#and might do requests to see if anything clicks. i have a few sitting in the inbox it might be good

[mirrortouchedsea]

want to write but none of my wips are calling to me

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。here, just for you | bakugo katsuki

wc: 1.0k summary: you give bakugo flowers, and he can’t figure out why. contains: implied f!reader but i don’t mention anything specific, talks about flowers and a kind of early established relationship, just fluff and bakugo getting flustered while going through the motions of a relationship!  a/n: this is aged up to when bakugo is a pro! i envision him maturing a lot and mellowing out a little so hopefully this captures that!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

Bakugo doesn’t know what to expect, stepping into his office after a long day on patrol—actually, scratch that. Bakugo doesn’t expect anything, really, besides his office to look the exact same way he left it this morning: pristine and orderly. 

And it is, for the most part—save for a small bouquet of flowers sitting delicately on his desk. 

It isn’t uncommon for him to receive some; companies and politicians often send them to express their good graces. But those usually go through PR first, along with the many other trinkets and letters received from fans. 

So, it shouldn’t really be a big deal, except, flowers have never appeared in his office, on his desk, with a note written in your handwriting, until now. 

Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he remembers holidays, birthdays, and since being with you—potential anniversaries too. But there’s nothing, complete zilch that comes up when he tries to recall what today could be. 

He furrows his brows, looking for your contact on his phone. Most of his hero costume is gone now, all of the chunky pieces stored away to reveal the plain black jumpsuit he wears underneath. Clunky boots replaced by rubber shoes he wears more and more these days. 

He reaches for the bouquet while his phone rings, fingers sliding through the leaves softly. It’s a simple arrangement: a few gerberas and tulips standing out in pink and orange against small bunches of baby’s breath and cocculus. There’s a homeyness to it he can only attribute to you. 

“Katsuki?” you pick up, warmth and affection coming through.

“Y’got me flowers?” he asks gruffly, thumbing the note you’d written. 

There’s nothing on it but ‘For Katsuki’ in your cursive. No indication of what it’s for, or why you’d given it in the first place. He’s confused and maybe a little nervous; did he forget a date or something?

“Oh, yeah!” you exclaim, a string of ‘pings’ sounding your request at a video call. 

Lately, calls with you end up this way. For the longest time, Bakugo’s been a text-mostly-and-call-but-no-video-only kind of guy; it’s quick and efficient, gets things done with minimal fuss. But since getting together with you, texting’s begun to feel a little bit insufficient without your voice accompanying it. Regular calls suffice, but you know how harsh his words can sound despite his face saying otherwise. 

Your relationship is kind of old but still kind of new—a few months before you celebrate one year, and he still rolls his eyes (at himself) whenever you do this, lips quirked up as he clicks ‘accept’ (as if he can’t believe how you’ve single-handedly changed his phone habits just like that). 

You wait for him to adjust his phone, portions of his office in blur before he props it against the All Might paperweight on his desk. You continue, “Do you like it?”

He shoves the bouquet into the frame, smothering the microphone until all you hear is muffled noise. 

“Sorry, baby, I think you’re covering the mic.”

He tuts and you laugh as his face comes into view a few seconds later. His eyebrows are bunched together in the way they characteristically are and you see remnants of his black eyeliner smudged across his eyelids. Even at the tail end of his day, tired and just a little bit grumpy, Bakugo still looks pretty illuminated by the light on his phone.

It’s unfair, you think.  

“S’nice.” he murmurs, fiddling with the petals, “Thank you.” 

You catch his gaze and smile, “You’re welcome.” 

There’s an uneasiness to Bakugo’s eyes that you can tell comes from uncertainty, and you give him the silence to sort through it before he lets you know eventually, just like he always does. 

“I–”, he looks to the side, away from the camera. The crease between his eyebrows grow deeper before clearing his throat, “–M’not forgetting anythin’ today, am I?”

You tilt your head, puzzled, “I don’t think so, unless I’m forgetting it too.” 

“So why’d–”, he looks back to the bouquet, sighing, “–why’dya give me flowers?” 

Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he knows your favorite food, and your usual order from that café you both go to down the street. He remembers that one sunday, during a hike, when you told him in passing that it was the best day of your life. You don’t like fuzzy socks because they make you sneeze, and you’re allergic to dust but continue to tend to him even when he’s covered entirely in it. 

Bakugo knows all these things and makes it a point to because a relationship–this relationship with you–is new and kind of hard, and this is one way he knows he can be good to you.

“Oh,” you blink, before answering so casually, so honestly, “I just wanted to.” 

Ruby eyes stare back at you, a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher swirling in them. His fingers slip through the leaves of the bouquet once more before his gaze softens.

“Ha.” he huffs out, almost chuckling to himself in relief. 

“Yeah, ‘ha’,” you tease, laughing, “they’re just for being you, Katsuki.” 

The look you send him is fond, but the feeling it gives him is anything but. Every time you laugh, and smile, and speak to him as if he is every bit deserving of the love you give, there is a battle raging in his ribcage. He doesn’t know when it’s ever going to stop feeling that way–if it ever will. The sides of his neck begin to flush red, and you giggle, finding it every bit endearing. 

He clears his throat again, trying hard to hide how flustered he feels, “D’you make it?” 

You nod, “Been trying flower arranging lately.” 

“S’pretty.” he supplies, turning the bouquet around to show you. You grow shy, Bakugo knowing full well how terrible you are at taking compliments. 

“You should get going, it’s getting late.” you mumble, snuggling into your blanket, the one he’d left in your apartment months ago. 

Bakugo grunts in agreement, “Tomorrow, 7am?” 

You hum, “Message me when you get home,” reminding him, even though this is routine by now. 

The next day, just like every other Tuesday, Bakugo will pick you up at 7am for a trip to that café you go to down the street. And maybe, on another day, you’ll get him flowers again, just for being your Katsuki. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

haii! :33

can i request boothill and argenti (seperately) with a shy gn!reader who gets flustered easily? whether it would be through words, physical touch or stuff like that

thank youu!! ^_^

Jing yuan:

Smug bastard.

Acts like he wasn’t the reason you were flustered to the high heavens from brushing his hand across your waist.

‘Are you alright my dear?’ He’d say, faking innocence as he intentionally held your face in his hands, softly caressing your cheeks as he felt them gradually grow warmer with every stroke of his thumbs. ‘You’re feeling rather warm here, should I get you to a doctor?’ He adds with a knowing smile.

‘N-no. I’m fine.’ You’d say, unable to form actual thoughts as your mind was heavily focused on a plethora of things, from the way that his hands held your face as though it were porcelain, to the way he caresses your skin felt like kisses in their own right.

The acclaimed dozing general raised an eyebrow as his smile only grew more mischievous. ‘Are you sure? You’re really heating up my dear, I wouldn’t want you to faint on me now,’ he then leaned in close, chuckling upon hearing you gasp a the close proximity, whispering. ‘Unless that’s your intention.’

Jing Yuan thoroughly enjoyed being the reason you were flustered and found your reactions addictive, so much that he would start doing things where he got to see that reaction as much as possible.

Touching your hand

Brushing shoulders

Sitting really close to you/ ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on you, etc.

However if you were to ever express that you wanted him to stop, he will as he understands that you might not want to be made to fluster all the time. He’s not a dickhead and respects you greatly for giving him the ability to start living life again.

Argenti:

This man speaks from the bottom of his heart, there’s not a single lie to be found in his words, and it was due to that undeniable truthfulness that left you more flustered then not.

‘I only speak the truth my beloved rose.’ He says softly as he held your hands in his own all the while maintaining eye contact, which didn’t help you in any way shape or form as you felt your face practically burst into flames and your heart going at a mile an hour the longer you stay in close proximity to him.

He smelt of roses and chivalry, which was odd as you didn’t think chivalry could have a smell, but with Arenti anything was seemingly possible.

‘You are the beauty that I’ve been seeking and now that I have you, I have no doubt that I will love you for eternity should it be allowed of me.’

Boom, you’re dead and on the floor as you stare up at the ceiling as Argenti was quick to move to kneel at your side, face full of concern as his face hovers over you all the while his hair acted as ruby red curtains, forcing you to solely focus on his extremely pretty face. He looked like an angel in that moment and you somehow still found it in you to get even more flustered upon gazing at his face.

He’s genuinely concerned about you whenever you got flustered, his heart and soul were just so pure that he wasn’t really clicking onto the fact that he was the reason you were constantly flustered.

‘My dear flower, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you somehow? Should I seek medical attention?’ - him.

‘No, I’m okay. Just give me a few minutes…or an hour.’ -you, flustered to the high heavens and embarrassment for making him worry.

Boothill:

Smug bastard 2.0

The moment you shown him how easily flustered you could get, it’s over for you as you’ve given Boothill ammunition to keep finding new ways to flustered you on the daily.

Your reactions were his drug and he’d gladly overdoes on them if he could but that might be going a bit too far, however he didn’t care because you being flustered from almost anything he did had become everything to him.

So he would nuzzle his cheek to yours.

Playfully nibbles on your earlobe, shoulder, neck, arms, lips and takes enjoyment in your squeals and attempts to get away from him, only to be pulled back in.

Kissing your lips constantly, even more so in public.

The teasing is never ending with Boothill.

He’s relentless, unyielding and extremely brutal in his teasings that you may as well be permanently flustered. However if you were to shyly give this gremlin a taste of his own medicine by boldly kissing his cheek, he’s suddenly silent and a little fluttered.

He just loves smothering you in love and will continue to do so as nothing else mattered to him in that moment more than you and the effects he had over you.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Hello could I request a university au hyuka and soobin x bttm sub reader where in public the reader is loved across the campus by both professors and students and is very much a gold star pupil but behind closed doors the reader is nothing to short of a cock hungry whore for kai and soobin and loves when they use him however they see fit

The Star Pupil

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Soobin x Top!Hyuka x Bottom!Male reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: I might be a little behind on posting requests because of school and soccer starting, so if you request now, it might take me a while to get to it.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The university's clock tower chimed, sending its melodious echo across the quad. Students hurried to their next classes, their chatter and laughter punctuating the hot summer air. Amidst the bustle, a young man with a tray of books precariously balanced on one hand navigated the crowded walkway. His eyes searched the horizon, a hint of anticipation in his gait.

"Hey, M/n!" a familiar voice called out, and the young man turned to see Kai, his best friend, waving from the entrance of the library. The two shared a knowing smile as they approached each other.

"Hyuka," M/n greeted, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the other's impeccable outfit - the white sweater vest and dark red tie of their summer uniform contrasting with the golden hue of his skin. "What's up?"

Kai grinned mischievously, a glint in his eyes. "Just thought I'd help you lighten the load." He plucked a book from the tray, and M/n felt a strange thrill as their fingers brushed. "What's in store for us today?"

M/n shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Just the usual, I guess. Homework, studying, maybe a nap in the shade."

Kai leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "Or maybe a little detour to Soobin and I's dorm?" His words hung in the air, a seductive invitation that sent shivers down M/n's spine. The idea of being used by both of them at the same time was thrilling, and his cock began to stir in his shorts.

M/n's eyes widened slightly, trying to keep his arousal hidden. "What do you guys have planned?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

Kai's grin grew wider. "Well, Soobin had this idea." He paused for dramatic effect. "He wants to… well, show his appreciation for the university's star pupil." His eyes danced with excitement as he took M/n's hand, leading him away from the bustling path.

M/n's heart raced as they approached the dorms. He knew what was coming, and his body was already eager for it. The door to their shared room swung open, revealing Soobin lounging on the bed, his tie askew and the top button of his shirt undone. The sight was tantalizing, and M/n could feel his pulse quicken.

"Welcome, scholar," Soobin greeted, his voice a smooth caress that made M/n's knees wobble. He stepped into the room, the cool air conditioning a stark contrast to the heat outside. The scent of their combined cologne wafted through the air, a heady mix that made him even more eager for what was to come.

"You know I'd do anything for a little… extra credit," M/n said, setting his books down on the desk with a playful smirk. Soobin's eyes lit up at the mention, and Kai chuckled, locking the door behind them with a soft click.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep the harsh sunlight at bay. Soobin gestured to the bed with a knowing smile. "Then let's get to it," he said, his voice dropping to a sensual purr.

M/n felt his cheeks flush as he approached the bed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He knew he was about to embark on another session of passionate submission to the two men he adored. Kai and Soobin had discovered his secret desires a few months ago, and since then, their friendship had evolved into something more intimate and intense. They had become his masters in every sense of the word, and he reveled in the feeling of belonging that came with it.

Soobin patted the bed, and M/n eagerly complied, sitting down and watching as Kai moved closer. The tall, lean figure of Soobin was a vision of calm power, his dark eyes filled with an unspoken command that sent a shiver down M/n's spine. Kai, on the other hand, was all energy and playfulness, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Strip," Soobin ordered, and M/n's hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. He felt the heat of their gazes on him as he revealed his bare chest, the cool fabric of his uniform shorts caressing his now-throbbing cock. He watched as Kai's eyes grew dark with desire, and Soobin's hand reached out to stroke his own cock through his pants.

The tension in the room grew thick as M/n shed his clothes, feeling like a piece of art being unwrapped for their viewing pleasure. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, allowing them to see his hard, leaking cock and the softness of his balls.

"Good boy," Kai murmured, his voice a gentle caress as he knelt before M/n, unbuckling his own belt. Soobin sat up, his hand still stroking his length, his eyes never leaving M/n's. The room was now filled with the sound of clothes being removed, the rustle of fabric punctuating the silence.

M/n watched, his breath hitching, as Kai pulled out his cock, already standing at attention. It was a beautiful sight, a stark contrast to the innocent façade he maintained in public. Kai's fingers danced over M/n's thighs, teasing closer and closer to his cock. The anticipation was almost unbearable, his body aching for their touch.

Soobin's hand reached out, taking the lead as he gently stroked M/n's erection. His thumb circled the sensitive head, spreading the precum that had gathered there. "Look how eager you are," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "Always ready to serve."

M/n's eyes fluttered shut as Kai leaned in, the tip of his cock brushing against M/n's parted lips. Without a word, M/n opened his mouth and took Kai in, feeling the softness of the head give way to the firmness beneath. He moaned around the girth, savoring the taste of his friend's desire. Soobin's strokes grew firmer, and he could feel the heat building in his own balls, begging for release.

Kai's hand tangled in M/n's hair, guiding him deeper as he pushed his cock into the warm, welcoming depths of his mouth. M/n's throat muscles worked in silent invitation, eager to please. He knew the drill, knew how to make Kai moan and buck his hips, and he reveled in the power he held over the him. The sound of wet, suckling noises filled the room, mingling with Soobin's gentle groans of approval.

With a smooth motion, Soobin positioned himself behind M/n, his cock nudging against the tight, puckered entrance. He lubricated himself with the precum that was already flowing freely from his cock, teasing M/n open with the tip before pushing in. M/n's eyes widened, and he took Kai's cock even deeper, the dual sensation of fullness in his mouth and ass sending waves of pleasure through his body.

Soobin's thrusts grew stronger, and M/n's moans around Kai's cock grew louder, the vibrations adding to the intense sensation. He could feel the head of Soobin's cock brushing against his prostate, the pleasure almost too much to handle. Kai's grip on his hair tightened, guiding him in a rhythm that matched Soobin's movements.

M/n's eyes watered as he deepthroated Kai, taking him in until the base hit the back of his throat. His cheeks hollowed with each bob, his throat muscles working overtime to accommodate the thick length. Kai's breathing grew ragged, and his hips began to buck slightly, pushing deeper into M/n's eager mouth. The young man's eyes met Soobin's in the mirror on the wall, and he could see the mix of pleasure and dominance in the leader's gaze.

Soobin's cock slid into M/n with a smoothness that spoke of experience and practice. M/n's body quivered around the intrusion, the tightness giving way to the familiar stretch that never failed to excite him. He could feel the heat of Soobin's body at his back, the leader's chest pressing against his own as he fucked him slowly, savoring every inch.

"Y-ou're such a f-fucking cock slut," Kai groaned, his voice strained with pleasure as M/n took him deep. The sound of M/n's gagging was music to their ears, a symphony of desire that filled the room.

"I bet you love being used like this, don't you?" Soobin whispered, his breath hot against M/n's neck as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "The gold star pupil, spread open for anyone who wants a taste."

M/n nodded, his eyes still glued to Kai's in the mirror, his mouth full of the latter's cock. He felt the pressure build inside him, a delicious ache that grew with every thrust from behind. Soobin's cock filled him completely, the head brushing against that sweet spot that made his toes curl.

Kai's hand on the back of his head grew more insistent, pushing him to take even more of his length. M/n's throat muscles tightened around the cock, his gag reflex giving way to the sweet obedience that came with being used so thoroughly. He could feel the veins pulsing in Kai's cock, the precursor to his climax, and his own need grew more urgent.

Soobin's strokes grew deeper, his cock plunging into M/n with a steadiness that spoke of his control. Each time he reached the deepest part of him, M/n's body clenched around him, desperate for more. He felt the beginnings of an orgasm building, the pleasure cresting like a wave ready to break.

In the mirror, M/n watched as Kai's eyes rolled back, his breaths coming in sharp pants. His hand on the back of M/n's head was a vice, urging him to swallow every inch. The sight was too much for M/n to bear, and he felt his own orgasm approaching, his cock spasming and leaking onto his stomach.

Soobin must have felt the change in tension because he picked up his pace, his strokes now punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. "You're going to cum for us, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and demanding. "You're going to show us how much you love being our little whore."

M/n nodded, his eyes never leaving Kai's in the mirror. He could feel Soobin's cock swelling inside him, knew he was close as well. The pressure in his own balls was unbearable, the heat in his belly coiling tighter and tighter.

With a final, powerful thrust, Soobin hit M/n's prostate just right, and the dam broke. M/n's eyes rolled back in his head as he came, spurts of cum painting his stomach and chest. His throat clenched around Kai's cock, the contractions of his orgasm sending Kai over the edge as well. The older boy's grip on his hair tightened, and he shot his load down M/n's throat, filling him up with his hot seed.

Soobin's orgasm followed, his cock pulsing inside M/n as he emptied himself. The feeling of being filled by both of them at once was overwhelming, and M/n's body quivered with the intensity of it all. He could feel their combined cum leaking out of him, a sticky mess that only added to the delicious feeling of being used so thoroughly.

Kai's grip on M/n's hair loosened, and he gently pulled out, his cock still semi-hard and glistening with saliva. He stepped back, admiring the sight before him. "Look at you," he said, his voice filled with pride. "Our perfect little toy, just waiting to be played with."

M/n felt a rush of satisfaction at the praise, his cheeks still flushed from the exertion. He looked up at Kai through his lashes, his mouth open slightly, the taste of his release still lingering. Soobin slowly withdrew, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched M/n's body convulse with the aftershocks of pleasure.

[moonstruckme]

hi love! could I request reader having a nightmare and Remus comforting her?

Hi gorgeous, of course you can! Thanks :)

roomate!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You wake when your own fist hits the window beside your bed.

You’re not sure if it's the feeling of the cold glass hitting your hand, the loud banging sound it makes in your silent flat, or the terror that’s been building as your dream reaches a climax, but you gasp as you wake, flinching away from the window. 

For a few moments, you just lie there. Staring into the darkness and listening to the pounding of your heart. You’re okay. You’re in your room, at home. There’s no one here. 

Until there is. Remus busts in your door, wild-eyed and rumpled, and you flinch back towards the window you’d been so eager to get away from a few seconds before. 

“Shit!” Your eyes fill with tears as your brain plunges from the treacherous peak of adrenaline for the second time in a minute. You squeeze them shut, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry, Remus. I woke you?” 

“That was you?” He stops just inside the doorway, fisting a hand in his hair and blowing out a harsh breath. “Christ, I thought someone was breaking in.” 

“Sorry,” you say pathetically, sitting up and wiping under your eyes. “I think I was breaking out. I hit the window in my sleep.” 

Remus’ eyes flit to the window (you don’t think you came anywhere near damaging it, thank god), before landing back on your face. His eyebrows draw together. “Well, that’s a reaction. Everything okay?”

You swallow. “Yeah, just sorry I woke you. You should go back to sleep.” 

“Why are you crying?” He ignores the suggestion and comes to sit on the edge of your bed. You make room for him automatically, drawing your knees to your chest. 

