#but it turns out it's even worse when you are a perfectionist.

[cardo-de-comer]

matej doodle

[apricityxoxo]

Help and Care

✧.* Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

✧.* wc 5,786 (teheeheee)

✧.* summary: he definitely didn't need help, he doesn't need someone to care for him. no one has ever helped him before, and no one ever cared so why would they start now. he doesn't care, he definitely doesn't need help. so why does he keep ending up in the infirmary with the beautiful nurse? and why does he keep coming back to you?

✧.* contents: fluff, a bit of angst, and a sprinkle of suggestive dialogue

here's the whole story! it took me a while but I hope you all enjoy it, sorry I'm a perfectionist. I had a lot of fun writing this but let me know what you all think. i might write a pt 2 to this idk. Also pls excuse the medical and military inaccuracies

enjoy

Help. He hates help. He can’t stand it. When others look at him, when he looks at himself, he doesn’t see himself as someone dependent on others. Why else would he enlist, he didn’t need help, he learned that the hard way. No one ever helped him and he adjusted, so why would he need help now? People are dependent on him; they rely on him. When someone is injured, scared, or dead it’s up to him to fix the situation, to solve the problems of others, to carry the fallen.

When Price told him to go to the nurse he was upset, actually, he was pissed. He was not a child who scraped his knee playing football at school. He was a soldier; he was more than a mere man. He knew how to endure, he knew how to carry his weight, and he knew that he didn’t need to see the nurse. He knew what was wrong with him, he just bruised his ribs. He didn’t need some old woman with a bad attitude to tell him what he already knew.

He endured and he resisted the pain for exactly two weeks, but the pain was only getting worse. He was confused and didn’t know what to do, he hoped that no one had noticed and he didn’t want people to start. He didn’t want questions or concerns, he wanted relief and nothing more.

He thought no one would notice and he was so wrong.

Training.

Simon hated training the new recruits, they were cocky and they didn’t know their place. They thought after joining and passing the initial physical exams, they were done.

They were most definitely not done. They needed to adjust, physically and mentally, to fit in. Many people think the initial physical and mental exams are where new recruits break, no they break here, during training…with him. He hated it but knew why Price asked him to do it.

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Price usually did rounds during training, he watched the recruits and the techniques of the other task forces. The smell of sweat, dirt, and blood filled his system and that smell drew his attention to Ghost. Today he felt the need to check on Ghost and see how he was doing. Ghost was a good teacher even though he didn’t realize this, Price did though.

Ghost was mean, harsh, and disciplined, and the people he taught tended not to last long, however, the ones who did turn out to be great because the one thing that Ghost teaches best is endurance.

When Price was watching him train, he started to get upset and confused. This was most definitely different from the big and bad Ghost he was used to. He thought at first that "maybe Ghost was pulling his punches?" When he paired Ghost up to train some of the rookies, he thought maybe Simon was finally going soft.

Usually after training, the rookies would be sore, and in pain, sometimes they might even need to be excused to nurse. However, these past few weeks the rookies have been surprisingly...fine. Maybe even better than fine and it's been making them cocky, it's boosted some of their egos.

It would probably boost his ego too, Price chuckled. If he were to beat the big, brutal, scary Ghost while still a rookie. However, they are starting to get obnoxious because they are taunting and boasting, which is certainly something that Price could not have. It was starting to piss him off. Price was going to tell Ghost that if he didn’t put these pricks in line, there were going to be consequences.

That was the plan, but then he took a closer look and that’s when he saw it.

He saw the way that Ghost taking more hits than normal, he was slow to react and he was even slower to respond. His stance was off as well, usually his form made him feel like a giant among men but now he looked like he was shrinking himself, like it was his first day of training. Ghost wasn’t pulling his punches, he wasn't holding back, he was weak.

Now he was pissed.

Price knew.

Price knew exactly why Ghost wasn’t as strong as he usually is, why his punches aren’t as powerful as they normally are. Ghost was a disobedient bastard and Price was pissed.

“STOP! That’s enough training for today, soldiers.”

“Ghost, come now!”

“Yes, Captain” Ghost replied in his thick Manchester accent.

“The hell is wrong with you Lieutenant!”

“Nothin' Capt’n, I'm just-”

“You’re just hurt, did you go to the nurse?” Price knew the answer.

“I didn’t feel the need to go to the medical facility Capt’n”

“You didn’t feel the need to go?” Price asked Simon and looked at him like he was crazy. Since when did his soldiers feel the need for an opinion?

“If you don’t get your ass to the medical facility right now, you’re going to be training these pricks for three months straight. You understand?”

“Yessir!”

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Unbelievable!

He doesn’t need to be here. As he walks to the nurse’s offices, he feels everyone's eyes on him. He’s rarely ever here and because of that it draws the eye, lots of them. He thanked his balaclava every day because without it, based on the face he was making, some might think he was actually nervous.

He doesn’t want some old hag telling him what to do and degrading him for not coming sooner. Some old nurse or doctor telling him everything he already knows just to insult him and show off their vast vocabulary just to try and make him feel small. that’s what they all do, that’s what his father did.

He approaches the front desk and the older woman tells him to go to office number 222. He makes his way over, navigating the hallways,  and he finds the office. The sign is decorated with small pink flowers and a white cat with a red bow. He resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Before he goes and knocks on the door, he dries his palms on his pants, desperately hoping to get over this.

Knock-knock.

Some time passed but then he heard a soft voice say…

“Come on in”

He opened the door and he was surprised that the soft voice matched a beautifully soft face. A face with beautifully unique features that worked together in harmony to make the beautiful woman that sat before him.

God damn.

Those were the only words on his mind.

It wasn’t an old woman who looked like she had a chip on her shoulder and carried a deep grudge, nor someone who looked like they were going to insult him… no. definitely not.

It was a young woman.

A beautiful young woman.

A beautiful young woman with the most inviting features. Absolutely gorgeous, he’s never seen a woman this beautiful ever on this base. He feels like she doesn’t belong here, her face is an exact contrast to the environment he surrounds himself every day. He has a million questions he wants to ask her, and he feels the strong urge to get closer to her. He’s such a creep. He doesn’t even know her name.

He feels his mouth goes dry and his hands sweat. Gross. He hasn’t felt this way since Secondary School, he feels like a dork and he doesn’t know what is wrong with him.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you!” Her voice was cheery and if he was a little bit more nervous, he wouldn’t notice the shock on her face and the tremble in her voice. He was used to that reaction; it was probably due to his appearance. her voice matched her face and he felt his heart beat faster, he finally was going to die.

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He was just staring at you, he was just looking. You’ve heard rumors of him, of his personality. The big bad Ghost, the professional killer who lacks mercy for anyone. He was just staring at you and it was freaking you out. What’s wrong with him, why is he here in the nurse's office? Did he hurt someone? Or worse…

He’s still staring.

“… excuse me, is everything alright?”

“Erm…yeah, sorry” he responded and if your mind weren’t running a mile a minute you would have heard the way he sounded nervous.

He clears his throat and then replies “Captain Price has recommended I take a visit down here.” God his voice was so deep. He was so smooth, he had a thick accent that wasn’t like any of the others you heard on base. His voice was not at all soft but the way he spoke made something bubble inside you. 

Wait. ‘take a visit down here’

Oh. He needed help. 

“Oh… okay sir, what seems to be the problem?” You try your best to put on your customer service voice and hide the fact that you're wondering what this man might need help with. 

“Erm… last deployment I bruised my ribs real bad, don't know how…”

You try to listen, you have to pretend to do so. You're writing as he describes his symptoms. He has stomach pain, difficulty breathing, tenderness in his abdomen, and bruising. He describes his symptoms and you feel so bad for him and at the same time, you feel disgusted in yourself. 

Disgusted because instead of being focused on how he describes his pain, you focused on his attractive ass voice. You can't help it, you're just a girl. 

No, You need to remain a professional.

“Okay Lieutenant Riley, if it's all right with you, I’d like to examine your abdomen.”

“Yeah… that's fine” he sounds hesitant you feel bad… you feel like you need to reassure him.

“Don't worry lieutenant, I'm sure everything is going to be just fine.” you try to reassure him and when you do, you unconsciously give him a soft smile.

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Well, you have to ask him to take off his shirt. That was something that didn't occur to you. He doesn't have to comply, you could do the whole checkup with his shirt on. You hope he doesn't so you save yourself from embarrassment. 

“Sir, if you do not mind, may I ask you to remove your um… t-shirt?” you ask, trying your hardest to remain professional. It's completely reasonable for a medical professional to ask a patient to remove their shirt when they had an abdomen injury.

“You don't necessarily have to I'm sure I can find a way to…”

“I don't mind” Lieutenant Riley cuts you off as he agrees.

He sits on the examination table and removes his shirt.

You think you just died. You are short of breath and you think you died because there's an angel right in front of you. If you were anywhere else you would admire his powerfully built body, but you were more concerned with the bruising on his stomach.

You feel and you touch his body, extremely concerned about his well-being. His stomach was black and blue, his stomach was sore, and he could barely bend over. 

You were worried but also shocked because this man worked and trained in such a condition for about a week. You knew of Simon Riley and you knew of his reputation and this just supported the fact that he's an absolute abled-bodied unit… it was almost scary.

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“I believe you have a few broken ribs…sir.” You say almost scared of his reaction. He needed x-rays, actually he needed time off. 

“I'll recommend you an off-base X-ray Tech to take pictures of your abdomen, I also recommended to your captain that you take time off to heal. After we get your x-rays, I recommend you visit me every two weeks so we can look over your progress ” You tell him, distracted as you look over all your notes.

“Oh ok, every two weeks, and how long will it take to heal…” Luitenent Riley asked, he sounded nervous and you started to feel bad for talking to him so nonchalantly about his condition.

“Um should take about two months to heal. Ribs tend to heal rather quickly, however, since they weren't treated earlier it might take a while longer. Don't worry I’m sure you'll feel better rather quickly.” You try to give him a little bit of comfort. You give Luitenent Riley instructions, stating how to take care of himself and treat his injuries. 

He collects his stuff and is getting ready to leave before he turns around looks you up and meets your eye. 

“Thank you so much luv, ‘preciate it.” He tells you, in a soft accented voice.

“It's not a problem Luitenent.” You tell him and you feel your heart pick up its pace.

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Week 2 

He was supposed to visit today, you were expecting him today. You had all of his notes laid out and you were just waiting. 

Waiting.

Waiting. 

Other patients came and went but you were still looking forward to one specific client. The first time he visited you had no time to admire his large and confident stance when he walked into the room. He walked into the room with utter confidence as if he knew it would have an effect on you.

AND GAHHH LEEE

When he removed his shirt, you don't know how you controlled yourself. You knew he was a big man with a hefty build but you were not expecting what you saw. Your eyes were blessed with a solid, broad-shouldered, athletic man.

The literal definition of manly, if he wasn't in the military you were sure he would be off somewhere chopping wood or something. If you weren't at work you're sure you would be lying in bed kicking your feet.

When he spoke to you he had such a deep and low baritone voice that was heavily accented. You never had a thing for accents but he was something else completely. Low and intimidating, his language was professional but you could tell that he was trying not to curse and use slang. It's embarrassing to think about the things you'd do to hear him, swear or even say your name. In your head you know you’d sound like a rabid dog if he’d said it in that attractive ass voice-

Then you hear your name and think you might die. Actually, it was your last name and your medical title. But still—

It’s him.

He’s here. 

Remain professional! you scream and shout at yourself.

You greet him and try to make small talk, asking him how he’s doing, how he’s feeling, and what he’s been doing with his time off. It's hard, he's such a beefy and attractive man. You can't even see his face but based on just the way he walks, you know he's fine. 

Admittedly, working on this base that’s far away from your home made you forget how to act around an attractive man…

“Been reading too, I'm trying to distract myself. If ya have any recommendations just let me know.” he interrupts your thoughts and you relate to him. It gets boring between deployment he tells.

“What do you usually do between deployments?” you ask, sincerely.

“Train, train myself then train with others.” He replies.

You don’t ask anything else, you know that he must miss training every day. The way he says it makes you feel bad. You know many of the soldiers find solitude when they work on themselves and train. It calms them and helps them recover, it's almost a form of therapy. Simon can't do that, not with his injury. You feel a pang in your chest. 

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You go over his notes and x-rays. You give him a checkup and note that he’s healing rather quickly, based on the other scars you know that this isn’t his worst injury. 

You catch his eyes when you are going over everything with him and explaining your notes to him. He’s looking at you with his golden green eyes, staring you up and down. You feel sort of embarrassed because you don't feel cute at this moment. You didn’t put makeup on in the morning, just gloss on your plumped lip and curled your eyelashes. Your wash day is coming up too so you wrapped your hair in a colorful scar today.

The way he looked at you was the way men would look when you would walk into a club. When you had a full face and your hair was freshly done. When you had a tight and short dress that would accentuate your beautiful curves. When you knew that you looked stunning that's the way he was looking at you, right now.

His visit was finished and you put the date for the next visit in your calendar. Before he leaves he thanks you.

“I don't like doctors but I appreciate all you've done for me, miss.”

“Thank you Luitenenent, if you ever need a book recommendation you can always come see me.”

“Thank you.” He tells you and even though you can't see his face, you feel a smile radiate off him.

You feel like he’s such a kind man.

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Week 4

Today, on his next visit, he’s not as kind.

You know why. You can tell that he's antsy, that he wants to get back to work. He’s rushing the process and wants to do everything you told him not to do. He wants to disregard all the instructions you gave him. You’re used to that, soldiers want to get back to their daily routine and they’re itching to do something strenuous during the healing process.

You would be fine with that if it were not for his shortness with you. He was annoyed and that was completely acceptable but there was no need to be curt and downright rude to you.

His answers were short. After each question, while trying to make small talk he replied with a ‘Mmhmm’. He didn't make eye contact with you and when you would suggest activities for him to try and distract him, he would roll his eyes and brush it off. 

He didn't want to chat and you feel like this is not the same man, who came to visit last time.

Today’s visit was short, there was clearly no need for small talk on his end and no time for the flirting you wanted to do. 

You did yourself up today too and now that you think back at it, it feels like a waste of time. You enjoyed the visit you had with him last time you were looking forward to today's visit. However, that feeling quickly dissipated, when Luitenenent Riley came in with a bad attitude and short tone. You had no time for this today, you think you even returned that same energy. So the visit was short and he left with a slammed door following behind him.

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Lunchtime came around and you were most definitely looking forward to it. After a long day, that wasn't even over, all you wanted to do was eat. You grab your book and sit in your designated corner to eat in the loud cafeteria.

