#I'm doing my part dot gif

[balamist]

DID YOU KNOW Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown, one of the best metroidvanias out there, is currently 50% off on Steam?

TLC is stylish as hell, has a top-tier soundtrack, and plays incredibly smoothly. And there are accessibility options! (literally won an award for those) Please give it a try ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

ps: the DLC is also top-tier.

UPD: SWITCH VERSION IS ON SALE AS WELL

[tofupixel]

⭐ So you want to learn pixel art? ⭐

🔹 Part 1 of ??? - The Basics!

Edit: Now available in Google Doc format if you don't have a Tumblr account 🥰

Hello, my name is Tofu and I'm a professional pixel artist. I have been supporting myself with freelance pixel art since 2020, when I was let go from my job during the pandemic.

My progress, from 2017 to 2024. IMO the only thing that really matters is time and effort, not some kind of natural talent for art.

This guide will not be comprehensive, as nobody should be expected to read allat. Instead I will lean heavily on my own experience, and share what worked for me, so take everything with a grain of salt. This is a guide, not a tutorial. Cheers!

🔹 Do I need money?

NO!!! Pixel art is one of the most accessible mediums out there.

I still use a mouse because I prefer it to a tablet! You won't be at any disadvantage here if you can't afford the best hardware or software.

Because our canvases are typically very small, you don't need a good PC to run a good brush engine or anything like that.

✨Did you know? One of the most skilled and beloved pixel artists uses MS PAINT! Wow!!

🔹 What software should I use?

Here are some of the most popular programs I see my friends and peers using. Stars show how much I recommend the software for beginners! ⭐

💰 Paid options:

⭐⭐⭐ Aseprite (for PC) - $19.99

This is what I and many other pixel artists use. You may find when applying to jobs that they require some knowledge of Aseprite. Since it has become so popular, companies like that you can swap raw files between artists.

Aseprite is amazingly customizable, with custom skins, scripts and extensions on Itch.io, both free and paid.

If you have ever used any art software before, it has most of the same features and should feel fairly familiar to use. It features a robust animation suite and a tilemap feature, which have saved me thousands of hours of labour in my work. The software is also being updated all the time, and the developers listen to the users. I really recommend Aseprite!

⭐ Photoshop (for PC) - Monthly $$

A decent option for those who already are used to the PS interface. Requires some setup to get it ready for pixel-perfect art, but there are plenty of tutorials for doing so.

Animation is also much more tedious on PS which you may want to consider before investing time!

⭐⭐ ProMotion NG (for PC) - $19.00

An advanced and powerful software which has many features Aseprite does not, including Colour Cycling and animated tiles.

⭐⭐⭐ Pixquare (for iOS) - $7.99 - $19.99 (30% off with code 'tofu'!!)

Probably the best app available for iPad users, in active development, with new features added all the time.

Look! My buddy Jon recommends it highly, and uses it often.

One cool thing about Pixquare is that it takes Aseprite raw files! Many of my friends use it to work on the same project, both in their office and on the go.

⭐ Procreate (for iOS) - $12.99

If you have access to Procreate already, it's a decent option to get used to doing pixel art. It does however require some setup. Artist Pixebo is famously using Procreate, and they have tutorials of their own if you want to learn.

⭐⭐ ReSprite iOS and Android. (free trial, but:) $19.99 premium or $$ monthly

ReSprite is VERY similar in terms of UI to Aseprite, so I can recommend it. They just launched their Android release!

🆓 Free options:

⭐⭐⭐ Libresprite (for PC)

Libresprite is an alternative to Aseprite. It is very, very similar, to the point where documentation for Aseprite will be helpful to Libresprite users.

⭐⭐ Pixilart (for PC and mobile)

A free in-browser app, and also a mobile app! It is tied to the website Pixilart, where artists upload and share their work. A good option for those also looking to get involved in a community.

⭐⭐ Dotpict (for mobile)

Dotpict is similar to Pixilart, with a mobile app tied to a website, but it's a Japanese service. Did you know that in Japanese, pixel art is called 'Dot Art'? Dotpict can be a great way to connect with a different community of pixel artists! They also have prompts and challenges often.

🔹 So I got my software, now what?

◽Nice! Now it's time for the basics of pixel art.

❗ WAIT ❗ Before this section, I want to add a little disclaimer. All of these rules/guidelines can be broken at will, and some 'no-nos' can look amazing when done intentionally.

The pixel-art fundamentals can be exceedingly helpful to new artists, who may feel lost or overwhelmed by choice. But if you feel they restrict you too harshly, don't force yourself! At the end of the day it's your art, and you shouldn't try to contort yourself into what people think a pixel artist 'should be'. What matters is your own artistic expression. 💕👍

◽Phew! With that out of the way...

🔸"The Rules"

There are few hard 'rules' of pixel art, mostly about scaling and exporting. Some of these things will frequently trip up newbies if they aren't aware, and are easy to overlook.

🔹Scaling method

There are a couple ways of scaling your art. The default in most art programs, and the entire internet, is Bi-linear scaling, which usually works out fine for most purposes. But as pixel artists, we need a different method.

Both are scaled up x10. See the difference?

On the left is scaled using Bilinear, and on the right is using Nearest-Neighbor. We love seeing those pixels stay crisp and clean, so we use nearest-neighbor. 

(Most pixel-art programs have nearest-neighbor enabled by default! So this may not apply to you, but it's important to know.)

🔹Mixels

Mixels are when there are different (mixed) pixel sizes in the same image.

Here I have scaled up my art- the left is 200%, and the right is 150%. Yuck!

As we can see, the "pixel" sizes end up different. We generally try to scale our work by multiples of 100 - 200%, 300% etc. rather than 150%. At larger scales however, the minute differences in pixel sizes are hardly noticeable!

Mixels are also sometimes seen when an artist scales up their work, then continues drawing on it with a 1 pixel brush.

Many would say that this is not great looking! This type of pixels can be indicative of a beginner artist. But there are plenty of creative pixel artists out there who mixels intentionally, making something modern and cool.

🔹Saving Your Files

We usually save our still images as .PNGs as they don’t create any JPEG artifacts or loss of quality. It's a little hard to see here, but there are some artifacts, and it looks a little blurry. It also makes the art very hard to work with if we are importing a JPEG.

For animations .GIF is good, but be careful of the 256 colour limit. Try to avoid using too many blending mode layers or gradients when working with animations. If you aren’t careful, your animation could flash afterwards, as the .GIF tries to reduce colours wherever it can. It doesn’t look great!

Here's an old piece from 2021 where I experienced .GIF lossiness, because I used gradients and transparency, resulting in way too many colours.

🔹Pixel Art Fundamentals - Techniques and Jargon

❗❗Confused about Jaggies? Anti-Aliasing? Banding? Dithering? THIS THREAD is for you❗❗ << it's a link, click it!!

As far as I'm concerned, this is THE tutorial of all time for understanding pixel art. These are techniques created and named by the community of people who actually put the list together, some of the best pixel artists alive currently. Please read it!!

🔸How To Learn

Okay, so you have your software, and you're all ready to start. But maybe you need some more guidance? Try these tutorials and resources! It can be helpful to work along with a tutorial until you build your confidence up.

⭐⭐ Pixel Logic (A Digital Book) - $10 A very comprehensive visual guide book by a very skilled and established artist in the industry. I own a copy myself.

⭐⭐⭐ StudioMiniBoss - free A collection of visual tutorials, by the artist that worked on Celeste! When starting out, if I got stuck, I would go and scour his tutorials and see how he did it.

⭐ Lospec Tutorials - free A very large collection of various tutorials from all over the internet. There is a lot to sift through here if you have the time.

⭐⭐⭐ Cyangmou's Tutorials - free (tipping optional) Cyangmou is one of the most respected and accomplished modern pixel artists, and he has amassed a HUGE collection of free and incredibly well-educated visual tutorials. He also hosts an educational stream every week on Twitch called 'pixelart for beginners'.

⭐⭐⭐ Youtube Tutorials - free There are hundreds, if not thousands of tutorials on YouTube, but it can be tricky to find the good ones. My personal recommendations are MortMort, Brandon, and AdamCYounis- these guys really know what they're talking about!

🔸 How to choose a canvas size

When looking at pixel art turorials, we may see people suggest things like 16x16, 32x32 and 64x64. These are standard sizes for pixel art games with tiles. However, if you're just making a drawing, you don't necessarily need to use a standard canvas size like that.

What I like to think about when choosing a canvas size for my illustrations is 'what features do I think it is important to represent?' And make my canvas as small as possible, while still leaving room for my most important elements.

Imagine I have characters in a scene like this:

I made my canvas as small as possible (232 x 314), but just big enough to represent the features and have them be recognizable (it's Good Omens fanart 😤)!! If I had made it any bigger, I would be working on it for ever, due to how much more foliage I would have to render.

If you want to do an illustration and you're not sure, just start at somewhere around 100x100 - 200x200 and go from there.

It's perfectly okay to crop your canvas, or scale it up, or crunch your art down at any point if you think you need a different size. I do it all the time! It only takes a bit of cleanup to get you back to where you were.

🔸Where To Post

Outside of just regular socials, Twitter, Tumblr, Deviantart, Instagram etc, there are a few places that lean more towards pixel art that you might not have heard of.

⭐ Lospec Lospec is a low-res focused art website. Some pieces get given a 'monthly masterpiece' award. Not incredibly active, but I believe there are more features being added often.

⭐⭐ Pixilart Pixilart is a very popular pixel art community, with an app tied to it. The community tends to lean on the young side, so this is a low-pressure place to post with an relaxed vibe.

⭐⭐ Pixeljoint Pixeljoint is one of the big, old-school pixel art websites. You can only upload your art unscaled (1x) because there is a built-in zoom viewer. It has a bit of a reputation for being elitist (back in the 00s it was), but in my experience it's not like that any more. This is a fine place for a pixel artist to post if they are really interested in learning, and the history. The Hall of Fame has some of the most famous / impressive pixel art pieces that paved the way for the work we are doing today.

⭐⭐⭐ Cafe Dot Cafe Dot is my art server so I'm a little biased here. 🍵 It was created during the recent social media turbulence. We wanted a place to post art with no algorithms, and no NFT or AI chuds. We have a heavy no-self-promotion rule, and are more interested in community than skill or exclusivity. The other thing is that we have some kind of verification system- you must apply to be a Creator before you can post in the Art feed, or use voice. This helps combat the people who just want to self-promo and dip, or cause trouble, as well as weed out AI/NFT people. Until then, you are still welcome to post in any of the threads or channels. There is a lot to do in Cafe Dot. I host events weekly, so check the threads!

⭐⭐/r/pixelart The pixel art subreddit is pretty active! I've also heard some of my friends found work through posting here, so it's worth a try if you're looking. However, it is still Reddit- so if you're sensitive to rude people, or criticism you didn't ask for, you may want to avoid this one. Lol

🔸 Where To Find Work

You need money? I got you! As someone who mostly gets scouted on social media, I can share a few tips with you:

Put your email / portfolio in your bio Recruiters don't have all that much time to find artists, make it as easy as possible for someone to find your important information!

Clean up your profile If your profile feed is all full of memes, most people will just tab out rather than sift through. Doesn't apply as much to Tumblr if you have an art tag people can look at.

Post regularly, and repost Activity beats everything in the social media game. It's like rolling the dice, and the more you post the more chances you have. You have to have no shame, it's all business baby

Outside of just posting regularly and hoping people reach out to you, it can be hard to know where to look. Here are a few places you can sign up to and post around on.

/r/INAT INAT (I Need A Team) is a subreddit for finding a team to work with. You can post your portfolio here, or browse for people who need artists.

/r/GameDevClassifieds Same as above, but specifically for game-related projects.

Remote Game Jobs / Work With Indies Like Indeed but for game jobs. Browse them often, or get email notifications.

VGen VGen is a website specifically for commissions. You need a code from another verified artist before you can upgrade your account and sell, so ask around on social media or ask your friends. Once your account is upgraded, you can make a 'menu' of services people can purchase, and they send you an offer which you are able to accept, decline, or counter.

The evil websites of doom: Fiverr and Upwork I don't recommend them!! They take a big cut of your profit, and the sites are teeming with NFT and AI people hoping to make a quick buck. The site is also extremely oversaturated and competitive, resulting in a race to the bottom (the cheapest, the fastest, doing the most for the least). Imagine the kind of clients who go to these websites, looking for the cheapest option. But if you're really desperate...

🔸 Community

I do really recommend getting involved in a community. Finding like-minded friends can help you stay motivated to keep drawing. One day, those friends you met when you were just starting out may become your peers in the industry. Making friends is a game changer!

Discord servers Nowadays, the forums of old are mostly abandoned, and people split off into many different servers. Cafe Dot, Pixel Art Discord (PAD), and if you can stomach scrolling past all the AI slop, you can browse Discord servers here.

Twitch Streams Twitch has kind of a bad reputation for being home to some of the more edgy gamers online, but the pixel art community is extremely welcoming and inclusive. Some of the people I met on Twitch are my friends to this day, and we've even worked together on different projects! Browse pixel art streams here, or follow some I recommend: NickWoz, JDZombi, CupOhJoe, GrayLure, LumpyTouch, FrankiePixelShow, MortMort, Sodor, NateyCakes, NyuraKim, ShinySeabass, I could go on for ever really... There are a lot of good eggs on Pixel Art Twitch.

🔸 Other Helpful Websites

Palettes Lospec has a huge collection of user-made palettes, for any artist who has trouble choosing their colours, or just wants to try something fun. Rejected Palettes is full of palettes that didn't quite make it onto Lospec, ran by people who believe there are no bad colours.

The Spriters Resource TSR is an incredible website where users can upload spritesheets and tilesets from games. You can browse for your favourite childhood game, and see how they made it! This website has helped me so much in understanding how game assets come together in a scene.

VGMaps Similar to the above, except there are entire maps laid out how they would be played. This is incredible if you have to do level design, or for mocking up a scene for fun.

Game UI Database Not pixel-art specific, but UI is a very challenging part of graphics, so this site can be a game-changer for finding good references!

Retronator A digital newspaper for pixel-art lovers! New game releases, tutorials, and artworks!

Itch.io A website where people can upload, games, assets, tools... An amazing hub for game devs and game fans alike. A few of my favourite tools: Tiled, PICO-8, Pixel Composer, Juice FX, Magic Pencil for Aseprite

🔸 The End?

This is just part 1 for now, so please drop me a follow to see any more guides I release in the future. I plan on doing some writeups on how I choose colours, how to practise, and more!

I'm not an expert by any means, but everything I did to get to where I am is outlined in this guide. Pixel art is my passion, my job and my hobby! I want pixel art to be recognized everywhere as an art-form, a medium of its own outside of game-art or computer graphics!

This guide took me a long time, and took a lot of research and experience. Consider following me or supporting me if you are feeling generous.

And good luck to all the fledgling pixel artists, I hope you'll continue and have fun. I hope my guide helped you, and don't hesitate to send me an ask if you have any questions! 💕

My other tutorials (so far): How to draw Simple Grass for a game Hue Shifting

[cassiemaebarnes]

I Noticed

Bucky x reader

Summary: You and Bucky are good friends, but you didn't realize he knew practically everything about you...

Word Count: 4,779

The conference room was unusually quiet for a Tuesday afternoon meeting. Everyone was already seated – Steve flipping through a tablet, Natasha sipping coffee, Sam looking like he was seconds away from falling asleep with his head propped on one hand.

You were seated toward the middle, elbow on the table, cheek in your palm, staring at the clock.

"Ugh," you groaned softly. "I'm already thirsty. I should've brought water."

Sam cracked one eye open. "Rookie mistake."

You gave him a half-hearted glare. "Thanks, Sam. So helpful."

Then your stomach growled and you sighed again. "I should've brought snacks, too. I have a bag of those garlic parmesan Dot’s pretzels in my room – they’re my favorite. I was gonna bring 'em but I forgot. They would've been perfect right now."

"Garlic pretzels in a closed room? Bold choice," Natasha quipped, smirking over her mug.

"They’re elite. You wouldn’t understand."

Just as you finished your sentence, the door opened and in walked Bucky, casual as ever, looking like he hadn’t rushed at all despite being a solid five minutes late.

"Hey," he said to the room before walking over to your seat.

Without saying anything else, he placed a bottle of water and a Ziploc bag full of garlic parmesan Dot’s pretzels in front of you, then sat down beside you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked at the items.

So did everyone else.

Steve’s mouth parted. Natasha looked genuinely surprised. Sam sat up straighter, eyebrows raised. Even Tony, who’d just entered behind Bucky, paused mid-step.

You looked at the bag. Then the water. Then at Bucky.

"...You literally just brought me exactly what I said I wanted like ten seconds ago."

Bucky blinked at you. "Yeah? I figured you’d be thirsty – you never bring water to meetings. And you usually get hungry around this time, so I brought snacks."

There was a beat of silence.

And then it hit.

"Oh my God," Sam laughed, pointing dramatically. "They’re not even dating and he knows her snack schedule."

Steve covered a smile with his hand. "That’s...actually kind of impressive."

Natasha leaned forward. "You even brought her favorite flavor?"

Bucky frowned slightly, confused. "Well, yeah. She likes the garlic parmesan ones."

"HE KNOWS THE FLAVOR, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," Tony declared like a ring announcer. "WE’VE GOT A SOFTIE IN THE WILD."

You buried your face in your hands, cheeks burning. "Oh my God, you guys–"

Bucky just shrugged, annoyingly unbothered. "What? She gets grumpy when she’s hungry."

And somehow that only made it worse.

Or better.

Depending on who you asked.

You hadn’t even opened the bag of pretzels yet. They just sat there in front of you, taunting you while your face turned redder by the second.

And Bucky? Completely calm. Like being a walking encyclopedia on your habits was not wildly incriminating.

That is, until Sam leaned forward with a grin.

"Okay, Barnes. Pop quiz."

Bucky gave him a suspicious side-eye. "Why?"

"Because," Tony chimed in, "you just demonstrated an alarming level of girlfriend knowledge for someone who's allegedly not dating her."

"We're not–!" you started, but Natasha held up a finger to silence you.

"This is more fun."

She turned to Bucky. "Favorite coffee order. Go."

"Caramel iced latte, extra ice."

Your jaw dropped slightly. "That’s–"

"Correct," Sam cut in, smirking. "Alright, alright – shampoo and conditioner brand?"

Bucky didn’t even hesitate. "Pantene – the coconut scent."

You whipped around to stare at him. "How the hell do you know that?!"

He looked at you like it was obvious. "Because your bathroom always smells like coconut. And that one time you stayed at my place after a mission, you complained that I only had 2-in-1."

Natasha bit back a laugh. "We’re logging that for future teasing."

"Okay, okay," Tony leaned on the table like he was hosting a game show. "Let’s make this harder. Favorite snack that's not garlic parmesan pretzels?"

"Peanut M&M’s. But she picks out the brown ones and eats them last because she says they taste the most ‘chocolatey.’"

You slapped a hand over your mouth. "Are you keeping notes somewhere?!"

Bucky just shrugged like it was no big deal. “You talk a lot when we hang out.”

"My heart can’t take this," Steve said, dramatically clutching his chest.

"Mine either," Sam added. "This is some Hallmark level slow burn stuff and I didn’t even know I wanted it."

"Do you know her favorite hoodie too?" Natasha asked.

He glanced at you, then pointed without looking. "That light grey one she stole from me? Wears it three times a week, minimum."

You gaped at him. "...You let me steal that."

"You think I didn’t notice?" he said, and you caught the tiniest curve of a smirk on his lips.

The room collectively lost it.

