#maybe I’ll do something with it later. maybe not

[navybrat817]

Starting Over

Pairing: Trailer Park!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You're ready to start over, and your neighbor makes a lasting impression.

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: Flirting, swearing, dirty talk, tension, sexual chemistry, world building, asshole ex, Alpine appearance, Bucky Barnes (he's very forward and a warning, okay?)

A/N: Here we are! My trailer park!Bucky intro. We're calling this AU Diamond in the Rough. Thanks to the nonnies and everyone who has asked about him. He's here, @ellethespaceunicorn, @targaryenvampireslayer, @vunblr, @vesearlee, @startcarvingdarling, @thezombieprostitute, @buckybarnesfic (sorry to anyone I missed)!❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your life went up in flames recently all thanks to the match you struck. If people asked your parents, your friends, your old boss, or your now ex-boyfriend, they’d likely say it was a mid-life crisis or form of rebellion to get some sort of attention. The truth was that the fuel had spread for years, daring you to light it all on fire, and you did when you finally had enough. You wouldn’t say the old you was dead and that you were reborn, but you weren’t who you were yesterday either. 

This was the start of a different, and hopefully happier, version of you.

Staring at the worn down trailer in front of you, you hadn't made your way inside just yet. While your place with your ex had been large and open and new, this place had seen better days. It needed a fresh coat of paint to start, a new door and windows. It was sinking in that this was really going to be your new home, and it made you happy. 

“I’ll bring you back to life,” you whispered, determined to give this place the TLC that it deserved. If you poured yourself into this, maybe it would fix something inside you, too. You certainly didn’t need your ex or anyone else to help.

You looked over at your car, your beautiful Mustang, which had everything you thought to pack. Your bed and other furniture wouldn't get delivered until later, but that was okay. It hurt to think so much of your life, what defined you, could be boiled down to material possessions, but weren't you fortunate since so many had much less? Maybe unpacking as much as you could today would occupy your time and thoughts.

Like finding a new job, something you truly wanted to do and not what was expected of you. 

Your phone went off and you hesitated to look at the message, not sure who it would be from. It was funny how for years no one went out of their way to talk to you unless they needed something. Now that you were gone they suddenly cared? The thought left a hollow feeling in your chest, one you didn’t want to examine today.

“I have a bet on how long it’ll take you to come crawling back to me. Can’t wait to see you on your knees with those pretty tears when you beg for forgiveness, Pumpkin. And let’s face it, on your knees is where you belong because you’re nothing without me.” 

A surge of anger flooded your veins as you reread it. Even now he expected you’d come back with your tail between your legs where he could look down on you. He had another thing coming. “Trust fund prick,” you muttered, your finger hovering only for a moment before you blocked him. You should’ve done that the moment you dumped him, but doing it now in front of your new home, it felt more right. 

Your eyes burned when you put your phone away and an empty feeling began to consume you. Why were you close to tears? Because of him? You knew from the beginning what kind of man he was and you lied to yourself to maintain the facade that everyone else wanted. You were tired of living for other people’s expectations. This was your life, you didn’t need a man, and-

“You lost?”

You turned at the sound of the deep voice just feet behind you, trembling ever so slightly when you saw the man that husky voice belonged to. The sight knocked the very breath from your lungs. You were used to being surrounded by guys who paraded themselves as men, but they were little boys playing dress up. But the man in front of you? He was all man.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

He stood tall and proud, but relaxed and at ease in his element. Blue eyes like an ocean, yet he was the calm of the storm. The short dark brown hair matched his thick goatee and you wished you could feel it against your skin so you knew if it was soft or scratchy. The white tank top showed off his muscles and tattoos and the chain around his neck dipped beneath the neckline. The low hanging jeans hid what you knew was an amazing package. He was something out of a wet dream, the kind of man who looked like trouble.

The kind of man you should stay away from, but wanted to chase after you.

He slowly licked his bottom lip before he asked, “Cat got your tongue, Sweet Cheeks?”

Your face felt like it would go up in flames. Being attracted to what you believed was a new neighbor wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. “No, and I’m not lost,” you replied, gesturing to what was now your home. “I live here now.”

You could see why he thought you were lost since it was obvious you weren’t from around there. When you looked for a new place, you purposely picked an area far from your old place. If you had stayed close, it wouldn’t have severed the ties enough. It would’ve made your leash longer and that wouldn’t do. 

“Is that right?” He looked you over from head to toe and your mouth went dry when he smirked, the kind that likely disintegrated panties. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

The ruggedly handsome man held his hand out for you, and you only just realized he was wearing rings. What would it feel like if they dug into your skin? And, yes, you may have glanced at his left hand to see if he was wearing a wedding ring, which he wasn’t. “Thanks for the welcome,” you said, taking his hand. 

Electricity crackled between you, feeling the crackle from head to toe. The intensity shook you to your core when he locked his eyes with yours and brought your hand to his lips and kissed it instead of shaking it. You let out a breath when his goatee tickled your skin, his eyes locked with yours. Well, that answered your question- both soft and scruffy, the kind that would leave a delicious burn between your thighs. 

Jesus, you needed to keep your libido under control. You just got out of a relationship. Weren’t you just thinking moments ago how you didn’t need a man?

“I’m Bucky,” he said against your skin, reluctantly releasing your hand. “You wanna tell me your name, or should I just keep calling you ‘Sweet Cheeks’?” 

You told him your name, the sound barely above a whisper. He hummed and repeated it. Never once did you think your name sounded sexy until he said it.

“Why are you calling me Sweet Cheeks?” you asked. Did he call every pretty woman that? Not that you were full of yourself and thought you were drop-dead gorgeous, but you had some confidence in your looks.

He chuckled, a throaty sound that made you want to hear it again. “Well, I hope you don't mind me being forward, but…” he began.

You tensed up a little and looked down at yourself. Was he going to make a comment that you didn't belong there? That you stood out like a sore thumb? You were dressed down, but still looked pristine as you always did, a habit instilled in you that you had to look put together no matter if you were crumbling inside. Appearance meant everything to your family, and you needed to let that expectation go.

“Your ass looks incredible in those jeans. Sweetest fucking cheeks I’ve ever seen and that’s with your pants on.” He licked his lips when his gaze drifted down your body. “I don’t think I’ve seen a better ass than yours.”

You blinked and looked behind you to get a look at yourself. “Excuse me?” you asked. Of all the things you thought he’d say, that wasn't one of them. 

“I saw you from behind and stared for a good minute, thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you, before I walked over. You have the kind of ass that should be worshipped. Could make a grown man cry,” he said, your heart speeding up and your core throbbing. “And then you turn around with the face of a fucking angel and I swear my heart stopped,” he added, putting both hands on his chest for emphasis. “Givin’ me a heart attack over here.”

You almost laughed because he couldn’t be serious, but there was no humor in his eyes. In fact, he scanned your face like he was trying to memorize it. “That’s… no. My ass isn’t that great. Neither is my face,” you said. It wasn’t to fish for a compliment, as nice as it would've been, because while you had some confidence in yourself, you didn’t have that great of an ass.

But beauty was in the eye of the beholder, wasn’t it, and he looked like he was two seconds from dropping to his knees in the dirt to worship you like he claimed he wanted to.

“Tell that to my racing heart and my cock,” he said, your mouth parting when he pointed to his crotch. “But if you continue to disagree, I’m more than happy to show you how wrong you are.”

Your words were stuck in your throat, not used to being the center of someone’s attention that way. “I’m sorry, but we just met,” you said, unsure of how else to respond. He didn’t know you, apart from your name, and he was talking about worshipping your ass and looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole?

It was… kind of flattering. What would you have to be upset about? Weren’t you mentally telling your libido to calm down at the sight of him? You were attracted to him, he was just the one being brave enough to vocalize his attraction to you.

His gaze didn’t waver when he said, “Yeah, we just met, but I want you.”

Your mouth parted again. Well, he was certainly forward and that didn’t bother you. It was better than the fake people you surrounded yourself with before spouting pretty lies. “You want me? You don’t know me and I could be a taken woman,” you pointed out.

“I’ll get to know you if you let me. ‘Sides, it’s not like I see a ring or indentation on your finger, so I don’t think you’re married or engaged. And I sure as hell don’t see anyone here helping you with your stuff, so I’m guessing you’ve been single for a while or you recently got out of a relationship,” he said, taking a look around to make his point before he focused on you once again. You weren’t at all upset that he noticed your bare finger since you had looked at his, too. “You wanna be a taken woman?”

Was it that obvious that you were all alone? “So what if I did just get out of a relationship?” you asked. There was nothing wrong with getting out of something that wasn’t right. 

He smiled, not pushing when you didn’t answer his question. “Then he’s a fucking idiot for letting you go. And what better way to get over someone than getting under another?”

“I dumped him,” you clarified, not knowing why you needed him to know that. Your ex was likely spewing to everyone that he dumped you to save face, but that’s not what happened. “And I’m already over him.”

You should’ve felt guilty for that, but he wasn’t your forever and you weren’t his. He was free to find someone who fit with him better than you ever did. You were free to find your own happiness. 

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked, your legs pressing together. You had to get a grip. “And I wasn’t implying that he dumped you, only that he’s an idiot for letting you go and I’m happy to help you forget all about him.”

You finally let your laugh out and you swore you heard him groan. Did he like the sound of your laughter? “You really are forward, and I just said I don’t need to get over him.”

“I said I’d help you forget about him,” he said, taking a step forward and smiling when you didn’t step back. You weren’t some wilting flower he’d pluck from the soil. “Just let me fuck him from your memories and I swear you’ll thank me when I’m done.”

You frowned. Did he think you were an easy lay, or was he picking up on your attraction to him and running with it? “I haven’t even moved into my trailer yet, so maybe you should let me get settled before you continue to… I don’t know, harass me.”