“I guess I spooked myself,” you laugh wetly. “It was just a dream, though.” 

The space between Remus’ brows puckers. “Bad dream? Must’ve been pretty terrifying for you to jerk your arm like that.” He’s looking at you thoughtfully. “I’ve never known you to do anything like that before.”

You shrug, feeling your face heat from the attention. “Hopefully it’s the only time.” 

“Do you think it might help to talk about it?” 

“I’ve already forgotten most of it,” you say, but give him a small smile for his efforts. He really is the best roommate you could ask for, kind to a fault. “I woke up pretty freaked, but I’ll get over it. Thanks, though.” 

Remus watches you with those warm, caramel eyes of his. You get the impression he’s sizing you up. “Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep after that, love?” 

You’re sure he’s tacked on the endearment to imbue the question with extra sweetness (as if his voice isn’t enough), wanting to make it clear that either answer is alright. But even Remus’ special brand of tenderness can’t convince you to inconvenience him any more than you already have. Your heart is still half-stuck in your throat, and there’s no way you’re going to let yourself fall back asleep when you’re in this headspace—that’d just be asking for another nightmare. He doesn’t need to worry about that, though.��

“Yeah,” you fib. “I’ll be fine, thanks.” 

Remus looks dissatisfied, but nods. “Alright.” He reaches up, giving your knee an affectionate squeeze as he stands. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Sorry again for waking you,” you say, voice pitched high with shame. 

“Don’t be,” he says, plodding sleepily out of your room. “It’s no problem.” 

You’re positive it was some problem, considering he’d been roused by your noise in the early hours of the morning and come charging into your room looking half-crazed, but you’re done arguing about it. Maybe if you still haven’t fallen asleep by six or seven, you’ll get up early to make him an apology breakfast. 

You track the sound of Remus’ quiet footsteps as he goes into his room, waiting for the click of the door closing. A few moments, and it doesn’t come. His footfalls have stopped, until they change direction, shuffling back across the hall. 

His head pokes into your room. “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”

Your shoulders begin to curl towards your ears. “No,” you say in a small voice, “but it doesn’t need to be your problem.” 

He gives you a disapproving look. “Would it help to sleep in my room?” 

You startle. “I could never ask—”

“You’re not asking,” he says, seeming to have got his answer. “Come on.” 

“Remus, thank you, but I can’t stay in your room.” 

“Sure you can. My bed’s bigger, and the longer you argue the less time either of us gets to sleep.” He levels you with a hard look, and for a second, your quiet, polite roommate is nearly intimidating. “Come on.” 

You comply this time, slipping out from beneath your blankets. “Sorry,” you say, and then, unable to choose, “thank you. You’re seriously too nice.” 

“I’m not,” Remus mutters, waiting at the door until he’s sure you’re coming before leading the way into his room. “The problem is that you’re too nice, and so I can’t ignore you when you’re upset like I would anyone else.” 

You sincerely doubt that. You’ve seen Remus rush off at the drop of a hat whenever any of his friends needed him. He’ll give every scrap of himself to anyone he cares about, without hesitation. 

But instead of that, you say, “I’m not upset.” 

“That’s good,” Remus replies, lying down and propping himself up on one elbow. When you hover on the edge, waiting for permission, he gestures to the other side patiently. “It’s alright to still be a bit frightened, though, you know?” 

You gnaw on the inside of your lip as you crawl beneath the covers. It feels like such an invasion. “I think it’s more just the aftershocks of fear,” you tell him. “I’m still panicking a bit, but I can’t even remember what about.” 

He hums, his watchfulness making you squirm as you lay your cheek on his pillow, facing him. His sheets smell like him, cinnamon and clove and something heady that you’ve never been able to place. “That doesn’t mean the panic isn’t still scary, yeah? How’re you feeling now?” 

He asks like he really wants to know, and you believe him. There’s a particular sincerity to Remus. He likes to hide it behind gruffness and feigned insouciance, sometimes for so long that you can trick yourself into thinking you imagined it was there in the first place. He’s not hiding it now. 

“Better,” you answer honestly. “Kind of getting tired. Did I startle you awake too badly to sleep?” 

The smile he gives you is small for all the fondness it contains. “No, I’m getting tired too. Ready to try sleeping again? If I notice you stirring, I can wake you if you like.” 

You feel like you could cry again, but for completely different reasons. “I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.” 

“It’s nothing.” He sets his head on the pillow next to yours, the backs of his knuckles resting gently against the side of your hand. “Goodnight, love.” 

You let the weight of your eyelids win, the darkness behind them more welcoming with Remus beside you. “Goodnight.” 

You don’t wake again until morning. 

[heartsforvin]

hi baby, so i was thinking about this earlier when i saw an edit of him but anyway,

what if the reader and vinnie have been dating for a couple months but privately, so on there social media’s there’s like no evidence that they’re in a relationship, and vinnie films that one video with tara and everyone starts shipping them and the reader gets pissed off and it causes a fight between reader and vinnie that possibly ends in smut? if you’re not comfortable with that you can adjust it and finish it however you want, but i was just thinking of this earlier and thought if anyone could bring it to life it would be you! <3 love youuu

MINE

thank you for the request ml <33 i hope you like it !!

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, angst, cussing, use of pet names, arguing/ yelling, praise, slapping, if i missed anything lmk !

summary: when you see people start to ship vinnie with other girls online, you get a bit defensive but vinnie reminds you who you’re with

you and vinnie haven’t been together long, only a couple of months. both of you decided to keep your relationship private since you knew how his fans could get majority of the time when he’s seen with any girl.

you were upset when he brought up the proposition at first, but knew where he was coming from and respected his decision nonetheless.

it was the best thing to do, anyways. you had seen some pictures on his feed with girl friends from the past few years and saw how crazy his fanbase can get when he’s anywhere near a girl.

it upset you in some extent. you weren’t the type of girl to tell your boyfriend he can’t have friends that are girls.

however, you knew if the fans did know the two of you were together and he had posted about hanging with his friend group, he’d get backlash on it and drama would start up.

drama you did not need, nor want.

so the two of you stuck to yourselves, and you both couldn’t be happier.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

you were laying on your shared bed when vinnie came sprinting into the room with the biggest smile on his face.

“what’s got you so excited?” you ask as you sit up and wrap your arms around his waist.

vinnie pulls you up off the bed so you’re in his arms and he continues to smile until saying, “remember tara? we met her at that halloween party a few years back.”

you nod your head, remembering the girl well. “she just texted and told me she wanted to film a youtube video with me. it’s for her new series and so i thought you would be the first to know.

vinnie knew you weren’t the jealous type, at least not overly jealous. he knew you were his you he is yours and there was absolutely nothing to worry about.

he still felt the need to ask if he could film the video. he knew the fans might get the wrong impression, but tara was nothing more than a friend to not only him but the both of you.

“that’s so exciting, vin,” you tell him as you hug him tightly. “are you doing that now?”

he nods. “yeah, if that’s alright. i know we had plans to just hang out but she said this needed to be out soon and it’s the only day we’re both available.”

you smile with a shake to your head, completely understanding. “go ahead and have fun, baby. text me when you’re on your way back though, okay?”

vinnie agreed and kissed you softly before he grabbed his things and headed out the door.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

a day has passed since vinnie and tara filmed the video together and you and vinnie sat on your bed refreshing tara’s youtube channel.

since you didn’t go with him, you had asked vinnie if you could watch the video when it was posted.

he of course told you you could, but that he’d probably step out of the room just because he doesn’t like to watch the videos he’s in.

your smile grew once you saw the video pop up on the screen. vinnie clicked on it for you to watch while he went to go find hera.

once you finished the video you went to go see where vinnie went. you saw him cuddled up on the couch with hera.

“i loved it.” is all you said to the boy on the couch. he smiled and sat up.

“i know your favorite part was the tattoo on my weiner joke.” he said with a laugh.

you pushed his chest playfully and laughed with him. “no one will ever know besides me if that’s true or not,” you say. “i’ve looked though, you don’t have one there.”

vinnie smiled and pulled you into him. “you know all those things i said were just jokes, right?” he was referring to the jokes he made with tara.

the one where he had said he’s finding a more ‘private spot’ for them so she could see this alleged tattoo.

you nodded as you brushed through his hair with your fingers. “i know they are,” you said. “just wondering what the comments will be like.”

that’s what led you to the next few hours. you didn’t expect the day to turn out like this at all.

you had mistakenly read the comments of the video and on tara’s instagram post promoting it. comments that were shipping him and tara together, saying how cute they’d be and so on.

as much as you wanted to stop reading them, it’s like you couldn’t. they were consuming you, making you more angry by the second.

“i bet you after they stopped filming he took her somewhere private.” you read aloud.

you hear vinnie scoff, making you look up from your laptop. “you know that’s not true.” he said.

you lower your head and read more. every time you refresh more come in. it’s like you couldn’t stop even if you wanted.

“they keep shipping the two of you.” your voice is so low vinnie can barely hear it.

you knew this would happen, but seeing it for yourself hurts more than hearing it.

even if the fans don’t know vinnie’s seeing anyone, it still hurts and angers you to see your boyfriend being told he’d look good with some other girl.

“shouldn’t have told you you could do it.” that peaks vinnie’s interest and his demeanor quickly changes.

you watch as he crosses his arms over his chest. “you knew this would happen. thought you said you can handle it?”

you sigh, getting frustrated with his use of words. you could handle it, you are handing it. it’s just the thought and seeing people pair him with someone else that gets you upset.

“i can handle it, thank you,” you scoff at your boyfriend. “i’m sorry the thought of my boyfriend being with another girl upsets me.”

with a roll to your eyes you start to walk away, but vinnie catches you before you make it too far.

“you have the right to get mad,” he says. “but you don’t need to be this mad over it. you knew what you were getting yourself into when we started dating.”

that sentence just frustrates you more. “they are too fucking obsessive over you!” you shout.

it was true, they could get a bit obsessive and overprotective, but vinnie had learned to ignore it most of the time.

“you know i’m right,” you breathe out. “everywhere i look it’s you getting paired up with someone you are standing next to, and suddenly everyone’s saying you’re dating them."

you sigh heavy and rub your hands over your face. you knew it was probably a dumb thing to get upset about, but vinnie was your boyfriend, not theirs.

“i don’t want any of them,” vinnie says in a harsh tone. “you know i only want you. do you need a reminder of that?”

the question suddenly shifts the mood in the room and suddenly your upset expression turns into a smile.

“you do, don’t you?” vinnie asks again. he closes in on you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “answer me, pretty. is that what you want?”

his breath on your ear makes you go cold. you feel his lips plant themselves on your neck, sucking just enough to let a bruise form moments after.

you nod your head and vinnie unwraps himself for you, pushing you lightly to your shared bedroom. you don’t even have to be told what to do next.

when he meets you in there, he’s met with the sight of you on your bed, smiling ear to ear once you see him.

“oh, now you’re happy?” his tone is almost condescending, making you wipe the smile completely off your face.

vinnie cocks his head, he watches as you scoot back on the bed and lift your hips to take off your shorts and panties.

he nods his head slowly with a smile. “good girl.”

you watch his next move carefully, not wanting to make him yell at you more. you watch as he pulls his shirt off, then unbuckles his pants and pulls them down next.

“shirt.” is all he says before you lift the hem of your shirt and pull it off.

you don’t have time to speak before he’s hovering over you and kissing you. his hands find their way to your tits and knead them in his palms, making you whine and dig your head in the pillow.

vinnie laughs when he feels your hips buck up into his. “you want this?” he asks.

you nod frantically as you tug at his boxers, needing him to have the same little clothing as you.

“please.” you say as you rake your nails down his bare chest.

vinnie smiles as he takes your hands and places them on the waistband of his boxers. you look up at him, eyes asking what you can’t, and he smiles and tells you yes.

he kisses you roughly once his boxers hit the floor and the two of you lie there naked. he lifts you up so his hands are on your back.

the kiss continues, without missing a beat vinnie takes himself in his hand and strokes a few times before lifting you up and setting you on his lap.

once your body makes contact with his, you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him inside of you.

“fuck,” he breathes out once he bottoms out inside you. “feel so good baby.”

you claw at his back as he thrusts deeper into you. vinnie winces at the contact of your nails scratching at his back.

you’re about to speak but before you can, vinnie lifts you off him and pushes you onto the back of the headboard.

“you wanna know who i want?” his tone is stern, making you smile even though you should probably do anything but.

nodding, you watch as he lifts your legs and wraps them around his shoulders. he carefully pushes himself into you before bottoming out.

you lift your head and vinnie immediately knows what you want. he leans his head down and meets you halfway, kissing you softly.

the two of you pull apart and his head leans back as he thrusts deep into you, eliciting moans from both of you.

“vinnie.” is all you can muster out as he continues his pace.

he smirks as he watches you lift yourself up, holding yourself up by your elbows.

“tell me what you want,” his voice deep as he speaks. “come on pretty girl, use your words.”

your body shakes when you feel his right and make contact with your right breast, smacking it just enough to elicit a moan of pleasure out of you.

“like that, huh?” he asks, completely forgetting what he said moments prior.

you nod as you watch his hand knead your breast, making you tilt your head back.

“vin.” his name slips from your lips in a whine, making vinnie smile.

his hand moves from your breast back to your thigh. his pace quickens and tears well into your eyes at the pressure of him.

vinnie pushes himself into you more until he sees the bulge form in your tummy. he chuckles as his hand makes contact with your lower stomach.

“baby, fuck.” his voice is strained. you look up at what he wants you to see and you smile.

you feel pressure on your stomach and look to see what your boyfriend could be doing.

“see that princess,” he breathes out. “see that? that’s all me.” he thrusts harder, pushing his hand against you.

a loud moan erupts from you which makes vinnie smile. “that’s it pretty, let me hear you.”

his hand moves from your stomach to your clit, helping you reach your peak.

“vinnie, shit.” his thumb makes tight circles on your clit, making you cross your legs together against his back.

“i only want you princess.” he tells you. “i don’t want anyone else, alright? you’re mine, i’m yours.”

his thumbs fast pace and this thrusts is becoming too much for you, your moans are getting more high pitched as you feel your high approaching.

“come on baby, be a good girl for me.” he kisses your hip which only makes you squirm at the feeling.

after a few more thrusts and rubs to your sensitive clit, you don’t have time to warn him before you’re cumming all over him.

“that’s it,” he says as he helps you ride out your high. “good girl.”

you’re panting and smiling up at him as you watch vinnie slowly pull out of you after a moment.

you sit up completely snd kiss him roughy, smiling once you pull away.

“do you believe me now?” he asks you, you chuckle and smile at him before kissing him softer this time.

you nod your head. “i think i need one more refresher though.”

vinnie laughs and tackles you so your laying flat on the bed. “you’re insufferable sometimes.”

you push his chest. “oh you’re so getting it.”

before vinnie can speak you get the strength to flip him over and now you’re the one hovering over him.

“now it’s your turn to be good for me.” you say with a smirk.

girl this has been in the works for days and idk how to feel about it 😣 i hope you all like it !! thank you for the request again <3

tags: @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42internetgirl , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @lovelysturnioloos , @lovingsturniolo , @pepsicolapussy333 , @visualbutterflysworld , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @defnotayonna , @supabhad , @kayleighh , @kriissy4gov

[yuff7e]

heyy i was hoping you could hear me out on this female reader x bakugo fic request. this might sound so weird but pls stay w me. when u give a guy head it can bruise the back of ur throat. (obviously isn’t perm) and dentists can actually tell and see the bruising. so i’ve jus been thinking about going to a dental appointment with Bakugo the next day after giving him that head and the dentist being able to tell and lowkey teasing about it. how would bakugo react lol. thanks!!!!

♬ ₊˚. dental appts w bakugo katsuki !! .🎧⋆✧ sfw / fluff / light mentions of nsfw / mentions of mouth poking

female reader

hi anon !! this is such a funny request i HAD to do this !!! i literally giggled when i read it :3 that’s so silly i bet he’d be so flustered, enjoy <3

the cuties song -> www.spotify.com (LMFAOO)

your boyfriend, katsuki, was driving you to your dental appointment today. you two were doing the usual, listening to music and talking occasionally as you gaze out the window. you usually don’t like going to the dentist, but you knew you had to get a few things checked eventually.

once katsuki pulled into the parking lot, you grabbed your purse and your phone and hopped out of his car - fixing your hair in the window once you shut the door. “let’s go!” katsuki shouts, you huff - moving another strand of hair into place and catching up to him.

“you look fine, baby.” he grumbles, pulling your hand into his - you shoot him a quick smile before walking in the doors. once you’re inside katsuki speaks to the receptionist at the counter and lends her your information as you look around, you haven’t been to the dentist in forever.

eventually you two sit down, katsuki crosses a calf over his knee and puts his arm around you - watching the kids fondly and glaring at the men that walked past and looked at you. you pull out your small compact mirror and fix your hair once more, earning a small chuckle from katsuki.

“what?” “nothin’ you’re just cute..” a pink hue frames your cheeks and you look back into the tiny mirror, suddenly the door entering the dentists office calls out your name and you both stand up - following the woman into the room where the dentist is at.

“hello ms.[last name], take a seat.” the dentist greets you kindly and you sit, katsuki sitting in the other chair in the room. the dentist looks at your records and assures everything is fine with your teeth and that they just want to do a short checkup to double check that everything is normal.

you sit back once you hand katsuki your purse and essentials, opening your mouth for the dentist to examine. as he’s poking around in your mouth he stops for a second and gives you a look, you look back at him quizzically and he just chuckles - glancing at katsuki as well.

“what? is there somethin’ wrong?” katsuki questions, sitting up in the chair. the dentist tells him there’s nothing wrong, but that there seems to be some.. bruising, in the back of your mouth. katsuki coughs at his confession and you glance between katsuki and the dentist, suddenly - you start giggling. your face has turned a light shade of pink that the dentist points out, which just turns the hue darker as the dentist continues the teasing.

katsuki stares at the dentist with wide eyes and sits back in the chair, clearly embarrassed. “it’s quite alright, it doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong. it’s just always funny to notice and tease the patients about, don’t worry - this is not an uncommon thing.” he speaks as he clicks his mouse against the mousepad, eventually he spins back around in his chair toward you and tells you that everything is fine and that you don’t have to come back until a few months pass.

you thank him and grab your things from katsuki, before you two could walk out the dentist stops you - “make sure to not get another bruise, now.” katsuki stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at the dentist “wh—- hey!” before he could continue you place a hand on his chest and push him out, “sorry, and yes sir - i won’t.”

the dentist smiles at you both fondly as you walk out, katsuki keeping a tight grip on your waist as you make it to his car. before you open the car door you place a hand on your forehead, giggling breathlessly to yourself - “oh my, that was so embarrassing.” “yeah it sure fuckin’ was, why’d he care so much anyway?” katsuki mumbles to himself as he gets in the car.

you get in as well and place a hand on his arm, “don’t worry, now that we know in advance we’ll do something else before going to the dentist.” you flutter your eyelashes at him and he just gives you a “really?” look. you laugh at his silent response and he puts the car in reverse, revving loudly before backing out and speeding off.

—

yay !! this was actually so fun to write and super easy !! thanks for the amazing and silly request !! i love requests like these :)

REQUESTS : OPEN

[cosmos-coma]

My Sun, My Star- Part 3

A/N: I feel like I’ve been writing and editing this forever but I think I’m finally done! I had a lot of requests for the Winter Soldier meeting his baby and so here we are! Besides a small epilogue this will probably be the last direct chapter of My Sun, My Star. Hope you’ve enjoyed!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader / Winter soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 4996

Warnings: Blood, fear of kidnapping/death, threats of violence, swearing, pregnancy/labor/birth, GN reader (no pronouns), but pregnant reader, blood, canon-level violence, rare use of Y/n (let me know if I missed things)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Ko-fi?

________

“And you promise this is safe?” Bucky asked tentatively, his brow drawn together as he frowned in concern. His arms would have been crossed tight across his chest had one hand not been occupied holding yours. 

“It’s the safest thing anyone could do,” Maria assured him from across the table, “it should only take about 40 minutes. We just need someone to make sure everything is set up properly in the safe house. There's some light cleaning and we need to make sure that the locks are good, the thermostat works, and the signal jammers are functional” she explained at length. 