"Okay, this is criminal," Tony declared. "I’ve seen actual married couples who know less about each other."

"You’re clearly in love with her," Sam added helpfully.

Bucky’s smirk dropped slightly, and for a split second, something unreadable flickered in his expression as he glanced at you – soft, unsure, and maybe a little too earnest.

You froze.

So did he.

And then Natasha cleared her throat. "Well, this meeting is officially a disaster, but I’m emotionally invested now."

Steve gave you both a look. "Anything either of you wanna share with the class?"

You made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, covering your face with your hands again.

Beside you, Bucky just leaned back in his chair and said, “Can we please talk about the mission now? Before they start planning our wedding?”

But even as he said it, you felt his knee brush against yours under the table.

--

The meeting finally wrapped up after an hour of mission briefings, supply checklists, and Tony trying to convince Steve to let him name the next Quinjet The Iron Bus. Everyone stood, gathering their things, but the tension in the room wasn’t about the mission at all – it was about you and Bucky.

You had barely pushed your chair back before Sam clapped his hands once and turned to Bucky with renewed mischief in his eyes.

"Alright, now that the boring stuff’s out of the way – round two."

Bucky blinked. "Seriously?"

"You thought we forgot? That whole time I was pretending to care about drone placements, I was building a list."

"I was also building a list," Natasha added, already pulling out her phone.

Steve sighed but didn’t stop them. “I mean…I am kind of curious now.”

Tony grinned. “This is the best part of my day.”

You groaned. “Oh my god, guys–”

“Nope,” Sam said. “Too late. Barnes, what’s her favorite candle scent?”

“Vanilla,” Bucky said without pause.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay, but how do you know that?”

“You lit one in my kitchen once. Said it was ‘elite cozy vibes.’”

Tony choked on a laugh. “He even quoted her. This is so real.”

Natasha stepped in next. “Alright – what color does she always pick for her nails?”

“Soft pink. Unless she’s in a mood, then it’s that dark reddish-purple color…what’s it called? ‘Black Cherry?’”

You squinted. “Okay, that’s either creepy or impressive–”

“Impressive,” Sam decided. “Definitely impressive.”

Steve raised a brow. “What about her go-to song when she’s in a bad mood?”

Bucky smiled a little. “idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish.”

You blinked. “Wait, how do you even know that?”

“You played it on repeat for like four days after that one mission with the HYDRA facility. I asked you if you were okay and you said, ‘I’m fine, I just need to cry and hydrate.’”

Natasha was actually laughing now. “He’s got quotes, too.”

Tony raised a finger like he was conducting an interview. “Okay, Bucky – final round. What’s her go-to breakfast when she’s had a rough night?”

Bucky leaned back casually. “Scrambled eggs with pepperjack cheese, hot sauce, two slices of toast, and coffee with oat milk and a tiny bit of cinnamon.”

Everyone turned to you like you’d just been caught in 4K.

You stared at him. “You remembered all of that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve made it for you before.”

Sam fake-fainted onto the conference table.

“I can’t take this,” Steve said, rubbing his temples. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s domestic,” Natasha corrected. “And I love it.”

You groaned again and dropped your head onto your crossed arms. “Can the floor swallow me now?”

Bucky leaned over and murmured, “I think they’re just jealous.”

You peeked up at him. “Of what?”

He gave you that tiny smirk again. “That I pay attention.”

You sat up and shoved the bag of pretzels toward Bucky with a flustered laugh. “Here. Take these back. You’ve earned them.”

Bucky just grinned and tossed one in his mouth. “They taste better when I’m right.”

--

Eventually, the room emptied out. Steve wrangled Tony into actually submitting a mission report, Nat headed to the gym, and Sam left muttering about needing a nap.

You lingered, still sitting in your chair, picking at the label on your water bottle while Bucky packed up his notes. The teasing had died down, but your heart hadn’t quite stopped doing somersaults.

He was halfway to the door when you said, softly, “Hey, Buck?”

He paused, looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

You motioned for him to come back. “Can I ask you something?”

His brows rose, but he came back over, folding his arms as he leaned against the edge of the table beside you. “You wanna quiz me now?”

“Maybe.” You tilted your head, watching him. “I just wanna see how far this weird…psychic Barnes ability goes.”

He gave a lazy grin. “Alright. Hit me.”

You took a breath. “Okay. Pads or tampons?”

He blinked once. “Both.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Details?”

He scratched his jaw, not missing a beat. “You use the regular tampons most days, but you always keep a pack of those thin pads with the wings in your bathroom drawer – orange wrapper, right? You said the combo makes you feel less paranoid about leaks when you’re out on missions.”

Your jaw dropped a little.

Bucky’s smirk faded, growing a little more serious when he saw your expression. “I wasn’t, like, digging through your stuff or anything. You asked me to grab painkillers once while you were curled up on the couch, and I saw the pack when I opened the drawer. And you mentioned the tampon thing that one time when we got stuck waiting in that safe house for hours and you were grumpy.”

You swallowed. “Okay…uh. Chocolate preference?”

“Milk chocolate when you’re just craving sugar, milk chocolate with caramel when you’re on your period.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t stop. “When I cry, what do I want someone to do?”

“Sit with you. Don’t talk unless you ask. You like quiet comfort.”

You were fully staring at him now, unable to find any words, so he filled the silence gently.

“I know you get really overwhelmed when you feel like someone’s watching too closely while you’re upset. You hate feeling...exposed. So I don’t stare. I just stay close.”

You blinked fast, chest tightening with something way bigger than embarrassment now.

“Why?” you asked, barely above a whisper. “Why do you pay attention like that?”

Bucky shrugged one shoulder, not meeting your eyes at first. “Because you matter to me. And…when someone matters, you notice things. The important stuff. The things that make them feel seen.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, overwhelmed. “No one’s ever paid attention like that. No one’s ever noticed.”

Finally, he looked at you again. And this time, there was no smirk, no teasing grin – just something quiet and sure in his eyes.

“I noticed.”

After a moment, you smiled faintly. “What’s my favorite place to be when I’m sad?”

“Anywhere I am,” he said without missing a beat.

And this time, you didn’t even try to hide the way your heart skipped.

--

Later that evening, the compound was quieter – mission prep done, sparring sessions wrapped up, and the post-meeting teasing finally done.

You’d snuck off for a hot shower, hoping to wash away the lingering flush in your cheeks from earlier. The Avengers had been relentless, and even though Bucky hadn’t said anything else since the conference room, his words still echoed in your head.

I noticed.

You exhaled under the spray and tried not to think about it too hard.

Meanwhile, in the common room, the chaos was still quietly unfolding.

Tony strolled in with a tablet in hand, looking far too pleased with himself. “Alright, children, it’s that magical time – takeout vote. We've got Thai, Indian, tacos, pizza, sushi, and that weird little vegan place Bruce likes.”

“I swear to God, if you put seaweed bowls on the menu again–” Sam started.

“Focus,” Tony cut him off, tapping the screen. “We’ll tally up votes. Bucky, where’s your girl?”

Bucky, sprawled comfortably on the couch with one leg slung over the side, didn’t even flinch at the phrasing. “Showering.”

“Wow,” Natasha muttered. “Didn’t even blink at that.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “And you’re voting for her too, I assume?”

Bucky nodded, nonchalant. “Two for Indian.”

Steve looked up from his book. “Did she say that?”

“Nope.”

Sam smirked immediately. “So we’re guessing now?”

“I’m not guessing,” Bucky replied evenly. “She’s not in a pizza mood today.”

Tony looked at him like he was a contestant on a game show. “So you're locking in Indian for the both of you. No communication. No signals. No magic powers?”

Bucky shrugged. “Yep.”

“I’m starting a betting pool,” Sam announced, pulling out his phone.

“I want in,” Natasha said, crossing her arms.

“She loves pizza,” Steve reminded. “Are we sure about this?”

“She does love pizza,” Bucky agreed, arms folded behind his head. “But not tonight.”

Sam grinned wide. “Alright, let’s take some bets. Five says she picks pizza. Anyone else?”

Money and pride were quickly thrown around – half the team convinced Bucky’s luck had to run out eventually, the other half wary because…well. It was Bucky. And somehow he just knew things about you.

Five minutes later, you wandered into the common room in fresh clothes, hair damp and rubbing moisturizer into your face with zero awareness of the quiet, expectant tension in the air.

“Hey,” you said casually, “what’s going on?”

Tony cleared his throat, playing it cool. “Just figuring out dinner. Got a few options – Thai, Indian, tacos, pizza, sushi, and Bruce’s vegan sadness bowls. What sounds good?”

You made a face, thinking. “Hmm, not really in the mood for pizza today. Indian.”

The room exploded.

“NO WAY,” Nat yelled.

“Unbelievable,” Steve said.

Sam stood and threw his arms in the air. “THIS IS RIGGED.”

Tony shouted over the chaos, “I CALL WITCHCRAFT.”

You froze, blinking at everyone, confused.

“Did I miss something?” you asked slowly.

Bucky just sat there calmly, like he hadn’t just won the mind-reader Olympics. “Told them you’d want Indian.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you spy on me in the shower or something?”

“Nope,” he said, looking smug. “Just know you.”

The team descended into chaos again – some demanding their money back, others insisting on a rematch next week.

You just grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and chucked it at Bucky’s chest.

He caught it, laughed, and tossed it back. “I’m undefeated.”

--

The food arrived about twenty minutes later, the smell of warm spices and garlic naan instantly filling the common area. Tony called out a triumphant “Dinner’s here!” like he’d made it himself, and everyone swarmed the table to claim their orders.

You padded over a little slower, then Bucky turned from the table and held up a hand.

“I got your plate,” he said casually, already balancing two in his hands.

You paused. “Wait, I didn’t even tell you–”

“I know.” He handed it over without fanfare.

You looked down.

Your favorite combo – chicken tikka masala, a scoop of basmati rice (but not too much), a piece of garlic naan torn in half, some cucumber raita on the side, and a few spoonfuls of that tangy chickpea salad you always liked when you weren’t in the mood for something too heavy.

You stared at the plate like it had been conjured by sorcery.

He turned and headed for the couch like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just read your mind again. And behind you, the rest of the team was once more staring – some with mouths open, others quietly shaking their heads.

Sam muttered, “Alright, I’m starting to believe he’s just a very hot, brooding psychic.”

Natasha leaned toward Tony. “We should run a brain scan.”

Tony looked vaguely offended. “Trust me, I already tried. He’s just…annoying.”

You followed Bucky to the couch and sat beside him, setting your plate on the coffee table before sinking into the cushions.

“You keep doing that,” you said after a second, still looking at your dinner.

“Doing what?” he replied, tearing off a piece of naan without looking at you.

“Knowing what I want. Before I even know what I want.”

That made him glance over. His voice was quiet now, just between the two of you. “Is it weird?”

You thought about it. “It’s…not. I mean, it should be. But it’s not. It’s actually kinda–”

Your voice caught, the word sitting there, unsaid.

Comforting.

Bucky nodded like he already knew.

Then, like he wanted to shift the moment before it got too close to something you couldn’t take back, he leaned in a little with a smirk. “Don’t act too impressed. I just paid attention. And you’re kinda predictable.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.” He bumped his knee gently against yours. “Still right, though.”

The rest of dinner passed in a cozy haze – soft laughter, shared food, everyone gradually settling into their usual spots. But the way Bucky’s knee stayed resting against yours, neither of you moving – it felt like something new.

--

A while later, plates were cleaned, takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, and stomachs full enough that no one was in the mood to move much – perfect conditions for the sacred Avengers tradition: movie night.

“Alright,” Tony called out from where he was already draped dramatically over the recliner. “What are our options tonight?”

Okay, we got The Godfather, Jaws, Tangled, Mission Impossible, 21 Jump Street, and John Wick,” Sam read off the screen.

You stood, stretching. “I’ll be right back. Don’t vote without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve said, even though everyone absolutely would.

The second the bathroom door clicked shut, Tony sat up like a meerkat. “Alright. Let’s go. What’s your pick, Barnes?”

“John Wick,” Bucky said, without even looking up from where he was idly spinning the empty naan container on the table.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Nat whipped her head around. “You’re not choosing Tangled?”

“Nope.”

“She just said the other day that she wanted to watch it,” Nat reminded him, pointing dramatically. “Like, word for word, ‘I wanna rewatch Tangled soon.’ You’re telling me you’re going against that?”

Bucky just shrugged, totally unbothered. “I know what she wants tonight.”

Tony looked at Sam, eyes narrowed. “This is the beginning of the fall of House Barnes. The man’s gotten cocky.”

“I give him one more round,” Sam muttered, already pulling out his wallet. “Five bucks says she picks Tangled.”

“Ten says 21 Jump Street,” Clint called from the kitchen. “I say she’s in a comedy mood.”

“I’m going full chaos,” Nat added, grinning. “Twenty on Jaws.”

Steve, ever neutral, just raised his eyebrows. “You really think she wants an action movie right now?”

Bucky finally looked up. “She’s tired. Mentally wiped. Tangled is comfort, yeah, but she wants to zone out, not cry over animated lanterns.”

Tony blinked. “You’re playing 4D chess.”

“She’s playing checkers,” Bucky replied calmly. “I just know the board.”

The room was a barely contained mess of betting and bickering by the time you reappeared.

You sat back down, cozying up with the blanket you’d left on the couch. “We vote yet?”

“We were just about to,” Steve said, way too quickly.

They went around the room, collecting votes with forced casualness.

Then, all eyes turned to you.

You paused, lips pursed in thought. “Hmm…”

The silence was deafening.

You tapped your chin. “Not really in the mood for Disney right now, actually…”

Someone gasped.

“…Let’s do John Wick.”

The room erupted.

“WHAT?!”

“No way – NO WAY–”

“Check her room for bugs!”

“ARE YOU TWO SECRETLY DATING?!”

Tony was pacing, Sam collapsed dramatically onto the rug, and Nat looked like she was genuinely questioning reality.

Meanwhile, Bucky just leaned back, arms crossed, as calm as ever.

You blinked at the chaos. “Did I…do something?”

“Oh, you did something,” Sam groaned, flopping backward.

“You broke them,” Bucky muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, his voice full of quiet amusement.

You looked over at him, fighting back a smile. “You knew I’d pick it.”

He met your gaze, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. “Course I did.”

And somehow, in the middle of popcorn-throwing accusations and Tony trying to demand a federal investigation, your heart started beating just a little faster.

--

The next morning started like any other: coffee, early training, then hitting the showers.

You stretched your arms behind your head, grimacing. “I’m starving. I want eggs. Like, five eggs.”

“Go shower, Egg Queen,” Sam called. “We’ll save you a spot.”

You flipped him off over your shoulder, already headed toward your room.

Once you disappeared around the corner, the rest of the group started trickling toward the kitchen. Bucky walked in with Steve, Nat, and Sam, still towel-drying his hair, when the teasing immediately resumed.

“So,” Nat said, leaning against the counter with a smirk, “you gonna make her eggs now, Barnes? Scrambled? Sunny side up? Whole omelet situation?”

Bucky gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Would. But she’s not gonna want eggs anymore.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “She literally said the word ‘eggs’ like two minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” Sam added. “Plural. With intention.”

“She’s gonna change her mind,” Bucky said calmly, reaching for the pancake mix.

There was a beat of silence.

“…You’re kidding,” Clint said, appearing behind them and already suspicious.

“Nope.”

Nat crossed her arms. “Alright. What is she gonna want?”

“Chocolate chip pancakes,” Bucky said, pulling ingredients from the cabinet. “Light layer of peanut butter on top. Not spread thick. Just enough.”

“And syrup?” Steve asked, deadpan.

“Just a little. Thin drizzle over the top, not drowning.”

“Drink?” Sam challenged, narrowing his eyes.

“Chocolate milk.”

At that, no one said anything for a second. They just stared. Nat was already pulling out her phone.

“I’m documenting this. If you’re wrong, I’m sending the video to every group chat we have.”

“Do it,” Bucky said, already whisking batter like a man with zero fear of failure.

Ten minutes passed. Pancakes were golden, peanut butter spread lightly, and the chocolate milk was already poured in your favorite mug.

And then, you walked in, hair damp and pulled back, hoodie sleeves half covering your hands. You opened the fridge, still blinking from the heat of the shower.

“Hey,” Bucky said without turning around. “Want me to make your eggs?”

You stared into the fridge for a beat. “Mm…no, actually. I think I want pancakes.”

The room went dead silent.

You didn’t notice. “Do we have chocolate chips?”

Still silence.

“Oh, and chocolate milk,” you added, pulling the fridge door closed. “You know, that sounds really good actually.”

You turned.

The plate was already sitting on the counter.

Your chocolate milk was already in your mug.

You blinked. “Wait. Did you–”

“Yeah.” Bucky slid the plate toward you with a casual smile. “Figured you’d want pancakes.”

You looked down at it, then back up. “Okay, that’s…insane.”

“I’m used to you changing your mind,” he said with a little shrug. “I listen.”

And then, the room exploded.

“NOPE – NOPE, I’M OUT!” Sam stormed out of the kitchen.

Nat was filming again. “I hate how calm he is. Like he didn’t just perform witchcraft again.”

“I’m convinced,” Clint muttered. “They’re telepathically bonded.”

Steve just looked vaguely disturbed. “I don’t even know my own favorite pancake setup that well.”

You blinked at Bucky again, who was completely unfazed, like this wasn’t the millionth time in twenty-four hours he’d rearranged reality by knowing you a little too well.

You took a bite of the pancake, still warm and soft and perfect.

“…Okay,” you mumbled with your mouth full. “This is actually kinda amazing.”

He leaned against the counter, smug as ever. “Told you.”

--

The others slowly trickled out of the kitchen after breakfast, muttering in stunned tones, still trying to recover. Nat was rewatching her own footage like it was evidence in a conspiracy theory. Tony was threatening to install surveillance.

But eventually, it was just you and Bucky, the clink of your fork on the plate and the hum of the fridge the only sounds left behind.

You took another bite, slower this time. It was still warm.

You glanced at him, leaning back on the counter across from you, arms crossed, looking completely at ease – like this wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world, like he hadn’t just predicted your entire breakfast down to the drizzle of syrup.

“…How do you do that?” you asked, finally, voice soft in the quiet.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

You gave him a look, the corners of your mouth twitching. “Bucky.”

He smirked a little, then pushed off the counter and walked over to you, grabbing a clean mug and pouring himself some coffee. He didn’t answer right away.

“I just pay attention,” he said eventually, voice quieter now. “That’s all.”

You swallowed the last bite and leaned forward on your elbows. “Yeah, but…it’s more than that. You don’t just notice, like, big stuff. You know all these little things about me. Things most people don’t even think to remember.”

He looked over at you, gaze steady but warm. “Well, most people don’t really look at you the way I do.”

You blinked.

“Not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a hint of a smile breaking through. “Just…I notice things.”

He sat across from you, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug. “You start craving chocolate when you're stressed. You say you want eggs, but if you’ve just showered, you usually go for something sweet instead. You hum when you’re thinking. And when you’re overwhelmed, you get really quiet – not annoyed, just kind of…floaty. Like your brain’s stuck buffering.”

Your breath caught a little, something fluttering deep in your chest.

“And you always drink chocolate milk when you feel safe,” he added, softer this time. “Not just when you’re hungry.”

You looked down at your mug. You hadn’t even realized that.

Silence fell between you again, but this time it felt heavier – comfortable, but with something unspoken stretched between you.

“…Why?” you asked, finally.

He looked up.

You met his eyes. “Why do you notice all that?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you for a moment, like he was deciding how honest to be.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper: “Because you make it easy to care.”

You didn’t say anything.

Couldn’t.

