#he surely would have rather never lived at all

[goatgoesmbe]

tw : sexual theme, stalking, 141 being a creep

A series : part 2 of Discord shenanigans

AO3

Word count: 2031

rated: E

Poly!141 x f!reader

The New Member

The server wasn’t meant for public in the first place.

It was just something quick Johnny made just to have a little corner to hang out when they were on leave.

They rarely used it at first, finding no reason to communicate outside of work, they were busy with their own life anyway.

That was, until Johnny started sending pictures of literally anything in his daily life. It started with scenery, dogs he saw during walks, and selfies. Soon enough, Simon joined in with his own blurry pictures, then Kyle’s award-worthy photography, and John who sent the most normal pictures of some nice views worth sharing.

Eventually, interacting through the server became so regular that they started using it when they got back on base too– They never talk about something confidential in it of course, they were still professionals after all.

The gaming session was Kyle’s idea (Well, actually it was Johnny but he couldn’t convince them to play among us), they started playing various FPS games before settling for the popular one.

Kyle played casually, Johnny played competitively (and sucked at it compared to the others), John played it rarely but was pretty decent at it, while Simon was effortlessly good at it (Which he was so smug about).

The members consisted of people they knew from their jobs, so imagine their surprise when there was a notification about a new member.

You.

They welcomed you in a friendly manner, showing no suspicion despite John telling Kyle to do a background check immediately. And oh do they like what they see.

Pretty thing that you are, messy hair, pouty lips, dark bags under your eyes that only made you look more adorable rather than off-putting, like a sleepy panda. You always wore comfortable clothes oversized shirts or hoodies on colder days while your legs were bare, sitting crosslegged in your gaming chair with a big plushie in your lap. Johnny wondered if you wore anything underneath which made them go silent. made them think.

Fuck.

It was illegal and immoral, but really– everything they had ever done was all of those things and more, so what’s a bit of hacking into the webcam of a bonnie thing like you? It was done for their own safety after all, keeping their secrets as members of a highly classified military task force. It was only normal for them to check for any individuals that got into their space. Just in case.

Sure, they could just drop it when they found out that you were just a harmless civilian, but they also learned that you were just a sweet thing.. they immediately took a liking to you, adored you, so of course they had to keep an eye on you because they wanted to make sure you were alright. Keeping a civilians safe was part of their job, right?

You live alone, which made sense as to why you have CCTVs around your place. Smart girl, looking after your security seriously. Adorable.

Was it creepy for them to have access to those CCTVs? They just cared about your safety is all, was it wrong?

Well, they didn’t really care if it was, they were in too deep already, addicted to watching you in your own world, from your pretty face looking adorable as you focused on the game you were playing, the chime of your giggle when Johnny sent something stupid, to the way those innocent eyes showed no suspicion when one of them slipped up.

“Not as bonnie as you ;)” Johnny sent one time.

“You don’t even know what i look like XD”

Fortunately, you were oblivious. But still, they need to be more careful in the future. Johnny had a limp the next day and his body was covered in marks that peeked from the t-shirt he wore. But from how he barely covered them and how he still had that smirk on his face, it looked like he would definitely do it again if it would have John sending Simon to punish him.

Watching you had become a group routine. When they weren’t in the same room, they just hopped on the hidden channel Johnny made just to ping each other whenever you were doing something that would pique their interest.

Kyle enjoyed watching you go about with your routine, waking up at noon, cooking up something simple for yourself before you lock into your PC to do your freelance job then hopped into video games. His favorite was when you did your skincare, hand went down to cup the bulge in his pants as he watched you putting on lotion all over your body. His eyes darkened at the thought of him doing it instead, sliding his hand up your legs, lathering them nicely, and perhaps sneaking an opportunity for a feel of your clothed pussy when he reached your inner thighs.

Johnny likes to watch your reaction whenever you two interact, relishing your flustered expression from his relentless flirting. He wondered if you would also be shy under him, squirming as you tried to hide your face while he took off your clothes. He would click his tongue as he pried your hands off your face and gripped both of your wrists in one hand before pinning them above your head, one knee lodged between your legs to prevent you from closing them.

John’s favorite part of your day was when you were working. Tongue peeking out slightly in concentration, your doe eyes shifted and looked sharper when you were focused. He was there when you were in an online meeting with your employer, even though noone noticed. As he watched you talk, he liked to imagine that you were working for him instead. Talking formally unlike how you usually were when you were talking to them, he imagined you calling him sir like how you called your current boss. The bastard that made you uncomfortable with the way he leered at you, making innuendos while you tried your best to keep the conversation professional. You poor thing, don’t worry, John will teach him a lesson or two about respecting you. And yes, he was a hypocrite since he was lazily pumping his shaft under the desk as he watched you doing your job.

Simon rarely said anything about it, but out of everyone in the server, he was a constant presence with how the view count never went below one. He wasn’t picky, he liked watching you doing anything, even when you were just sleeping, he’d fuck his fist messily at the view of you being so vulnerable and oblivious before shooting his cum all over the screen with your face displayed on it. He was the one who would ping the others to notify them when you were doing something he knew they would be interested in.

Like right now.

It had been a long week, you barely had time to do your hobby. Projects after project that got you awake until two am before a quick wink of rest until you had to wake up again at five. When you were looking forward to doing something fun but then finding yourself too tired to even play your favorite game. And then you’d feel bad for neglecting your hobby as you continued to be enslaved under capitalism.

You were tired, sleep-deprived, stressed, and pent-up. At times like this, you were glad that you worked from home. You couldn’t imagine yourself not snapping at people if you work in an office with coworkers. Couldn’t even find the energy to open the server these past few days since you didn’t want to interact with anyone.

So naturally, they would miss you. Naturally, they were very excited when Simon pinged all of them in the hidden channel.

The light in your room was dimmed, but they could see your figure just fine. Panting on the bed on your back, legs spread wide with your hand between them while your other hand was clutching a pillow which you use to hide your face. 

John growled, fingers twitching as he thought of taking it off you so he could see what kind of expression you were making. Instead, he gripped Kyle’s dick as the younger man rolled his hips with the Captain bottoming out in his ass as they were both settled on the couch.

Johnny pulled away from Simon’s cock with a lewd pop. “She could fit mair than that..” he panted before Simon shoved his dick back in the scot’s mouth, gloved hand gripping at his mohawk.

His words got them zeroed in on your cunt which was stuffed with your fingers deep to your knuckles. Wet squelching noises combined with your needy whines echoed around the rec room from the cheap speakers as the stream was displayed on the wall from the projector. Johnny was right, you could take more than that. And from the way you desperately bucked your hips as you moved your fingers that fast, they could tell that you wanted to take more either.

“Does she not have a fucking toy?” Kyle groaned as he jacked off with the same tempo as your fingers as he continued to move in John’s lap.

“No” Simon responded curtly. He would know, he was the one who always kept an eye on you more than anyone else after all.

He knew you didn’t have a partner and never brought anyone home. You rarely go out and when you do, you’ll be back soon enough. A quick trip to the grocery stores or some shops, as shown by the trackers he put in your phone. Low possibility of you seeking out to anyone. Perhaps it was odd for some people but he wasn’t complaining, because he was only willing to share you with the men he trusted his life with.

You rarely pleasure yourself either, which made a moment like this more special. At first, he expected you to whimper out someone’s name, a crush they didn’t know about perhaps. Fortunately, that never happened. You seem content with yourself like this, eyes closed as you focus on the way you curl your fingers and grind your palm against your clit.

But they could tell you wanted more. They agreed that you deserved more. They could give you more.

Your whole body tensed, a shudder rippled through your body as heat built in waves. Breath hitching as you gasped, soft at first before breaking into a moan, raw and unrestrained. Fingers clutching at your pillow, muscles tightening as pleasure peaked, your back arching instinctively.

A flush spread across your skin, a sheen of sweat caught the light. Eyes fluttered to a close, lips parted, as a final tremor coursed through your body before you melted into the afterglow, breathless and trembling.

Yet, your cunt still clenched around your fingers as you pulled them out, like it didn’t want to let them go, because you still wanted more. You whined, and they groaned at the expression on your face. Unsatisfied, but too tired to do anything about it.

After a moment of gathering your jumbled mind, you got up and headed to the bathroom for a shower. And while they knew it was impossible, they wished you had a camera there too.

As the men chased their own pleasures, they thought to themselves about how they could help. You were physically nowhere near them at the moment, and they didn’t want to scare you by being too upfront in the server. Didn’t want you to know what they had been doing behind your back.

The next day, an onslaught of sex toy ads kept popping up when you turned on your PC. It obviously pissed you off at first (especially with how one appeared when you share your screen during a work meeting), but eventually it made you consider getting one. And if you got a transfer to your bank account in the same amount you spent on it right after, if you received four dildos instead of one, they totally had nothing to do with it. Nope, they totally didn’t send you the exact copies of their cocks.

Next (soon)

A/N: I remember someone saying 'How are you gonna get a guy if you never leave your house' and this is my answer to that also, this series was supposed to be fun silly online friends story, so idk what happened here, I swear the story wrote itself I had nothing to do with it

open taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @sweetlike-sugarplum, @mordacioust, @boogeysmoth, @little-mini-me-world, @sxnshinebxcky, @lady-red-night-1234, @theycallmevalen, @z-wantstowrite, @c-moon20-12, @glitteryarcadefart, @purple-snowfox

[blacktabbygames]

A small content update for Slay the Princess just went live — The Voice of the Skeptic now accompanies you on the Deconstructed side of Happily Ever After instead of Voice of the Paranoid.

I’m not sure why I originally settled on Paranoid for that branch of the story. Maybe it was because Skeptic already felt overrepresented in The Pristine Cut between his presence in the Den, and his major role in The Cage split across three routes. The Cage in particular was a very emotionally taxing chapter to work on, so maybe I was tired of writing him.

But post release, it’s felt like:

Paranoid’s in HEA was just kind of there. At least, none of the things he does in the chapter felt important for his character.

Every voice gets an opportunity to truly shine somewhere except Skeptic. In fact, to push players to the cage, we wound up taking away one of his weirdest moments to shine from the base game (pushing you to take The Prisoner’s head with you.) Localizing the game means that redoing any dialogue is very burdensome, since I’d have to have it retranslated in all 12 of our supported languages, but upon looking more closely at the script for Happily Ever After, I realized that all but one or two lines felt more like they belonged to skeptic rather than the paranoid anyways.

And that when given to the skeptic, those lines don’t feel like he’s just kind of there the way it felt like Paranoid was just kind of there. The small wins Paranoid can get in that chapter — deducing the identity of the shadow; pushing you to blow out the torches — they’re big wins for the Skeptic, and the route seemed like it would be much more rounded if he was swapped in.

And beyond that, I couldn’t get the following line from the Shifting Mound’s monologue about the Deconstructed Damsel out of my head:

“Love melted into skepticism, and you pulled back layer after layer after layer until all you were left with was the knowledge that you did not know me.”

We couldn’t just use the word skepticism to describe the route’s entry point and not include our lil’ over-analytical guy. So we took some time this month to re-record those lines with Jonny and make the changes to the game, and now that itching need to fix “just one more thing” is finally gone.

This is probably the final content update for Slay the Princess (though, never say never I suppose.) Ever since we started work on The Pristine Cut, I wanted to end my work on the game with the conclusion of Happily Ever After. I’m grateful for the opportunity for that to finally be the case.

I hope to see you all tomorrow with Scarlet Hollow’s relaunch, but even if I don’t see you there, thank you all for the life-changing support you’ve given us. I hope our game means as much to you as it means to us.

All the best, Tony

[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ CAUGHT RED HANDED PART 2

જ⁀➴ The LADS guys catch you masturbating.

ﾉ including: Zayne

ﾉ cw: afab!reader, no pronouns used, masturbation, getting caught, oral (reader receiving), mentions of fingering, consent king Zayne, petname "Darling"

ﾉ wordcount: 1.1k

ﾉ info: As feared, i escalated with the headcanons. Rafayel and Sylus follow next week! ﾉ Requests are OPEN!

-> Xavier

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

✶࿐ Zayne

♡ You had clear orders from Doctor Zayne; Rest for a few days, eat meals regularly, hydrate and take your meds. He wouldn't need to tell you that he expected to hear from you at least twice a day, you'd blow up his phone like you usually would when you were injured and bored.

♡ Today however you spent your day sleeping, bathing and binge watching your latest tv-show, you completely forgot that time and space exist and that a certain doctor would grow worried if he wouldn't hear from you and how well you listened to his orders.

♡ Out of nowhere the mood hit you and your hand slowly traveled over your thighs, teasing yourself by touching yourself close to your core, but never quite where you needed it.

♡ By the time you finally peeled off your clothes, you were dripping wet, the teasing made you even needier than you already were, your panties drenched with your arousal.

♡ Carelessly, you tossed them to the floor and propped your feet up on the living room table, your thighs spread wide and your folds glistened with arousal.

♡ Your fingers danced over your folds before gently rubbing circles over your clit until your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled.

♡ Time didn't exist anymore in this moment, the sounds from your TV slowly faded into the background and the pleasure overwhelmed you to the point where you didn't hear your phone vibrate or the knocks on your door.

♡ Zayne grew worried after hearing nothing from you all day, so he decided to go past your place to cook a nice meal for you and to make sure you were looking after yourself.

♡ When you didn't react to messages or the rather loud knocks he grew concerned. What if you fell and couldn't get up? Pressing his ear against the door didn't make things better.

♡ All he heard were whines, whimpers and the occasional groan, which let his mind run wild. Did you fall and hit your head on the kitchen counter? Were you in pain and couldn't call for help?

♡ He decided that he had enough, swiftly typing in the code to your apartment, but the view was everything but a half dead person, rendered helpless and possibly bleeding on the floor.

♡ Zayne couldn't help but let his eyes wander for just a second, but the grocery bags already slipped out of his hands, only to land on the floor with a loud thud.

♡ Your eyes flew open at the noise and you instinctively closed your legs and reached for a couch pillow to shield your nakedness from the intruder, your eyes widening in utter shock when it was Zayne.

♡ He tried to be respectful, his eyes trained on your face despite having seen your body in different states of undress before. But this was different. He was Doctor Zayne in these past instances - and you certainly weren't touching yourself then either.

♡ His eyes looked colder than usual, hungry, needy and it was hard to miss how every muscle in his body tensed up with restraint.

♡ “Don't,” a single word slipped from his lips as if it was an order, but he didn't move an inch, leaving you the choice if you disregard his orders as usual or if you will follow them for once.

♡ Your tight grip on the pillow loosened, fingers almost going slack which made the pillow slip down enough to reveal the valley of your breasts. With a rather helpless look you looked up at the man from your seated position and nodded your head - giving him consent.

♡ Zayne almost missed the slight movement of your head but your body language grew less offensive and more desperate with each passing second.

♡ “I should scold you for making me worry,” he breathed out as he stalked over to the couch where you sat, which made you feel like prey under his intense gaze.

♡ “You can also help me instead,” your voice was breathy from how close you were and it was as if every last bit of restraint left Zayne with your words.

♡ The usually reserved man dropped to his knees between your legs and kissed along your inner thighs all the way to your mound.

♡ “Tell me to stop,” again, it sounded more like an order but you knew what he meant. He wanted to respect you, to keep you at a certain distance and not cross this line but at the same time he needed you like his lungs needed oxygen to breathe.

♡ You simply shook your head and ran your hand through his soft, dark hair. You shouldn't let him, but you've been fantasizing about him all day already, imagining his hands playing with your pussy instead of your own.

♡ “What if I don't want you to stop?” You ask simply and you could swear that you saw the corners of his lips curl into the smallest smirk known to mankind.

♡ “When will you ever listen to me, darling?” He sounded defeated as his breath fanned over your exposed pussy before he closed the small distance.

♡ A relieved sigh left your lips when Zayne’s tongue dragged through your folds in a zigzag motion and his eyes rolled back the moment your juices melted on his tongue.

♡ Your hand reached down again to thread your fingers through his hair, gently pulling on the fine strands which made him eat you out with more fervor, if that was even possible.

♡ “Eyes on me,” another order he breathed out the moment you closed your eyes in pure bliss, forcing yourself to look back down at the handsome man between your thighs.

♡ You didn't expect your fantasy to come true when you started to touch yourself to his image - the thought of getting caught by him was your biggest fear, but you realized it was nowhere near as scary when it actually happened.

♡ Watching Zayne slowly losing his composure to the point where he was eating you out like a man starved was enough to have you whimpering his name, slowly panting like a bitch in heat from how good he made you feel.

♡ “Come for me, darling,” his thumb replaced his tongue momentarily while he spoke, not wanting to rob you of this pleasure before diving back in to suckle at your bundle of nerves.

♡ This was an order you would definitely listen to… not like you had any other choice as the knot in your stomach already tightened, ready to snap at any moment.

[akashirl]

- mi ♡ sei ship questions !!

↓↓ (beware the long post)

ps: i used both first and third person. i am my s/i, after all.

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. they first met on sei's first year and mi's second year of middle school, during basketball practice. it was the second practice miguel had attended, sei didn't show up on the first day.

2. miguel's first impression of sei was that he was an angel on earth, like some sort of divine being. it was absolute love at first sight. seijuro's first impression of miguel was that he was tall and a good player. he didn't think much of him at that time.

3. miguel was the one who felt romantic feelings first. it was immediate.

4. both of them tried to repress their feelings. miguel because he felt like he wasn't worthy of sei's admiration, and sei because he knows that being with another guy would be simply impossible due to his role as the only heir of the akashi lineage.