His eyebrows shot up and the amusement died in his eyes. “Harass you? That’s not what I’m doing,” he swore, taking a step back to give you space. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you or came on too strong.”

The apology took you by surprise and slowly warmed you inside. Not many people ever apologized to you for anything. “No, I’m sorry. Harass wasn’t the right word,” you said. It was just flirting. Very… strong flirting. “But if that isn’t it, what are you doing?”

He smiled after a moment, that spark back in his eyes. “Just grabbing an opportunity when I see it. Life’s too short not to,” he said.

You respected that perspective. “Is that what I am? An opportunity?” you asked. Something to get out of his system?

“I think you’re a lot more than that and that you may be running from something,” he replied, tilting his head. “Are you running from something or someone?”

He asked like he genuinely cared and you didn’t know how to process that. “I wouldn’t say I’m running,” you said, though you were running in a way, running from the life you no longer wanted. “More like I finally closed a chapter.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to getting to know you and helping you write a new chapter.”

“You say that like it’s a sure thing,” you said.

When his eyes swept over you again, it didn’t look like he was checking you out. It was as if he was trying to figure you out. “‘Cause it is,” he said, glancing at your door before you could say anything to his cocky remark. “Can help you out with repairs if you’d like.”

“I might take you up on that,” you said since you didn’t really have a clue what you were doing when it came to the handyman type of stuff. You could pay him, too. “Don’t get too excited. I said ‘might’,” you teased when he smiled. 

Something in your gut said that even if he wasn’t hitting on you that he would’ve offered to help. It was a feeling you had, just like he had a feeling about you. And sure, he looked like danger and sin and everything you should stay away from, but there was more to him than met the eye. 

What was his story? Who was the man behind the swagger and tattoos and rough edges? Did he grow up here or did he make a choice like you? 

“I run my own shop. I’m very good with my…” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Tools.”

You laughed again, louder than before, and his smile widened. “You really are something, Bucky,” he said.

“Love hearing you say my name,” he whispered, heat pooling in your gut before he pointed at your car with a whistle. “And she is a beauty. You ever need any help with her, you let me know.”

You agreed. She was a beauty. “Is this the part where you tell me you’ll take me for a ride or something like that?”

“Oh, I'll give you a ride,” he said in a low voice. “As many as you want.”

You ignored the ache between your thighs. “Not today, Bucky. I need to unpack.”

“One sec, Sweet Cheeks.”

“...Is that seriously what you’re going to call me?” you asked as he rushed to his trailer. It was ridiculous, but you didn’t hate it. You sure as hell liked it better than Pumpkin.

“‘Til the day I die,” he called back, whistling when he opened the door. “C’mere, girl. I got someone I want you to meet.”

Your brows furrowed. Who was in there who would possibly want to meet you? Did he have a kid?

You weren’t prepared for a white ball of fur to curl up in Bucky’s waiting arms. “And who is this?” you asked when he strolled back over. The image of such a beautiful cat in his arms was one that would put a smile on your face for days to come.

“This is Alpine. Found her near my shop a while back, starving and shivering. Nursed her back to health and she’s been by my side ever since,” he said, affection written all over his face. There was no bragging in his tone and that made you appreciate his story more. “Al, meet our beautiful new neighbor.”

You weren’t about to preen since he called you beautiful. “Oh, my god,” you whispered, tentatively holding a hand out to her when she lifted her head and regarded you with bright eyes. “Hi there.”

Alpine stared for a few seconds before she sniffed your fingertips and rubbed her head against them, encouraging you to pet her. You felt Bucky’s penetrating stare when you gently stroked her fur. “She’s a great judge of character,” he said, swearing under his breath. “I’m such a dick.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. He was a very forward flirt, but you didn’t get the impression that he was a dick.

“I didn’t ask if you were allergic,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “Fuck.”

Your heart turned over. No one you knew would’ve ever considered that. “I would’ve told you right away if I was allergic,” you assured him, smiling when Alpine purred. “I’m glad he was able to nurse you back to health. I’ll bet you watch over everyone around here, don't you?”

You could just imagine her being a little guardian and your heart twisted. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to get a pet. Like your trailer, you could shower a pet with love, too. 

Alpine surprised you when she moved forward and pressed her head to yours. “Fuck me,” Bucky whispered when she curled up again and closed her eyes. “She really fucking likes you.”

“Maybe she’s just being nice,” you said. 

“Trust me, she wouldn’t do that unless she really liked you,” he said, leaning down slightly to kiss the top of Alpine's head. “Would you, Al?”

Your heart melted. It wasn't fair how sweet and sexy he looked holding an animal. The only thing missing was him in a leather jacket, which you had no doubt he owned. If you ever saw him in a leather jacket holding a cat, you’d probably combust.

“Like seeing me kiss a pussy?” he asked nonchalantly when he caught you staring. 

“Oh, my god,” you giggled, not dignifying him with any other sort of response to his question. Because if you pictured him eating your pussy, your legs would start shaking and you were altready hot and bothered enough thanks to him. “I really should start bringing my stuff in,” you said. You really needed to look over your resume, too, and find a job sooner rather than later.

“Say bye, Al.” He lifted her paw to give you a wave as she meowed. 

You smiled and gave her a wave, too. “Bye bye. Thank you for the warm welcome.” It was a smooth tactic bringing his cat out. You imagined she helped win a lot of people over if his charm didn't.

“Wait,” Bucky said when went to turn away. “You sure you don't need any help? I don't mind doing any heavy lifting.”

“I can manage,” you answered. You had to get used to doing things on your own now. “But I appreciate it.”

“If you change your mind-”

“I’ll let you know.”

He frowned, but nodded. “One more thing,” he said, nodding over to a clearing. “Potluck lunch two days from now. You should stop by. Give you a chance to meet everyone.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up. “I can bake something,” you said. Something delicious that would leave a good impression on the neighbors. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You bake?”

“Yeah, I like to bake. Cakes, cookies, brownies, pies, whatever I feel like.” You shrank in on yourself, waiting for the inevitable laughter or insult. 

But it didn’t come.

Bucky merely stared when he ran his tongue over his lips. Did the man ever keep his tongue in his mouth? “Now, I think it’s only fair that I get to taste your sweet cheeks and I don’t know if I want to share.”

You shook your head. Surely you hadn’t heard him right. “...You mean my treats?” you asked. 

“Cheeks, treats, all of it. Bet it’ll all melt on my tongue,” he replied with a wink and turned away, giving you the chance to check out his ass when he slowly walked away. He spoke about worshipping your ass, but you couldn’t take your eyes off his. 

“You cocky son of a bitch,” you whispered with a smile. Of course you heard him right, and you bet he ate like a starved man. “Keep dreaming,” you called after him. 

“Oh, I will, Sweet Cheeks. I will dream about you,” he promised over his shoulder before he looked back once more. “You might just be my future wife,” he declared and went inside with Alpine while his words hung in the air. 

“Fuck me,” you breathed out, your shoulders shaking as you laughed because that just happened. 

You didn’t know how the rest of the day would go, but you did know that your new home and neighbor were going to make for a very interesting and exciting chapter in your new life.

Okay, lovelies. What do we think? Talk to me. Let me know if you love him as much as I do. And let me know where you think this is going. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[idyllwave]

30 MILLION TO 1

yandere!phainon x fem!reader | part ii. ∄

you promised phainon you could handle things, and he let you go against his better judgement. next time though, he refuses to let you go alone. however, next time may never happen.

word count | ~2k

cw | angst , death , blood, yandere!phainon , low key stalker phainon , 30 million cycles , grammatical errors , etc.

taglist

@hoonobono

Unlike most people, Phainon starts his day a bit differently. The moment he wakes up he is already pulling you close to his chest so he could hug you as tight as he could. His actions always jostle you awake as you yawn and wrap your own arms around his waist and stuff your face into his chest. He knew that if you didn’t hug him back in the morning then something was obviously wrong.

“Morning, Phainon,” you mumbled, your voice being muffled by his chest as he hugged you impossibly closer. He didn’t know why, but he very much enjoyed squeezing you. Now that he thinks about it … he believes Hyacine calls it cuteness aggression.

And like always since you both started living together, you would be up first. Somehow managed to wrestle out of his grip and get out of bed, and he would, of course, be hot on your heels. He honestly couldn’t stand not being close to you and you never said anything about his clinginess. In fact, you enabled him more often than not.

“What do you have planned for today?”

That was another thing. After he gets done training and makes some random excuse to the other Chrysos Heirs, he would quickly find himself tailing you throughout the day. His eyes soaking up any detail that he has failed to notice before while also hoping you would slip about something you’ve been keeping secret (like where you really come from). But he couldn’t say that to you, he didn’t want to see you react negatively towards anything he does. Which is why he hides the fact that he threatens any man or woman who comes your way, why he hides his tailing habits, why he hides how he is utterly obsessed with everything about you.

“Just some training,” he said simply as he started to brush his teeth right next to you in front of the mirror, his elbow sometimes knocking into yours.

You hummed as you spit out your toothpaste, “well, I have my own business to attend to today.”

He spit out his own toothpaste, “like what?”

You turned on the sink and cleaned off any toothpaste residue from your mouth before gently doing the same for Phainon which he happily leaned into your touch for.

“Professor Anaxagoras has some info for me that I had asked him about awhile ago, and asked me to meet him this afternoon.”

Phainon huffed, “I should-“

“Stay here just in case an emergency pops up,” you finished.

“But what if you run into some trouble?”

“I can assure you that I am a capable fighter Phainon.”

He gave you that look that screamed ‘I’m not too sure about that’ as you lightly pushed him with a roll of your eyes, “you were too much Phainon, I swear that I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Against his better judgement, he did let you go alone. And later on through the day, he did get busy, so he didn’t even get the chance to see you off. Much to his dismay.