You feel relaxed when you start eating and open up your book. The loud cafeteria with the chatter of men and women surrounds you. It's kind of calming when you think about it. The laughs, small talk, and clattering cutlery fade in the background around you. This is just what you need after such a long and tiresome day. 

You try to focus on your book but then you are interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Is this seat taken?” You glance up from your book, you find him standing there, his presence commanding attention even in the busy room. Lieutenant Riley is looking down at you with a food tray in his hands. He refers to the seat across from you and you shake your head no. You try to avoid eye contact when he sits down, still feeling annoyed from earlier. 

He lifts his balaclava over his mouth and you both eat in silence. There’s a growing tension around you both. 

You eat your food and busy yourself with your book, however you can feel him looking at you. He ate in silence, his eyes occasionally meeting yours before darting away.

It was irritating.

Earlier he was being rude and barely talking to you and now he was acting timid, the audacity. You started to pick up the pace and eat your lunch faster.

Then he interrupted his silence with his deep sultry voice.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was disrespectful to you when you were only trying to help. I'm sorry. I've honestly been sick and tired of sitting around and doing nothing that I took out my anger on you and for that, I apologize.” It sounded like he practiced this. It makes you smile thinking about the Ghost practicing an apology in the mirror. You can just imagine him practicing and it warms your heart that he put this much energy into an apology.

“Thank you for your apology.” You reply in a soft voice.

There was silence for a while but it was interrupted by your voice.

“Um…I know it's hard, not being able to do the things you used to be able to do. I'm sure soon you will be able to get back to your routine and do everything that you want to do… and more. If You need to talk to someone, you can always come and see me. ” You tell him, a bit timidly. All you want to bring comfort to him and reassure him.

“Thank you,” he replies.

“No problem Luitenent” you respond.

“Call me, Simon.”

That was the end of the conversation. There was a soft smile on your face, and you both sat in a comfortable silence, taking quick glances at each other.

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Week 6

This next visit was much more casual than the previous two. Throughout the whole week before this upcoming visit, he’s been stopping by your office. 

In the beginning, he would just stop and say hello and indulge you with some small talk. Nothing more than checking in on you and asking how your day was. However lately, he’s been getting comfortable here. He’s claimed the large decorative leather chair in the corner of your office, closest to your desk. 

He would just sit there and talk to you about anything and everything. Conversations went from favorite foods to his most recent reads to how long you’ve been an RN. 

The other nurses in the building have gotten used to his presence in your office. When they come to visit or drop something off, his presence doesn’t throw them off anymore.  They’re used to the large man sitting comfortably in your office. 

Today was no different, he stopped by in the morning and you both got to chatting. An hour went by when it felt like mere minutes. Time flew by so fast that you almost forgot about his checkup.

“Oh!” You exclaim. “I'm such an idiot, I almost forgot why you were here Simon.” you shoot up from your desk and walk over to the examination table, slapping it twice with a big grin on your face

“Alright Simon, let’s get this over with!” You sell him with a large smile on your face. 

Simon slaps his knees and pushes himself off of the deep and comfortable chair. He makes his way across your office looking at all of the flowers around your office and the Sanrio Characters you have scattered around. 

When he gets to the examination table, just as you're about to move out of the way, he grabs your waist and moves you to the side. He lets his hands linger and he makes eye contact with you as he sits on the chair. 

You're certain he’s smiling under that stupid balaclava.

Cocky bastard. 

You clear your throat and attempt to focus on your work. The checkup only lasts a few minutes, he’s getting so much better. You would be so excited to tell him that he can start getting back to his normal routine, but you're distracted.

Distracted because he’s so touchy. First, he touches your waist, he must know that it has some sort of effect on you because then he touches your clothes. 

During the checkup when you need to do something basic and mindless, he grabs the corner of your coat and rubs yours between his fingers. When you speak to him he’s doing the same with your black scrubs.

“You can start getting back to your regular routine, like training and stuff. Don’t rush it or anything, just …baby steps'' you say, you move yourself to stand in between his legs.

“That right?” He asks but he’s not focused on what you say. He’s focused on your plump lips and you think it’s turning you on. His eyes slowly make their way back to your eyes. 

“Mmmhhh! But nothing too rough.” You reply looking back at him. You feel his hands make their way up your waist. 

“Not even a little rough?” He asks. You both start to lean closer and he takes one hand off of your waist and takes it toward his mask. 

Oh god! What is he doing? Is he going to show his face? Kiss you! Or maybe—

Knock Knock

The loud knock draws your attention away from Simon and you pull yourself away from between his legs.

You clear your throat and attempt to fix yourself even though you two have done nothing. 

“Come in!” You shout, voice cracking a bit. 

One of the more intimidating on-field military nurses enters your office. Unlike you, this nurse is trained for the field and it shows. She is tall with broad muscular shoulders, and she confidently walks into the room with a skeptical look on her face. 

She takes a look at both you and Simon before addressing you. Telling you that your presence is wanted somewhere else. 

“Oh okay… I’ll be there in five ma’am.” You reply and she makes her way out of your office with a raised eyebrow at Simon. 

“Okay, Simon! your next check is in two weeks and that’s your last one, congratulations.” You address Simon trying to make it seem like you don’t remember the moment you two had before you were interrupted. Simon stands and makes his way over to you, stops right in front of you, and towers over you. If he was anyone else you’d give them hell for popping your personal space bubble.

“Alright…Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks, looking down at you. 

“Are you injured?” You ask sarcastically. 

“Got a paper cut. That’s what I get for reading” He shows you his thumb and starts to chuckle. You laugh right along with him. You look up at him and nod, you smile while biting your lip. 

“See you tomorrow Si”

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Week 8

Two months.

He’s known you for two months and he still doesn’t know how to act around you. This past month he’s seen you almost every day constantly visiting you. He feels like every day he’s getting to know you better and better. You’re a genius, graduating high school and college early which explains why you're so young. You love this little Japanese cat thing that’s called Hello Kitty. Your favorite flowers are tulips, and that’s something that stuck out to him. 

Tulips stuck out so much that he used his last day of time off to go out off base and buy you some. Today is his last official visit with you but he most definitely doesn’t want to make it his last time seeing you. He wants to see you more, a lot more. He wants to see you outside of work, he wants to see you outside your work clothes. He wants to see you in jeans, a dress, in his bed—

He shakes his head, trying to stop himself from thinking like that. It’s disrespectful to you, he hasn’t known you for longer than a couple of months, and he can’t think about you that way. 

It’s hard not thinking like that. He thinks about his third visit with you, when you both were rudely interrupted. He thinks about what your waist feels like, what your face looks like. He thinks about it often, especially at night–

He cringes at himself, he feels like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman. 

He tries to distract himself by looking at the tulips he bought for you. They’re closed and pink with long green stems. They’re beautiful just like you. He doesn’t understand, how someone can be so effortlessly beautiful. 

When you wear makeup or no makeup: beautiful. When you have your hair down and natural, sleek and bone straight, or up in braids, buns, or a scarf: beautiful. He can’t begin to comprehend it. 

Not only are you beautiful on the outside you have the personality of a goddess. You’re kind and compassionate but not afraid to snap back when someone gets out of line. That’s what makes him nervous, the doubts start flooding his mind. 

He’s still staring at the tulips when Soap enters his room. Unannounced. 

Soap comes into his quarters and scatters around the room. He looks in draws and under furniture, he's scattering stuff around as if he lives here. He is tossing his stuff around and looking in places he shouldn't be. Ghost hasn't even looked up, hasn't even acknowledged his presence. Ghost rolls his eyes so far back into his head when he hears Johnny whining to himself. 

“What’re ya lookin’ for Johnny?” He inquires in an irritated tone. 

“Lookin’ for my char–” He cuts himself off as finally looks up at Simon. He sees Simon slouched over his bed looking at the pot with pretty pink tulips and a wide, knowing, mischievous grin appears on his face. He looks like the Cheshire cat.

“Look at you Simon, those for that bird you've become so fond of…”

“Watch it Johnny” Ghost finally looks up, he's not pleased. Johnny continues like a mindless, careless, idiot.

“I've heard the rumors, some field nurse says she saw you two in her office…alone. Good on you Riley. Yer getting old now, ya deserve something like that. Herd shes a beauty too. ” He laughs obnoxiously at his own jokes. He slaps Ghost on the hard on his back and continues searching around his room

Ghost sits in silence for a while, thinking about Johnny’s words, he knows that he is joking, he’s not serious.

‘“Whatdya mean by I deserve something like that?” He finally inquires, the question was practically running around his mind. Johnny continued searching around the room as he answered his question.

“Well you know, ya have had a hard life. Yer always helping people, always trying to be the best, and ya never really had that soft life. I know ya don't think it but yer a good man and you deserve a good woman. We don't live forever so think ya should take the risk and do what you have to do… Are you sure you don't have my charger? He asked after giving some of the most meaningful advice that he'd ever heard.

“Get out,” he replied annoyed by his short attention span.

“Maybe Gaz has it,” he says and leaves the room as if nothing happened.

Those words resonate with Simon and he thinks about them for a long time. The time of the appointment was getting closer and closer. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about what he was going to say to you. He wanted to make it meaningful, he wanted to ask you out on a date. 

He wanted your friendship to continue and he wanted your relationship to grow and become more and more personal. He hasn't done this in a long time and he wanted it to mean something. 

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15 minutes.

He had 15 minutes to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

As he made his way down the familiar hallway toward your office, every step seemed to quicken the pace of his heartbeat. The clock was counting down, each second would go by, getting closer to the moment. In his hands, he held a bouquet of vibrant tulips. He knows that he is catching the eyes of the people around him but each person he passed seemed to fade into the background.

It felt like when he visited you the first time, his hands were sweating and he was nervous. He says ‘hello’ to the woman at the front desk. Even though her attitude has always been rude and uptight however he thanks her every day for sending him to office number 222. The number that completely changed his life.

Now, standing just a few steps away from your door, his mind blanked, and his carefully rehearsed words were completely forgotten. Doubt starting to flood his veins. His hands are sweating again, and his heart is beating a mile a minute. He doesn't know if he can do this, he feels like it is a mistake but his feet won't stop. 

They won't stop because even though his brain is telling him to stop, his heart won't let him.

It's been years since he's ever felt this nervous, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He finally arrives in front of your door and holds the flowers behind his back. He gets ready to knock and says a silent prayer to whoever or whatever higher being is listening.  

He knocks.

He waits a beat and then he hears your beautiful voice say “Come on in.”

Right as you say that without thinking Simon impulsively rips off his balaclava off his face and opens the door. He watches as you slowly look up and he swears he sees a natural glow around you. 

“Hi, how can I help you?”

He doesn't respond, instead, he slowly brings the tulips to his front and presents them to you with a soft smile. You look at the man and he watches as you raise an eyebrow, it's like he can see the clogs turning in your head. Then he sees the pieces being put together in your head and your face lights up.

“Simon?” You ask with a gorgeous smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆❀⋆˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚⋆

giggling and kicking my feet

[virgoilluminati]

Hospitality at its Finest

a Jude Bellingham oneshot

Inspo: Basically i have the shittiest job ever, and the only thing that got me through it was thinking about how jude would comfort me at the end of a long shift. I feel like a lot of you gurlies can relate so enjoy ☺️

You had had the worst day.

Probably the worst day you'd had in years

And the only person you could blame was your boss.

He was an A grade arsehole. He only cared about how much money your restaurant made. How it made him look in front of the restaurant owners.

He didn't care about your feelings, how crying had become a normal part of the shift or how every time he walked in, your stomach tied in knots.

Today was an exemplar of it.

At the beginning of the shift, everything was fairly normal. You were supposed to start at 12pm, but you had come in early, caring for your colleagues and knowing that they would need the extra staff for the new delivery. As you mentally prepared yourself for the shift, you started putting away the new stock and organizing the kitchen.

Quickly looking at your phone one last time, you clocked into work before admiring your lock screen with Jude. After all, all of this was for your future.

As you made your way to the shop floor, it was dead silent. So silent that you knew the second you opened the door in the backroom, you'd be greeted with a mess. But you didn't expect what you were greeted with. Stacks of dishes towered precariously, remnants of ingredients sprawled across counters, and an unmistakable odor of burnt food lingered heavily in the air.

Your closest colleague Haley was on the ground, covered by stock boxes. When she see's you walk in, she smiles, but the exhaustion in her eyes betrays her forced cheerfulness. Without wasting a moment, you rush to help her up, setting the boxes aside.

"Wha-"

"Don't ask. It's Jamie. He overestimated our multitasking skills again. We could use all the help we can get right now."

You nod, taking in the chaotic scene. Rolling up your sleeves, you dive into the mess, prioritizing tasks in your head.

The second the doors to your restaurant opened, a wave of eager customers flooded in, adding to the already hefty workload. You had only just made your way out of the heavy stock room before you were serving your first customer, your manager already shaking his head.

You grabbed a notepad, scribbling down order after order with precision. As you do such, you realise that no one has set up back of house, and whilst everyone was dealing with the stock, you'd be doing both positions, already.

Oh gawd it was going to be a long day.

The next issues happened just after the lunchtime peak. Your manager—ever the perfectionist—decided to go out and back home to get changed. He didn’t tell any of you, just putting your colleague Hetty in charge.

Now, for all of the reasons you loved Hetty, she was a terrible team leader. She spent half of the time bossing everyone around, whilst the other half chatting and gossiping about the managers. So when you realized that she was in charge, you knew it was going to turn sideways.

What made it even worse was halfway through the shift you suddenly got cramps. It could only mean one thing: your period.

You knew better than to miss your orders, so you managed to deal with the cramps and act normal. But as soon as anyone’s order was mentioned, you gritted your teeth. Deep down, you could feel your cramps churning up. But you managed to keep your cool. Or at least until Hetty began barking orders at you, telling you that while you were making a cheesecake, you also needed to clean the station, get the ice cream ready for service, and get the lunch menu ready that was just coming out.

Needless to say, you didn’t really listen to her orders, instead focusing on the four cheesecakes you needed to bake, twenty lusty turkeys, and the rest of your workload that’s coming in. You’d maybe gotten halfway done with the orders when suddenly your stomach muscles tightened and spasmed at the same time. It hurt to breathe in, so you tried to breathe in as slowly as possible, praying to God that the next person who insulted you would take it back as soon as they said it.

Now, you’re screwed, because between the pain in your stomach and the pressure from the customers, it was overwhelming. To make matters even worse, your restaurant owner Jiah, a certified misogynist, stood next to you as you prepared each of the dishes. Every mistake you made, or anything you said to Hetty, was being monitored. At first, it was fine—still stressful, but you were so preoccupied that you didn’t care. Until you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground.