Today they were receiving a low-tier HYDRA agent that had recently defected. Fearing for his and his partner's life they sought refuge with what remained of SHEILD, promising to spill whatever secrets he needed to keep them safe. However, in the off chance it was all a ruse, they set up signal jammers so there’d be no chance of the agent alerting HYDRA or anyone else that may compromise the location.

“If it helps we can even keep the house under surveillance just in case. There’s plenty of cameras on the surrounding houses we can use to keep an eye out,” Maria continued, looking across the table to you this time.

You rubbed your enlarged belly, nearly bursting at the seams as you were due just a few days from now. Bucky had been the perfect companion while you were stuck at home, getting you anything you could possibly need, making sure you didn’t tip over, and keeping you entertained while you were mostly couch and bed-bound. 

But now you were bored out of your mind, beyond tired of sitting on the couch at home all day and night, so why wouldn’t you take an easy job and the bit of money that goes with it? You can waddle around for a while to check some things out. You might be a little slow, but it couldn’t be more than an hour at most. What’s the harm in that?

 “I’d love to, when do I start?” 

Bucky did not have a good feeling about this.

____

It started as any other day; fairly quiet and mundane, and although it would be boring to anyone else, you were just happy to see something other than the inside of your apartment. You pulled the car to a stop in the driveway, looking up at the nice yet bland little house that sat before you. It was a good-looking neighborhood just an hour outside of the city, with decently spaced houses and gardens dotting the lawns here and there. And if you were anybody else it’d be your perfect suburban dream.

After a brief moment of struggling to squish your belly past the steering wheel you finally managed to hobble out, “Ha ha! See? Pregnancy isn’t so hard… I make this look easy,” you boasted to yourself with a grand smile as you stepped out of the car. You took a moment to dig your knuckles into your lower back as you exited, trying to chase away the pain you felt. It had started aching something awful on your way out here, cresting and falling in small waves, but it was nothing you couldn’t work around. You’d lay down eventually and you're sure it would right itself in no time.

You waved to the cameras pleasantly as you walked to the front door, clicking the key into the lock and punching in the ever-changing security code Maria gave you. Unlocking with a lighthearted mechanical chirp you stepped inside and looked around.

It was pretty bare bones; just the basic necessities- food, water, a couple of games, and a shelf of books to pass the time with. Curtains were drawn tight over the windows, keeping the place veiled in shadowy darkness and prying eyes out as you took your first few steps in. Closing the door behind you with a soft click you pulled out your phone to text Maria.

‘Testing testing 123,’ you sent, pausing a moment before giving a satisfactory nod as it refused to go through. The jammers seemed to be working just fine. 

Bucky had been thoroughly against it when he heard there’d be signal jammers; he did not want you anywhere you couldn’t contact him with your due date so soon. But Maria assured him (as much as she could) that you’d still be able to call if needed- and vice versa- but that you’d have to use the tapped landline hanging inside the kitchen. 

You hummed softly as you went about your work, ignoring the discomfort that ran down your back and stomach as you moved. You were just about halfway through your list when you felt your belly begin to quake, “Ohhh, hey. Okay, I know you probably wanna sit down, but we’ve barely started,” You winced as you rubbed your stretched-out skin, only to be met with a sharp kick. 

“Ow! Okay! okay, maybe 5 minutes on the couch first…,” You held both your back and your stomach as you waddled toward the couch slowly, surely looking like quite the sight had anyone been around to see it. 

Clink clink clink

You paused as you heard the front door jiggle. 

No one was supposed to be here for hours yet.

It jiggled again, and this time you heard the voices of several people standing outside. 

“There’s a car outside, he’s got to be here” you barely made out as the first voice mumbled, “if not him, then his partner- And I won’t be going back empty-handed,” another chimed in.

“We’ll find a way to keep him silent. Whether with his blood or theirs.”

Your stomach dropped.

They must’ve been HYDRA agents. Were they here for the defector? How on earth did they find this place? 

But there was no time to think as the landline rang loudly from the kitchen. Wincing, you prayed to anyone who would listen that they wouldn’t hear it- but no such luck.

The door rattled again, violently this time, and was followed by mumbled threats to an agent you had never met.

Panic coursed through your body as you waddled quickly through the house, head turning this way and that as you searched desperately for a place to hide. 

‘Can’t fit under the bed, the bathroom is too obvious, the kitchen is too open, I can’t go outside, and I can’t fight my way out…’ Your brain ran through endless possibilities, unhappy with each one as you clutched your stomach.

Pew pew

You recognized the sound of muffled gunshots immediately, they were quieted by a silencer- a terrifying thought- but you recognized them all the same as they shot through the security pad outside the door. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you cursed as you bolted toward your last choice, darting into the closest bedroom and tucking yourself behind the closet’s sliding doors, pulling them closed with a swift slam just as the front door busted in. 

‘Deep breaths… Deep breaths…,’ You tried to slow your frantic breathing as footsteps entered the otherwise silent house. You desperately wished there were clothes, anything, in this closet you could hide beneath but it was as bare as the rest of the house. Sitting down, you curled into the furthest corner of the closet you could, forcing your heavy breaths into silence as you raked your brain for any solution you could.

‘Ah! My phone!! I can text for help!’ You scrambled to pull your phone from your pocket and quickly typed out a message to Bucky. Hopefully, he’d alert the others and be the first to come to your rescue. 

“No, no, no, no…” you groaned quietly, “Why isn’t it sending?” You shook your phone angrily as it continued to refuse you and sighed in defeat when you finally remembered the jammers set up throughout the house. Your only hope now was the landline in the kitchen….

“Spread out,” the HYDRA leader commanded as he made his way into the house, picking up your bag that you so carelessly left out, “Find whoever’s here, and do whatever you need to bring them in. As long as they’re breathing, I don’t care how they come back,” He ordered, several pairs of feet breaking away immediately to search through the house. 

You pulled your knees as close to your chest as you could, tears prickling your eyes as you tried to think of a way out. You weren’t even sure when the tears started to run, your mind growing numb as you thought of bad ending after bad ending. Doors slammed on the floor above you, making you flinch as you knew that at any moment it could be yours. You were trapped

But you had to be calm- Bucky would want you to remain calm. You could think of a way out, you knew you could, you just needed to take a deep breath. What would Bucky tell you to do? 

 You had just managed to get yourself somewhat calm again when a sudden wetness took over your lower half. Panic set in again as you scrambled to see over your ballooned belly, fearfully wishing this wasn’t what you thought it was. But as an even worse pain tore through you, like knives jabbing into your pelvis, you knew you weren’t mistaken. 

Your water just broke.

——-

Technicians clacked away at their keyboards with lightning speed as Maria Hill entered the room. They had called her not too long ago, alerting her of an urgent matter- but even she couldn’t have guessed what this was about. 

“There’s been a security breach…” the head technician announced as she flicked across their various screens to show her. “They weren’t subtle about it, I’m not sure if they wanted us to know or if they just didn’t care, but-“ 

“What did they take?” Maria interrupted, trying to get to the point.

“That’s the thing… they bypassed all our important files, the only file they actually opened was the one containing the safe house addresses…” she looked up at Hill with an expression that could only be described as nauseous, “We tried calling Y/n, but there was no answer…,” she bit her lip as she finished, even she obviously expected the worst.

Maria’s jaw clenched. She knew Barnes was going to kill her as soon as he found out, but she couldn’t just keep it from him either- “Pull up the security footage of house #6… now. Right now….” Her pen clicked nervously in her hand as she waited for it to come up, her stomach dropping as she saw a dark SUV in the driveway, the front door left partially open, and the security panel completely down. 

“Rewind it…” she ordered, clicking her pen faster and- “Shit. This is…. Not ideal…” Maria said, obviously trying to keep her voice level and professional. 

She stood behind her technicians, watching the back-tracked security film play the video of trained agents pulling up to the safe house and shooting in the door. 

“Alert the team… I need to make a call.” 

She slowed the clicking of her pen as the phone rang, barely getting out one full ring before it was immediately answered.

“Where do I need to be?” His voice was low, anger barely being held back on its tight leash. He already expected the worst and unfortunately, this time he was right.

“Sargeant Barnes, we have a situation... I’m sending you the address now.”

————

Horns blared as Bucky swerved onto the shoulder, speeding past traffic as he made his way to the safe house. His knuckles were a ghastly white as he gripped the steering wheel like a vice, the creaking of steel beneath his hands the only thing keeping him connected to the present.

He should have never let Maria talk you into it, or at the very least he should have been there to help you. 

“Sergeant Barnes, we have a situation… I’m sending you the address now” Maria said.

“What kind of situation…?” His voice had been deathly low, barely restraining the anger it held. He made a beeline for the car as soon as he saw Maria’s name flash on the screen. He’d had his phone in hand all morning just for this exact scenario.

He could hear her frown through the phone and his skin burned with worrisome anger as she spoke, “HYDRA’s broken into the safe house… we’ve tried to contact Y/n but there was no answer. They’re still there, no one has left, and as far as we know there’s been no shots fired besides at the front door.”

He nodded curtly as he hung up, putting the car into gear and peeling out of the lot with a roaring screech of his tires. He couldn’t count the number of laws he broke as he tore through the city’s endless streets racing against an invisible clock.

Out of nowhere his arm jerked to the side, pulling him from his thoughts as he narrowly missed a stopped car before him. Stunned breaths caught in his chest as he realized what a close call it was, literally inches from disaster. 

His body had acted without thinking, moving almost like it had a mind of its own… it was only when the back of his mind began to itch and squirm did he know why. 

 “Shit...” he sighed. The Winter Soldier must’ve sensed what was going on, digging himself toward the forefront of Bucky’s mind to take over. Bucky was still in control for now, but he wasn’t sure how much longer it would last.

“I guess I owe you a thanks,” he begrudgingly mumbled to himself, focusing once more on the road ahead. He was just 25 minutes out and he prayed he’d get there in time.

Continuing down the road he shifted uncomfortably; the Winter Soldier’s presence didn’t fade, but it didn’t press any further either. It was almost like he was… waiting for permission? 

Bucky shook his head. 23 minutes out.

He knew you trusted the assassin, and after watching the videos of your last interaction he… trusted him too- to a point. But even with this iota of trust, his instincts still had him hesitating to relinquish control. What if it didn’t have a happy ending this time? What if he went too far? What if he couldn’t come back…?  The fear had been ingrained in him so long ago that he wasn’t sure he could ever fully give it up. 

But he may not have a choice anymore. If what Hill said was right then there were at least 6 agents waiting for him and he was completely unarmed. There was only one person he knew that could bring both of you out in one piece…

“Fuck,” Bucky swore. He knew what he had to do. Speeding passed the last car in his way, he pulled out into the empty straight-away before him. Bright blue eyes stared back at him through the rear-view mirror as he sighed, “Don’t make me regret this…” 

Pain rippled through his skull, ringing as if his head was stuck inside a church bell. Haze crept into his sight as the edges of his vision blurred and he let himself fully slide into the backseat of his consciousness. His shoulders shifted slowly, rolling as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. The soft material caved under his metal fingers with a wretched creak, leaving ripples in the leather-covered metal. 

As the cloud of pain finally passed, burning away like early morning fog, he pulled the rear-view mirror down. A familiar dark aura surrounded his gaze as he watched himself, trained and sharp as he nodded to his reflection. 

He wasn’t Bucky anymore.

“Вы не будете [you won’t].” 

————

“No no no no…. Not right now, please. Anything, but this-“ you paused your mumbling as footsteps passed right in front of the room, “-Okay maybe not anything, but still….” 

You held your breath, tensing as another contraction passed through you and you willed yourself not to make a sound, but it was getting harder and harder each time. It dawned on you that you must have been having contractions this whole time. That pain in your back when you started driving down, the quaking of your belly, it was all a part of your labor- you just didn’t realize until your water finally broke.

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, not at the pain but at the horror of your situation; There was no way to get out without being seen, you were far too slow for that in your current state and you were bound to be bagged and shoved in a van as soon as they caught you. However, you couldn’t wait and hope to give birth in this closet either; the moment she comes out she’s going to be a screaming mess and then you’ll both be in a vulnerable state.

‘Where is Bucky…?’ You thought as tears clouded your vision, your fingers redialing him from memory alone even if you knew it would never go through, ‘please, please… I have to do something…’

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes as you furiously rubbed the tears away, again trying to remain calm. ‘Okay, think… think… maybe I can slip out through the window…? If I’m quiet enough maybe I can take my time with it?’ You thought as you peeked through the slats in the closet doors. 

You hoped that the windows wouldn’t be locked as you looked down at your phone again, trying to time out your contractions, ‘Okay…. After the next one hits we’ll just make a break for the window.. that should be more than enough time to get myself out, right? Thank god I hid on the first floor.’

You waited until your next contraction hit, biting down on your lip to keep yourself quiet. You breathed furiously through your nose to try to keep your composure and began to taste iron as blood spilled into your mouth.  But you didn’t care- you couldn’t afford to.

“Shit, shit, okay…” you breathed as it finally passed, slowly shifting onto your hands and knees, reaching for the knob when- 

Click

You heard the door to the room click open and footsteps come inside. Quickly covering the gasp that threatened to escape, you eased back down slowly. Fear froze your entire body, you didn’t even realize when you started holding your breath, but you weren’t about to let it go now.

You wasted your time and now you were stuck here; dear god were you gonna die in a closet? This is not how you imagined yourself going. 

Through the slats in the closet doors, you watched the agent check the room, under the bed, under the desk- he had just started to leave when he stopped in front of the closet doors, his feet turning to face you.

Your heart squeezed painfully as every part of you waited with bated breath. You heard his hand fall on the knob. This was it. The moment he opened it he was bound to see you. You had nowhere left to hide. 

You only hoped it would be quick. 

You closed your eyes as you heard the closet door begin to open. You were sure you had been seen until- 

“Hm?” The agent said as he turned toward the commotion happening in the other room. His hand left the knob and you watched as his shadow quietly slink away toward the sound of growing struggle and gunfire. 

Was now your chance..?

BANG

‘NOPE!’ You screamed in your head as gunfire went off right outside the room's door, accompanied by the heavy thud of a body and cloth on tile as it was dragged away. Boots squelched against the hall's sleek floors, coming closer until they transitioned to the sound-absorbing carpet of the room. 

Braving a peek through the thin slats you saw blood-covered boots, different ones than the agent just before, but the same terror filled you as you noticed them facing you. 

Your breath burned as you held it still in your lungs, your whole body tense with anxiety. Did someone hear you? Did they know you were here? You had kept yourself so hidden, how did they know?

“Ты не сможешь спрятаться от меня, дорогая... Я узнаю свое солнце где угодно [you can’t hide from me, darling… I’d know My Sun anywhere].”

You knew that voice... You knew that voice..!

Cautiously, holding your stomach close you peeked past the sliver of an opening, “My Star…?” 

He was covered in smatterings of blood from his head to his boots, yet thankfully none of it seemed to be his own. Despite his slightly battered and blood-covered appearance, his darkened eyes swam with reverence and relief as his strange little smile shined brighter than his namesake. You couldn’t be sure exactly when the assassin’s persona had come out, but you were beyond glad he was here.

“My star!” You beamed and scrambled to your feet to launch yourself at the Assassin, only making it halfway off the floor before crumbling back into a tight ball. You yelled, tears flowing once more as you finally put voice to the pain of your contractions, they were coming on much quicker now. 

Obvious worry flashed across his face as he rushed in to catch you, gently easing you onto the floor. Hands roamed over you in a cursory search as he spoke, trying to find the source of your pain, “My Sun? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” 

You whimpered as the pain lingered, wisps of it swirling across your stomach and hips before finally settling away, “Ah…. No, I’m fine- mostly fin…” you shuddered as you clung tight to his arms, trying to stand. 

“I’ve got you…” The Soldier soothed with a murmur, his voice surprisingly sweet in your ear as he whispered soft words, “You’re okay now….” Careful eyes scanned over your body again as you were scooped off the ground by two strong arms, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he saw you were indeed unharmed. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care for the way blood stained your clothes and smeared across your skin as you were held fast against his chest. He held you like you were everything delicate about the world, and to him you were. Turning his face into your neck he breathed in every part of you- the fear, the sweetness, the grime, the love; he wanted to breathe in every moment that he had missed.

“My Sun, how long has it been..? You’ve grown so much…,” Adoration pooled in his once frigid eyes as they washed over you. As steady as he could manage he settled you on the small heap of pillows making their home on the bed. His large warm hand was like a godsend as he pressed it against your aching belly, his touch seeming to quell everything- even for just a moment. 

“4 months…” you replied, all your focus was on breathing through your nose while your hands absentmindedly went to remove your pants, finding difficulty when your nearly 9-month belly got in the way. 

“4 months… so this-” His voice paused as he stepped in to help remove your pants. His eyes cast down to your belly, seemingly searching for a moment before looking back up at you, and for once you saw the Winter Soldier’s darkened gaze filled with never-ending light. “I finally get to meet her..?” his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he spoke, his words filled with disbelief, “I get to meet our girl…?” he whispered as if he was scared that speaking too loud would surely jinx it. 

Your lips cracked into a small smile as you watched him, your heart fluttering all the more as he spoke in hushed tones. You nodded as you took his hand against your quaking belly, “It’s time… But I can’t do this on my own,” you looked up at him with big eyes, ones that spoke of urgency and need, “I don’t know if anyone else is coming, and I don't know if we have time to wait for them either,” you said, looking at him in hopes that he’d begin to understand. “I need you to help me when she comes, okay? I… I think I need you to deliver her.”

Light-filled blue eyes faltered as he looked from you to your stomach and back again. His hands were used to taking life from this world, not bringing it in. Not to mention that, unlike Bucky, He did not have the time nor the resources to read parenting books; he was completely unprepared for a mission like this and for once he actually found himself scared. 

“Ah… My Sun, I-” he started. What if he messed it up? What if he hurt her? … What if he really was only good at one thing- killing? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if this went wrong- and he knew his gentler half wouldn’t either.

“I’ll try to walk you through it, okay? Please?” you begged as you squeezed his hand. You were terrified, plain and simple, but between the two of you- you were the only one with hours of anxiety-filled Google searches under your belt and for now, that would just have to do.

His eyes shot back up to yours, searching your gaze for a moment before nodding, “Okay, My Sun… anything you ask…” he promised. And he did, anything and everything you asked of him he was quick to get, whether it was more pillows, washing the blood from his face, or giving you his hand so you could break it as you squeezed.

Your contractions began getting closer and closer until they were only mere minutes apart. Pain ripped through every fiber of your muscles, every shard of your bone, and every cell of your organs as your baby girl squirmed to be free. 

“I can’t… I can’t hold her in anymore…” you said wearily, your hair probably this way and that, but all you knew was how tired you were already. Your eyelids hung half-lidded as you looked up at him, pressing his cool metal hand further into your flushed cheek. You were a mess, you were damp all over and red in the face and grouchy beyond belief but you were still a shining sun in the vibrant sky of his blue eyes.

He nodded and quickly moved between your legs, not letting the sight phase him as he readied himself exactly as you instructed. He was going to be calm for you, despite the way the assassin inside him yelled that he was unprepared. He had done plenty of missions with only a sliver of knowledge to go on- he wouldn’t let it stop him now.

“You’ve done great, My sun. The long part is over and now you have just a little bit more,” he said, giving you words of encouragement- just as you instructed. “You're going to do amazing, and I know that she is going to be as perfect as you in every way,” Despite your request for encouragement there was nothing but complete honesty in his tone. He believed every word he said to you and for the first time in this entire pregnancy, you truly thought you could do this too. 

It took only 4 pushes and the cost of feeling in the Soldier’s fingers before the most blessed cries filled the air. Your baby’s sweet chubby face wailed the world’s sorrows as the Soldier held her delicately in his once-bloodied hands. Despite her red face and angry cries, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He would have taken down a hundred agents- a thousand if it meant he got to see her face for the first time again. 

“Моя прекрасная девочка... Несмотря на то, что ты плачешь и кричишь с первых вдохов, ты - самое замечательное существо, которое я когда-либо видел. [My beautiful girl… even though you cry and scream with your very first breaths you are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen],” he whispered to her writhing little form, quickly cutting and tying the cord before wrapping her snuggly in your jacket. Her cries quieted and her kicking feet slowed to a stop as the soothing rumble of his voice reached her ears- almost as if she recognized it. 

