips, kissing all over her neck, sucking in on some places, lightly marking her, and kissing every inch of her body..

He continued to sink into her as sloppy kisses were exchanged, eventually leading both of them to reach their high. Anika breathily cried his name out as he slowed down his thrusts lazily. “I’m on the pill, so it’s okay. Please give it all to me,” she pleaded while he circled her overstimulated bud with his thumb. With a final thrust, their gasps reached a crescendo as they found their releases together, her inner walls hugging him tightly and creaming him, allowing him to fill her up.

As he pulled out slowly and gently, he noticed her whimpering in pain, her inner walls clenching in nothingness. Worried, he rushed to the bathroom, started filling the tub with water, and rushed back to the bedroom to carry Anika, much to her chagrin. “Jotaro, you shouldn’t have done that—” he shushed her, and took her to the tub, gently placing her in the water. He locked the bathroom, joined her, lathered shower gel on the loofah and bathed her. Anika then snatched the loofah from him, and says, “Shona, please, let me do this for you.” She started bathing him, much to his dismay, but he didn’t want to fight. Jotaro sighed, and allowed her to bathe him. “Let me take care of you, please,” she whispered, “Valentine’s Day is near, and you’ve been doing this for a while, on top of working to provide for us.” He smiles at her softly, “Okay. But, I get to do this on Valentine’s Day,” causing her to chuckle. “Yes, yes, I will allow you to spoil me then. But for now, it’s my turn.”

He smiled, and responded, “Thank you, once again, for making me feel special, Ani-chan,” to which she smiled, “Dr. Kujo, it’s an honor to make you feel loved, birthday boy.”

Tagging: @magthemage @mapesandoval @jellyluchi @amberswords @theschneckenhouse @spookysinner45 @weeb-coffee @wishful-bear @shaylistic @bizarrebankai @strawberrystepmom @cherrykamado @aeons-domain @sweet2tangy @angelminci

Tagging: @magthemage @mapesandoval @jellyluchi @amberswords @theschneckenhouse @spookysinner45 @weeb-coffee @wishful-bear @shaylistic @bizarrebankai @strawberrystepmom @cherrykamado @aeons-domain

#🌹celebrate love collab #we sinfully yearn #anika sen smut #jotaro kujo smut #⭐jotanika🥊#anika sen #jojo oc #jjba smut #jotaro kujo

28 notes · View notes

fantasy-so-far · 2 years

Text

Day 2 - Bolt

To avoid becoming a nuisance for the Graveyard Company, one that was always lurking and watching, Alice found time to slip away and spend some of the money she had squirreled away. Outside of her uniform, the clothing she wore was ill-fitting and ill-gotten, so she was treating herself to a few tailored pieces from a local shop.

A shop recommended by Tristan.

She ran a finger delicately over the offered bolt of cotton and hummed softly while she waited for Olivier to return. The dark-haired elezen was always happy to serve tea when Alice visited and often brought out sweets, even if the younger woman didn’t imbibe such things. She liked the aesthetic of sweets, the way a cookie or cake looked inviting and fun, but sugar was overwhelming to her senses, and she found it very difficult to control herself if she ate them.

“Alright, darling,” Olivier announced as she returned, interrupting Alice’s thoughts. “I had some black tea with spices in it that is good for the changing weather, I think.”

She laughed a bit since the seasons weren’t especially distinct in Ishgard but cut her humor short as she offered a chipped teacup and saucer to Alice, who studied them curiously. Olivier carried herself like a noble, but on all occasions that Alice had joined her for tea, it had been served in chipped, mismatched vessels. Before she could even consider if her question was appropriate, Olivier answered it.

“I am fond of ‘unloved things,” she tittered. “Chipped teacups and cracked planters are favorite, but I also love spiders and stockings with runs in them.”

“Unloved things?” Alice voiced curiously. “They can’t be called that if you love them, though, can they?”

“No. I suppose it is a misnomer. I just find charm in things that are seen as imperfect. I think it helps me cope with people.”

Alice was a darkly astute watcher of people, so the words that Olivier chose stuck with her and added to the eccentric impression that was already growing.

“You don’t seem imperfect, though,” Alice prodded. “Your hair, makeup, dress, and language usage, both body and verbal, seems so intentional and perfected. How do you situate yourself among the imperfect?”

The probing question brought pause in Olivier. She was not accustomed to someone challenging her façade so boldly. She took her time to consider her answer, sipping her tea and nibbling on a shortbread cookie as she thought about it.

“I suppose I face my own imperfections more often than others, so I would situate myself among the cracked pottery and porcelain, even if I try to present myself as polished. I am comforted by the similarities.”

She paused but decided she didn’t want Alice digging any deeper. Olivier quickly gestured to the nearby bolt.

“You like teal, yes?” She asked.

Alice nodded without hesitation. “I do. I like blue and green, and teal is like the child of both.”

“I have some stockings in teal that are on the verge of going out of season if you would like. We are entering the time of year when warm colors are in vogue. Reds and the like.”

Alice shifted and took a long drink from her tea before nodding.

“I don’t really care for red anymore,” she admitted. “I think I shall wear cool, wintery colors all year. Maybe some yellows if I really must blend in.”

Olivier smiled and nodded, happy to just be off the subject she had so foolishly brought up. “Well then, let’s talk about what piece you would like next?” She urged.