Every time someone shouted at you, it felt like someone was digging into your sides. Your vision blurred slightly as you bent down to clean up the mess. As you rose, you saw Jiah’s disapproving glare. You braced yourself, knowing a reprimand was imminent.

“Do you even know how much those cheesecakes cost?” Jiah hissed, his face reddening.

"Sorry-"

You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

The cramps were relentless, and you clutched your stomach briefly, willing the pain to subside. A few of your colleagues noticed and offered sympathetic looks, but they were just as swamped as you were. It was clear that everyone was feeling the strain of the lunchtime rush.

You managed to get the cheesecakes into the oven and started on the turkeys. The repetitive motions of seasoning and prepping gave you a momentary distraction from the pain. But it wasn’t long before Hetty was back, barking orders again.

“You still haven’t cleaned the station! And where’s the ice cream?” she demanded.

“Working on it,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. But the frustration was building, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them back, determined not to let anyone see you break down.

Finally, a small reprieve: the cheesecakes were done, and you could focus on plating the desserts and getting them out to the customers. But just as you thought you might be able to catch your breath, Jiah appeared again. He didn’t say anything, but his disapproving glare spoke volumes.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. When you accidentally spilled three of your cheesecakes on the ground, Jiah’s look was withering. He didn’t need to say a word; his expression made it clear he was counting this as yet another mark against you.

“Get it together,” you heard him mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. You nodded, biting your tongue to keep from snapping back. Losing your temper wouldn’t help anything, especially not with Jiah watching your every move.

Taking a deep breath, you focused on the tasks at hand, prioritizing the most urgent ones. Hetty’s voice cut through the noise of the kitchen, but you tuned her out as best you could. There was no time to waste arguing with her or explaining why you couldn’t drop everything to clean the station right this second.

Just as it began to calm down again, Jiah's glare disappearing from notion, Hetty came over to apologize for being stressy.

"Sorry for earlier," she said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "I know I was a bit much."

You accepted her apology with a nod. "It's okay. We were all under a lot of pressure. I was just about to go to the toilet."

Before you could make your way to the restroom, a call came through the kitchen, telling everyone to gather in the staff room. You tried to hold yourself together, though you could feel tears threatening to flow. The cramps were still gnawing at your insides, and the stress of the day had worn you thin.

As you and the rest of the staff assembled in the cramped room, the air was thick with apprehension. Jamie, another manager, stormed in, his face a mask of fury. He didn't waste a second before launching into a tirade.

"I just got a bollocking from the owner! What the hell happened here?" he bellowed. "This is so embarrassing! We've had multiple complaints from customers, dishes sent back, and unacceptable delays. This is not the standard we uphold here!"

His words were like blows, each one landing heavily. You stood there, silent and still, trying to absorb it all without breaking down. The cramps were relentless, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the pain.

For about forty minutes, Jamie continued his verbal assault, highlighting every mistake and misstep. You could feel the tension in the room, everyone too afraid to speak or move. As he yelled, you just stood there, taking it in, feeling smaller and more defeated with every passing second.

"This has to stop now," Jamie continued, his voice growing louder. "I expect better from all of you. No more excuses. The owner is furious, and honestly, I can't blame him. Today was a disaster!"

With that, he stormed out, leaving the staff in stunned silence. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you fought to keep them at bay. The pain in your stomach and the weight of Jamie's words were almost too much to bear.

Hetty gave you a sympathetic look but didn't say anything. Everyone slowly dispersed, heading back to their stations or taking a moment to collect themselves. You made a beeline for the restroom, finally letting the tears flow once you were safely behind the closed door.

Just as you began to take a couple of minutes to calm down, Jamie pulled you over.

"Hey, I need to ask you something," he said, his tone softer but still urgent. "Are you willing to leave early today?"

You had already had to cut a shift recently, and your hours were pretty low. "I really need the hours, Jamie. I'd prefer to stay."

He frowned. "I need to get rid of some staff because there's too many on right now."

You tried to politely refuse again, but before you could finish, he called out, "Hayley! Do you want to leave early?"

"Sure," Hayley replied without hesitation.

"See, it's not personal," Jamie said, turning back to you. Feeling completely deflated, you turned to get your stuff and clock out.

As you gathered your things, Jamie turned to you one more time. "By the way, you sat down too much today."

You were gobsmacked. "I didn't sit down at all."

"No, you were," he insisted. "And that's not acceptable."

You went to protest again, but he cut you off. "No, you were, and that's not acceptable."

Feeling a mix of frustration, exhaustion, and defeat, you bit back any further response. As you clocked out and walked out of the restaurant, you felt the tears begin to well up again.

By the time you got on the bus, the tears were streaming down your face. You found a seat at the back, hoping no one would notice as you buried your face in your hands and sobbed. The day's events replayed in your mind: the stress, the pain, the unfairness of it all. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on you, and you couldn't hold it in any longer.

As the bus moved through the city streets, you cried, letting out all the frustration and sorrow. You knew you had to face another day tomorrow, but for now, all you could do was let yourself feel the pain and hope that somehow, things would get better.

When you arrived home, you tried to wipe away your tears, determined to put on a brave face for Jude Bellingham, who had just returned from football camp. You were emotionally drained but wanted to be supportive and positive for him.

As you walked through the door, Jude was in the kitchen, looking relaxed and cheerful. He noticed your subdued demeanor but decided to wait before saying anything.

"Hey, how was work?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"It was... busy," you replied, forcing a smile. "But let’s not focus on that. How was camp?"

Jude’s face lit up as he started recounting his experiences. "Camp was fantastic! We had some intense training sessions and a lot of fun. You won’t believe the prank Trent and I pulled on the new guys. We got them to believe they had to complete this ridiculous obstacle course to join the team."

He continued with animated enthusiasm, "And then there was the friendly match against a local team. Trent and I were trying out these new moves, and it was amazing to see the crowd’s reaction. We felt like rock stars!"

You nodded and smiled at the right moments, trying to engage with his excitement, but your mind kept drifting back to the stress of the day. Despite your efforts to seem interested, you felt a growing sense of overwhelm.

Jude’s stories flowed effortlessly. "Oh, and the camp mascot incident was hilarious. Trent and I ended up in the costume, and we had this impromptu dance-off with the kids. It was one of those moments where you just can’t stop laughing."

As he chatted, you found yourself struggling to keep up the façade. Your responses became more mechanical, and you occasionally glanced at the clock, feeling the weight of your exhausting day pressing down on you.

Jude seemed to sense something was off but kept going. "You know, I was telling Trent about how you and I used to go to that little café downtown. He said he’s been there before and loved it. We should go sometime."

You forced a laugh and nodded. "That sounds great."

As dinner preparation continued, you made an effort to stay present, but the stress from earlier was starting to take its toll. You kept insisting you were fine, even though you felt increasingly overwhelmed.

In the midst of this, you were preoccupied with trying to balance cooking and maintaining a cheerful demeanor. As you pulled a dish out of the oven, you accidentally brushed against the hot rack. The sudden sharp pain in your hand was like a jolt that broke through your emotional walls.

You cried out and rushed to the sink, holding your burned hand under the cold tap, your composure finally shattering. Tears streamed down your face as the pain seemed to trigger a flood of emotions from the stressful day.

Jude, who had been in the living room, heard your cry and the sound of your sobbing. He rushed into the kitchen and saw you with your hand under the tap, tears flowing freely.

"Hey, what happened?" Jude asked urgently, moving quickly to your side.

"I—I burned myself," you managed to say through sobs. "I’m so sorry... I tried to keep it together, but I couldn’t."

Jude gently took your hand from under the tap and inspected the burn. His concern deepened as he carefully wrapped your hand in a clean towel.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, m’love. It’s okay—speak to me,” Jude said, his voice filled with concern as he moved to your side.

“What do you mean? I’m okay, I just burned myself,” you tried to explain, though your voice was trembling.

“Y/N, do you think I was born yesterday? I know my girlfriend, and I know when she’s upset. What happened?” Jude asked, his tone gentle but firm.

His insistence broke through your remaining resolve. You burst into tears, the emotional strain of the day combining with the pain of the burn. “I—I had such a terrible day. Jamie was so harsh, and everything seemed to go wrong. I was trying so hard to keep it together, but I just couldn’t anymore.”

Jude’s expression softened, filled with empathy and concern. “No, don’t say that. You’re not stupid. You’re my Y/N. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve handled it with so much strength and grace.”

He gently took your hand from under the tap and wrapped it in a clean towel. Pulling you into a comforting embrace, he continued, “Your a trooper you know.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace providing a much-needed sense of security. Jude held you close, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness. He stroked your hair softly and whispered in your ear, “You’re amazing, you know that? You’re allowed to have bad days and to feel overwhelmed. I’m here to help you through it, no matter what.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely as he continued to hold you. Jude’s soothing presence and gentle touch helped ease the burden of the day. He spoke softly, his voice full of love and reassurance. “You’ve been so strong, but it’s okay to let go and lean on me. I’m here to support you, to lift you up when you need it.”

Jude carefully wrapped your burned hand in a clean towel, his touch gentle but deliberate. He then pulled you into a comforting embrace. “Why don’t you head to the living room and take a breather? I’ll sort out dinner. And try not to make any more of the place look like a disaster zone, yeah?”

You managed a weak smile as you headed to the living room, still sniffling. The sounds of Jude bustling around in the kitchen—pots clattering, the hum of the stove—provided a bit of distraction as you settled onto the couch.

A few minutes later, Jude walked into the living room with his phone in hand and plopped down beside you. He placed his phone on the coffee table and began gently wiping away the tears from your cheeks.

“I don’t want anyone treating you like that,” Jude said firmly, but with a soft edge. “I’ve had a word with the higher-ups about Jamie. It’s not on.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You did? How’d you manage that?”

Jude grinned. “Let’s just say I’m good at sorting things out when it comes to my people."

You chuckled despite yourself. “Well, thanks. I didn’t think you’d go this far.”

Jude gave a cheeky wink. “I was gonna sort it anyway, oh, also, um well now seemed like the perfect time.”

"Jude-"

He pulled out his phone and showed you the screen. “I’ve had a chat with my agent. "

"What?!!"

"Got you a photography gig lined up. It’s something you’ve always wanted to do. Figured now’s as good a time as any.”

You were stunned, your eyes widening. “What-? How-When? How did you even know I wanted this now?”

Jude’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’ve been paying attention, love. You think i haven't notice your Pinterest boards? Or your amazon wish list?”

You laughed, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I don’t even know what to say. This is amazing.”

Jude squeezed your hand gently. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just remember, you’re brilliant, and you deserve all the good things. And if you ever leave me for a glamorous photographer life, just make sure to give me a shout-out in your interviews.”

You playfully nudged him. “Oh, so you’re worried I’ll become too famous for you?”

Jude grinned. "If that means sharing a bit of the limelight, so be it.”

You leaned into him, feeling a mix of relief and affection. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

Jude wrapped his arms around you. “I’m the lucky one. Seeing you happy is what matters to me. Now let’s enjoy the rest of the night. And if dinner turns into a burnt mess, at least we’ll have a laugh about it.”

Jude’s comforting presence and playful banter started to lift the weight of the day, bringing a renewed sense of hope and connection. His support and Brummie humor made the evening feel a lot brighter and more manageable.

[reticent-writer]

Hey! Well, actually, I really like the set of stories about Teen!Reader and Alostor where the reader is classified as an assistant, I would like a story that shows how they met and how they get to the point where they consider him an assistant and their confidence to say him dad? Thank you, I'm sorry if the request was very long. (Writing this I remembered the fight Alastor and Lucifer had over Charlie about who she calls Dad, I felt it would still be a good scenario for indignation)

An: I had a storyboard for this exact thing but its messy and if you don't know me you probably wouldn't understand how my mind works but basically i have ocs for this

This took a bit longer because it happens before Alastor and reader dies plus I gave reader a family so...... some basic info

Y/n was born into a family that was picture perfect on the outside

father was a factory worker Mother was a dressmaker

Doll House by Melanie Martinez fits them perfectly

Y/n was the middle child of 5

When Y/n was born the eldest (Atticus boy) was 10, Second eldest 6 (Alma girl), Middle child (y/n)

when y/n turned 4 their parents had twins (Giles boy, Gideon boy)

This is a glimpse into my mind. It might not make sense.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

-1920-

Y/n is 10.

Your parents were perfectionists, especially when it came to the public eye. The L/n family was always the center of attention in your little town, deep in Louisiana.

You and your siblings were constantly dressed in Sunday's best.

"Kids make yourselves look presentable. A client is coming soon." Your mother called out from her 'workspace'. kids aren't allowed in there.

"Can't we just stay in our rooms." Atticus complained from his spot on the couch.

"Get. Dressed."

Atticus groaned as he got up to go to his room. On his way, he knocked on your door before opening it.

"You're supposed to wait for a response, Jackass."

"Next time you curse at me I'm poppin' you." He threatened but you knew he wouldn't do anything, "Mom said get dressed, tell Alma."

He closed the door before you could complain. You heard the shuffling of his feet as he ran to his room.

His room was at the end of the hall. the hall was short with 2 doors on each side. Alma was across from you and the twins were next to her.

Right across from your room is Alma's. She's going into her preteen years and started to spend more time in her room. Your mother says she's adjusting to becoming a woman and needs her time alone. She's also becoming very snappy.

You slowly opened your door to stare at hers. You slowly walk into the hallway and up to her door. You knock three time and wait for a responce. She didn't open the door.

"I heard Atticus." Her voice was horse and strained but you believed what your mother told you.

That was all you needed to get yourself ready.

-------

Your mother made all (except for Alma) of you sit in the living room and wait for the client.

*knock knock knock*

"He's here. You better behave." She says before opening the door with a smile only guests see, "Alastor, It's so good to see you again."

"Good to see you to, my dear and my my look at the children. They all seem to be in good health." He greeted all of you with a smile.

"Hello sir." Atticus spoke for all of you.

"You seem to be missing one." Alastor commented, making your mother chuckle.

"She's been feeling under the weather as of late, come along I need to take your measurements. Atticus, Y/n prepare some tea." She ordered.

Alastor and your mother went to her workspace and she shut the door.

----------

That night went smoothly until your father got home. He didn't like the fact that your mother was in her workspace with a man and the door closed, even if he was a client.

It caused fighting -well more than there normally is anyway- between your mother and father. It's always been easy to make your father mad.

It got worse when Alastor took notice of it he came by more often with the excuse of having gifts for you and your siblings.

He gave you a radio to listen to him when he went on air. Atticus was offered a job at the radio station. Alma got a set of jewelry.