He took a breath, eyes flicking down to the table, then back up.

“I’ve had to watch my back for a long time. I notice things – it’s how I survive. But you…” He gave a quiet laugh, like it surprised even him. “You’re the first person who made me want to notice the good stuff. The small stuff. Just so I could take care of it.”

That flutter in your chest turned into a full-blown ache.

You stared at him, unsure what to say, heart pounding.

But before either of you could say another word, Sam’s voice yelled from the other room:

“Hey, Barnes! If you’re done being a walking love song, can you bring the remote?!”

Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Every time.”

You were still looking at him, a soft smile pulling at the corner of your lips. “You’re kind of a sap.”

He grinned at that, his eyes flicking to yours with a spark. “Only for you.”

And then he got up, grabbed the remote, and tossed a wink over his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

Leaving you alone in the kitchen.

With your perfect pancakes.

And a heart that wouldn’t stop racing.

--

Masterlist

Bucky Taglist: @winchestert101 @herejustforbuckybarnes @avengemepercy @buckyslove1917 @nelachu2423 @iyskgd

[prettyngeto]

PROLOGUE || signed, sealed, delivered (i'm yours) - 18+

sukuna x f!reader - series

summary: one night (and one wine bottle in), you decide to sign up for an anonymous pen pal programme at uni. sukuna was given two options - a therapist or a pen pal. you can guess which one he chose. only problem? you hated each other's guts in real life.

content: uni au, anonymous pen pals, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, bad boy sukuna x fed up reader, forensic sciences student! sukuna, mutual pining masked as academic warfare, sukuna lashes out at everyone except her because yes... he's still a little shit though, reader has a cute obsession with sea animals - specifically sharks, eventual smut 🌚

main masterlist || jjk masterlist

series masterlist ⌯⌲ prologue ⌯⌲ chapter one (tba)

Dr Yumi Takahashi’s office smelt like oranges and vanilla - sweet and serene. Ryomen Sukuna hated it with every fibre of his being.

He sat slouched in the annoyingly comfortable seat across her desk, arms folded tight across his broad chest. His gaze scanned the room in quiet disdain before honing in on her baby blue blazer. Then lower - to the enamel pin on her lapel that read: ‘catch vibes, not viruses’. God help him. He fought the urge to scoff, lips curling, tongue flicking over his lip ring - a nervous habit disguised as irritation. The fabric of his black compression shirt stretched over solid muscle and tattooed skin as he shifted, itching to bolt out the door at any given moment.

“So, Ryomen,” Dr Takahashi began, voice eerily soft, placing her mug of lavender tea down to put on her signature pair of lime-green rimmed glasses. “Let’s talk about what happened in Professor Kimura’s class.” 

“I didn’t do shit,” he snapped.

“Language.” She chimed, eyes peeking up at him over the frame of her glasses disapprovingly whilst pointing to the poster behind her that read ‘No vulgar vocabulary!!’, complete with a smiley face in the corner. She opened a purple polka dotted file, RYOMEN SUKUNA, printed out in bold across the front.  

“Let’s get back to the issue at hand. You slammed a textbook so hard you cracked the desk Ryomen.” She paused, hands folded as she leaned forward. “You wanna tell me why?”

He scoffed, irritation growing once more. “He said I was wrong just because I didn’t cite his paper. Sue me for not wanting to kiss his academic ass. Besides, it’s not my fault he wrote a whole load of bullshit. I cited three other papers - all peer-reviewed by the way - was that not good enough for him?” 

Dr Takahashi blinked slowly. Calmly. Deadly. “You have anger issues, love.” 

“Tch, no shit.” He mutters, rolling his eyes. 

She remained silent, ignoring his quiet jab. She simply opened her drawer to pull out a floral folder, sliding it across the desk with the air of someone offering a dessert menu. “Two options.” She hummed, pushing her glasses up her nose, holding up her index finger. “Option one: therapy. Weekly anger management sessions. No exceptions.” 

Sukuna paled, mouth parting slightly in horror. Sit in a room with some shrink and talk about his feelings for the better part of the day? Fuck no. 

“…What’s the other option?” He muttered, tongue flicking out to tap at his lip ring again. 

She smiled. Sweet. Slightly sadistic. There wasn’t much that could scare Sukuna. But Dr Takahashi’s smile? Yeah, that shit made the list. 

She slid across a bright yellow pamphlet, a cartoon envelope taking up most of the page. “Option two: you join the university’s anonymous pen pal programme.” Her smile widened. “Organised by yours truly”

He balked. His eyes flicked up at her. Then at the leaflet. Then, back at her, squinting like she’d just asked him to scale Everest with a fucking toothpick. Hell, at this rate, he’d rather do that.

“You want me to write? Letters? To some fuckass stranger? Like it's 1725?”

“Writing is a powerful emotional outlet, Ryomen.” She explained, with the patience of a monk. “And it’s anonymous, no names, no faces. Just pure communication. I think it could do you some good.” 

“I refuse.” 

Her smile sharpened - no more softness, just pure sadism.

Sukuna shivered.

“Shall I book your first therapy session then?” she hummed, voice sickly sweet.

His eyes flitted back to the therapy form. He imagined someone staring at him, asking him: ‘And how did that make you feel?’ with faux sympathy. It made him want to punch a wall. Or maybe someone. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, seething silently, crimson eyes fixed on the stupid pamphlet.

“....Fine,” he muttered. “Give me the damn pen.”

A FEW HOURS LATER - 2AM, THE GIRLS' DORMS

You sat cross-legged against the headboard of your bed, laptop perched on your thighs as you took another swig of your wine bottle. Yes, bottle - because somewhere around your fourth sip, you decided glasses were beneath you. 

10 Things I Hate About You was playing for what was probably the millionth time in the background, when your laptop pinged. A new email? Who in their right mind was sending campus-wide emails at two in the fucking morning? 

I regret to inform you that curiosity (and alcohol) won this time - you open it.

“Not therapy. Not journaling. But a little bit of both.” ‘Dr. Y. Takahashi’s new wellbeing initiative—connect through anonymous letters!’ 

Well fuck… that was poetic, (according to your wine-hazy brain.)

Naturally, you did what anyone halfway through a bottle of Chardonnay and going through a quarter life crisis would do right now. You signed up.

ᯓ★ notes from star: IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES GUYS i'm cooking so hard, trust. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated and let me know if you wanna be in the taglist!! mwah <3

PRETTYNGETO© 2025 - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WORKS ON ANY OTHER SOCIAL PLATFORMS

[shotmrmiller]

I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!” 

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up. 

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.” 

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 

“You have a condom?” 

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[hivemuthur]

Restless

viktorxgn!reader explicit. This is a request for my lovely artist friend @notoakay! The premise: Viktor keeps a dream diary that you accidentally discover. Guess what kind of dreams he keeps having :') warnings: depravity and blow jobs.

word count: 3,1K

author’s note: Hello on this beautiful Freakday, grab a Freaktor while I go out to socialize! Also, this is my small contribution to a gn!reader smut category, finally getting there. @notoakay thank you for all the lovely art for my fics, I can't believe I'm so lucky :') pre-read by @rennethen!

—

He wakes up with a deep, long sigh, a hand coming up to rub across his face. His back is damp, skin tacky with sweat from a night of tossing and turning, and between his legs, the heavy insistence of a morning erection presses against the sheets. Eyes still closed, mind still buried half in dreamland, since it’s so, so hard to let you go from the place his brain has conjured you into overnight. A place between his feet, cheek resting against the tender inside of his thigh, his hand curled at the crown of your head, a slow, loving press of fingers.

Lucid and pliant, Viktor sits up and reaches for the notebook on his bedstand. Shaking the sleep from his stiff fingers, he picks up a pen and writes down every detail before it fades, so he doesn’t forget, so he can keep at least this version of you. Like a letter, he starts with your name, scribbled in shaky letters. Then—

You’ve plagued me again, my beautiful friend.

It started with your hands in mine, warm and kind. You traced the lines of my palm as if you’d meant to memorize. You spoke, though I cannot recall the words, only the way they stirred at the base of my spine, a current running upward, catching at my throat. You knelt between my legs like it was inevitable. Like gravity, like breath.

The heat of your mouth—Gods, it was ruinous. You took me in slow, lips parting around me in something longing and cruel. My fingers found your scalp to ground myself, as it’s so easy to slip with you. Your tongue undid me, made me useless to reason, to logic, to anything beyond the wet slide of you hollowing your cheeks, sucking me further into the dark.

I do not know if I warned you before I came, only that I woke with my lips parted, your name a whisper into the ceiling.

And now, as always, I commit you to these pages, lest the memory slip from my grasp like you so often do.

Then, Viktor reads through it, again and again, eyes skimming and stopping on words, as if reliving before he has to brace through the day, in which you will be infuriatingly present, maddeningly impossible to place anywhere near the scenarios his mind keeps conjuring night after night.

With slow hands, he gets dressed—a mundane action, utterly mechanical. He packs his bag for lectures, journal wedged at the very bottom beneath textbooks, notebooks, and pens. The notebooks are all the same, a dull shade of red, the vermillion lost somewhere between a thousand sun-licks stolen through the glass of his windows. The secret one marked with a single dot on the spine, barely visible, as it’s only for Viktor to know which notes are to be seen by others and which are not.

It’s hard enough to be around you in public spaces—lecture hall, library, cantina, lab classes. Worse if you get a project together—that has prompted dreams that make Viktor question his own sanity, if merely as much as a brush of your fingers on his forearm is enough to give his imagination a kickstart, presenting him with images of you on top of him, nuzzling into his neck, thighs heavy against his hips.

Even worse if the said project requires after-hours engagement in spaces that are less public, more cramped, like, say, his couch. There, your ankles splayed across his lap, purely unbearable. He would stare then at the balls of your feet and your toes flexing, wondering how your Achilles tendon would feel between his thumb and index finger, what it would feel like to press the heel of his palm into your arch. What sound you would make for him. How soft your skin is there—the one that never touches the shoe.

Night after this, he had the worst time. His own feet, toes curled painfully, hips thrusting into the mattress, hands fisting the sheet as he woke up long before dawn, bathed in his own sweat, cum staining his boxers. The journal entry from that night particularly hasty, written in the dark, ink smeared with the damp sheen of his hand.

You ruin me.

Your back on the sheets, hair on the pillow. I pressed my mouth to your ankle first, I remember that, a stupid indulgence. Kissed the fragile bone there, let my teeth scrape. Your foot twitched. You laughed, soft, breathless, then—

Then I hit the mattress hard, your hands fisted in my shirt, dragging me down. Your legs, God, your legs, warm and eager, wrapping around my waist, heel hooking into my hip, pressing me closer. I was there, flush against you, drowning in the heat of you, the way your body fit to mine like it had always meant to.

You told me something—I don't know what. The words are lost, just a whisper against my cheek. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way you moved beneath me, the way your breath hitched when I rocked forward, the way your nails dragged over my shoulders as I pushed inside.

Tight, unbearable. You took me so well. I wanted to stop, to savour, but you wouldn’t let me, your hips meeting mine, guiding, demanding. My hands on your thighs, pushing them wider, my lips at your neck, your shoulder, your open mouth. You trembled. You clenched around me. I lost myself.

And then I woke up.

Again.

Zatraceně.

Tired, eyes weighed down by heavy bags, he rose at dawn and dragged himself to the library, hoping to steady his mind with engineering theory. Unaware of how bad it was going to get, he absentmindedly sketched the curve of your mouth into the corner of his notebook, drawn from memory.

Now, seated in the lecture hall, you three benches away, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, he taps his pen idly against his chin, trying to catch your gaze. A mistake. The moment he does, a daydream unspools, creeping in at the edges of his vision, so vivid that Heimerdinger’s voice announcing project pairs barely registers.

He writes it down, quick, hasty, barely a few words: I’d give anything to see your eyes roll while you moan out my name.

As if through osmosis, his brain absorbs the announcement, and oh—there are your eyes again, watching him, smiling, your head nodding in acknowledgment just as the information finally filters through his vacant ears and reaches his brain: you are doing a project together.

And there is his name—not moaned out, like he wishes, but spoken kindly when you approach his bench.

“So, Viktor,” you say, crouching by his seat, folding your arms on the study desk. “Ready to work together again?”

“Always,” he replies. “Start in the evening, as usual?” He hopes he doesn’t have to spell out the meeting point for you—the insistent blush on his cheeks is already hard enough to control.

“Perfect,” you hum. “I’ll swing by after dinner.”

It’s hard not to pace, even with the cane in his hand. He finds himself walking idly from one side of the room to the other, picking up random objects just to keep his hands busy. By the time you knock, he’s engrossed in a book on ship construction, of all things, standing halfway between the door and his bed. Tome wedged under his armpit, he walks up faster than he would like and swings the door open.

“Hi,” you say, giving him a small wave. “I’ve brought some notes.”

“Hi yourself.” His fingers tighten briefly around the edge of the doorframe before he steps aside to let you in. “And that’s perfect.”

The project is relatively simple—designing a spring-loaded prosthetic grip, a mechanism that mimics the natural flexion of fingers through tension cables and calibrated springs. It’s a study in biomechanics, balance, and precision, something Viktor has already taken notes on long before Heimerdinger’s assignment. His interest in assistive devices is not new, though he rarely shares the extent of it. The challenge isn’t in concept but in refinement: reducing mechanical lag, ensuring the grip has enough force to hold delicate objects without crushing them, making it adjustable for different users. Tonight’s task is to sketch a preliminary blueprint and compile research notes, but Viktor, always a step ahead, already has calculations scribbled in the margins of past lecture notes, waiting for a moment like this.

After a brief discussion, during which Viktor tries very hard not to stare at your lips too intently, you splay a large sheet of paper across his desk and begin jotting down major points. As you write, your waist brushes his shoulder, and you steal a long, secret inhale of his scent—mostly soap, but anything touched by his skin is worthy of such theft.

He shifts in his chair, eyes tracing the movement of your hand, his mind torn between the engineering task before him and your wrist. When the former wins—not without casualties, in the form of two lashes falling from his lids due to the effort of blinking the wrist away—Viktor picks up a pen and begins drafting.

At some point, he stops, staring at the page, sighing as he gathers his thoughts. Then, without looking, he gestures vaguely toward his bedside table. “Eh, grab that notebook, will you?”

“Can you read the marked page out loud?” he asks, unaware of the impending catastrophe.

“Of course,” you say, nodding, retrieving the notebook—only to freeze as you open it. Your name sits there, conjoined with beautiful in one sentence. Heat rises from your neck to the tips of your ears as you skim the passage, and you thank every force in the universe that Viktor is still looking down.

“Everything alright?” he asks, hunched over.

A lump lodges itself in your throat, one of the largest you’ve ever had to swallow, yet somehow, you manage to say, “Yes, just… are you sure?”

“Yes, I work better when dictated to,” Viktor replies, matter-of-fact.

You lick your lips. Blink. And then—“It started with your hands in mine, warm and kind—”

Be it his preoccupation with engineering or sheer denial of something so mortifying, Viktor doesn’t clock it at first when you say your name aloud. Gods, he doesn’t react fast enough when you read the phrase my beautiful friend.

It goes too far. Far enough that he’s suddenly on his feet, limping toward you, snapping the notebook shut in your hands. Panting, he stammers, “S-stop. Please.”

“Viktor—”

“How much have you read?” he cuts in, eyes hopeful in a way that’s almost foolish. Hope is all he has now.

“The marked page,” you murmur, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Oh, Gods,” he groans, sinking onto the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He doesn’t even bother to take the damning evidence of his depravity away from you.

“Wait,” you try, though you’re not sure what you’re stopping—his despair, his retreat? “Wait,” you say again, placing the notebook on your lap, mind scrambling for the right approach.

Throwing yourself at him is an option—one you entertain briefly—but it feels too blunt. Reading more is tempting, but you fear Viktor might dissolve into an irretrievable puddle of shame at your feet. Instead, you set the notebook aside and brush your knuckles against his.

“I dream of you too,” you say quietly, trying to coax his hands away from his ears. “I just can’t write about it as beautifully as you do.”

Viktor’s mouth parts as he finally looks at you. Eyes searching, brows drawn, he whispers, voice small, “Do not toy with me.”

You exhale, almost wounded by the accusation, but instead of reaching for words—already admitted to be not your strength—you take his hand, pressing his fingers to the pulse at your wrist. “I’m not lying,” you say, thumb brushing the heel of his palm.

And Viktor, your sweet friend, a poet apparently buried beneath layers of science, closes his eyes and feels out your heartbeat. You might call it treacherous, the way it flutters beneath his touch, but seeing his features smooth, relief softening the angles of his pretty face, you find yourself grateful instead.

Once he deems it the truth, his hand slides further, cradling the side of your neck as he presses his forehead to yours, sighing deep from the hollow of his chest. “Impossible,” he whispers. “So many nights I’ve spent wondering, restless.”

“Me too,” you breathe, cupping the hollows of his cheeks. “Maybe we’re not so smart after all.”

“Oh, I’m most definitely a fool,” Viktor says, rubbing his nose along your cheek. His breath comes hot, his stubble scraping your chin. Now you can smell him properly, and indeed, the soap-washed warmth of his skin drills itself into your memory as the finest scent ever to enter your airways.

“I’m certain none of my dreams have done you proper tribute,” he mutters, so close to your lips they brush against each other.

“Would you like to check,” you ask, voice barely there, hands slipping to his belt, “how far off you were?”

“I cannot say no to you, my dear. Ever,” he breathes, stomach hollowing under your touch as you press him onto his back.

Your hands are steady as you undo the buckle, fingers slipping the leather through the loop, the click of metal swallowed in the hush of the room. Viktor lies back, half-propped on his elbows, watching you with an expression that wavers between disbelief and the sharp edge of anticipation. His lips part, breath drawing slow and deep as if he's forcing himself not to rush, not to tremble, not to let this moment slip into some fevered imagining that will dissolve when he blinks.

You press your lips to the taut plane of his stomach, right above the waistband, and he shifts beneath you, muscles flexing, a shiver rippling outward. A slow drag of your fingers down his hips, then the fabric slides past his thighs, pooling uselessly at his knees. He’s flushed everywhere—his chest, his throat, the fine skin stretching across his cheekbones.

He swallows hard. “I—” He stops himself, breath catching, his knuckles whitening where they grip the sheets.

You don’t make him finish. Instead, you lower your head, pressing a kiss to the crease of his thigh, right where the heat of him pulses, where his skin is sensitive and soft, the kind of place untouched by anything but accident or necessity. He makes a sound—barely there, a choked thing trapped in his throat. His hips twitch, like he wants to move but doesn’t dare.

You let your tongue trace the line of muscle, tasting the salt of his skin, pressing your lips there until his breath turns uneven, his chest rising and falling like he’s run a long way. His thighs tense, his hands flex where they rest beside him, helpless with restraint.

Then your mouth moves, and he keens—head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut. A shudder rolls through him, his body caught between wanting to stay still and the instinct to chase more. His fingers dig into the sheets, gripping, like he’s afraid to touch, afraid to break something delicate and impossible.

His voice comes wrecked, roughened at the edges. “Oh—”

You hum against him, and he makes another sound, weak and breathless, one hand flying to his mouth to bite down on his own knuckle, trying to swallow whatever unguarded thing is threatening to spill free. His free hand finds your shoulder, fingertips ghosting there like he wants to pull you closer, anchor himself to something, someone. You.

His whole body is warm, fevered, getting too close to undone. You, real and here, not scrawled into the margins of his journal, not buried in the dark corners of his mind where want festers and never sees light. No, you are right here, with him, taking him apart piece by piece, and Viktor—brilliant, dreaming Viktor—does not know how to bear it.