Alice was happy to oblige and instantly produced a list of things she had in mind. The conversation would remain polite and topical, but both women were no watching the other with shrewd interest.

Master Post || Prompt Source || Challenge Carrd

#FFxivWrite 2022 #FFxivWrite #Maddie #aka Alice #alt: Olivier A'court

7 notes · View notes

clutchingatclouds · 1 year

Text

"My sweet little whorish Nora... You had an arse full of farts that night, darling... big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole... I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also. Goodnight, my little farting Nora, my dirty little f*ckbird!"

Source:

#i heard about this letter today and it absolutely killed me #such a love of farts #something my partner would never say #poor lad is woken up by a one clap most days #personal #james joyce #nora barnacle

1 note · View note

hhawks · 3 years

Note

shiggy thoughts now please

im feeling kinda terrible today so i’m gonna hijack this with my own selfish desires. i think shiggy would love you unconditionally. he’s the kinda guy who once he sets his heart on something he’s gonna want it for life and that applies to you. he’s gonna show you how much he loves you and how pretty he thinks you are all of the time. reminds you you’re his baby, his girl forever and as long as you’ll have him (as long as you live bc you’re never getting away from this man if he wants you) he’s gonna show you. starts by kissing your fingers, then your palms, the parts of you that hold him lovingly. he wishes you would love yourself the way you love him, the way you love other people. he kisses your wrists and your elbows and your shoulders, helping you get rid of your shirt in the process. tells you again and again how pretty you are, murmuring it like stars on your skin, his lips dusting softly against you. doesn’t stop when you whine about how you wish he’d stop paying attention to the uglier parts of you. “because those parts are still you,” he tells u. “and i love them all the same.”

slowly he’s getting rid of your clothes, dusting light kisses along your collarbones, your tits, your tummy and i’ve said this before i’ll say it again he loves your tummy. loves how it rolls when he presses your legs to your chest, feet by your ears. he loves how he can dig his fingers into it and bruise you so easily, marking whats his and where he’s been. he kisses your hips, your plush thighs, your puffy cunt, swollen and drooling for him already. god he loves you, loves your body, loves the way you’re smiling so gently at him with your fingers in his hair. you cup his cheek and he softens into you, coming back up to kiss your lips, to press his forehead to yours.

tells you he loves you the whole time he’s fucking you. he’s usually fast, rough, gripping you harshly and slamming his hips into yours but today he’s just. sweet. worshipping you like a god at an altar. he’s holding you like he won’t let go (n he won’t. never will) and he’s just. so in love with you. makes you look at him while he makes you cum, cause “i wanna see you, wanna see how much you love me too,” and when he cums you wrap your legs around him, keeping him still, keeping him inside you. you want all he gives you, and he wants to give you the world. wants to tug the moon down and serve it to you on a silver platter. he’d kill anyone and anything for you. he’d trade his whole life to stay by your side. fuck power, fuck money. you’re his god, you’re his everything.

#can u tell when i feel like shit i go into body worship mode LOL #shigaraki mha #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki mha #tomura shigaraki smut #shiggy baby <3 #hera loves tenko #room service 🍽#darlings: crack-squirrels

286 notes · View notes

angelatsumu · 2 years

Note

i’m not gonna ask u to talk about kyoutani bc that’s our special little au BUT you should totally talk about firefighter!kuroo bc i think he’d be a total shithead <3

my beloved luna i love you !!! <33

Firefighter!Kuroo is an absolute menace and i hate his dorky ass. He's the type to be a rescue!guy! Rescues are pretty close to squads and they are the apparatus that have the most specialty to them, so water rescues, heavy machine rescues, complex and long fire scenes, stuff where specialties are really at play.

Rescue!Kuroo is the most outwardly cocky person on his shift, and the only thing that makes it excusable is that he really knows his way around a complex technical rescue. He'll let the compliment go to his dorky little head, though. Don't feed his ego.

Rescue!Kuroo is the most menacing at his station because he will literally never stop being a squirrel (someone who's call seeking, always looking to go to the cool calls). His captain is constantly reminding him to relax and shut the fuck up about how "it doesn't take brute to save a life, it takes brains" like literally no one cares.

Rescue!Kuroo gets the most upset when someone says "cancel the squad" as a joke because he feels entitled to the same awesome glory the engine guys and truckie guys get (little does he know, truckies are also smart)

Rescue!Kuroo's specialty is vehicle rescue on commercial vehicles like buses. He initally got into it as a joke mostly, saying it would be hilarious to take a class he'd seldom used, but now he simply will never stop talking to his spouse about how complex and dangerous bus extrications are.

Rescue!Kuroo once got so upset about being cancelled on a call that he filled every single truckie's fire boots with DumDum lollipops in the middle of the night so that when they needed to put them on, all they felt was lollipops; he was written up for this haha

Rescue!Kuroo sends you wholesome selfies of him doing cool squad shit throughout the day, knowing you'll smile to yourself at the sweet pictures before bed.

Rescue!Kuroo loves to explain to you his silly little rescue knowledge. What he loves more than doing that is explaining it to you while he's got his middle finger and ring finger knuckles deep inside you. He never loses eye contact with you as he curls them against your sweet spot, shit-eating grin when he feels you clenching around him at his cocky attitude. "Have ya even been listenin', pretty baby?" you nod sheepishly, whimpering getting louder as you reach your high. "oh yeah, then tell me all about what Rescue 42s do," he teases, and if you can't answer his questions he's ruining your orgasm. Needless to say, you've been trained to pickup on key phrases while he's making you come undone.