This angered your father more and instead of taking it out on Alastor or your mother he took it out on you and your siblings. Atticus tried to protect all of you.

One day your father and Atticus got into a really bad fight and your brother was shot. He didn't make it.

It was around the same time when a horrid smell started coming from Alma's room. Your parents said she caught a fever and no one noticed but you didn't believe them anymore.

From then on you started distancing yourself from your family and growing closer to Alastor.

--------

When you got older (16) you started working with alastor at the radio station. He taught you how to live life without worry.

He treats you like your a person and not just your parent's child.

Your parents treated you like a decoration. Alastor treated you like a child he didn't know he wanted.

You found out he was a murder by accident. You forgot someone at the station late at night and went back to get it to see blood spattered in the talking booth.

At first you thought it was Alastors so you took a gun that the station had in case of emergencies and followed the trail.

Opening the back door you saw Alastor dragging the body. The two of you made eye contact. Your body moved without hesitation and helped him hide the body.

------

Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

This is long and not what I usually write but it's been stuck in my head for a while.

A/n: I've decided to cut the twins and make y/n the youngest. I had something for them originally but it's better for just Alma, Atticus and Y/n

Art by @ghostly-one

[jhkfan123]

million dollar man | coriolanus snow

"you're screwed up and brilliant.."

pairing: academy! snow x fem!academy student

in which: you just couldn't seem to win with him. every 100% you got, he got a 101%. with graduation approaching, you knew you had to get valedictorian somehow. he was making it too difficult.

warnings: slight angst, academic pressure, slight non-con kiss

wc: 1.7k

a/n: i genuinely struggled to write a happy ending but it's finally here

the professor handed you back your test, faced down. she always did, with every other student too, but there was something about receiving it face down that always made you nervous. at least you weren't like some of the others, who constantly left class with their head hung low.

you turned your paper over. 98%. it wasn't good enough. not to your standards, anyway. and it especially wasn't good enough for coriolanus snow, who now was glancing at you from across the classroom, a smug smile on his face. you weren't ever going to hear the end of this, just like every other time he had scored higher than you.

this had to stop. graduation was approaching at a rapid pace, and valedictorian was the role you had aimed for your entire life. both your parents had achieved it, your older brother had too. which meant you pretty much had to. and the boy now looking over at you made it increasingly hard for you to achieve this goal. and worse, he didn't even know how bad you needed it.

you assumed he had gotten a perfect 100. it was the only reason he would already be smiling. it meant there was no way you could beat him. not this time.

you heard your professor dismiss you and for once, you became one of the kids who walked out of class with their head low. you had recently realized how close the valedictorian decision was. this 98% would set you back farther than it should. making your way out, you saw snow approach you out of your periphery. you picked up your pace, hoping he would just back off today.

it didn't work. when you left the crowded sea of people exiting the class, and found yourself closer to your locker, he caught up to you.

"hey 83." 83. it was the lowest you had scored at the academy, and he never let it go. it was aggravating.

"coriolanus, please, i can't do this today" you sighed and finished opening your locker. you put your book away in the small cube and grabbed everything else you needed for your afternoon classes.

"can't what? admit i did better than you on this one?" he showed his paper to you, a big red 100% circled in the top right corner. you rolled your eyes at him and slammed your locker door.

"whatever you want to tell yourself." you groaned and made your way to the lunch line. you noticed his demeanor change. he hated when you weren't up for his competition. it was his favorite part of the day, that's what you determined anyway. he realllllyyy seemed to get a kick of out it. he followed behind you swiftly.

"wait wait wait. what'd you score?" he asked. you thought about wether or not you wanted to tell him. if you didn't he would keep vexing you the rest of the day. if you did, you would have to sit through a couple minutes of verbal torment. you truly couldn't decide what the better option was.

"98." you said, very quietly. just because he wanted to know didn't mean the whole school had to know. you saw a smirk appear on his face.

"sorry what was that?" the look on his face made it crystal clear he had already heard you, he was just provoking you.

"i got a 98, coryo. now please, go find someone else to torment." you urged him away, but he got in the lunch line directly behind you. you sighed again.

"98." he repeated to himself, feeling the success roll of his tongue. "two away from perfect." that's what it seems to be. you were always two away from perfect. there was always something wrong, always something to be improved. you weren't sure if that was your family talking, or the perfectionist inside you. nevertheless, he had suddenly made you more aware of the faults in your recent test. it was maddening.

"look i have a meeting with professor click." you faced him now, which startled him slightly. " and i need to talk to you. i'll swing by you later." you grabbed your lunch tray and headed off.

afterschool, you rushed over coriolanus's dorm. every student had to do at least one semester living on campus for graduation, and most seniors chose the last semester, to live together and be together for the last time. so the walk from your dorm to his was not very extensive. you walked down your hallway, down the stairs, outside, up stairs, and approached his dorm. at least, you were pretty sure it was his. you had never actually been.

you knocked on his door. there was silence for a moment. then you heard a monotone "come in." you did as told and opened the door. you found coriolanus hunched over his desk, his hand fanned over his forehead. he was looking over numerous papers.

you knew the high grades the two of you had achieved came at a cost. multitasking this and a social life was not very possible. you had managed to somewhat pull it off, but it was very difficult to achieve. you had assumed every night was like this for him. study hard, and it pays off. but studying hard also means stress and pain. you looked like this most nights. in fact, it was a miracle you even had time to come visit him today.

"hey." he said, moving the papers off to the side. you never really had seen him like this. he was usually so cocky, such a showboat. but here he was stressed and real.

"hi. look, can we talk?"you stood in the doorway, until he gestured you in. you closed the door behind you. while awaiting his response, you looked around his dorm. there was an empty dorm bed parallel to his. he had attained a room with no roommate. there was a makeshift kitchen where the other desk was. there was a dresser below the window and very basic decorations all around. when you made you way back to coriolanus, he was nodding. "ok. i just want to let you know that i need this."

he seemed confused. "need what?"

"valedictorian. i don't know what kind of pressure you have on your back, but i assure you mine is worse." you began to ramble.

"seriously." he seems dissapointed that this had become the subject of the conversation. "why would i just give up valedictorian to you?" he shrugged his shoulders.

"i'll tell you. my entire family has been valedictorian for years." he rolled his eyes. "if i don't get valedictorian, my parent's would kill me."

he thought for a moment. "and why would i care about that?" he continued to counter your statements.

"because, coryo." you whined "you have the grades, you have everything and i need this because i have not worked my entire life for this to lose." you got more angry now. you didn't deserve to lose to him after spending your entire life studying.

"what makes you think that i have less pressure than you? have you ever considered that maybe the plinth prize is a factor in this?!" he raised his voice now. the statement seemed odd. the snow's were rich, disgustingly rich, right?

"look you may want that prize, but some people need it." you rebutted. you didn't need the prize for the money, but for the satisfaction. so that your parents could frame the certificate on your wall.

"i need it. trust me." he became stricter now. he looked at you with a dark gaze. in what world would a snow need the plinth prize?

"ok well," you thought for a moment. "if i don't get valedictiorian i will have done everything for nothing, and got nothing from everything; from all the hard work i've put in every single year of my life!" snow became more annoyed by the moment, but you couldn't stop rambling. "and i didn't have anything in my way until you decided that everything had to be a competition and you had to beat me, and now you have and i just want you to-"

"shut up." he walked over to you and shut your mouth with a breathtaking, rough kiss. it was completely unexpected, and you fell into a moment of shock. his kiss kept going and you weren't sure wether to shove him away, or let him do it.

usually you wouldn't even have to think and take the first option immediately, but for some reason you let it happen. and out of some world, you kissed him back.

maybe it was all those years of built up anger against him. maybe it was a stress release. maybe you just needed an escape.

but maybe it was something else. you decided that you felt comfortable here, his lips on yours. this complicated feeling of hating him and loving him at the same time. the second one was new. loving him. you didn't have an explanation.

maybe it was the years of arguments that had turned into banter he looked forward to every day. soon the dot's started to connect. you realized how many chances he took to talk to you.

your mother always taught you that boys had a funny way of showing things. a funny way of telling you things. and now it made sense. he had been doing this as a way to talk to you. as a way to get closer to you. you didn't need confirmation. the kiss was enough. you liked this. no. you loved this.

everything became more intense. he hadn't pulled away, and you hadn't either, so you kept going. you felt his hands around your waist as he pushed you against the front wall of the dorm.

you could have kept going all night with him. but you needed to hear him talk. you finally pulled away and took your first deep breath after around five minutes.

"what. the hell." you said through exasperated breaths. you spoke the words to him, but also to yourself. this was not how you expected the day to go.

"god." you heard him mumble under his breath.

"what?" you asked.

"i just hate that i waited so long to do that." his comment sent goosebumps through your body.

"i didn't even know i wanted that until now." you again, spoke to both yourself and him. he smiled at you. proud of his accomplishment.

this was a different type of success that you normally felt. this success in romance felt different than the academic success you had been working towards your whole life.

you liked this success.

[sxfterhearts]

convenience store comfort: a jongseob headcannon

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ non-idol!jongseob x angry + tired!y/n ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: just fluff, seob and y/n aren't together (yet), reader is angry (!!) and jongseob is there to comfort her + calm her down <3 mentions of alcohol and late night CU shenanigans

♡ word count: 1.8k words, all dotpoints, lowercase and no punctuation intended (+ weird formatting grrr)

♡ author's note: a lot of people requested for jongseob. idk whether its bc im perfectionistic but im not 100% happy with this, so i will defs do another one soon to do him and your requests justice (╥ ᴗ ╥)

♡ a song to listen to: just dont know it yet, new hope club

//

you and seobie were dance class partners since you were in kindergarten :))) omg imagine little seob and little you jamming to songs – so adorable

you had your regular weekly meetup with the dance crew to go over some new choreography and jam to some new songs recommended by your crew members

the moment you entered the dance studio and locked eyes with jongseob (who was doing his regular warmups on the floor) he could already tell something was up

your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, glasses resting crookedly on your head, sleeves rolled up unevenly - as though you just emerged from a hurricane

as you approached jongseob’s corner he lowkey panicked

he could see your eyebrows were scrunched up and your lips formed in an adorable pout - too adorable for him to keep a straight face, so he just muttered softly under his breath, “long day?”

you plopped down onto the floor next to him, immediately collapsing into a heap. you laid down with your head resting close to his lap, and arms and legs spread out, staring up at the ceiling. “couldn’t be worse,” you replied irritatedly.

the rest of practice went by in a blur - you could barely keep up with the moves - instead opting to linger at the back next to jongseob

you were trying to subtly copy his moves, but was promptly called out by your leader for slacking off and forgetting the moves from last week

by the time everyone vacated the studio, it was safe to say that you were pissed. and so done with life.

“should we go to CU?” jongseob asked, careful, as though he was walking on eggshells around you - unsure when you were about to explode.

��let’s go” you replied without even looking at him, snatching your bag off the ground and turning promptly on your heels, already making your way out of the studio.

“hey!! wait up, y/n!”

it became a tradition to grab snacks from the CU downstairs after difficult dance practices

it all started in high school, when jongseob was devastated after losing a dance comp and you tried to cheer him up by buying him every single flavour of gummy candies on offer 

(it didn’t really work, but when jongseob chewed on the pillowy soft bits of peachy goodness whilst staring at the funny faces you pulled to cheer him up, he could feel his tired heart begin to warm up)

“what do you- oh.” he was about to ask what you wanted, because it was his treat (by tradition: the person who is in charge of cheering the other up would pay), but the words caught in his throat when he followed you around the CU, leading him straight to the alcohol section – it mustve been pretty bad if you were reaching for the sojus

“are you having some?” you asked, without turning your head. you inspected the variety of alcohol on offer, and quickly settled on two bottles of unflavoured soju when he squeaked an affirmative yes in reply.

you quickly trotted over to the pouch drinks section and picked up the peach ade flavour without much deliberation, knowing that itwas jongseob’s favourite flavour, and two packs of peach gummy candies on the way to the counter (jongseob blushed because you remembered..)

he whipped out his card, paid for the drinks and snacks, and followed you like a little duckling to the bar seats by the windows

safe to say, after downing one whole bottle of soju (with barely any peach ade), you were a blubbering mess

“that.. that stupid, stupid, argh!!!” you munched furiously on the gummies, biting off their little heads first before chomping on their little bodies (jongseob almost felt bad for them) “why is he so incompetent?!”

you were referring to the new guy you were training at your workplace. initially jongseob was unsure how to feel about your newest colleague, especially after harbouring a silent, unrequited crush on you for the longest time. but his worries were quickly squashed after hearing you drunkenly curse out this guy’s name, followed by a string of… colourful words

“is it not common sense to… turn.. turn off the steamer after steaming the milk?? or to wipe spills, when you knock over,” you paused to hiccup, “a cup?” another hiccup

an adorable quirk of yours was that you started to hiccup if you drank or ate anything too quickly. jongseob handed you an opened bottle of green tea to slow down your drinking.

“i.. i mean! cmon! he’s so dumb!” you continued your little monologue, arms gesturing wildly - to the point that jongseob had to hold your hands steady and lead the bottle up to your mouth to make sure you were drinking something that was non-alcoholic.

“drink slowly,” he reminded you in an even tone. he kept trying to maintain a neutral expression but he had to admit that you were kinda funny in this drunken state, cute and frustrated

you hummed, listening to him as you stared at him with big eyes, gulping slowly. his adam apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed himself, feeling somewhat self-conscious now that your attention was completely on him

“why are you like this?” you asked after a few sips, suddenly looking like you were sober again

“like… like what?” jongseob asked nervously, like a deer caught in headlights - scared that he did something wrong.

“like this…” your pointer finger came up to poke his chest, and he felt his heart pound under your touch. 

jongseob just stared at you, confused

“just.. just like, you always… you take care of me so good…” you mumbled, finding the prints on his big oversized t-shirt very fascinating all of a sudden

now it was jongseob’s turn to widen his eyes - was this just the alcohol talking? he forced out a nervous laugh. “yeah, you’re always getting in trouble, so i always have to be there for you”

“yeah but, why?”

“cos…” jongseob looked away. between your finger on his chest and your gaze on his face, he couldn’t possibly look at you anymore without blurting out something he might regret. “cos.. youre you, and i’m me, and i’ve known you forever, and we always look out for each other” he began to nervously toy with lid of the soju bottle, unknowingly shaping the metal bit into a heart… “plus im not doing anything, you’re just letting out some steam”

“i get…” another hiccup “i mean i get that.. b-but like…” you paused, raising your open palm in front of his face to steal his attention. “like…”

he understood what you meant immediately and wordlessly poured a few peach gummies into your hands, his own larger ones coming to hold yours tenderly while doing so scream!!

you chewed slowly while in deep thought “like..”