Meanwhile, when you had finally reached the Grove in the afternoon, Anaxa was already waiting for you. His eye already picking you out as he gestured for you to follow him.

“Leaving Amphoreus isn’t possible right now.”

You didn’t even have to ask as he already decided to hit you hard with the truth.

“I understand… so I’m stuck here.”

Anaxa looked at you as you closed the door to his office, and leaned against it as you hung your head – he never seen you look so defeated.

“Have you told Phainon?”

You shook your head, “no… I haven’t. I thought that if we could find a way to break through this place, then I could call for help, and then tell him everything, and maybe… ask him to come with me. However, it seems I will need to find a way out of this place before I tell him everything.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to tell the truth now?”

“He has the prophecy to worry about,” you said after a moment, “I don’t want to burden him with my own problems.”

“Then why bother getting close to him?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but ended up closing it. Why? You know you aren’t apart of this world, but you ended up getting close to Phainon anyway. It wasn’t like you planned to get trapped here and fall in love with him. In fact, this place wasn’t even where you were planning to go because someone or something pulled you here. Not to mention that Phainon didn’t make it easy. He was definitely persistent.

“Because I fell in love with him.”

“Foolish,” Anaxa muttered, “utterly foolish.”

You smiled a bit sheepishly. Anaxa reminded you a lot of Dr. Ratio, but luckily Anaxa was a bit more tolerable. (Especially when you were wrong about something he didn’t throw chalk at your head…)

“Anyway, Professor-“

You jumped as there was a knock on the door. And panicked voices were yelling from the outside.

You were quick to open it as a few people bursted in causing Anaxa to step forward as well, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s the black tide! It’s here!”

“Already,” you asked, “without any warning?”

You heard about the black tide, had your reservations about it, but decided to leave the problem to the chyrsos heirs while also offering your help here and there. You didn’t think that this would happen.

“We need to evacuate,” Anaxa said, “where-“

One of the students clutched her hands to her chest, “this is everyone, Professor. The others-,” she cut herself off with a choked sob. So another student spoke up, “the escape routes were blocked off. We’re basically stuck here!”

“Why weren’t the alarms set off?”

“Someone disabled them.”

You huffed, not really understanding why everything was falling apart so quickly, but it was fine. If this was all that was left, then you would just blaze a path for the survivors. As a nameless. It was your job to trailblaze a new path.

Phainon was the first to get the emergency. His footfalls were light even as he raced through Okhema. The other Chyrsos Heirs could only try to keep up, even Mydei couldn’t catch up to the Deliverer because the moment that it was said that the Grove was attacked he was already gone. And the sight that was left for him was –

His feet felt like lead as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. His eyes refusing to look down at the bodies he had to step over or move around.

“Phainon-“

He didn’t wait to listen to what his fellow Chyrsos Heirs had to say, and he didn’t want to ask Castorice if she could sense your soul. He had to find you for himself. Wherever you are.

Like a mantra, he chanted inside his head that you were fine. Probably fighting off the last remaining enemies.

And you were, you had been at least… but a sword had plunged into the upper left side of your chest, the jagged blade splitting your heart in two. Your weapon dropped to the floor as you raised your hands to grip the blade. Your eyes staring up at a figure dressed in black, his face masked behind metal plating.

“Not part of the cycle.”

In broken words, the masked figure spoke to you, his sword plunging in just a bit deeper as the students behind you huddled close together while also protecting a knocked out Anaxa.

“Cycle? What cycle?”

You coughed as blood dribbled from your mouth and seeped from your wound. Your vision was already darkening and your body started to feel cold where the wound was as a numbness started to form around your toes and fingertips which wanted to seep and spread into your very limbs. The cloaked figure raised it’s other hand, grabbed your neck for stability, before pulling the blade from your chest and dropping you to the floor.

“Core .. not here.”

You couldn’t manage to say anything as you lied there. You could feel everything going dark as you closed your eyes.

Is this where the trailblaze ends for you?

By the time Phainon and the others make it to where the survivors were, the cloaked figure was already gone. And even as the survivors cheered for their arrival, Phainon was only focused on you and your still body being cradled in one of the girl’s arms. His steps were slow as he walked over and knelt in front of the student who was holding you.

“What happened,” he managed to ask, his hand shakily reached out to touch your face, but you were already so cold. He moved his fingers to your neck. No pulse.

“A cloaked figure attacked us, but she stood in his way. They fought for a long time before that monster got the upper hand and stabbed her through the chest… We- we think she would have won if she didn’t get injured by protecting us from the black tide.”

He hated hearing the words “would have won” because that means these students were in the way of her victory. If she didn’t protect these selfish, ignorant, undeserving people then she would still be alive. Though, he also has the cloaked figure to blame as well… like a nightmare that monster seems to fester.

“Deliverer. You’re scaring them.”

He snapped out of his thoughts and noticed that he had ripped your body from the girl’s grasp and pulled you close to his chest. And the look on his face… just looking at the students he could tell that he had struck fear into them. And truthfully, he didn’t care.

He stood up and picked up your body as well. One arm was hooked under your knees while the other supported your back so that your head was resting against his chest.

“Good.”

After your death, the cycle continued as it always had and ended just like before with him resetting and starting the cycle anew.

When he walked through Okhema’s gates for the first time, he had immediately set out to find you. Though, throughout the years that he had lived there, day in and day out, you were never in sight. Even when he had become a Chyrsos Heir you had made no appearance. Before too long, he had went through one hundred different cycles but you hadn’t appeared again.

It was like you had never existed in the first place.

Meanwhile, you were resting a palm over your chest as you sat in the Astral Express infirmary. Your memories on what had happened being lost on your as Himeko told you that they found floating around in space with a massive wound in your chest. And you couldn’t even tell them nor remember how you got there. The last thing you remember was leaving to check a stellaron reading.

“Mannn, well, I guess it’s better than losing all my memories.”

“No kidding,” March said as she, Dan Heng, Welt, and a person you never met before entered the room.

And you learned that this person was named Stelle. A new member of the Astral Express. Also a person who currently housed a stellaron in their body…

“I feel like I missed so much.”

“You did. Thankfully, since we’re going to Penacony next, you can finally have some time to rest and relax.”

That was another thing you learned, you have been missing for about one to two years now. But that was alright, you were sure that you would get back into the swing of things eventually. And hey, maybe they were right. Penacony, as you had heard, was a lot like a fancy resort of some kind. So some fun and relaxation was definitely what you needed.

[heartz-for-de]

“Current boyfriend” prank on MHA boys.

—“I’m your what?”

—multiple X fem! Reader

—includes: Izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugo, eijirou kirishima, denki kaminari, shinso Hitoshi.

—warnings: mentions of making out, swearing, teenage boy humor, sorry if I forget anything else

!!NOT PROOFREAD!! It’s three am sorry I cannot bring myself to do that I’ll do to later maybe probably not

—IZUKU—

You had been scrolling through TikTok for what seemed to be forever, until a certain video caught your eye. It was a trend done by a couple consisting of the girlfriend introducing her partner as her “current boyfriend”. You couldn’t help but laugh at the boys reaction to the label.

While sitting and giggling at your phone you looked at Izuku who was present in your dorm. He’d been at your desk for awhile now, going over some quirk notes he’d needed to fix. You then got a pleasant idea.

“Hey, Izu?” You called out to him from your bed.

He looked up from his paper, his ears already tinted pink.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He now had his full body turned to you.

“I need to film a TikTok for this brand I’m reviewing, do you want to be in it with me?” You hated lying to him, but it you knew the joke was going to have a rewarding outcome.

He smiled softly, “of course, baby. Let me finish this up real fast, I’m almost done.” He muttered out quickly.

You used the extra time to set up your phone and grab a random item from your drawers to “review”. You couldn’t hide the smile that was so blatantly apparent on your face.

Soon enough Izuku got up from his spot and made his way to your setup. He stood kind of behind and to the side, waiting for your instruction.

You then started the video.

“Hey Guys! Today I’m going to be reviewing this new mascara—Annnndd as a special guest I’m here with my current boyfriend,” you gestured your hands to him with a stifled laugh. “Izuku, say hi.” You turned your head slightly to look at him, only to be met with a confused and concerned look. You nearly broke on the spot at his expression.

“Current?” Was all he responded with.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to hide your coughing fit of laughter. He then let a smile spread on his face.

“Uh—hey guys! I’m midoriya, her forever boyfriend! I don’t know why she said current, don’t listen to her.” Izuku grabbed you and covered your mouth with his hand—it was in moments like these where you were reminded how strong he truly was. You could hear the laughter spilling from his own mouth as he locked you in his arms and fumbled to grab your phone.

—SHOTO—

It wasn’t really your intention to do the trend, but when shoto had come up to you and asked if you wanted to film a soba review for your TikTok account? The idea popped into your head like a lightbulb.

There was a new place in town that shoto had been nonstop hinting at wanting to try, so one day after training the two of you stopped by and ordered some soba. He remembered your desert review you had done with him several weeks prior and realized you could do the same thing here.

You agreed cheerfully at the recommendation and whipped out your phone in a heartbeat. It didn’t take long to open up TikTok and get your video set up.

“Hey guys! I’m back with my current boyfriend, but this time we are reviewing soba from—“ you felt a poke in your side.

You snapped your head to the man beside you.

“You said it wrong.” He deadpanned at you.

“Huh? Sho, what are you talking about—“ you were on the brink of busting out laughing at his serious face but you held it together.

“You said ‘current’, I don’t think that’s the appropriate term for what I am to you.” His eyes squinted as he explained where you had went wrong.

“Oh no, I just mean like you’re my current boyfriend. Yknow I’m with you..currently.” You tried to explain something that sounded somewhat believable.