He twitches in your mouth, hard and heavy, skin sliding slick through the corners of your lips until you reach the tip and pause, pressing your tongue against the prominent vein of his underside. “I’m a terrible writer,” he chuckles out a wet sound, lifting back onto his elbows. “I was never able to capture the reality of this, ah—” He tries again but falters when you hum at the praise.

Your hands travel up, up from the harsh angle of his hips to his stomach, to his ribs, and Viktor reaches out to meet the tips of your fingers with his. A spark flashes between your damp skin and his when your palms entwine on his belly. You lift your gaze to look at him, and he’s so gorgeous—lips reddened and parted, lids hooded, hiding the dark of his eyes, hair dishevelled. You can almost see the breath leaving his mouth, your name following, a warning, then—

“I’m so close,” he whispers, squeezing your hand tighter. You shut your eyes and take all of him in, trapping his cock until the spasm travels wide, spreading from his stomach down to his abdomen, finally spilling hot and salty on your tongue. A drop squeezes past the prison of your lips, and Viktor wipes it away with his thumb, dazed and blissed beyond anything he’s ever put into writing.

The soft sounds he makes—low and strangled—curl in the air around you, a mix of pleasure and disbelief, as if he can’t quite conceive the feeling overtaking him. His throat expands sharply, breath catching between each exhale, and for a moment, the world narrows to nothing but the sound of his voice and the pulse of his heartbeat.

It thunders in his ears when you kiss the skin around his base, leaving a burning trace of your lips upward along his body until you reach his chin and hesitate. Arms folded on his chest, you wait—not even for a second before Viktor pulls you closer, mouth sealing over yours in a long, languid kiss. Then he says, “No dream of mine was ever fair to you,” affection seeping from every word. “Stay with me.”

You stay, nuzzled into him, the notebook—the awkward catalyst of your connection—resting on the bedstand. And for Viktor, it’s the first dreamless night in ages.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Chickenpox

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get the chickenpox

"Is...Is she wearing oven gloves?"

Millie's the one that asks.

It's the question that's been on everyone's mind since your family arrived at training this morning.

You don't look too different than usual.

You're wearing a little pair of shorts - not teams shorts, just generic shorts that Pernille probably bought while out shopping because she thought they would look cute on you. The shorts are paired with a cute little green shirt with an even cuter cartoon frog on it.

That's normal for you.

It's a cute look and if it wasn't for the spots on your face and the weird oven mitt things on your hands, nothing would have looked out of place.

But you are wearing weird oven mitts and there are spots dotted all over your face.

"Huh?" Pernille looks up from where she's tying her laces," Oh, no. Not oven gloves. They're meant to stop her from scratching. She's got chickenpox."

"No! I don't!" You interrupt before Millie can speak, stamping you foot and puffing out your cheeks defiantly.

Pernille rolls her eyes. "Yes, you do."

"I don't!"

"You see what I've been dealing with? She's just as stubborn as Magda sometimes."

Millie chuckles. "That does not surprise me."

You stamp your foot again. "I'm not talking to you! Meanies!"

Pernille chuckles. "Okay, princesse. Have fun."

You huff. Clearly, you didn't expect that reaction but you still turn on your heel and storm off. You don't get very far, both with your little legs and your small attention span.

You end up standing in front of Jessie, arms already up and she lifts you without even thinking about.

"Jessie," You say," Scratch me."

"What?"

Jessie turns to look at you, properly look at you. She'd been moving on auto-pilot before. She hadn't even realised that you were infested with the pox.

"Oh, you don't look so good, princesse."

"I need scratches," You say," Jessie, scratch me please."

For a moment, it looks like Jessie's going to do as you say. That's why you chose her after all, you knew she would be the most likely to cave to your demands.

For a moment, you're allowed to hope.

But then the unthinkable happens.

Magda appears.

Magda appears and she plucks you from Jessie's arms and takes you away.

You go limp instantly, hoping to make her see you as completely dead weight. You hope she'll put you down but Magda's wise to your tricks now and she holds on tight.

Then you pull out the second trick in your arsenal.

You whine and you cry and you kick and you scream.

The Not-Wolfsburg girls have the decency to vacate the locker room very quickly so it's just you, Morsa and Momma.

"No! Itchy! Itchy!" You insist as Magda holds you despite your flailing.

"Well, if you're itchy, we've got your lotion."

"Noooo! No lotion! No!"

But Pernille's already reaching into her bag for your calamine lotion and some cotton balls.

"Momma, no! No, Momma!"

"I thought you were itchy?" Pernille teases," We'll put on some lotion and there'll be no more itchiness for a little while."

You answer by shrieking and trying to escape Magda's grasp. She holds strong though.

"I know you don't want your lotion," Magda says, calm and collected like she always is," But it'll make you feel better. It's lotion or your medicine. You can choose but you need to choose one."

Your bottom lip quivers as you tilt your head back to look at her.

"Don't give me those crocodile tears, princesse," She warns," I don't care if you're sick, if you continue like this then it's the naughty step when you get home."

You huff dramatically, mumbling something under your breath.

"What was that?"

"Lotion...My lotion, please. No medicine."

Magda and Pernille exchange a smile as Pernille dabs the lotion onto a cotton ball and Magda sets you down onto your feet.

You glance over at the door, wondering if you could bolt out of it as quickly as your little legs will carry you.

But you don't because Magda fixes you with a pointed look and you shuffle glumly over to Pernille, who helps you take your top off and dabs the lotion all over your itchy patches.

You don't want to admit that it helps so you keep your mouth shut as Pernille helps you back into your shirt and Magda retightens your mittens so you can't scratch when you get itchy again.

You kick at the bench in frustration.

"When is it over?"

"Your chickenpox? It'll be over when it's over."

"That's not an answer, Morsa."

Pernille chuckles as she swings you up into her arms and carries you out of the locker room.

"Another week or two, princesse," She says," Just another week or two."

You groan, dramatically resting your forehead on her shoulder. "But that's ages."

"Plenty of time for you to get used to your lotion."

[captain-huggy-bear]

Little Moments

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jack occasionally making more mature jokes cause he's just a silly guy

Summary: Jack finds out he's going to be a dad for the first time, maybe he's a little overexcited aka a collection of snapshots throughout your pregnancy.

Notes: Nonnie gave me the confidence to try writing Jack, I'm hoping it's okay...also the jelly cat mentioned is here

Nappies = diapers

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

When they ask you to take a pregnancy test at the hospital because you've been violently sick for 2 weeks, you scoff. You can't be pregnant because Jack and you haven't been trying and you've been using two forms of contraception. It's nigh on impossible for you to be pregnant, statistically speaking it's just not going to happen.

It's not that either of you don't want children, god knows you do, but you're recently married and you wanted some time to settle into that role and dynamic, the new house as well, without an additional person...especially because you knew without a doubt that once you had one, Jack would want another baby, and another, and another. You'd never be just Mr and Mrs Hughes again, it would be Mr and Mrs Hughes and their children.

It's the amount of care that you've both put in to avoiding pregnancy that makes you so certain you're not. So you expect the test to come back negative.

But, there you are...sat on the edge of a hospital bed, slippers almost falling off your feet because Jack couldn't find yours so he brought you his, staring at a pregnancy test with two clear, solid lines.

Pregnant.

Pregnant when statistically it should be improbably, nigh on impossible. Pregnant when you've been married a month...pregnant because your husband is clearly ridiculously fertile. Of course Jack would be, the amount he wants kids and family, it was probably some genetic advantage. Of course you'd marry the one guy who could knock you up when actively trying not to do so.

You don't look up when he enters your hospital room, arms full of snacks and drinks, cap on backwards keeping his hair out of his baby blue eyes. He looks far too cozy and far too sweet for a man who's about to put your body through some extreme changes.

"So, I got you some M&Ms and a orange juice..." Jack trails off noticing the way you're sat, hunched over, staring at your hands, "You okay, baby?"

"Um, I..."

"What's wrong?" Jack's quick to drop everything on the hospital bed, moving between your legs, hands smoothing up and down your thighs. His eyes dip down to the test in your hands, the two strong lines he can see, so strong that there's very little doubt what the result is. The dots starting to connect for him, you being sick for 2 weeks straight, you being tired all the time, wanting to eat foods you normally wouldn't...the ridiculous amount of sex you had on your honeymoon even though you both were using protection, "Are...are you..."

"Yeah..." You finally meet his eyes, the hopefully little look on his face makes you feel mildly better because you can see how hard he's trying to contain his excitement. It's clear from the way he bites his bottom lip, from the way Jack's fingers grip your thighs to stabilise himself.

"Well, fuck..." Even as he says it there's a little smile starting at the corners of his mouth, teeth starting to show, eyes starting to crinkle.

"Yeah,"

There's a beat of silence. You processing the fact that right now there is a human being growing inside you, part you, part Jack and him watching you for your reaction. Jack can't say he's not nervous, not when you don't look overjoyed and it's that apprehension that has him trying to get a laugh out of you.

"Guess I have strong swimmers, huh?"

"Jack!" You whack his shoulder with your hand and he catches it, thumb stroking over your wedding band even as you glare at him. He can't help but stand a little closer, your legs pushing further apart so he can fit.

"What? C'mon, that's impressive right? Condoms, the pill and you still got pregnant?" He's grinning at you proudly, like it's a badge of honour to have managed to knock you up despite trying to avoid that happening at all costs.

You groan out loud, head falling to Jack's chest, forehead pressing into the centre of his hoodie. His hands come up to the back of your head, stroking over your hair soothingly before trailing over your shoulders, down your back. He's gentle, soft with it and had you been able to see you would have seen his expression shift to one of anxious worry, apprehension at your less than excited reaction.

"A...are you...are you not happy, baby?" He's scared that you'll turn around and tell him you don't want the baby, that this isn't what you want. Sure you've talked about the possibility of kids in the future, but neither of you were expecting to have this happen right now. It's a lot for anyone, especially for the person who's body is doing all the hard work. He'd understand if you weren't happy, even though he desperately wants you to be.

"I...I'm just shocked. I want a baby with you, of course I do, you'd be such a good dad...but, I guess I wasn't planning on it right now and I'm..." You're mumbling into his chest as he strokes down your back, your arms wrapping around his waist tight to give you some sense of comfort as your entire world is turned upside down by the reality that you're going to be a mum sooner rather than later.

"You're?"

"Scared...what if I do something wrong? What if I'm a bad mum?"

"Angel, look at me," You finally look up at him, chin resting on his sternum and he looks down at you like you're talking crazy, big blue eyes wide and honest, "You are going to be amazing. You're going to be the best mum...and we're going to have a baby!"

It's his excitement, the grin that reaches Jack's eyes that has you finally cracking a smile up at him. That familiar giddy sensation of joy filling your chest because you're having a baby with Jack...with your husband and yeah, maybe this is sooner than you would have liked, but you still wanted a baby with him and...and he's so excited and he's so good with kids and you'd give him an entire hockey team of babies if he asked.

"Yeah, I hope they have your eyes." You smile up at him and suddenly all that fear, all that apprehension that you weren't going to be happy about this goes, suddenly he knows that it's going to be all good, all okay.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Mmm, you have such pretty eyes."

"Well, I hope they look like you...my pretty wife....and I'll teach them how to skate, and how to play hockey, oh and take them out on the lake in the summer!"

Suddenly it doesn't feel quite so scary, with Jack rambling about all the things he's going to do with your child and how he can't wait to tell his parents and his brothers. Leaning against him, just looking up and watching how excited he is, puts to bed any fear because you're not doing this alone, you've got your husband and it'll be okay.

Jack's got you. Both of you.

"What's that?"

"The results..." The envelope shakes in your hands as Jack comes in from the cold, taking his hat off and throwing his puffer jacket over the back of a chair.

"The...the sex of the baby?" You'd done a blood test 2 weeks ago to find out the sex of the baby, too eager to wait another 2 months for the ultrasound to be able to tell.

"Mmhmmm...I'm too nervous, you open it!" You shove the envelope into Jack's hands. Even though you'll be happy with a boy or a girl, there's something about the anticipation that has your stomach in knots. Were you going to be like Ellen and have a million baby boys or would you be the exact opposite and only have girls or would you end up having both at some point?

You watch him carefully, hands at your mouth, nervously biting on a nail as he rips open the envelope and pulls out the letter. His eyes scan the text quickly, giving very little away until...until there's a shift, a raising of his eyebrows followed by a bright grin as he looks at you.

"We're...we're having a girl..."

"A girl?"

"A girl!" He's so excited that the letter is dropped to the floor almost as quickly as his own knees fall to the ground in front of you with such a resounding smack that you wince on his behalf. He's pressing his cheek to your tummy in an instant, even though it's not very large yet at all, barely a noticeable bump.

"Hey, baby girl..." You can't help the tears that start to form as Jack starts to talk to your belly, to the baby, to your baby girl, "It's your daddy here...I'm going to teach you how to play hockey and we're going to get you in the NHL, show all those boys what for, right?" Your hands find their way to Jack's hair, stroking through it as he talks to your belly, his arms wrapped tight around your hips.

"Not the PWHL?"

"Uh, we're a family of record breakers, angel. She's going to the NHL like Manon Rheaume and she's going to be there until she retires." He grins up at you, teeth showing as you brush a strand of hair off his forehead and back out of the way.

"What if she doesn't want to play hockey?"

"Then I'll love her anyway..." He turns back to your belly, talking in a soft, sweet tone, "don't worry, baby girl, you can do whatever you want. I don't care if you hate hockey, as long as you're happy..."

You can't help the tear that slides down your cheek because how lucky are you? How lucky is your baby girl? To have a dad who doesn't care if she hate everything he loves, as long as she's happy, as long as she's healthy...god, she's so loved already.

"Okay, don't look, close your eyes!" You roll your eyes underneath Jack's palms.

"You're covering them, why would I need to close them?!"

"Just do it, angel!"

"Fine!" You close your eyes beneath his palms, trusting him to keep you from walking into a wall as he guides you through the house from the living room all the way to wherever his final destination is.

"Lift your foot, baby." He helps guide you up the staircase, hands on your hips that had started to grow wider as you progressed through your pregnancy. He always had a hand on you these days. He was trusting that your eyes were still closed as he ushered you up each step.

When you reach the top of the stairs his hands return to covering your eyes and you shuffle down the corridor until he tells you to stop. You listen to Jack opening a door, probably propping it open before his hands find yours, tugging you forward and to the threshold.

"Okay, open your eyes, baby." You practically gasp when you do, Jack standing proudly in the centre of a nursery. A nursery that was empty all of one week ago, as if he'd somehow clicked his fingers and filled it in an instant.

The walls are a soft pink, stereotypically girlie but you like it, you like that he was willing to make the nursery feminine for your baby girl, just as much as you know he'd change it if your girl decided she hated pink.

The crib is set up by the window, soft curtains diming the sunshine outside just enough. The walls have photos of you and Jack, a few from the start of your pregnancy, your wedding. There are photos of the rest of the family and some empty frames clearly waiting for photos of your baby girl when she arrives. He's even put a few copies of your first ultrasound up.

There's a rocking chair in the corner next to a small bookshelf already filled with books, a space for you to sit with your baby when you're nursing or to read her to sleep when she's being testy. A changing table is already stocked with nappies, baby wipes and powder.

It's sweet and girlish and so so lovely because Jack knows you've been worried about having the nursery done even though you have like 6 months until the baby comes. He knows you've been worried it would get put off because he's away a lot for the season. You'd been stressed that the baby might come without having a space to properly stay.

"How did you..."

"I got the guys to help, last weekend when you went out with my mom. That was a distraction!" He grins at you proud of himself, "Nico, Dawson, Luke, Timo and Jesper came round, we got it all sorted. I didn't want you to be worrying about it anymore, baby."

"Is that...is that why you wouldn't let me in here?" You're feeling teary already, hormones running high and emotions always on a knife's edge. It's so so sweet that he did it, even with months left, the fact he knew it was bothering you and decided to fix it even with his busy schedule? You didn't think it was possible to fall more in love with him, but it seems he's proven you wrong again.

"Yeah, didn't want to ruin the surprise and I had a few more bits to get so it was perfect."

"Jack..." You sigh out at him, face scrunching as you try to contain your tears. His proud little grin drops, Jack thinking he's upset you and maybe he's just made you hate the entire room. Maybe it's too pink? Or not pink enough? Or do you hate the crib?

"...Oh...you hate it?"

"No, no! I love it! I love you!" You step forward quickly, wrapping your arms around him as you start to cry into his chest because how could he think you hate it? It's the best nursery in the world and he's the sweetest husband in the world. You really can't stop the tears and Jack should be used to them by now, you've been such a cry baby since you found out you were pregnant, hormones doing a number on you and making you even more sensitive.

"Oh, okay! Oh, don't cry, baby!" He's smoothing your hair down, trying to calm you, but once the waterworks start it's seemingly impossible to stop.

"It's...it's the...hormones...'m sorry..." You sob into his chest, Jack pulling you tight against him and rocking you side to side to try and soothe you.

"Hey, it's okay, angel," He can't help but laugh because he knows you're not sad now and he knows how easily you've been brought to tears as of late. Jack presses a kiss to the top of your head, staying there for a moment to breathe in the smell of your shampoo.

At least he knows you like the nursery, he thinks, enough that it made you cry.

"God, I love you, baby..." He sighs into your hair and his words only seem to make you cry just a little harder because how did you get this lucky?

"Jack..." You waddle into the nursery, now feeling so much larger than before. Quite positively and obviously pregnant and finding moving harder each month. Even simply things are harder because you have a beach ball in the way, Jack tells you it's cute and that's the only thing keep you from crying about it.

"What?" He looks up from where he's arranging some toys in the corner. He's developed an obsession with picking up any adorable toy he finds out and about to add to the collection. There's even a cuddly Fin the Orca from Quinn sitting on top of the toy box.

"Why is there a demon in the crib?" You're staring at the bright red plushie, with big elflike ears, horns, pointy teeth and a curly q tail. Trying to figure out why it's there in the first place because it certainly wasn't there yesterday.

You rest a hand on your stomach and the other on the small of your back, watching as Jack picks the weird little plushie up and makes it wave at you with its little arm.

"It's not a demon, it's our baby girl's first jelly cat!"

"Why is it a devil? A gremlin?" You're not entirely sure what it's supposed to be, definitely some sort of monster or creature and obscenely bright in it's colouring. You have to admit it is kind of cute...in it's own way...

"Uh, because of the New Jersey Devils, obviously? Why would I get our special girl something boring like a bunny?" He places the little plush back in the crib gently, patting it on the head in a way that is so endearingly sweet that you can't help but smile at him.

"She's going to be a weird kid, y'know that? You're going to make our baby a weird kid." You joke knowing fully well that you weren't actually popular or cool in school. Jack closes the distances between the two of you, leaning down to talk to your belly, like he's been doing since day one. He yaps at your baby girl none stop, whether she can understand a single word he says or not.

"Don't listen to your mother, you're going to be amazing and awesome and totally popular." He whispers to your belly, hands coming to rest on either side gently stroking your stomach over your t-shirt.

"You want our baby to be a popular girl?" You raise your eyebrows at him and he looks at you in horror like that might be the worst fate imaginable, to have a stereotypical mean popular girl for a daughter. You think it's impossible for her to turn out that way with Jack as a dad, with Quinn and Luke as uncles and Ellen and Jim as grandparents. She's going to be surrounded by so many amazing, kind people that if she turns out mean you'll be shocked. If she's popular you know it'll be because she's kind.

"On second thoughts, be a weird kid, baby girl. Be into taxidermy or something." You feel her kick his hand in response and can't help but laugh at the pair because you already know they're going to be trouble. Your kid is going to be just like Jack, you have no doubt, and you're certain you're going to be constantly amazed by them.