After a few more frustrated grunts, her formerly closed eyes slid open. Radiant blue’s gazed back at him, like a still ocean they seemed to reflect his own perfectly. “У нее мои глаза... Дорогая, у нее мои глаза [She has my eyes… Darling, she has my eyes],” he looked up at you with a joy so innocent you could never have imagined the things he had done in his lifetime. There was another piece of him in the world now, a piece beyond the bloodshed and dark shadows he knew- something clean and new, and perfect.

Your heart swelled beyond measure as you watched the Winter Soldier hold his tiny daughter, his gaze filled with adoration as if he had never known anything less. He was a sight to behold as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against her little one as she gazed up at him in wonder.

Despite the tiredness you felt deep in your bones you fought hard to stay awake, utterly transfixed by the scene before you. In all your life you couldn’t have imagined today going the way it did, but you couldn’t have asked for a better end to it. 

As you watched the once fearsome Winter Soldier laugh as she gripped his finger with all her might, you could think of nothing to do except pull your phone out and snap a photo- you were going to cherish this photo forever as a memory that would always last.

__________

Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity@simpxinnie@mirtaqueen@blackhawkfanatic@mcira@aagn360@nialiuwanderlust@waywardhunter95 @goldylions

thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged this chapter! If you want to be added to the general Bucky taglist please DM me!

[x-reader-theater]

Breaking and Entering {1}

summary: Someone breaks into your flat through the window, and you don't have enough energy left to care.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Gender Neutral!Reader

word count: 1801

warnings: The Reader is described as having depression and suicidal ideations. Nothing is done about it, but it's very obvious so if you don't think you can handle that please do not read.

a/n: this is also going to be a series, but i have no idea how long it's going to take to finish it or how long it's gonna be. also if you haven't seen, my requests are open and you can find my request rules here.

Breaking and Entering Series: {Chapter 1}, {Chapter 2}, (You can also use the tag #breaking and entering series as well if you don't want to use links)

It was supposed to be a normal night. Lonely. Depressed. It was going to be the perfect terrible night.

So of course someone had to ruin it.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, about to disassociate and share at the wall across from you for eight hours, when you have to go back to work, when you hear a loud crash coming from beside you.

“Shit!” you exclaim, jumping back and over the back of your chair, stumbling over it and smacking the back of your head on your old wooden floors.

“Shit,” you hear a low, gravely voice say from where the smashing sound came from.

Your vision is blurry for a moment, but it clears as you see a skull leaning over you. The skull talks, but your ears have started ringing, subsiding right as he finishes talking.

“What?” you ask, dazed and probably a lot more calm for someone who just had a floating skull smash through what was probably their window, but you’re too dazed right now to really care.

“I said,” the heavily accented skull says and as your vision clears, you see the skull isn't actually floating, but is attached to a body covered in what looks to be some sort of tactical gear. “Sit up. I want to have a look at your head.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you say, before slowly sitting up. The man holds out his arm, and you feel his hand on your back push you up as well. He shifts, so he’s looking at the back of you, and you stare forward at the wall, trying to get your senses back.

“I don't see a wound,” the man mumbles, probably just intended for himself, but you definitely heard. You’re just too shocked to say anything. The man sits in front of you again, his hand still on your back as he pulls out what looks to be a pen light. He holds it up in front of your eyes, and you move away from it, but he reaches out with the hand holding the light and places it gently on your cheek, pushing your head, so it’s facing you again. “Stay still.” Gus gruff voice is contradictory to how gentle he's handling you right now. “I need to look at your pupillary response.”

You try to sit still, though you still jump at the bright light. He flashes the light in your eye and away and back again a couple of times, moving onto the second one and doing the same, before finally clicking it off again. You sigh in relief.

“Response looks good, but you should probably have someone monitor you in case something happens,” the man says. “Does anyone else live here?”

“No,” you say, probably unwisely but, again, you’re exactly sound of mind right now.

“Do you have anyone you can call? A friend or a neighbour? Someone who might stay with you and take care of you?”

You shake your head, but instantly regret it as it causes a lance of pain to shoot through your skull. You hiss and clutch at your temple.

“Careful,” the man admonishes, his voice gentler than it has been. “You don't have anyone?”

“No,” you say, watery and thick with building mucus. You blink a few times to drive the tears back as you are suddenly faced with how lonely you really are.

The man hums, but doesn’t say anything more, instead opting to ask, “What’s your name?”

You wipe at your eyes to get any stray tears and say with a tight throat, “[Y/N]. What about you?”

“You can call me Ghost,” is all he says.

You chuckle. “Terrifying,” you mock. You think you hear a laugh coming from the man, but underneath that skull mask you can’t tell. You get up and walk over to the freezer, grabbing a Ziplock bag you left on the counter a little while ago. You fill the baggie with ice before walking back over to the table and flipping the chair back onto its feet before sitting down again. Pressing the ice to the back of your head, you wince as you ask, “What are you anyways? What are you doing in my flat?”

“It's classified,” Ghost says.

“Ooooooooooooh,” you draw out, nodding. “You're military, aren't ya?” When the man doesn’t answer, you make a clicking sound with your teeth. “Right. Classified.”

“I could be a murderer,” the man says suddenly.

“I mean, so could I,” you say, just as cryptically as he did. “Besides. If you really are in the military like I totally think you are, you probably have killed people so, you’re probably right that you’re a murderer. But I’m also not a soldier so if you did kill me that would be like, some sort of violation of something, right? If not totally illegal,” you ramble, using your one free arm to gesture wildly as you talk.

“Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” Ghost asks finally after you take a pause.

You stare at him, taken aback by the question before saying, “Uh, aha… you could say that my will to live is currently… wilted, at the moment.”

Ghost stares at you for a long moment, for several moments even, and you fidget underneath his gaze. When you glance at his eyes, you see they’re a deep brown, almost black, ringed with black eye makeup to conceal anything that could give away his identity, you guess.

When he finally speaks again, he says, “Maybe you could use a friend right now.”

You stare at him blankly, and say, “Yes, I want the masked soldier man who broke through my window to be my friend…”

“Do you have much of a choice otherwise?” Ghost asks and your mouth clicks shut with a clack of your teeth. You look away, dropping the hand with the ice and wrapping your arms around your body.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you ask, finally raising your eyes and catching Ghost’s stare.

“Because I’ve been you,” he states plainly. “You’re better off alive than dead.”

The way he says it so plainly, in a way you’ve never heard before, it makes your heart thud in your chest, like it hasn't beat for so long that no it finally is, it has to work in overdrive to pump blood through your veins. You've gotten the pitying glances, you’ve felt the patronising slaps on the shoulder, and you’ve heard the infuriating “It will get better soon” speeches.

But this six foot, masked, most likely military, stranger, telling you he was just like you? Somehow, that's what makes you have a little hope. Because he’s still here.

“There must be something wrong with you to want to be friends with someone whose window you just crashed through,” you judge, putting the ice back against your head.

Ghost sighs but gets up, going to your oven and grabbing the tea towel. He walks back over to you and gently pries the baggie of ice from your hand, wrapping it up in the towel and placing it back on the back of your head, moving your hand, so it’s placed on top of his before he slips his hand out from under yours. “I think there’s always been something a little wrong with me,” he says, and you look up at him standing over you, that white skull with brown eyes looking down and through you. You expect him to say something serious, but instead he says, “I’m wearing a fuckin’ mask, there’s obviously something wrong with me.”

You stare at him for a moment before bursting out laughing, wrapping your free arm around your stomach as you howl out laughter, probably more laughter than the situation required, but you just can’t stop. Eventually you suck in large lungfuls of air, hiccuping as you try and catch your breath, wiping your eyes for the second time today, but this time for a different reason.

When you catch your breath, you look over at Ghost who has sat down again, and you see his eyes are crinkled and his shoulders and bouncing up and down, and you realise he’s laughing as well.

You watch as he laughs, realising he’s been tense since the moment he got here. Now, he seems relaxed and open. You can see the laughter in his eyes before he closes them and throws his head back in bliss. This, human connection, laughing with someone else, just being near someone who doesn’t hate you, you think it could help fix you. Maybe not entirely, you’ll need more help for that, therapy and maybe some drugs, but having someone else, it could really help you.

And you don’t want to lose that.

“Will you come back?” you ask while Ghost is still laughing. He takes a moment to catch his breath, steadying himself again.

“When I’m in town, I’ll stop by,” he says, his voice sounding inhumanly steady after laughing so hard for so long. The control he has over himself makes him even more alluring.

You smile and nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You feel your eyes begin to get heavy, and you ask, “Is it okay for me to sleep?”

Ghost nods. “You don’t have a concussion. But I’ll stay until I have to go.”

“No one’s going to follow you here, right?” you ask, laying your head down on the table and placing the towel-wrapped bag of ice on the table next to your face.

Ghost chuckles guiltily. “No, I think before I smashed through your window, I lost them.”

“Why did you crash through my window?” you ask, fading off to sleep.

“I slipped,” you hear Ghost’s low voice mumble as it lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Ghost is gone. In his place there’s a small sticky note like the ones in a drawer in your kitchen, a pen that looks like it’s from that drawer as well. Probably because it is from that drawer, you realise as you rub your eyes to try and get them to work again. When they finally clear a little more, you see that the sticky note is a lot bigger than it should be. Grabbing it and pulling it towards you, you see there’s money folded neatly underneath it. Unfolding it, you see a couple hundred dollars, and on the note it says, “Sorry for your window.”

Looking over at the window, you see Ghost has patched up the window temporarily with a rubbish bag and some tape. You have no idea how he could have slipped and fallen into your seventh story flat, but you also don’t really care. You clutch the note to your chest with a smile, the first real smile you’ve felt in years.

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Four - That You Are

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my favourite so far

warnings: mentions of violence and blood, arranged marriage

song: That You Are - Hozier

You let your eyes wander. 

It was not a rarity for the king to request to dine in the gardens, though you don’t understand why he never has a tent put up so one might not suffer so much beneath the mid-day sun. 

It is still summer, the last inklings of it clawing uncomfortably at your dignity as you excessively fan yourself, just below the line of impropriety. 

Your sister has clicked her tongue at you multiple times now, in hopes that you might calm yourself, but you cannot and you will not relinquish your only means to cool down the tiniest bit. 

To your right sits Benji. Actually sits and does not lurk behind you or a few feet away, as your father, so very graciously had ordered him to take a seat and is now boasting over how smart the deal he made with the Brackens and the Blackwoods is and how only a true king could come up with such skilled thinking. 

You’re fairly certain that this could not have come from the little bit of dazed brain he must have left but nobody speaks out, least of all Benji, who simply nods and every now and then thanks the king. 

It’s all quite arduous to sit through and your mind keeps circling back to the end of town and wondering whether the medicine you had made in a hurry two nights ago was doing what it was supposed to do. 

Marion had gone bright red in the face when you had informed her of your indiscreet meeting in the dungeons but you cannot seem to muster up even an ounce of concern over having shared your secret with Benji. 

Quite the opposite, actually. 

You allow yourself a stolen glance at him and this newfound sensation overwhelms you again. You cannot figure it out, incapable of identifying the strings that pull at your heart, but it has fluttered up ever since you had entrusted him with your concoction, grown stronger still, when he gave you a clandestine wink to inform you that everything had arrived safely and where it should be. 

Cordelia nudges you beneath the table. “Did you hear a word he just said to you?”

You frown. “Tristan didn’t say anything.”

“No, but father did. You are to begin a courtship with the young Lord Cathcart.”

Your heart drops to your feet, hand clutching onto your sister’s before you glance up to see a wide-smiled Lady Cathcart, her spider-like fingers curled around the king’s biceps. 

Just then your father lays his eyes upon you and smirks. “Is that not wonderful news? And your knight will be there to protect your honour throughout this. Before we know it, there will be more grandchildren roaming the world.” That last part he directs at his mistress, with a beyond disturbing wiggle of his brows. 

You look at Cordelia and Tristan, both of them blank faced. 

Benji swirls the wine in his cup from side to side and nobody speaks for an awfully long amount of time.

The other advisors at the table do not seem thrilled either. 

House Cathcart births unpleasant people, to put it quite kindly. Their Lady was a great example, an insufferable little parasite, clearly seeking to fuck her way into power and sparing nothing but ill-temper and rude words for anybody she does not view as important. 

She is an embodiment of sleaze, if one that has been blessed with wonderful teeth and hair. 

Her younger brother is not much different. You had heard the ladies of the court whisper about his disgusting lack of manners. 

“Father, might I remind you that I have many offers from much…,” you pause, contemplating whether you would actually like to speak your mind. “Well much more esteemed birth.”

Apparently your father has had enough of your face because he no longer makes the effort to look at you. “And yet, you have not enticed them. You will begin your travels to visit him tomorrow.” 

You desperately try to think of a young nobleman you would prefer to spend time with, yet your mind goes blank, your brain one continuous noise of a warhorn being sounded.

You let go of your sister’s hand and scrape your knife across your plate as the conversation resumed, occasional attempts of naming other highborn heirs, perhaps even from another kingdom.

Sure, you think to yourself, might as well remove me from the only home I know. Might as well let me be a cattle to be bred an ocean away.

“Your highness, I believe it is time for your dance lesson,” Benji says. 

Your head snaps up. It is not. 

He nods, the slightest bit, and then turns away. 

You are not certain, but you think the apples of his cheeks are tinted light pink. 

“I must be excused,” you say, as Benji already pulls out your chair for you. 

Cordelia and Tristan exchange a look that you wholeheartedly ignore and yet nobody else bats an eye.

A third-born daughter’s daily schedule is not of importance to them. 

In long strides you walk away from them all, with every inch of distance you can feel your heart cinching, breath shortening and by the time you’re inside the castle, you cannot see straight ahead.

“Hold on one moment, Princess,” he says and grabs your arm to push you down a narrow hallway, his arm around your waist the moment you are hidden from plain sight. Gratefully you lean your whole body weight against his, until you are back in your kitchen. 

With a swift movement you are sat on your chair, hunched over desperately trying to get air into your lungs, even stale and wet dungeon air, tainted by the stark smell of clandestine medicinal practice.

But you cannot. 

Your mother had died shortly after birthing you. Cordelia had struggled through every pregnancy, growing weaker with each child planted in her body and then clawing its way out. 

You think you might hurl. 

“Princess..,” Benji carefully mumbles. 

You try to see him through the blind panic and fury that clouds your mind but your eyes won’t focus, horrible images of what would happen to you. 

“I can’t breathe,” you gasp. 

He kneels in front of you, his hands clutching at yours. “Yes you can.” 

His voice is laced with uncertainty, as though he doesn’t believe his own words.

Firmly you shake your head. “No, get me out.”

He drags his thumb across the soft palm of your hand. “Out of where?”

Another sharp gasp. 

Here, this palace, this family, this kingdom, this world. 

“My corset,” you all but whimper. 

There is a moment of hesitation, where you cannot hear or feel anything but your own soft cries. 

Then he gets up and walks behind you. 

“My god, this thing is built like a trap,” he mumbles, rough fingers fiddling with your bodice. 

You might have laughed at that. 

It takes him long to help you out of it, revealing the fishbone corset, your hands now clawing at your neckline, praying for some sign of sweet release. 

He is taking forever, or maybe he is not but you have lost all sense of time and space.

Finally there is the sound of a barbaric rip and you are left in your linen shift, panting heavily.

You slump forward and bury your head in your hands. 

Unwilling to be seen, or look him in the eyes - eyes that are undoubtedly looking at you with nothing but pity. 

“Princess..,” he whispers again. You can feel one rough hand through the thin fabric as he circles around to your front.

You shake your head, like a child. “He can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

A soft touch against your wrists, softer than you had thought possible from him. “You’re a witch. Just put poison in his wedding night supper,” he says. 

You snort, an ugly sound, much unlike your usual demeanour. “You-” Hiccup. “Speak treason, Ser Benjicot.”

Carefully he interlinks your hands into one and pulls them from your face. Your forehead hurts from where you dug your nails into it. “You’re smart for a capital girl, you will manage.”

His face is kind and warm, a desire to make you smile clearly etched into the twinkle of his eyes.

“I won’t kill my husband. He is not at fault for my father’s failures.” 

Benji huffs. “And I am the one speaking treason.”

You hiccup again. “He is the king but he is my father no less. And he is horrible at both.”

His fingers sweep hair out of your face, unthinkingly, quickly. “His children turned out quite well either way. A benevolent queen, an honourable heir to the throne and a witch.”

Now he manages to make you smile lightly. “My god, what must a lady do for you to not tease her.”

“I would rather not say,” he answers, and you know there is a double meaning there but you don’t know how to decipher it. You have studied the human body but some things will lie beyond your book knowledge.

Until your bedding ceremony, that is.

Your face drops again and you lean back. “Have a seat somewhere, would you? I do not wish for you to crouch in front of me.” 

“I am your knight. Kneeling comes with this duty.”

You huff. “Does ripping up royal corsetry and sneaking potions into town also go along with it?”

He scrapes the chair across the floor and plops down beside you. 

The two of you sit, and though your eyes are set on the cauldron in the corner of the room, you know he is looking at you.

Perhaps he wants you to say that you feel better?

You decidedly do not, this is after all your deepest fear becoming reality.

Benji nudges the tip of his boots against your calf. 

Everything between the two of you is contrasting. 

“We will find a way. The counsel is against his choice as well, he may be the king but he is not a king at heart and soul.”

A deep sigh escapes you, hiccups slowly fading away.

 “Mayhaps he will be overthrown by the time we reach Lord Cathcart’s castle,” Benji adds. 

Would you want it that way? 

Yes. 

Yes you would.

You would not want him dead, you think, but you want Tristan to rule. You want your father to desert the throne and leave it for somebody capable and dignified. 

Somebody who has honour. 

“Won’t you cheer up, little witch. You still have Marion and me to come with you.” 

A hand flies to your mouth. Marion. “She won’t come. And even if she would like to, I will not let her. Her love won’t let her. Her life is here and her family and friends.” Your hands claw at each other, nervously digging into tender flesh. 

Benji hums. The weight of his oath must be a harsh burden to carry. He will never have a choice but to go where you go.

“I am sorry,” you whisper. “For it all. I know you hate it here.”

He shrugs and grabs your hand. To prevent you from scratching it bloody, you’re certain. 

“I am a man of honour and strength. I suppose it is best put to use for your protection. And the occasional smuggling and destruction of dresses far more expensive than my pay.”

You snort. “It didn’t suit me anyways. Made me pale.”

“Told you. I like red best.” 

He winks. “Like the colour of your cheeks turn sometimes.”

With little force you shove him, your fingers still securely interlinked. “Watch it, I’ll begin sobbing again, my knight.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had bid your goodbyes to everyone at dinner tonight.

A courtship, successful or not, could take many moons and this one is nearly set in stone to end in marriage. Your return home, for now, is a distant dream that you can’t put faith into.

Surprisingly many people had grieved over your farewell. 

Much of the courtiers and even more of the staff insisted that they would miss you. 

Cordelia did not leave your side the entire evening and repeated many times that marriage is less scary than one might expect and that for the most time, your husband would likely leave you be. 

Even Tristan, ever so calm at all times, had looked as though he might like to tie you up if that meant you got to stay and you couldn’t help the deep gratitude you felt for Benji’s consistent, calm presence next to you.

Though you couldn’t claim that you were not deeply embarrassed over how dishevelled he had seen you today, even after he had assured you multiple times that he did not care, as you snuck through the secret passageway back to your room, his cape draped around you. 

Marion had wept the most; her waterlike, bendy fingers preparing your hair for dinner, achieving perhaps her finest work yet. 

It seems sadness is the greatest motivator of the human mind, tears streaming down her face and yet leaving your hair in neat braids. She had apologised many times, that she could not go on this journey with you and that she would likely forever miss your generosity, something you felt she was inflating greatly. 

After all, she had risked her position and even her life every single time she snuck you in and out of the castle walls. 

Your fingers cramp around your quill.

Over the course of your meal, you have come up with a plan once again, though this one might be the most idiotic one yet.