5. sei's life would have been ruled by his father's decisions. he wouldn't play in the nba, rather follow business like intended and put his dreams aside. his life would be quite monotonous. as for miguel, he would have succumbed to his disorder and just straight up would have died, without any kind of strength to keep going and no one to stay alive for.

6. they never left the flirting stage. sei is quite flirty in private, and it flusters miguel easily, who always tries to flirt back but fails miserably (marinette core).

7. OH BOY. miguel doesn't have a good relationship with his mother so he's living in the rakuzan dorms. his parents like sei, but they pretend to be unaware about miguel's feelings for him. as for sei's family, oh god. miguel is familiar with sei's nanny and driver, but he hasn't met masaomi personally. he's not exactly fond of him, either. so basically, neither families know that they're a "thing".

II. GENERAL

1. it was sei who initiated it. it was after my second practice at rakuzan after the absolute storm that was having to deal with my disorder... (i get way too shy talking about this) sei promptly told me that he already knew about my feelings for him, and kissed me when we were all alone and the lights were low. i didn't even have to say anything, he could read my thoughts effortlessly.

2. they didn't have an "official first date" but rather lots of casual hang outs. they spend all their free time together, be it playing basketball together or chess, studying together or going out during lunch break at rakuzan. they go to the movies together and sometimes bring the rakuzan gang along.

3. i am going to EXPLODE. this was on my first misei lore post but here it goes: it was after practice and miguel went to clean up in the locker room. sei followed him. they were all alone. mi didn't realize he was even there until he turned around; he asked if sei needed everything and seijuro simply went up to him, cupped his face with his hands and brought him down for a kiss. it all happened so fast that miguel felt like he was close to passing out. then sei pulled back, looked him in the eyes and said "don't ever scare me like that again.". how romantic, huh? crazy.

4. sei was mi's first crush, love, "relationship", and pretty much everything. mi was NOT sei's first crush (i see you, nijimura) but he was his first true love, "relationship" and whatever else.

5. back in middle school, sei was 152cm (4'11) and miguel was 167cm (5'5), that's a 15cm (5.9 inches) difference. now, sei is 173cm (5'8) and miguel is 177cm (5'9). i suppose sei barely caught up. as for the age gap, sei is 16 going on 17, while miguel is 17 going on 18.

6. well, both miguel and seijuro have an emotionally distant approach to others, albeit for different reasons. while quite literally everyone follows sei unquestioningly, miguel's reluctance provides an unusual pushback. he doesn't like being ordered around, and makes sure seijuro knows that. he keeps him on his feet, not ever putting him on a pedestal (and then fanboying about him in private but that's another story). they're like a king and his knight -- except the knight refuses to submit to the king and his shenanigans. dog lover × cat lover. milk person × black coffee person.

7. miguel's parents like sei and find him an "excellent role model" for their son. sei's father, however, thinks of miguel as just one of sei's friends from school. that is not masaomi's main focus. miguel resents him.

8. sei takes the lead in social situations, often being the one who initiates chats (he's secretly a yapper.). they're both introverts, but miguel is way more introverted than sei is. they share the same friends at rakuzan (mibuchi, kotaro, nebuya and chihiro) but miguel is strangely uneasy when it comes to being with the rest of the kiseki. he is friends with midorima and momoi, but finds it difficult to strike a conversation with the others. they're not on the same level basketball wise and it makes miguel feel a little bit out of it.

9. that depends on who's fronting. oresei is not the jealous type, but bokusei is extremely possessive. he matches miguel's freak, i suppose. oresei is confident enough not to mind that kind of thing...miguel is extremely insecure. bokusei is just naturally jealous. they're working through it.

10. [i don't quite understand what this question means. apologies.]

11. seijuro. seijuro does that. no questions asked.

12. they're extremely open about pretty much anything, sei can always tell when miguel is hiding something from him, and when it's the other way around, miguel always gets a gut feeling. though they're not the type to hide things.

13. miguel. he feels as if sei is just wasting his time on him and will eventually move on and find someone better, which he knows he wouldn't be able to handle -- but that's how he feels anyway. i mean, have you seen akashi seijuro? how did i even manage to pull such a human...? of course, he doesn't let sei know about this insecurity of his. but he doesn't need to. seijuro knows and reassures him all the time.

14. "once more to see you" by mitski, "amor de ganga" by miguel luz, "once upon a dream" by lana del rey are some of the songs in our playlist...

15. there's not a recurring argument but miguel often gets very worried with how much pressure seijuro puts on himself. he doesn't like it when sei stays at school until dawn working or when he has no time even to eat...they've had an argument before about sei's perfectionism and how it's affecting his life negatively and sei took notes. he's trying to fulfill his duties in a healthier way...

III. LOVE

1. miguel said "i love you" first, (ore)sei is the one saying it more often. i have a strange relationship with the word "love" so i don't go around saying it without meaning it...miguel is trying to become more confident in using strong words.

2. quality time, acts of service and words of affirmation.

3. miguel tries to make pick-up lines land and fails miserably. when it comes to cheesy gestures, he likes buying sei flower bouquets. after the game against jabberwock, miguel went up to seijuro and gave him a bouquet with red camellias, dahlias, white roses, red gladiolus and white chrysanthemums.

4. they cuddle almost every night at the rakuzan dorms, when everyone else is asleep. it's like the world has stopped spinning and they have all the time in the world to give to eachother. when it comes to pda, they don't do it much due to the private nature of their relationship.

5. it's often sei who initiates the kisses. sei's favorite spots to kiss: miguel's nape (where he has the tattoo), cheek, lips, shoulder. miguel's favorite spots to kiss: forehead, knuckles, lips and neck.

6. they like playing basketball, watching movies together, trying different restaurants together and playing chess against eachother.

7. sei is better at providing comfort. neither of them are very emotional, but sei always manages to make miguel feel safe -- he also tried to give advices to "solve" whatever problem miguel is facing. miguel, on the other hand, tries to distract sei whenever he's feeling down. he knows that sei's head can be quite the dark place to be living in, so he tries his best to get him to focus on something else.

8. they prefer verbal affection because it's something that they're able to do wherever, no matter the circumstances; but they've grown to appreciate physical affection too, even though it's mostly just hands on one's shoulder, slight hand brushing and timid hand holding. they're afraid of society ok. let them be.

9. what reminds miguel of sei: the sun, cats, the color red, gems / stones, gold, roses, the smell of cinnamon. what reminds seijuro of miguel: paintbrushes, silver, the ocean, clouds, the moon, apples and the smell of vanilla.

10. they like everything about eachother. they admire especially eachother's mental strength -- since both of them have disorders and are sort of "fighting their own demons", god knows what that means. seijuro likes the way miguel looks absolutely done with everything and everyone at all times, something about his aura just screams "i want to go home" and sei lowkey digs that. on the other hand, miguel likes seijuro's imposing nature and leadership. he admires the way he is confident about who he is -- and wishes he could be as confident as sei.

11. what miguel calls seijuro: sei, captain, aka-chan (when it's bokusei), or simply seijuro. he is kind of shy with petnames. what sei calls miguel: dear, my love, my knight, miguel-senpai or simply senpai.

12. sei has the memory of an elephant. miguel has the memory of a goldfish. he cannot remember anything.

13. miguel tends to be the first apologizing -- probably because he usually is the one in the wrong. sei has his arms crossed with an imposing expression, but he relaxes, gives him a faint smile and walks up to him, kissing his cheek. "alright. that's better."

14. the protectiveness scale would probably look like: bokusei > miguel > oresei. both miguel and seijuro tend to eachother's wounds...

15. miguel buys sei flowers (that seijuro keeps hidden in his room) and books, since sei likes reading a lot. sei likes getting miguel art supplies and he bought him a designer pen once. miguel can't even mention that he likes something without sei IMMEDIATELY wanting to buy it.

IV - DOMESTIC LIFE

[ au where they're 19 and 20 in college, and sei plays in the nba (lakers)]

1. both of them have a say in the decorations, but sei is quite minimalistic and miguel is into way too many medias not to decorate the fridge with shadow the hedgehog magnets. their house has some portraits of them together as well as some pictures of shiori, paintings that miguel has done all over the walls and pictures from places they've visited together.

2, 3 & 4: questions about marriage, weddings and children make me extremely flustered so i'm afraid i cannot answer them. might make a separate post about this au...

5. they're both breadwinners. sei makes loads of money from playing in the nba and miguel also makes a decent amount from his job as a psychologist. miguel cleans and sei cooks.

6. hmmm, i don't know...i don't think so. the pets stayed at miguel's parents' house and they often visit them.

7. miguel worries the most. seijuro is quite calm most of the time. he knows not to stress himself.

8. seijuro really dislikes bugs and quite literally demands for miguel to kill them.

9. that obviously depends on the holidays but (boku)sei is VERY festive as we know. months before the holidays, he is already prepared. be it dressing up, decorating the house, whatever, sei is absolutely ready. don't even mention christmas near him.

10. seijuro wakes up early and mi always convinces him to return to bed. seijuro succumbs, obviously.

11. sei doesn't move an inch when sleeping. it's almost as if he's dead (he sleeps like a man in a coffin) and miguel moves while being asleep, hogging the blanket to himself. by that time though, seijuro is already asleep and doesn't feel the cold. miguel is also the one brushing his cold feet on sei's leg. still sei doesn't move an inch. he looks as dead as a rock. and when it comes to cuddling, they tend to switch! (boku)sei has a preference for being the little spoon but other than that, they're pretty versatile.

12. miguel, he really likes to dance at parties and drags sei around. it really isn't like miguel to be so hyped up about anything, so sei dances along with him with a content smile on his face. they sing their favorite songs. it's their happily ever after.

13. they often visit sei's mother at the graveyard and leave her flowers -- then they return to water them everyday. it's common for sei to do this after he wins a game. also, after a game, sei and miguel go to a restaurant to celebrate the victory. then they walk at night while they talk about whatever's their heart's content. playing chess against eachother has also sort of became tradition to them.

14. miguel's the type to do that. "i don't know, you choose" even though he does have a place in mind and simply wants sei to guess. and seijuro always gets it right.

15. miguel drives, seijuro gives directions.

oh my GOD, this was long.

— ship questions redux (by myself + @newbordeaux)

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

What was their first impression of each other?

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

What was their "flirting stage" like?

How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

II. GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did they go about it?

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

What was their first kiss like?

Were they each other's first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

What is their height difference? Age difference? Do either matter to them?

How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

What is their relationship with each other's families like?

Who takes the lead in social situations? How are they around each other's friends?

Who gets jealous easier?

What are their parallels, whether in their personalities or their histories?

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear in public?

Do they hide anything from each other, big or small?

Which one thinks they aren't good enough for the other, if at all?

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

What is their most common argument about?

III. LOVE

Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation?

What are their primary love languages?

Who uses the cheesy pick-up lines, or does corny gestures?

How often do they cuddle or engage in PDA?

Who initiates kisses? Where is their favorite spot to kiss each other?

What are their favorite things to do together?

Who is better at comforting the other? How do they usually comfort each other?

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

What reminds them of each other?

What do they like best about each other?

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Who remembers the little things?

How do they make up after an argument? Who is the first one to apologize?

Who is more protective? Who would get into a fight to defend the other? Who tends to the other's wounds?

What gifts do they typically give each other?

IV. DOMESTIC LIFE

When they move in together, who gets the most say in decorations? What do they each have to have in the house?

If they get married, who proposes, and how do they do it? Would they change their surnames?

What is the wedding like? Who attends?

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like as parents? What are the kids like?

Are either of them the "breadwinner"? Who cooks? Who cleans?

Do they have any pets?

Who worries the most?

Who kills the bugs in the house?

How do they celebrate holidays?

Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Who hogs the blankets or takes up more than their fair share of the bed? Who puts their cold feet on the other? Who are the big and little spoons?

Who likes to dance with, or sing for, the other?

Do they have any "couple traditions", or family traditions?

Who is the one who always says "I don't know" when the other asks where they want to eat?

Who would drive, and who would give directions?

[jmliebert]

♡ Halsin Being Love Smitten by an Oblivious Tav ♡

Oh, this is a good one. Halsin — strong, confident, experienced — brought to his knees by one thing he never saw coming: your sheer, unrelenting obliviousness. It’s hard to make him baffled, but you did. You actually made him baffled. Incredible. 

He’s lived for over three centuries. Seen countless wonders, taken many lovers, and faced horrors that would break lesser souls. Nothing has caught him off guard for the longest time it would seem. And yet you have. Because somehow, despite his very clear interest, his smoothest moves, and his voice dropping into that deep purr — you simply don’t get it. Not one bit. 

And by Oak Father, it really do baffles him. 

You see, he feels it every time you walk by — a rush of warmth in his chest, the unshakable need to be near you. He listens to your every word, even your stillest ramblings, with rapt attention, laughing easily and freely in a way he hasn’t in years. It feels good to be close to you. It feels right. And he’s wise enough to know exactly what that means. He is, without doubt, utterly and completely love smitten with you… and Halsin is many things, but shy is not one of them. So naturally — he courts you. 

At first, subtly, slowly… intending to take full pleasure from getting to know you better in that kind of way. A lingering touch here, a playful tease there, a deep-chested chuckle whenever you say something endearing. Surely you’ll catch on. 

You do not. 

You smile at him. You laugh, you listen, you seem happy to be around him. But not once — not once! — you show any sign of realising that he likes you more than a friend. (oh, so much more)

Is he being too subtle? Surely not. Halsin is experienced. He’s seen things. He’s been with partners who could read his desires from a single glance, and here he is — flexing like a fool whenever you so much as glance in his direction, hoping you’ll notice. 

And Oak Father help him, he’s trying so hard. It’s like he isn’t himself anymore. He feels like a young pup wandering into unknown territory. 

So… he finds excuses to touch you. Offers a steadying hand when crossing a stream (as if you’re not perfectly capable), lets his large hands linger on your waist a fraction too long when lifting you over an obstacle. Getting all worked up from the mere brush of your knees. 

One day Halsin brings you fruit he’s foraged with a casual,

"If you desire more, I am always at your service.”

"You really do take good care of everyone," you say, eyes shining with pure, unshaken obliviousness. The words he wants to say—I would much rather focus my care on you specifically—catch in his throat, swallowed down by a sigh. Somehow, faced with your innocence, he just can’t bring himself to say it.

Has he lost his touch? Is he truly so out of practice? He has never worked this hard to make his feelings known. And worse—he’s starting to feel things he hasn’t in years. Frustration, longing, an almost feral urge to just grab you by the shoulders and tell you outright.

By the gods, he is horny and in distress. And he’s been horny many times, but in distress like this? No. However… Halsin is not a man who simply gives up. Not to doubt, not to hesitation—and certainly not when it comes to you. Not when he’s waited lifetimes to feel this way again. Not when he’s finally met someone who stirs the very roots of his being.

So, no more subtlety, no more lingering touches. No more charming lines that you so sweetly misunderstand. One evening, with all the weight of a man on the brink, he levels you with a look, strong arms crossed over his chest, and says in a tone that leaves no room for interpretation:

“Tav. We need to talk. And this time, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what I mean.”

Because by the Oak Father, if you don’t realise how desperately he wants you after this conversation—he might just lose his mind.

So he takes you away—away from the crackling campfire, from the idle chatter of your companions, from the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. He leads you to a quiet, secluded glade where the trees arch overhead like ancient sentinels. The stars shimmer above, casting silver light over everything, but Halsin?

Halsin is radiant.

He stands before you, broad and strong, his golden skin illuminated by moonlight. There’s something different in the way he looks at you now—an intensity, a quiet, unshaken resolve. And then, in a voice deep as the earth itself, he speaks:

"I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine…”

Your breath stutters. Your eyes widen, because suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The lingering touches. The flirtation you had brushed off as simple kindness. The way his gaze always seemed to find you, the way his presence felt like a steady force in your current life, constant and unwavering. It was never just friendliness. It was never just admiration.

It was this.

It was him wanting you.

The weight of his words sinks into you, slow and heavy like honey pouring thick from a jar. He isn’t teasing. He isn’t jesting—Halsin is far too earnest for that. His kindness, his unwavering dedication, have only blurred the truth for you. But now, there is no mistaking it. There’s no lightheartedness in his tone—only intention. Only want.

The words roll off his tongue like a promise, rich with meaning, with want. His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it—an unmistakable need. His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savouring every second before he touches you. And when he does—when his large, calloused palm finally cups your cheek—your breath catches.

His warmth is immediate, grounding, real. He’s so close now—too close, not close enough. His golden eyes search yours, darkened with something primal, something deep and unspoken. He’s looking for something—truth. An answer. A silent permission for this moment to become something more.

And gods, the air between you is alive with it. 

Will you give it to him?

That choice—that power—is yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

again, thanks for this lovely request

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

[odileeclipse]

Had a funny idea based off the shanigans...imagine shadow milk x y/n x pure vanilla but well...an alternate of the crazies lol. Different anon so this can be its own series...say y/n is the type of shy person to be overly cautious and has two lovers...one who is safe and caring and trying to get them to be a bit more social while the other is daring yet also caring and trying to make y/n live a little!

While pure vanilla is gently coaxing them out of their shell and trying to keep them safe...shadow milk is trying to get y/n to be a little more daring, to live a little! Get that adreline flowing...so I can imagine the fun struggle between the two...both wanting y/n to get out of their shell in different ways. One wanting y/n to spend more time with fellow cookies while the other is trying to get y/n to he braver lol...can imagine funny convos between shadow milk and pure vanilla. Both talking about the other's approach to y/n and other stuff lol!