Rescue!Kuroo likes for you to cockwarm him while he practices his knots and goes over his training modules. It starts off innocent, him just enjoying the warmth of your cunt around his semi-hard cock. Then, being the brat you are, you're slyly grinding your hips against him until he chokes out a groan. He harshly thrusts up into you as a warning, but when you take no heed, he has you bent over his desk, cock bullying into your dripping heat as you grip the edge for dear life. "Such a distracting little slut, aren't you," he chuckles, hand cracking down on your ass hard enough to leave a handprint in its wake.

Rescue!Kuroo is an exhibitionist. There's nothing in the world he enjoys more than making you wear a bluetooth vibrator to his annual Department Christmas Party. As you make your rounds with hims, you'd grip his bicep for dear life as the low-level vibrations rippled through you. Your slick pooled in your pants with every flick of his thumb on the remote, and his cock twitched against the tightness of his pants. Every time a male coworker enveloped you into conversation, he'd dial up the vibrations enough to have you stuttering through your sentences, clinging to him as if you might faint. "careful darling, we still have a few hours to go," he'd remind you teasingly. As the male coworker stepped away (and he could tell you were on the edge of release), the vibrations would decrease in intensity, ruining whatever bliss you'd mustered. When he's finished toying with you, he's ushering you to the bathroom to bend you over the sink, forcing you to fuck yourself on his cock as he toyed skillfully with your clit. When your walls finally squeezed and creamed around him, he rewarded you with his warm cum, fucking it back into you until you bucked against him in overstimulation.

#oof this was rough #mac mail <3 #luna <3 #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #hq headcannons #hq au #hq headcanons #hq smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut #hq drabbles #firefighter!hq #firefighter au

337 notes · View notes

sie-rui · 3 years

Note

Hi! I hope all is well for you.

I saw that the applications were open and this idea just crossed over for now.

So what if the guys have a darling with FATAL luck, but really bad luck. As if one day they were just playing with the boys and some squirrels will steal their lunch, only to find that all their spare money had disappeared; or another day she will meet them with a broken arm and mention that she fell down the stairs when a sheet of paper clouded her vision; Or maybe the ceiling fan (which looked bad enough to tell the truth) fell onto his desk in an event everyone knew was going to happen at any moment.

So, it's not that she's clueless or something like that, it's that these things just happen, and it's not like her luck is the "final destination" type, it just makes her have a very bad time.

Ah! And it is that she is so used to this that she does not even complain, as if she mentioned everything that happened naturally, as an everyday thing, as a "it seems a joke but it is an anecdote".

Would she be okay with Mikey, Angry and Baji?

Sorry if some sentences seem inconsistent, it's just that I had to use Google to translate this text into English.

❀ LUCK BUGGY | TOKYO REVENGERS 🤍 sano manjiro, kawata souya, baji keisuke 💿 gender neutral, second pov (you/your), crack, fluff, established relationship, au - everyone lives / nobody dies, timeline: highschool, imagine 📅 july 11, 2021 🔗 masterlist

they don't know why you, their dearest lover, have suck questionable luck. they've had enough.

. . . SANO MANJIRO

“Happy birthday Manjiro!” You greet, a sheepish smile on your face. “Sorry, I made you a box of dorayaki but the squirrels got them on my way here…”

Mikey blinks and even Shinichiro pauses at your words. Emma drops the glass that she was holding only for Izana to barely catch it with a small yelp and a curse. “Sorry Y/n, but can you repeat that? Squirrels?”

“Yup!” You grin, unknowing. “A Japanese squirrel.”

This is goddamn Tokyo.

Japanese squirrels are arboreal, they live in trees and are only usually found in quiet woodlands in the countryside of Japan. Again, this is Tokyo. The Tokyo with buildings and buildings and even more buildings with only a few parks. Yoyogi was the only one near the Sano household and last Shinichiro checked, there were only stray Machida squirrels and those were rare.

Why?

He heard of your bad luck before but this is a bit... too much.

Shinichiro gives Mikey a fleeting desperate look only to see that his younger brother was in no better condition. “Are you mad?” You shyly ask, looking down. “I’ll make you even more dorayakis next time… But ah! I lost my wallet recently, I was pretty sure it was in my bag but it wasn’t there when I looked for it...”

Manjirou grins, grabbing your shoulders. “Nah, it’s fine, you don’t have to make me any more. I’m just happy that you’re here!” The bright smile that you gave him was adorable that he almost feels guilty doing what he’s about to do- almost. “But!”

Mikey reaches behind Izana and the older male barely refrains himself from kicking Mikey to the next universe for getting inside his personal space—Emma was holding onto his arm.

“What’s that?” You curiously ask, trying to see what he had gotten.

Manjirou pours the salt all over you.

“Mikey!” Emma shrieks and this time, Izana smacks him over his head. “Why’d you do that to Y/n?!”

You were pulled away by Shinichiro who hurriedly tried to pat the salt out of your hair. Manjirou shrugs, pushing Izana away before he could do even more damage, on his birthday nonetheless! “Y/n, darling, I love you but we have to get rid of your bad luck somehow.”