You know that almost everyone with blood rushing through their veins inside this castle is opposed to this marriage and maybe there could be another way to get out of it, but you know it would take long and you will not let your father torture you in the mean time.

Droplets of ink stain your wrist as you scratch forcefully across the parchment. 

You are not dense. You had never tried to trick yourself into believing your betrothal would occur from a love match but you had always been able to comfort yourself with the fact that at the very least you were to do something useful to your family line.

Marry into another important house, a house of wealth or with a strong army. Something that would strengthen the crown and its representation in the kingdom. 

Colour drains from your face each time you think about this fate. 

You’d be ridiculed in the history books, married off to a Baron, the lowest of ranks anybody in your line had married into, ever since the claiming of the throne.

No, you must leave and you must do so quickly. 

Your finished letter remains on your pillowcase. 

Wrapped in your velvet robe you peek out of your door into the hallway where the nightwatch had taken Benjicot’s place a few hours ago. 

“Ser Lawrence. Ser Timon. I wish to not be disturbed during my last night in the castle. Any and all visitors must immediately be sent away,” you tell them.

“Yes, your highness.”

Satisfied you go to lock the door, but then quickly remember. 

“Ser Timon, please tell your cousin that he must reapply the bandage and salve everyday.” 

And with that you turn your back.

You switch your robe out for the most simple dress you own.

While Ser Rodrick had still been around, Marion had kept a better disguise hidden in one of the trunks beneath your bed, but when the change of protector was imminent, she had taken it back home, in fear of being caught. 

You slip into a hooded cloak, in hopes it might do more to keep your identity hidden, wrap a satchel filled with jewellery around your waist, in hopes to pay for travels.

You wish you could take your horse.

Fury is a good horse, in your humble opinion, the most empathetic and perfect companion one can ask for.

Weirdly, she reminds you of Benji, now that you contemplate it.

She looks scary; tall and black and when you had gotten her she was unruly and stubborn but that quickly faded.

A terrifying thought crosses your mind suddenly.

What would happen to Benji? If you were to disappear, would he have to die for it?

You halt in the middle of your room.

No.

That is not a price you are willing to pay for your freedom. You could not in good conscience be responsible for such an atrocity.

Maybe they would let him off the hook? After all there had been a deal made with the Blackwoods, perhaps his family would revolt? 

Would your father have his head still? 

And in mere seconds your last bubble of hope had burst and rained onto you in glittering glass shambles. 

Benji was tough to crack and a little rebellious but you won’t have his blood on your hands forever.

You gaze out the window, see the distant sea. 

But you could still sneak out. For one final night. Check on your medicine. Maybe you could find a tavern to spend time in.

Marion had always said that she loved nothing more than to dance with the common folks, telling never-ending stories of how much lively the music is than at your royal balls, how free and funny the people are.

Yes, you might not run away but for once in your life you would simply do what you wanted to do. 

You pull up your hood and slip into the narrow staircase behind your bookcase. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The streets were bustling, even after nightfall, people chatting away, merchants yelling from every corner, sounds of life buzzing in your ear.

You are smiling, weaving through the crowd. A stranger had handed you a daffodil, proclaiming his inn had the best hunter’s stew in all the kingdom.

Another had told you she could read your future from the palm of your hand, which you of course deemed ridiculous, but had let her do anyway.

She told you that you were destined for a great love. Ridiculous, but endearing in a peculiar way. 

Now you were hoping to find that tavern that Marion so loved to frequent. It was called duckling, or something to that extent. An odd name for a place where people go to drink and celebrate. 

But your feet carry you still, steps lighter than air. You had noticed that your boots were a tad too white, and had promptly walked through every possible puddle to blend in. 

It was exhilarating. You know your privileges and you know them well, but while all the rest of the nobles question how the people of lower birth could live like this, you wonder how you could have gone your life without this. 

Every path revealed something exciting. 

When you had snuck out with Marion, she had dragged you through quiet back alleys, to avoid as many people as possible, but now you wonder if she wasn’t also trying to keep you from being drawn into this magical world you are witnessing now.

A shoulder bumps you and you stumble a bit. 

“Oi watch where you’re going,” came a gruff voice and you almost want to laugh, heart melting at the vulgarity of it, but you have the good sense to not.

“I’m sorry, good man.” 

He grunts and goes to move along but then something catches his eye and he stops.

“Where you from?” He asks.

He has a strong build, tall and burly. You try not to let that worry and flash him a smile. “Arbormere.” 

The man steps forward. You don’t step back. Marion and Ser Rodrick had drilled into you for a long time, that fear is one’s worst enemy. 

“Are ya, now? I ain’t ever met a girl from over there.”

You shrug. “I am their queen’s handmaiden. She is visiting her family,” you lie, quick as the wind and then you decide that you should not remain in one place for so long, shuffling to step past him. 

He blocks the way and before you know it he’s grabbed your arm, with enough force to make you shriek in surprise.

You squirm beneath his grip, attempting to meet the eye of a passerby desperately but nobody seems to notice this scene playing out. 

“Let me go,” you order, with as much authority as you can muster.

With too much ease, you are ripped into a side street. It smells rotten and you close your eyes when the back of your head meets the cobbled wall. 

“Pretty girls like ya’self shouldn’t roam foreign streets,” he says. His breath smells acidic as it fans across the side of your face. 

“Help,” you croak out but you know it is of no use. There isn’t a soul here to hear you in this dark corner.

He squishes your face between one hand, thumb deep in the soft of your cheek. 

“Somebody should teach you a lesson, aye.”

“Yeah and somebody should teach you some fucking manners, you fucking cunt,” a voice rings. 

Benji.

Your face is freed from his grip and you rub where it hurts. 

“Piss off, lad. Ain’t none of your business,” the man tells him.

Something unfamiliar flashes across Benji’s face, a shadow of something sinister. 

Bloody Ben, you think. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he growls through clenched teeth.

He laughs at Benji, his arms crossed. “I’m not gonna fucking say it twice, boy. Piss–”

He can’t finish his sentence before Benji is on him, a disgusting sound of bones cracking as his fist connects with his nose. 

You yelp, a hand pressed to your mouth in an instant. This stranger is considerably larger than Benjicot, who himself could not be described as a slender man. 

The pair of them tumble to the ground and with every hit your sworn protector takes, you wince, as though you were feeling them yourself. 

Blood sprays across their faces, their hands, the hem of your shirt and you wish you could avert your gaze. 

Something glitters. 

“Knife,” you scream. “He has a knife.”

But Benji has already registered it. 

In a movement so smooth and quick that it was barely noticeable, the knife is stuck in the man’s hand.

He wails, guttural and gory and tries to crawl back. 

Your knight gets up from the ground, towers above him. “Get the fuck away.” Then, in an act so raw you are almost taken aback, he spits on him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the stranger staggers away, as fast as his delirious self can. 

There is a sickening swirl in your stomach and for a moment you think you will cry, but then good sense wins and you leap toward Benji.

Panic strains your voice. “Are you well?” You ask, gently inspecting his face. His nose is bleeding profusely. It stains your fingers, streams down to your wrist, thin red streaks across your skin and white linen sleeves. 

He nods. Distance clouds his eyes but then it is almost like he snaps back to this world. 

He flicks your hands away, and searches your face, the way you had done his. 

You grimace. He is clearly in much worse condition. 

“You fucking idiot. Don’t fucking ever frighten me like this again,” he whispers. 

“Do you know what could have happened? What you look like?”

He raises your hands to eye level. “Your hands are soft, you’ve not done work with them ever. Your hair shimmers, you walk like a fucking fairie and you reek of rose and lavender.”

With each word his voice raises to a whisper-shout. “Do you know how lucky you are that you weren’t recognised? How lucky you are that I got here in time?”

The tips of your ears run hot. “I just wanted-”

“What? To run away and die in a ditch?” 

You shake your head fervently. “No! I was going to return, I just forgot to rip up the letter! I didn’t mean to-”

He scoffs. “You’re lucky I was the one to find that thing. You’re the luckiest girl in the world, in fact.” 

Now there will likely be many moments in the future where you regret this moment but you cannot help yourself. “You call this situation lucky? I am lucky that I will be shipped off to be fucked by a disgusting little man for the rest of my life, be forced to bear his children, do as he pleases me to do, until the day I die? You think this is lucky? I would rather spend my time working every hour of every day of every week of every moon until my bones fail me.”

Benjicot comes even closer, the tips of your noses are almost touching. “Do not ever do something like this again. I will give you as much freedom as I can, but I suppose you did not plan to spend a night of freedom being defiled in some dark alley. Don’t you ever do this to me again.”

To him. 

“Understood?” 

He has engulfed your senses, speaking seems too hard a chore now. You nod. Is it normal for a knight to chastise his princess like this? 

“Good,” he whispers, but you don’t let him get away. 

You use the tissue tucked into your cleavage and dab at his nose. Crimson red stains the colour of house Aprikate. “I think I should set your nose.” Your voice is faint, like you’re worried you might scare him off, like some jittery woodland creature. 

“Hmm.” 

Your hand pulls away and your eyes lock. You swallow thickly. That new sensation haunts you again. 

Benji’s hand curls around the small of your back. 

This feels dangerous. You can’t bring yourself to end the moment. 

He does it for you.

“Let’s return to the castle.”

The air feels tense, new and vibrant the entire way home.

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@jhepolie

@knight-of-flowerss

@majoso12

@rebeccawinters

@poppyflower-22

@nixtape-foryou

@accidentpronedork

@xlittlefiend

@vqmpyrecult

[ltbarnes]

Back to December (1/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, ghost was a rugby player in uni lol, blood

A/N: I’m finally dipping my toe into another fandom 🫣 I’ve been obsessed with the cod men for months now so I suppose it’s time. this is the first part of two, maybe three. we’ll see where my imagination takes me!!

Part 2

Masterlist

So many years spent wondering what the hell happened that night, and there he is on the opposite side of the meeting room table gathering his papers into a neat pile. Simon always was organized, you remember.

He hasn't seen you yet. Or maybe he doesn't recognize you. You don't think you have changed that much, but you never know. More as a person than your appearance, you guess.

Maybe that's why you haven't fell down to the floor crying yet—you would have just a few years ago. Seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since you were 20 might do that to you.

But you just feel anger. Anger over the fact that Simon has the audacity to have grown into his looks that way, and that he's successful and has this great scruff on his face and that he just left and never said a word to you again. How dare he have a good life when he just abandoned you and your relationship that night all those years ago without giving you a reason for it.

Your new boss clears his throat, sitting down at one of the ridiculously expensive chairs right next to you. You didn't notice him come in, and you certainly haven't gotten used to his intimidating presence yet.

"Garcia, you have about...fifteen minutes to go through your presentation. I have another meeting with Hill soon." Mr. Price pauses to look down at his wrist watch for two seconds in the middle of his sentence, before nodding towards the beautiful redhead standing with a small remote in her hand.

For some reason this company seems to be where models who get tired of their careers come to work. You didn't exactly get that memo. It's only your second day here, and you feel intimidated by everyone. Maybe that's the way an assistant should feel.

"Y/l/n, you keeping notes for me?" Your head tilts up dangerously fast at the mention of your name, taking a few seconds too long to process his request, before nodding obediently.

"Yes, sir."

Your fingers click too loudly against the keys as you frantically try to draw up a document with the correct font and size. It's too quiet in here. You haven't done anything wrong, yet it feels like everyone is waiting for you to misstep. Your anxiety is a bitch.

"Riley. Riley, what the hell?" you hear someone whisper angrily. It's not until you hear a pen clatter to the floor that you dare to look up his way.

Honey brown eyes stare right into your goddamn soul. Your breath hitches, speeding up the pace of your anxiety-ridden heart even further. More than what's acceptable for sitting still in a work meeting. But your momentary weakness over catching his attention soon disappears, to be replaced by your anger again.

You look away with a clenched jaw, focusing on the keyboard right beneath you. Simon is still staring at you. You can feel it. Feels like it always used to do, but this time you don't want it. In your ideal world Simon Riley would not sit opposite you, would not stand up to join the beautiful, model redhead to hold a presentation where he keeps stumbling on his words all the time because of your presence. At least you think it's your presence, but you're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. For you it's bad.

But it does make you feel good that he keeps having these space outs—tripping over his words, forgetting them all together. It is not a good presentation on his part, and Ms. Garcia is getting increasingly more irritated at him for his lack of delivery. You hope she scolds him for it afterward. God knows you would like to throw every curse word you know at the man.

Should you be this angry after all these years? Should you have let it go a long time ago? Should you have stopped acting as if being with another man after him is betrayal? Probably. The last question is probably the answer to why you haven't really moved on from your hurt.

It just makes you so mad—for a year he was your entire world. Simon hugged you from behind each time he encountered you out in public and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms and woke you up with his fingers tracing patters on your hip. He fucked you until your bed broke and made love to you so gently you might as well have been made of glass to him. Two weeks from your anniversary he stopped talking to you. Not one thing of his was left in your dorm the next morning, and you didn't see him on campus even once during the term he had left of school. The few friends you had in common didn't talk to you anymore.

It broke your heart, to be abandoned like that. That night was already shit, and Simon just decided to make it ten times worse. You were in shock and all you wanted was his comfort. To find out he had left? You barely made it through that next semester.

For years you have pondered over what part of you was so unlovable that Simon couldn't even bear to say another word to you. Maybe his inability to function properly during this meeting wasn't due to shock, but instead disgust over having to be in the same room as you. Fuck, you are mad, and yet so scared that you have to meet him every single week from now on. You're not strong enough for that.

"That was...something. I expect you to be better prepared next time I see you, Riley," Mr. Price says, clicking his pen while pointing it towards Simon. "Don't know what the fuck that was," he mutters under his breath while rising from his chair.

You follow swiftly. The chair is too loud as it's pushed back. You cringe. Gathering your laptop and your papers is ungraciously done. Price still waits for you though, for some reason, but he sighs and puffs while doing so. Everyone else is quiet, besides the slap to his arm Simon receives from Ms. Garcia. They're probably dating. Two perfect, good looking people having perfect sex in their perfect apartments. You hate them both.

You try not to look at him as you walk out behind Mr. Price. But you still say a 'have a good day' that is too quiet to the room, answered with a few nods and some 'you too' back.

A small squeak of surprise escapes your lips when your boss comes to an abrupt halt in front of you. A millisecond is all it would take for you to have crushed into him, and that squeak leaves heat travelling to your face. He turns around, facing the room once again, with his usual glare.

"Don't bloody stare at my new assistant. I don't want another HR-situation with this one. Especially talking to you, Riley."

Price pins his glare on Simon, who gives him an equally harsh glare back. You are just about ready for the floor to break so you can fall through to the bottom level and run out of here. But you're frozen in your place, clutching your belongings to your chest tightly enough to make a computer-sized dent in your skin.

Without another word, your boss turns around and heads out of the room. You couldn't have moved any faster if you wanted to—already tight on his heels while your heart rate desperately tries to calm down. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. What the hell are you going to do? Ignore Simon and hope that you manage to avoid him for however long you'll work here? It feels kind of impossible, but the last thing you want is to talk to him. You couldn't.

You've just put down your things on your desk right outside of Price's office when he speaks again. His voice always manages to make you jump in your place, head flying up to meet his gaze.

"If Riley, or anyone else, gives you any trouble—you tell me," he says, unflinching and stoic.

You gulp, frozen in your position. "Oh—I, okay. Thank you." The words come out quieter than you wanted to.

"You seem like a good kid. Don't want these fucking fools to chase away 'nother one of my assistants."

The door to his office is closed the next second. You just stand there, dumbfounded and a little confused, but still flattered in some way. A good kid—you'll take that.

Popcorn crunches underneath your sneakers as you push yourself past the people going up and down the stairs, trickling out of the stadium with happy smiles on their faces and lively conversations exchanged now that the game is over. They won. The players are still out on the field, celebrating their victory with slaps to each other's backs, jumping up and down, impromptu attack hugs. You are giggling too, watching them.

Simon has torn his shirt off, sweaty, blond hair a mess as he shakes his head. Johnny just poured water all over him—the guy always gets so overexcited. And goddamn, your man looks good as he has that rare smile on his face.

The game was a really good one on his part. Everyone in the team calls him 'Ghost' because of how quickly and seamlessly he moves despite his size. And the big tattoo of a man wearing a skull mask on his arm. But once  he's out on the field, the players never expects his speed. At least one player during each game runs right into him, as if he was invisible. A ghost.

He hasn't noticed you yet, where you stand leaning against the railing. It's freezing out. The first really cold September day, and you didn't think to bring a proper jacket. But you don't really care, because seeing Simon and your friends this happy has plastered a permanent grin on your face.

"Riley, your girl!"

Someone shouts and points at you, alerting your boyfriend of your presence. His head whips in your direction, brown eyes pinpointing you in your place before a 6'2'' man starts barreling towards you. Simon throws the water bottle in his hand away carelessly as you giggle furiously over his excitement.

"Fuck, love," he says as he reaches his hands out, lifting you over the railing within a second. You yelp in surprise.

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

Simon just holds onto you tighter, pressing you close to him with your feet still in the air. How is he this strong? "Not a chance, Princess. We fucking won. I'm celebrating with my girl."

You chuckle, holding onto his shoulders while looking down at his sweaty face. "I know. I'm so proud of you."

A shy grin grows on his face, slowly setting you down onto the fake grass. "Really?"

"Really. It's the best you've ever played. Wanted to shout to everyone that it was my boyfriend doing all the best throws out there," you tell him, now looking up at him instead. God, he's tall.

Simon's mouth comes crashing down onto yours, giving you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh.

"I lov—I loved having you here." Simon pauses in the middle of the sentence, as if he was supposed to say something else. "You're my fucking lucky charm, you know that?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have lost quite a few games with me here as well," you tell him, ruffling his messy hair with your hand.

"Don't matter. I feel lucky anyway." A boyish grin adorns his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your head. "Now, tell me why in the hell my little lady is out here freezing her arse off 'cause she didn't bring a jacket? Like I told her to do?"

You groan, giving him a glare. "Stop. I should have listened to you, you were right, and all that. I know."

"Well, better for me, 'cause I get to rub my sweaty arms all over you now to warm you up."

"Go shower, you idiot." You push at his chest gently, rolling your eyes. He pretends to stumble backwards, holding his hands up.

"I will. Just wait a few seconds here, will you?"

Simon keeps walking backwards, waiting for your nod of confirmation, before breaking out into a jog towards the locker rooms.

You embrace your torso with your arms, rubbing up and down with your hands to warm your skin. There's so many players left on the field, still messing with each other like rugby teams usually do. Some you recognize—like Johnny and Gaz. They're your friends too. Others you have seen in passing at parties, in class. Some you only know because Simon complains about them to you. The fly-half never was his favorite. Graves, something? They're constantly at each other's throats.

Simon comes running out onto the field once more, this time with his jacket in hand. You sigh, scratching the skin above your eyebrow with a small smile.

"Si—you didn't have to. I'm fine," you say as soon as he's within earshot.

"Shut up. I'm being a bloody gentleman, just like my mum taught me."

The jacket is laid gently around your shoulders. You tug it tighter around you, because despite your words it is cold. And you love his jacket.

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

You smile up at him, scrunching your nose. You love this fool. You love Simon Riley, have done so for many, many months. Haven't told him yet though. But it can wait—you have all the time in the world.

Simon is avoiding you. A week of not seeing him even once, despite the fact that you work on the same floor. You haven't attended any more meetings since your second day, but you still would have expected to run into him in the break room, or in the hallway. Hell, you've even delivered paper copies to his office and still haven't seen him.

You don't know what you feel about that. You are mad at him and you definitely don't want to be forced into an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend, but still not knowing why he left has chipped away at every ounce of confidence you had in yourself. Even now at your grown age. It's been several years since. It's pathetic. Maybe Simon realized that on a Friday night in December during his senior year of college—you are pathetic.

God, why are you still that 20-year old girl? Why are you sitting at your desk, 3:30 PM on a Wednesday, obsessing over every flaw you can come up with all because of a stupid man?

The anger you held towards him last Tuesday has morphed into deep self-hate. You begin to understand his perspective. He doesn't want to interact with the silly little girl he broke up with ages ago in her silly little assistant job. Simon is a senior executive in this company, for god's sake. He doesn't even have to send a second glance your way.