"You're ridiculous."

You're sighing heavily, hands firmly on your lower back at the ache there as you look in the kitchen cupboard for something to eat. You feel so uncomfortable, so heavy, so big, so achy. Everything hurts, your belly is so heavy that it forces your back to arch and as much as you love your baby girl, you really hate how she's making you feel. Even most food isn't appetising at the moment.

"You okay, baby?" Jack watches you from the kitchen doorway, leaning deliciously against the doorframe. How does he manage to look so good all the time? It only makes you feel worse because you want him but don't feel like acting on it.

"No...back hurts, belly is heavy, I can't get comfy and I feel ugly and gross..."

"First off, you've never been more beautiful," Jack frowns at you, hating that you don't like yourself at the moment. He's certain you've never been more gorgeous than now when you're carrying his baby, your baby. But, he can see it, the way you stand uncomfortable and in pain, how that must weigh down on you as your body constantly changes. "Secondly, c'mere."

Jack moves to you, standing behind your back with his head on your shoulder. His arms come around your front, hands resting underneath your belly securely and in one slow move, he lifts and suddenly everything feels better, lighter.

"Oh, fuck..." It's like he's taken 10 pounds off your spine and you can't help but sigh and lean back into him, eyes closing at the feeling because you haven't felt this comfortable in a while.

"That feel good?" Jack grins into your shoulder, happy that he's helping, happy to feel the way you relax into him as he takes the entire weight of your belly into his palms. It's heavy and he knows his baby girl has been giving you a world of aches and pains.

"Mmhmmm..." You hum, sighing deeply with each breath as he just holds you like that, letting you lean your weight back into him and feel free for a moment, feel more like yourself.

"Well, let's stay like this for a little then, yeah?" He doesn't try to move away, not after a minute, not after 3 or 5. He holds your belly for near 20 minutes until your feet hurt from standing and even then he's considering when he can do it again, when he can help make this whole pregnancy just a tiny bit easier for you.

"What are those?" You point at the tiny little outfits that Jack is currently folding on the changing table in the nursery. The clothes you doubt are going to fit into the drawers you have because he keeps buying more baby outfits, what seems like every single day.

"These?" He holds a little onesie up innocently, grey, red and black, with a little New Jersey logo in the corner.

"Yeah, those? You do know she's going to grow out of them within a few weeks, right?" You keep telling him not to buy so many baby clothes because she's going to grow quicker than she can wear them, but he seems unable to resist.

"Then I'll just buy more..." He mutters continuing to fold the next item he'd brought.

"Jack..."

"But, they're cute! Look! It's a little New Jersey Devils snowsuit!" He holds up a big puffy snowsuit and you can't help but shake your head at him because the baby is due in June and there's no way she's going to be small enough by the time it snows to even wear it.

"She's going to be too big by the time it snows!"

"But, angel!" He pouts at you so badly that you can't help but laugh. Jack's handome, pretty, adorable, always, but there's something about fatherhood, about his excitement to provide for his growing family that makes him even more adorable.

"Okay, okay...they're cute and if it makes you happy you can keep buying them..." You concede, even as you know half the clothes aren't going to be worn by your baby girl.

"Thank you, beside, if it doesn't fit her it might fit the next one." His comment has you letting out a shocked laugh and you move closer to lean into him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and holding your belly.

"How many babies do you want me to pop out?"

"Mmm, like a whole hockey team? Call the Hughes' Hockey Club? The Hughes Hornets? The Hughes Harlequins?"

"You're planning on killing me with babies?" You're already imagining how exhausting it would be to grow and birth that many babies...you'd do it for him, but...maybe stopping at 3 or 4 or 5 would be better.

"No, sex, obviously." Jack frowns at you and you gasp at his commentary, whacking his chest with a free arm until he grasps it and pulls you close.

"You're such a dick!"

"Hey, you love this dick." He smirks down at you, pressing a kiss to your hand.

"Jack!"

You're exhausted, 24 hours of labour has made it's mark on you. Your skin is ashy and sallow, dark bags under your eyes and sweat wetting your hair and skin to such a moistness it almost seems like you've just come out of a shower. But, you're beautiful to him, laying there with your baby girl in your arms, letting her nurse from you like that.

He's in awe of the way you shift her so naturally against your chest, the way you gentle rub the small tuft of dark hair on top of her head.

"You did so good, baby...look at her, look at you..." Jack is sat next to you on the hospital bed, he's been here for the entire labour, holding your hand and giving you water to drink. He's been amazing, and you know he'll continue to be as you face the challenges of post-birth.

He's gentle as he smooths the hair away from your sweaty face, getting the small strands out of your way as you smile tiredly down at your baby girl before looking up at him once she unlatches from your breast.

"You wanna...wanna hold her?" Your voice is raw, exhausted but no less sweet for it and Jack can't help his enthusiastic nod, arms already in position to take her like he practiced at home. His mum and dad giving him a run down with a teddy bear on how to properly hold a new born. At the time it had felt silly, now he's glad for the confidence it has given him.

You transfer your perfect little girl into his arms, sitting up a little more and shifting so he can sit with her more directly next to you. Your head leaning against his shoulder while he cradles her carefully in his arms like the most precious cargo he's ever had.

"Hey, baby girl...it's me, your daddy...God, I've been so excited to meet you. You're so perfect, just like your mommy..." Jack's finger carefully traces her cheek down to her little palm and she grips his finger tightly, trapping it in that notorious baby grip that has his eyes filling with tears, "I love you so much, both of you," He smiles over at you, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead before returning his gaze back to his daughter.

She doesn't even have a name yet, but he loves her so much already. He knows he'd do anything for you, for her and that's both terrifying and uplifting. To love someone so much you'd risk it all, do anything to keep them safe and happy and healthy.

"She has your eyes," You smile up at him, comparing his baby blues with your daughter's own as she yawns in his arms.

"She has your nose, angel."

"You think?" You squint at her, trying to tell if that really is your nose developing or Jack's more button one...it's hard to tell when she's this small, this young.

"Mmm, poor kid." Jack teases you, grinning, full of excitement, happiness, contentment. His wife leaning against him, his new baby girl in his arms, a sense of humour coming back now you're not constantly carrying around an extra weight.

"Hey!"

"I'm joking, she's beautiful just like her mommy." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh into it, letting the tiredness take you knowing that Jack's got you, he's got you both.

[imtryingbuck]

Unwanted pt two

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!fem!Reader

Summary: having a mate but you not being theirs is rare, very rare. Y/n is that unfortunate omega. Could she still find love and happiness?

Word count: 5,128

Warnings: angst. unrequited love. Omegaverse. swearing. homeless reader. money issues. Steve’s a bit of a dick. fluff. 

Part 1

Masterlist

He watched as her body got smaller and smaller as she made her way through the crowd until he couldn’t see her anymore or even catch her scent carrying in the wind.

As he made his way back to the tower all he could think about was her, his mate that couldn't possibly be his mate, he knew that they only get one mate in their lifetime and he already had his. Due to what Hydra did to him he know longer remembered what his mate smelt like or felt or how she sounded, and for the longest time he couldn’t even remember what the feeling felt like when he first laid eyes on his mate but then he met Y/n, then he felt it, the tingly yet burning sensation coursing through his whole body, the way his brain turned to mush as she stood in front of him, the overwhelming need to protect her and show her that he would be the best Alpha.

The sun had long gone down as Bucky stared at himself in the mirror, his shirt off and his eyes burned a hole in his scars where flesh meets metal, it wasn’t often that he would look at himself in the mirror but when he did he would silently call himself horrible names, yet tonight he was wondering how Y/n would react to them, would she be disgusted? would she run away and never want to talk to him again? or would she be kind? tell him pretty lies about how the scars are beautiful?

Having had enough of seeing his reflection, he threw on a shirt and made his way to the gym as sleeping was the last thing on his mind, he lost track of time as he took all his frustration out on the punching bag.

"Buck? Hey what are you doing in the gym at... three in the morning? Bucky?"

Steves voice startled him. “Shit sorry, what did you say?" Even when the blond repeats his question Bucky doesn't register his words, his mind was still on Y/n and everything that came with her. Her smile was embedded within in mind, the slight bounce she had when she was waiting for the shop owner to come behind the counter to get the trolley off her, her laugh, her eyes, her nose, her lips... just her. She had completely consumed his every thought the moment he laid eyes on her and spending the day by her side didn't help either. "I think I found my mate" unceremoniously cutting his best friend off, Bucky frowned at waiting for some form of response.

"Buck, Dot was your mate and she's gone.”

"I know okay I do but-but this girl I mean she's taken over my mind man!"

Steve lips pulled sideways as he nibbled on his inner cheek trying to think of the best way to respond to his best friend. "We only get one mate and sadly ours are gone, I wish we had that chance in this life but it doesn't happen like that.”

"B-but what if the moon goddess was wrong? Or what if Sharon's your ma-"

"Don't be ridiculous Buck." Steve barked out a laugh. "She's just someone I'm sleeping with.”

"She doesn't think that..."

"She knows that.”

"No she doesn't and you know that, she actually believes you're mates and that's why she's always begging you to bond with her.”

"Look, what's between me and Sharon or all the other women I'm seeing has nothing to do with you.” The blond snapped.

Rolling his eyes he sighed. "I know and I'm not bothered about that but maybe this omega could be mine I might be luck-"

"Bucky there's no way that it could possibly happen okay. We only get one mate.”

He knew that, of course he knew that, but he wanted it to be wrong. "Peggy bonded with Dan-"

"Don't say his name James!” For the second time in five minutes Steve snapped at him. “He wasn't her mate they just bonded because they were both lonely.”

"But maybe, right?" He had to admit that he was embarrassed himself by hearing the desperation in his voice but he just couldn't help it. He wanted his longest friend, his confidant, the only person he trusted to run in to battle with without being told what or why they were fighting to tell him that maybe just maybe he was lucky enough to get a second chance at happiness. But seeing the bored expression on said man's face and the slow motion of his head shaking made Bucky's heart sink.

Of course out of the two of them he wasn't going to be the who got that happiness or that sense of completion that came with having a mate. He was the bad one, the assassin, the former Winter Soldier and Steve was the good one, the one who jumped on a grenade at boot camp, Americas golden boy.

Wishful thinking that he could be lucky.

"You should tell Sharon that your just stringing her on before it's too late." he mumbled before leaving the gym going to his room and having a shower, getting into his bed once cleaned and dried.

Finally falling to sleep he allowed himself to dream of the woman who he wished he was lucky enough to call his mate.

At the end of every month Y/n went to all of her jobs and waited patiently to be paid, smiling thankfully, saying her thanks before doing her job. Finishing her last job of that day she sat in an empty alleyway counting the money she made from that month, she sighed at seeing how little she had left after paying Bucky back for the meal and a little extra for his help with her paper rounds.

She knew that he said he wasn't expecting or wanting anything in return but she didn't want him thinking that she was using him. He didn't need to be worrying about her or wasting his money on her, she wasn't anything to him, she wasn't his responsibility or omega. She was no one. A nobody in the eyes of the world.

And that's how it had been for most of her life.

Making her way to the hotel knowing that Jenny was on, she ran in to ask for an envelope she placed the money inside before running back out the building and made the trek to the tower making herself smaller and less visible to the crowd around her.

Finding herself finally outside the doors of the tower she slid her shoes off ignoring the questioning looks she got from those around her she made her way over to the reception desk. "H-hi, can you pass o-or make sure that Mr Bucky gets this, please?"

"Sure or you could take-" Y/n cuts off the young woman sitting just behind the large welcome sign.

"No. Sorry, c-can you just do it please?"

"Okay, sure I'll make sure he gets it."

"T-thank you"

"Do you want to leave your name?"

"No, thank you. Bye"

Rushing back out as the judgemental stares got too much for her, she made her way back to the alleyway she had been calling home for the last few nights.

Bucky was sat listening to Sam's rambling about something he wasn't paying attention to when a soft voice called his name from the doorway to the common room. "Yeah?"

"I was asked to bring this to you" she said handing over the envelope before nodding politely and leaving.

"What is it?" Sam questions eying the envelope.

"I don't know" his frown deepens when he pulls open the top flap and sees money. No note to suggest who had sent it. "It's-" and that's when it hits him. His - not his - omega had not only come to the tower where he was but had also paid him back even when he told her he didn't expect anything back.

"It's what?"

"N-nothing, be back in a minute" Sam sat puzzled but shrugged and turned his attention to the screen trying to figure out what was happening in the scene.

Bucky rushed down the stairs as the elevator was taking too long for his liking, stepping out into the lobby his insides tingled with excitement and familiarity when he caught the remnants of her scent still lingering the air. He knew it was a long shot when he looked outside in hopes of finding her still at the compound but he still went and checked. He headed straight to the hotel where she worked out in hopes of finding her there.

"Hello welcome to the Kingsmill Hotel how many hours or days do you-"

"Do you know Y/n?" He interrupted the beta sitting behind the desk filling in a crossword puzzle, looking rather bored as she did so.

Jenny's head snapped up at hearing her friends name coming from a strangers mouth. "How do you know her?”

"We met at the tower-"

"She really was there?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. What do you want with Y/n?"

"She gave me some money when I told her I didn't want it"

"Right" Jenny said slowly.

"And I would like to give it back to her, is she working?"

"No." Checking the time on her watch "she'll be finished with her jobs for the day, it's Thursday isn't it? She'll be in the alleyway between Smiths and that bike shop, do you know the one?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so.”

"She'll be there for the night.”

"Okay, thank you" his knuckles taps against the desk in two quick successions making his way to the sliding doors when his name was called behind him. "Yeah?"

"Be good to her, please" Bucky's feet falter slightly hearing her words, he manages to nod his head giving her a half smile and leaves.

Pulling out the dinted tin of baked beans from her dark green backpack that probably only had a few more months to a year left in it until it would finally make its way into the dustbin, she opened the lid with a sigh at the idea of having to have cold baked beans once again but she couldn't exactly waste her money on a warm meal. She needed all the money she had.

Wiping down the plastic spoon she had, she begin to dig in when she smelt the familiar scent coming from down the end of the alley.

"Y/n?" Bucky's soft voice sounded as his footsteps grew closer.

"Bucky? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I told you that I didn't want anything in return, so please take this back.” He said as he handed over the envelope. "Please take it back Y/n.”

"I can't.”

"Why can't you?"

"Because I'm not your responsibility.”

"What?” Yes she was right, she wasn’t, much to his disappointment. “Y/n please stop being a pain in my ass and take the money.”

"Fine!" Taking back the envelope with a huff, stuffing it in her backpack.

"Now come on, you're coming with me.”

"Excuse me? No I'm no-"

"You are, there's plenty of room in the tower and Tony wouldn't care.”

"I-I can't. Okay I can't, I'm fine where I am.”

Bucky sighs at how stubborn she's being, first the money and now refusing to let him give her a roof over her head, a warm soft bed to sleep in and hot food in her belly even if it was only just for a few nights and then him trying to convince her to stay longer after that. Crouching down to her level, putting his left hand on the ground so he didn't fall. "Why can't you?"

"It-it doesn't matter."

"Please Y/n, let me help you please.” He practically begged.

"Why? I'm a nobody. I'm not your friend. I'm not your omega. I'm nothing so why bother helping me? There's plenty of other lost souls out there if you're so desperate to help someone, go and help them!"

He frowned. He knew she was right about her not being his omega despite him wanting that fact to be true and she wasn't a nobody, she mattered to him and to Jenny. "I... why do you have to be so stubborn for?"

"Why do you?” It’s not the first time that he’s been asked why he’s stubborn, maybe that’s why she’s his mate. “Why can't you just let me be? I've been doing just fine on my own"

"You're homeless!" He snapped, instantly releasing a stuttering breath once he let those words slip out.

"Yeah because I was kicked out of my community because of your friend." She snaps back quickly. "Blond, blue eyes?" Y/n explains seeing his confused look.

"Steve? What's Steve got to do with this?"

"He's my alpha, but l'm not his omega so when I was sixteen I was kicked out of the community for being unloveable. Him and his beta will be at the tower right? So I can't-I just can't go there with you Bucky. Look I'm sorry for snapping at you l'm tired and hungry and I just wish to be left alone.”

That loud cracking sound wasn’t thunder, no it was his heart. Of course her mate is Steve, good ol’ Steve, the one that everyone loves and trusts, the one that can kick a woman out of his bed as soon as he’s finished and they come crawling back again when he wants them, the one who is sleeping with his dead mates niece. Of course her mate just has to be his best friend, his brother. Of course the Gods are punishing him for what he did, for what he had no control over, of course. Yet, just like she is, he’s stubborn so therefore he isn’t backing down so easily.

"I have an apartment you can stay at, it's not much but it's better than this alleyway or the tower. An-and before you say no, just know that I only stay there when Tony is being a dick with me, it's somewhere safe for you to stay and it's warm and you don't have to worry about payments or anything because Tony pays for all of the apartments and we don't have to pay him back.” He rambles, trying to say anything in hopes of convincing her to stay at the apartment he hardly stays at. 

"I... I can't-"

"You can, doll you can. It's either the apartment or the tower but it has to be one of them because I'm not leaving you here.”

Mulling over his proposal for a few minutes weighing out the pros and cons, yes it would nice to finally be out of the cold even if just for a day or two and the idea of being able to get a nice shower was very appealing but then she would be having to rely on Bucky once again, he's already helped her out twice - helping her with her paper rounds and then buying her some food - but this was too much, she would never be able to pay him back. "I-I can't Bucky, I'm okay I promise.”

"You’re not okay Y/n, it's getting colder at nights now.”

"I-Bucky I won't be able to pay you back.”

"I don't want you to pay me back, as long as you're safe that's all that matters to me."

"B-but... okay but only for a couple of days.”

"A couple of days" he repeated whilst trying to force the large smile off his face.

Showing her around the small place he was glad that he had brought some food for the place a few days before and cleaned up the takeaway boxes that he, Steve and Sam left from the weekend prior. He told her that she could sleep on the bed and that he had never slept in it before admitting he chose to sleep on the floor.

Y/n moved slowly around the apartment, the last time she stepped foot inside of one was two years ago when Jenny and Opal made her stay with them for a week when New York had a bad snow storm and even then she stayed in the corner of their apartment to scared to disturb or touch anything. "A-are you sure about this Bucky?"

"Of course I am.”

"What do you want in return?" She asked sceptically, even though he already told her he didn't want anything from her most alphas didn't do anything for omegas that wasn't theirs for free and especially not out of the goodness of their hearts.

"Just a friend, that's all.” His lips curved upwards just slightly.

"A friend? Nothing more, right?"

“Nothing more I promise. Plus you have all them deadly diseases so.” Both laughing at the reminder of her failed attempt to scare him away.

"Nasty ones remember!"

"Super deadly ones that you don't remember the names of.”

"That's very true.” Smiling softly at him she whispers. “But I-I would like to be your friend Bucky.”

After a couple of days of Y/n being at Bucky's apartment and him showing up both days just like she made him promise he would, a couple of days turned into a week, a week turned into two and now four months after that evening in the alleyway where he had begged her to come with him, they were both living together. Bucky 'moved' back in after Y/n said that the only way she would continue to live there is if he moved back in so obviously he agreed.

In those four months Bucky found himself excited to go home, home, he couldn’t recall the last time he ever called the place that or even if he ever did, but that’s what it was now, it once was cold and dull with the bare minimum of furniture then after two weeks of Y/n living there he went out and got everything they would need to make the place homely, even getting candles that reminded him of her scent.