“Mikey, you dumbass!” Emma shakes him by his shoulders and for one short second, you think she’s defending you. “You’re supposed to throw it over the left shoulder, not all over them! Y/n’s bad luck is going to worsen now!”

Shinichiro pats your shoulder as Izana reaches for another container of salt. “Let’s do it again,” Izana gives Mikey a pointed look. “In the right way this time.”

Needless to say, Mikey’s birthday was spent trying out different ways to try and get rid of your bad luck.

. . . KAWATA SOUYA

Souya knocks at your front door, worried since you didn’t come to school today. Don’t tell him that your shitty luck acted up again and got you in another one of those unfortunate situations that you just laugh about as if it didn’t bother you…

You open the door and Souya’s eyes almost bulge out at the small bruise on your cheek. “Y/n,” he whispers, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead as you invite him in. “What happened?”

You pause while leading him to the living room. Souya gestures to your bruised cheek and you gasp, smiling. “Oh, this? I fell down from the stairs.”

Souya’s going to die early.

“What? Are there any other injuries?” He asks but he’s already checking your whole body, holding your arm to make sure that there’s nothing broken.

You only laugh at him and Souya wants to bash his head on the floor at how easy you’re taking this. You fell off the stairs? How in the world is that something to laugh about?? “You don’t have to worry about me, Souya. Some students were behind me so they kind of… saved me from falling?”

He feels a headache coming. “Y/n… What happened?”

You awkwardly smile, plopping down on the couch while rubbing the back of your head. “So I’m kind of… suspended?”

“Y/n.”

“I swear I was only climbing up the stairs! Then somehow this sheet of paper came flying out of nowhere and I slipped and there was a student behind me. He lost his balance as well and fell on the student behind him, and then that student behind him fell to another student, then that student- You get the gist of it.” Souya opens his mouth to comment but you’ve already beaten him to it.

“Point is, they all got broken bones while I got away with a bruise on the cheek and a suspension along with a promise to not go up the stairs without the watchful eyes of someone.!”

Was this what the ruckus yesterday was about?? Souya sighs, genuinely unsure of what to feel. “What the fuck, Y/n?”

“Uhh, sorry…?”

Souya only pulls out something from his pocket before handing it to you. It’s quite terrifying how he’s not surprised anymore. He can still distinctly remember the first time your bad luck struck and how freaked out he was, ready to call an ambulance because you fell into a hole. And now, he’s taking this like an unbothered champ.

He reaches out as you freeze over, clasping the necklace on your nape. “I was supposed to give you this earlier but here.”

You look down, eyes wide and twinkling at the rose quartz pendant. “B-But, Souya, this is expensive!”

He only presses another kiss to your other cheek. “It’s nothing Y/n. Consider it as a late birthday gift.” He silently hopes that he didn’t read wrong and jewels actually do get rid of bad luck because Souya thinks that he can’t afford to get another aneurysm.

. . . BAJI KEISUKE

Sometimes, Baji wonders if you failed to respond to a chain letter sometime in your life. That would explain a lot as to why you kept on getting into these kinds of situations. If not a chain letter, maybe you broke a mirror when you were younger?

Today was supposed to be your date. It was Baji’s idea, something he brought up weeks ago. The two of you were busy studying for finals so it was postponed until after the test. Something like a celebration.

He knew that you were looking forward to it. He was as well!

So when you called him to cancel, Baji had his suspicions. Not only were you looking forward to it but you never cancelled nor stood up on him. Hell, there was that one time you met up with him with a fever that suspiciously appeared out of nowhere after it rained even though you never left your house.

“Is everything alright, Y/n?” He asks over the phone, already slipping on his hoodie. He’s asking but he already knows that this has something to do with your fatal luck.

“Yup. I’m just in the hospital.”

“What.”

Baji’s about to have a heart attack. He’s about to drop down right then and there. Why the fuck is your arm on a cast and head bandaged? How in the world did a ceiling fan come flying on you when you were walking home?!?

Baji could still accept it if you got hit by a car or a motorcycle but a ceiling fan? A goddamn ceiling fan? Flying on the road??

The last time something as incredulous as this happened was when a metal water bowl fell on your head when you were walking by the neighborhood. It happened right as Baji caught a glimpse of you. It was weird as hell and he will forever be scarred.

“Keisuke, calm down, this is nothing.”

Your hand is in a cast from falling to the asphalt to avoid getting cut in half. Your head was bandaged after getting a small but deep cut. What the fuck do you mean this is nothing?!

“Y/n, I really think that I should start locking you in a room filled with pillows and feathers,” he tries to say calmly, sitting down on the chair beside your bed as you lean on the uncomfortably sturdy headboard.

You only shrug. “At least it wasn’t a stray train this time.”

“A what?”

You had the audacity to look surprised. “I think I was nine then… We met in middle school so of course you wouldn’t know.”

Baji’s going to lock you up in a tower and keep you all to himself. Not so that people can’t see you but so that people can see you—alive, that is.

998 notes · View notes

bunny-rambles · 2 years

Note

headcannons of kaeya and xiao (separate) with readers who loves to stuff their mouth with food, to the point where reader reminded them of a chipmunk because even when their mouth is full they're still stuffing food in 😭

— i love your writing, you honestly deserved more recognition !