“finish chewing first, y/n..” jongseob reminded, half-teasingly and half-seriously, worried that you might choke

“like! like… ah…” you sighed exasperatedly, taking a big gulp of green tea. you looked like you were solving a math problem in your head, which was concerning, because jongseob knew how much you hated math

“what are you trying to say exactly?” he couldnt help but to laugh at you. there were only a handful of times where he’s seen you get this drunk and every single time it ended up like this - you trying to have a coherent conversation with jongseob and him just playing along with your drunk antics

“seriously? i have no clue.” you said, defeated. with a big exhale, you extended your arms on the table and rested your head on top of it, facing him. you pointed at him again, as he watched you intently. “jongseob.”

“hmm?”

“it’s a disaster”

“what is? your day? i know that already - you just spent the past hour explaining that to me”

“no, well, y-yes, but no…” you trailed off, fingers wiggling accusatively at him while you scrunched up your nose. adorable, he thought. “it’s a disaster.” another hiccup

“why??? y/n, maybe it’s time we get you home…”

“no seobie, dont want to.” you shook your head and body violently in response. “want to stay here with you!”

jongseob felt his entire body tingle with warmth and slight embarrassment, because no way you meant it like that… no way, this is unrequited love after all, right? 

“seobie…” you looked at him, eyes filled with emotions jongseob can’t really figure out. was it a pleading expression? or were you asking for something? he wasnt sure - but one things for sure - he would give you anything you wanted

“...yeah?”

“can you… can we just stay here for a bit? im tired…” you reached out for him with grabby hands, and he complied easily - after all, he would give you the world

your hands gripped tightly to jongseobs, as you started another round of monologues, “you know, sometimes… sometimes i think i just need someone to listen to me. you do that really well. and its like when i tell you about what bothers me, the worries… they just…”

“...disappear?” he finished for you, squeezing your hand in response. he couldnt help it - his neutral facade broke. at the start of the night, he was a little scared and unsure of what to expect. you were hard to read when you were emotional. but now, sitting here next to you in the 24hr convenience store, one bottle of soju and two packets of peach gummies deep into the night, he felt the corner of his lips turn upwards. after all, he would always go along with whatever you wanted

“yeah.” you smiled at him, eyes blinking slowly, as though you were about to fall asleep. after a while, you felt the fatigue seep into your bones and overtake your entire body, and succumbed to its temptations. 

you shifted in your seat to get comfortable and snuggled into jongseob’s arms like a body pillow, pulling him closer and closer to you. it was a slightly awkward position for jongseob, and he could feel the pins and needles starting to prickle on his limbs, but then, after a moment of silence, you muttered something under your breath.

“what is it? do you need something? is it uncomfortable?”

you giggled, his response so characteristic of him. he was always doting on you, always making sure you were alright, always ready at your beck and call. it gave you more confidence to repeat your words: “jongseob, i think im in love with you”

the poor boy nearly choked on air - but held it in so as to not compromise your position. “you… you what? what?”

“i love you, jongseob.” you said, cracking one eyelid open. just to prove your point, you brought his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand, and then with the accuracy of a tipsy person, you pushed his hand towards his lips.

“there. we kissed, indirectly.” you said, satisfied with yourself, bursting into another round of giggles. 

jongseob, ohmygosh, he didnt know what to do. his brain shortcircuited and he just sat there, letting you laugh at him while the tips of his ears turned bright red

[fcwoso]

Morning motivation · Alexia Putellas

Summary: alexia needed motivation to conquer the day, reader makes a poor attempt and somehow succeeds (fluffy)

MASTERLIST

Alexia was a major perfectionist. Everything had to go well from the beginning of the match until the final whistle. It was impossible, though. Football was an unpredictable sport, but not for the Spanish midfielder. No, she had it under control, that's what she had convinced herself throughout the years as a professional. She felt this intense fear of failure, afraid of breaking the promise she made to herself years ago. She promised to be the best at what’s she’s doing in order to make her family, fans and loved ones proud. Somehow, it turned into an unhealthy mindset, pushing herself to the maximum each time she felt like she didn't do enough.

This mindset got worse when she came back from her ACL injury. Insecurity kicked in once she started to play along her teammates who she currently almost considered as competition. The two Ballon d’Or awards didn’t do enough convincing, even though she saw them every morning right after she woke up. She needed more. She needed reassurance and she found it in you.

‘’Ale, you really need to get up. Training is about to start.’’ You two were currently laying in your bed, Alexia’s alarm had woken up the both of you. She had a match at noon, but Jonatan decided to plan in an early training, just to make sure everyone’s ready and in good form. You heard a small groan leave your lover’s mouth and immediately knew she was having one of those days. A strong arm was resting on your waist, pulling you closer. She wished she could just forget her obligations and continue the nice sleep she was having, but she couldn't. The whole team was counting on her, the captain had to put her own wishes aside in order to fulfill theirs.

You squeezed Alexia’s tense shoulder before stroking her warm cheek, pushing away the streaks of hair that were covering her tired face. You saw an adorable pout forming on the blonde and couldn’t help but chuckle at her childlike antics. ‘’Are you seriously laughing at me?’’ She mumbled and finally opened her eyes, face partly disappearing in her pillow. You shook your head before leaning in to press a few gentle kisses on her forehead, making the small frown disappear and decided to keep this closeness.

‘’Of course not, I could never do that.’’ Was the reply that left your mouth, it was an honest one. You could never laugh at Alexia’s misery, as she would call it because that’s how she experienced this chaos. A training bag was laying in the corner of the room, untouched by the woman who’s legs were still entangled with yours under the cozy, warm covers.

You quickly pressed a kiss to her nose to prevent her eyes from closing because you knew how fast she could fall asleep again. ‘’Can we switch for today, bebita (baby)?’’ Alexia began. ‘’I get to sleep in, and you can wear my jersey. You know how much I love it when you do.’’ The distance between you got smaller, non-existent, as she rested her head on your chest and listened to the sound of your heartbeat. You played with her hair and stayed silent, thinking of some encouraging words.

‘’You’re Alexia Putellas.’’ Was the first thing that left your mouth. You heard a small laugh, feeling Alexia’s grip on you loosening a bit as she rested her chin on your chest. Her hazel eyes staring into your serious ones, not completely understanding the context behind the words you just spit out. ‘’That’s me.’’ She nodded. ‘’And?’’ Was the next thing she asked, trying to hide her smile. She got curious, the stern expression on your face not giving away a hint of what you were thinking of.

You shifted your hands from her shoulders to her cheeks and held them firmly while leaving patterns with your thumbs. ‘’That’s it. That’s literally it.’’ You whispered, but suddenly heard a loud laugh leaving the blonde’s mouth. ‘’Wait, this is your poor attempt to motivate me?’’ Alexia couldn’t help but be amused by your words, she knew you were being serious by the look of your face. You nodded and stared lovingly at her, happy you got to see her smile this morning. ‘’You have nothing to worry about.’’ You replied, placing a tender kiss on her lips, hoping to emphasize the message you were trying to convey.

Alexia nodded and thanked you quietly, a small sigh escaping her mouth as she rolled out of bed. She pulled the covers over your form and made her way to the bathroom. ‘’You know, you can still wear my jersey.’’ She winked before completely disappearing from your view, pointing to the part of the closet that was dedicated to her jerseys. That’s what you were planning on doing, but leading the team? No, that was La Reina’s job.

[stariikis]

colour your smile

synopsis ; when riki picks up a paintbrush, two problems surface. for him, it's fear of being unable to portray you perfectly. for you, you have no idea how to counter this fear of his. this fear that is a constant state of unrest in his mind.

pairing ; artist!nishimura riki x muse!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 1097 warnings ; kissing and implied mental disorders

It’s pretty difficult for Riki to encapsulate all your beauty into a painting. 

He’s tried, time and time again. Sat you down in his allocated ‘art studio’ room, a tiny part of the house where the grey walls are splotched rainbow. Watercolour palettes lie uncovered all over the room, one sitting just beside your boyfriend on the wooden bench he’s parked himself on. 

In front of him is a blank canvas – tainted only by the strokes of graphite that sketch the outlines of your features. Wispy hair that partially covers your eyes, your button nose quickly drawn into a nub, and your smile accurately depicted, eager and wide. Riki captures the very essence of who you are, with little effort at all. 

It doesn’t look difficult to you, because he makes it look effortless. Like with one snap of his fingers, he can churn out another portrait of you. But it really seems like he does. To Riki, however, it’s not so easy. He tilts and turns his head, muttering dissatisfied remarks to himself. More often than not, he spends more than an hour sketching you and touching up ‘mistakes’. ‘Mistakes’ that you never even saw. ‘Mistakes’ that look like nothing in your eyes, but make all the difference to your perfectionist of a boyfriend. 

“You know what?” You murmur, slightly tired of having to endure another few hours of him scrutinising your portrait. “Why don’t you just try to paint freely? Without thinking about the quality. Keep your focus on me, paint as if you have nothing to hold you back.” 

Riki finally draws his eyes away from the surface of his canvas. He meets your gaze, looking remorseful as he does so. “I wish I could. But then I’d see all the errors and feel guilty. Wouldn’t you?” 

You slide closer to him from the opposite side of the wooden bench. You gently tug the paintbrush from his fingers, placing it beside the watercolour set that looks horrifyingly dry and crackled. “Are you scared?” 

Deep emotions. You take his hands in your own.

You feel them surging deep inside his veins, the whimsical vibrancy of colour flowing along the current. His imagination is running wild but he’s restricting it himself. Out of fear he’s going to mess up. Afraid it’s going to turn out worse than expected. When he looks away, running a hand through his hair and nodding, you’re hardly surprised. 

“Relax.” 

You whisper into the silence. 

“It’s going to be fine.” 

His fingers start to tremble. 

“Your beauty is too complex to be depicted in a simple painting,” he finally speaks, inhaling deeply from his own confession. “Everything looks grey — it looks so plain and so boring, and your smile there – so not you. I have to make this you, I have to do you and your beautiful smile justice.” 

“One hue off the right colour of your hair already scares me to my depths. Everything is so colourless and bare and empty I can’t even tell these strokes apart.” He runs his fingers along the bumps on the wall, forest green fading into baby blue and a harsh strike of vermillion. “I don’t remember how these came about but I remember they’re strokes of frustration.”

“Frustration?” You urge him, patiently. He’s still distracted, rambling and refusing to meet your eyes. But he’s an artist, and you’ve already resigned to putting up with episodes like these for a while now. At the same time, you understand. In your own way, you are an artist too. The only difference between you and Riki is,

you’re bold and daring. You see all the shades the rainbow has to offer. You complete your pieces without a second thought. Of course, they’re never top quality, but they’re satisfactory to yourself. 

Riki is hesitant. He sees in black and white, occasionally shades of grey bleeding into borderline brown. He feels it’s his duty to reflect and duplicate everything about his object perfectly. Like looking into a mirror, it should properly align with reality. It should elicit appropriate emotion. It should reflect all his object’s best qualities. He should be able to make them shine. 

And when he doesn’t, he lashes out. 

“What if?” He scrunches the apron hanging over his thighs. Lost in thought, you wonder whether he’s coming back down to earth or if his head is still in the clouds. Worrying and worrying and worrying. “What if I can’t do it again?” 

“You need to free yourself…” 

Ironically, you know what he needs the most to free himself, is a long, warm embrace that calms his mind. Bring him back down. Teach him to breathe again. You lean back to snatch the paintbrush and palette, holding it in front of him. His gaze clears and begins to transfix onto the materials in your hand. “This is what you came to do. Is it not?” 

He takes it with a shaky hand and blank stare. 

“I think it looks pretty,” you kiss his cheek quickly and slide back into position. “That’s your intention. I know. I look pretty there.” 

Your heart aches for him. Will he ever shake off his overbearing perfectionism and learn to enjoy the talents and skills he’s been blessed with? 

With adoring eyes, he turns back to the canvas and thankfully begins working on it. You hope the profound sparkle in his eye has signalled a change. Everything falls into routine, and you’re stuck breathing in the same scent of must and dried paint for the next few hours. 

Luckily for you, Riki seems to have let the weight evaporate from his shoulders. He can finally take smiley glances your way to compare his portrait and you. He can lean back with a pleased and impressed glimmer in his orbs. Every once in a while, he gives you and kiss and thanks you for staying so still and remaining so patient. 

You know his words carry more intent than he wants to let show. 

“You like it?”

Three hours later, he finally spins the portrait around and lets you have the first look as the muse. Though many portraits of your face have lined his walls since you started dating, you’re pleasantly surprised to feel something different. Though the paintings may all look similar. Same face. Same eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, hair, moles in the same spots. There’s a hint of confidence emanating from the mish-mash of colours. 

And Riki looks satisfied. 

“I can finally see the colours,” he rasps in excitement, cutely clapping his hands together. “I could finally colour your smile.”

i just got diagnosed with chronic migraines (i'm having one rn but it's because i'm not sleeping) so this is pretty self-indulgent. i am riki riki is me. ALSO. riki's aotm i'm shitting tears

more of my works >

[shytastemakerthing]

Hi!!! Could I request a Azul x reader where they are academic rivals? And the reader is a perfectionist? Thank you so much!! I love your writing so much😭😭 also It’s one of my first times requesting for something so I’m sorry if I didn’t give you enough informations!!

A/N: Thank you for this request! I absolutely love writing for Azul, our lovely octopus man XD, Enjoy!!

This man is also a perfectionist at heart and nothing will convince me otherwise. Between running the lounge, running a dorm, taking care of his schoolwork, and everything in-between, his hands are full and he needs to make sure that everything is in perfect running order should he need to be anywhere else at any given time

He also strives to be the absolute best in everything that he does with that businessman persona he has on at all times, this also means in his academics

So imagine the stunned expression (even if slight) that this man had when he realizes that you two are basically toe-to-toe, or toe-to-tentacle as the tweels love to refer to it as

Now he is obsessed with outscoring you and taking the top once again (sure, he was pretty toe-to-toe with Riddle, but Riddle wasn't you)

From observing your study patterns, your note taking habits as well as the notes that you take, the questions that you ask in class, to your overall ethic when it comes to your academics, the only thing he has determined so far is that you are as much of a perfectionist as he is

Which makes this that much harder, because you will be working just as hard as he does

If not even more

Because there is so much more for you to prove, as a student that came from a completely different world, basically having to start all over with your education in a number of subjects

In a way, he will commend you for that, it is no easy feat , and you seem to be taking it rather well

Anyone else most likely would have lost their minds and given up by now if they were in your place

Which is why he was as shocked as he was when he came out from the VIP lounge one night to see you in a far booth facing one of the fish tanks looking a bit more worse for wear, nursing a shake

He knew the signs and symptoms of stress and anxiety, he could sense it from a mile away, having gone through it himself quite often, as much as he hates to admit it

With the initial intention of possibly being able to offer you a deal (to also make his way back to the top), it seemed to falter the moment that he saw you wipe the tears from your eyes the moment that he had sat down

You had to do your absolute best, learning all of this new information, getting the best grades possible, because you literally had no other choice

You and Grim count as one student, and he knew how Grim was when it came to his academics, so all of the responsibility fell onto you, someone new to this world who knew nothing about it, with the constant threat of being placed homeless, having your food take away, loosing whatever you managed to get... what do you mean you can hardly even afford to eat???