Between Light and Shadow

The silver glow of the moon bathed the garden, petals drifting in the evening breeze. You stood between two forces one warm and steady, the other elusive and sharp. “My dear, you need not rush,” Pure Vanilla’s voice was soothing, a gentle balm to your cautious heart. His golden eyes shimmered with kindness as he cupped your hands in his. “The world is vast, yes, but you do not have to face it all at once. We can start small perhaps attending a gathering? A place where you can feel safe, yet still take a step forward.” A soft chuckle slithered through the air, curling around your ear like a ghostly whisper. “And yet, they will never truly be free if they only take steps upon paths already paved.” Your breath hitched as Shadow Milk’s presence coiled around you, unseen yet so very there. His voice dripped with amusement, a murmur from the unseen corners of the night. “Come now, little petal… doesn’t your heart ache for something more? A taste of the unknown… a thrill you’ve never dared grasp?”

Pure Vanilla’s grip on your hands tightened ever so slightly, his warmth grounding you. “They do not need deception to grow, Shadow Milk.” Shadow Milk’s laughter was low, curling like smoke. “And yet, you would have them walk only beneath the sun, where all is safe and known.” His shadow stretched toward you, a whisper brushing against your skin. “What of the unseen wonders? The truths hidden in darkness? Wouldn’t you like to know?” Your pulse quickened, torn between the sanctuary of Pure Vanilla’s touch and the tantalizing pull of Shadow Milk’s words. Pure Vanilla sighed, his voice laced with patience. “I only wish for them to grow without fear. Not to be lured into reckless abandon.” “Fear?” Shadow Milk hummed, his voice curling at the edges like silk. “Or hesitation? There is a difference, dear Vanilla. And you know it.”

You inhaled deeply, then finally spoke. “What if… what if I tried both?” Silence. Shadow Milk let out a short, amused chuckle. “Oh? Both? You surprise me, little petal.” His grin widened, his mismatched eyes gleaming. “You wish to bask in the sunlight and dance with shadows? How intriguing.” Pure Vanilla tilted his head, considering your words. “Balance is important, but are you certain? I would never wish for you to be led into danger.” You nodded firmly. “I don’t want to just hide away forever, but I also don’t want to throw myself into things I’m not ready for. Can’t I have a little of both? A little safety, a little adventure?” Shadow Milk smirked. “Oh, I like this. You’re finally starting to break free from that cautious little shell.” He leaned in closer, his voice dipping into a whisper. “How about a test run, then? There’s a fancy banquet happening tonight. I say we sneak in.”

Pure Vanilla blinked. “Sneak in?” He sighed, already weary. “Shadow Milk, that’s hardly the kind of outing I had in mind.” “Oh, I’m sure it isn’t,” Shadow Milk purred. “You’d rather take them to a safe, dull gathering full of polite conversations and predictable outcomes.” “That ‘safe, dull gathering’ ensures no one gets thrown into danger,” Pure Vanilla countered, his expression exasperated yet fond. You giggled at their back-and-forth before slipping your hands into both of theirs, squeezing gently. “How about this? We go out together, enjoy the night, and see where it takes us. No reckless sneaking in… but also no hiding in a corner the whole time.” Pure Vanilla softened. “That… is a reasonable compromise.” Shadow Milk hummed. “Not as fun as my plan, but I’ll allow it. For now.” With an excited flutter in your chest, you tugged them along, stepping into the lantern-lit streets. The night was young, and with the warmth of Pure Vanilla’s kindness and the thrill of Shadow Milk’s mischief, you knew you were in for an unforgettable adventure.

[meelusinee]

Fem!reader x Mattheo, who had given her the Amortentia potion,can be smut or something like one of the teachers/students realise somethings up

LOVE'S WORST ENEMY | M.R X READER

word count \ 3.8k | not so fluff | slash / mattheo riddle / fem!reader

in which mattheo uses amortentia to get his girl

minor cw & tw: use of amortentia (which is considered drugging) & manipulation

You had never liked Mattheo before.

That wasn’t to say you disliked him, or that you hated him. Rather, you just never truly knew him well enough to like him.

Mattheo was Slytherin’s signature rugged bad boy. A prankster that walked the line of ‘too much’ like it was an already snorted line of cocaine and he wanted more. He had friends that were high up as well. Pureblood aristocrats who had millions in their family wealth. His reputation had been built for him by the time his name had been called for the Sorting Hat, and he seemed to love playing into what everyone thought was true.

And you? 

You weren’t known at all. Or at least, you weren’t known like that. Just a regular student who tried to live a regular life. A little better than average grades, and a couple of close friends, though not much more than that. The most you were known as was Hermione Granger’s quiet friend, though barely anyone knew you two even talked in the first place. 

Which led you confused as to why Mattheo had decided you were his. You weren’t even sure how it started. You supposed it was the tutoring. 

Mattheo could feel his heartbeat against the paper he was holding. 

It was beating so hard he could feel every palpitation inside his veins. He had never felt this way before, had he? Nervous was not a word that was in his dictionary. He had the impulse control of a raccoon with rabies, he hated the concept of nervousness like a rabid dog feared water. 

Which is why he hated that you made him this way. 

You, a regular student. Granger’s quiet friend, maybe a bit of a high achiever. A tutor in Charms, Transfiguration and now Potions. 

Just regular. Normal. 

So why was he so attracted to you? He didn’t know. 

And he hated it. Hated that he had no control of the situation, Hated that you probably only knew him from his reputation. He could treat you so well, he knew that. Any date that you wanted, any gift that you were promised as a child and never got. Absolutely anything. 

But you didn’t know that. And he hated not having power over that. 

So, instead of slowly making you fall in love with him all while knowing you might never truly love him, like a regular person would, he decided to go through a faster route. Amortentia.

Which led to him failing his recent Potions exams about Amortentia. 

It was a simple plan. Fail anything relating to love potions until Slughorn hunted him down. Stare at him with those eyes that seemed to scare the professor into allowing anything that Mattheo wanted, and then ask to be tutored by you. After that, he’d say yes. Mattheo knew he would say yes. 

And he knew that he’d get you alone after that.

“Excuse me,” Mattheo whispered, a small slip of paper laid in his hands as he stood next to your desk in the library. You had notes scattered around, some almost falling off the desk. “Are you Y/N?”

You looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, completely innocent and unknowing of the entire world. It was absolutely adorable to say the least. “Yes?”

“Good.” he said, holding up the small slip of paper. “Slughorn paired us up together? Tutoring?”

You looked at the slip in his hand confusedly. You had indeed offered to start tutoring for Slughorn, but you hadn’t been told that you were meant to be tutoring someone just yet. Though, Slughorn was paying you, so you weren’t complaining too much. 

“What did you need help with?” you asked him curiously, taking the slip with those smooth hands of his. They looked so small, so delicate. He couldn’t wait to feel them melting against his chest.

Mattheo shrugged simply. “Amortentia, I think.”

You nodded and chuckled at that, closing your book and sitting up a bit straighter. “It is a hard potion, especially the time it takes. Do you have everything you need for it?”

He smiled a bit sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t know what I need.”

You looked at him before shaking your head. “That’s probably why you need tutoring.” you chuckled, pulling up a list from your pile of notes spread across the desk. “I have a list here, you can ask Slughorn for the materials. He should still be in his office right now, he only goes to his room after sundown.” you muttered, handing the list to him. “Come back after, okay?”

“Thank you.” he nodded and smiled quietly, looking down at the list before walking off. Mattheo could feel your eyes on him. He wasn’t sure what you thought about him. 

Maybe you thought that he was quiet, or weird. Or maybe you already knew of his reputation. Would that be a bad thing? He wasn’t so sure. He knew that his soft tone and his smiles would make you question what you knew already. And he knew that you were going to be more forgiving then most people would.

And that’s exactly what he needed. 

He sighed as he looked down at the list, a small smirk growing on his lips as he saw the ingredients he had months memorizing. 

1 piece Bdellium 5 Flutterby Bush Flowers 1 sprigs Knotgrass 3 Lacewing Flies 1 drop Lethe River Water 6 Mistletoe Berries 1 measure Pearl Dust 1 measure Powdered Asphodel Root 2 measures Powdered Unicorn Horn 4 drops Rose Oil 6 Rose Petals 1 cup Standard Potioning Water

Mistletoe berries were easy to grab. Pearl dust could be modified to be more potent. Mattheo was sure that Theodore had a rose that was raised more potent than three, and the Unicorn Horn was easily acquirable as well. He was sure that he could modify the ingredients to make it more potent, to make it longer or stronger whenever someone took it.

When he would make you take it. 

He chuckled under his breath and pocketed the list of ingredients, already knowing exactly what he was getting himself into. His heart was racing in his fingertips, though this time it was full of anticipation. 

“I have a gift for you.” he muttered quietly.

You looked up as Mattheo approached you with a small box of chocolates, a small smile growing on your face as you saw him. Mattheo and you had been hanging out more often ever since he started being your makeshift Potions student. 

He was a good guy. You didn’t care what everyone else said about him, because you knew him better than they did. Sure, he was rambunctious, but what teenager wasn’t? He was kind to you, and he listened much more than anyone else ever had. His friends were nice too, albeit a bit harsher compared to him. Reckless womanizers that threw money on alcohol and impulse spendings that made no sense to you. You knew it didn’t care that it didn’t make that much sense to you though. 

“You got a gift?” you asked him with a small smile. 

“Mhm.” he smiled at you, handing you the gift. “Chocolate.”

You gasped quietly as you took in the box as a whole. It was a heart shape, a box that had been painted pastel pink with lace glued on the edges. The chocolate seemed homemade, not quite from the beginning but enough to seem homemade to you. There was a small note on the back of the cover, which stated that they were made with a caramel filling in the middle. “Wow.”

Mattheo chuckled quietly, looking at you with a small smile and a look in your eyes you couldn’t quite place. “Do you like it?” he asked quietly.

“I love it!” you said excitedly, eating one of the chocolates almost instantly. “Oh my, that’s delicious.”

Mattheo sat down next to you with a small smirk planted on his face, watching you eat the chocolates one after another. You didn’t seem to care much about anything else other than the chocolate in the moment, though you also knew that was nothing more than a moment-level fixation.

He had made them himself, after all.

You had helped him brew Amortentia, finishing your group potion just last week. What you didn’t know was that he had memorized every single step and made his own in the dungeons after he left the library every night. What you didn’t know was that he had inserted it into the chocolate. 

“Does it taste good?” he asked you curiously.

You nodded your head and giggled quietly. “It tastes really good, actually.”

He hummed at that, ruffling your hair before looking down at his watch. “I have to meet with Theo and Blaise, but I wanted to give those to you first.” he smiled at you. “Can we meet up later?”

You looked up at him with a look in your eyes that almost made him crumble at the sight. It was absolutely innocent and adorable, the picture perfect representation of everything that he had fallen for. He felt his resolve crumbling in that moment, wanting nothing more than to stay there with you forever. But he had to resist the urge.

Otherwise, his potion wouldn’t work.

“Yeah, we can do that.” you smiled quietly at him. “If the library’s closed, we can meet in the Astronomy Tower right?”

He nodded. “Mhm.” he said, kissing the back of your hand again. 

“Okay.” you said, nodding and giggling as he kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll see you later.” he whispered back. He could already see a new look of him forming in your eyes, he could feel the way your heart was beating inside of your fingers.

This would be fun.

You felt different.

Your heartbeat was beating faster than you ever felt it beat, and you had escaped from the library early to hide inside of your dorm room. Your body was hot, sweating especially near your hands. You weren’t sure if you were sick, if you would have to cancel your plans on Mattheo due to some fever.

Oh, Mattheo.

Anytime you thought about Mattheo, you felt all of your symptoms worsening. You weren’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. And you also weren’t sure what you were going to tell your roommates either.

Especially Hermione.

“Y/N?” she called out, looking at you with a small frown as she noticed you laying in bed. You were meant to be studying in the library with her right now, though that wouldn’t work if you weren’t exactly there. “Are you doing okay? You weren’t in the library.”

You nodded before shaking your head. “Uh, I don’t know. I’m really hot right now.”

“Do you have a fever?” she asked you curiously. “Or any other symptoms?”

You shrugged your shoulders, clearing your throat as you sat up. Your cheeks were flushed warm and your body was shaking slightly, though it only seemed like that whenever you thought of Mattheo. Did he have some sickness he accidently gave you? There was a chance he was asymptomatic.

“Uh, I’m really hot.” you muttered. “My palms are sweaty. And my heart’s beating really fast.”

Hermione frowned at that, placing her books on her bed and walking over to you. “When did your symptoms start?” she asked as she placed her hand against your forehead.

“Anytime that I think about one of my,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “One of my friends.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at that. “Whenever you think about someone?”

You nodded your forehead. “I think that he might be asymptomatic. We’ve been hanging out recently for tutoring, he needed help with potions.”

“Has this been recent?” Hermione asked, one of her eyebrows raised. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, looking up at her as you saw the small upward tilt of her lips. “Okay Mione, what is it?”

She chuckled before shaking her head. “Could it be that you might be in love with him?”

You looked up at her confusedly. Blinking once, twice.

Could you be in love with him?

“Maybe.” you whispered quietly, nulling it over in your mind. Mattheo was a good person, wasn’t he? Just misunderstood, certainly. He always listened to you, he made you feel happy. Something you could never place your finger on. But maybe that thing was love.

Could it be love?

“Are you going to hang out with your friend later?” Hermione asked you, watching you nod. “Maybe you can test out your theory there then.

You nodded quietly. “Maybe I will.”

Mattheo was already sitting in the Astronomy Tower when you got there, though you made sure to keep your steps extra quiet when you climbed up. You wanted to observe him first, to watch him when he wasn’t being perceived by you. You thought it might help your theory.

Yet all it did was make your heart beat erratically.

He was absolutely beautiful in the moonlight. It shined on his hair perfectly, the small lantern he had brought showing off every single freckle on his arms and face. You wished that you could make a constellation out of them. Fingers trailing up and down each scar and mark.

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of it when you realized Mattheo was now standing right in front of you. “Mattheo!”

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, hand moving to caress your cheek. You could feel your heart thumping at the feeling. “You look rather zoned out.”

You shook your head out of its daze with a small smile, walking past him to sit down on the small blanket he brought for the both of you. “Thank you.” you smiled.

“Course,” he said with a chuckle. “Anything for you.”

You felt the pitter patter of your heart rise even more, a flush covering your cheeks. Anything for you?

“I don’t think I got to ask if you finished the chocolate.” he said to you. His voice sounded like raw honey that you would cover a sweet treat with, something that would melt down your throat. “Did you like it?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. “Loved it.”

Mattheo smirked, in a way that you had never seen before. Almost like he had a plan or something going on behind those brown eyes. But you seemed to lose yourself in those eyes before you could realize what the smirk really meant.

“Y/N?” he called out again to you, eyebrows furrowed as you zoned back to reality again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You keep zoning out.”

You felt your heartbeat in your fingers at the concern in his voice. He genuinely cared about you. And that alone made your cheeks flush warmer and warmer until everything was spilling out of your mouth. “You make me feel sick.”

Mattheo blinked for a moment before looking at you once more. “What?”

“My heart feels like it’s pounding out of my chest,” you whispered quietly. “And my face is always warm. I can’t stop myself from sweating even though I hate sweating. And my stomach has these weird butterflies too.”

Mattheo’s face was confused for a moment before a wide smirk broke out on his face, chuckles escaping his throat before he could stop them. “You think you’re sick?”

“Yes!” you pouted. “So don’t laugh at me.”

Mattheo shook his head before leaning closer, close enough to where you could see how full his eyelashes really were. They almost made you jealous. “Y/N,” he whispered quietly. “You sound like you’re in love. Not sick.”

“That’s what Mione said.” you grumbled quietly.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t my second opinion mean it’s truthful?”

You looked at him with the best pout you could muster. That seemed to be enough for him, as his hands cradled your face and his lips gently locked onto yours.

This, you thought, is what heaven must feel like. 

His lips were soft and sweet, something you couldn’t seem to get enough of. And his tongue felt like it was yours with the way it slotted so well into your mouth. You didn’t mind the faint taste of blood from a busted lip he had gotten from a fight some time ago, especially since your senses were running on overdrive from the scent of his perfume running your head heady.

He pulled away all too soon, eyes locking on yours. “You’re a rather nice kisser.”

You smiled softly at that, teeth biting your lip as you looked at him. This was your first ever kiss, and it was absolutely perfect.

You didn’t want to change it for the world.

Hermione was observant. 

That was a trait she prided herself on quite frequently. Whether it be her keen ability to think of a spell almost as soon as the situation needed it, or her ability to observe others from an intellectual standpoint. Anything textbook was something she could figure out easily.

What she couldn’t figure out was why you were acting so differently.

Ever since you had confessed that you were in love with someone, she had noticed the signs. You came back that night extremely dazed with marks along the side of your neck and legs. She didn’t question then.

You’d skip out on your study sessions from time to time to hang out with whoever you were so in love with. She didn’t question then. Nor did she question the ‘dazed’ look you’d get in your eyes whenever she mentioned the existence of your lover.

That wasn’t until she learned it was Mattheo.

She was sure that she wasn’t meant to know. Your curtains were mostly closed, though they were open enough for her to tell his figure from anywhere. 

And that left her mind whirring.

Hermione had heard rumors about the Slytherins learning Amortentia potions for whatever reason that Slytherins needed to learn Amortentia for. She never questioned it at first, for she thought it was a good potion to learn about. Knowing about Amortentia meant that you knew about the signs of poisoning and how to prevent it from escalating further.

And Hermione could easily see the signs within you.

The dazed look in your eyes. The infatuation you had suddenly gained with no knowledge of it before. The way you broke rules to nurture the love. Case in point, somehow sneaking a male Slytherin into the girl’s Gryffindor dormitories.