They both took it in turns to care for the other at night when their sleep had been interrupted by nightmares, both embarrassed the first time it happened and woke up to find the other one sitting in front of them coaxing them to wake up and promising that everything was fine.

The first time Y/n saw Bucky’s scars he couldn’t tell whose cheeks were redder, his or hers, he’d gone on a run and when he came back he didn’t think twice when he removed his shirt as he made his way towards the bathroom, literally bumping into her as she was coming out of the room. He apologised profusely, worried that he had scared her in some way, whilst she tried so hard to tear her eyes away from his chest and abs, and became what he thought was a stuttering mess. He saw her eyes flick to his scars quickly but he saw no sign of disgust or pity, he couldn’t tell exactly or even if she had any thoughts of them.

One night around about two months into them living together he had gained the courage to ask her about how she came to be homeless, and to his surprise she told him. He sat there feeling all types of emotions, mainly anger, anger at the Gods for giving her a mate that wouldn’t be hers, anger at her father, anger at her community for kicking out a sixteen year old with nothing to her name and a poxy ‘good luck’. He listened to her every word as she retold the story of how she first met Steve, he wanted to be sick, he couldn’t fathom the feeling that she must of felt knowing that her mate had been right there, right there with another woman, a woman who to Bucky had nothing on Y/n.

On the same night she asked him if he had ever found his mate, and he found himself telling her everything from how he met her, her name, how the feeling felt when their souls connected, how she went to bed one night and passed away as she slept - he told her that he ran all the way to her home, waking up her parents and barging into the home and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, he was the one that found her, he felt their bond break and couldn’t understand why she would break it, but he knew, he knew that something wasn’t right, and so he ran, he ran as fast as he could despite being in agony which only got worse as he got closer to her home.

He didn’t know why, because it wasn’t like she asked, but that same night he kept talking, and telling her about Hydra and the things that they did to him and what he did for them. Trying so hard to explain that he didn’t want to do it but that he had no choice, he didn’t want her to hate him or to be scared of him. When she apologised, his heart stopped, he thought she was apologising and then going to say that she couldn’t live with him anymore, but she didn’t say that, no she apologised and gave him a hug which Bucky swore he was going to melt if she kept her arms around him any longer yet finding himself clinging to her when she tried to pull back.

Three months in, Y/n came home crying, the second Bucky heard her sniffling he dropped his phone on the floor and jumped up off the new and comfortable sofa he had recently brought and ran over to her watching as she struggled to get her shoes off. The feeling to protect her was overwhelming as he pulled her into his arms after he asked “who hurt you?” but she didn’t respond, she just fell into his strong chest and soaked his freshly cleaned shirt with her tears. After nearly twenty minutes she began to calm herself down and explained that she bumped into her oldest sister, they cried and held on to each other, her sister told her that their father had died and that their mum hadn’t stopped trying to find her, she told him that her sister had begged for her to come back to the community even if it was for a few hours so she could be reunited with their mum. Y/n explained that she couldn’t, and promised that they’d see each other again. Bucky just held her as she spoke, his heart aching for his omega, and when her words started to slur he picked her up and carried her to bed.

He sat on the sofa wondering what he could do to help his omega when her phone that Tony had brought her started ringing, answering it before his brain could even catch up with his actions. The next day he told Y/n that she wasn’t going to work and that she was finally having a much needed rest, he actually frowned as she just said “okay.” because normally she would argue with him. She had noticed that he kept checking his watch every couple of minutes before eyeing up the door, at eleven there was a soft knock at the door which Bucky told her to answer, and when she did her mum and sisters were standing there.

He watched as his omega was reunited with her family with a sense of pride and happiness, after introducing himself to them and getting them drinks he offered to leave them alone for a bit but found himself stuck when Y/n’s hand grabbed his and begged him to stay. He listened as Y/n told her family how she had been - noticing that she wasn’t telling the whole truth but he understood in a way why she didn’t, he laughed when her mum told him stories of a young Y/n - laughing more when he noticed her cheeks getting redder and redder.

When it was time for them to leave but not before promising that they would see each other again, Bucky was in the kitchen cleaning the dishes from dinner he turned around to find Y/n standing there pulling at the sleeve of her - his old - jumper, before he could say anything she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his torso, thanking him for everything then standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his cheek.

He stood there for nearly half an hour with a dopey smile on his face.

"Doll can you get the door please?"

"Of course" opening the door she sees Steve and Sam standing there. "H-hi."

"Hey, is Bucky here?" Sam asks smiling.

"Yeah, come in. Bucky you've got visitors.”

Bucky pops his head around the corner and sees his friends, he notices the way Steve looks Y/n up and down and instantly hates it. He knows that Steve and Sharon haven't been seeing each other anymore since the latter walked in on him with an omega she introduced him to, having sex. And the worst part about it for him is that the real alpha to his doll is his best and oldest friend and the way said man is looking at her makes him want to attack him. "Hi guys."

"Hey. Hi pretty girl, I'm Steve" Steve greets Y/n, Sam's the only one that notices the twitch in the brunettes cheek.

"I know who you are.” She says with a hint of sarcasm in the voice, turning to the brunette she smiles causing his heart to squeeze. “Bucky I'm going to work, I'll see you later.”

Bucky bites on his bottom lip to stop him from smiling at her reaction to Steve's clear attempt at flirting. Instead of responding to her he nods and tells the guys to get comfortable before following Y/n outside in the hallway. "How are you? I know it can’t be easy to be around him.”

"He may have been my fated mate but he isn't my chosen one.” She shrugs as she pulls her new backpack that he brought her when her other one succumbed to its early death, up on to her shoulders.

"Oh… w-who is then?"

"You. See you later Bucky.”

It was only until she was outside where she realised what she had admitted. Her cheeks turning bright red instantly.

Kicking a stone lightly down the street she shook her head feeling stupid for what she had said, she had grown used to having a place to call home - a place with him, a place where she feels safe and comfortable and now she ruined it. She's ruined the only good thing she had in her life all becu- "Y/n! Doll! Y/n.” Turning around she sees Bucky running towards her. "D-did you mean that? Y-you really want me to be your chosen mate?"

"I-I'll move my stuff out toni-"

"No no no, did you mean it? Be-because you're mine.”

"R-really?"

"Yes, l've known since the day I met you in the tower.”

"You're my chosen mate Bucky, I don't feel anything for blon-“ Bucky cuts her off by pressing his soft plumb lips against hers. Both signing in content at the feeling of their lips connecting.

Reluctantly pulling away from her, he leans his forehead against hers both sharing shy smiles. "I'll see you after work, I'll pick you up and I'll do us dinner a-and we can watch a movie? How does that sound?"

"T-that will be perfect Bucky, I'll see you later.” Only leaving after Bucky kisses her one, two, three more times.

The two alphas smirk at the third when he gets back into the apartment that once was bare and cold turned into a full and warm home that he was proud to share with his omega, he has a love-struck expression on his face, and he doesn't even bat an eye at their teasing.

True to his word Bucky goes to pick her up from her from work where he shyly admits that he burnt the dinner he was trying to cook, he promised her that he would take her to a restaurant, he understood why she tensed up at the idea of going to a restaurant so he quickly says that maybe they could get a pizza instead.

And that's exactly what they did.

Sitting on the couch they laughed at what the actors on the screen were saying, the rain starting to come down heavily batting rhythmically off the windows, sharing delicious pizza - both thought that nothing could possibly make that night any better than it already was.

"Y/n...” He starts to say but finding him tongue tied when she looks up at him, taking a deep breath before whispering. “I-I love you, y-you don’t have to say it back if you d-don’t fe-“

"I love you too" she smiles up to him, and though his heart soared at hearing those words coming from her lips he couldn't help but chuckle.

"What?"

"You've got tomato sauce on your cheek.”

After the confession everyone noticed that Bucky had a skip in his step, he no longer gave people his infamous death stare, he was happier than they had ever seen him before. “Steve what’s up with him?” Nat whispered as the team watched Bucky help Wanda bake cookies.

“I… I don’t know.”

“It might be that omega we met.” Sam commented, watching in fascination as Bucky sang along with Wanda.

“What omega?” Tony asked.

“The one that was here at the tower, you know the one that Pepper chased after?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah I think so.”

Steve started chuckling softly and shook his head. “The last time I saw him this happy was when he met Dot, she was his mate.”

“But-“

“I know, I know.” The blond cut Nat off. “But he’s gotten lucky, he’s been given another chance at happiness.”

“If anyone deserves it, it’s him.” Tony mumbled. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Though if anyone tells him I said that I’ll just deny it.”

When the team met Y/n Bucky was nervous because Steve was going to be there, she reassured him that nothing or nobody was going to take her away from him, and she was right, she shook hands with the blond and felt absolutely nothing, she didn’t get that feeling or heard her insides screaming ‘mate’ as she walked into the room.

It wasn't long after that the team met the sole source of Bucky’s happiness that they both wore the mark on the left side of their necks showing the world that he was hers and she was his.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77 | @buckitostan | @casa-boiardi

[satorusugurugurl]

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie!

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor, will you get to see the goods, or was it just a rumor? Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,457

Warnings: language, smut, sixty-nine, pinv, safe smut, condoms

A/N: I’m having so much fun with this series!! It makes me giggle! I loooove streamer!Gojo so much! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Four

Gojo impatiently tapped his fingers against the Love Hotel receptionist's desk counter. He pushes his dark sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and waits for the girl at the counter to give him the key card to the room he had bought. However, she keeps staring at him. Every once in a while, she glances back at him from her computer screen. She was trying to figure out where she had seen him before but couldn’t quite place it.

In her defense, it was hard to recognize him as his online persona, which was typically half naked, when he was fully clothed.

“I’m sorry, but you look so familiar.” She questioned, handing him a form to sign that you both wouldn’t be breaking any of the equipment or the toys within the room. “Have I seen you before? Have you stayed at our establishment before?”

“Nope!” Gojo quickly signs his name at the bottom of the dotted line. “Never stayed here.” He said that he had never stayed at a love hotel. This was his first experience.

“Huh,” the receptionist eyed him, glancing at his scribbled name, “I would say you have one of those faces, you know, like a generic guy. Someone I see all the time that comes in here. But I’m sorry if this comes off too strong—” She bit her lip, eyeing him up and down, “you are utterly gorgeous, and I’m pretty sure I would recognize you if you stopped in here before.”

Gojo fights the urge to slam his head against the counter repeatedly for them over how long it’s taking to get checked in. He didn’t care about meeting potential fans or conversing with them like Nanami insisted. All he wanted to do was get you up to the room and worship the body. He had been drooling over the night before. The only way that could happen was if the bimbo receptionist would give him the damn keys to the room.

“Look, I’m sorry--could I get the ke—”

“Are you like an idol? Is that where I’ve seen you before?!”

“No, I'm not an idol, the ke—”

“An actor?!”

“No—”

The girl not so subtly unbuttoned the top button to her blouse, pulling it to the side as she leaned over her desk. “Oooh, maybe you should invite me to your room and let me get to know you more personally, Mr. Gojo.” Satoru is two seconds away from losing his shit and getting canceled on the Internet when a delicate hand gently wraps around his arm.

“Baby~ did you get the key to our room~?” your breath is hot as it fans against his ear. The sound of your sultry voice causes goosebumps to rise over his skin as he physically shudders. “I’m feeling a little antsy~” God, he barely knew you and was so bad for you.

The girl behind the counter straightened her flirtatious smile and smacked off her face, replaced with a more professional one, as she buttoned her shirt back up. “Oh, is this your friend?” The tone in her voice doesn't go unnoticed as you catch an eyebrow at her.

“No, I'm his girlfriend.”

The receptionist says no other words as she reluctantly hands Gojo the keys to the room. “I see. I hope you enjoy your stay with us,” Gojo mumbles out a quick thank you before dragging you towards the elevator.

The second you both are inside, and the door is closed. You’re giggling as a Gojo slams his head against the metal wall. “That had to be the most painful experience I’ve ever had with checking into a hotel.” He slams his head against the wall before pushing his sunglasses up, his bangs sticking out here and there. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.” Both hands are behind your back as you give him the most gentle smile you can muster.

“You're welcome; that must be hard getting recognized without people being able to connect you to your streaming channel.”

“Eh, normally, it’s not that big of a deal. It helps that I’m half-naked when I stream. But once in a blue moon, I like that, then recognize me, but they can’t put their finger on it.” With a step, he slowly crowds you into the corner of the elevator's confined space. “You, however, recognize me right off the bat with clothes on.”

An audible gulp is heard as you stare at the gorgeous man crowding you. “I-I’ve been a big fan for a long time—” That was a lie; you and Gojo knew that.

The Greek god of a man standing before you was fucking hot beyond all means, but it wasn’t just his looks or his body that drew you into him. It was his humor, the way he laughed, the kindness he showed smaller streamers to his fans. He could be arrogant and hardheaded, and he had a bit of an ego online, but it didn’t deter you from the fact that he was a good person. That was only one of the many reasons you liked him so much.

The man only took you to Sendai for his favorite dessert, paying for your ticket and the hotel room, but he also made you feel super comfortable talking to him. There was a connection between the two of you, one that probably only came once in a lifetime. One, neither you nor Satoru are going to let slip away.

Gojo’s is an inch touching your lips with his when the elevator dings as you reach your floor. “Alright, here we are.” He clears his throat as he gently takes your hand and his own, leading you out of the elevator to your room.

“Did you get a themed room? I’ve seen some pretty crazy ones on YouTube and stuff.”

“Themed room?” Gojo scoffs, his face plastered with an incredulous smile. “Wow, I can’t believe you.” He swipes the key, opens the door, and reveals an underwater-themed room. Complete with a fish tank wall, with real fish, and glowing blue lights overhead. “You would assume I wouldn’t get a themed room.”

You step inside, face twisting from awe and amazement to pure disgust at the tacky decor. The door shuts behind you as you turn to look up at the man who had purchased this room for the night. His shoulders shake as his lips are firmly pressed together while you fight the giggles rising in your chest.

“I—” you cover your mouth, “don't know what even to say.”

Gojo’s cheeks are flushed as he chuckles softly. “Oh, sweetheart, you haven't even seen the best part yet.” He turns you to face the opposite side of the room, where you see it. A giant clam is positioned against a wall, but it isn't a clam but the bed.

You lose it the second your eyes meet the tacky pillows made to look like pearls. You throw your head back, your face burning, and Gojo joins you in laughter. The hotel staff took the theme of being under the sea to the next level. You laughed until tears formed in your eyes. You found yourself leaning into Gojo as the giggles finally began to subside.

Gojo hummed, his hands gently running up and down your arms as those piercing blue eyes bore into yours. “You’re so beautiful when you laugh.” Putting the tacky room aside, you found all the humor fading into a low burning desire.

”Thank you. I love the sound of your laugh.”

The burning heat filling the room settled in your chest as Satoru continued moving his hands up and down your arms. It was such a simple gesture that it held so much want behind it. The tension between you grew with every passing second, much like the night before, but no screen separated you this time. This was irl, no avatars, or web cameras to hide behind. Behind the closed door of the Love Hotel were you and Gojo Satoru.

You could feel your pulse racing in your neck as you pulled back enough to turn to face Gojo. His cheeks were flushed as his hands slowly trailed down your arms before hovering over your hips for the longest moments and not daring to move as he took a long breath.

”Is this okay? Do you want to do this?” Satoru cleared his throat, eyes darting off to the side. “Because if you’re uncomfortable with this, we can cuddle instead.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth with a nervous chuckle. “We only just met, and I’ll be honest with you. I’ve never done anything like this.”

His concern for your comfort had your heart racing even more. Not only was he funny and hot, but he was also extremely considerate, making sure you were okay with whatever was going to go on. You found yourself moving without hesitation, pressing your chest firmly against his. The feeling of your breast against him had the streamer shivering as you led his hands to your hips, placing them on your body.

”I’ve never done anything like this before, so that makes two of us.” You slowly ran your hands up his t-shirt, fingers grazing over the defined muscles under his shirt before passing his pectoral muscles. “But I feel like there’s this spark between us, and while I’ve never done anything like this before, I’ve never been more sure that I want to keep whatever this,” you gestured between you with your finger, “is going.”

”So does th—“

”That means I want you in every way you’re willing to give.”

With your consent spoken loud and clear, the grip Satoru's hand on himself snapped. His hands moved up, cupping your face as he feverishly kissed you, Eyes shut tight, white lashes twitching as he put everything he had into your first kiss. It was hot and heavy, knocking you back, stunning you for just a second until your arms were wrapped around his neck, kissing back. He pushes you further back until the back of your legs hits the clam-shaped bed.

Satoru breaks the kiss, heaving heavily before he pushes you back against the plump mattress. You’re sprawled out over the white comforter, staring up at the man you had been a fan of for so long. In all of his streams in the past, he was so upbeat, happy, and a total goofball. But right now, as he stands before you, breathing heavily as he tugs his shirt and tossing it to the ground, every fiber of your being is losing itself to the raging kindling inside of you. You didn’t think it was possible to find him more attractive than you did, but seeing this incredibly intimate side of him, you fell head over heels.

Following his lead, you pull your shirt up and off, tossing it at his bare chest, before doing the same with your bra. Seeing Breast in person and not through his computer screen makes Gojo melt. His hands reach out, closing the distance between you before he’s groping your perfect tits. He massages them, palms running over the soft flesh. His fingers gently brush over your nipples, rubbing them in slow circles as they harden under his touch. You arch into him, pressing your breast more firmly into the palms of his hands, making him shiver.

While his cerulean eyes are focused on your breasts, your hands dip down, cupping the tent that was forming in his pants. You could feel his cock as it twitches against your hand as you rub your fingers over the tip, teasing the slit through his shorts and his boxers. The pre-cum smears within the confines of his too-tight undergarments, making him jolt forward, aching for more.

“Mmm fuck.” Satoru, these lips meet yours again in a kiss that takes your breath away. The lingering sweetness of the brown sugar, Boba, you both drink, lingers on his tongue as he flicks it over your bottom lip. He doesn't have to wait long before opening your mouth and welcoming his tongue. The kiss is messy, passionate, and full of nothing but pure lustful need. “You—mmm—” You take his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling it gently before kissing him harder. “Fuuuck, you taste so good~ so sweet.”

“You taste good, too~ but you feel even better.”

Hearing those words leave your mouth almost sends Gojo over the edge. His cock throbs eagerly at your words. But instead of words, you slid your hand into his shorts and boxers, gripping him at the base of his cock before dragging your thumb up and down the underside of his shaft, tracing gently over the veins. Listening to your words would

been easier to do at this point because right now, all of his attention was focused and not blowing his load inside of his boxers.

“Haaah—nnngh.” Satoru’s head falls forward against your shoulder as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him up and down. “Y-Your hand feels so good.”

You giggled breathlessly, biting your lip as you twisted your wrist with each stroke. “My hand feels good, but my mouth feels even better~” his cock throbs hard in your hand, pre-cum dribbling out of his slit as he whines.

“Y-You trying to make me cum? Because if you keep talking like that, I will explode before we even get to that point.” He pressed kisses up your shoulder.

“Then let’s get to that point.” You moan out as his lips and teeth assault your neck with a burning passion. “I wanna taste you; I don’t mean your tongue.”

Satoru groaned, bucking his hips into your still-jerking hand. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard his entire life. With a growl, he rolls you both so he’s lying down, and you’re on top of him. The sudden change of positions makes your pussy throb as he slaps your ass.

“Well, come on, baby, bring that perfect pussy here; sit on my face while you suck my cock.” He slaps your ass again, squeezing the fat of it and making you jump.

“Okay!” You giggle, shifting to the side, pulling your pants and panties off and tossing them to the sand pattern carpet. As you do that, Satoru is beaming as he tugs his pants off, his cock throbbing as it smacks his abdomen.