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Hello anon! Aha, I have to admit, idothisquiteoften… I already have chubby cheeks so it doesn’t help me not looking like a squirrel , But, a cute lil idea. And ahhh, I’m really happy you’re enjoying it! Thank you very much for your kind words (о´∀`о)

CW/TW: None, pure fluff, but a little short.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

KAEYA:

It’s probably not your first date, but it is the first time Kaeya has taken you out for a meal

So he has yet to see how you shovel food in your mouth yet.

While he’s trying to make small talk, he nurses on a glass of red wine, a flirtatious gaze being sent your way, but it quickly falters once he sees what you’re doing

You look at him with wide, innocent eyes, cheeks filled to the brim with food, and you’re still managing to stuff more in?

If you thought he would save face, I don’t think he would.

He tries, he really tries, but it takes barely half a minute for him to crack

He can’t help but snort quietly before laughing heartily at you, covering his mouth with his free hand that wasn’t holding his glass.

“Oh my, someone’s enjoying themselves…” He teases once he calms down, earning a few whines from you.

He finds it very adorable, don’t worry. But he also finds it equally hilarious.

“It’s not like the food is going to run away, darling!”

XIAO:

Oh boy

Whereas Kaeya finds this hilarious, Xiao is just perplexed about it

You had been asking for quite a while for the adeptus to make his famous Almond Tofu.

“It’s no different from Smiley Yanxiao’s… Why do you want me specifically to make it?”

Poor guys clueless

But, it’s not like he could ever say no to you especially when you give him puppy eyes, he’s a sucker for those, so of course he made some for you.

Your eyes lit up, as well as your entire face, and he couldn’t lie… It made him feel happy to see such a reaction from you because of something he made.

He looked down to his own bowl, taking a spoonful for himself before looking back at you.

It was barely 10 seconds, how the hell do you have so much in your mouth?

Think of a confused puppy. Yeah that’s Xiao

Will straight up ask if you’re storing for the winter

“You… Really are a strange mortal.” He finds it adorable don’t listen to him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Extra notes: sorry it’s shorter, but you requested headcannons and not scenarios, I’m not too great with headcannons? but I hope you liked it anyway.

#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x reader

169 notes · View notes

inber · 4 years

Text

A/N: Thank you for the prompt, anon! I love Geralt Tryin' His Best TM. Woke up with a fucker of a headache today so I hope this is alright!!

“New pants.”

Jaskier looks up from his jig, squirrel-startled, pausing his hop about the campsite in an effort to shimmy the material up over his backside. “Oh! Yes, they are. Aren’t you just a sweetheart for noticing? What do you think?”

They’re wheat-field golden, made of silky, impractical fabric that clutches co-dependently to Jaskier’s thighs. The colour reminds Geralt of a pat of freshly churned butter, soft and pale; a shaft of morning summer sun to doze in, lazy belly comforted with bread and ale. He likes them very much.

“Yellow.” Is what his traitor tongue allows. “Yellow pants.”

Jaskier makes a miffed sort of sniff, tying the laces neatly at the front. “Boo to you, I say. I think they’re fresh. There’s no accounting for taste with you, that's what I think – you’d sooner cut Roach’s tail off than deign to wear a nice colour. Melitele forbid!”

Geralt’s brain focuses on the mental conundrum of a tail-less Roach, the veiled insult draining between the cracks of his cerebrum. He frowns.

“I jest, darling. Come over here and tie up the back, would you? You have the most clever fingers, you know. Your bows are better than mine.”

The flattery is genuine but feels undeserved. Regardless, Geralt bumbles over to assist his friend, carefully not thinking about the seam that runs tight between the bard’s buttocks. He concentrates on the ribbon. Jaskier helpfully stands still.

“I’d wear a nice colour.” Geralt mutters. “For Roach. If her tail was in danger.”

Jaskier’s expression softens in a way Geralt doesn’t understand. “Oh, Geralt. I know, dearest. I know.”

--------------

New supplies are a mixed blessing. It means weeks of better food, ingredients to prepare elixirs, and material to repair damaged clothing. It also means extra weight on Roach and on both Jaskier and Geralt’s shoulders.

Jaskier is a far cry from the simpleton scrap of a minstrel he once met in Posada. This realisation takes Geralt utterly by surprise as he watches Jaskier heft a full bag without so much as a grunt, the corded muscle of his biceps flexing. Time slips past so quickly; he often forgets that Jaskier is a man in his prime, somewhere approaching thirty years old.

He means to say as much. He means to thank his companion for carrying his share without complaint. Instead, he utters, “You’ve gotten big.”

Jaskier rounds on him, brows furrowed. “Excuse me? I’m perfectly trim and healthy, I’ll have you know. Sure, alright, perhaps I indulged a little over winter, but as you’ll remember it was terribly cold this year, and what else is there to do at court in such miserable conditions? Really, Geralt!"

Geralt’s teeth are pinched together, safeguarding an apology he should speak. His mouth feels frozen, stubborn and uncooperative with his thoughts. He’s not good at this, not the way Jaskier is. How jealous he feels when the bard drips sweetly with sentiments, honey-thick and easy, spreading Geralt sticky with his casual compliments.

“You’re not just big in the middle.” He blurts, “You’re big in the arms.”

Strong, robust. Geralt wonders if Jaskier could pick him up off the ground, and the simple thought makes him stupid. As Jaskier puffs up like a wooing pigeon, Geralt’s cheeks blaze.