Now he also knows what Crowley puts you through, because the crow knows that you literally have no other choice other than to comply. What would you do? It wasn't like you could just leave. And go where? Do what? You have literally nothing to your name, you are no one in this world

What started out as a way to surpass you soon turned into a mutually beneficial agreement.

And one day, he begins to hope that it turns into something much, much more

Have a wonderful day/night!!

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Missed me? Pt 3

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x Femme Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: stepcest/inappropriate relationships, cheating, kissing, flashback, past minor injury, angry/kinda violent thoughts

Info: honestly ur mom is rlly good at psychological warfare

You ran with Chewie in tow, your lungs on fire as you attempted to get home as quickly as possible. You skid to a stop on the pavement outside your house, the scene unfolding before you hitting you hard. Your mom, stomping out to her car and slamming the door shut. Throwing it in reverse and peeling out of the driveway without even glancing your way. You could physically feel the air blowing past you as she sped off out of the neighborhood.

You walked inside, terrified you’d find a mess. But to your surprise everything was in its place. You unclipped Chewie’s leash and let her roam about inside the house until she found a cool spot on the floor.

You could hear Anakin still working in the garage, he’d turned on some music to keep him company. Maybe you overreacted? She probably didn’t think anything of it right? It’s innocent enough. Anakin is notorious for leaving grease and oil stains in places they should never be. Like the time you painted your palm shoe-polish black just from opening the fridge.

It was nothing. Right? Anakin would be in here upset and waiting for you if something had happened, so everything must be fine. You thought back to your earlier conversation with your mom and recalled how annoyed she seemed about that coding mishap.

Relief spread through you, she was extremely anal about her work. A perfectionist through and through, maybe she’d received word the damage was worse than she originally thought. That would definitely warrant nascar level driving in her eyes.

Even so, you felt the need to placate her when she returned. After a shower and a clean set of comfy clothes you set about cleaning the main floor of the house thoroughly. Scrubbing each surface clean, vacuuming, mopping windex-ing the windows. You even cleared out the leftovers and expired items from the fridge. Going so far as to jot down the items that needed replacing.

Trotting over to the cork board mounted on the wall of the short hall leading to the laundry room and the garage door. This was where everything of importance lived, bills, grocery lists, to-do lists, even a family calendar. Something in red ink had been added to the calendar for tomorrow and you nearly stabbed yourself with a push pin when you read it.

‘Date Night 6:00 @Marzettis’

Written in the ridiculously neat and proper cursive that only could’ve belonged to your mother. If you measured the PSI of your bite force right now, you were one hundred percent sure it would be enough to bite off your mother’s writing hand. Your jaw was clenched so tightly that you heard your molars squeak in protest.

Jabbing the list into the cork with the pushpin you let out a breath that you’d been holding long enough to make you alittle lightheaded.

Calm down. They’re married. Married people go on dates. Anakin can’t really reject his own wife can he? No. No he can’t. It’s okay.

You shook out your anger, resolving yourself to ignore the fact that your stomach was churning with nerves and your tongue burned with unspoken venom. There was still things to do. And doing things is good. Scrubbing every centimeter of the bathroom shower with such aggression that you permanently bent the bristles of your favorite scrub brush was definitely a healthy alternative to committing a felony.

Hours passed and Anakin finally returned from the garage sending the current vehicle he was working on back to its owner a full day early. It’s amazing what alittle midmorning pussy pick-me-up can do for a man.

It also probably helped that your tiny arms shaved off at least an hours work of dismantling parts of the engine that were in his way of retrieving the piece he actually needed to extract. Though he’d milk his coincidental success as the result of your passionate rekindling for all that it’s worth. It couldn’t hurt to test out that theory a few times could it?

“Whoa.” He snorted, seeing you to his left scrubbing the inside of the washing machine. “What the hell are you doing?”

You lifted your head a bit too fast and wacked it on the lip of the washer, immediately wincing and bringing a hand to rub the top of your head.

“Apparently I’m doing my damndest to give myself a concussion.” You joked, glancing over at him in his sweaty, greasy clothes.

“There’s this guy who has disgusting laundry, that occasionally leaves residue in the washer.” You dramatically explained.

“So I’m doing him a favor and saving him from an accidental repeat of the fancy hand-towel stain incident of 2020.” You grinned and watched as Anakin mirrored your expression.

“Lucky man.” He chuckled, coming over to give you a quick peck on the lips before rushing off to shower.

Dinner rolled around and you decided to order in, the local Chinese restaurant had the best egg rolls around, and that was just what you needed. You texted your mother to ask for her order and jotted yours and Anakin’s down on a scrap of paper.

~be home alittle late. Just get some Udon for me.~ She responded quickly.

Easy enough. You called in the order and it was delivered and delicious in around 30 minutes. You spread out the feast on the kitchen counter and laughed at Anakin practically drooling over the crab rangoons he was shoveling into his mouth.

“So whens she gonna be home?” He asked, not even bothering to cover his mouth despite chewing like his life depended on it.

“She just said late.” You shrugged, late could mean anything. 10 minutes, an hour; it’s a ridiculous measure of time that you’d always had trouble accepting.

“Well.” He clicked his tongue as he popped open a cold beer from the fridge. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Oh actually, you know what he haven’t done in a while?” You grinned.

“Housewives?” He smirked.

“Yes sir. Take your pick.” You scooped up your take-out box and made a beeline for your favorite seat, the comfy and worn out recliner.

“I’m thinkin’ New Jersey.” He mused, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and searching for your guilty pleasure show.

There’s something comforting about watching someone else’s life like this. Honestly you found it… strangely calming to know that other people have more stressful lives than you. And of course it didn’t hurt that you really loved a bratty cat-fight. Scripted or not, it was undeniably as entertaining as a train wreck.

It would seem that your mother’s definition of ‘late’ was around 45 minutes, she walked in the door as chipper as ever. Doing wonders for your earlier worries; nothing seemed amiss to her.

She took in your comfortable nest of blankets in your recliner, Anakin’s lanky legs draped over the armrest of the couch with his head propped on a pillow. She was… assessing the scene and found no evidence of any foul deeds.

“It was a good idea for take out.” She said, tossing her items on the table. “I’ve missed these noodles.”

“Oh I know.” You agreed. “I saved an egg roll for you.”

“Thanks sweetie.” She said, flashing a blank stare and an empty smile over her shoulder that went unnoticed by the both of you.

“So Marzettis, is that alright for tomorrow?” She asked Anakin sitting on the couch near him with her food.

“That new Italian place?” He asked, his eyebrows pinched together. “That’s the one Obi took Satine to isn’t it?”

“Yeah it is,” she nodded, seemingly pleased he remembered. “They gushed about it so much I figured it was time we try it.”

“Alright, as long as there’s breadsticks I’m happy.” Anakin smiled.

Meanwhile you were boiling in your seat as you listened to their conversation. Just like in an old cartoon you swore the top of your head would screw itself off and rattle with white hot steam. Honestly, you wished it would. That might just be the only way to get rid of this pressure in your skull without *actually* combusting.

You suffered through their small talk and meaningless conversation about blah, blah and blah. Finally, the episode of Housewives ended and you made your quick egress to your room with a wave goodnight.

You lay awake in bed, planning your to-do list for the next day. You needed to keep yourself busy and entertained to avoid falling victim to the wallowing hole of self pity that is your mind’s way of ‘coping’ with your jealousy.

To-Do:

Wake up

Scream

Nap

Repeat

Perfect.

You woke up, unsure as to when you actually fell asleep; though arguably in a 73% better mood just from the simple fact that you could hear power tools being used in the garage. It was comforting. The noise used to bother you, irk you to the edge of insanity, because who in their right mind would wake up and use the loudest power tools known to man at 6:00am?

Anakin would.

Every time you woke up to the noise, it reminded you of your first kiss, what could be a better way to wake up? Except for maybe an actual kiss from him.

You had stomped from your room to the garage, having been woken up at 6:00am *on summer break* for the previous 4 days. You threw the door open and yelled for him, but he didn’t hear you. Between the loud grinding sound of metal on metal and the earbuds he had in, you had little choice but to pull something dramatic.

Spotting the extension cord you had unplugged it and relished in the momentary silence before hearing Anakin cursing and repeatedly flipping the switch. You stood and observed with a self-satisfied grin, crossing your arms and jutting out your hip as you waited for his small man brain to figure out what happened.

Karma wasn’t something you believed in until right then, because without even looking up he yanked on the extension cord and the hard plastic socket whipped your thigh leaving an almost immediate bruise.

“Fuck!” You yelled, clenching your fists and biting back a string of words so hellish you might’ve burst into flames if you screamed like you wanted to.

Anakin’s head shot up and he ripped out his earbuds, momentarily confused when he didn’t see the source of the very angry curse word. That was until you hissed as you poked at the tender bruise.

“Oh shit.” He mumbled, rounding the front end of the car to get to you. “Hey- hey sweetheart, what the hell are you doing down here? It’s awful early for you to be up.”

Oh that was it. That was not the thing to say to you right then. He could’ve called you a crybaby and you would’ve took it better than that innocent comment.

“Yeah? It’s awful early to be using whatever the fuck that thing is!” You grumbled, shaking his hand off your arm. “Do you seriously have to do that this early in the morning? Can’t you do something less… grating?!”

“Do you see any other vehicle here for me to work on?” He deadpanned.

“God you’re insufferable sometimes you know that?” You huffed, looking back down at your leg.

“Did you unplug that grinder I was using?” He asked accusingly.

“Yes I did.” You shot back. “It was getting on my fucking nerves Anakin.”

“Well shit- just let me-“ He sighed trying to pry your hands away from your thigh but you batted him away, swiping a droplet of blood across his wrist.

One of the sharp plastic corners had bit into your skin on impact and caused a teeny tiny nick. Though from the amount of blood trickling down your leg, one would automatically assume you had a proper slice of an injury.

“Baby c’mon just let me see? I’m sorry.” He said in a pained tone, you could tell he genuinely felt bad, even though this was mostly your fault.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me.” You had scoffed.

“Fine. My liege.” He grumbled sarcastically.

He approached with paper towels and crouched down to swat your hands away and dab gently at the wound, or rather, lack thereof. He attempted to hand you a paper towel to clean off your hand but you declined, anti-politely wiping off the blood onto his dirty work shirt.

“Are you serious right now?” He scowled.

“Are you almost done?” You countered, crossing your arms again.

“Yeah. It’s just a scratch. Turns out every inch of you is just as dramatic as your shit attitude.” He said, standing up, his height making you feel dwarfed.

“Yeah that’s what happens when-“ you started in an angry, belittling tone.

Though you were cut off and the world paused around you. You went stiff as he grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned down to kiss you. Before you even registered what was happening top-side, your body had already begun to relax in his arms. His big strong, work-worn hands pulling you into him while he slipped his tongue between your lips. Gliding lightly just behind your top row of teeth before you finally gave in and kissed him back.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you hummed know content when he released your waist to cradle your head with both hands, your own fisting his shirt as you kissed like your lives depended on it.

“Hey! You up?” Your mom knocked loudly on your door and broke the trance of the sweet memory. That 73%? Reduced to 32%.

“Yes.” You huffed and rolled out of bed, unlocking your door and letting her in.

“Great, I want to borrow a dress of yours is that okay?” She asked, heading to your closet before you could even respond.

No way. Absolutely no way. She was not wearing that.

“No. Pick something else.” You said sternly, taking the red summer dress and hanging it back up.

“What why?” She questioned.

“Because it has a hole in it.” You lied, “can’t have you going on your big date like that.”

“I didn’t see a hole.” She countered, going to grab it again.

“Trust me. There’s a hole.” And they’ll be another one: in the ground for her if she didn’t accept defeat on this.

“Fine.” She scoffed and drug out a few more options under your watchful eye.

“This one?” She asked.

“Yeah that one’s fine. It’ll look great.” You forced a smile and tracked her during her retreat down the hall.

As soon as she entered her room you slammed your own door shut and locked it again. You went straight to your closet and got the red dress, folding it and tucking it into the bottom of your sock drawer.

Was she intentionally trying to piss you off? No. She couldn’t have known. No one could’ve known other than you and Anakin. You had been so careful, going out of town for a date at the drive-in while your mom was away on a business trip. You’d worn that dress for Anakin and only Anakin, and you’d never worn it since that night, that first night.

In your state of confusion you didn’t notice the sound of Anakin’s garage noise die down.

Anakin had stopped for a coffee break and came inside, finding his wife at the kitchen counter. He gave her a quick smile and and poured some black coffee into a big thermos.

“Sugar? ‘Sugar’?” She asked sweetly, sliding the large sugar canister across the countertop to him.

“Uh, yeah.” He blinked slowly as if trying to rewind her words. “Yeah okay thanks.”

He shook his head and shrugged, raising his eyebrows in concentrated thought as he stirred the sugar into his coffee. The only person who has *ever* said that to him is you. That’s such a weird coincidence… what are the chances? It’s not like you call him ‘sugar’ any other time either. Only ever for the sake of making him smile when he fixes his coffee.

“Well. I’ll be out here then.” He said awkwardly, still very much miffed by the odd comment.

She ‘mhm’d’ in response, enjoying watching him slink back into the garage with his cheeks tinted in shame.

By the time 5:30 rolled around Anakin was in a nice button-up and dress pants, looking absolutely exquisite. That man really knew how to wear… anything, and nothing too. You had to ogle him from afar, watching his cute butt in those well-fit pants as he walked out the door following closely behind your mother. Who was wearing your dress.

You made a mental note to find an industrial shredder to take care of that ruined fabric when she returned it.