"Y/l/n! Coffee!" your boss yells from within his office. But the yelling and cold tone still doesn't offend you like it would any other person—it's just the way he is. Price has actually been pretty nice to you. You like him as your boss, despite his less than chipper attitude.

"Yes, sir," you shout back, rising from your seat.

You smooth down your dress, fiddle with your hair in the reflection of your laptop, before taking a deep breath. It's just a short trip to the break room. No big deal. Nobody actually cares that you are the new girl.

It's practically empty as you arrive, besides a man reading his newspaper in the corner while seemingly on an important call. Seems a little arrogant, but you know he's high up in the company. At least you think he is. Price doesn't like him. He told you so the first day.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs as you walk to the expensive, Italian coffee machine. You press the double espresso button. No sugar, no milk. Just straight, black coffee for your boss. Kind of reflects his personality. It buzzes loudly as coffee drips into the cup, you standing there waiting patiently. It has started raining outside. You'll probably be soaking wet tonight once you come back to your apartment.

Someone comes standing beside you, taking a mug off the highest shelf. You catch a glimpse of his expensive suit before glancing upwards. Your lips part, almost just as shocked as you were last Tuesday. You can't catch a fucking break, can you?

"Johnny?"

The now bearded man, with a full head of hair as well, which he definitely didn't have when you last saw him, turns around towards you with a stoic expression. It doesn't change once he gets a good look at who said his name.

"You work here too?" you ask before gulping.

"Y/n," he says, a frown growing in between his eyebrows. "I work here, yes." The Scottish accent that you used to like listening to is now impossibly deeper.

"Uh, I—how you doing? It's been...a while." You glance away, cowering under his gaze. Soap always used to be so kind to you, treated you as if you were one of the boys. Insisted you call him Soap, something only his friends were allowed to call him. Now there is a hidden undertone of distaste in the way he looks at you. "See you've gotten rid of the Mohawk."

"I'm alright. Good to see ya', Y/n, but I gotta go back," he tells you. For some reason you feel like he's actually not all that happy to see you.

"Oh. Okay." The disappointment in your voice is clear. "We'll probably see each other again soon, I guess."

Johnny has already started walking away when the words leave your mouth. You hear him mumble a halfhearted 'Take care, lassie" before leaving you there dumbfounded and upright hurt with your boss's coffee cup. What was that?

You always knew Johnny was as loyal of a friend you could be, but...you didn't know he hated you that much. Especially when you didn't actually do anything against him. Not that you did anything against Simon either. That you know of. But, you know.

The short interaction leaves you jarred for the rest of your work day. You still get things done, but the look on Johnny's face is in the back of your mind the entire time. What did you do that was so bad that John goddamn MacTavish hates you for it?

It wasn't enough to work with the man who broke your heart, but your ex-friend as well. His best friend. You will never be welcomed here if half of the company leaders consist of people who have a grudge against you spanning years.

When the clock strikes 6, Price sends you home. He will probably stay for another few hours, you think, because there has been empty takeout containers in his office the morning after every day this week. You tell him to have a good night, he answers with a grunt, and then you and your bag take off through the hallways.

Your heels click against the floor as you walk through the mostly empty office space. Some rooms still have their lights on, casting shadows over the mahogany desks and the important people sitting behind them.

You halt your steps as you hear two voices wrapped into a conversation with each other. Someone must have left their door open. You don't want to eavesdrop, but it gets hard to resist when you recognize Johnny's voice from earlier.

"You can't avoid her forever," he says.

"Well, don't you think I fucking know that?"

You freeze as you instantly recognize the deep, rumbling timber of Simon's voice answering Soap. Fucking hell—they're talking about you. You can't not eavesdrop now.

"It's just—it's fucking hard, you know? She just walks in here all..."

"Met her in the break room earlier. Making coffee for Price."

"Yeah? She said somethin'?" Simon's voice sounds curious, eager almost.

"Asked how I was doing, the usual. Didn't know I worked here, it seemed like." A sigh sounds from the room, and you press yourself even closer to the wall. Please, for the love of god, don't let anyone walk by. "I couldn't just act like normal. I can't be fuckin'...nice to someone like that. When I know your past."

"What—you were fucking rude, or what? Just ignored her?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Left pretty quick, though. I just don't have any respect for things like that. You know that."

"Yeah." Simon lets out a bitter chuckle. If you could see him, he'd probably be shaking his head now. "I'm still fucking angry, you know? Can barely stand to be in the same room."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to yourself. You can't listen to the two of them talk about how much they hate you. How they don't have respect for 'things' like you. It's nauseating. Your limbs shake with poorly contained anger, but still the urge to cry is even stronger.

But there's no other way out than past his office. So you brave it—practically sprint by with your hand covering the side of your face in hope that they won't see who it is. You don't think they do. The blinds were down.

A single, pathetic tear slips down your face as soon as you exit the building. Cars fly past you, lights blaring everywhere, noise unending. You just want to go home. But you know the overthinking won't stop there.

As the obnoxiously loud alarm disturbs your sleep that finally came about three hours before, you groan into your pillow and wish for it to be anything else but Thursday. You want the weekend. You want to sleep in and wallow in the fact that you probably won't have this job for very long after what you heard Simon and Johnny say about you yesterday.

You don't even bother putting on heels this morning. An old pair of ballerina shoes and a thick, fuzzy sweater over your dress is what you drag yourself to the office in. It's cold and you're exhausted and sad. You can't stand people not liking you—it takes over every part of your being. And when it's Simon...

There's a meeting going on. Price gave you a list of everyone's coffee orders and made you run over to the shop across the street. You see Simon's name taunting you at the top of the list. A cortado, extra sugar. Fuck, he's still the same.

It takes twenty minutes of queuing before you manage to get to the counter. Another ten to have everyone's order ready. The bag is ridiculously heavy as you carry it out of the coffee shop. The meeting will probably be over by the time you arrive, and then Price will curse you out and you will cry, because today you cannot handle even the smallest criticism.

You're a little sweaty by the time you reach the fourteenth floor of the building, which is fine, but the panting doesn't exactly add to your charisma that somehow seems to repent your coworkers from your person. For a minute you stand outside the meeting room, gathering yourself enough to be somewhere near presentable. Not entirely, but as close as you will get.

The door is shouldered open with a little force. More than you thought it would take. Nobody really gives a thought to your presence—they continue the meeting as if you weren't there at all, and you like it that way. You try to match each coffee to the right person on the list. But there's thirteen of them, and you have yet to learn everyone's name.

You feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time you spend in that room. He's anything but subtle, staring right at you without shame. He doesn't even answer as someone calls him by name. And it's pure spite leaving him for last. His order is the only one you know by heart, but keeping him waiting for a few extra minutes is deserved, you think. Maybe it just gives him more fuel to hate you, but if he's going to hate you, you might as well give it right back.

His ring-clad fingers clasp around the paper mug, slowly bringing it up to his lips as if taunting you with the existence of them. God, they are so full and pink and—no. Don't even go down that route. It'll all make it so much harder to live like this if you keep thinking about how fucking attractive Simon has become with his still blond hair slightly unkept from running his hand through it during the day and how his shirt strains against his muscles and the fact that he is still so, so tall.

"This is cold."

The room falls silent, at least you think it does, as Simon's harsh voice echoes throughout the confines of the four walls. The coffee belonging to the person sitting beside him is steaming. You know he's lying. He sets down the mug on the table, glaring up at you with such distaste in his eyes. You never thought that look would be reserved for you.

"Can't even get a bloody coffee order right, can you?" Simon's chuckle is deprecating, shaking his head to himself as if his irritation almost amuses him.

But you just flinch. He doesn't see it, but you think the rest of the room does. His tone fucking hurts. And that he would publicly humiliate you like this?

"Oh, uh..." You want so badly to have a good comeback, something that will make him shrink in his chair, but all you can get out is a stupid 'oh'. Standing there all small and speechless makes you feel dumb. "I'll get a new one."

Your response seems to catch his attention. His gaze flickers up, back to you, and the cruelty falters for a few seconds to be replaced by something likened to...regret? Probably not.

"Riley can drink his cold goddamn coffee. He'll survive," Price chimes in, waving with his pen as a signal for whoever was speaking before to continue.

You nod, clenching your jaw to stop the trembling, before escaping out of the room as quickly as possible without it seeming suspicious.

A shaky, deep breath is inhaled and exhaled as soon as you get out. It was already a bad day, yes, but nearly crying because Simon told you his coffee was cold? That's just childish. You need to pull yourself together if you're going to keep this job. Price clearly doesn't like weakness.

The rest of the day is calm. Mostly you're reviewing Price's schedule, emailing people back and forth about changing meetings and setting them up. He even gives you an extra break, which is so well needed and probably out of pity, but you'll take it.

You realize that you are so fucking petty when your final task of the day, once again, is to deliver some kind of contract to Simon's office. You know he's out on a meeting with a client—you heard him walking past earlier, talking to that client on the phone. You gather your belongings, say goodbye to Price, before heading towards Simon's on your way down.

Stepping inside feels like walking right into his arms. His cologne hangs heavy in the air. Fuck him for still using the same scent.

The entirety of his office is neatly organized, everything in its place. So you move things. A sharpener gets to change its designated spot from desk to shelf. Files labeled under 'F' gets shoved in between 'S' and 'T'. You even go as far as taking out some of the files from one folder, placing it in another. The printer gets unplugged.

Doing something to his old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring that stands proudly on display in his bookcase crosses your mind, but you do want to stay alive long enough to see the end of the week, at least. You remember one time when he slept with it as if it was a stuffed animal. You're being petty, not suicidal.

Your final masterpiece in your rampage is the unscrewing of a wheel on his desk chair. Just the thought of Simon pushing his chair back only for it to suddenly tilt makes you giggle. God, you really are a child.

Any sane person wouldn't even notice half the things you've done in here. But Simon is not sane. This can throw off his entire day, week even. You know from firsthand experience.

Yeah, Simon goddamn Riley broke your fucking heart and now has the audacity to punish you for it. You won't take that.

Simon has been in such a bad mood the entire day. You heard him cursing all the way from his office. Some poor intern got yelled at in the hallway (you really are sorry for that), and you overheard a few of your colleagues mention that he didn't speak to anyone during the entire morning meeting. Price apparently cursed him out for it in front of everyone. That's a little funny, at least.

On one hand you feel proud of your ability to still piss him off without him knowing. On the other hand, you're not too happy yourself. Your situation hasn't exactly changed—half the office still hasn't talked to you, and the ones that do keep strictly work related conversations. You're lonely.

Despite it being Friday, you get off when the sun has already set. It's pouring rain outside and you don't have an umbrella. You really don't have the energy to deal with that as you gaze warily out of the window from your desk. You could take the subway instead of walk all the way home, but you would still get soaking wet during the trek to the station.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price. Have a good weekend," you say, popping your head into his office with a sweet smile on your lips.

"Call me John," he answers without even looking up from whatever report he's reviewing. Still that monotone voice as if he's always tired of hearing people talk.

"Oh. Uh—okay, John," you stutter out. What? He never lets anyone call him by first name.

"Get home safe," Price tells you. Has he grown soft? What's happening? "Have a fuck load of reports needing organization on Monday." There it is.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head lightly, before mumbling another 'bye' to your boss. He lifts his head in a subtle nod as answer. Actually, you might have a chance to stay here if he likes you. He is the CEO after all.

The hallways are dark except the few offices still lit up like every night. These people barely have a life outside of work, it seems like. It's kind of sad. Then again, you don't either, if what counts as a life is having friends and significant others and people who care about you. But at least you have time for doughing in your couch and taking a walk around the neighborhood.

But your daydreaming and overthinking of course leads you into trouble. Rounding the corner forces you right into another person, making you stumble backwards a few steps before a clammy hand grabs your arm to stop you from falling.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, looking up at the man standing in front of you. It's that executive-something Price doesn't like. Shepherd? An American.

"Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, darling," he says, without backing away from you. He keeps that close distance, letting you feel his dank breath properly.

You gulp, before attempting to release your arm from his grip. He doesn't budge. Your heart rate speeds up instantly.

"Haven't talked to you properly before, sweetheart. Just seen you strutting 'round these hallways in your dresses." He looks down at your wide eyes, before they slowly rake over the rest of your body. Your chest starts to heave up and down as if you've just come back from a run. It's clear he wants something more than just a simple conversation with the new assistant.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I have to go. Train," you stutter out, attempting to tear yourself away from his harsh grip around your arm. You can't.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I just wanna have a talk, that's all," he tells you, his warm breaths hitting your face.

"Please, sir, I really have to go. We can talk on Monday."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering down to your chest again as if you can't see it clearly, before tapping your cheek condescendingly with the palm of his hand.

"Alright, sweetheart. Come into my office on Monday. Appreciate it if you'd wear one of those pretty dresses. Makes my day much better, having somethin' sweet to look at."

A wet kiss is pressed to the back of your hand—something that he might think is gentlemanly, but sends shivers down your entire spine out of disgust. You're frozen still as he squeezes your hip before he leaves, leaving you to hear his dress shoes clink against the floor.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets for you to breathe. Panic grows in your chest, tears already threatening to fall as you finally get yourself to move, rushing towards the elevator and pressing the button too many times.

He was so close. And the way his grip tightened as you tried to step away, the squeeze of your hip. It's too much like last time. Too much like that fucking December night all those years ago.

Clear pictures of Philip and his friends flashes past the forefront of your mind as you rush from the elevator, already heaving from your tears. It's empty, thank god, since the guards are posted outside of the main entrance. Philip morphs into the man from just a minute ago. Pushing you against the wall at that party, grinning right in your face as you tell them to stop.

The backdoor leading into the alleyway beside the building is where your feet leads you towards without consulting you. It's better, maybe. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

But those goddamn revolving doors acting as the main entrance starts to move, you hear that, and soon enough someone steps inside with haste in their walk.

"Y/l/n!" someone shouts angrily. You know exactly who it is. "Why the fuck did you move all my stuff? I swear to god—"

Your back is facing away from him, but maybe he still sees the way your shoulders shake from behind. Maybe that's why he falters in his steps. Maybe that's why he decides to cut the first real sentences he's said to you directly since you started working here short.

The last crumb of composure turns to dust, and your hand flies up to your mouth to muffle the first real sob from your lips. You escape through the door, out into the cold, rainy alleyway as your cries turn too forceful to stop.

It's wet and dirty and crawling with grovel as your knees hit the ground harshly. You manage to turn yourself around to lean your back against the cold brick wall instead. It'll all bring you grief later, but right now your legs can't carry your weight.

With a bang, the door flies wide open once more. Long legs bend down, big hands on your arms.

"Y/n. Y/n, c'mon. Why are you crying?"

Simon's voice is drowning in urgency, his shakes of your shoulders almost forceful. But you can't stop crying. And you're still so fucking angry with him.

"Don't touch me," you sob, pushing his hands away from you. The rain grows heavier the same second, soaking the entirety of you as you sit there on the dirty ground.

"Alright, alright. I won't," he breathes out, holding his hands up beside him. Those big, veiny fucking hands that you have missed every day since he last put them on you. "But you gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" you almost yell, tilting your head up, away from the palms of your hands previously hiding your face. You get raindrops right in your eyes. "You hate me, don't you? Can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"Y/n," he growls, as if he's scolding you with the simple mention of your name. "You know bloody fucking well I don't hate you. Now tell me what the hell's making you sob like this. You're sitting on the ground, for fuck's sake."

You dry away your tears, despite it being so futile in this rain, while letting out a bitter chuckle. "All due respect, you're the last person I wanna talk to."

Simon lets out a shaky breath, one filled with frustration. "So fucking stubborn..."

He shakes his head. "Just—just let me drive you home, at least, okay? The trains from this station are cancelled. Blowing up to a storm."

The words you were about to force out through your tears disappear completely. Instead you just stare at the man now looking down at you with something likened to concern. Still has that frown in between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to get in a car with you, Riley," you mumble out. If you had your way it would sound angrier, more assertive, but your voice fails you.

"Riley, huh? That's where it's at?" Simon scoffs, as if he didn't call you by your last name a few minutes earlier. "Just get up, c'mon."

"No." You shake your head, looking down in your lap. In reality you're not just apprehensive because of your anger towards him—he's a man at the end of the day, and you are his ex-girlfriend who he dislikes very strongly.

"Are you—for god's sake." He shakes his head again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n. I would never harm you. Not any woman," he tells you. How can he still read you this well?

You don't answer. Just take your wet sleeve to dry away even more tears. How to stop crying in front of your ex seems to be an art you haven't mastered yet.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You let me get you a taxi home, after you get out of this fucking rain and step inside. That alright with you?"

You nod with a sniffle, reaching for your bag beside you.

"C'mon."

Simon nods towards the door, reaching his hand out. You take it, because there's no chance you would manage to get up all by yourself. But that's the only reason.

He holds the door open for you, letting you slip inside again. Exactly how much the rain soaked you hits you as you step inside, instantly freezing cold and uncomfortable. And goddamn your right knee hurts. Falling down to the ground did come with consequences, it seems.

"Fucking hell," Simon mutters under his breath as soon as he gets inside, dripping water down onto the shiny floor. His suit is entirely soaked too.

You see a glance of yourself in a mirror as you take off your heels. There's mascara underneath your eyes. You try to remove it furiously with your fingers.

"Don't have to do that. Nothing that I haven't seen before," Simon speaks up from behind you, looking at you as well through the mirror.

You glance up at him, just for half a second, before lowering your arms slowly. And then you rummage through your bag with trembling hands, finding a napkin you kept from a restaurant. You dry away the mascara with that instead.

Simon looks at you, really looks at you, as you stand there dripping water onto the floor and makeup ruined and your clothes dirty. You feel so vulnerable underneath his gaze. What is he trying to find?

"Bloody hell, Y/n. You're bleeding for fuck's sake. That's a fucking gash."

He points at your knee. You look down, seeing the outpouring of blood running down your leg from the open wound right below your knee. It does look very, very bad. Like, you're slowly becoming nauseous by looking at it. How didn't you notice it earlier?

"Oh."

"I'm driving you wether you like it or not." Simon stalks up to you, grabbing a hold of your arm to put it around his shoulder. His arm sneaks its way around your waist. Fuck.

"Do I get a say in this?" you ask. You know what the answer is, but you also don't understand. What is this? Why is he doing this for you? A few days ago he was talking shit about you with Soap and humiliated you purposely in front of your co-workers. Now he's getting worried about you crying and driving you home from work?

"No."