“In the—Geralt! It’s my doublet, you horrid man. These sleeves are all the rage right now.” Jaskier turns on his heels, prickly, and Geralt deflates. “Big, he says! As if he didn’t just eat an entire chicken last night for supper. Gods above, the nonsense I put up with. How do you handle it, sweet Roach?”

Roach, the absolute traitor, nudges Jaskier affectionately. She whuffs out a warm breath, glancing at Geralt behind her. He knows she’s right, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

Childishly, he makes a face at her.

--------------

The inn is bursting full of drunkards and noise, and Geralt is shoe-horned into a corner, wishing he was anywhere else on the continent. He’s jostled and prodded as the crowd moves around him. Sullenly, he tips back the remainder of his ale.

It’s decent. Jaskier bought it, demanding and haughty when the keeper tried to sell them something watered-down. He’s always looking out for Geralt like that.

The merry-makers sing in clumsy chorus along with the bard as he performs. Geralt wants to hear Jaskier’s voice, but it’s hard to concentrate in the din. He stays vigilant instead, watching as Jaskier strums and trills and sweats, whipping the crowd frenzied, dividing them from their coin with practiced ease.

When there’s applause, Jaskier takes a humble bow, and blows flirty kisses to his fans. “How wonderful you all are, my friends! Thank you! Alas, I must rest my voice and slake my thirst. I wish you a good evening!”

As he hops neatly off the stage, guarding his lute, he pauses at the bar to pick up more drink. Geralt can’t help but relax at the prospect of his company close-by again. Jaskier acts as a buffer between him and the world, filtering out curious questions and ridiculous requests.

“Well?” Jaskier asks, plonking the tankards down, “What did you think?”

It’s a question often posed. Geralt usually grunts, because he’s terrified he’ll say the wrong thing. But tonight Jaskier’s glacial blue eyes are glittering, and his expression is so open and eager that Geralt speaks, forgetting to analyse his words first.

“Couldn’t hear you,” He complains, “too loud in here. Nobody else can sing.”

Jaskier’s lips part. He’s flushed from performing, giddy with adrenaline. “Pardon?”

“I like that song, and I couldn’t hear you.” Geralt says, frustration creasing his brow.

“You...” Jaskier parrots, fingers flexing on the table. Close to Geralt’s hands. Almost a touch. “You wanted to hear me?”

Geralt has said the wrong thing, again. He hunches his shoulders up, grabs his ale, and hopes to divert Jaskier’s fierce attention. No such luck. The bard is regarding him with studious silence.

“Yes.” Geralt admits, ever-truthful. He doesn’t know how to cajole and flatter. He wants to say something flowery and kind and make Jaskier squirm in his seat. Such trickery evades him. “I like when you do the... warble bit. At the end.” A word the bard has used before pops into his mind. “Vi-vibrato.”

“Oh.” Jaskier says, so softly that Geralt only sees the formation of his lips. “Oh, Geralt.”

“Too loud in here.” Geralt iterates, again. “Couldn’t... couldn’t hear the warble bit.”

Jaskier grins at him. It’s like a rush of clean water, a cool quench for a desert-bound wastrel. Geralt is thirsty for it. “Want to go somewhere quieter?”

Geralt does. But Jaskier’s audience is here, adoring and generous. “What about your crowd?”

The bard waves a dismissive hand. “Crowds come and go, my darling witcher. If I had to choose between a thousand revellers shoulder-to-shoulder in a venue, or a single song for you in a quaint forest clearing? Well.” Jaskier picks up his lute. “It’s no choice at all.”

His touch does brush against Geralt’s knuckles, then. It’s easy for Geralt to open his hand up and fold it over Jaskier’s, fingers laced in an affectionate squeeze. Geralt’s lips twitch into a smile.

“Can Roach listen, too?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier laughs, and laughs, and the sound tucks cosy into an empty place within Geralt.

#the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #prompt #fortune writes #inber

3K notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

Just In Case (Emily x Reader)

Request: Emily x reader where the reader is deployed in to the military and got permission to video call Emily while she is at camp and something happens to the base while on the call and it ends the call with no goodbye and then like the team seeing news articles and trying to get in contact with reader but they can’t and Emily eventually gets notified that’s she’s in the hospital

There was nothing quite like waiting for the little green dot to appear next to your Skype name. The way excitement mixed with anxiety and impatience. How your wife never knew exactly what state you would be in, only that you would greet her with a wide (probably exhausted) smile.

It was rare that Emily actually got to call you while you were deployed. You were the assigned medic to a forward operating special ops unit, meaning you spent more time in the middle of nowhere doing dangerous missions than you did on base. She was excited she’d get to see your smiling face after almost a month (a year since she’d actually seen you in person).

She jumped when the little dot appeared on the screen (much to Lindsey and Kelley’s enjoyment) and clicked on your little icon.

The screen blinked, and your wide smile greeted her. “Hey darling, how’s champ camp?” Your little southern twang came through the computer.

Emily mirrored your smile (your accent always made her swoon just a little), Turning the camera so you could see your two best friends also waving at you. “Super fun. Me and Linds beat Kelley during the scrimmage,”

You smirked at your wife, shaking your head. You knew how competitive they all were (it had led to some very fun game nights at your house- especially with your wife who adamantly refused to be competitive off the pitch). “Bet the squirrel loved that,”

Emily shrugged. “She’s not taking it so well,”

She again pointed the camera towards your pouting sister. You cracked a smile at the woman.