At Marzetti’s dinner was going well, much better than Anakin had expected to be honest. It was almost nice, in a weird way. The food was good, the atmosphere was pretty… he couldn’t help but be startled every now and again when he glanced over and didn’t see you across the table from him. You’d love this place, and damn he’d love to see you in it. He just knew the lighting would show off those sexy bedroom eyes you *swore* you never knew when you were making.

The biggest downside was that this place was alittle too expensive to be wasted on your mother. This kind of luxury should be reserved for his princess.

After an hour’s worth of awkward small talk and stupid conversational questions, Anakin got up to use the restroom.

When he returned he was shocked to say the least. The table had been cleared and all that remained was the check, and a thick manila envelope, he hesitantly picked it up and tucked it under his arm.

Fast walking to the front of the restaurant he quickly paid, despite the hostess’s request for him to return to his table because ‘payment is collected at your seat’. He fumbled with his car keys and clicked the lock button to quickly locate his black vintage Camaro… no dice.

He stood frozen in the middle of the parking lot, spinning slowly and spotting his parking spot… where the car *should* have been.

“That bitch took my fucking Camaro.” He whispered to himself, internally screaming at himself for being a responsible adult and having a spare set of keys safely stashed away.

He already had an idea of what was in that envelope, but now he didn’t even need to look at the title page. He just needed a goddamn pen.

Final Part

Tag-List:

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Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag lists

[kyokutsu-sama]

I am sooo glad your requests are back open omg, i missed seeing content from you 🥰. May I pleeease request the Bleach men coming to terms that their girlfriend, even tho is really good in fights, the rest of the time is insanely clumsy (yk, burn/cuts herself when cooking, trips, slips, falls, all that)? I'm most interested in Byakuya, Toshiro, Hisagi and Shinji (if it's not too much😅). Sorry for the long ask 😅💗

A/n : Hii!! It's okay 😊 It was an interesting idea and I enjoyed writing it. I hope you like it ❤️

Byakuya :

He initially admired you, all your strength during battle and all that self-confidence that inspired everyone around you. So far, everything was fine…but when he started noticing you do so much nonsense in a short space of time, he questioned several things. First it was when you fell in the hallway, then it was when you dropped the stack of papers on his desk and not to mention when you stuck your finger in the door when leaving his office. He closed his eyes and put his hand to his face, wondering what level of your clumsiness was. "How can she be two things at the same time?" He thought He doesn't directly confront you with that but will always keep an eye on you to see if you don't get hurt or ruin something doing a simple task. He is careful with you and even offers to help when he knows you can't do something or try to do it and it goes wrong.

Toshiro:

He is very perfectionist, whether fighting or signing a simple sheet of paper. He had a lot of expectations for you when you showed yourself serious on the battlefield, strong and with your head held high. The worst was when he met you on the other side… It was all downhill. There was a time when you went to get some papers from his office and before you even got close to the door you fell and dropped everything on the floor. He felt a wave of revolt inside him, because he had already put everything in order and now everything was a mess. It turns out that he started seeing you being clumsy a lot of times and this confused him because you initially used to be responsible and careful. He tries not to leave you aside in these tasks but he has no other alternative if you continue to be clumsy like this.

Hisagi :

Hisagi thinks highly of you, he admires you and sometimes seeks advice from you when something is not going well. However, like Byakuya, he never stops wondering how you manage to do so much nonsense in such a short time. First it was the fall on the stairs, then it was when you let the food burn or spilled the glass of water on the table. All sorts of things started to make him more attentive to you. He offered to help you so you wouldn't have to do everything alone and that way you would avoid being so clumsy, something you sometimes felt sorry for. He always comforted you and said everything was okay, accidents happen, don't they?

Shinji :

Although he always looks silly most of the time, he trusts in you and your strength. But he not only knows this strong side of you, but also your other clumsy and laughing side, which makes him admire you even more. I have the idea that if he had a really clumsy girlfriend it would be total chaos because I'm sure he could be worse than his partner. However, he doesn't stop laughing at your little accidents, especially if you fall in front of him, so get ready to hear his laughter. The kind of friend who laughs and only after stopping does he help lift you off the ground. He has a shred of mercy and kindness in his heart and that's why he will help you with things, even if he sometimes ends up doing worse. He will make fun of you a lot for this.

[st4rlvr]

Forced together || KSM

There was nothing more infuriating than Kim Seungmin’s voice.

It was the way he always had something to say, dripping with sarcasm, every word calculated to get under my skin. He didn’t even have to try hard. All it took was that little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, like he knew exactly how much I despised him, and it fueled him even more.

And unfortunately, he was everywhere.

In class, he was the one who always had the answer to the teacher’s question before anyone else could. During group projects, he was the one who refused to compromise, arguing with me until I wanted to scream. And now, to make matters worse, he was assigned as my partner for the dreaded school charity event.

“How unlucky can I get?” I muttered as I stared at the assignment sheet taped to the classroom wall.

“You mean lucky,” Seungmin’s voice chimed in behind me. “You get to work with me. I’m practically the backbone of this event.”

I turned to glare at him, my jaw tightening. “More like the thorn in its side.”

His smirk widened. “Nice one, Y/N. Did you rehearse that in the mirror this morning?”

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that starting a public argument wasn’t worth it. “Just stay out of my way,” I snapped, brushing past him.

“Not likely,” he called after me, his tone light and teasing.

Forced proximity, as it turned out, really was a writer’s favorite tool. For the next few weeks, Seungmin and I were glued at the hip, planning decorations, organizing volunteers, and managing donations. Every little interaction felt like a battle.

“Those posters are awful,” Seungmin said, leaning over my shoulder as I sketched out a design.

I turned to glare at him, clutching my marker like a weapon. “They’re fine.”

“They’re boring.”

“They’re professional.”

“They’re basic.”

“They’re effective,” I countered, gritting my teeth.

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied my work. “Fine. If you want the charity to look like it was organized by an accounting firm, go ahead.”

I wanted to throw the marker at him. Instead, I handed it to him. “If you’re so great, why don’t you show me your brilliant ideas?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow but took the marker, crouching down to the poster. His hand moved quickly, sketching out bold, dynamic lines. I hated to admit it, but the design was… good.

“See?” he said smugly, stepping back. “I told you. Artistic genius.”

“More like annoying perfectionist,” I muttered, but I left the design as it was.

Despite how much we fought, we occasionally found ourselves in sync. One day, as we set up the donation booth, Seungmin handed me a stack of flyers without me asking. Another day, I caught him fixing the garland I’d hung when it started to sag.

It was a rhythm neither of us acknowledged out loud, but I could feel it. The banter turned into something less heated, almost playful.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said one afternoon as we stuffed envelopes.

“What?” I replied warily, glancing at him.

He smirked, holding up one of the letters. “You spelled ‘donation’ wrong. Twice.”

I snatched the envelope out of his hand, heat rushing to my cheeks. “I did not.”

“You did,” he insisted, laughing. “Don’t worry. I fixed it. You’re welcome.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

It wasn’t until the night of the event that everything changed.

The gymnasium was packed with people, the decorations twinkling under the soft lights. I stood by the punch table, surveying the crowd and feeling an odd sense of pride. Everything had come together perfectly.

“You’re staring like you just won an award,” Seungmin’s voice came from beside me.

I turned to him, startled. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be off bragging to someone about how great this all looks.”

He shrugged, his expression unusually serious. “Maybe I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “I’m… fine. Why?”

“You’ve been running yourself ragged for weeks,” he said, his gaze steady. “You should take a break.”

The sincerity in his voice threw me completely off balance. “Are you… being nice to me?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said with a small smirk, but there was something softer in his eyes.

Before I could respond, someone called his name, and he walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart inexplicably pounding.

The next day, Seungmin was back to his usual self—teasing, sarcastic, and insufferable. But I couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d looked at me during the event, the way his voice had softened just slightly.

It wasn’t until we were packing up the leftover supplies that I finally confronted him.

“Why do you do it?” I asked, crossing my arms as I stood in front of him.

“Do what?” he replied, not looking up from the box he was taping shut.

“Push my buttons. Constantly.”

He paused, his hands stilling. Then he straightened, meeting my gaze. “Maybe because I like seeing how much fight you’ve got in you.”

I stared at him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

Seungmin stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You’re not like everyone else. You don’t just roll over and let people tell you what to do. You challenge me. And, as much as I hate to admit it…” He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “I kind of like it.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Are you… complimenting me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible, Kim Seungmin.”

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, his tone light but his gaze steady.

I didn’t have an answer to that.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as insufferable as I thought.

And so, the lines between love and hate blurred, leaving us in a place neither of us could quite define. But one thing was certain: life was a lot less boring with Seungmin around.

[nelsonny]

one thing i will never forgive the ace attorney fandom for is the severe mischaracterization and fanonization of manfred von karma. they turned him into an evil harmful abuser and it just makes a weaker narrative overall to me. i dont have any problem with it just being a headcanon because people are allowed to have whatever the fuck they want even if i dont like it but No its considered to be Canon and anyone who likes this character is Bad and its like Babe there is so many other things to hate this man over why do you choose one that is never shown in the games besides Once and that turned out to be a mistranslation and is also from a game that commonly mischaracterized its characters. what are you talking about.

you know what you CAN hate this man over? he was the one that people respected and adored, the one that was considered to be a god amongst prosecutors. he may be cold, stand-offish and a perfectionist, but miles knew he at least cared about him and was his main source of comfort when he needed it. he never knew that he was the one who killed his father and changed his life forever. he never knew that the person that gave him this much love and comfort was the person who made him scared of earthquakes to the point he'd passed out and made him always persistent on taking the stairs. the person who he hugged and cried into the shoulder of being the man who changed it all for the worse.

and for what? because he was a coward. he got scared when his perfect record has it's first penalty - and it wasn't even a loss. he still won. he could've moved on with his life and pretended it never happened. he was still respected amongst prosecutors despite it, after all, it wasn't his fault. yet he just couldn't help it. it was opportunistic and uncalculated. he was filled with such guilt and regret to the point he took in his victim's own son and raised him like his own. knowingly allowed him to cry into his shoulder and told him that it was going to be okay, he's here and that's all that matters when he was the one who took that gun and shot him.

and then people Hate him not because of all of that but because he is an Evil Abuser And Doesn't Regret What He Did At All Because He's Just That Evil.

[aemmawrites]

I hate that I Love you

wc. 945 tw. toxic amber, cussing pairing- Amber freeman x reader

Ever since you were younger you had a certain way you liked to do things.

You liked to have everything organized and structured. But as you learned life always comes with obstacles. Obstacles, you’ve learned, are inevitable.

Just like the obstacle laying beside you.

Amber freeman.

To say you were a perfectionist was an understatement, you had the same routine you stuck to every morning. Wake up, get ready for school, cheerleading practice, homework, get ready for bed, sleep.

Repeat.

Everything was perfect, and then a disruption in your routine happened. Wakeup, get ready for school, bump into Amber Freeman on the way to cheer practice, regret your life choices, homework, get ready for bed, sleep.

Amber was a character for sure, she was bad for you, and you knew that, even now as you sat in her bed, relaxed with your head in her lap while she watched the stab movies for the third time this week.

One year.

You guys have been together for one whole year. And you’ve never felt worse. Crying yourself to sleep at night when she accused you of cheating, arguing over stupid things such as your skirt being a little too short, silent treatment for weeks until you admitted you were wrong even when you weren’t, somehow making you feel like without her you could do nothing, you would be nothing.

You suppose it was your fault as amber would say, “you knew how I was when you first agreed to date me, so what's the problem now”

flashback

You were late.

Of course, as you realized you were going to have extra laps at practice for being late, you started to speed walk down the hallways, not paying attention, you bumped into one accidentally tripping and bringing them down with you. Frantically you looked up to see who you rushed in to and immediately apologized. “I'm so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and I-”

“Shut up” was all she said, glaring at you making you look down in embarrassment.

“I don't need an apology, I need you to watch where you're going”, she looked up and paused, analyzing the girl in front of her. You both looked at each other as if waiting for eachothers next move. You made a move to leave and get out of the awkward situation before she stepped in front of you and said “wait.”

And then it all went downhill from their

now

“Are you even paying attention?” Amber whispered as if not to scare you. You looked up at her before responding, “yeah im just tired, also we’ve seen this movie 10 times already, this month,” Amber rolled her eyes, getting ready to rant about how the stab franchise is worth rewatching, you sighed.

You moved your head off her lap and onto the pillow next to her. “I'm going to sleep” is all you could say before Amber started a new argument with you.

Again.

Amber looked over at you  with a frown, “so your tired now, but not when that Olivia girl was talking to you, you seem so energized, but now your tired.”

One moment of peace was all you wanted, you turned to face amber before saying. “Amber, me and Olivia are on the cheer team together, where friends, and friends talk. Also it’s 3am and we have been watching movies for the past 6 hours, I'm tired.” You tried to reason.

Amber quickly responded with “you can either stay up with me and watch movies, or spend the night with Olivia since you seem to like her so much.”

You snapped, this wasn’t that big of a deal based on things Amber has done to you in the past, but it was like everything that had ever made you mad, upset, and sad came to the top. “Amber, my life doesn’t revolve around you and you honestly need to get over yourself!”

Silence.

Amber's eyes widened as if it was crazy that you would talk back to her, so she did what she did best, hurt you. “How can you say that, after all I have done for you, when we first met you were just some weird loner with no friends, I made you who you are, your nothing without me”

“Fuck you Amber, i'm leaving” here you were trying your best and it was never enough for her, you started to get dress as you felt hands wrap around your waist. And just like that happy Amber was back.

Amber smiled at you as if to make the situation better. “I'm sorry, you know how I get, you know I didn’t mean it, please stay,” as much as you wanted to relax into her touch you knew better, so you ignored her and put your shoes on.

“Are you really going to walk home at three in the morning, that's not safe” Amber smiled as she nodded her head to the window, and just now you noticed how dark it was. Weighing your options, you sighed and went to make a move to go outside. She quickly grabbed your wrist before saying “don’t be stupid it’s not safe, stay here, where I can protect you, where I can hold you, you just said you were tired, let's go to sleep.”

Before you could say anything she started pushing you back towards her bed, using her strength to keep you from trying to leave. You tried to leave, you really did but you were tired, it was scary outside, and the way Amber was looking at you right now made your heart melt. So you sighed as she tried to coax you to come back to her bed, you relented, you gave up, and just like that you were back in her arms, back in her bed.

Again.

This was the part in your routine where you regret your life choices.