“Oh. Well, I’m not sure if I like that.” His eyebrows were now furrowed as he looked down at the table in thought. “I’d rather just be your boyfriend, I don’t like what the word current infers to our relationship.”

You nearly combusted from his honest and sweet response. “Awww, sho I’m sorry. You aren’t my current boyfriend.” You apologized as you looked back at the camera and smiled, realizing it’d still filming.

“It’s okay—I just wouldn’t want people to think we are temporary. You are going to be my girlfriend forever,” his voice cut off quickly. “Wait no, that is until I marry you.” He finished with a calm look resurfacing on his face.

You looked at the boy next to you with watery eyes. You couldn’t help the squeal that left your mouth as you hugged him tightly from the side, the boy shooting you a shocked look.

—KATSUKI—

It was entirely Mina’s idea. You were in the common room filming an outfit of the day with the pink haired girl, when all of the sudden Katsuki had strolled into the vicinity. Mina pointed with an excited look, to which you questioned what she was acting so antsy about. She then reminded you of the trend you had seen earlier, stating how funny it would be to do it to bakugo. You thought for a second, but ultimately decided to go through with the risky idea. You called him over from the couches and pulled him into the frame where you and Mina had just been.

“The fuck is this.” He looked at you off camera.

“It’s an outfit check, Kats. Here let me help you.” You latched onto his arm and pulled yourself into frame.

“Kay guys, this is my current boyfriend and he’s gonna tell you what he’s—“ before you could finish you felt bakugo strip himself from your arms and snatch the phone from the counter. Mina immediately was sucked into a fit of cackles.

“Katsuki!” You tried to grab your phone from his grasp but he gave you no leverage, only scowling and side eyeing you.

“Current boyfriend my fucking ass. Like hell there’ll be another extra after me.” He grumbled out to you. Mina was still dying from laughter, the more he spoke the less oxygen she seemed to intake.

“That’s not what I meant, I just meant I’m with you currently.” You reasoned with the angry boy.

“Yeah I think the fuck not, you’re mine always. Not currently.” He huffed.

“I know, but I’m dating you right now aren’t I? That’s current.” You replied with a giggle while trying to grab your phone back.

“I’m about to blast your phone into the damn ground, stop saying that shit.” He held the phone just out of reach with a snarl of his teeth.

“Okay, okay! You aren’t my current boyfriend, you’re gonna be my man forever!” You let out the words quickly, all while still trying to apprehend your phone from his heated hands.

“Damn right I am. Now re-do that dumbass video and say that shit to the camera.” He said, finally giving the phone back.

—EIJIROU—

Close to the beginning of your relationship, Kirishima had came up with the brilliant idea to make a joint couples account. It had grown popular over the years you had been together—the videos you two posted consisting of cute trends and gym trips. You were at the gym, filming a small video like usual, when you saw a comment on a previous post that had caught some traction.

“Herolvvr55: omg! Yall are def gonna be my fav pro hero couple when yall become official heros! Doing the current bf trend on him would be sooooo funny:))”

you stared at the comment, holy shit she was so right. Your sweet, unknowing boyfriend was soon to be a victim of her plans.

As you started scheming how you’d say it, you felt two large hands come up around your waist.

“Babeeuhhhh, are you almost ready to start our sets? It’s leg day today, so you don’t have anything to stall for.” Kirishima laid his head in the crook of your shoulder, speaking in a sing songy voice.

“Yeah! We gotta film some clips for TikTok, so let me set it up.” You told him with a smug smile. He nodded with understanding and retracted his hands so you could get everything in order. You set up the camera and pressed record as he started putting some weight on the bar.

“Hey guys! We are at the gym today. I think after we are gonna go do some sparring, but I’m not sure.” You tried to start the video normally, not wanting your boyfriend to grow suspicious of you so early on.

“Baby, cmere. I wanna show them our matching workout fits.” You dragged Kiri to where the phone was propped up, flexing slightly once you were both in frame.

“You look great in red, babe. You should wear it more often.” He giggled slightly as he matched your pose, flexing one of his arms as the other fell onto your waist.

“I should! Guys if you didn’t know, my current boyfriend’s pro hero name is red rio—“ you felt his hand drop from your waist as he took a step back. You broke your stare from the camera to see you 6’1 boyfriend with his head cocked back and a nasty look on his face.

“I am not your current boyfriend, ma’am.” He retaliated rather quickly. “Better change whatever the heck you just said, I’m not afraid to change today’s workout to upper body.” He crossed his arms around his chest.

“What? Eji, it was a joke! Please don’t, I really don’t want to do arms.” You pouted as he kept his frame turned from you.

“Then take it back.” He ordered. “Please.”

You huffed softly. “Guys, prank failed, my boyfriend hates me and won’t let me have any fun ever.” You fake sobbed.

“Wrong and even wronger.” He got close to the camera, leaving only his face visible in the frame. “Guys I’m not her current boyfriend, I’m her husband—AND I do not hate her, I love her so much that even when she does these cruel jokes, I still buy her whatever snacks she wants.”

You laughed while trying to pull him back from the cameras view.

“We are not married you big baby! Cmon we need to get started on the workout.” You yanked at his arm.

As you were walking towards the squat rack, Kirishima turned to the camera one last time.

“We aren’t married yet.” He whispered so that you couldn’t hear over the Loud ambiance of the gym.

“EJIROU! if you don’t get your ass over here and come spot me I will never let you kiss me again.” You shouted at the red haired boy.

He snapped his head you, jogging over to the rack as well. “yes ma’am!” He couldn’t help the laughter that came with his words as the two of you went about your workout.

—DENKI—

You had planned it hours before, texting denki asking if he’d want to hang out later that day. He texted back almost immediately, telling you to come to his dorm whenever you were ready. With the go ahead, you began your journey to the cluttered room. You barely even got one knock in before he swung open the door with a weird smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey gorgeous, never seen you around here before.” He reached for your hand and grabbed it swiftly, placing a soft kiss on your fingers.

“Hi, I’m looking for my boyfriend, have you seen him?” You asked the yellow haired boy.

“Uhhh, dunno. What’s he look like?” He continued the joke.

“Short, messy hair, probably has some drool running down his chin. You’d know if you saw him, trust me.” His expression immediately dropped as he pulled himself off the doorframe.

“Short?—DROOL? babe I don’t drool, and I’m like almost six foot. Why do you hate me so much?” He mocked offense at the obviously false statements.

“You’re such a dork, I don’t hate you.” You sighed “Are you gonna let me in, or are we gonna sit here and talk about your drooling problems?” You rolled your eyes at him with a smile inching its way onto your lips.

He moved to the side and gestured dramatically for your entrance.

You scoffed at his overly emphasized actions. You then turned back towards him once fully inside the room.

“I’m gonna film a TikTok, mkay?” You told him as you pulled out your phone.

“Huh? What kind? Are you gonna dance—oh that would be so hot.” He rambled as he shut his door, plopping himself onto his messy bed.

“No, you perv, I’m not gonna dance. I’m gonna talk about….” You instantly realized you had no good excuse for making one “…girl stuff.” you said with an almost unsure undertone.

Of course, denki didn’t catch on to that, though.

“Okie dokie, tell me whenever you’re done. There’s this new movie I wanna look at and I’ve heard it’s fire.” He crossed one leg over the other as you grabbed your phone out of your pocket, opening TikTok with a weird smile.

“What’s up guys, sorry for the scenery change! I’m in my current boyfriend’s dorm, so it’s a little messy. But anyways I’m j—“ you were snatched from your place you stood, your phone getting dropped onto the floor almost immediately.

You felt his hands reaching to tickle your sides as you tried to fight him off.

“DENKI—Oh my gosh! Cut it out—“ you fought tirelessly as the blankets tussled underneath your two bodies.

“Nope, say mercy.” He stated matter of factly. You snarked at the boy, unwilling to let your pride get damaged like that.

That was until he grabbed a specifically ticklish part and you began thrashing uncontrollably.

“MERCY—HOLYSHITMERCY!” you cackled.

He sat up in his bed, an innocent expression appearing onto his face.

“Great! Now apologize for calling me your current boyfriend to your TikTok. They are gonna think I’m some cuck loser—“ you smacked his shoulder from where you still laid.

“Denki nobody is gonna think that you freak. It was just a prank.” You let out small huffs of air, still out of breath.

“Ohhhh. Well, prank or not. I’m not current nothin’. You’re stuck with me forever, sorry not sorry pretty girl.” He flopped into you, his body weight crushing you beneath him.

“Ow! You’re too heavy for this!” You pushed at his shoulders while trying to get him off.

“We could so make out right now.” He said as he propped himself onto his elbows while still ontop of you.

“Denki, if you do not get the hell off of me I will kick you straight in the dick.” you ordered harshly.

“Okay, that’s unneeded and unnecessarily aggressive.” He whined.

—SHINSO—

It was a lazy day, as shinso liked to call it. Which, in technical terms, was everyday. But this one was specifically lazy since all you two had been doing was laying in his bed and cuddling. You were playing with his hair for what seemed like an eternity, his soft grunts whenever you’d scratch his scalp egging you on.

Your leg was thrown over his own, his hand resting on your thigh. His other hand was rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you two talked about anything and everything on and off for hours.

Out of the blue you had gotten a sudden urge to start something, but you were unsure of what to say. You looked up at him, his eyes planted on the ceiling as he continued to softly caress you. He truly was a great boyfriend, you thought. Oh shit—boyfriend. You had seen a video on your for you page earlier that day of a girl referring to her partner as her “current boyfriend” and the man had a rather funny reaction. You wondered for a second about how Hitoshi would respond, giggling softly to yourself at the thought.

He broke his gaze from the ceiling and brought it back to you.

“What’s so funny?” He questioned in a sleepy voice.