“I’ll get her next time, don’t worry,” Kelley winked at the screen.

You looked off to the side for a second, nodding to whoever was talking to you behind your computer.

Emily wasn’t upset, hell she was more than used to the two of you never really being alone (you were the team leader after all). Instead, she took the opportunity to take in your features. Every new wrinkle of your forehead or dark circle under your eye (that looked more like a bruise or black eye at this point). Was that a new scar you kept rubbing under your chin?

Emily shook her head. She didn’t even want to think about how you got that until you were back safe in her arms. Your job was dangerous, she didn’t need any reminders.

“How are you holding up?” She asked, drawing your attention back towards her. It was a safe question, one she knew she could ask over a live feed. One that didn’t cross any “clearance” lines you had warned her about (though she was sure that your superiors knew you told her many stories deemed classified over the years in the safety of your bedroom).

You shrugged, your crooked smile not quite meeting your eyes. “I’m alright. Super tired. We just got to base a little while ago,”

Your vague answer didn’t surprise her. You didn’t like to worry her, and half of your missions were pretty secretive anyway. It was one thing to share your darkest stories, the things you had seen that you couldn’t un-see, while the two of you were pressed together, and another to try and explain from a million miles away.

Your wife knew how your job weighed on you.

“But you’re ok?” She pressed, unwilling to let you deflect the question. She needed to know. You ran a hand through your tousled hair (one of your biggest tells), leaning forward just a bit. “Just some bruises. Promise.” You paused, leaning forward, your fake playful smile reappearing with a wiggle of your eyebrows, “What about you? Kelley’s a beast on the field,”

Emily cracked a smile, despite her worry. “I’m good babe, but Lindsey’s got a nice one,”

“Ooo let me see,” you said, leaning closer to the screen like a little kid. Emily turned the computer so you could harass Lindsey instead of her.

“No,” the midfielder pouted, crossing her arms.

“Come on, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” You wined dramatically as Emily turned the computer around and Kelley butted into the frame.

“That sounds like some teenage boy-...” She started, only to be cut off by a loud crash and the blaring of an alarm.

“Fuck,” you hissed, looking off-screen, as more yelling started, and the screen shook.

“Babe-“ Emily said, and you glanced back at the screen as if suddenly realizing your wife was still there.

“I love you Em. I’m sorry I gotta go,” you said quickly, looking directly in the camera.

Then the call ended. The screen went blank and the three women sat frozen. Emily very slowly placed her hand over where your face had been mere seconds ago. “Love you too, be safe,”

The “please,” was softer, almost breathless. And the sound broke Kelley and Lindsey’s hearts. All they could do was hope you would be alright.

****

Emily had learned to not read the news reports a long, long time ago, on your first deployment (back when the two of you had only been dating for six months).

As it turned out, most of the time they had no real information about what was going on. They just reported on the overarching bad thing that was happening, or whatever appeared to be happening, and tended to ignore the boots on the ground (your words not Emily’s).

But still, she couldn’t help but stare at the articles rolling in about an attack on one of the bases near where she knew you were stationed. Especially after the abrupt end to your semi-distracted phone call.

“Em, reading it repeatedly isn’t going to change the words,” Kelley said softly, prying the phone from her grasp and sticking it on the chair beside her.

Emily sighed heavily. “It’s just hard,” she mumbled, scrubbing a hand over her eyes.

Lindsey, Kelley, and the rest of the table nodded understandingly. They may not have the same relationship with you that Emily did, but they loved you all the same.

It was terrifying to not know where you were, or if you were alright, but they had to be strong for Emily right now.

“She didn’t answer your text yet?” Lindsey asked, reaching across the table to grasp Emily’s hand tightly. You might not be able to call, but texting was usually a good way to get a hold of you.

Emily bit her lip, shaking her head tightly. “Nah uh,”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go radio silent, especially when you were on a mission, but it had been 4 days since your phone call and You always sent her a little a-ok when you were finished with whatever you were doing. She was starting to get worried.

“What about Kara, she’s always with her,” Kelley asked gently, rubbing her back, mentioning your best friend.

The two of you were practically attached at the hip, but as you always said, experience in a war zone will do that go people. Kara was your right-hand man and always answered Emily, especially when you weren’t.

“She hasn’t answered either,” Emily mumbled, shaking her head. The women at the table all shared a look. The last time Kara hadn’t responded while the two of you were away, you had been stuck doing emergency surgery on one of your guys in the field after an IED blew up one of the hummers in your convoy.

“I’m sure they’re just busy. You know the news likes to make a big deal out of nothing. They always do,” Lindsey said reassuringly.

“Yeah, and no news is good news right?” Kelley added, with a half-smile.

A dark look crossed Emily’s features. She knew (and feared) what happened when things went wrong. She dreaded that phone call or god forbid an officer showing up with your “just in case” letter (one she knew you always carried with you, but she had never physically seen).

“Only until it isn’t,” she said softly, her voice deadly serious. The women at the table sobered and nodded, equally as somber. It was a terrifying truth that was easier to ignore than confront.

“I’m sure she’s just busy being a hero,” Lindsey said softly, leaning over to grab Emily’s hand tightly, as Kelley squeezed the woman comfortingly.

“I hope you’re right,” Emily sighed.

“She promised Em, and she never breaks her promises,” Kelley said, equally as serious, trying to hide just how worried she was. You swore you’d always come back to them, and she would kick your ass if you didn’t.