You settle your legs on either side of his head, gripping his cock, leading it into your mouth. Satoru’s hands were gripping the top of your thighs as you wrapped your lips around his tip. He jerks, jaw clenched as herrs whines, your tongue swirling around his twitching tip. He was so cute, withering and whining underneath you. He had no idea what he was in store for.

That’s what you thought. When, in reality, you had no idea what you were in store for. Taking more of him into your mouth, Satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened, making your eyebrows and it together. Before you could pull off to look back at him, his mouth was on your cunt. His tongue moved up and down your slick folds, laughing at your dripping hole before finding your clit instantly.

“Mhmm?!” a startled gasp sounded from deep in your throat as Satoru chuckled into your dripping sex. The confusion was evident in your voice as your eyes rolled back into your head. “M-mnnngh.” Your hips rocked against his eager mouth as you struggled to keep up with his pace with his cock in your mouth.

“Heh~” Satoru scoffed, laughing his tongue up and down your folds again before flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit like a madman. “What~ you thought I was a virgin or something? That’s just because I like the feel of your hands on my body. I’ve never done this before. Is that why you’re making such shocked sounds? My tongue feels that good~?”

“Hmmm!” Your eye shot open as his lips sealed around your clit, drawing out a louder moan from deep in your chest.

“Oh yeah~ I’m experienced. I hope you’re ready because I’m gonna give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life.”

You didn’t doubt him for a single moment. The way he eagerly laughed and looked at you, how his hands tightened, gripping you as hard as he possibly could, holding you against his mouth, and having him so eagerly challenging you to focus on him. It seemed like every time you tried to take him back into your mouth to buy your head up and down, attempting to make him lose all control. He would one-up you.

He slid his tongue inside of you, pressing his muscle against your g-spot on his nose, and rubbed against your click back-and-forth, not more and more moans from your throat. Each time you try to bob your head up and down, increase the speed of his time inside of you, laughing and looking at your wet walls. Each time he did that, you would lose your concentration, your movement ceasing as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

Satoru loved the way your body would stiffen, how your breath would hitch your throat, and how the muscles in your thighs tremble with each flick of his tongue. You were so responsive to his touch. He could get used to eating you out like this. It wasn’t just the sex it was you. Something about you had his heart fluttering, racing like a hummingbird's wings. He found himself wanting to get to know every part of you. Including you’re wet, throbbing sex.

“Fuck~ you taste so fucking good,” Satoru sighed, pulling away from your sex. “you’re so sweet, almost as sweet as kikufuku; there’s only one difference.”

You pulled off his cock, replacing your struggling mouth with your hand, jerking him off. “Oh yeah, and what’s that~?” The man underneath you moaned, bearing his face further between your legs.

“You’re not cream filled~” He gives you clit a touch suck with a smirk. “Not yet, at least.”

His words shake you, muscles in your legs trembling under his skilled tongue. You take him back into your mouth, sucking just as eagerly as he was, but his tongue is far too talented. Tears well in your eyes as soon as Gojo rubs his face back and forth, rubbing your clit and stimulating you and all different kinds of ways. You pull off his cock, accepting your defeat.

“Ahh~ haaah~ fuck I-I’m gonna cum—”

“Mhmm~ mhmm~ mmm!” Satoru hums in agreement, his tongue flicking your click faster before he seals his pretty lips around it, sucking it as hard as he can, trying to pull you over the edge. “Come on, baby~ cum for me~!”

That was all that it took him sucking, and his eager homes pulled you down over the edge into a mind, shattering orgasm. You scream louder than you had ever screamed with a partner. As you slick coat his tongue, Satoru doesn’t stop. He moves faster and harder eagerly, licking up everything you had to offer him, extending your mind-blowing orgasm. He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking above him. Even while sucking, his tongue continued gently lick your folds clean before he peppered kisses along your inner thighs as you struggled to escape his delightful tongue.

You collapse, resting your head against one of the pearl-shaped pillows as Satoru licked his lips clean. His cheeks are flushed as he grins down, taking the sunglasses off the top of his head and resting them on the nightstand next to the bed. He looks like an angel from where you’re lying and in a post-orgasmic haze. His being an angel seemed fitting, saying that he almost ended your life with how hard you came.

“G-Give me—” you hold up one finger in front of you, panting heavily, “one sec and I-I’ll get you off.”

Strong hands gently rub at your aching thighs. “You don’t have to finish doing that. Do you wanna keep going? Once you come back to earth?” You grunt with a nod, holding a thumbs up as he lies beside you.

As your heart rate slows and your blood stops pounding in your ears, you turn on your side, staring up your favorite streamer, who had been a stranger until yesterday and had selflessly taken you out on a date. He was kind, handsome, and funny on top of everything else. Gojo was your type; you couldn’t wait to see where this new relationship went.

While you stared into, Satoru grinned gently, cupping your cheek and one of his hands while the other wrapped around your body, pulling you flush against his bare chest. He took a moment to admire your beauty, flawless skin, beautiful hair, the way your eyes glitter, and the blue lighting of the room. You were stunning, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his entire life, but it wasn’t just your looks he was enchanted by.

It was how you did a happy dance when you ate the kikufuku, how you left wholeheartedly when you stepped into the hotel room. It was how you were looking at him right now.

This wasn't a one-time thing for him. He wanted to see where your future took you both. He wanted all of you. That had him leaning in, closing the inch of distance between your mouths, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, almost hesitant, like you were testing the waters of a pool in the summer.

You both melt from that single kiss that wasn’t driven by pure lust but by curiosity instead. Satoru pulled back, grinning down at you, pressing his forehead against yours before kissing you again. This kiss was more passionate, his lips moving against yours feverishly. As you turned your head, your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss by gently sliding your tongue over his bottom lip.

The second Satoru opened his mouth to you, your tongues moved against one another, allowing you to taste yourself as Satoru reached for the bowl on the nightstand blindly. When he pulled his hand back, breaking the kiss, you noticed he was holding a condom. He swallowed, glancing at the foil packet.

“Oh shit, too small.” He turned around, reaching into the bowl, searching for a condom of the correct size. “Bingo!” He beamed, pulling out a condom in a gold foil and ripping it open with his teeth. You watched as he expertly rolled the condom on with a concentrated look in his eyes before he rolled back onto his side, grinning at you. Do you have a preference for positions?”

”I wanna do it like this.” Your voice was low and soft as you draped your right leg over his hip while your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to continue to stare into his beautiful eyes. “Is this okay?”

If you could hear his heart slamming against his chest, you would know he was more than okay with this position. “Yeah,” he swallowed, “I think it’s perfect.” His left hand rested on your right thigh, pulling you an inch closer to him before his right hand dipped between your bodies, leading his cock toward your wet and twitching entrance. “Are you ready?” Letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, you gave him a gentle grin before nodding.

“I’m ready, Toru.”

Hearing you call him, Toru had chills of excitement running down his chiseled back as he slowly pressed the head of his cock inside of you. “Mmmhm, sweetheart, you’re so tight.” He chuckles before giving you a gentle kiss. “I’m barely inside of you, and you feel so good.” From the way your jaw drops open, you could say the same about him.

He feels so good sliding slowly inside of you, stretching you out in the most phenomenal of ways. It burns, but it burns in the best way. A burn that's left you aching for more of him. You whine, pressing your lips harder against his with a pleased moan as he pushes inside of you until he bottoms out. You both lie there, staring into each other's eyes, breaths combining as Satoru pulls out an inch before slowly sliding back inside of you with a moan.

His thrusts aren’t hard or rough; they’re slow and well-paced, leaving you aching for more of him. While your insides twitch and hug his cock, telling him to go harder to fuck your stupid, he holds himself back. Satoru didn’t want you to think he was just going to fuck your brains out, and that was that. No, he wanted you, your body, and you psussy to know that he wanted you, all of you. He truly meant that he didn’t want this to be your only date; he wanted this to be the first of many.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He growled out against your swollen lips before catching them again with his own. “So fucking pretty, smart, and sweet.’ His fingers dug into the fat of your ass, massaging them as he set a slow pace, gently thrusting in and out of you, his chest pressing against your bare breasts.

“Ah, Satoru~” As he kisses you, your fingers trail up, running through his soft bed and messy hair. Nails gently scratched at his scalp as he continued to slide in and out of you, his low grunts growing louder with each slide in and out of your heat. “Faster~ please, I need more.”

Hips that were moving almost agonizingly slow begin to move a bit faster, both your breathing and breathless moans filling the room that smells like sex. All you can smell is the musky scent of Satoru and clean linen. It makes you feel high as he rocks his hips faster into you with a guttural growl. You softly cry against his lips, tugging his head down, pressing lips more firmly against your mouth.

“Mmm~ fuck you feel so good~ god fuck, your pussy is so tight it feels so good wrapped around my cock like this.”

”Y-Yeah, god, fuck, you keep hitting my cervix.”

Upon hearing his dick was hitting the most sensitive part inside of you, Satoru slowed down just a bit. “Oh, sorry, do you wan—“

You cut him off with another kiss. “I want you to fuck me harder, it feels good.” Bright blue eyes widen before narrowing as he does as you ask, slamming in harder, but not enough to make it painful for you. “Oooh fuck yes, Toru, just like that!” There you go again with that nickname that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart, nngh, you feel so fucking good.” He grunts, pressing his forehead firmly against yours.

“So do you—haaah!” Your words are cut off as Satoru kisses you, moans mingling with each other in an orchestra of pleasure. “Toru~ Toru!” His cock is slamming into you now, drawing out more high-pitched cries from you as his balls slap against your ass, mixing in with the squelching sounds of his cock disappearing inside of you.

“Haah~ mmmhmp fuck yea, say it baby, shit, say my name~”

“Toru~! Toru~! Toru!” Each moan of his name has his cock twitching inside of you, both his hands grabbing either side of your hips as he begins drilling himself inside of you with deep animalistic groans. Ones that would make any pornstar blush, ones that were pushing you close to your sweet release. “I—I’m gonna cum! Ooh fuck me, I’m gonna cum so hard.”

”Yeah~? Me too, baby, I can feel it coming.” Both your walls and his cock, twitch in harmony as your nails dig into his shoulders, your eyes going wide, filling with tears. “Yeah~ that’s it, sweetheart cum for me, cum. all over my big fat cock.” He can feel you before he hears you. Your insides convulse, squeezing around his throbbing shaft, milking him. “Ohh fuck Cumming I’m cummming baby, fuck fuck, fuck!” His whiny breathless moans fan against your mouth as you messily kiss each other as Satoru’s cum fills the condom separating you.

The orgasm is the most intense one you’ve probably had with a partner before. He was leaving you a shaking mess on the clam-shaped mattress. Satoru whines, tailings soft kisses over your cheeks and down your neck as the twitching between you slowly dies. When your walls relax, he gently pulls out of you, sitting drunkenly up, pinching the tip of the condom off and tying it up. The whole time he cleans up, tossing the trash away, he has a goofy, happy grin on his face, his cerulean eyes occasionally darting towards you as he heads to the restroom to fetch you a warm rag to clean you up with.

Much like on the train ride or during your Sendai outing, the silence that fills the room as Satoru gently wipes you clean isn’t awkward. It’s comforting and relaxing, and it feels so natural. Neither one of you has to put on an act around the other; you can sit and be yourselves. Connections like this were rare, and you were lucky enough to find it in each other.

It’s the same comfort that has Satoru’s arms wrapped around you as he stares up at the shell that covers half of the king-size bed. “So, what are you doing this week?’ Satoru probs as his hands gently caress your back.

“I have a couple of classes to attend this week, and I’m probably going to be working on Geto’s logo design.” Satoru hums, pursing his lips together. “So, I’ll probably be at the shop this weekend. I like to be in the amphospeher of the business I'm designing.” His face lights up as he grins sleepily down at you.

”Could I buy you a coffee? Maybe I can take you to dinner? Trust me when I tell you, you’ll need to get away from the shop with the characters working there.”

”Says the half-naked leisure streamer who lives in Geto’s basement.”

Faux shock crosses Satoru’s face as he pulls you tighter against him. “Look at you; you barely meet them, and you’re already talking like you’ve known them for years.” He presses a quick peck to your forehead, winning a giggle from you as you wrap your arms around his waist. “In all seriousness, could I take you out on Friday for a proper date?” Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you nod.

”I would love that.” You both yawn as the bubbling from the fish tanks in the walls lulls you to sleep. Your fans won’t mind you missing a live stream?”

”Mmm,” Satoru turns the fluorescent bright blue lights off, leaving a darker blue light glowing from the tanks as he covers you both up with the cool, crisp blanket. “Yeah, they won’t mind; my fans and community are great.”

“Okay, Friday it is.”

”Friday.”

Satoru repeats with a grin as you both fall asleep, unaware of the thousands of notifications blowing up Satoru’s Twitter, discord, and Twitch accounts. The do not disturb on his phone makes it so none of Nanami’s calls or Suguru’s texts come through. Leaving you both unaware of what was going on until morning. Because the-strongest-streamer was trending online, and the headlines read; “Popular Leisure Streamer Checks into a Love Hotel with His Girlfriend!” Underneath the article was a photo of you and Satoru at the receptionist's desk, where you had just checked in hours before. Everyone knew it was him because he had left his mask on the table at the Sendai shopping center.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

LSIAH Tag List (AGE MUST BE IN BIO):

@witchbybirth @zoeyflower @missmuffinr @kalulakunundrum @matchalatte06 @aussiemeerkat @gojoful @ilovebattison @getoloverr @dottedhalfnotes @sonicsolos @manyno

[lucy-literates]

Hickies - Part 2

A/N: you can read part 1 here

💌 - open

(You had a little giggle, slightly pleased with yourself. You removed yourself from Kimi’s grip so you could make your way to the bathroom. You were in the middle of your skin care routine when you felt his arm wrap around your stomach. He looked in the mirror and jumped back with a gasp. He leaned into the mirror, tenderly touching his neck.

“Amore mio” he said “I think you need to even it out”)

"Kimiiiii" you let out a laugh. "We just went absolutely at it last night, and you don't want a break? You don't want to take the day to go hike or anything?" Kimi gave you a skeptical look, "why would I want to do any of that, when I could just do my girlfriend" he gave you a kiss on the cheek and moved to pull you into him. You wiggled out of the way just in time.

"Not now baby, I want to go on a hike. You can stay here if you would like but I am going to explore. That's what mountains are for". You turned on your heel, leaving him flabbergasted in the bathroom. You were never one to reject him, especially if it included you being worshipped. He was starting to catch onto your little game.

You changed into your fitness outfit, tank top, leggings, and runners. you packed your water bottle, battery pack, and charger, phone, and snacks for the hike. You find Kimi snacking in the kitchen, in his pj's. "I'm heading out now love, I'll be back this afternoon" he walks over and gives you a kiss, "be safe amiro" he mumbles into your lips.

You disconnect from Kimi and walk out the door, closing it behind you. You started on the path towards the trail. It takes you 4 hours to reach the top of the mountain, with rest breaks. Unfortunately, it has rained 2 days ago so, your shoes were all muddy. But, finally, you had reached the top.

Not 5 minutes later did Kimi stumble out from the trees, covered head to toe in mud, but also carrying the muddiest picnic basket you had ever seen. You looked at him and burst out laughing, he trudged through mud, got lost, and still managed to make it to the top of the mountain to have a picnic with you. "You could've asked to come if that's what you wanted" still giggling at Kimi's appearance.

He pouted as he said “I wanted to surprise you”. That’s when you noticed he was wearing nice shorts and a decent t shirt, clothes you shouldn’t be hiking in. He laid down the basket, pulling out a blanket and setting out the food on the blanket. He had packed finger sandwiches, carrot and celery sticks with some dip, strawberries and chocolate, and some soft drink (soda/pop).

You spent about an hour telling stories from your lives away from each other, that team video he did with George, how your friend laughed so hard her drink came out of her nose. Eventually, the picnic was packed up and the hick back down the mountain was made.

After you and Kimi had showered and his muddy clothes were in the wash, you settled down in front of the tv, cussing into his chest. “Thank you for trying to surprise me today” you mumbled, half asleep. “You’re welcome principessa”. He kissed your forehead as you both drift off to sleep.

You woke up in bed the next morning, but Kimi was no where to be seen. You called out for him, no answer. You walked around the house, looked outside the house and tried calling him, only to find that his phone was on the kitchen counter. That’s when you noticed the car you rented, coming towards the house, Kimi in the drivers seat.

He hopped out of the car, grocery bag in hand. “I’ve got a surprise” he told you. He led you over to the couch and sat you down, lifting his hands to your face as he leaned in and tenderly kissed you. You returned the favour, the kiss beginning to pick up speed and need. He pulled away, much to your dismay.

He reached into the bag and pulled out some whipped cream. “Since you won’t even out my neck on your own, I’m going to help you” he said, spraying a dot of whipped cream on his neck. “Care you clean up?” He asked you. You leaned in and sucked the cream off his neck, suckling a small bruise in the process. The rest of the morning consisted of whipped cream, teasing and tender loving. Exactly what you needed for your week away.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! 💌 open

[zepskies]

Hi, how are you?

I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please

Hey, lovely!

I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.

Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.

When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.

But also cautious.

He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.

And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.

That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.

He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.

You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.

You're wonderfully weird.

And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.

Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.

You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.

Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.

He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...

And yet.

He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.

You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).

But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)

It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.

And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.

Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.

Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.

"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.

You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.

"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.

Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.

"They're cute," he adds.

You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.

"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.

"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."

You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"

He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.

"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.

"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy."

"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.

"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.

You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"

He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."

"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.

Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.

Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.

"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.

You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.

"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.

Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.

Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.

It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.

He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.

Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.

There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.

But it's you.

"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.

"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"

"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.

"Thanks," he says.

You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.

Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)

"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.

This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?

You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"

Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.

Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."

"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.

Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.

"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.

You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.

It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.

Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.

When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.

Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.

You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.

You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.

With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.

Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.

He finds that and more when he looks up at you.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.

"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.

You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."

Sam takes you at your word.

AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!

(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)

Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."