And Hermione was already getting sick of it.

So much so that she decided to confront you.

“Hi Mione!”

Hermione looked up to see you walking towards her with a small smile, teeth marks and hickeys plastered clearly on your neck. Those were the same marks that girls used to have when Mattheo would hook up with them almost two years ago. Hermione found it quite ironic that they seemingly stopped one day.

“Mystery guy again?” she asked.

You nodded, and Hermione noticed the look in your eyes almost immediately. It was the same look Ron had gotten when Romilda had tried to poison Harry.

“Who is your mystery guy?” she asked you confusedly. “You talk so much about him, yet I never figured out who you’re talking about.

You looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, quite obviously confused. “I thought I told you?”

“No, you didn’t.” she said.

“Oh!” you said before shaking your head. “It’s Mattheo! He asked me out, that one day I thought I was sick.”

Hermione felt her eyebrows furrowing at that. “Mattheo?”

“Mione,” you whined. “He’s a good person. Just because his parents suck doesn’t mean he sucks.”

“The fact that that is your opening leaves me concerned.” she said sternly. “Are you sure he doesn’t have you under some potion?”

“He wouldn’t drug anyone!” you said, ignoring the librarian’s hush that echoed through the library walls. “It’s not my fault that everyone seems to judge him. If you got to know him, maybe you’d understand.”

“Y/N,” Hermione sighed, closing her book. “I’m not saying that because of his reputation. I’m saying that because I’ve noticed the signs in you.”

“What signs?” you asked incredulously.

“The dazed eyes, the lovesick puppy act,” she listed off. “The fact that you’re breaking rules to sneak him into our dormitory. Literally everything.”

You just rolled your eyes at that. “That means nothing.”

“Weren’t you tutoring him on Amortentia when you met?” she asked incredulously.

“That means nothing either.” you spat, standing up with your bag in hand. “I’m going somewhere else to study.”

“Y/N!” Hermione said, unable to grab her books in time to catch up with you leaving the library.

This wasn’t going to end well.

“Mattheo!”

Mattheo turned his head as he heard the sound of your voice, his mind echoing as he repeated it over and over in his mind. There was something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

You had tears running down your cheeks and a quivering lip, almost like a kicked puppy. He felt his heart breaking at the sight. 

He cooed gently as his hands guided you to his lap, pressing kisses against your temple, cheeks and lips whenever he could. You almost immediately melted into his lap, hands wrapping around his body instinctively.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked again.

You sniffled. “Hermione thinks that you drugged me.”

Mattheo felt his body stiffen slightly, though he didn’t want you to catch that. “Why would she think that?”

You rolled your eyes before going on to explain the situation, how Hermione had listed symptoms of the Amortentia potion and how you ‘apperently’ fit the box. Mattheo didn’t want to say that you did fit the box, that he had drugged you with Amortentia. What he did know was that he would have to do something about Hermione after this.

“I’m sorry love,” he whispered gently.

You huffed. “It’s just not fair how nobody can see you for you!” you muttered. “You wouldn’t do that, right?”

“Never.” he lied, with such a conviction that even the universe might make it true. “I would never do that to you, my love.”

“Good.” you nodded before sniffing again.

Mattheo hummed and kissed the tip of your nose again, pulling out a small flask of his drink. “I know you don’t drink often,” he whispered, opening the flask and letting you sniff it. “But do you want a drink right now?”

You looked at the drink before nodding, taking the flask from him and drinking as much as you could in one gulp. Mattheo chuckled as his thumbs caressed your waist, loving the slightly pink hue that your eyes had taken.

He also didn’t mind the new hickeys that appeared down your neck that night either.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

well this was quite a fun prompt! i know that this was technically a smut request, but i have a moral thing against love potions being influential in terms of romantic or sexual intercourse (if anyone is curious, i can so make another post about that) and i doubt i'd be very good at representing SA in a harry potter fanfiction, so there isn't any smut for this one. however! i did find this fun to write, knowing that this is just fiction. so thank you for the request anon! u can read part two here!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a lovely day!

[222col]

MISC BOT DROP by @ 222col ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

notes: enjoy a random mix of bots, some new characters for me so any feedback is welcome!!!! lil nervous about the new characters so pls don't judge me too hard xx thank u for all the love as always my angels <3 reqs are always open, send them into my asks or here <3

ART DONALDSON (challengers) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( bad babysitter )

꩜ lily loved you. art was so happy to have some help post-divorce. what he never expected from his beloved babysitter, was for you to take lily to get her ears pierced without his permission. art's pissed, but boy does he look good tellin' you off. ( req )

ART DONALDSON (challengers) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( lost in translation )

꩜ time in toyko creates some new feelings for art. he's lonely, away from his wife, back on tour for the first time without her, just this time without the tennis rackets. his new commentary gig has brought him to japan, and to you. ( inspired the film 'lost in translation' (2003) )

TASHI DUNCAN (challengers) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( pretty girls )

꩜ pretty little straight girls. they'll ruin your life without even realising it. you thought tashi was no different, another crush you'd have to force yourself to get over. until she tells you if she ever tried it, she wanted it to be you. ( inspired by 'pretty girls' by reneé rapp )

TASHI DUNCAN (challengers) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( party 4 u )

꩜ you were down bad. you were down so horrifically bad. starting a fight club at college to get her attention bad. you have no idea how, but somehow it worked. tashi finally learnt your name, and even came to the party that you definitely didn't throw just for her. ( inspired by the film 'bottoms' (2023) )

LEE (bones and all) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( lick it up )

꩜ lee fuckin' loves kiss. he'd push down any temptations in a crowd of people just to hear lick it up live once in his lifetime. although, you were giving him different kinds of temptations once he spots you in the crowd.

KEITH TOSHKO (barbarian) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( airbnb blues )

꩜ you should have just turned around and found a hotel somewhere. the state of the neighbourhood should have told you everything you needed to know. too late now, you're already stood telling the stranger you've been double booked with that you'll stay. smart move, babe.

ROMAN GODFREY (hemlock grove) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( babytrappin' )

꩜ roman loved you so fuckin' much. he'd rather die than live without you. thing is, he needed to find a way to make sure you never left him. and well, roman wasn't exactly known for taking the conventional route. he needed to get you pregnant, just without you knowing. ( req )

ROMAN GODFREY (hemlock grove) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( sweet as sugar )

꩜ sweet as fuckin' sugar. only way to describe you, roman couldn't stand it. you and your words like honey, always ignoring how fuckin' mean he was to you. it was driving him crazy. worst thing is, roman couldn't decide if he wanted to kill you or kiss you. ( inspired by this post by @vadersangel )

PETER RUMANCEK (hemlock grove) ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

✮⋆˙ ( lost puppy )

꩜ peter was obsessed with you. even his subconscious seemed to know that. he just wished his subconscious would stop it's need to follow you everywhere like a goddamn lost puppy. peter doesn't even know he's doing it, until he snaps out it in a place he doesn't know. god, how embarrassing. least you haven't caught him... oh, you just did. ( req )

[thevoidscreams]

Could you write something about Vulkan? Preferably smut. I love this loving and massive super-human :3

Year 2 day 1

warning: smut and Vulkan being the GOAT (I love him so much)

Also the emperor being a good dad. Which is shocking. I know.

Word count:2966

'I heard that she's the wife of a primarch' 'she doesn't look like anything special to me' 'How long have they been married? and not a single child to be seen.. odd wouldn't you say?' 'Really it's an embarrassment that the emperor's own son would marry someone so.. common. There's nothing special about the girl at all.'

Your hand clenched around the stem of your glass as you tried to ignore the whispering around you. High Lords and nobles mingled or fought for the attention of your husband or brother's in law.

Vulkan was engaged in a very lively debate about something or another with his brother Ferrus, who seemed as though he would much rather be having the conversation anywhere but there.

Well that was certainly a mood, everything about this "party" blew, and not in a fun way. Why were they even having this party? Was it a celebration? A birthday maybe? Fuck if you knew, it just seemed like a prerequisite anytime more than two primarchs were back on Terra.

"You do not seem to be having a very good time." The speaker had come up behind you, which shocked you, you hadn't noticed anyone approaching. "Oh yeah, I'm not big on-" your voice faltered as you finished turning and saw the Emperor and two of his custodial retinue behind him. He was the height of an above average man at the moment and he was smiling down at you with a knowing sort of expression. "S-sorry, I um, I didn't mean any offense by that."

"It is alright, you are not required to be overjoyed by every gathering you attend. And I too admit that I would rather be elsewhere. But it is not a good look politically to decline every invitation."

"No, I suppose not." You smiled, and his demeanor shifted to a more fatherly one. It was hard to describe how exactly he did it, but suddenly the air between you both was far more at ease and comfortable.

"How have you been finding your marriage to my son?" You hadn't spoken in a few years, not since the wedding, so the question didn't surprise.

"Well, when he isn't actively campaigning or forging or teaching his sons, I must say I've never been happier. He is a wonderful man and I love him so much." You explained. The Emperor nodded and smiled. "I imagine you must be lonely when he is away." He supposed. "Sometimes, but his sons are good company and I always feel safe when they are around."

"Good, that is good." He seemed thoughtful. "Have you considered sons or daughters of your own?"

Luckily you hadn't had any drink in your mouth or you might have spit all over him as the suddenness of his question struck you.

"We've talked about it. I have no opposition to it, neither does he." You explained. "It's just that he's been rather busy and we haven't had much time recently." Your cheeks felt hot and it wasn't the drink causing it, that was for sure.

"I see. Perhaps he should take some time then, he has been doing well and I do believe he has earned it."

"Goodness, that would be nice, but I fear nothing short of you ordering it of him would take him from his work. He's so dedicated and there is so much expected of him."

Your father in law seemed to digest the words and nodded. "Well then, the hour is getting late and it is about time I start seeing my guests off. Would you like an escort to see you back to your room when you are done with socializing?" He motioned to the Custodes to his left and you fought back a gasp.

"Oh, no, thank you really, but I'm sure they have more important things to do than look after a grown woman."

His smile softened a shade and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "You are married to my son, that makes you my daughter now, that makes you a very important individual. It would not be out of line to assign one to you to see you safely across the palace."

Well, it seemed the decision had been made for you as he made a brief motion to the golden clad warrior and bid you farewell, leaving the custodian to watch over you. Though the armored giant didn't say anything as they took their post beside you.

Vulkan had concluded his conversation with his brother when he felt drawn to the other side of the room. Most of the guests had trickled out by now, very few were left, but he was delighted to see his father had remained. Motioning his son over, the primarch did as his father bid, going to his side. "Father, I am glad to have a moment with you. How have you been."

"Well, but there is a matter of importance that I wish to speak of with you."

~

The looming presence behind you was as intimidating as it was protective. Even if you knew the way back and knew that the palace was likely the safest place in the whole universe, the Emperor had ordained it and thus you had another very large guard keeping you safer than imaginable. They preceded you into the room, checked it and then allowed you in before standing guard outside the door.

'Stay on post with her until Vulkan returns.' Was the silent order they had received and so it would be.

The primarch of the Salamanders did not return for almost two hours. Well into the midnight hour. He greeted the custodian as he entered. Shutting the doors behind him and locking them.

Rousing from your sleep at the sound you were glad to see the man you loved so dearly. "Vulkan, my dragon, I missed you."

He chuckled as he disrobed and joined you in bed, kissing the top of your head. "I was gone but a few hours my flame." His strong arms pulled you atop his body and he peppered your face with kisses. "I know, but it was still too long."

His smile could have melted the ice of a frozen death world. It was so warm.

"My father pulled me aside after the party." He explained, which caught your interest.

"I see, is everything alright?"

"He has taken me from my duties to the crusade. There are other matters he wishes me to attend." His hands slide down over your hips.

"Really? That's so odd, I was just joking earlier that the only way you could be taken away from your duties in the crusade would be if he had ordered it."

Vulkan hummed, his hands gliding up to squeeze your ass. "Yes," he rumbled against your throat, "what do you think he took me off active duty for?"

His words sent a jolt down your spine and a bloom of heat between your thighs.

His lips worked over the tender flesh there, kissing and sucking as he grinds his hips up into you.

"Apparently I am to tend to my needy little flame, and I am not to return to duty until we have a little spark of our own." His voice deepened in the way it only ever did when he was giving an order or intensely aroused.

"And since I have you here and you're awake now," his hardened length pressed to your entrance as he continued to flex his hips. "I figure now is as good a time as any to get started."

"My love~" his fingers quested down to begin preparing your body for him. The warm press of his finger against your already wet hole made you shiver. He rubbed tight circles as he adjusted his cock just so his every movement would grind it against your clit.

"Fuck, Vulkan, I need more."

He smiled and continued his slow torture. "Why rush, we have all night?" He replied, his teeth worried little trails of his love into the flesh of your shoulder. You knew you'd have marks to show for it later.

"Please, Vulkan, please!" You begged as the pad of his finger pressed in slightly but pulled away again.

"Are you sure? After such a long day I figure you'd need some time to unwind before anymore rigorous activities. Why not let me take care?"

You whined in response as his thick drooling cock pressed just right and made your hips reflexively jerk. "Throne damn it Vulkan. Please, I need you. I've needed you all day and especially during that stupid party."

Vulkan shifted, he raised his hand to lift your chin so he could look at your face properly.

"What happened?" His tone was serious, his burning eyes searching your face for any signs of harm, but he only found upset.

"Just nobles being stupid." You sighed but the biting words that tore you down still rung in your mind despite how hard you tried to push them out.

"It's nothing, I just.. I'm being too sensitive about it."

He shook his head. "No, tell me, I will see that this is handled. What did they say to you."

"That's just it, they didn't say it to me. At least not to my face, they didn't all their tearing down behind my back, but I could still hear them."

Vulkan kissed your cheeks. "What did they say?" He asked again, more gently this time.

You knew you had to tell him now, and so you did, all the shallow and awful comments. You felt like a child again, tattling to the teacher when the other kids were bullying you. "Like I said. It's stupid, and I shouldn't have let their words get to me."

"None of their words are true." His hands squeezed your hips gently. "They're jealous, I married the most wonderful woman in the universe and they are unable to handle such a truth." He kissed the side of your face and neck affectionately.

"I wouldn't say the most wonderful, that's a bit much." You replied, holding in a giggle as he attacked a particularly ticklish spot.

"Are you calling me a liar?" He grumbled into your cheek. "No, just an over-exaggerator."

He growled and the sound went straight to your pussy as his hold turned more firm. "Why does my own flame doubt me so terribly?" "I just don't think I'm worth the praise." You breathed as he growled again. "Who do you trust more? Your husband? Or the jealous nobles who live and thrive off gossip and tearing others down to retain their station?"

"You, of course."

"Good, then trust that by morning you won't remember anything they said to you or about you at that unnecessary function." He promised, and his finger took its place from before circling your entrance, except this time he pressed it in.

You moaned softly as he gave you time to adjust. But only just as he began to move his finger, making you squeak and wiggle back into his hand.

It was almost absurd how easy it was for him to drive your mind blank. "Just relax my flame, I will take care of you."

Another finger brushed against your soaking heat and you knew he was going to push it in even before he did it. He needed to ensure you were thoroughly prepared before he could just take you. When he pressed it in there was no sting or burning as there had been when you first were growing accustomed to him, but you did feel full, fuller than any other source, save for his cock, could provide. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, his voice warm and deep as he praised you for taking his fingers so well.

He continued to press kisses to your hair and face as he pulled his fingers free causing you to whine at the loss. "I was so close." You grumbled as he raised his love slicked fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a deep groan. "Oh my flame, you grow sweeter each time I taste you." His massive hands hauled you up his body further as he settled you over his face. "I believe I will need another taste." He swallowed and a quick glance over your shoulder revealed his hard throbbing cock. The first lick was so inhumanly hot, but his body was always like that. He moaned as he went back for another swipe of his tongue. His hands slid down to hold your hips, pressing you down on his mouth further and you relaxed your weight onto him the way you knew he liked. He rewarded you with another long lick before he plunged his tongue into you. You had been so close from just his fingers and you found yourself teetering on the edge again as he fucked your pussy with his mouth, groaning in pure ecstasy as he drank down every bit of juice you provided. "Vulkan," you gasped, "I'm gonna cum love. I'm gonna..." Your body shook and your thighs clamped around his head as he growled in satisfaction, his burning eyes blazed up at you as he watched you fall apart. His growl morphed to a groan as you came on his tongue and he lapped up every drop.

Carefully he laid you down next to him, his body shifting over your as his cock strained between his legs. "My flame, I can not wait any longer." You reached for his face cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss. "Then don't, please my Dragon, I need you as well." He gave you a flash of the ice melting smile and kissed you deeply as he pressed his cock to your entrance. "My love, you are so much more than anyone could ever dream, and I intend to show you just how much you mean to me. Tonight, and tomorrow and the day after and so on until you know just how deeply I love you." His cock sank slowly into you, inch by inch as he professed his love, until your body had stretched to allow him to sink almost impossibly to the base. "You see. Perfect, just as I said." His hand sought yours, holding it gently as he raised your fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to each one as he pulled back his hips and thrust back in. He had to show you just how much he loved you even when making love. The bed groaned under you as he thrust again, the feeling of being so full of him was electric, each thrust making little stars dance behind your closed eyelids.