*****

It felt like Emily’s heart was going to beat out of her chest. It was hammering harder than it ever had, even after a full ninety. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the receptionist to find your room and clear her with the MP’s apparently stationed outside your room.

The second she got the 3 am call, it had been a mad dash to get here. The drive from Orlando to the hospital at the Jacksonville Air Force base was a blur, but she was pretty sure Kelley had broken just about every speed law there was to get her here faster (and to get herself here too, she was your sister after all).

“I’m her wife. I have permission to see her,” Emily growled at the poor receptionist, who continued to rapidly type on her computer.

“I’m sorry miss, but due to the circumstances I have to check,” She clicked her tongue, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen, apparently oblivious to Emily’s growing rage.

Kelley placed a careful hand on Emily’s arm, trying to quell the brewing storm before the receptionist took the brunt of it.

“Fuck the circumstances. Let me see my wife,” Emily hissed, completely ignoring Kelley’s “calm down Sonnett,” (your older sister was worried too, but flipping out at a receptionist wasn’t going to help their cause).

“I’m trying ma’am. We have protocols too, especially after a Rescue and Evacuation,” the woman behind the counter sighed, more frustrated than sympathetic. Emily’s eyes widened. Kara hadn’t said anything about a rescue mission over the phone, only that you were hurt and being transferred to Florida from a hospital in London.

“A what?!!” Emily screeched, and Kelley grabbed the back of her hoodie to prevent her from launching herself over the counter at the frightened-looking receptionist.

Before the woman behind the counter could respond, your very tired-looking best friend appeared around the corner.

“Hey, Em. She’s back this way,” Kara smiled tightly at your wife, nodding towards the receptionist and gesturing down a hallway to her left.

“Oh thank god,” Kelley sighed, practically shoving Emily into Kara’s arms. Kara caught her, and held her hand out to your older sister, carefully beginning to guide them down the maze of hallways.

“I have to warn you, she’s in pretty rough shape,” Kara said softly as they approached the door, her hand pausing on the handle to look both women in the eyes. Emily and Kelley both nodded solemnly, steeling themselves as Kara gently pushed the door open.

“Damn,” Emily and Kelley gasped as they stepped through the threshold and took in your sleeping form.

Your normally strong form looked so small under the mass of tubes and wires surrounding you (but Kelley notes that you were very much breathing on your own). The whole left side of your face was bruised, and the left half of your chest and arm was wrapped tightly in gauze.

Emily very carefully approached the bed, her fingers hovering over your right side, afraid to touch you and cause you more pain.

“Oh baby,” She breathed out, settling into the chair beside your bed, finally grabbing your uninsured hand very gently and pulling it to her lips.

She heard Kelley ask “What happened?”, but her eyes never left your face.

Kara blew out a long breath, seemingly trying to steady herself. “Our base got attacked- retaliation for freeing a village probably,”

Kelley raised her eyebrow at the woman. She wanted to know everything, not the edited version.

Kara swallowed hard before continuing. “We split into teams. One to pull security and one to evacuate the hospital. We lost communication after one of our own went Rogue. In the chaos, an intruder slipped through us and went to attack the hospital wing. Y/n got ambushed trying to get an injured private to the helicopter,”

Silence stretched between them as the soccer stars tried to take in the story. It was so you to do everything in your power to help someone else, even if it was dangerous or detrimental to you.

“How bad is it,” The words left Emily’s mouth barely above a whisper, muffled slightly by your hand still at her lips.

“She got hit 3 times. One was a through and through to the shoulder. It chipped her collar bone, but mostly just got some soft tissue. The other two were worse. The through and through in her leg nicked an artery, and the other one in her chest did some damage. Luckily she was able to drag herself back to the hospital wing and they could get her stable. The PJ’s got her to London and they did emergency surgery,” Kara listed off, rubbing the back of her neck and closing her eyes tightly.

Emily didn’t doubt that seeing you like that was probably one of the most difficult things Kara ever had to do, and she felt bad for making her relive that.

“Is she gonna be alright?” Kelley asked after a few seconds, cracking with emotion.

Kara nodded. “Yeah, Lena looked over the X-rays. Said that she would need a lot of rehab, but she should make a pretty full recovery. Right now she’s just sedated to help with the pain,”

Emily felt her heart unclench at the news, made even sweeter by the mention of Kara’s own wife. Lena was a straight shooter, someone who was brutally honest and equally deft at her job (which was part of the reason the two of you got on so well). She wouldn’t bullshit them and give them false hope.

“Thank you,” Emily croaked. Kara snorted and shook her head.

“Wasn’t me. She promised you she’d make it and she wasn’t about to let you down,”

You had dragged yourself nearly 800 yards to the hospital wing, and the only thing they said you said was that you couldn’t die because you swore to your wife you’d come home. Kara was convinced that you had survived purely on adrenaline and stubbornness (that and dumb luck). At least she hadn’t had to deliver your just in case letter.

Emily smiled softly at your sleeping form, allowing the steady beep of your heart and your warm hand to comfort her “I know,”

It was easy to relax now that you were here safe in her arms. Sure, you would have a long road to recovery (and getting you to actually follow the doctor's orders was bound to be a fight), but you were alive with no imminent threat hanging above your head.

She would be there for you every step of the way.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #emily sonnett imagine #emily sonnett x reader

353 notes · View notes