“Hmm? Nothin’, jus’ thinking about…how cute you are.” You chose to say something different than your actual thoughts, still deciding on whether or not you wanted to go through with the joke.

“…you are such a cornball.” He laughed softly with his deep and velvety voice.

You jokingly pushed on his chest in response. You came to the conclusion that you’d do the prank, but just wouldn’t record it. Instead you’d keep it as a funny memory in your brain between the two of you.

“So I was talking to my friend earlier, and she didn’t know who you were— can you believe that?” You started off a small conversation.

“Mmmm, is that so?” He turned his head back to the ceiling as he let his hand begin to massage your thigh.

“Yeah, and I had to explain to her. I was like, well he’s my current boyfriend—“ you felt his grub tighten ever so slightly.

“No.” Was all he said.

“Huh, what do you mean no?” You questioned, even though you were very aware of why he’d said that.

“I mean no.” He half opened one of his eyes and peered down at you. “You didn’t say that, you know better.”

You let your cheeks heat up slightly. “What are you talking about? You are my current boyfriend.” You tried to explain, but it fell on deaf ears.

“No, I’m not, baby. But you already knew that. This little joke you’re doing is cute though.” he loosened his grip as he revealed that he knew your plan.

“Ugh, how did you know? I can’t ever prank you.” You whined as you shoved your face into his shoulder.

“Course you can’t, I know my girl too well. Now if you don’t mind I’m trying to go to sleep.” He let out another low laugh.

“We’ve been sleeping all day, it’s time to get up.” You groaned in boredom.

“Yeah, absolutely not.” Was all he responded with before flipping the position you two were in, laying him ontop of you. He laughed as you squirmed, trying to break free from his weight.

“Toshi! I can’t move!” You gripped at the already half asleep shinso.

“That’s kinda the whole point, sweetheart.”

[moonstruckme]

please give us another part of gentleman Steve!!! So so sweet I need to see what happens when they confess their feelings for each other or he asks her out on a date !! I can picture him making a big deal out of “doing it properly” - getting her favourite flowers and asking her out super formally

I'm glad you liked it angel! Thanks for requesting <3

part 1

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Whoa.” You raise your eyebrows as Steve comes around to open your car door, though you’ve already opened it partway yourself. “Chivalrous.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but can’t suppress a smile. You can tease him all you want. He is feeling very fucking chivalrous tonight, and proud of it. 

You’re getting the entire first date experience. Steve picked you up at your house, rang the doorbell and everything—a notable improvement from his teenage self, who would’ve just honked. Your sweet little gasp at the bunch of flowers in his hand confirmed that he’d remembered correctly; azaleas are your favorite. You acted shy and flustered, and Steve had been gallant and as charming as he could manage given how pretty you looked. (You’d think he’d be used to you by now, but no. It seems like he might never stop being bowled over by you.) He’s taken you to dinner—where you argued vehemently against him paying the bill—and now a to movie. 

If he’s lucky, Steve hopes you’ll let him drag you out for ice cream after this, or else sit in his car parked in front of your house and keep talking for a while. You can spend a whole day together, and Steve still won’t want to let you go at the end of it. 

He’s too chicken to put his arm around you as you walk into the theater. He can’t remember ever being this nervous on a date before. Steve wonders if he didn’t really care on all the previous ones, or if it’s just that he cares so much more now, but the difference is palpable. His stomach is in knots. He’s very conscious of his hair, which he’d spent time on before coming to get you only to have you mess it up with a fluff of your hand and a you look nice tonight, Stevie. As you approach the concessions, you’re the brave one, taking Steve’s hand to pull him towards the line you deem shortest. 

“What’re you gonna get?” you ask him. 

“I don’t know.” Steve’s heartbroken when you drop his hand, but he tries to put on a brave face. “What’re you thinking?” 

You nibble your lip. Steve feels like his insides are under attack. “I’m thinking…I can’t decide between something chocolatey and something not. Would you wanna split?” 

“Sure,” he says thoughtlessly. Your lip comes free, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t collapse with relief. “But I want junior mints.” 

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “You’re fucking sick. Junior mints?” 

“Hey, a lot of girls have approved of my choice of junior mints,” Steve says, then wants to die. Jesus Christ. He could not have said anything dumber. 

Not only to lump you in with all the other girls he’s gone out with, but—he has no idea if you’ll be kissing later. He doesn’t want you to think that he cares, or that he’s thinking about it, even if obviously he’s going to be thinking about it. Steve doesn’t know if you’re the type to kiss on the first date. It’s a weird thing to think about, because he knows you. Steve feels like he knows you inside and out, better than almost anybody, but he has no clue what you’re like on a date.

“Well, maybe you just attract sick freaks who like toothpaste-flavored candy.” You shoot him a sideways look, teasing. “Forget splitting, though. I’ll get my own.” 

“More for me.” Steve shrugs. 

At the counter, you fall into the same argument you had at dinner. 

“Stop,” you laugh, trying doggedly to hold your money out to the cashier while Steve blocks you and counts out his own cash. You’re surprisingly strong when you want to be, but not strong enough to move him. “Steve! This isn’t fair.” 

He can’t help laughing a little with you. “Just leave it.” 

“No! You got dinner, it’s my turn.” 

“I’m getting both.” 

“Since when?” You start trying to reach over him, pleading all the while with the cashier to ignore Steve’s money and take yours. You’re acting crazy; it probably makes Steve even crazier that he finds it cute. 

Steve pays. You’re still fighting with him about it as you walk up the stairs in your theater, looking for seats. Steve starts towards the back of the room, but you shoot him a confused look, detouring towards your normal seats in the middle row instead. Again, he wants to hit himself. 

“This is misogyny,” you whisper as you make your way down the row. “What, you think I have to let you pay for everything just because you’re a guy?” 

“I’m paying because I’m the one who asked you out,” he says. “Not because I’m a guy.” 

You stop. Steve thinks you mean to sit down here—it’s not nearly as centered in the row as you usually like to be, but whatever—but when he starts to lower himself into a seat you grab the front of his shirt, keeping him where he is. 

“Steve,” you say, the shifting colors of some ad casting themselves over your face, “is this a date?” 

Steve’s heart falls through his stomach. 

“I—shit. Isn’t it?” he asks, breathless. He feels like he’s had the air knocked out of him. 

For a stretch of seconds, you only look at him. Your mouth tightens and parts; your brows twitch closer together; your tongue pokes into your cheek. Then you say, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Steve echoes dumbly. 

“Yeah. I mean…” You shrug, doing that thing where you smile with just a little bit of your mouth and a lot of your eyes that landed Steve with this godforsaken crush in the first place. “It’s nice. I’m glad we’re on a date, I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m happy.” 

“But you didn’t know,” Steve says. You shake your head. “How did you not know? I asked you if you wanted to go to dinner and a movie on a Friday night.” 

You look at him like he’s lost it. “I thought we were just going to dinner and a movie. We get food and watch movies all the time, don’t we?” 

“Yeah, but not together. Like, dinner and a movie is a thing. It’s a known thing.” 

You appear dubious of this. Steve lets out an appalled breath, sinking down into his seat. 

“What about the flowers? And I picked you up at your front door. When have we ever done that?” 

“I thought you just felt like being extra nice.” You sit down next to him, getting situated with your drink in the cupholder and the popcorn in your lap. “You’re kind of moody, you know.” 

“I am not,” he grumbles. 

“You so are.” You laugh, eyes twinkly in the low light. It softens Steve some. You look at him, and your expression does that shifting thing again, like you can’t quite decide how to feel. “Hey, are you mad at me?” 

“No.” 

“Really?” 

“No, I’m not mad.” Steve reaches an arm around your shoulders, rewarded when you lean into him comfortably. He does mean it; he’s a bit indignant that all of his romantic efforts went unnoticed, but at least you’re here. You’re here, and you’re happy to be on a date with him. Now that you know you’re on one. 

It’s a few moments of easy silence like that before you sit up abruptly. “Oh. Were you trying to go to the back row? Like, as a date thing?” 

Steve’s face flushes hot. He’s grateful for the darkened room. “No.” 

“No, you were right.” You start picking up your snacks, standing from your seat. “Let’s move.”

[imtaashu]

2𝚊𝚖 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚃𝚞𝚋𝚎 𝚅𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘.

✮ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

✮ Summary: You wake up to the sound of Bucky whispering under the covers—watching YouTube tutorials on how to make you smile. You don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or never let go of him again.

✮ Genre: clingy soft Bucky, emotional support fluff, comfort after sadness, secret boyfriend tenderness, crying but in a good way, love you can feel in your ribs

✮ Word Count: ~1.2k

✮ Author Notes✍️ : He’s not just watching cat videos. He’s learning how to love you right. At 2am. In a whisper. With a furrowed brow and his whole entire heart 🥺💻

~ bucky barnes will ruin you in 2 ways: clinginess or pure emotional carnage. masterlist’s right here, darling. 🫶~

It’s 2:17 a.m. when you wake up. The bed dips beside you.

Blankets are rustling, but softly—like someone’s trying really, really hard not to wake you.

You blink blearily into the dark. Bucky’s sitting up, hunched forward under the covers with a faint blue glow lighting his face.

You squint.

…Is that your laptop?

“Bucky?”

He jumps. Literally flinches like he’s been caught committing a federal crime.

“Hey,” he whispers, slamming the laptop shut like it might self-destruct. “You weren’t supposed to wake up—go back to sleep, I was just—”

“…Were you watching YouTube?”

He’s blushing. You can hear it in the dark.

“…Maybe.”

You sit up, reaching for the laptop. “What were you—”

“No, wait—!”

Too late. The screen lights up again, still halfway loaded on the video he paused mid-whisper.