Part 2

[showf4lls]

ʚ ― lipstick ; various

info! headcanons, fluff / gender neutral reader

cw! no CWs

includes! chuckle sammy boys

request! lipstick trend

notes! i’m alive! sorry for taking so long y’all; life really hit the fan these past few months. i genuinely really do appreciate everyone’s patience through all of this. i can’t guarantee that i’ll be writing as regularly as i’d like to be since i’m supposed to be graduating at the end of this school year, but i’ll write when i can! glad to be back for now y’all. thanks for having me :]

TED

⎼ it wouldn’t take a lot to convince him. once you clued him in, he would be all about it, little to no convincing required

⎼ would mostly do it for the chance to take cute polaroids if i’m being honest

⎼ ted is in the business of doing whatever it takes to make you happy, little to no questions asked

⎼ he really does love the attention though, you sitting in his lap and peppering kisses all over his face, only stopping to reapply your lipstick. he likes the closeness, the fact that you’re looking only at him, the opportunity to hold you by the waist while he makes heart eyes at you

⎼ you have to do it three separate times at least because at the end of each go he just says, “ya know, i think we should do it again. no yeah, we can definitely do it again. these are all smudged... yeah i think we have to do it again, honey. sorry, i don’t make the rules.” and you cave every time

⎼ doesn’t think about the consequences until it’s actually time to take off all of the lipstick marks

CHARLIE

⎼ would be a little reluctant, if i’m being honest. i would say that he’s the most logical out of all the chuckle sammy boys, so he would immediately realize the consequences of covering his face in lipstick marks

⎼ he would definitely cave after enough asking, though. say “please” all nice and he’s a goner. another man that would do absolutely anything if it meant making you happy

⎼ jokingly agrees under the condition that you let him choose the color(s)

⎼ i have a feeling that the texture would kind of bother him, but he might make himself soldier through it for your sake

⎼ keeps his nose scrunched up the whole time, eyes closed since he can’t see anything without his glasses on anyways

⎼ definitely takes advantage of the opportunity to get some cute pictures with you

⎼ more goofy than lovestruck throughout the whole thing

⎼ as soon as you say that you’re good and finished, he begs you to take off the makeup as quickly as you possibly can

SCHLATT

⎼ really resistant to the idea. it’s an absolute no from him, so if it’s something you really want to do you’re gonna have to be sneaky about it

⎼ you’d have to do it (or at least start it) while he’s busy. maybe he’s cooking, or driving you home, or on a call with some friends and you randomly start kissing his face

⎼ he’s only half paying attention to you, so he doesn’t notice the red kiss marks that he’s slowly accumulating on his face

⎼ like i said though, you’d have to be sneaky about it, so it would probably be best to spread the process out over a couple hours, giving him kiss marks in intervals. he would probably just assume you’re being more affectionate than usual today and not that you’re actively scheming for some tiktok clicks

⎼ you would also strategically have to keep him from touching his face so that he didn’t smudge all of your hard work away

⎼ once he figures out what you’re doing, you better get your video quick because not only is he scrubbing that shit the fuck off his face, but he will find an equally embarrassing way to reign his vengeance upon you

[amhrosina]

Feelings are Fatal (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: omg whatttttt amhrosina writing a fic about someone not in a marvel show/movie???? whatttt???? the people who know me in person (& one of my fav mutuals) knew this was coming. what can I say? it’s pedro fucking pascal and i've been in love with him since GOT lol enjoy this angst fest!  

request: rosi i noticed that you added pedro pascal to your writing list so im requesting a fic with javi comforting dea reader after a family member/friend dies. soft javi, maybe reader is drinking and theres an established but secret relationship. feel free not to write it if you dont like it but i saw your authors note about pedro and figured i would ask

Summary: Javi comforts reader after she gets terrible news and is forced to confront the depth of his feelings for her. Steve confronts Javi about his secret relationship.

(Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grief, minor injuries, alcohol, Javi is a grump but is a soft!boy w reader, cursing, lots of cigarettes lol, feelings are hard for javi)

The second you heard the receiver click on the other end of the line, the bulky phone slipped from your hand and tumbled to the floor. The booming crack of the plastic smacking the tile, followed by the trinkle of the pieces cascading across the floor, were the only sounds you could hear in the bullpen. You tried to find something to focus on, eyes glazing over as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You scanned the area around you, skipping over Murphy’s concerned gaze and landing on Javi’s empty chair.  

Mierda. (Shit.) He was still chasing a lead in Cali, and he wasn’t supposed to be home until early tomorrow morning. It’s not like he would be able to do anything for you right now anyways, considering you were surrounded by people who would out your relationship in half a second if it meant their career might be boosted because of it, but his reassuring presence was something you sorely needed at the moment.  

Your chest tightened as you processed what your dad had just murmured through the phone. You had been sitting when you answered the phone, but at some point, you must’ve stood, because you were currently white knuckling the back of your chair.  

Murphy rolled his chair into your eyeline, waving his hands in the air. Everything around you sounded muffled, almost like you were under water, and you couldn’t focus on anything for longer than a few seconds. You ran through the tricks you knew off the top of your head to stave off a panic attack. You tried to take a deep breath, you counted the tiles on the floor, hell, you even tried to find five things you could see, but the rapidly rising pace of your heartbeat, and the shallow breaths you could barely manage told you your panic attack was in full swing already. 

A gentle presence on your wrist sent a shock through you so prevalent that you snapped to attention and the world suddenly got very loud. Murphy was standing in front of you with wide eyes, murmuring your name, while the lucky few agents that happened to be in the bullpen when your phone rang stood a few feet back, observing you with keen interest. You weren’t stupid enough to believe they cared about your wellbeing. Nosy fuckers.  

Your hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly. The indent of your nails pressing into your palm was a steady ache, one that you absolutely needed if you were going to walk out of the office without incident. And you knew that was where you needed to go. Away from here, away from the DEA’s bullshit bureaucracy, away from Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. You stumbled away from Murphy, turning on your heels when you reached the lip of the bottom stair. You would explain everything to everyone later, when you could think again. ‘If you still have a job later, pendeja (asshole/idiot),’ you thought miserably. 

You barely remember jumping into your front seat, nor starting the car, nor pulling out of the police headquarters lot. You had a vague awareness that you arrived home when you unlocked your front door, but you were stuck in autopilot, and couldn’t bear to think about why you were stuck in autopilot.  

You eyed the bottle of liquor Javi had left in your kitchen the last time he was here and sighed. Yes, you thought, that’s perfect. 

- 

Javi was driving like a maniac, and he didn’t give two shits about it. When Steve had called earlier, he hadn’t been able to give any details about their partner’s bizarre behavior, other than her hasty departure from DEA headquarters after a strange phone call. Steve was puzzled, but otherwise not too concerned about her. Javi, on the other hand, had carefully untangled himself from his business in Cali and hopped on the next available and inconspicuous flight home he could manage.  

He could feel in his gut that something was wrong, and he couldn’t leave his girl hanging, job or no job. He wasn’t any closer to capturing Escobar anyways and had already determined that his trip to Cali was a colossal waste of time and resources before Steve had called him.  

He’d been pulled away from DEA headquarters for long enough, and this was the perfect excuse for him to high tail it out of Cali and come home. He was tired, and he missed his conejita (bunny – term of endearment), and even though he’d never admit it, he missed Murphy’s early morning grumblings too.  

He peeled into the nearest parking spot he could find to the apartment building and hurdled himself out of the driver’s seat. When he entered the building, he eyed the door at the top of the stairs. Dark – either Murphy was still at the office, asleep, or sitting in his apartment in complete darkness. His apartment was also dark, but a soft glow emitted from under his conejita’s door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  

He considered using the key she had given him for emergencies. Did this count as an emergency? He sure thought so, but he didn’t want to startle her, so he knocked on the door with anxious trepidation. He waited, straining to listen through the door for any sign of life inside the apartment. There was nothing, and then there was the loud crash of something glass hitting the floor, and Javi was through the door before she could let out a yelp.  

She was on her hands and knees, hunched on the floor by her couch. Broken glass was all over the floor around her, though Javi couldn’t tell what she’d broken. He was more concerned for her palms and kneecaps, all of which were being pushed into the broken glass shards with little resistance on her end. He rushed to her side, lifting her off of the glass and into his arms.  

“Javi?” She slurred, raising her chin in a defiant gesture.  

“Cariño (honey), what happened?” He noted the way she slurred her words and the fact that her cheeks were tinted pink. “Have you been drinking?”  

“Have you been drinking, Agent Grumpy?” She pouted, trying to mimic the way Javi’s lips would poke out when he was upset about something.  

Clearly, she’d been drinking, but Javi couldn’t figure out what might’ve spurred this behavior. Out of him, Murphy, and her, she was the most levelheaded of the trio, and the least likely to drown her sorrows in a bottle of liquor. Dread coiled in his gut. Something awful must’ve gone down while he was gone, and he couldn’t help but feel like the idiot that couldn’t keep up. 

“Baby,” he murmured, carefully navigating through the millions of tiny glass shards all over her living room floor, “¿Que paso (what happened)?”  

“I dropped the bottle.” She breathed, clutching onto his shirt with her bloody hands. He didn’t care. He’d use a hundred of his shirts to stop her bleeding. He carefully set her down in a kitchen chair, untangling his limbs from hers. She seemed more alert now, more awake than when he’d busted through the door moments before. The cuts on her hands and knees were probably to blame for that, but Javi couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet. First, he had to find a first aid kit.  

Every agent was trained in basic first aid, and if they felt like being kiss-asses, they could take classes to get certified in trauma response. Javi hadn’t felt like being a kiss-ass, but he knew he way around a first aid kit. As he poked around her kitchen and bathroom cabinets, he stuck his head in the hallway every few seconds, checking on her. She was waiting patiently at the kitchen table where he’d left her, but she’d adopted a look that could only be described as “far away”, and his concern was growing by the minute.  

Javi couldn’t figure it out. When they’d talked on the phone this morning, she was fine, chipper even. She was excited that he’d be home soon, and he had promised that he’d make up for the nights they’d lost while he was working in Cali. When her voice had dropped to a whisper, and she revealed that Murphy had just walked into the bullpen thirty minutes early, his breath had hitched in his throat as he almost let the words “I love you” slip from between his lips.  

Javi wasn’t inexperienced with women, but he was sure that she was the only woman in the world that could get him that tongue tied. When the receiver clicked, indicating that she'd hung up, Javi had spent entirely too long staring at the phone in his hands, listening to the dial tone drone on and on as he searched his brain for wherever the hell that had come from.  

But that couldn’t be what was bothering her. Steve had mentioned a phone call, but she’d hung up the phone with him before 8am, and she didn’t start acting weird until almost ten hours later. There had to be someone, something bothering her, and Javi’s chest ached with rage about it. The only person allowed to bother her was him, and he took that job very seriously. 

“Bebé (Baby),” he sighed, propping the medical kit open on the kitchen table, “Will you tell me what’s going on?” 

She swallowed thickly, sighing as he pulled up a chair in front of her. He gently lifted her hands to the light so he could see the cuts. They were shallow, but hands always bled a lot, so both of her palms were stained a deep crimson. She watched him as he began to remove pieces of glass from the cuts, and he waited patiently for her to explain herself. He’d wait for as long as she needed him to. 

- 

The stinging sensation hadn’t left your trembling hands, but you wanted to be tough in front of Javi, so you watched quietly as he wrapped your hands in thick gauze. He’d lit a cigarette two minutes ago, puffing smoke in the air at regular intervals as he worked. When he finally moved on to your knees, which had stopped bleeding ten minutes ago, you tried to figure out exactly what to say to him.  

It wasn’t every day that your significant other’s mom suddenly and inexplicably dies during an evening nap, leaving everyone, especially your significant other, baffled and choked by her loss. His mom had quietly passed away earlier the year before, and he was only gone for two days before returning to Colombia. He hadn’t broached the topic since then, and you weren’t as comfortable with him then as you were now. You could confidently say that you had no idea how this was going to go. 

You took a breath, and before you could talk yourself out of it, mumbled the same words your dad had spoken hours before, causing your world to crumble around you. 

“Mi mamá está muerta. (My mom is dead.)” 

Javi sucked in a breath, lifting his gaze towards yours with a pitiful expression. Tears welled in your eyes, and for the first time since you’d heard the horrible news, you allowed yourself to cry. Javi dropped the gauze on the table and wrapped his muscular arms around your neck, pulling you into his chest.  

“Oh, Cariño,” he cooed, kissing your hair as you sobbed into his shirt, “Lo siento, bebé. (I’m sorry, baby.)” 

His shirt was sure to be irreparably stained now that your blood and tears were soaked into it, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stroked your back, kissed your head, and held you close while you cried and cried into his chest. He’d never seen you so vulnerable before, and a rush of fear shot through you at the thought of him scaring away because of that, but every time you tried to push away from him, he’d tighten his hold on you and urge you to let it out. 

When you finally got a handle on your sobs, Javi pulled back, searching your expression for any further breakage. He’d weather it, this awful storm, for as long as you needed him to. You knew that, and even still, when he began to put the pieces of you back together again, your heart melted at the thought of him.  

Javier Peña was not the guy that women came crying to in the middle of the night. He was the guy you picked up for the one-night stand, the one you’d talk about for years afterwards, the one you’d think about as ‘the one that got away’ until you were too old to remember his name and where he came from. That was Javier Peña, and yet, he was in your kitchen, cleaning up your wounds, healing the part of you that was inexplicably broken. If only Murphy could see you guys now. 

“Cuando es el funeral? (When is the funeral?)” He asked, blotting at the scabs on your knees.  

“Next weekend.” You murmured, wincing as he taped gauze over a particularly deep cut. 

“When mi mamá died,” he started, and you stopped breathing, unwilling to be the one to fuck this conversation up before it even started, “I didn’t let myself mourn the way I should have. I tried to sweep it under the rug, ‘ya know?” 

You nodded, remembering the weeks after his return from Texas. He had thrown himself into his work, which made yours and Murphy’s lives a little easier for a while, though neither of you preferred it that way.  

“Let yourself mourn, Cariño. It’s my biggest regret.” 

“Okay.” You nodded, though you weren’t sure exactly what he meant by that. You spoke before you could stop yourself. “You can still mourn her. There’s not a time limit on grief.”  

It sort of felt like the air was sucked out of the room. You’d never said something so bold to Javi, especially not about his personal life. You were five seconds away from blaming your brashness on the alcohol you’d consumed, even though you’d sobered up fairly quickly once he’d arrived, when he nodded. 

“That’s true, Cariño.” 

You blinked. You must really look like shit if Javi wasn’t actively building walls around himself. Sure, he’d opened up a little throughout the relationship, but he was still working on being vulnerable with you, and he had a lot of work left to do. You knew he was plagued by nightmares – you were too, and who, working this job, wouldn’t be? – but he wouldn’t talk about them with anyone. Instead, he’d pull you closer, kiss you harder, and make you forget why he’d woken in the first place. It was a coping mechanism that both of you recognized as ‘not actually coping’ but neither of you had the resources or the energy to work through that trauma. At least, not yet. 

He lit another cigarette, and you watched him breathe in the smoke deeply. He lifted it toward you, and you eagerly parted your lips, taking a much needed drag. Before Colombia, before Javi, you hadn’t touched a cigarette in your life. After being assigned to team Murphy-Peña, you felt like you had a perpetual cloud of smoke hovering over you at all times.  

Javi brushed his hands together and threw the remaining unused gauze back in the first aid kit. He gently pulled you from your seat, and the slight movement sent a sting through your legs. You were already regretting the alcohol and your hangover hadn’t even started yet. 

“Let’s sleep at my place tonight, Cariño. We’ll clean this up tomorrow.” 

You nodded, teary eyed again. You didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or next week, or any time in the future that didn’t include your mom. If Javi noticed your tears, he didn’t say anything about them, and you were grateful for his wherewithal. He always knew exactly how to handle you, and that was part of the reason you’d fallen in love with him.  

Love. You blanched. Nope. Not thinking about that right now. 

You shrugged the thought away as Javi lifted you bridal style in his arms. Javier Peña didn’t fall in love, and you certainly weren’t going to be the woman to challenge that. 

- 

Bonus Scene: Steve confronting Javi about his secret relationship with you. 

“Are you fucking stupid? You’ve got to be, to pull this bullshit.” 

Javi watched Steve pace across his living room. Again. He’d been walking a hole in the rug for half an hour, and Javi wasn’t sure Steve would be stopping his rant anytime soon.  

Technically, Javi deserved this. Everything Steve was saying was true. He was jeopardizing not only his career, but hers too. The integrity of the investigation against Escobar would be questioned if word got out that two of the three agents assigned to his case were fucking each other. Not to mention how quickly procedure would be thrown out the window if either of them were in danger. There’s a reason why those rules existed. 

But like most things, it wasn’t that simple. Javi hadn’t been able to offer an excuse for when Steve caught him carrying her into his apartment, taped to high hell with gauze and tipsy as all get out. He’d simply shrugged, unlocked the door, and carried her through the frame without a second glance. 

Now, Steve wasn’t stupid, but he chalked up that incident to her being overwhelmed with grief. What friend wouldn’t offer their couch up to their drunk, mourning partner when she needed it? What he didn’t know was how often she slept at Javi’s already. She even had a toothbrush in his bathroom and a stack of books piled on one of the nightstands in his bedroom.  

Steve’s suspicions might’ve grown a little the weekend that she went home to Oceanside for her mother’s funeral. Weekends meant little to the DEA agents working Escobar’s case – every day was another day they could possibly learn information that may or may not give them someone who might know something about Escobar, or not – but Javi was especially fidgety the two days she was off on leave. 

Steve finally demanded to know what the hell was bothering Javi when he caught him staring at her empty seat for the third time in an hour. Javi brushed it off, claiming he hadn’t been sleeping well, but Steve wasn’t so easily persuaded to look the other way again.  

The final straw, the one that prompted the yelling and the insults and the pacing, made Javi’s relationship with her so obvious that there wasn’t a chance in hell he could talk his way out of it. Steve, being the hero best buddy that he was, had heard an alarming thump from Javi’s apartment, and taken it upon himself to investigate. What he hadn’t been expecting to find was his two partners, tangled in each other’s limbs, going at it on the kitchen counter like rabbits.  

Hence, the yelling. 

“I mean, seriously Javi? You could fuck any woman in the world, and you chose the one woman that’s off limits!” 

“Listen, man. I-” 

Javi tried again to interrupt Steve’s rant, to explain himself and what he felt for her. Steve was missing the bigger picture. Javi wasn’t just fucking her, he loved her. He couldn’t figure out if that would make Steve more or less angry about it. 

“You what, man? You what?!” Steve threw his hands in the air, beckoning an excuse that might help him understand why his partners would be such idiots. 

Javi struggled to translate his feelings into words. He hadn’t even told her yet exactly how he felt and saying it now felt weirdly similar to a trial run. He searched his head for the right words to describe what she was to him. 

“I’ve been sleeping.” Javi rested his hands on his hips and sighed, eyes flickering across the ceiling as he realized how incredibly stupid that sounded outside of his brain. “I know I love her, because I can sleep after I’ve talked to her.” 

Steve studied Javi, searching for any signs of deception. He narrowed his eyes when he couldn’t find any. 

“What do you mean you ‘love’ her?” 

“I mean, I fucking love her, man. I don’t know what you want me to say.” Javi was growing restless, tugging at the neckline of his button-down shirt. Conversations like these always made him antsy, and he could feel the temperature in his cheeks rising. 

“You.” Steve cocked a grin, “Javier Peña. In love? I’m not buying it man.” 

“Well, I’m not going to try and convince you.” It was Javi’s turn to throw his hands in the air in distress. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. 

“You actually care about her?” Steve’s expression morphed from disbelief to genuine shock. Javi wished he could take a picture to savor the moment. 

“Are you going to say anything to anyone?”  

Javi would normally never be so obvious about his fears, but he was thinking about her, back in her apartment, probably walking a hole into her rug as she waited for Steve and Javi to hash their shit out. The look on her face when Steve started yelling was enough to make Javi panic, and he was not above begging if it meant keeping her out of trouble. 

“Nah, man.” Steve shook his head, plopping down on Javi’s couch. Javi sagged with relief. “Just don’t make it so obvious. I was suspicious before I walked in on you two.” 

“Yeah, man.” Javi took another drag of his cigarette.  

“Have you told her?” 

“Told her what?” Javi couldn’t keep the bite from his tone. 

“That you love her.” 

Javi envied the ease that Steve managed when he talked about love. Before she’d been transferred to Colombia, Javi had never, in his life, been able to understand why anyone would choose to fall in love. He recognized the signs of it from the years of watching his parents interact, but he’d never experienced it before. When Steve talked about Connie, whether it was a complaint or not, there was always an underlying tone of love in his words. When she showed up, everything Javi had ever thought about love was scrambled, and it terrified him. 

“No.” He blew out a slow trail of smoke. 

Steve nodded slowly in understanding. If anyone in the world could comprehend Javi’s mindset right now, it was the guy he’d spent hours and hours with every day for years. 

“Maybe you should.” 

“Yeah, maybe I should.” 

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

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[moniibu]

Reader finding out that Yan Bully is being sweet to them, kisses Yan Bully and is slowly falling for them?