Sam Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SW Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @tipthejar

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @violetlilysunshine @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @katherineann83 @torchbearerkyle

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @adoringanakin @sanscas @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev @nix-rose

[bnyf]

fawn over you ♡

yandere hunter x fawn hybrid reader

warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic

authoress note : first post :3 lowkey inspired by 'my sweet bunny cage' manga and i'm planning on making a bunny hybrid one too

his heart almost imploded and gave out upon sighting such a delicate, dainty fawn such as yourself.

little ole you had him in a rhapsodic trance, him whom's nature greatly differed from hers (you).

he, a mere man who's psychological disturbances causes him to hunt and kill. and you, a lovely creature who now gained the attention of a brute man who's main objective was to capture and claim.

the pattern on your skin like pearls, little dots trailing you. so perfect, almost impossible yet here you were.

it didn't help that by the beautiful white lily of the valley flowers surrounded you, like it was a symbol of how fucking perfect and graceful you are. you were ethereal. an angel or a goddess.

and god, those beautiful glassy orbs peaking his way held nothing but the universe and more in them. so innocent. the epitome of pretty and perfect.

he's sorry you had to meet him of all people, someone who'd ruin and corrupt you but he'd also worship you, others may do much worse to you anyway.

his movements were so still that you'd only notice him due to your instinctive feeling of being watched. your tailed and ears twitched.

you shivered, feeling bare and open to such preying eyes with selfish intent behind them.

his eyes held such a mad and malicious look, as if he were some sort of barbaric mad lad. he looks honcho and quite the opposite of you whom had a much smaller and soft physique.

his whole aura wrecked of death, he is, without a doubt, a true blood lusting predator's, a troubled psychopathy who needed to take his frustrations out on poor, unsuspecting creatures.

with that in mind, and thanks to your nimble agility and speed, you darted off before he could even approach you from the shades of the trees only 10 feet away from you.

he'd only chuckle to himself, engulfed by your beauty and elegance, and more than intrigued by the pretty, little doe-eyed fawn hybrid he just had the pleasure to encounter.

sure. you're quick witted. but being quick only gets you tangled up in a trap quicker.

and with that, his infatuation steadily mounts. he immediately started littering the leafy forest grounds in traps ever since that faithful encounter.

you've taken extra precaution after that day, hiding far away from his cabin and even further from that specific meeting sight.

like a lethal game of hide n seek, you both played your parts. and just like that, you started feeling more unsafe and uneasy knowing that he'd set up traps and cameras, watching your every move, both during the day and night.

sure. he had a life outside of this secluded forest he loves visiting. which is the only thing really giving you time to run and hide.

his work life was distressing as a lawyer, it was a very mentally, emotionally and sometimes psychically taxing line of work.

but that don't mean much considering whenever he got time or a day off, whether late night or not, he'd clear out an entire section of the forest with traps and cameras.

and eventually, you run out of both stamina and luck. you become dreary and tired, exhausted from fearing for your life. and your little stalker becomes impatient.

your little game of cat and mice becomes long over due, and sooner or later, you find yourself injured and trapped in enemy's territory.

it only takes 12 hours for him to finally come off work and whatever other things he may be preoccupied with in his life to come get you.

mean time, you kept your wound clean by licking it, fearing what he'll do to you once he gets there.

and boy oh boy, were you shivering when you'd hear the sound of twigs cracking under heavy boots approaching in the darkness of the light midnight. he's here.

you already cried a lot from the pain and realization of your situation but that didn't stop you from repeating the whole process again.

tears already brimming at your swollen, red eyes. the light from his flashlight becoming brighter as he gets nearer, near enough to shine the light directly at you, in your eyes and blinding you from seeing him.

yet he could quite clearly see you, those teary innocent eyes, your wound. every detail up close right in front of him as you lay right in his trap. looking at you with a sinister smile which you cannot see, leaving you guessing what smug facial expression he must have right now.

he let out a feral, maniac laugh.

"my little fawn, you're finally mine."

you had no where to run or hide anymore. grasping onto what little sanity you have now and praying for whatever great deity above to have mercy upon your innocent soul.

what awaited you next was a life of constant torment. the tears run off your chubby soft cheeks, colliding with your skin and the snot in your runny nose made the whole ordeal pathetic and shameful for you.

but to him? it was such an exquisite show! to him... that disgusting crying face of yours was nothing short of adorable.

he grabbed you away, kidnapping you from your carefree life of freedom. the last thing you felt was a prickling sting on your neck before you were enticed with an unknown sleeping drug that took effect instantly.

all the stress and negative emotions that were building up inside subsided as you were knocked out cold, remembering only his footsteps as he carried you to your new home...

the rest of your days were all a painful blur, you were cared for yes but you'd now have shackles placed on your ankles, a big enough cage and a collar. forced to comply to whatever rules he'd put in place for you. punished when disobeyed those rules. dressed to his liking, feed like a child and forced to learn tricks for his entertainment.

for lack of better words, you've been reduced to a pet.

his pet

your leg wound was still healing, which made escaping difficult. worse yet, his home in the city was large and difficult to navigate, with a built in security system that is literally impossible for anyone to get in or out without permission.

"shhhh don't be so scared, you're safe with me, my little fawn," he'd coax, all while keeping you sedated and locked up. you don't know why but for some reason he'd smell strange but also strangely good at the same time. you'd feel a bit oozy when around him, and inhaling his scent was addictive.

that's because his cologne is laced with pheromones and a special drug to get you addicted off him.

but you didn't know that, and you didn't need to know that. your innocent self blamed yourself for becoming addicted to him. he only smiled and hugged you, because he knows you can't think straight every time he's near.

keep this up and he might just send you into heat a little too early. not! that it's a bad thing for him, not that he wouldn't like that of course.

you hated every bit of this. hated him for making you into his glorified object rather than a living being, a person with thoughts and feelings.

but oooohhhh how he loved every second of it, loved dressing you up in all sorts of cute clothing like some little doll, loved pulling your collar when you misbehaved, and absolutely adored watching you get high off him.

the way your nose twitched, and your little tail sweep from side to side, that look you give him cause you're thinking this is all your fault when it's absolutely not.

[mrsshabana]

Hey Mrs.Shabana I just wanna say I really love your work and it’s always been a delight to read. What I would like to request a part two of NTR because not only was it hot but the possible drama afterwards makes me excited and I wish to know what happens next! You don’t have to do it though take your time with everything

𝐍𝐓𝐑 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary After cheating on your boyfriend, Tengen, it's not long before you face the consequences of your actions. But things take an unexpected turn, and Gyutaro couldn't be happier with the results. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, college au, 18+ MDNI, vaginal sex, netorare, cheating. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.4k words

✧:･ﾟ→ Part one

"Aw man, do you have to wipe it off? You look so pretty covered in my cum..." Gyutaro pouts as he hands you a paper towel.

"Yes!" You say, trying to avoid letting it drip into your mouth, "Tengen will be here any minute to pick me up."

Gyutaro rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as he watches you clean up the beautiful mess he made of you.

"Heh yeah, I'm lookin' forward to that," he smirks, imagining the look on Tengen's face when he received the photo he sent of you just moments ago.

Begrudgingly, Gyutaro helps you clean up. Taking the soiled paper towels and throwing them in the garbage bin.

"How do I look?" you smooth out your hair and try to look presentable.

Gyutaro narrows his eyes and looks you up and down, "Looks fine to me," he says as he can obviously see a bit of dried cum leftover in your hair - but purposefully decides not to say anything.

"Ok, thanks," you reapply your lipgloss and straighten out your clothes, "Hopefully he won't notice..."

Just as you begin to feel the guilt seep in, the doorknob jiggles, and Tengen barges into the room.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" He shouts and comes barreling towards you.

Never have you seen your boyfriend so angry, especially targeted towards you. You instinctually go to Gyutaro's side, grabbing his arm and staying close to him.

"What the hell has gotten into you?!" you wail, genuinely afraid and confused. Though Gyutaro is shockingly calm and collected, an arrogant aura emanates from him as he grabs his vape out of his pocket.

"Are you fucking serious? You slept with my roommate!!" Your boyfriend clenches his fists in anger.

"Technically she didn't sleep with me, she just sucked me off," Gyutaro says nonchalantly.

Tengen narrows his eyes at his roommate, filled with fury. But honestly, he's not even mad at Gyutaro, he already knows he's a scumbag. So he isn't surprised he'd do something like this, he's more upset with you.

"Shut up incel, adults are talking," Tengen snaps back, "How could you do this, Y/N? I should've known you were a good-for-nothing whore."

"But I-I..." you whimper as your eyes begin to water, shame taking over you. Maybe you really are just a whore. Tengen may stand you up a lot, but that doesn't mean he deserved to be cheated on.

"Tsk," Gyutaro scoffs and takes a drag of his vape, "You're one to talk."

"Shut it! You're just a pathetic virgin, you don't know shit."

"Oh really? Then maybe I should tell Y/N about Hinatsuru. Or maybe Makio or Suma?" Gyutaro smirks as he watches Tengen go pale, "But what do I know? I'm just a pathetic incel, right?"

"You fucking prick..." Tengen curses under his breath.

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. Those were the girls that Tengen told you not to worry about, claiming that they were just childhood friends. You gave him the benefit of the doubt because you didn't have a reason not to. But now you feel like a complete and utter fool.

A part of you is fuming with anger but the other part feels relieved that now you're off the hook.

"Whatever," Tengen puts his hands up defensively, "You can have my sloppy seconds."

His words hurt, but honestly, you can't even bring yourself to care. As you watch Tengen leave and slam the door behind him, it's safe to say that your relationship is over.

But why is it that you don't even feel that sad about it? Maybe because a part of you figured he was already cheating. He was never around anyway so the fact that you're officially broken up doesn't change much. If anything you're just really happy that you don't have to feel bad about giving Gyutaro a blowjob anymore.

"We should fuck on his bed." Gyutaro breaks the silence with the most out-of-pocket, unhinged sentence. Though you can't say you're surprised he'd say such a thing in a moment like this.

"A-Are you serious?"

"Hell yeah," he takes another drag of his vape, "He said I could have you now so why hold back?"

You can't help but blush at his bluntness - this was one of the reasons why you crushed on Gyutaro in the first place. He's never afraid to say what's on his mind despite how strange or inappropriate it is.

"Haha, sure Gyutaro," you chuckle, "Let's do that."

With a big mischievous grin, Gyutaro takes your hand and leads you to his roommate's bedroom. Promtly pushing you onto the bed and hurriedly taking off his shirt.

"You're still wet from earlier, right?" he says as he slides off his pants, all too eager for round two.

"Y-yeah," you say shyly. He's right, you did get really wet when you gave him a blowjob - your panties are already soaked.

"Well hurry up, take that shit off," he gets impatient, his cock twitching as he glares down at you.

"He's one demanding virgin..." you think to yourself as you hurriedly take off your clothes. Honestly, you're surprised Gyutaro is already hard again after he just came. But he is a virgin after all so it makes sense.

Once your clothes have been fully removed, Gyutaro spreads your legs and crawls on top of you. "About fucking time, you know how many times I've jerked off while thinking about this?"

Your entire face goes red in embarrassment. His words aren't romantic in the slightest but his honesty is sexier than dirty talk could ever be.

You watch in horror as he's about to slide into you, "Wait!! Put a condom on first!"

Gyutaro rolls his eyes and shoves himself into you anyway, "Hell no, I wanna claim you in ways Tengen never could." He groans as he pushes his hips flush against you.

Your eyes roll back in ecstasy as you feel him fill you completely. After being wet for so long without any stimulation, it feels heavenly to finally have him inside of you.

"Ah f-fine," you moan, "But you have to pull out! I-I'm not on birth control."

"Fuck I'd love to get you pregnant so then you'd really be stuck with me," he murmurs, "But fine, I'll pull out if that's what you want."

You hope he'll keep his word, but honestly right now it feels too good to care. Gyutaro begins bucking his hips wildly, thrusting in and out of you with sloppy thrusts.

"You're my girl now, got it?" he says between gasps.

"Uh huh," you moan, "M'your girl now, Gyu."

"Fuck... good girl, Y/N" he picks up the pace - the sound of skin slapping fills the room. And your combined fluids splash where the two of you are connected, creating a nice messy pool on your ex-boyfriend's bed sheets.

Gyutaro doesn't quite know enough about sex yet to make you orgasm, but he's doing a decent enough job at fucking you that you already feel close. So you use your right hand to rub tight circles into your clit, while your other hand holds onto his shoulder for support.

"I fuck you better than he did, don't I?" Gyutaro growls, getting closer to his peak.

"Y-yeah, so much better," you moan, "B-Bigger too."

His lips curl into an arrogant smirk, he grabs your hips tightly and shakily pounds into you as hard as he can. So pussy drunk that he barely pulls out in time.

His cock twitching in the air as his nails dig into your hips, "Th-this'll show him! You're my girl now!" he whimpers as his semen splatters all over your abdomen and all over Tengen's sheets.

Watching the white sticky fluid stain the cloth does something to you and you feel your legs tremble as you reach orgasm. Moaning and arching your back, wishing that he was still inside of you.

"Fuck... he's an idiot for ever cheating on you. You're the perfect girl," Gyutaro rasps, leaning forward and catching your lips in a kiss.

As you lay there, a panting and sweaty mess, Gyutaro grabs some tissues and cleans you up. Then he haphazardly smears his semen on the bed sheets. Watching as it soaks into the fabric. Knowing that when Tengen gets into bed tonight he'll have a little surprise waiting for him.

[queers-gambit]

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing [ part one of two ]

part two: And Let Me Love You Anyway

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader -> hair color specified reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

part two: And Let Me Love You Anyway

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[jesswritesthat]

Rody Soul: Crush

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.4k, fluff

• You knew Rody well enough to know he doesn't just disappear, but until he returns someone's gotta look out for his siblings.

Warnings: World Heroes Mission spoilers

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There was a reason besides job hunting that Rody frequented Stanleyk's Bar so often, and that reason was a part time bartender who surely had to be in today.

However, once more he was disappointed with your absence and apparently he hadn't hidden it well this time regardless of Pino.

"Your little crush is off working."

"I— I didn't even ask. Besides, I thought (Y/n) worked here."

"Only part time kid. (L/n) takes on jobs just like you." Both he and Pino fell into awed silence, they heard you lived in one of the nicer residences in Shanty Town with little threat due to your renowned fighting ability, but to know you were contracted too? Wow, no doubt higher ranked than him considering you were away for longer periods.

"Bonjour! I'm back~" Gladly you entered, greeted by a soft pelt nuzzling into your neck, cooing affectionately despite Rodys' chiding outburst.

"Oh hello Pino, aren't you beautiful today."

"Congratulations, the contact was very pleased with your work and have requested your services at a later date." Stanleyk bluntly interjected, usually he received only positive feedback on any job associated with you.

"You get requested?!"

"Yeah, more elite clientele tend to stick with trusted confederates. It's just how they work, casual clients don't mind who they get as long as they suit the requirements." Came your experience-infused reply to Rody, reaching into your bag with renewed brightness. "Here, souvenirs for your siblings."

Rody had only introduced you to them once over the years and he hated that you were so thoughtful. It was hard not to develop a stupid crush on you even if he'd deny it to his last breath. Luckily you both had a withholding deal that prevented the disclosure of quirks. It annoyed him that yours was a secret but it was a worthwhile sacrifice when he realised he was attracted to you early on - and Pino had no shame in expressing that. You'd connect the dots way too fast for his liking.

That was your last interaction and you'd never gone so long without an encounter together before this - so knowing his address, and noting his delayed return, you knew something was awry.

When you'd brought up the matter to Stanleyk, he'd relayed a call he'd received and immediately you'd raced over to Rodys' home. Roro and Lala were cautious when you'd knocked but recognised you upon mention of their eldest brother and were glad for the company. 

Days passed and you'd opted for short-term jobs which allowed time to cook for them, play with them, and tell any bedtime stories you could conjure all whilst dozing on their corner seating area once the pair fell asleep. Although, with the impending bomb detonations and inevitable death that followed, your babysitting gig got harder.

Soon enough, you found out Rody was in the hospital after apparently putting an end to said calamity.

When you'd taken the worried Soul duo to visit him, you found Pino flapping about Rodys' siblings with vibrant joy whilst they hugged their bandaged brother. You assumed the other patients were the heroes he'd fought alongside, the green haired one being the most gracious toward your presence. It was then Pino awkwardly fluttered around you, unsure of what to do with herself and blushing fiercely meanwhile Rody offered a charismatic smile.

"Hey (Y/n), thanks for looking after my family whilst I was away, Stanleyk told me you took quicker jobs to check on them."

Before you could respond, Roro and Lala excitedly chimed your praises.

"Yeah (Y/n) cooks way nicer food than you!"

"And tells the coolest bedtime stories!"

"You— you did all that?"

"Eh you know, I have to balance certain aspects of my life with good deeds." Immediately the little pink bird was in your arms embracing what she could - to which Rody rapidly pulled her away with an embarrassed mumble.

Once visiting time was over, you all bid him farewell, leaving Rody with a knowing Midoriya.

"Does (Y/n) know about your quirk?"

"Nope, we have a deal."

"I see... which means they don't know how you feel—"

"Not another word! I don't have the confidence to tell them alright, you've just seen how beautiful and amazing they are..." It was a friendly exchange, and though chuckling Izuku gave his support.

"I think you should be honest about your feelings, after all you just saved many lives worldwide Rody. This shouldn't scare you."

Meanwhile outside the hospital room, you were experiencing the same revelation in a different form.

"That's why you came to check on us, because you're big brothers' partner?" Roro hummed in thought, Lala way too giddy with the information even if you were thoroughly confused.

"Where did you get that idea?"

"Rody is in love with you." Roro cemented, shocked you were apparently unaware.

"I don't think—"

"Yeah just look at Pino. She's always nuzzling and admiring you." There must be some miscommunication here.

"What's that got to do with Rody? If anyone loves me then surely it's Pino." You happily laughed, assuming this was just a child's' fantasy and thought you were playing along with it.

Their puzzled expressions had you second guessing though, then came their matter-of-fact enlightenment.

"Pino is Rodys' quirk. You know that right?"

No you did not, you thought she was a pet.

"She expresses exactly what Rody is feeling, making it impossible for him to lie!"

It suddenly all connected, why he came to visit on your shift days and how affectionate Pino had grown to be with you - warmly greeting you every time she saw you, fretting over any injury, tackling you, and flustering whenever you touched Rody. That was how he truly wished to communicate with you?

"Hey, I just need a minute, wait here." Obviously the pair did so with gleeful grins upon their faces as you dashed back into the room. The heroes seemed perplexed, especially when you pulled the curtain around Rodys' bed stating you wanted to see his injuries without children around.

He was equally as confounded, and this time you didn't miss the flourishing Pino despite the contrasting coolness her owner exhibited. You sat on his bed, staring him dead in the eye before you broke his very soul with your whispered question.

"Rody, are you in love with me?"

There was a flush of colour on his cheeks, but without another second to think he smirked casually and leaned closer to you.

"If you've fallen for me (Y/n), it's okay to confess, I won't judge."

Pino however, crash-landed in embarrassment with a white feather of submission waving above her demonstrating the answer you'd desired.

"I see, thanks Pino."

"Wait— you know, crap who told you?" The charade was up and the pure horror finally set in.

"Yeah, Pino shows your true emotions right? So what happens if I do this?"

You matched his previous false confidence, leaning closer with only centimetres between you that allowed you to feel his warm breath brush your lips. He didn't retract though, and so you closed the gap, Rody more than willing to kiss back when gentle fingers reached up to your jaw and a melodic chirping emitted from Pino as she soared though the air right over the curtain and around the room as if she was set aglow.

You pulled away slightly, amused by the display even if your opposite was heavily embarrassed - still, you moved in to kiss him again leaving Pino to enjoy the moment.

"Would ya get that damn bird to shut up already?!" It was the voice of the explosive blonde which fractured the fantasy, excusing yourself once opening the curtain with plausible cover.

"I'll stock some bandages for the wounds ready for when you get back. See you!"

———

Life seemed to resume to normal with both of you giving up the shady lifestyle, whilst you quit your position at Stanleyk's Bar to pursue your true passions, Rody in turn ended up getting employed there.

You spent nights over with the Soul family, even if it meant sleeping on the corner couch, Rody always ensured to cook you breakfast. He listened to your bedtime stories with a dreamy look on his face, and when his siblings fell asleep came to join you prior to heading to bed himself.

You'd gifted him pilot books, and you became a feature drawing upon their wall, all the while both of you saved to improve life for the better.

"Hey, if you need a flight attendant oh future pilot captain, may I apply early?"

Just then, Pino held a wing over her heart and promptly fainted whilst Rody ran a hand through his hair.

"Actually, I'd rather you be my copilot so we could always fly together..."

“Is that your idea of a proposal Rody?”

“Wha— not yet! I haven’t saved enough to buy you a—“

“I meant a job proposal, what were you thinking?” Your witty tone left him slumping begrudgingly in his chair and briskly swiping Pino before you could see the classic engagement proposal position she’d admiringly taken.

“Ah, of buying you a pilot manual too if you want to fly with me. That’s all.”

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