He kissed one of your knuckles, thrusting in hard, but not enough to harm. "Kind." He murmured softly, thrusting in and kissing the next. "Intelligent." He murmured again, moving to the next. "Funny." He repeated the process, for each knuckle he kissed he listed another thing he adored about you. "Loving, beautiful." When he reached the last knuckle he turned your hand over, kissing your palm. "Good with my sons." He gave you a sly smirk at that one, knowing that you always got flustered when they referred to you as 'mother'. Trailing kisses up your arm he continued his compliments until he got to your collarbone, where his lips sealed against your skin and he marked you, leaving a hickey that would be near impossible to miss without a necked shirt or sweater. He looked over the mark and once satisfied he smiled and began his kisses again. The whole while he had been going at an even and maddeningly unhurried pace. "Please, I need you to go faster, I'm getting close but I just need more." You whined, begging him with not only your words but your eyes. "Eager." He said as he left another kiss, this just next to your lips. Teasing you. "Please Vulkan, Please." He wouldn't admit it allowed in the moment, but hearing the way you cried his name as he was thrust into you as deep as he was drove him mad with lust. It had been a battle to keep his wits about him as he heard each little whine or moan. His lips finally brushed over yours, "Most of all," he groaned as his arms scooped under your body to hug you closer to him. "I adore you for being yourself, I could not have married a better woman." His lips pressed to yours and you met the gesture with equal enthusiasm. It was then the damn broke and he was barely able to keep from slamming into you and potentially hurting you, but his thrust picked up, his need to fuck you properly over coming him as he let his need take over in setting the pace. His mouth moved with yours now swallowing your moans and cries as he fucked you into the bed, his arms still holding you close as the bed creaked louder in protest. He felt himself get closer and you were there with him, pussy clenching as you fell apart, your arms tightening around his shoulders as well, as you used his body to keep yourself grounded. You both came, your body milking his cock as he did and his thrusts continuing to ensure you properly came undone beneath him.The primarch spent the next several minutes kissing you, his small wife, as you basked in the afterglow. He hadn't pulled out and he didn't intend to. After all, his father had told him that he was to stay off active duty until such time as you had conceived and given birth and he intended to use that time to the fullest.

[grandline-fics]

For Valentine's event! I'm so deeply in love how you write, especially Doflamingo!! So maybe, True love's kiss for him?

Anyway thanks for your works they're all amazing 🙌💕

DESCRIPTION: True Love's Kiss- The moment they realise they're in love

WARNINGS: none (at least I don't think so, other than the fact is about Doflamingo)

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 1,420

A/N: At first I was tempted to link this to Immune To Your Charms but then decided against it so we could have a different version of Doffy and another version of his realisation he's capable of love. I hope you enjoy what I came up with for this for you anon. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

Doflamingo thrived on the adoration and unequivocal loyalty of his family, his most trusted elite officers in the inner circle ready to throw their lives down should he simply say the word. The rush that would flood his system when his subordinates and civilians bowed low before him took him flooding back to his short lived days in his rightful standing as a Celestial Dragon; it’s never quite the same that his nostalgia had preserved in his memory but it's as close as it’ll ever get. The only other thing that ever came close to giving him a surge of true satisfaction and happiness is when you, one of his best and most precious officers, would throw him that sweet smile contrasting with that sharp and dangerous gaze of yours and greet him with a smooth “Hello Doffy.” 

He could always count on you to see to it that any mission he gave you was executed perfectly and without hesitation. Not only did you take pride in your efficiency and skill but seeing it recognised in a man like Doflamingo mattered to you too. You knew that Doflamingo’s trust and reliance on you had nothing to do with the fact that you were Doflamingo’s current lover. As it was, you understood your place in the whole situation, just as you’d witnessed with his previous entanglements.

It was only ever going to last as long as your King wished it to. Should anyone else ever catch his eye and attention and he wished them to warm his bed instead of you, you would be cast aside in that regard. You came to terms with that long ago and idly part of your mind always wondered when that day would come so you enjoyed what you had for as long as Doflamingo wanted you that way.

One morning you were summoned to his office for your latest mission. Wordlessly you accepted the information he handed over to you and began to read it over while listening to his every word. “Seems someone’s been pushing their nose into places that doesn’t concern them. That’s the most recent location we could learn so it’s likely they’ve moved on already.” He explained, his sinister grin in place. “I know it’ll be no issue for you to track them down and taking care of them before returning home to me.”

“Sure you don't want me to take my time?” You asked curiously, finally lifting your head with your own smile curving your lips. “You normally enjoy it when I make them suffer first.”

“You’ll already be spending time away in search of your prey, my dear.” Doflamingo explained while rising from his seat to step around the desk to stand in front of you. Never needing his strings to make you move or respond in the ways he wished, you simply always knew. Keeping your eyes on his face, you turned to face him, stepping back until the desk was now behind you and his hands settled on the wood to playfully cage you in. “I’d much rather have you go and kill and come back, otherwise I’d just miss you too much.”

For the smallest moment his words threw you off but you quickly controlled your expression. Unfortunately you weren’t fast enough and it hadn’t gone unnoticed to Doflamingo. Lifting one hand away to pinch your chin he made you look firmly at him, refusing to let you go until he got answers out of you. Doflamingo knew you wouldn’t have to force it out of you. The second he asked, you’d answer. “Now what was that look for? What could I have said to possibly create such a face?”

“Just surprised my absence would have such an affect on you.” You explained calmly, your smile returning. “There’s plenty here that’ll keep you company if I take too long. Speaking of, with your permission, I’ll go straight away Doffy.” Doflamingo regarded you silently and moved his hand from your chin to thread his fingers into your hair and pulled you in as he leant forward to capture you lips in a harsh, bruising kiss. Under his lead, you effortlessly followed the pace and intensity of the kiss, only breaking apart when he allowed it to. Breathless and dazed you could only stare at Doflamingo when he released you, offering a small but determined nod when he ordered you to complete your mission as fast as you could.

——

Two weeks went by and still you hadn’t returned, leaving Doflamingo to feel restless. Uncomfortably so. He had been receiving updates from you steadily up until a few days ago, everything in code and brief but you hadn’t given him any signal that something was wrong. You were closely on the heels of your target who you were certain you’d catch up to soon. Doflamingo had no doubts about your abilities, you were one of his best so he knew you’d get the job done but still something was annoying him about it all. He was also unshakable in his knowledge of your loyalty to him, there was no way you’d leave him but he still needed to know what was causing his agitation. Thinking back to the day you left he remembered the look of genuine surprise that captured your usually self-assured features when he spoke of how he’d miss you. 

Your little comment about others keeping him company also hadn’t gone unnoticed by him either. Truth be told now that he had the time to think about, you had lasted so much longer than anyone else had as his lover. Those that came before you held no true interest with him, simply attractive things that allowed him to satisfy his needs before he kicked them out of his bed and sought his next source of entertainment in another person. You held his every attention, staying close to him even without having to give your body or touch to him. It was you he wanted and he had meant what he’d said when he said he missed you when you were gone, only now he seemed to realise just how much. 

Two more days passed before you returned to Dressrosa’s Palace, walking slowly and tensed. At your arrival in the entrance hall, you saw a few servants hurrying in different directions most likely in search of Doflamingo to let him know. You didn’t know why they bothered, he was going to be the first person you sought out to report the success of your mission and apologise for taking longer than you should have. You were only halfway up the staircase when Doflamingo appeared at the top, watching you climb the last few steps until you were beside him. 

Carefully he inspected your face. You looked exhausted, dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders slumped slightly. You were barely staying awake, he could see the steeled focus in your gaze as you were determined to remain conscious enough to greet him with an attempt at your usual sweet smile. “Hello Doffy. Sorry I took longer than intended.”

“Was the mission successful?”

“Mhm.” You nodded before covering you mouth to yawn. “Target was a nuisance though.”

“In what way?” Doflamingo lifted you effortlessly into his arms and carried you to his quarters.

“Devil Fruit user.” You explained with a mumble, a small hum of contentment breaking from your lips when you were laid down on his bed, sinking against the pillows. Doflamingo tilted his head curiously at that revelation. Had he known that the target had an ability, he would have ensured you were better prepared for that. Doflamingo felt relief wash over him to see you’d been unharmed, knowing better than anyone how monstrous Devil Fruits were, and made sure that in future you would be better prepared so there would be no surprises like that on your missions. “Doffy? Why am I in your room?”

“I had your things moved here while you were away, of course.” He chuckled watching you struggle to open your eyes to look at him in confusion. “It seemed as though you had a lapse in awareness about your standing with me. Your place is beside me always and there will never be any room for anyone else. Understand, love?” For emphasis he pressed a tender kiss against your lips.

“I understand.” You hummed softly, the loving smile gracing your lips suddenly securing itself in Doflamingo’s regard as something no-one else could ever come close to competing with.

——————————————-

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[sheepispink]

hi bb, this is incredibly self-indulgent, but I have a very big idea for ur Ghost and his Sergeant. I'm terrified of the ocean so ofc I need her to be nervous over this mission that's by the coast. she's never said anything bc it's never been necessary, but she can't hide her nervousness from Ghost tho he doesn't pressure her to say anything for now. so when they're done w the mission, they all decide they'll take the next day off, and it's a given they'll go to the beach, right. I need her to be nervous but she's like, chill, staying away from the ocean, until the guys lift her up and she's like rolling her eyes until she realizes they're taking her to the ocean w quick steps, and suddenly she's SCREAMING bloody murder, and Ghost gets his head out of his ass (bc he was buying idk ice cream or a drink idk), and runs over when the guys set her down on the sand, trembling and tearing up, unable to stop herself from being weak and AHHHHHH ur writing would make this cuddle session so fucking GOOD

UR MIND IS LITERALLY AMAZING BECAUSE THIS?? THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA

anyway, as promised, plenty of fluff, plenty of comfort, very yummy story (i hope)

enjoy!!!!!

WC: 4.1k… (😧)

————-

Missions tended to blend into each other when a soldier got too comfortable—an autopilot you were happy to live with for a long time. Though, that was before you were promoted to a Sergeant which still felt like yesterday no matter how long ago it had been. You had soon learned that no day would ever be the same, especially after you were properly taken into Lieutenant Ghost’s unit, rather than the occasional team-ups. It was a big change that’s for sure; it’s not the difficulty, but rather having to prove your worth to a whole new unit. At least your old unit you were pretty much leading; this was like starting from the bottom again, in a way. It shouldn’t prove to be too hard, considering your reputation was holding up nicely.

However, you did have a small weakness; everyone did though this was one that you definitely didn’t want anyone else to be aware of any time soon. So, when the news of another mission came around, you were positive it was something you could handle. Until the news came that you’d travel by ship, having to stay on it for at least two weeks. It’s not even like you had time to process the news, bundled into a truck as you travelled down to the coast. You’d be travelling far, tracking down some bombs that are being transported on a number of different cargo ships travelling across the Atlantic ocean. More importantly was figuring out if they were actually active bombs or rather just sitting ducks–either way, it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately. Considering you had completed a course in demolitions, of course you were immediately necessary for this, so there wasnt even any backing out now. Thankfully, there was a chance you wouldn’t even have to cross over the murky waters, safe on the ship instead. Still, there was no guarantee that nothing couldn’t go wrong.

Ghost wasn’t stupid, he could clearly see just how hunched your shoulders were in every conversation, no matter where you were around the ship. He sees your small flinches everytime a small wave slightly shifts the floor beneath your feet, or the larger ones that spray onto the deck whilst you’re surveying the surroundings. Not even you can hide the quick darts of your eyes each time a small rumble of thunder sounds out overhead nor the teeth marks in your lips when you look out the window for a little too long. One thing that he couldn't possibly ignore, was the widening of your eyes and the anxious tap of your foot as you slowly filed out of the briefing the day before you departed. The only question was to confront you or not. After all, everyone has a weakness and yours may not even be that serious to compromise the mission. It seemed on the same level as getting mad at someone for being woken from a bad dream, or at least he didn't want to embarrass you by possibly blowing it out of proportion.

He was right for the most part, and you had completed the mission as expected– even if your heart was practically pumping out of your chest when you had to cross to the cargo ship and assess the crates for any trace of explosives. Since it was growing closer to summer, he figures the unit may as well stop over by the beach that’s only a one hour drive from the port. Your fellow teammates are excited of course, and so are you, happy to be on ground again even if the ocean will be metres away; anything was better than hovering above it though. As soon as you arrive, a few of the guys drag you along to a local shop, all of you filtering through the aisles to find the best floaties and water guns available.

Ghost leans against the car with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot like a father with his rowdy kids. So since you all act like children, he counts down from ten, watching you and the others scurry and scramble into the seats of the cars. It’s almost laughable at how you all look, pool noodles around two soldier’s waists, water guns gripped in one of the other’s hands and wait– who put a bucket and spade in the boot?

Free for all, except this isn’t the battlefield, no it’s a damn beach and once your feet touch the warm sand, all of you are dispersing into different directions. Ghost looks around, trying to figure out where everyone went in the five seconds he turned to grab the cooler bag, only to see you lounging on a sunbed. He has to admit, he was curious as to how you’d navigate a situation like this with your clear fear. But now he can only scold himself as he slowly approaches you, your head turning before you beckon him over with a wide grin. You’re a trained soldier, you’ll be perfectly fine.. right?

He drops his duffel bag down beside you, getting comfortable on the sunbed as the others run along the beach like bumbling fools. Accidentally he must’ve let out a scoff because you laugh, turning to look at him as his brows unintentionally furrow. “What? They’re runnin’ around like they’re six.” He says gruffly, trying to get comfortable on the small and flimsy sunbed but failing when he realises both his legs barely fit.

“You’re just boring, skullface.” You know he hates that stupid nickname, but it just motivates to use it all the more. Still, his eyes are more focused on the nervous tap of your fingers against your leg, your jaw slightly clenched as you look out at the soldiers running around near the water.

“Oh? I don't see you making sandcastles.. or splashin’ around either.” He watches you freeze at his last words, his eyebrows slighlty beginning to furrow in deep concern. You were so far from the water, practically at the top of the beach but you still looked agitated, like you were just managing to glue it all together.

”Hmph, I'm relaxing before I beat all of you in snooker tonight.” He highly doubts that’s even slightly possible, but you’re quite adamant on the former as you stretch out and get ready fro your midday nap. Of course, how could he forget your daily necessity? Regardless of that, he sticks firmly by your side, satisfied that you werent so nervous that you wouldn't be able to nap peacefully— or maybe that was because he’d scare off anyone in a 5 mile radius just with that mask alone. He settles on watching the waves lap until he gets bored enough to aimlessly scroll on his phone, unable to find anything to captivate his attention long enough. Damnit, you were rubbing off on him. After stealing your book for a bit, the heat of the sun finally sets on his nerves and he heads towards the small bar, looking for a cool drink. Just before he leaves though, he adjusts the umbrella above where you lay, a little worried that you’d overheat in your sleep but your head feels fairly cool against his hands, for now at least.

Footsteps, they’re soft in your ears muffled by rocks that are kicked. There’s small snickers too, coming from different directions and no matter where you try and run to chase one, they always appear right behind you again.

Splashing, it’s colder now, a breeze washing over your body and making you shiver.

Strain, your arms feel tight, as do your legs, like you’re being stretched like those stupid toys that were always advertised but you never actually got.

“Is she up yet?” A voice says, so close yet so far.

“Nah, still out.” Accompanied by laughter.

A splash of water on your face has you attempting to sit up only to fail immediately, your wrists locked in a tight hold, ankles kicking restlessly. “What? Who—?” Your head turns frantically, confused and instinctively wanting nothing more but to be free.

“Chill out, we’re just giving you a little diving lesson.” The soldier who you’d giggle with on patrol holds your legs, laughing at your shocked face. As you look around, you realise the fellow soldiers you’ve shared meals with for two weeks have kidnapped you from your napping spot, carrying you somewhere.

It’s fine, they’re your friends, they wont hurt you.

“Hey! I was sleeping very peacefully y’know.” You huff, playfully though still half awake, rolling your eyes as you slacken your protests.

”Yeah, drooling too.” The one holding your wrists laughs as the one walking alongside them pinches your cheeks. Damnit, they’re so damn annoying all the time arent they? Ghost’s right, they’re like little kids with the way they ran straight into the ocean—

Ocean?

Your head snaps to the side, managing to strain your neck only to see that the one holding your legs has already stepped towards the shore, water now splashing gently onto the sand beneath you. “Hey— wait, where are you taking me?” You’re thrashing around now, panic bubbling in your throat as your nails press into the soldier’s hand, scrambling for them to let go. “Oh come on, just a small splash.”

You hate their laughter, you hate this, you hate having to watch the waves rise over his foot as they carry you in, your heart thumping louder with each second. “Let me go!”

They don't listen— why wont they listen?

The water is up to his ankles, too high for your liking and you’re not scared anymore— you’re fearing the worst. Images flash through your mind, the horrible splashing of their steps louder than the pounding in your head.

You kick, wriggle, squirm, anything and it’s useless— why is it so useless?

Their steps are making droplets splash on you, the water is growing higher, ready to consume and you’re cold, too cold even with the sun burning through you. Cold with soaked cheeks.

Ghost hears the screams first, so high it almost sends him into a frenzy only nightmares have brought him crumbling to. He doesn't think, spilling the can of coke without a second thought as he runs over, sand kicking up with each heavy step of his stupid army boots he wears all the time. The crowd of soldiers are shoved to the side by his hands, carving a path directly to you who now sits in the sand right by the shore, trembling so harshly as you pull your knees to your chest, albeit with great struggle. “Woah, woah, you’re okay— you’re not wet. See? Sand, look you’re on the sand.” But you’re too far gone, your hair falling over your face as you hunch over, hands grasping at nothing but the air. Your face is starting to grow wet from the silent tears,trickling down your cheeks and kissing your legs, the wet feeling making you fear the worst has happened.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” His Lieutenant's voice comes back like it never left, the soldiers standing to attention just as fast and scrambling away before they feel the wrath of the man before them.