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY X FEM READER *:･ﾟ✧

this is based on my other works, which are on my page. i plan on making a masterlist soon where you can just click.

things to watch out for: yandere themes, bullying, lovebombing(?), possessiveness, delusions, etc.

word count: i’m a little too lazy to do a word count this time 😅, but we both know it’s over 1k

summary: you and *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ have had a few rough patches. all of a sudden, her demeanor has switched, leaving you confused, angry, and captivated.

notes: hi everyone !! i am so sorry i took so long to make this request as well as make more parts for *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, since you guys like her so much. i’ve been busy with school and personal things so i haven’t had that much time until now to write this.

thank you once again anon for sending in a request! it means a lot to know how much you guys like my work.

this isn’t an official part two to the last request post i made, but i will be referencing from it, so make sure that you read it so you know what i’m talking about.

this honestly goes more with the second one rather than the ask itself, but they’re similar, so i added them both.

reblogging/reposting is appreciated, and like this anon here, if you would like to see anything specific, just request since requests/ask ARE OPEN !!

someone commented about the name a while ago, but this was already made, so i might use the name in the next post if i make another post about *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧

remember, this is a LESBIAN post, so MEN & MEN ALIGNED PEOPLE DNI!!

thank you guys all sm for the love and support!! i hope you enjoy this next post, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY X FEM READER *:･ﾟ✧ !!

it’s been two weeks since the whole “buy me food or else” incident, and ever since then, it’s been like hell. you hated *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. you hated the way that she purposely targeted you, or the way she made sure that you were alone from everyone else so that you would have to be by yourself. you hated the fact that you had to personally change your route to school just so she would leave you alone.

you hated *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, loathed her even, and you were sure that she felt the same way. that is, until she started following you around like she was your own personal bodyguard. instead of bullying you like she used to, she now had a possessive streak.

she no longer targeted you. instead of making you eat alone, you were now forced to eat with her and the rest of the delinquents. you were now forced to sit with her when you two shared a class. you two “coincidentally” started sharing a gym class? now no one wants to be your partner —which is thanks to her— only leaving you with picking *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ as your partner.

you hated it. she went from being the biggest migraine to completely controlling your life. in fact, the change in *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ actions only fueled your hatred more than it was before. you knew you needed to get rid of this version of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, and fast. or, at least back to where you two weren’t as close as she tried to force now.

you secretly tried to find a way to get rid of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ once and for all, or at least tried too. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ saw all of it, and quite frankly, she thought it was kinda cute. did you really think you would be able to get rid of her? she likes you, and will do anything in her power for you to feel the same way and understand how much love she has for you.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ thought it was funny at first, until she realized that means she failed in giving you an understanding that you were hers. she wanted to love you and protect you. she wanted to cherish you, and if given the chance, provide for you. she failed at letting you know, but there’s nothing money and connections can’t fix, and she has plenty of them.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ first starts harassing your friends into giving her information on what you liked. the ones who did got things in return, like getting full marks for the month or being ranked top 10 in the school. the others who decided to keep their mouths shut while *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ was being nice? they were either pulled from their sports and clubs, or purposely given bad grades unless they gave up information. the ones who still wouldn’t let up were given a talking to by some of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s other “friends”.

a couple of people dropped you while others looked at you in disgust. you were shocked and confused. you didn’t know what happened, or what got your friends to act like this until you realized that this must be one of *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ doings.

honestly? you were embarrassed and blue. why would she do this? what did you do that was so terrible that not only did she bully you and force you to buy her food, but now she decided to alienate your friends from you? you had enough. you decided you were going to confront her right after the day was over with.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ locked herself in the bathroom. after getting information from your friends, she personally dressed herself to make sure that she was your exact type. she wanted you to blush the second you saw her, for you to look at her and get all coy the way she does —internally— with you. after finding out you liked people with curls, she went to the salon that exact day to make sure it was perfect.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ had on a black compression shirt, outlining her muscles. she knew you had a thing for them, and wanting to show them off so she could prove to you that she was strong and could take care of you if needed. she was nervous. so far, she’s done a 180. it might come as a surprise to you, but she genuinely wants you to know and see how much she wants you.

once *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ believes that she looks good, she grabs the bouquet of red roses and her gift bag of a necklace that she knows that you’ve been eyeing. she hopes that you don’t reject her.

after all, she’s *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, there’s no way you could reject her. sure, she would be upset, but she knows deep down that you love her. you rejecting her —if you do— just means that she has to try again until she gets it right.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ walks down the hallway with her head held high. she’s confident, and gotten rid of everything that might ruin what could come true.

you on the other hand are a complete opposite from how *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ is feeling. anger is pulsing through your veins, and you can’t wait to see her so you can demand answers on why she did what she did.

you walk down the hallway and see *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. while she has a mixture of happiness and being flustered on her face, you on the other hand mismatch her energy. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ can see it, and her mood immediately changes.

“*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧, get over here, now. let’s talk.” you leave no room for argument, anger clear as day in your voice.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ follows behind you silently like a kicked puppy. she’s usually angry, cold, and walks around with an “i don’t care” attitude. yet here she was, wondering what it was that she did that make you talk to her that way.

you lead *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ to an empty classroom. after she walks in you shut the door behind you. “sit. we’re going to talk and you will explain yourself. i don’t care if you want to or you “don’t care”, but we’re not leaving this room until you say something.”

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ does as you say. she sits down, and waits for you to speak, which is a first for you. you look at *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. the sight of her makes you sick and angry to your core, but you wanted answers, no matter how rough the situation might go.

you may want answers from her, but after all, she’s a bully. you two are alone, and if she wanted to, she could beat you up and leave you the classroom in pain. you think about how to go about it without making something wild like that a possibility. you begin to tear up. all the emotions you’ve been holding back begin to crumble. your walls are beginning to break, and the reality of the situation finally hits you. the woman in front of you purposefully bullied and targeted friends and people you knew, and for what? a bouquet of roses? a necklace?

you don’t say anything at first, but eventually you feel your eyes water, which turns into tears running down your cheeks. you may look like a crybaby right now, but you don’t dare to wipe them. you want *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ to know exactly how much pain and heartbreak she has caused you.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s heart breaks at the sight of your tears. she’s never wanted to cause you this much pain. the fact that your crying over her actions makes her want to take her anger out on someone. she made you cry, which makes her feel like an ass. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ may act like a bully and that she doesn’t care about anyone or anything, but the sight of you crying is making her feel something she hasn’t felt in a long time:

guilt.

she doesn’t say anything, but looks bewildered when you say something. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ lifts her head up, asking for you to repeat yourself.

“i said, why.” a sob comes out of your throat, but quickly switches to anger. “WHY. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU THAT HAS MADE YOU LIKE THIS.” you shout. “WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU THAT HAS MADE YOU TARGET ME.”

it was the first time *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ has seen you show an ounce of actual emotion. the question catches her off guard, and all she can do is muster out a “what?”

“stop acting dumb.” you sneer. “everyday when i come to school you’re right in my face, picking on what i’m wearing. when it’s lunchtime, you purposely drag me to your table, even when you know i don’t want anything to do with you or your other delinquent friends. you then target my friends and bully them, for what? a gift? and you think that a twenty dollar bouquet of roses and a necklace will make up for everything you’ve done?”

“w-what? no! that’s not why i did it.” *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ banters, or at least tries to. “you have it all wrong. please, let me explain.” *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ gives you a pleading look, and the only thing you can do is agree in response.

“fine. that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? explain yourself.”

“okay. it was like that in the beginning. i did hate you. i hated the fact that you acted so nice, even when people gave you a look that meant that they hated you, and i know you could see it too. i hated how you smiled to everyone. i hated how you had a calming vibe and for once in my life, you were a person that didn’t make me immediately hate them. while i was hating you, i didn’t realized that i loved you, and because i didn’t understand that feeling, i took it out on you.”

by now, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ is on the verge of tears herself. “stop crying. you have no reason to cry. you were purposely rude just because you could be.” the look you gave *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ was full of disgust and shame. instead of acting like she didn’t care, she switches up, grabbing your wrist desperately. “please! i’m sorry! please, give me a chance! i know you don’t believe me but at least let me at least prove it to you.”

before you could say something to combat her, she shoves the roses in your hands. “please, give me a chance to prove to you that i don’t actually hate you. i want to let you know that i’m truly sorry.” before you can say anything, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ gives you a peck on the cheek and walks out of the classroom.

at first you didn’t believe her, but *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ kept true to her word. she’s a delinquent after all, so when it came to your friends, she could care less. but with you? *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ changed up her whole act. it began with her giving you a small smile before you walked through the door. she would look at you lovingly if you walked past her.

as for the gifts, she brought you one each day. the first day, it was a pair of earrings from a store you liked. the second day, it was a coat from a store you were window shopping at. each day it was something you longed for, or it was something little that showed you that she was paying attention to you.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ has become desperate. she had been bringing you gifts, smiling at you, and even staring at you. she was beginning to think it didn’t work until you grabbed her hand, leading her towards the classroom you took her to two weeks prior.

“I don’t forgive you, at all. what you did has hurt me, angered me, and irritated me. you still have a lot to make up for if you want me to forgive you.”

“i understand.” *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ says. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that means that you’ll forgive me.”

you stand on your tippy toes, reaching towards *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s lips, giving her a kiss. “thank you for the gifts. i appreciated them.”

you look away shyly before pulling away, or at least try to. before you can pull away, *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ grabs your arm harshly, smashing her lips onto yours. she grabs your waist, pulling you as close to her as you physically can. she grabs your arms and puts them on her neck, kissing your jaw and your cheeks before going back to your lips, kissing them once more. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ rubs the sides of your waist, asking to put her tongue inside your mouth.

you grant it, and for what seems like forever, the two of you have a make-out session that makes it feel like you two are in your own world. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ moves forward, almost demanding more. your tongues move in a frenzy, and while you hate to admit it, you’re enjoying the kiss yourself. you rake your hands through *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧’s hair, which makes her moan into the kiss.

your let go to break for air and stare at *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧. you look at her before she grabs you in her arms, hugging you like a lover. “don’t worry. i’ll make it where you’ll see my actions and immediately know it’s love instead of doubt.”

“i’ll know it when i see it.” you scoff. outside, there was someone that saw your make-out session. you didn’t see it, but *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ surely did. she looked at that person with a haunting look in her eyes, almost daring them to try and fuck with her.

*✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ was happy that you accepted her. you may not have accepted her fully, but it was a start. maybe you should’ve went with your instincts and removed her from your life forever. *✧･ﾟFEM YANDERE DELINQUENT/BULLY *:･ﾟ✧ had just gotten a taste of you, and she was already addicted. now that she had you in her arms, she was never letting go.

you were hers.

forever.

*✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:

*✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*:･ﾟ✧ *✧*

this idea was made and created by @moniibu. all rights reserved to @moniibu, and you are NOT allowed to steal, copy, or translate this work.

January 2024.

[miss-anachronism]

for requests. i need. valen x male magister merlin. im a sucker for this guy. anything really. thank you!

Ooh, I’ve never read an x reader/MC fic, let alone written one! New territory, as exciting as it is scary.

I’m not so sure I have a good grip on Valen’s character, but I tried to write it from his perspective. I hope this suits your needs! It gets a bit philosophical. And sorry if its OOC :,)

He isn’t sure what to think, really.

They’re sitting around a dying campfire, just outside the borders of the Dark Forest. Lorsan is pacing somewhere in the distance, muttering to himself, or to the wind, maybe. Trying to figure out what’s happened to his home. Korin leans against a tree, tending to his wounds- courtesy of Merlin. The magister himself is across from Valen, wrapping his own wound and chattering with his hamsters.

Logically, Valen knows that the lesson he should have taken from this scramble is a lot more profound than what’s been on his mind. He should be contemplating the Wilders, the forest, their next steps, how to protect the refugees. And he’s trying to, but it’s just that something- someone- keeps catching his attention.

He didn’t know Merlin could bleed.

It’s such a silly observation. But as Valen watches the angry red wound on Merlin’s forearm, his gut twists. It’s like seeing a god’s flesh tear, and seeing that its blood is the same bright red as his own.

Valen isn’t sure what exactly Merlin is. As far as he knows, no one does, not even Merlin himself. But to the average young Lightbearer, he’s a myth. A legendary figure that you might glimpse once in your life, but would never get to meet. Never speak with, let alone camp alongside. Fight alongside. Merlin throws his head back to laugh at something Chippy has said, and something stirs in Valen’s ribs, something he knows is dangerous.

All of this is dangerous. Merlin is not someone to be loved; Valen has seen what happened to Mirael. Forgotten about, left in the dust, accidentally as it was. The way she watches Merlin, her face made of mixed admiration, bitterness, and regret. He wonders if she would take it all back, if she could. Scariest of all, when she bid them farewell, the look in her eyes sent an ugly pain of jealousy through Valen’s chest. And he doesn’t want that to happen to him, selfish as that may be. Every time Merlin falls asleep, he risks waking up knowing nothing.

Besides, what is Valen to a hero of myth? His whole life has been barely a blink in Merlin’s. Whatever he is, there is no reasonable way Valen could ever mean something to Merlin the way that Merlin is beginning to mean something to him. Merlin will outlive him a thousand times over. And he’s probably met a thousand different people, fallen in love with quite a few of them. Someone who has experienced so much life, so much loss, can they still love? Could they ever?

And yet, he bleeds. It’s such a human weakness that it seems impossible. Valen knew heroes could bleed; he didn’t know gods could. Merlin does not go about the world serene and calculating, watching every moment with practiced ease. He stumbles, laughs, misses with his spells. He jostles Valen’s pauldron excitedly when they win a fight, he’s the last to flee when they lose, ensuring everyone else has disengaged safely. He has only one dimple, on his left cheek. Sometimes he speaks so fast his words blend together, and Hammie has to remind him to slow down. It’s endearing. It’s human. Valen doesn’t know what to do with it. Because it was so much easier, to write off affection as admiration. When the pieces had first clicked, he thought it all made sense. The natural pull that the magister gave off- yes, of course, it was just Merlin’s nature. But they’re a week into this camaraderie, and Valen keeps noticing things like the lick of hair on his neck that doesn’t sit flat.

Pretty fucking annoying, that’s what it is. Valen’s always prouded himself on his ability to swerve out of love’s path. He can flirt and charm all he wants, but at the end of the day all the love letters he receives are ink and paper, nothing more. Whenever someone seriously reciprocates- god forbid- he disengages as smoothly as he can, lest they get the wrong impression.

But Merlin has changed all that, somehow. Impossibly so. He supposes it’s in his nature, to take everything and turn it upside down. Valen doesn’t want to flirt with the Magister, to laugh as he flushes under his praise. Well, it would be nice, he always has liked the attention; but the thing is, that isn’t the point. With Merlin, he just wants to be. No performance, no elaborate courtship. Just… be. Together. All this, for someone who is more myth than man.

It seems like the scariest thing he’s ever faced.

“Valen?”

He jumps as the magister suddenly speaks, and realizes with mounting embarrassment that he’s been staring the whole time. Luckily, the magister grins good-naturedly- and ah, there’s that dimple again.

“Lost in thought?”

“You could say that.”

He leans back on his hands and forces his face into a smirk. It’s easier than he anticipated; despite everything, Merlin makes it simple to be around him.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” Merlin mirrors his position as Chippy and Hammie scuttle away, the former setting off on a quest to climb the nearest tree, “I really appreciate your help in all of this. Coming along, and aiding me- far past your assigned duties. It isn’t lost to me.”

Valen gives him a look. “Of course, magister. I’m not one to leave danger to fester; I’m sorry you ever had that impression of me.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…” Merlin’s brow furrows as he collects his thoughts. “You know, you seem so… charmingly nonchalant. Like nothing bothers you. But that clearly isn’t true. You care a lot, Valen, and it’s really, really nice to see. You’re someone who is just… good, you know? And I appreciate it.” He grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Kinda cheesy compliment. I’ve lost all my memories, you know, but being around you- and Lorsan, Cassadee, Mirael- honestly, I don’t feel like I’m missing much of anything. Everything I need is right here.”

He shrugs and turns back to the fire, as if he has not sent Valen’s mind reeling. Functionally, Merlin has been aware for only a week- one week out of thousands of years. He’s wondered how he’s been so calm about the whole thing, and…

And it’s hard to believe, but it’s much harder to doubt what Merlin says, not as he stares into the fire with that soft smile. It dawns on Valen that he probably knows more about Merlin than Merlin does- all of the legends, at least. And yet, despite that insurmountable legacy, despite the name and title that bears unimaginable weight, Merlin is… content. Content in just moving forward, and hoping he’s doing the right thing.

And isn’t that all that Valen’s doing, as well? He doesn’t deserve all this praise; he always shies away from large displays of gratitude, loathing how awkward they make him feel. Because he’s just moving forward, and trying to do the right thing. It’s a simple motive, really. Faith, and what effort it takes to retain it. He always thought Merlin would have some deeper, existential knowledge of the world that would put all else to shame- access to the secrets of the universe, and what not. And, certainly, his magical capabilities are second to none- but his philosophy, the way he lives; it very well might be human after all.

Maybe the usual Merlin, the one with all his memories, is the knowledgeable, immovable sage that Valen grew to look up to. Maybe, once restored, Merlin will become that god-like fairytale hero, wisdom surpassing all others, power knowing no ends.

Selfishly, Valen hopes that never happens. That the Merlin in front of him stays the same, annoying dimple and all, and keeps looking at Valen like that. Like he sees something in him that Valen never knew was there. He hopes Merlin never raises above their quips, their banter.

He know’s it’s all in vain. But god, he hopes.

[vixensbrainrotts]

Young and Beautiful — Hanma Shuji

Content: Imagines

Warnings: vaguely sexual tension, nothing nsfw though

Summary: you decide to take boudoir pictures, and pleasantly surprised by your (very) hot photographer.

Vixen’s two cents: hello! This started out as an imagine but i realized i dont really like writing imagines (it feels so unstructured), so have this little scenario instead. Also, whilst rereading this i realize that Shui seems a little creepy and i swear i dint want him to come off like that?! It was a hot idea in my head, idk how well that that translated, lmk about it! Remember my REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! Also im still on the hunt for moots for proofreading and triangulation in case anyone is interested please contact me!!

When your auntie told you to go and take boudoir pictures, you thought she was talking crazy and waved her off with a polite smile, but she wouldn’t let up. “You’re as young and beautiful as you’ll ever be! Take them for yourself when you’re old like me! It might seem awkward but it’ll be worth it!”

If you would tell yourself from a week ago that you were had booked an appointment to the nearest place, you would have fainted. And if you would have told yourself from 4 hours ago, when you booked that appointment that you would eventually have to step INTO the store too, you would have freaked out. Screw that, you were freaking out now.

You had considered turning around and running about four or five times, but that little voice in the back of your head going pussy wouldnt leave you alone. In a burst of confidence you entered the shop and were met with a surprisingly comfortable atmosphere, and a cozy interior.

You scan the shop for a few seconds, deeming it good enough not to run out of right away, before a tall, slim figure emerged from one of the Backrooms. He wore a lazy smile when he came to you, clicking away at the computer on the desk before asking “Are you my boudoir at 4?” In a smooth, low voice.

You nod shyly in response, fidgeting with your hands a little. He chuckled in response “Don’t worry love, I won’t do anything- this is my job after all.”

He led you to a studio type room and handed you a robe. “Over there.” He said, and a long index of his rose to gesture to a little changing cabin in the corner of the room. “Ill go get everything set up for us.” And with that, he left you to freak out in the changing rooms because fuck he’s hot!

When you emerge again he’s already handling some sort of lenses to the end of the cameras, lights and props set up and ready to go. When he looks to you, you grow shy again and tug the robe a little tighter around your body. He sees this and nods reassuringly “It’s normal to be nervous, sweetheart.” Which only makes you more nervous.

He notices, but chooses to ignore it as he guides you to one of the chairs that are set up. “Now dont worry too much about anything. Just do your thing, ill do all the magic.” You sit, admittedly a little more relaxed but still stiff and he huffs with a smile. “Relax girl! You dont want these looking like pass photos do you?” And that makes you giggle a litte, finally loosening up again.

“There we go. That’s better already. Want me to talk you through it, distract you a little? Do you think that would help?” Eyes are soft but his gaze burns straight through you. “I think that would help, yeah.” And that makes him smile a little.

“How old are you anyway? You look very young- I don’t normally get a lot of girls your age.” He lifts the camera and clicks something on a little machine that begins whirring lightly in the background, producing little qualms of smoke. “I uh, im twenty two. Don’t get me wrong I would have never done this on my own accord, but my auntie, she said that id regret it my whole life if i don’t do this and all such things.”

Whilst you had been explaining, your robe had started slipping off your shoulders. You had noticed but found it the most natural transition into the inevitable. Getting more comfortable, you decided to throw your legs over one of the seat’s armrests, leaning back a little, getting comfortable, as he had advised.

“Thank your auntie for me then.” He whispered underneath his breath, the shutter clicking softly.