“HOW TO MAKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND SMILE WHEN SHE’S SAD 🥺❤️ (10 Tips That ACTUALLY WORK)”

You freeze.

He groans and buries his face in his hands.

“I knew the thumbnail was too much,” he mumbles.

You just stare “…Were you really watching that?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at you “I just—” His voice is rough, wrecked. “You’ve been quiet lately. And I thought—maybe if you were ever sad and didn’t say anything, I could still know how to fix it. I just wanted to be better at… that. For you.”

Your chest cracks open. Like an eggshell. Like a sunbeam. Like something tender.

You blink fast “James.”

He still won’t look at you.

“Hey,” you whisper, reaching for him “Baby. Look at me.”

He finally does. His eyes are glassy. Wide. Embarrassed.

And you don’t say anything else.

You just kiss him. Soft. Deep. Heart first.

He melts. Right there, under the covers at 2:20 a.m., laptop still between you, guilty search history exposed to the world—he melts in your arms like your lips are the only thing tethering him to solid ground.

When you finally pull back, your eyes are wet.

“Y-You’re crying,” he whispers, stunned. “Oh no—I messed it up—”

“No,” you breathe, shaking your head. “You didn’t. I’m crying because I didn’t think I could love you more. And then you go and do this.”

He sniffles.

“You already make me smile when I’m sad,” you say. “Every time you bring me tea. Or hold my hand. Or look at me like I’m the only thing that matters.”

“You are the only thing that matters,” he murmurs.

Your face crumples again. “God, stop being perfect.”

“I literally typed ‘how to be a good boyfriend’ into YouTube twelve minutes ago.”

“Exactly. Perfect.”

⸻

Later, you fall asleep curled up against him, laptop still open beside you.

He watches you. Then whispers softly into the mic:

“Hey YouTube. Mission accomplished.”

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────────

💌 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 💌

@nerdreader @starstruckfirecat @baguwagu @sunday-bug @murnsondock @thiscornerofmyfanficbrain @okaytrashpanda @aceofheartsssss @the-real-kellymonster🎀🩷

wanna be tagged in all upcoming theories + emotional damage + forehead kisses? ➝ reply or send me an ask and i’ll add you ♡

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────────

[thatonegrimm]

GRIMMMMM hear me out okay, i have a vision

400 years ago, jinu left y/n to live a lavish life, to gwi -ma comes to her offering her to finally be someone, she is stupid and takes the deal

400 years later, she’s telling gwi-ma to trust her, because, yes she did in fact join huntrix. she convinced gwi-ma it was all a plan, (it wasn’t, she just realized she couldn’t hear him anymore if she was the one helping seal the honmoon) and the saja boys debut. yada yada jinu and y/n are tensely reunited, and after the idol awards y/n is desperately trying to get out of gwi-ma’s hold now that the honmoon was broken. y/n and jinu make up (or out, it’s up to you), yada yada after that whole.. thing with ‘what it sounds like’ y/n and jinu have to sit down with everyone and explain their whole past but they’re in love so it’s fine

please feel free to take creative freedom lol, it’s a specific request but make it fun for you!! i adore your writing style so i think you would do it justice. love you lots! 🩷

This request absolutely possessed me—I took your idea and ran full sprint. Thank you so much for trusting me with this one. I had way too much fun. Sending love (and maybe a fire extinguisher) 💖🔥

"Four Hundred Years and a Name"

Summary: A second-chance soulburn fic featuring ancient regrets, demon bargains, and a deeply awkward post-battle team debrief. Featuring a little betrayal, a lot of fire, and Jinu being very tired. ---------------------------------------------

Then-1623 Joseon Dynasty

He left you for gold.

He said it was opportunity. A place in a noble house. Training, security, titles—things you’d both dreamed about when you were kids, sleeping under crumbling temple roofs and naming stars you couldn’t touch.

“I’ll come back once things are stable,” he’d said.

You remember the way he held your face when he said it. Callused hands. A fire behind his eyes that made you believe him.

“I’ll send for you. I promise.”

And you, stupid thing that you were, had smiled and kissed him like that was forever.

You believed him.

Because back then, love felt like something holy—carved in fire and blood and whispered across shared blades. You’d stitched your soul to his without ceremony.

You would’ve followed him anywhere.

But he didn’t ask you to follow.

He just went.

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

The letters came for a while. Formal. Tightly worded. Still kind, still Jinu—but always less.

He asked about your sword drills. Told you about soft beds and formal etiquette lessons. About how no one looked him in the eye unless they were bowing.

He told you he was learning how to hold a wine glass.

He didn’t ask if you were lonely.

Eventually, the letters stopped.

You heard rumors. That he was thriving. That his new patron praised his obedience. That he had a title now. New clothes. New name.

New life.

You tried to be proud of him.

Tried to forget the sound of his laughter echoing through midnight training grounds. The way his fingers had once laced through yours after your first successful hunt. The way he'd said always, like it was something he could protect you with.

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

Then the sky cracked.

The war hit like a second sun — too fast, too bright, too much.

One moment you were hunting petty demons, chasing shadows through forests. The next, entire provinces were swallowed. Civilians disappeared. Elders fell.

And he didn’t come back.

You searched the battlefield with a name in your throat and blood on your hands, half-hoping, half-fearing you’d find his body.

But you didn’t even find his shadow.

You broke something in yourself that night.

And still, you screamed his name into the smoke.

It wasn’t him who answered.

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

He came in silk and soot, drifting like incense over burning ground. His eyes glowed like open wounds. His voice didn’t echo — it hummed, low and warm and interested.

Gwi-Ma.

“You called for him,” he said. “But he didn’t come.”

You said nothing. You couldn’t speak. Not past the bitter iron in your mouth.

“You waited,” he went on. “Even after he abandoned you. That’s loyalty. That’s beautiful.”

You flinched at the word.

He smiled.

“You were supposed to be important,” he said softly. “Weren’t you? Supposed to be more than a footnote in someone else’s story.”

You stood. Bloody. Broken. Burning from the inside out.

He stepped closer.

“I can give you that,” he whispered. “Power. Purpose. A new name. No one will ever leave you behind again.”

You didn’t believe him.

But you were tired.

Tired of being the girl people outgrew.

Tired of loving things that didn’t stay.

Tired of waiting to matter.

“All you have to do,” he said, “is say yes.”

You didn’t even pause.

You said it.

Because you were young. Because you were furious.

Because you were stupid enough to think it would hurt less if you were the one doing the leaving next time.

But most of all—

Because you still loved him.

And it was easier to serve a monster—than admit you’d never stopped waiting for someone who left.

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

Now—December 2025

You tell Gwi-Ma it was all part of the plan.

Of course it was. Of course you infiltrated Huntrix.

A spy. A sleeper. A weapon tucked neatly into the heart of your enemy.

That’s what he wanted to hear. And he believed you. Why wouldn’t he? You’d spent centuries in his shadow, dancing on his leash, bleeding for the scraps of power he dripped into your veins.

You wore his sigil like a wound. Let it settle into your skin, just below your ribs, where it could hurt the most. You told yourself you’d carved out the part of you that still remembered what it felt like to be loved. To be chosen. To be held without conditions.

And for a while, it worked.

You stopped dreaming about him.

You stopped waking up angry.

You stopped hoping.

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

But then the girls happened.

Rumi, with her steady eyes and sharp blade. Mira, with her cold anger that mirrored your own. Zoey, loud and soft and trying so hard to belong.

You liked them. That part wasn’t a lie.

What was a lie: when you told Gwi-Ma you were only pretending.

Because somewhere between the training missions and the shared hotel rooms and the long nights whispering confessions under starlight, something shifted.

You stopped thinking like a weapon.

You started thinking like a person again.

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

And for the first time in centuries, you felt free.

For the first time in centuries, you realized something horrifying and wonderful:

You couldn’t hear him.

Not when you were with them.

Not when you worked on sealing the Honmoon with your own voice, watching the light close around you like absolution.

You broke the tether. Cut off his voice.

It almost felt like peace.

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

And then the Saja Boys debuted.

The whole world fell in love with them overnight. A demon-hunting boy group, flashy and talented and impossibly cool.

You didn’t care.

Not until you saw him.

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

You see Jinu again for the first time at the Winter Idol Awards.

The noise is deafening—fans screaming, lights flashing, cameras panning—but somehow, he’s still the first thing you see when you step offstage.

He’s standing in the wings like a ghost from another life, hair slicked back, stage makeup softening the angles of his jaw. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. That mouth. That heartbeat carved into yours.

His hands glow a faint violet, patterns pulsing up over his chest. There’s something different about him now. Taller. Sharper. Calmer, maybe. But it’s not just time.

He’s grown into his power.

He looks like someone who knows exactly who he is.

You hate how your chest tightens.

You feel it before your brain catches up—him. That familiar pull. Not the markings. Not Gwi-Ma’s brand. Just... him.

Old knowing. Old ache.

You wonder if he feels it too.

He doesn’t look at you.

Not right away.

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

But when he does—when his eyes finally lift and find yours across a blur of falling glitter and artificial snow—your whole world halts.

It’s not surprise on his face.

It’s recognition.

And then—

Guilt.

So much guilt it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. Like he’s been carrying it for centuries and it just broke the surface.

You freeze.

He takes a step forward.

You turn before he can say your name.

Because you're not ready.

Because you don’t know if you'll forgive him—

Or if you’ll fall apart.

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

That Night

You don’t make it back to the hotel.

You barely make it past the parking lot.

The moment you slip away from Rumi and the others—half-lie about needing air, half-prayer that you won’t be followed—you feel it.

A pull.

Sharp. Vicious. Like a hook digging into your ribs and dragging you somewhere you swore you’d never go again.

A heat that isn’t yours. A whisper behind your teeth. Your vision blurs at the edges, black curling in from the corners like smoke.