You’re trying your best to shovel it all in, all the fears but it’s near impossible, not when you can still hear the splashing, not when you can hear the laughter of the kids down the beach. Not here.

“Up we get, come on.” He places his hand beneath your arms and hoists you up to stand, one hand slipping behind your back to rub up and down, trying to get you to your senses. “You’re all dry, okay? Nothing happened, you’re alright.” He’s trying to keep his voice as calm as he can for you but it’s near impossible when you’re looking like that before him, like a person whose nearly missed death. Dammit, you didnt even look this bad when you were shot in the leg, and that was a pool of blood to say the least.

He leads you away from the shore, bringing you to a small cobbled footpath away from all the cafe’s, loud icecream vans and children screaming about needing to pee. His hand continues to rub slow circles, continuously soothing your trembles as he reminds you to breathe in and out. Only when everyone was out of sight did he pick you up properly, hoisting your legs to wrap around his middle as one hand pushed your face into his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you into the car, okay?” Sure he should’ve done that way earlier, clearly by the way your hands were shaking like crazy. But if he knows anything about you, he definitely knows you don't want to make a scene. Being seen as weak is practically the worst thing for you, not that he thought what happened made you weak, but he already knew what you’d be saying if he had swooped you up right then and there in front of everyone.

“Ghost— i..” You begin to sniffle out but he shakes his head, firmly patting your back in confirmation. “Nope. Quiet— don't wanna hear it.” He carries you further down the road, turning into the empty parking lot near a small block of houses. Finally he reaches the car, windows tinted to hide you as he opens the door with one hand, a low groan escaping him before he finally settles you in the backseat. Going around to the boot, he opens it quickly, grabbing a spare towel he brought and rummaging through a bag that was supposed to be for the team’s silly movie night later. Not that he’d participate, but he felt giving them some snacks would be a good mission well done.

Your eyes are locked onto your knees, refusing to look anywhere and your face has dried up, slightly red from how harshly you had rubbed at your eyes. He settles in beside you, about to offer you a drink when you’re clenching the seats, eyes already tearing up once more.

“It’s fine— really, i just- I was just a little shaken, they didn't mean it, I wasn’t properly awake yet and it startled me. ” You ramble between breaths, unable to find an excuse to rebuild your dignity in time but he just lets out a long breath, anger clearly holding back. A soft towel is draped around you, covering your upper half entirely as he folds it over your front.

“You dont need to explain. It’s fine— i dont like the damn beach either.” He mumbles out, not sure how else to express the fury he feels that you had to feel that terrified, more towards himself for leaving you alone when he knew you were uneasy. All he can do for now is place an arm around your shoulders as you continue to quietly sniffle and tremble at the shock and horror you felt in the past ten minutes. You were clearly uncomfortable too, and how badly he wanted to tell you that he didn't care if a colour terrified you, nor a tiny butterfly; he just wanted you, as with the few he really cares about, to be comfortable and happy. Never should someone have to face their fears like that, he knows what that can do to a person. But he can't word it properly, can't express how you’re the strongest he knows and the smartest and every other good adjective in the damn dictionary because you are that. And he refuses for you to believe otherwise just because the majority aren't scared of the same things you are.

Your nose presses into the sleeves of your shirt, eyes scrunched tight as you try to will the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” It’s stern, too harsh, but he doesn't know what else to do, just wanting to wipe that miserable look on your face. “There’s nothing to apologise for.. Do you need me to leave?” He asks, suddenly wondering if you’d calm down quicker if he just left you alone. Of course you would, who would want this stiff man rubbing their back while crappily convincing them that they’re not drowning and just got a scare from a stupid idiotic prank? He could at least speak a bit more, reassure you that whatever you choose is fine but nothing comes to his mouth. You shake your head thankfully, refusing to let him leave you alone.

“Are you annoyed with me?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet, and he hates that you feel this small. You should be smiling and having fun like everyone else, not tearing up infront of your lieutenant who you just barely felt comfortable around— or well, he thought that was the case.

“Never.” He says gruffly and he’s caught off guard when you hug him tightly, one that has him stuttering to breathe for a moment. Though his shock is quickly broken when your sniffles pick up, quiet sobs hitting his chest head on. He wants to complain, beg you to stop crying because not even he can bear to see you like this. But he knows whilst it pains him, you need to let it out for all the weeks you’ve been terrified for and stayed strong. His arms wrap around you just as tight, his chin resting above your head as he feels his shirt wetten by the second.

“You’re stronger than me.” He murmurs quietly, one hand gently rubbing your shoulder as he just sits there, letting you take whatever ounce of comfort you somehow receive from him. “You could’ve given up long ago but you didn't. How could I be mad at someone who's worked so hard to keep the rest of us safe even when they didnt feel safe themself?”

Oops. He might’ve made you cry a lot harder with that one, and his eyes widening show his momentary panic as he tries to soothe you again, tucking you as close as possible.

You settle a while later, pulling away just enough to wipe your reddened eyes. His eyes are softened as he looks down at you, partially glad he doesn't have to burn alive in the sun anymore and can just spend time with you in this car.. though it’s warming up pretty quickly. You seem to have the same thoughts as him because you look up, unable to stop a little smile crawling onto your lips. The sight is bright, even the tears in your eyes making them sparkle more than usual. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” He asks, hoping you’d keep doing that a little longer.

“You’re sweating like crazy..” You’re half tempted to snicker, but it comes out more like a sniffle and he just lets out a breathless sigh, rolling his eyes as he squashes your cheeks. “I do all this and that’s what you say? You’re a minx, yknow that?”

Well, he supposes it is your day off, and he’s restless as it is anyway. So, he pretends to huff at you, even if you see past him instantly, and slides out the seat beside you to get into the driver's seat. You follow, climbing into the passenger seat and he straps you in before you can even try. He rolls down the windows after he starts driving through the town, letting the summer air refresh you all while he’d occasionally look over every time he got caught in a little traffic. . But you looked like you needed a moment to gather your thoughts and yourself, so he’d give you that, for now at least.

He takes you to the nearest mall, hunting down one of those ice cream shops, but not something basic, no, that’s just boring. “Amorino?” Your voice is muffled by the skull mask he reluctantly let you borrow— but you looked uncomfortable walking around with the tear stains still on your cheeks, so he relented quickly.

“Pick your flavours.” You get your two favourites, picking them both until he urges you to pick another, not that you can decide. “Can't you just pick your favourite for me?” That’s how you end up with a cone in your hand, a pretty flower shaped ice cream right on top with each of your flavours curved into petals. He sips his milkshake, watching as you stare in complete awe as you both walk through the mall. “How— what? This is sick, Ghost!”

“If you keep staring at it, it’ll melt before you even try it.” He watches your eyes go wide, quickly licking up the sides to catch any melting parts before instantly grinning at the overwhelming sweetness. “This is like— top tier!” Though he does end up facepalming when you grip his sleeve tightly, groaning about a brain freeze.

He lets you try out the crappy claw machine games, and then even tries on one Hawaiian shirt all while you’re giggling so hard you almost trip over. He has to hold your wrist after that, but you don't complain, using it as an opportunity to drag him wherever you want, and he follows.

It’s almost seven pm, and he takes you back to the hotel since you and the team planned to get dinner. He still had to have a virtual briefing with Price, so you would be on your own for this one. They’re waiting for you in the lobby, the three culprits from before standing anxiously. “I’ll be in the car, on the phone to Price and the others.” It’s a silent offer, giving you a chance at any time to return to where he is and sit in the back if you need to get away for whatever reason. He’d prefer to be beside you, but at least this gives you a safe way out. “Alright, thanks. I’ll head in now— just make sure you grab something to eat too? Okay?” You give him a smile, before you awkwardly step inside the hotel, approaching the others. Ghost’s hands tense, fists clenching as he watches for any sign of the idiots acting up again. Thankfully, they learnt their lesson and they immediately apologise to you, frowns on all their faces before lighting up when you extend your forgiveness to them. You were scared they’d laugh at you, but Ghost knew that they saw you like a little sister— even if they were absolute idiots sometimes. He decides to leave you after watching you leave the hotel with them, heading for a restaurant down the street as you link arms with a female soldier you know, grinning.

It’s late when he hears a soft rap at the hotel room door, confused at who could possibly knock at this hour. “It’s me, Lt.” Werent you supposed to be watching movies with the others?

“Come in.”

You open the door with the keycard he gave you earlier, dressed in your pajamas and with a bowl of popcorn in your hand. Quietly you walk over to where he lays on the bed, settling on the other side as you place the bowl between the two of you. This is how it goes for the next twenty minutes or so, you scrolling through your phone and watching stupid videos as you nibble on the popcorn all while he continues to read his book, occasionally grabbing a piece of popcorn just to keep you happy. It only ends when he catches you yawning from the corner of his eye, one, twice and thrice. “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.” He hums, flicking to the next page as he continues to read but the words aren't really going to his head in the slightest, his mind fixated on you.

“Hm.. okay.” You sigh, before placing your phone onto the bedside table and tucking yourself beneath his blankets, now watching him from your

position smushed against his pillow.

“You have your own bed, Sergeant.” He states, raising a brow but he’s particularly careful not to lower nor raise his voice, keeping it central as he looks at you and closes his book.

“Hey, you said I was welcome if it was an emergency.”

He did say that, perhaps a long, long time ago when you first came bundling into his life before he even knew you that well. Besides, it’s not like he planned to actually kick you out. So for now he just lets out an empty scoff, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth before turning the lights off by the switch. The room is shrouded by darkness and you look around, wondering where he went, when two arms wrap around your front, bringing you forward against his chest. “Don’t make me regret this.” He says gruffly, but you know he doesn't care all that much, and he knows that your playful facade is trying to hide the trembles that still linger in your hands when you hear the ocean lap outside your room’s window. Tonight, he’s holding you tight and never letting you go; he’d be found dead before he ever lets anything snatch you, whether that be the ocean, someone, or even fear itself.

———

COD masterlist

[asfateentertwines]

Look I know we’re not getting shit with the episode count now a days but obsessed with flashbacks to the people the ghosts loved in life. Like let them haunt the narrative PLEASE

Janet whose father spirals, always thinking of how he could have saved her if he forced her to stop. Getting worse and worse, doubling down on his beliefs even as he crumbles. Her brother, forced into the role she dreamed of. Knowing that every step he takes leaves her bloody footprints behind him. How she feels so forgettable but her shadow has been at every one of her family’s shoulder for decades. Her father dying at the hand of incompetence and feeling her fingers dig into his flesh knowing she would have been great. That his faith in a twisted falsity won’t forgive him. The eyes in the fire burn their skin and scorch their pride.

Rhonda who so clearly left love behind. Her best friend seeing her in every blur in her peripheral. How the lyrics turn acidic in her mouth, how she hears a snort and “seriously, cherry pop?” every time but her voice is so, so hoarse. How the gravel in her own burns like hands on her own skin. Rhonda who stuck her classmates to the core. It had to be her fault, had to be, or else it could be them. Or it could be theirs. Rhonda who is swept away but holds an iron grip on their shoulders. Who watches over every failure with the surety that she would have been better. Her parents, crushed under the loss of the only good thing they ever did. Marjorie’s voice lingers and generations feel her fingers over their throat; a lost mystery that drags them forward.

Wally being the fragility of their own lives. Untouchable and above it all, dying in an instant with a broken neck and the promises he was made. The future they were so sure he had, the way he could have made it. But no one knew him. Every story is empty, every memory wrong, he’s forgotten even with a thousand retellings and a blaring stadium named after him. His mother standing in the moment he had. Lost in a split second loop even as decades move past her. How he moves on before they do, haunting because of what they lost in him and no one remembering what he lost for himself. A life lived and mourned for others.

Charley who was swept under the rug. Who no one wants to think of. Who makes them consider their cruelty, they humanity. Who died surrounded by people, knowing they coaxed him into death with kicks and laughs. How an accidental death with no murderer is still a trial of human cruelty. Emilio, aching for years at his own naivety, trying to be better, to make it better for the next Charley. Except Charley is always there (actually this time) and he still can’t hold on. Moving on and feeling every breath stolen from someone else’s lungs. How one boy meant nothing and said so much about people who never saw him. His parents, asked the question of would they rather a dead or gay son but knowing there was never a choice cause they were one and the same and maybe that’s their fault. Emilio holding his husband, seeing baby Charlie on the monitor, knowing a part of him will never not be 17.

Idk if any of this made sense but just give me the people left behind, let them have an impact. I’m losing my mind

[nellasbookplanet]

I think my favorite aspect of Imogen as a character is how she consistently chooses to empathize with and seeks to understand the outsider, even if - or perhaps even especially if - they are viewed as scary or dangerous. The most obvious example thereof is of course her relationship with Laudna. Not only did she choose to befriend and travel with someone who's strange, undead, scary, and the vessel of an evil necromancer, she chose to step up and defend Laudna against her home village despite never having met her before and knowing nothing about her, simply because she saw someone being targeted due to scared people making a snap judgement based on assumptions of the undead. It isn't that Imogen decided Laudna was harmless and innocent (again, she didn't know her at the time), but rather that she saw no one else would as much as slow down to give her a chance.

We see this aspect of her many times in the campaign. She lets the strange little mushroom people of Ruidus take her by the hand and lead her into their scary tunnels. She meets the all minds burn, a scary hive mind entity, not with fear or apprehension but with a willingness to understand. She's one of the strongest proponents in arguing that FCG, an automaton not viewed as a person by the general populace, has personhood and a soul. When facing Predathos, she does so with empathy, and when she releases it at the end she doesn't tell it to fuck off but kindly and even mournfully lets it know there's nothing left for it here. Part of her epilogue is working with emigrating Ruidians, who've lived under oppression and are viewed with suspicion by Exandrians, to help them find a home and belonging.

This aspect of her is also one of her greatest flaws. While it makes her empathetic toward the outsider, it often leaves her suspicious of or judgmental towards the "normal" and accepted, because for much of her life those who are normal never made an effort to reach out to or understand her due to their fear of something not under her control. She will reach out to the strange and scary, but will also turn around and say she isn't sure she wants to save the gods because they don't love her. She will extend understanding to Laudna to the point that Laudna runs straight into the arms of Delilah's temptations of power thinking Imogen will accept this regardless of the harm. She repeatedly questions if the Ruby Vanguard, which is seeking something which will drive an entire people extinct and put the entire world in jeopardy, is right, because many of them are misunderstood and mistreated outsiders like her.

In the end, she makes great strides in extending this empathy even to those who aren’t outsiders, who aren't like her. She's the one to suggest the gods go mortal in an attempt to save both them and the people of Exandria. She sees the gods' actions in Aeor yet views it with understanding. She reaches out to her father before the final battle, and tells her mother he deserves better. Imogen is a balancing act of snap judgements based on past harm and the choice of empathy, and it was at once heart-warming and terrifying to see her grapple with this.

[yingdu-lover]

We should really be more empathetic to Lu Guang from every perspective

Started my proper season 1 re-watch just now and suddenly I realised something.

Every time Lu Guang repeats his rules to Cheng Xiaoshi or he reminds him while the latter is diving, there is something in his voice (I felt it personally) that tells me he also repeats to himself (It is same as him repeating "I am okay" in Yingdu ep 1, but this is more cruel) It is not a question of hypocrisy, rather its Lu Guang implicitly trying to remind Cheng Xiaoshi that "Do not change the timeline, do not change the past, I can't let you suffer the same fate as me. I cannot, by any chance, let you face the consequences. Let it only be me who bears the sin. I can't afford YOU to suffer."

Before someone says that Cheng Xiaoshi suffers in every episode one way or another, let me tell you, it is still better than the situation Lu Guang is in. Remember, season 1 Cheng Xiaoshi is our Yingdu Cheng Xiaoshi. It's needless to say how much Cheng Xiaoshi cares for Lu Guang.

Cheng Xiaoshi getting suicidal/angry with Lu Guang because of the secrets Lu Guang kept from him is a popular theory. But...what if it's the other way around? What if Cheng Xiaoshi actually feels guilty because it was his past self for whom Lu Guang actually had to dive back ("Sorry, Lu Guang, save them"), leading to this painful fate. It is, in a sense, Cheng Xiaoshi's fault. Cheng Xiaoshi is capable of this reasoning.

And Lu Guang...every time he utters the rules (just put yourself in his shoes. How terrifying is that? Past or future let them be. Bro someone's whole existence can't be hypocrisy that's called existential crisis) he dies a little inside. As Lu Guang confesses in the beginning of Yingdu, he doesn't know how the timeline works. It's not his elaborate plan. He is taking actions carefully, one by one. One incident decides his next action. Lu Guang has been hurting since the first episode, I could feel it before, now we have canon to prove it.

Lu Guang's voice actor while asked about his favourite line stated that it's those three rules in Yingdu ep 5. "Past or future let them be" is a rule meant to be broken. In a time travel story, if they do not break the rules, I don't think the predetermined future can even be achieved. Lu Guang always lives with the ghost of the past or the anxiety of the future, but never in the present. It breaks my heart really.

Another thing I want to say. Um. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't really inherit the very core emotions of his hosts (means he pretty much acts on his own). At least this is the impression till now. He goes berserk in those cases where he is the son/daughter/student figure. Where his own overwhelming abandonment issues (due to parental trauma) overpower his host's personal emotions.