[reputationmunson]

Hii I was wondering if you could write a Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader where she’s like 2 or 3 years younger than him and she’s in love with him and he knows about it but he pushes her away because of the age gap but when they’re in the upside down she gets hurt and he freaks out and they have an argument and he realizes his feelings for her. Sorry if it’s confusing :) she/her pronouns please

I am so sorry this took me so long! I’m already a perfectionist and then i’m even worse when it comes to requests because i’m scared of disappointing people that request things. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request and being patient!

Bloodshed, Crimson Clover | s.h x fem!reader

content: angsty, mentions of unrequited feelings, reader is 20 and steve is 22, blood/injuries, the upside down, mentions of death, happy ending!, henderson!reader(i made reader adopted so that way there’s no indication that she has to resemble dustin) 

Word count: 2.3k

What is it that causes such an incessant need for someone’s validation? Especially when that person has never even given you an inkling of recognition. 

Is it low self-esteem? Is it to fill a void? Or is it because your “adorable”, “genius” younger brother overshadowed you for the majority of your life? 

If you would get a B+ on a test, Dustin would come home and say he got the highest grade in his class. When you got your driver's license, Dustin had just invented one of his gadgets. Those were just two examples out of many instances. 

You know it was never intentional or malicious. You considered him to be your best friend and your mom always talks about how excited you were about having a baby brother. You were adopted as a baby, but biology never mattered much to you. Your mom was your mom and your brother was your brother. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. 

Your issue with approval didn’t start until your freshman year of high school. When you met him. 

Steve Harrington, to be specific. 

It’s cliche, right? The quiet girl who’s a bit of a loner having a huge, almost embarrassing, crush on the popular guy who practically runs the school. 

Much like the rest of the girls, you fell victim to the fascination of Steve. 

As expected, he never paid much attention to you. There was a time period during sophomore year that he would occasionally copy off your tests in science class. He tried to be subtle about it, but that only made it more obvious. It never bothered you, though. It made you feel special, however silly that sounds. 

Then, the unthinkable happened. your little brother, who was still in middle school at the time, befriended Steve. 

To say it was mind boggling would be an understatement. 

Here you were, spending your first two years of high school trying to get his attention, and out of the blue Steve drives Dustin to a school dance. Ever since then, he became a glorified babysitter and mentor to Dustin. Even now, after all these years since Dustin has grown up, their relationship remained the same. 

“I’m always gonna look out for you, buddy” you once overheard Steve say to your brother, making your heart swell. 

You thought for sure this was going to be your chance to get closer to Steve, maybe you’d be lucky enough for him to fall for you the way you fell for him. A silly school girl crush had turned into a pining, unrequited mess. You felt like a fool the way you would try and put yourself out there, only for him to drift further and further from you. 

“Hey, Steve, wanna watch a movie after you drop Dustin off at the arcade?” you’d ask and he’d reply “Sorry, I can’t. Gotta do laundry tonight” or some other half-assed excuse and pity smile to try and let you down easily. 

The way you acted was cumbersome. Laughing at his jokes too loudly when they weren’t even really that funny, putting on your best outfit when you knew he was coming over, and baking him cookies as a ‘thank you’ for taking care of Dustin. You weren’t subtle about your crush, making it even worse that the feelings weren’t reciprocated. 

At first, you chalked it up to being a sophomore while he was a senior, then being a junior once he graduated. After that, you blamed nothing but yourself. Were you not pretty enough? Not funny enough? Not good enough? Too upfront with how you felt? Too desperate?

The same questions run around your mind almost every night before you fall asleep, hoping that one day maybe it’ll hit him that he wants you just as much or maybe you’ll wake up one day and be over him, which is the more likely option. 

At least it was, until tonight. 

_

“Jesus christ, y/n, you could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Steve reprimands for what feels like the thousandth time. His arm supports your waist as your arm is wrapped around his shoulders as you walk into his house.

“So you’ve said” you grunt, barely audible due to the fact you feel like you won’t make it if you use up all your energy to speak. 

_

A gate had opened to the upside down, which you only learned about two years ago. You all thought the gate was closed for good, but alternate dimensions seem to be a bit unpredictable. 

You refused to let Dustin go with you and Steve agreed. Both of you had one thing in common; you’d do anything to protect him. It was only you and Steve that had gone and it wasn’t exactly how you pictured having alone time with him. 

After what felt like hours of going in circles, you strayed from him in an attempt to find your way out and then planned to go back to him then lead the way back home. Steve ran after you, but ended up losing you. 

All of the sudden, the weirdest looking creature you’d ever seen came out of nowhere, scratching and biting at you. You fought hard, finally grabbing hold of your weapon and killing whatever the hell was trying to kill you. 

You laid there for what felt like an eternity, covered in blood with blurry vision and the feeling of slipping away from your body. 

“Oh my god, y/n!” you had heard him shout and he sounded like he was a million miles away. “Nonono, what happened?” he kneeled on the ground, hands flew to try your wounds to try and stop the bleeding

“I tripped” you attempted to joke, hissing in pain when you let out a small chuckle. He didn’t laugh, though. Didn’t even crack a smile. He just looked at you with wide, concerned eyes. “I’m gonna help you stand, okay?”

“I-I c-can’t” you began to sob. “It hurts so bad, Steve”

“I know, I know, but we gotta get you out of here. I’m gonna clean you up and make you feel better, but you gotta stand up” He tries to help you up, but you can’t do it. “Just leave me. You need to get out of here. Please don’t make me move, please” you beg. 

“I can’t lose you, y/n. We can’t lose you. Think about Dustin and your mom and your friends a-and me” you swear it sounds like he’s choking on a sob. What does he mean he can’t lose you? You barely mutter out an ‘okay’ and muster up all of your energy to move. 

Somehow, you escape the hellhole and you don’t remember how you make it back to his house, but you do. You’re battered and bruised, but you're safe with Steve’s arm around you, nonetheless. You’re gonna have to find a way to send the weirdest thank you note to that demonic creature. 

_

Steve runs around the bathroom frantically, gathering every possible first-aid item as you sit on the sink counter. 

“We gotta get you cleaned up first, alright?’’ you give a small nod and he turns the shower on before rushing out of the bathroom, going as quickly as he can so you aren’t left alone too long. 

“Here take these pain pills” he says when he returns, handing you the pills and water. “And I’m gonna put this stool in the shower so you can sit down, okay? Oh, and here are some clean clothes and towels” he’s talking so fast, still in a panic. “M’gonna be fine, Steve. Don’t freak out”

“Can you, um, get undressed by yourself?” he asks, avoiding eye contact. “mhmm” you respond and he helps you down from the counter. “I’m gonna be right outside that door. Let me know when you’re dressed” 

Steve shuts the door behind him and sits on the floor right outside, just like he said he’d do. 

The hot water bites at your wounds, blood and dirt flow down the drain and you can’t stop the tears that start to burst. You almost died tonight, but Steve saved you. He’s still saving you. 

His words echo throughout your mind. “I can’t lose you’’ he had said. Did you hallucinate or something? Did he actually say that? 

On the other side of the door, Steve sits with his head in his hands and trying to quiet his sobs. He’s seen and experienced things unimaginable, but the image of you lying on the ground almost lifeless makes him sick. He thought you were already dead. The feeling of his heart dropping to his stomach hasn’t gone away. 

Steve has never thought of a world without you in it and now that he has, regrets swirl in his head. 

He remembers you in high school. The introverted girl with an obvious crush on him that he never thought twice about because let's be honest, he was no stranger to girls being attracted to him. At the time, Steve only thought of you as the girl two years younger than him who would get flustered everytime he sat next to her in science class.

 As time went on, he knew your feelings never went away, but it took him almost losing you to realize how he feels about you. A world without you in it would be a world not worth being a part of. 

Steve hears the shower turn off and your groan as you get dressed. He quickly wipes his tears and tries to compose himself. 

“Steve” you mutter, voice meek. “Are you dressed?” he asks. “yeah. Can you help me now, please?” he’s never opened a door faster in his life.

Despite the look of defeat on your face, you still look beautiful. Especially in his clothes. 

“Can you sit on the counter?” he asks and you hoist yourself up with a grunt. “I’m gonna lift up your shirt then clean the wounds with rubbing alcohol. Might sting a little” he informs you. 

When the alcohol hits your wounds, you grab Steve’s shoulder and squeeze. “sorry” you mutter. “s’fine. I know this hurts. I don’t mind” he assures you. “If you wanna talk as a distraction, that’s fine. It’s helped me in the past” he suggests. 

“What did you mean when you said you couldn’t lose me?” you ask, getting straight to the point.

“I don’t think i said that” he lies. “you did” you counter. “I said everyone else couldn’t lose you” he responds. He’s too scared to tell you how he really feels, even after all this. “Are you really going to argue with a dying person?” “You aren’t dying. You’re fine”

“Then why were you crying?” you argue. “I wasn’t. I’m tired” he lies again. “You’re impossible” you scoff. “I’m impossible? You’re the idiot who ran away and almost got killed!” he exclaims. “I was trying to find a way home!” you defend yourself and he rolls his eyes. 

He stops cleaning your wounds to look at you. “And how did that go? You do understand that you almost died, don’t you? It was so fucking stupid”

“Then why didn’t you just leave me like I asked you to?’

“Dustin would never forgive me” he states. “Is that all?” he hesitates for a second

“Yes” 

“Tell me the truth” you demand. “That is the truth,” he insists. “I don’t believe you”

“Fuck, y/n! What do you want me to say? That if I lost you I would never fucking recover? That if I had to go the rest of my life without hearing the way you laugh, I’d never smile again? Or do you wanna know that the thought of you being gone would kill me and I would never forgive myself. Ever” 

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it or ‘cause you know that’s just wanna hear” you look down at your lap and a tear falls down your cheek. “I’m not and I hate that this is what it took for me to realize that I lo-” he stops himself and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Do you really feel that way?” you whisper and he nods, huffing out a sigh. 

“Can you kiss me?”

“I will once I put the bandages on. I promise” he swears “They can wait. I’ve been waiting for five years”

He rests his hand on your cheek and you try to lean in, but whimper in pain when you move. “Sit still, baby. Let me take care you”

Steve Harrington just called you ‘baby’. If you found out you died and went to heaven, you wouldn’t be surprised. 

Steve leans in slowly, pressing kisses to the corners of your lips before fully placing his lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, feeling the weight of a thousand pounds being lifted off of you. His lips are as soft as you imagined they would be and his hand that cradles your face makes you feel safer than you’ve ever been. 

“I love you” he whispers against your lips “I love you, too. I always have” 

“Way to one up me” he teases. “You better get used to it ‘cause you loooovvvee me” 

“Yeah, I do, so you don’t have to write sad love poems in your diary anymore”

“You read those?!” you gasp and he laughs. “Dustin told me about them. They sounded like shakespeare, you should write a damn book or something”

“Shut up and kiss me again”

He kisses you again and again, only stopping to finish tending to your wounds. When you start to cry over the scars you’re gonna have, he promises that he’s going to kiss and adore them for the rest of your lives. You don’t doubt him for a second

Tonight was equally the worst and best night of your life, but you’d do it all over again for him in a heartbeat.

_

thank you for reading!

_

[5starl1ght]

Hello, could you please write prompt 6. **Cooking Together**: Characters A and B cook a meal together, resulting in a flour fight and a messy kitchen with Charles Leclerc, please <3

Here you go lovely! Hope you like it and thank you for asking o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

Cooking Together with Charles

Mesterlist prompt list

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon when you and Charles decided to tackle the kitchen together. The plan was simple: cook a homemade pizza from scratch. The reality, as you both would soon find out, was far more chaotic.

The kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering scent of fresh ingredients and the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. Charles, ever the perfectionist, was meticulously measuring out the flour while you prepped the toppings on the counter beside him.

"Are you sure that's enough flour?" you teased, watching him with an amused smile. "I don't want our pizza to turn into a pancake."

Charles looked up, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Just trust me, okay? I've got this."

He carefully poured the flour into a large mixing bowl, but as he turned to reach for the water, his elbow nudged the bag of flour off the counter. In a split second, a cloud of white powder erupted into the air, covering both of you in a fine layer of flour.

You burst out laughing, trying to wipe the flour from your face, but it only made matters worse. "Charles! Look what you've done!"

He stood there, momentarily stunned, before breaking into a grin. "Oops," he said sheepishly. "Guess we'll be having a floury pizza."

Without missing a beat, you scooped up a handful of flour and flung it at him. "Oops," you mimicked, unable to contain your giggles.

Charles's eyes widened in mock horror before he retaliated with a handful of his own. Soon, the kitchen was a battleground, flour flying everywhere as you both laughed uncontrollably. The counters, floor, and even the ceiling were dusted with white, but neither of you cared. It was a rare moment of carefree fun, far removed from the pressures of Charles's racing schedule.

Eventually, you both called a truce, collapsing onto the kitchen floor amidst the mess, still giggling. Charles reached out and brushed a flour-covered strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, his eyes full of warmth.

"You look ridiculous," you replied, smiling as you reached up to wipe a smudge of flour from his cheek.

He chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. "Maybe, but I'm your ridiculous."

Together, you managed to clean up the worst of the mess and finally got back to making the pizza. Despite the chaos, the end result was

delicious. The dough was a little uneven, and the toppings might not have been perfectly distributed, but the experience of making it together made it the best pizza you had ever tasted.

As you sat at the table, enjoying your homemade creation, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Charles, still with a dusting of flour in his hair, was smiling at you with such genuine happiness that it made your heart swell.

"Do you think the kitchen will ever be the same again?" you asked playfully, taking another bite of pizza.

Charles shrugged, a carefree grin spreading across his face. "Maybe not, but I wouldn't trade today for anything. This was perfect."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "Agreed. We should do this more often—minus the flour fight."

Charles laughed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "Deal. But don't think I won't start another food fight if I get the chance."

You both laughed, the kind of laughter that comes from shared joy and unspoken love. The afternoon had been a wonderful reminder that sometimes, the best memories are made in the simplest moments of everyday life. Cooking together, covered in flour, laughing and teasing each other—it was these moments that made your relationship with Charles so special.

As the evening drew on and the kitchen was finally cleaned up, you found yourselves on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching a movie. The warmth of the pizza still lingered, and the shared laughter echoed softly in your minds. Charles pulled you closer, his arm around your shoulders, and you nestled into his side, feeling completely at home.

"Today was amazing," you whispered, looking up at him.

Charles smiled down at you, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Every day with you is amazing."

In that moment, you realized that it wasn't just the grand gestures or the high-speed thrills that made your relationship with Charles special. It was the little things—the shared flour fights, the homemade meals, the quiet cuddles on the couch. It was being understood and loved for exactly who you were, in every silly, messy, wonderful moment.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that no matter where life took you both, you would always treasure these simple, perfect days together.