You know what it means.

He’s awake.

The Honmoon is broken.

And Gwi-Ma is hungry again.

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

You stumble into the alley behind the venue, lungs heaving, throat already thick with pressure. The city feels too quiet. The neon signs flicker like something’s sucking the magic from the air.

You slam your palm against the concrete, fingers glowing, a ward sigil sketching itself under your skin. You speak the binding tongue like your life depends on it.

Because it does.

You chant in every dialect you remember, mixing ancient scripts and desperate breath. Your voice breaks. Blood pools at the edge of your mouth.

The mark on your ribs flares white-hot.

You scream.

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

“I told you,” a voice rasps behind you. “You belong to me.”

You whip around, staggered and wild-eyed.

He’s not fully formed—not yet—but the shape of him is unmistakable. Fire and shadow. Fluid and flickering. Gwi-Ma doesn’t walk; he spills into the space like he owns it.

His presence presses against your chest, suffocating. Familiar in a way that makes your stomach turn.

“No,” you spit, voice shaking. “You lost me the moment you tried to keep me.”

He smiles. Smoke curls from the corners of his lips.

“I made you,” he hisses. “You were nothing until me. You had nothing. He left. And I found you.”

You take a step back. “You used me.”

The sigil flares again on your ribs—bright, agonizing. The ward shudders behind you. Cracks like glass under strain.

You fall to your knees, panting. Your fingers shake too hard to hold the next rune. Your magic is unraveling.

You’re not strong enough.

Not alone.

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

Then—

The air changes.

Like pressure breaking before a storm.

The shadows ripple, twist—and split open.

And he’s there.

Jinu.

He lands like a blade driven into earth—shoulders squared, hands already lit with blue flame, sigils crawling up his arms in pulsing light. He doesn’t say a word. He just moves between you and the monster.

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

“You shouldn’t be here,” you breathe. Your voice is smaller than you want it to be.

“This isn’t your fight.”

His head tilts. Just slightly. His voice, when it comes, is soft.

“You know that’s not true.”

You try to laugh, but it catches on a sob. “You left me.”

“I know.”

“You chose them,” you say, biting each word like it’s a curse. “You chose power. You chose to forget me.”

“I did,” he whispers. “And I regretted it for four centuries.”

The air between you cracks. It’s not magic—it’s memory. A wound that never closed.

Your chest aches like something inside you is trying to escape.

Behind him, Gwi-Ma screeches, his voice tearing like fire down your spine. His claws extend, molten and growing. His form begins to solidify—spikes of bone and blistering heat.

“You can’t beat him,” you say, panic creeping in.

Jinu doesn’t flinch.

“I’m not going to beat him.”

He turns.

Reaches for you.

“I’m going to unmake him.”

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

You hesitate.

Not because you don’t believe him.

But because his hand is open like it was all those years ago—and you remember what it cost to take it the first time.

But this isn’t the same boy.

And you’re not the same girl.

So you take it.

And when your fingers thread together, the mark on your ribs flares red—

But his devours it.

Blue light arcs from his hand to yours, racing across your veins. The alley fills with light so bright it stings your teeth.

Old magic. New magic. Every apology he never got to say screaming out of the earth like thunder.

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

The fight doesn’t last long.

Because you’re not who you were 400 years ago.

And neither is he.

You burn.

He binds.

Your flames eat through the cracks in Gwi-Ma’s forming body—no longer borrowed power, but yours. Jinu’s sigils tighten like chains, sealing him in place, cracking his core open from the inside out.

You see Gwi-Ma’s face flicker—rage, then disbelief.

And then fear.

He dies screaming your name.

And this time—

You do not look back.

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

Now —The Couch

You’re both sitting on the Saja Boys’ couch.

Slightly singed. Definitely traumatized. Somehow sharing the same blanket someone threw over you during triage.

Across from you is the world's most judgmental semi-circle of demon hunters. A half-eaten pizza box sits on the coffee table between you and your mistakes.

Rumi hasn’t spoken since you walked in. She’s sitting ramrod straight, expression unreadable, fingers clasped together like she’s praying not to kill you.

Mira has her arms crossed and one knee bouncing in that specific “I am this close to sparring for answers” way. Her blade is not out, which is generous of her.

Zoey’s clutching a fire extinguisher in both hands like it’s a weighted emotional support object. Her hair’s frizzed at the ends and her eyeliner’s halfway melted.

Abby leans over the back of the couch and silently hands you a Capri Sun.

You take it.

He nods.

Baby, seated on the floor across from you, is staring at Jinu like he’s two seconds from incinerating him through sheer willpower.

Mystery hasn’t said a word. Just leans in the corner flipping a tarot card between his fingers. It glows intermittently like it knows how much drama is in the room.

The Tower. Of course.

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

“So,” Jinu says finally, “we used to date.”

You groan and rub your temples. “Used to is doing a lot of work.”

Romance, perched dramatically on the armrest, grins like this is the best reality TV he’s ever seen. “Was this, like… messy breakup messy, or blood-oath betrayal messy?”

“I—” you start.

“She—” Jinu tries.

“Wait,” Zoey says, raising her hand. “Did you accidentally destroy a major spiritual seal out of romantic guilt?”

The entire room goes still.

You look at her. Then around. Then back at your juice pouch.

“…Kind of?”

Mira mutters something that might be a swear. Rumi exhales like she’s aged a decade in the last hour.

Abby takes a long sip of his own Capri Sun. “Honestly, I’ve heard worse.”

“I haven’t,” Mira grits.

“You will,” Romance says helpfully. “If they ever let me do a tell-all.”

Baby doesn’t look amused. He leans forward slightly, gaze fixed on your joined hands.

“If you hurt him again,” he says, voice low, “I will melt your kneecaps.”

You nod. “That’s fair.”

Jinu bumps your shoulder with his. His fingers brush yours under the blanket.

You don’t pull away.

“We’ll figure it out,” you tell the room, quiet but firm.

There’s silence.

Then Romance claps his hands once. “Ugh, fine. But if this turns into another star-crossed betrayal arc, I’m writing a musical about it.”

Mystery moves forward, flips his final card, and drops it gently on the table between the pizza and the pain.

The Lovers.

It glows.

Of course it does.

You roll your eyes, but your mouth betrays you with a tiny smile.

Jinu doesn’t say anything. Just lets you lean into his shoulder. His sigil pulses once, steady and faint. Like he’s breathing for the first time in a long time.

You may have burned half your life to the ground, but—

You’d still choose him.

Even now.

Especially now.

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

M-List

[asherwesley]

“You haven’t even taken your boots off”

Simon “Ghost” Riley x You

Post-mission | Domestic fluff | Soft!Simon | Comfort

୨────────୨୧────────୧

You hear the door click open – heavy, slow, like the person on the other side is dragging time behind them.

A dull thunk. Gear bag dropped to the floor. Another. Boots. And finally, Simon Riley, slouched in your doorway, looking like he’s been peeled out of war and stitched back together just to come home.

His mask is still on. Eyes shadowed. Posture's like someone who has been shot at too many times and just wants to rest for a century.

“Love?” you say, shifting slightly on the couch.

He lifts a hand in acknowledgment.

The most tired salute you've ever seen.

“You shower yet?”

“Mm.” A sound that could mean yes, no, maybe, or I’ll dissolve into ash if you ask me anything else.

You catch him watching you intently as he stands still, his shoulders loosen – barely – like you’re the only safe thing in the room.

“Food’s in the fridge,” you tell him softly. “I’ll heat it up. Or you can do it, if you feel like–”

“Don’t feel like anything.”

His voice is rough. Brittle. But not unkind.

“Thought so,” you smile. “Okay. Sit first, eat later. But boots off–”

But he’s already crossing the room.

Already collapsing onto the couch.

Already–

“Oh my God, Simon!”

He lands face-first in your lap.

One arm limply draped across your thighs, the other curled beneath him like a kid hiding from the world. His mask nudges your stomach, the weight of him grounding – enormous, solid, alive.

You freeze.

“…Seriously?”

And there's a low groan. Maybe agreement. Maybe defiance.

“You’re dirty. You’re– Simon, you’ve got blood on your sleeve.”

“Not mine,” he mutters.

“That doesn’t help!”

He doesn’t respond.

He’s already out.

Breathing slow. Even. Like his body finally let go now that it found you.

You stare down at him – big, deadly Simon Riley, curled in your lap, completely spent.

With a sigh, you brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles.

He flinches in his sleep. Mumbles something. You lean in closer.

One word: your name.

That’s it.

Just your name. Like a prayer. Like home.

You settle back, resting your hand gently on his broad back. Okay, you think. Shower later. Food later. This… now.

Outside, the world can burn.

But in this quiet corner of the universe, Ghost sleeps with his head in your lap, and that’s all that matters.

୨────────୨୧────────୧

[littledykeblue]

omg part 2 to fwb ellie when r returns the favourrrr

──𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑;

(fwb! ellie x reader): you get the chance to pay ellie back read part one: here!

wc: 1.7k | cw: slightly subby!ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), mirror sex (in a sense), hair-pulling, friends with benefits, MINORS DNI.

note: i wasn't even planning on a part two but im so happy it was good enough for u guys to want one!! i hope you enjoy :3

It’s been a few days since you last saw Ellie. Just when things were starting to heat up again, she got a call from Joel and had to head out. The two of you parted with a kiss and a promise to finish this later. Life has a way of keeping you both busy, but not forever.

The opportunity finally comes when a mutual friend sends out an invite to a house party. You barely finish reading it before you’re dialing Ellie’s number.

She answers after three rings. “What’s going on?” she asks, voice distracted, background noise crackling faintly. Probably mid-match.

“You busy?”

“Nah, just carrying this shitty fucking team,” she mutters, pointedly. You can practically hear her eye-roll. “Always got time for you, though.”