1. Emma's case : The reason Cheng Xiaoshi can't let go of Emma's death is because Emma's happy ending would have given him a solace. The happy ending he could not have with his own parents, he wanted to make sure that someone else gets it. Emma fits that figure. Emma would not leave that of a heavy impression on him if Cheng Xiaoshi didn't talk to Emma's parents. (For example, Cheng Xiaoshi didn't care for a second in Vivian's case and fled the place asap with Lu Guang. His priority was to protect Lu Guang. Vivian offered him a choice and for Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang's safety comes first. If Cheng Xiaoshi dived into Vivian and had her parental issues experienced first hand, the arc would have been totally different.

2. Earthquake episode : Well... again. The mother figure. Cheng Xiaoshi again dreams of his mother. He wanted to save the client's mother to get one part solace for himself (I completely understand him. It is human to do. I would have gone more insane). The way he was pleading to Lu Guang to let him save her, I don't think Cheng Xiaoshi was in a state of mind to listen. Cheng Xiaoshi is also traumatised. Not all action he takes is rational (especially if the host is the 'child' figure having parental trauma). Lu Guang knew that he couldn't reason with a man who was functioning on a trauma response. He was ready for the consequences and calmly explained to Cheng Xiaoshi during the Doudou episode.

3. Wang Qing : Welp. Yeah. It was probably 90% him and 10% Wang Qing at that point. While meeting Cheng Weimin.

The very photo which was enough to traumatize Li Tianxi and inherit Lu Guang's one of the most traumatic memories (Cheng Xiaoshi's death) and which got transferred to Qiao Ling was the photo T A K E N B Y C H E N G X I A O S H I W H I L E H E W A S D I V I N G I N T O L U G U A N G' S B O D Y H U H

bro tf.

Cheng Xiaoshi didn't inherit shit. He dived twice into Lu Guang. I don't think inheriting core memories/emotions is his department. OR

Cheng Xiaoshi is way smarter than we think and Link Click intentionally left us with a narrative gap. Many things can happen so..

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

“I’ve decided to call off of work for a while,” my wife explains to me over breakfast. “I’d rather be around if you need me than be at work, and we’ve got ample savings to live off of in the meantime.”

I ask her if she’s sure about that— I don’t really need a babysitter, I’ve already gotten over my meltdown about this whole thing— but she assures me that she believes it’s the right decision.

“What do you do for work, then, that they let you have time off so easy?”

She hesitates.

“I work for Tony Stark,” she replies after a moment. “As it stands, though, he’s got an excellent team, so they can share the load of whatever I’m leaving behind. Besides, it’s time I took a vacation.”

She’s keeping something from me, but I let it slide.

“Babysitting me is hardly a vacation.”

She shoots me a sly grin over her cup of coffee.

“Who said I was babysitting? Keep up the sass and I’ll call Dolores to sit with you while I go to Bali.”

I’m startled into a laugh.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I? Try me, soldier boy.”

There is a strange energy between us that makes me feel oddly playful. I want to forget about eggs and bacon and chase her around the house instead.

Gradually, though, that energy fades as we run out of things to talk about. Awkwardness subsumes us again, and since I cooked, (Y/N) offers to wash dishes, presumably to escape the weight of the silence between us.

About an hour of that tension is all either of us can stand. 

“I’m going downstairs to train,” she says, throwing a bar cloth over her shoulder. “Would you like to join me?”

I blink.

“We have a downstairs?”

“Yes— a basement.” A fond smile comes over her face. “You designed it yourself.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I did?”

“Oh yes.” She grins. “Come on, dear— I’ll give you the tour. You’ll love it.”

She walks past me just close enough for me to feel the heat from her body, but does not touch me. She keeps going just long enough for me to see the full length of her figure, then turns back to throw at me a mischievous look over her shoulder. 

“Well? Coming?”

She keeps walking, and I keep staring. This time, though, I grin. This hint of playfulness gets a rise out of me not unlike the one from before, and I realize that this must be what normal is for us.

What a fox.

Like a hound dog wagging his tail, I move to follow her. This, if nothing else, should prove interesting.

***

Three and a half hours later, I’m sore, sweaty, and I can’t feel my face.

To be fair, we’ve only been working for most of three hours. The majority of the first hour was spent on rediscovery— and what an hour it was! Not only did I apparently stock most of the cool machines I’d used in Wakanda, but there were also some things I’d never seen before, such as the combat simulator that Shuri had apparently gifted me last year for my birthday. (Y/N) warned me that it felt real, but I didn’t believe her until those nerve stimulators of Shuri’s mimicked exactly the feeling of a bullet ripping through my shoulder. It’s unpredictable, the simulator; it generates combat scenarios at random, and not every conflict ends well even if you do everything by the book. It’s a genius invention, and I spend an hour and a half on that alone.

As fascinating as the combat simulator is, though, it doesn’t hold a candle to what comes next.

While I rest from playing with all my (new) gadgets, my wife has been working slowly and steadily, alternating between lifting weights and training with a punching bag. She’s sweating heavily, and she looks pretty fatigued, but she keeps at it with a determination that reminds me of Steve. Eventually, though, she sits down to rest too, and between gulps of water, she says,

“Spar with me.”

“What?”

The word comes out as a laugh. She smirks.

“Laugh now, Sergeant Barnes, but I learned from the best.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenge playfully. “Who?”

Her smile is radiant and warm; it feels like a house fire in my chest.

“You.”

My heart skips a beat. 

She thinks I’m the best.

It’s a stupid thought, perhaps even a silly one, but it’s there. Even so, looking at her now, moving to stand with her hair all mussed and her face all sweaty, I know I can’t seriously spar with her. 

At least, that’s what I think until she whirls a kick at my head, forcing me to block it with my forearm.

“I said,” she pants, baring her teeth in a feline grin, “spar with me.”

The word no had been on the tip of my tongue— but I’ve never been one to leave a blow unanswered.

I grin back, and the game is on.

I launch myself from my seat, aiming to use my size to my advantage and grapple her— safely, gently, of course— to the ground. All my arms catch is air. She bounds lightly backwards, as graceful as a dancer, and holds her hands up in a ready position. 

After I aim a few hits at her, missing each one, I realize her strategy. I’m bigger, stronger than her, sure, but it takes a lot more for my muscles to move my larger body than it does hers. She’s baiting me into my strikes, hoping to fatigue me before she presses what then will be her advantage. I adjust accordingly. I feint left, but move right— the motion traps her as my metal metal hand closes around her soft flesh. I think I have her until she uses the same momentum that I use to pull her to me to bash her forehead against the bridge of my nose, stunning me. She wrenches free and tries to sweep my feet, but I’m too sturdy for her. Instead, she falls with the motion, and I follow her to the floor in an unsightly but effective crawl to try and close the distance between us for a grapple. She doesn’t make it to her feet before I’m on her, and I know it’s game over now.

Size for size, strength for strength, I’ll win.

Surprisingly, though, she still makes me work for it.

In an impressive show of agility, she rolls away from me before I can grab her— but not before aiming a kick at my temple that, had it landed, might have been deadly. Frustrated, I make a grab at the foot that kicked at me, and she stomps my fleshy hand with her heel— meet punishment for the pettiness of my grab. Truly irritated now, and in sorry pain, I get my feet underneath me and throw myself at her once more.

She rolls again, and my hand misses her arm by only half an inch. In fact, she almost makes it to her feet before I finally latch both arms around her waist and bring her down hard. I win the ensuing scramble; only a few seconds pass before I have her pinned beneath me, my hands circling her wrists and forcing them to the ground beside her head. Her legs are pinned open by my knees, and I grin in fierce triumph.

“I win,” I say, and I know my expression must be wild with joy.

Her expression doesn’t exactly match mine, though. Her eyes are wide, her lips are parted, and…

And her chest, slightly exposed and pressed forth by her raised arms, is heaving.

The world slows. My awareness narrows to just the places where our bodies are touching, which is… a lot of places. My heart is racing, I can’t catch my breath— and neither can my wife. My wife, who is panting, sweaty, and beautiful, whose soft thighs are on either side of mine, and whose eyes say she wants me to close all the distance that there is between us.

“Bucky.”

She breathes my name like a sigh, and I know that in this moment, I’ll do whatever she asks of me. 

“Bucky,” she repeats, “I think— I think I need to shower.”

That’s… not what I wanted to hear.

I let her up. She dusts off like it’s nothing, but I can see the tremble in her limbs. She’s fatigued beyond fatigue, utterly exhausted— and so, I find, am I. On unsteady legs, I move to follow her, then stop.

“Eat something,” I tell her belatedly, uselessly. “I mean, to keep your strength up, you should probably eat.”

She turns. Her smile is sad.

“Thanks Buck, darling. I will.”

And thus, like a newborn fawn, she stumbles out of the room on shaky legs, leaving me to stand in humiliating silence with a raging hard-on and nothing to do with it.

***

While (Y/N) showers, I raid the kitchen. 

My own shower was short and cold. I took it in the guest room, which is just as richly furnished as the rest of the house. It wasn’t the best shower I’ve ever taken, though, since I wouldn’t exactly call it refreshing. I came out of it just as I came into it— tired, frustrated, and hungry.

One of those things can be fixed quick, fast, and in a hurry by an enterprising guy like me, though, and I place my bets on the fridge as I crack it open for a peek at its treasures.

There is everything imaginable in that refrigerator. So much that I have a hard time choosing anything at all. I settle on boiled eggs, string cheese, and an apple to start, and when that doesn’t do the trick, I manage to put together the ingredients for a simple but flavorful soup.

By the time (Y/N) returns from her shower, the soup is finished and there’s a bowl cooling for her on the counter. I serve it to her myself when she comes into the kitchen, and she thanks me tiredly as she sits at the dining room table.

“This is good.” She blows on the steaming spoonful she’s scooped up. “Thank you.”

I shrug.

“Sure thing.”

Once she’s done, I take her bowl and clean up. Her eyes are drooping sleepily, and I have to work to hide my smile from her as she yawns cutely.

“Wanda, Nat, and Bruce want to go out tonight,” she sighs tiredly, looking at her phone. “They’ve invited us, if you’re interested— although, just so you know, they likely have selfish intentions for asking us to come.”

I cock my head to the side in question. My wife blinks blearily, then clarifies.

“You can’t get drunk, so you always DD.”

“Not selfish, then.” I laugh, “just common sense.”

“Mm, maybe. Wanda gets weepy when she’s drunk, and Bruce gets cornier. Natasha stays Natasha, but sometimes her languages become… interesting.”

“And you?”

She grins.

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m a delight, as usual, even when I’m drunk.”

Oh, I can translate that pretty easily. My money says she’s worse than all three of them combined.

“So,” she continues, “you in or out?”

I consider declining— (Y/N) seems too sleepy now to go out later in the day— but then I remember our sparring earlier and decide that, super-soldier-ness be damned, a drink might be a good idea after all.

“I’m down. You sure you’re not too tired? We worked hard earlier.”

“I’ll nap,” she yawns. 

I continue cleaning up, and she shuffles in the direction of the master bedroom with a muffled thanks for the food.

A little while later, I settle in on the couch and very politely pretend that I can’t hear the distinct buzz of a vibrator through the walls as my wife, on the other side, softly calls my name, doubtless thinking me unable to hear. 

Damn that super soldier serum. Never did me any damn good. 

***

I’ve never taken so long to dress in my life.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like I completely fried my brain looking at the wardrobe in front of me. There are… there are colors here. Colors and designs and textures— how the fuck am I supposed to match any of this to anything else? I have half a mind to ask (Y/N) for guidance. However, the other half of my mind would insist that I jump off a bridge before resorting to having her dress me like I’m some kind of doll, so instead of looking at the clothes and continuing to overwhelm myself, I move to look at myself in the mirror and try to imagine an outfit that I would like.

While I’m scrutinizing myself trying to find the best outfit, I realize that my hair is different than I remember it. It’s still long, but there are more layers. I like it, I think. It makes me look cleaner, sharper. 

I finally settle on a black button-up and a pair of jeans. There’s a jewelry box on the dresser that I found my socks and underwear in, and I open it to find jewelry that must belong to me: a couple medals (Jesus, they’re old!), a silver chain, and a set of cufflinks.

There is also a wedding ring.

I lift the wedding ring and examine it. There is an inscription looping on the inside of it that reads,

In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

I consider putting it on my finger, but I decide against it. I haven’t earned the right to wear it— not yet. I have no right to my wife; as I am, I can’t be what she needs. I’ll need to wait until I can prove to her and to myself that I can still make her happy before I can feel right about it.

I place the ring back in the jewelry box and try not to feel disappointed.

I pick up the silver chain. It might be a nice addition to the outfit, I think. I put it on, stare at it, then take it off. I peer at myself, sigh, then put it back on. 

It’ll have to do.

After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I finally manage to meet my wife in the living room, ready to head out. I make it halfway through the threshold to the living room before my jaw hits the floor.

Her dress is champagne gold with a perfectly-draped neckline that I feel sure makes my eyes bulge out in cartoonish heart shapes. The thin straps of the halter neckline settle pleasingly over her shoulders, and when she turns, I thank God for every roll, dimple, and contour of her back. Her long, delicate earrings brush her shoulders as she turns back to me, and I decide then and there that it’s over for me. There’s no way I’m not going to spend every minute of every day trying to make this dame happy for the rest of my life. Greek statues would be jealous of such a beauty. Hell, I don’t discriminate— statues of every race, color, and creed can eat their hearts out. They could never compare to her.

“Hey handsome. Whatcha think? Will I do?”

My approval must be obvious; she smiles cheeky and adds,

“It has pockets!”

To show me, she sticks her hands in them. The motion makes her breasts jiggle prettily, and I fix my gaze on the light fixtures in the ceiling trying to will away the urge to peel that fucking dress off of her with my teeth like I have any right whatsoever to do so. 

I really don’t know what the hell’s come over me. I feel like a hound-dog slavering over a fox. I’ve always loved women— who doesn’t?— but this feels… different. I ache for her in a way that makes me want to crack open her rib cage and live there.

“You look great.” My mouth is dry. I clear my throat. “Really great. I feel a little underdressed, looking at you. I can change, though, if you— ”

She grabs my arm, right on the muscle of my bicep.

“Don’t you dare,” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes. “If you look any better, I’ll have to keep a baseball bat around to beat the women off of you.”

She squeezes my bicep, then releases me, her expression subdued.

Was that… jealousy? 

Interesting.

I offer her my arm— the metal one. She takes it, and I try not to feel smug.

“Ready?”

She smiles, nods, and accepts the arm I offer— but not before glancing at it and frowning. I frown too, confused about what might have displeased her, but there’s nothing I can figure out before we’re loading up in what is apparently my Jeep Wrangler. She directs me to each of our friends’ houses— “Wanda last,” she insists, “to give her time to put the kids to bed”—and then to the nightclub Natasha likes.  

The club is nice— the whole place looks like the inside of a lava lamp— but it’s full to the brim with sweating, drunk, scantily-clad people who all seem to feel entitled to touch everyone else. I personally don’t have any interest in that sort of thing, especially not this grinding business that looks little better than public dry-humping. Back in the day, I’d be spinning girls all around the dancefloor; I’d keep them on the floor until their feet hurt and even after. Now, though? I wouldn’t be caught dead doing… whatever that stuff is.

Well, if (Y/N) asked for a dance, I’d do my best. Anybody worth their salt would know better than to say no to a dame like her. But the thing is… she doesn’t ask me.

“I’m going to dance for a while,” she yells at me over the sound of the music. “Are you good here?”

“Peachy,” I shout back, propping my feet up on a rung of the barstool I’ve claimed. “Have fun, beautiful.”

Her smile glows in the blue-green light, and then she’s gone with Wanda and Natasha, who seem just as eager to dance.

Out of politeness, Bruce hangs out with me at the bar for a little while and we talk shop— S.W.O.R.D’s research and operations, Steve’s programs there— but it’s clear that he wants to dance as well. Before long, I send him off with a clap on the shoulder for encouragement, and then I’m alone at the bar, sipping surprisingly good whiskey.

A while later, a woman sidles up beside me to order a drink. I turn to look at her. She’s a dark-haired beauty with skin the color of polished bronze and hair like big, dark, fluffy clouds. Her lips are full, and they glitter with reflective golden gloss.

“Hi!” She greets me as we make eye contact. “You’re super handsome, oh my God!” 

I blink.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Say, do you wanna dance?”

“No can do. I’m here with my wife.”

The response is automatic. I shock myself with it. For a guy that’s only been married less than forty-eight hours, I’m coming to find that the “nope, I’ve got a wife” instinct sure does kick in fast.

“Oh my bad king! Have a good night!”

She turns to go, but I reach out and grab her arm.

“Wait, wait!” Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve got to be the stupidest man alive… but this might just be what I need. “I… think I might need some advice. Do you know stuff about relationships?”

She purses her lips in thought, then nods her head.

“Bad ones, yeah. Good ones, not so much. Also, babe, I’m a little drunk so I dunno how useful I’ll be to you right now.”

“That’s fine.” Reconnaissance, I tell myself. This is just simple reconnaissance. “You mind if we talk a minute?”

“I don’t mind at all! Yap away!”

I tell her the important bits and leave out the stuff she probably shouldn’t know.

“Like I said, I just feel like I barely know her anymore, but I… I want to try and make it better. She’s good to me, and I want to be good to her. Plus, the chemistry is…” I think back to that sly smile, the press of her thighs against mine. “Off the charts. I just wanna be the man she fell in love with.”

Lani— that’s my new friend’s name— nods thoughtfully. 

“And you say you’ve only been back stateside for a couple days?”

I nod and feel a little guilty using someone else’s war for my white lie. Still, though, I don’t know what all my excuses would consist of if there was only peacetime in recent years.

“Then this is just relationship throat-clearing,” Lani tells me confidently, throwing back the shot I bought her. “Ack— that’s strong. But yeah, it’s just a phase. If you wanna speed stuff up, I recommend physical touch. Not the sex kind, you understand— just hold her. Your bodies have probably done a little forgetting even if your minds haven’t. Might be a good idea to start there.”

“But how do I initiate it without coming off.. weird?”

Lani and I talk for a long time. I lose track of how long. Before I know it, it’s been two hours, and I look up to realize that I haven’t seen my wife in that amount of time. I look around, but I don’t see her.

“Don’t worry,” Lani is telling me, “You seem like a good guy, and you’re trying. If she loves you, you’ll work it out just fine.”

A weird look comes over her face, and she adds, “Besides, if I’m guessing correctly… she’s definitely still burning hot for you, king, so good luck out there.”

I turn back to her and thank her sincerely. She pats me on the shoulder and thanks me in turn for the drinks. It’s only right, she insists, that her bad experiences should serve to help someone else prevent them. With that, she’s off, and I’m sitting by myself once more.

Tired now, but armed with a good strategy, I stand, stretching my legs. I scan the dancefloor for my wife, but I don’t see her in the immediate vicinity. When I do catch sight of her, I wish I hadn’t— her eyes are all molten fury as she squishes her way through the crowd of dancing bodies. Whatever has happened tonight, she’s not happy about it, that’s for damn sure. Still determined to act on the advice I was given, I start to make my way toward her, but before I can get very far, I see someone grab my wife’s arm and yank— hard. She stumbles, and I catch sight of the person who’s holding her. 

It’s a man. A large, scruffy-looking man with a look of trouble about him.

I start to shove through people faster.

(Y/N) tries to snatch her arm back, fails. She’s clearly a bit drunk, and stumbles when he yanks her over to him. I’m two strides away, but not close enough to help before the situation explodes.

My wife, full of righteous fury from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head, rares back and punches the guy straight in his ugly face. 

He lets her go then, but people start screaming and the crowd jostles me away from her. I’m trying very hard not to lose my patience and start swinging my elbows— I could kill someone like that with my level of strength— but I’m starting not to care as I watch her use her fists like hammers on the guy’s skull. I’ve seen shit like this among soldiers before, back in the day. She’s drunk, she’s angry— and, judging by how long she lasted against me sparring, she’ll catch a fucking manslaughter charge if I don’t intervene soon. 

I scream her name above the din, but she doesn’t hear me. Her knee connects with Ugly Guy’s nose, and I finally break free from the people-prison that had me trapped. 

“Hey!” I call out to her, reaching for her arm. “Baby, hey, he’s had it, okay, you made your—”

She whirls on me, and I catch hell in the form of a cupped hand smacking painfully against my ear.

“Stay the fuck out of this,” she snarls at me, vicious and cruel. “I’m not done here.”

Oh, but she is. I can be every bit as vicious and every bit as cruel as she can be, and I prove it by grabbing her from the back and putting her in a metal-armed headlock.

“Stand down, babygirl,” I growl close to her ear. “You don’t want to kill him.”

“I do,” she confesses darkly, struggling vainly against me. “I want his bleeding heart in my hands!”

“Then not here, not now.” Bouncers have finally noticed the commotion— too late, sadly. They’re heading for us, but I keep my voice level and calm. “Behave or I swear to God I won’t let anyone bail you out of jail.”

“You have no right to command me!” She thrashes in my arms like a trapped animal. “Let me go, asshole!”

“I have every right.” I tighten the lock.

“Says… who?”

“Says this.” I tighten my arm more, and she wheezes like a squeaky toy with the squeaker ripped out. “Now behave. I don’t wanna go to jail.”

And, let’s be real— if that stupid, ugly fuck decides to raise his hand to her even in self defense, it’ll be both of us sitting in a jail cell. I’d kill him for it.

I let her go then, and she stumbles, clutching at her throat and gasping for air. I feel an instant flash of regret, but I have no time to process it before I’m gathering her in my arms and promising the bouncers that we didn’t start it, but that we’re leaving so as not to cause more trouble. They look at us skeptically, but decide that we’re apparently not worth the trouble and send us on our way. 

Natasha and Bruce catch up with us at the doorway. They saw the whole thing, apparently, and had the same trouble I did with trying to reach (Y/N) before she caused more trouble for herself and us. 

“You guys go on home,” says Natasha, a strange look in her eyes. “We’ll catch up with Wanda and we’ll all get an Uber home when we’re ready.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, desperate for an answer in the affirmative.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Bruce says, placing a reassuring hand on my wife's shoulder. “We all get mad sometimes— and sometimes, we all need a break.”

If Bruce Banner tells you that you need to take a chill pill, you take one. 

And so that’s how my wife and I end up parked in our garage, staring straight ahead at the wall in absolute silence. I’m lost in thought, pondering how such a promising evening went to shit so fast, when (Y/N) breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry I hit you.” Her voice wavers a bit. “And that I called you an asshole. I was just so mad…”

She’s fighting tears. I want to stretch out my hand to her, but I don’t know that the gesture would be welcome.

“S’okay. You had a right to be mad at that guy. He was a total creep.”

She shakes her head.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t mad at him. I mean, I was, but not initially.”

I turn to her, but she’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched. With great effort, I keep my voice gentle.

“What happened? Why were you angry, then?”

Her lower lip trembles.

“I really don’t want to talk about this right now, Bucky.”

It’s not the answer I wanted, but it is an answer I will accept.

“That’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.” I think for a minute, then add, “Also, I’m sorry for putting you in a headlock and then insinuating that I have a right to order you around.”

She huffs a laugh.

“I deserved it. All you did was keep me from making a pretty big mistake.”

“Still,” I insist, “I was meaner than I would have liked, and rougher too. I’m sorry.”

“Bucky, please don’t apologize— not for this. It was the right call.”

“But I am sorry it had to happen that way. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

To my shame, there is still a red line at her neck where my arm pressed against it. It’s not bruised or anything, but the mark itself shames me.

My wife turns to me, rigid and acerbic. She says,

“James Buchanan Barnes, I have begged on my actual knees for the same thing you did this evening and worse for my own, selfish… lascivious reasons. When I tell you that no apology is necessary, I mean it. You have nothing to apologize for. No touch from you could ever be too rough for me.”

The implication she just made— that she enjoyed being in a headlock, that she… gets off on that rough and ready side of me— lays heavily between us. 

I’m utterly speechless.

“Ugh, I’m still fucking drunk,” she groans. “Don’t listen to me. I’m going to bed.” 

She clambers out of the Jeep and makes her way into the house. I sit there for a minute to process, then turn the car off and follow her inside.

By the time I make it in, the water to the main shower is running. With a loose plan in mind, I undress down to my boxers and slip between the covers of our shared bed adjacent to the bathroom and wait for her to finish. 

Then my hearing picks up on something I’m not supposed to hear— a whispered phone call that is meant to be masked by the running water of the shower, but isn’t.

“I don’t know, Shuri.” My wife is saying, her voice thick with tears. “He may wake up tomorrow and remember everything. No, the tests won’t be back for— oh stop that, you know we don’t have Wakanda’s resources. No, I don’t think international travel is a good— Shuri! Listen to me, he’s okay. Why am I so emotional then? Why do you think! Because— ” there is a pause, a shuddering breath, then, “Well, I’ve made a fool of myself. Oh, Shuri, what a jealous fool I’ve been!”

(Y/N) recounts the evening as she remembers it, and I am horrified to discover her version of events. Right off the bat, I apparently managed to fuck up by not wearing my wedding ring— apparently she saw that as a sign of rejection and not the show of respect I had intended it to be. That pain, of course, exacerbated the jealousy she describes to Shuri as me openly flirting with and buying drinks for a hot, drunk chick— a jealousy that she thinks she doesn’t even have a right to feel because I’m no longer hers— or at least that’s what she thinks I seem to think.

This account paints me in a terrible light indeed. I feel physically ill listening to all of my actions being laid out and twisted into something they were never meant to be.

“I can’t even be mad at him, Shuri,” she cries, a terrible, aching sound that wrenches my heart and roils in my gut. “It’s not his fault— he doesn’t even know me. And— I mean, yeah, I know he saw the ring ‘cause he had on the necklace, so he had to have looked in— ugh, don’t distract me! My point is, what if he never remembers? He— he may want to leave. No, I won’t stop him— I want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. I just— I love him, Shuri. If he leaves, it will break my heart.”

I keep listening , but those words bounce around in my brain. 

If he leaves, it will break my heart.

“I don’t even think he thinks I’m pretty anymore. When he saw me in my cute little dress— you know, the gold one with the pockets?— he looked up at the ceiling as if he’d rather look at anything else. Oh, Shuri, it’s over. It’s hopeless!”

It’s all I can do not to bust the bathroom door down and correct every misconception she has. Instead, I bide my time, resting my eyes and my body as she finishes her phone call and her shower. She needs this time and space, so I give it to her until the water shuts off and she makes her way to the bedroom where I lay in apparent sleep.

(Y/N) steps softly up to the bed, then hesitates. I’m willing to bet she’s contemplating sleeping in the guest room. Without opening my eyes, I say,

“Don’t be shy. There’s plenty of room.”

Gingerly, she climbs into bed. She settles as far from me as she can get— an admittedly respectful distance in a circumstance such as this one. Still, I’m unsatisfied. 

“You can stay there if you’d like,” I tell her, “but I’ll feel terrible if you fall off.”

She doesn’t move. It’s remarkable how quiet her crying is, but I can feel the sadness radiating off of her in waves.

I sit up. 

“Hey.” I open my arm— the metal one— up to her. “Come here.”

She shakes her head.

“You don’t have to do this, Bucky,” she sniffles. “You— you’re really not obligated to comfort me. If anything, I’m supposed to be comforting you.”

“Why?” I ask. “I’m not the one who’s lost anything. From where I’m sitting, I’ve only stood to gain. I have a home, friends, and a beautiful wife where I used to have none of those things. But you… you’ve lost a husband.”

She covers her face with her hand, and I take it upon myself to close the distance between us. I pull her to me, and she buries her face in my chest while she cries.

“I’m sorry,” she says, over and over. “I’m sorry…..”

I soothe her as best I can. I rub circles into her back and hold her close. When she shifts awkwardly, I grab Kleenex from the nightstand and let her blow her nose. The whole time, I take Lani’s advice and don’t let her get more than three inches away from me. 

When she’s calmer, I begin to speak. I start with what I feel should be the most obvious fact that she has misunderstood.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” I tell her firmly, brushing hair away from her face. “I’ve seen a lot of women in a lot of places all around the world and even outside of it, and to me, you beat the hell out of all of them. When I saw you in that dress, it was all I could do to keep my hands off of you and go back to whatever it was we were doing in the basement earlier.”

My wife blinks owlishly. I don’t wait for her to respond before I press on.

“But,” I continue, “I kept my hands to myself because I haven’t earned that yet. I’m stumbling in the dark here with no clue what I’m doing— I’m not the man you married. At least, not yet. But I’m trying to be. I want to be him. That’s why I didn’t wear my wedding ring. I wanted to be worthy of it— worthy of you— before I put it on. In retrospect, I’m realizing I must have seemed like an asshole by not wearing it— even further from the man you know and love.”

“Oh Bucky,” she sighs, tears streaming down her face, “you really are the man I married, even if you don’t know it, you sneaky, conniving, eavesdropping bastard. You listened to my phone call with Shuri, didn’t you?”

I turn pink from the top of my chest to the tips of my ears. 

“That depends on how mad you’ll be if I say yes.”

She lets out a snotty giggle that’s stupidly cute.

“S’what I get for marrying an assassin and a spy,” she smiles through her tears. “Go on, dear— you might as well finish up. You’d better have a jam-up excuse for letting that girl fawn over you all night, or I’ll still be cross with you.”

I shrug.

“That one’s easy. I was asking her for advice about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She’s quiet for a long time after that. I keep handing her tissues and she keeps blowing her nose until the fount of her tears finally dries up.

“So?” I probe gently, taking her hand in mine, “Am I forgiven?”

“Of course.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s me who should be asking for forgiveness— I should have trusted you to start with.”

I shake my head with a grin.

“My wife can do no wrong as far as I’m concerned. Even when she does something wrong, I’ve got to assume that it’s my fault somehow.”

“Bucky,” she laughs. I lean my forehead against hers and decide to press my luck.

“Can I kiss you? I’ve wanted to since we sparred earlier, and I think it would go a long way towards soothing any ruffled— mph.” 

Her lips are soft against mine. She kisses me once, twice— and then I deepen the kiss, adjusting our bodies until my hand is threaded through her hair, forming a cup around her skull as we kiss deeply, unhurriedly, as though we have all the time in the world. Her hands roam and so do mine, and in this slow, sensual exploration, I am completely, utterly lost. 

Selfishly, I want more. I want to pull my wife into my lap and let her feel what she does to me— I want to kiss and touch her and make her feel good— but Lani had advised me against this temptation.

“If you give in too soon, somehow sex and intimacy become the same thing, which… they aren’t,” she’d told me. “She needs one much, much more than the other, and I’ll give you a hint— it’s not sex. Trust me, even if it feels right in the moment, it won’t later. It’ll feel transactional. That's the worst possible outcome, ‘cause when it comes down to it, there’s always a better deal somewhere else. Give her safety, though, and she’ll always be yours.”

So that’s what I do. I hold her and kiss her and touch her until she’s tired, and then I tuck her into my chest and wait until her breathing evens out to close my own eyes and sleep.

[earthlybeam]

Hey, I love your writing so much and I had request if you're taking them right now. I read your headcanons about Glorfindel and I thought it was interesting that people kind of underestimate him because he's attractive. Could you do one where Glorfindel overhears the reader defending him to other people? Hope this isn't too strange of a request!

That’s such a kind thing to say—thank you! I’d love to write this for you. 🫶 It’s a great idea, and not strange at all! Glorfindel is such an interesting character, and I really like exploring the contrast between his beauty and his strength. 😉❤️‍🔥🤌

Glorfindel version below

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

Glorfindel was no stranger to admiration. His golden hair, striking blue eyes, and radiant presence often left people in awe before they even knew his name. It wasn’t unusual for conversations to shift when he entered a room—whispers of his past heroics, quiet sighs over his beauty, or, occasionally, dismissive laughter from those who assumed his looks outshone his substance. Most days, he ignored it. He had lived too long to care about the idle chatter of those who did not truly know him. But today was different. Today, he overheard you.

The voices reached him just as he turned a corner in the halls of Rivendell. He hadn’t been paying much attention—his mind had been on council matters, his upcoming patrol, and, admittedly, the thought of seeing you later that evening. But the moment he heard his own name, spoken with a sneer, he slowed his steps.

“Oh, come on. He’s Glorfindel—he’s all charm and golden hair. He’s a warrior, sure, but it’s not like he’s some grand strategist. If he weren’t so pretty, do you think people would take him half as seriously?” Glorfindel’s steps halted. He exhaled sharply through his nose, already prepared to walk away. This was not new. He had heard it all before. He had nothing to prove to those who judged him by his face rather than his deeds. And then, your voice cut through the air like a blade. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” His brow lifted slightly, curiosity sparking in his chest.

“Glorfindel is one of the most formidable warriors in Middle-earth. He literally fought a Balrog single-handedly and won. He has led armies, advised lords and kings, and is one of the few elves wise enough to be trusted as an emissary of the Valar. He’s not just ‘some warrior’—he’s a leader, a tactician, and a legend.” Silence followed, and Glorfindel could practically see the way the others must have shifted awkwardly under the weight of your words. But you weren’t finished.

“And even if he weren’t all those things, even if he were just ‘some warrior’—what of it? He’s kind, selfless, and one of the most honorable people I have ever met. He doesn’t look down on others, even when they clearly don’t deserve his patience. The fact that you all assume he gets by on his looks alone just proves you’ve never actually spoken to him. And maybe you should, instead of sitting here making fools of yourselves.”

Glorfindel had been called many things in his lifetime—hero, lord, captain, legend. But standing there, listening to the raw conviction in your voice as you defended him without hesitation, he had never felt more seen. His heart clenched, warmth flooding through him in a way that had nothing to do with the golden light of his spirit. You hadn’t defended him because you wanted something from him, or because you needed to impress anyone. You had spoken because you believed in him. Because you knew him.

The sound of chairs shifting signaled the end of the conversation. He waited until the footsteps faded before stepping forward, rounding the corner just as you turned to leave. You nearly ran into him. Your eyes widened slightly, guilt flashing across your face—as if you’d been caught saying something you shouldn’t have. “Glorfindel,” you breathed. He tilted his head, amusement glinting in his gaze. “That was quite the speech.” A flush crept up your neck. “You… heard that?”

“Every word.” He let a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. “Legend, was it?” You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “They were being idiots—what was I supposed to do? Let them keep talking nonsense?” Glorfindel chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “No, I rather enjoyed hearing you put them in their place.” He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, the back of his fingers brushing lightly against your hand. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, more sincere. “Thank you.”

You looked up at him, and for a brief moment, he felt like that young elf from Gondolin again—awed, hopeful, endlessly grateful for the kindness of another. “They don’t deserve to speak about you like that,” you said firmly. “You matter, Glorfindel. And not because of what you look like. Because of who you are.” His breath caught. For all his centuries of existence, for all the titles and accolades and whispered praises, this—this simple, earnest truth—was what meant the most.

With a smirk, he nudged your shoulder lightly. “Well then, my most loyal defender, what say you to a walk? After all, if I am to keep up this image of a ‘legend,’ I ought to be seen in the company of someone just as formidable.” You laughed, rolling your eyes but accepting his offered arm nonetheless. “Fine. But only if you admit that you’re more than just a pretty face.” Glorfindel grinned, leading you down the corridor. “Oh, I never doubted it.”