Your mouth tugs into a smile. “Aww. I was just calling to see if you got Jesse’s party invite.”

There’s a pause—a quiet ‘fuck’ under her breath—and then, “Sorry. We just lost. Now you have my undivided attention.”

“Lucky me.” You try to keep your voice casual, maybe a little flirty, already thumbing through your closet for something decent. “Party. Jesse. Are you going?”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly. “If you’re going.”

“I am,” you say. “You should come over so we can uber...and you can pay for the uber.”

“I don’t know…” Her voice shifts, teasing now, that familiar edge creeping in. “What do I get if I do?”

“Put it on my tab,” you tell her smoothly, already smiling. “I’ll have it paid off by tonight.”

Ellie laughs. Short, sharp, almost a giggle. “I’ll swing by at, like, nine,” she says. “Or I could make it eight, if you wanna pre-game.”

“When have I ever said no to a pre-game?”

Ellie makes a disapproving little noise, full of mock judgment. “Your greed astounds me.”

“I can show you greedy.”

“Fingers crossed.”

You wrap up the call quickly after that, biting back the grin threatening to take over your face. It sticks with you while you finish getting ready, shimmying into a dress that hits mid-thigh. Your room still smells like your body spray, music thumping low from your speaker.

Ellie shows up a few minutes later, one hand in the pocket of her jacket and the other carrying a half-bottle of cheap tequila that you know all too well.

You let her in, and she whistles low when she sees you. “Damn.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “Ellie, stay focused. Take a shot.”

She obliges without argument, unscrewing the cap and pouring into mismatched glasses you already brought in from the kitchen. The first shot burns; the second goes down smoother. The warmth settles between you almost instantly. It's both from the alcohol and from the way she keeps looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

You reach for your phone. “Come here,” you say, gesturing toward the full-length mirror. “Need a picture.”

Ellie groans but comes anyway, standing just behind you. Her hands settle naturally at your waist, and her chin hooks over your shoulder as she squints at your phone screen.

You snap the photo, then glance at it. “Do you think we look too couple-y here?”

Ellie hums noncommittally, but she doesn’t move away. If anything, her hands shift lower, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress, right at the curve of your ass.

“Ellie.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says, but she’s already kissing your neck, slow and deliberate. Her grip tightens slightly, greedier now.

"You're so annoying," you say, but make no move to stop her.

Her hands slide down further, palms curving fully over your ass, and you feel her smile against your skin.

You turn in her arms and kiss her, your hands sliding up around her shoulders and pulling her in. She presses closer like she can’t help it, grabbing two full handfuls now.

“We're not going out, are we?” You ask against her mouth.

Ellie kisses you again, rougher this time. “Depends on how good you are.”

You’re barely done kissing before Ellie’s hands are on the hem of your dress, tugging it upward, pushing it over your hips. You help her, dress over your head and tossed somewhere onto the floor. Ellie shrugs off her jacket, lips still trailing kisses along your jaw.

Between greedy hands and breathless laughs, the rest of your clothes come off in pieces, neither of you really bothering to slow down. Still, every time you pause to kiss—deep, hungry, open-mouthed—it feels like the world shrinks down to this single moment. Her mouth, her hands, her skin against yours.

She pulls you toward the bed and sits at the edge, facing the mirror. Her legs spread automatically, casual, confident.

You drop to your knees between hers.

Ellie lets her eyes drag down your body, then back up again. “You’re lucky, y’know,” she says, her voice thick, low, entirely too pleased with herself. “Not many people get the great honor of eating me out.”

You roll your eyes so hard you might see stars. “You’re unbearable.”

“And you’re still here. On your knees for me.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. You just lean in, pressing your lips to the inside of her thigh. You're soft at first. A slow kiss. Then another, just a little higher. You trail them inward, biting and sucking dark bruises into the skin.

Ellie’s breathing harder, her hips jerking just barely as she tries her best to maintain her control in this situation.

You take your time, lips dragging over skin, building it slow. Your tongue teases her clit, just barely, just enough to make her shift in place. She lets out a low breath, eyes fixed on you in the mirror now.

“Don't play with me,” she warns, her voice already breaking at the edges. “You keep me waiting any longer, and I'm going to explode.”

Despite the part of you that kind of wants to see what exactly she'd do about it, you don’t leave her waiting long. You dip in, tongue parting her folds slowly, deliberately. And fuck, she’s already so wet for you.

You groan softly against her, and Ellie exhales hard, one hand flying to your hair, fingers curling in just enough to anchor herself.

“That’s it,” she murmurs, voice tightening. “Fuck, that’s it. Just like that.”

You keep at it: tongue moving in careful, hungry strokes, licking and sucking like you’ve got nowhere else to be tonight. Her thighs twitch, her hips lift just slightly, chasing your mouth.

You find your rhythm fast, your mouth working over her with growing intensity, each pass of your tongue earning a fresh curse or ragged breath from above. Ellie’s thighs tense on either side of you, muscles twitching with each slow grind of her hips.

In the mirror, she watches it all.

Her lips are parted, one hand gripping your hair tighter now, anchoring you like she’s afraid you might stop. The other hand slips up under her tank top, palm cupping her own breast. She moans softly when she squeezes, her breath stuttering.

“Jesus fuck,” she pants, hips stuttering against your mouth. “You’re so good at this. Fuck, don’t stop.”

You don’t. If anything, you double down. Your tongue flattening, pressure sharper now, hungrier. Your hands grip her thighs, fingers digging in as you drive her higher. You can feel how wet she is, how hot. How close.

“Touch yourself,” she says suddenly, voice cracking. You glance up, and her head tilts just slightly, eyes still locked on the mirror. “Please. Wanna see it. Wanna see how pretty you look when you're getting off to me.”

You don’t hesitate. Just to give her a little show, you spread your legs a bit, arch your back enough that Ellie can get a real good look.

One hand slips between your legs, fingers finding heat and slick right away. You moan low into her, the vibration making Ellie flinch and gasp above you.

“Oh my God,” she groans, her voice shattering around the edges. “That’s it. Just like that. Fuck, that’s so hot. You're so...hot.”

You keep going, your fingers circling your own clit now, quick and needy, your mouth working even harder against her. Something about the sound of her begging for it, of her watching herself come undone while knowing you’re falling apart too — it makes you reckless.

You lick deeper, suck harder, moaning into her cunt as your own pleasure builds beneath your hand.

Ellie tugs at your hair sharply, her thighs starting to clamp around your head, her chest rising and falling like she’s chasing something just out of reach.

“Yes, baby,” she gasps. “Don’t stop. M'gonna come.”

She’s so close now it’s in every part of her:

The way her breath hitches, the way her grip in your hair tightens to the point of sting, the way her hips roll and stutter against your face like her body can’t help it anymore.

You don’t let up. You stay locked in, mouth soaked, your own hand still working between your thighs as you push her higher, relentless and steady.

Your tongue slides just right. Deep, then sharp and quick, then back again; Ellie falls apart above you beautifully.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna,” she gasps, voice barely coherent, her thighs beginning to clamp around your head. Her body trembles beneath your hands, and she looks at herself in the mirror like she can’t believe it — flushed and wide-eyed, panting, one hand twisted in your hair, the other now gripping the sheets for grounding.

You moan into her, sucking her clit just once, hard and perfect, and that does it.

Ellie comes with a sharp cry, her body seizing. Her hips jerk forward once, twice, before she nearly folds in on herself, breath knocked out of her, hand fisting in your hair tight enough to hurt.

“Oh my God,” she chokes out, head tipped back now, eyes fluttering shut. “Holy shit, I—”

You keep going until your own orgasm tears through you. Ellie takes it all, twitching and breathless, legs shaking around your shoulders.

Eventually, her hand loosens in your hair. Her thighs slacken. She exhales, long and shaky, the kind of sound that only comes after being completely undone.

You glance up, mouth shining, flushed and still panting from your own touch. Ellie’s watching you in the mirror again, eyes half-lidded, dazed and ruined and still not done looking.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes, throat raw. “You’re insane.”

You shrug a little, smug despite the racing in your chest. “Told you I could show you greedy.”

Ellie lets out a broken laugh, dragging you up by the wrist and pulling you into her lap, still catching her breath.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, kissing your temple. “You got me there.”

[heliosunny]

Drop an Argenti Lucky Egg (or literally any new Lucky Egg) and my life is yooouuurs

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Argenti x Reader

No one really knew where the Lucky Egg Dispenser came from. One day, it just showed up. People thought it was a prank at first. But then someone pressed the button. Out came a warm golden egg. Three days later, it hatched into a creature that sang songs only she could understand. After that, more people tried it.

But then something changed.

Someone pressed the button and got an egg. It was soft white, with a rose-colored pattern spiraling around the shell. It didn’t feel warm like the others. And when three days passed… it didn’t hatch.

Instead of discarding it, the family who received it decided to keep it. The Rosette Egg was placed in a glass case surrounded by real rose petals. It was passed down through the family. Every new head of the house would take care of it, but no one ever saw it crack, let alone hatch.

Now it’s your turn.

Y/N Valedrin, the new head of House Valedrin - one of the six royal families still holding power, young and talented. In this world, people drive flying cars, stream music and interact with the singer through a screen, but society still runs on names and bloodlines. Royal houses manage territories, resources, and laws like companies.

Your induction ceremony was short. And then, they brought it in.

The egg sat on a red velvet cushion. The same as always.

“The Rosette Egg,” one of the elders said, carefully handing it to you. “It’s yours now.”

You nodded and took it with both hands. It was lighter than you expected.

“...It’s warm” you said quietly.

“Are you sure?” another elder asked.

“I’m sure.” you said, holding it closer.

It happened early in the morning. The Rosette Egg, which had sat quietly on the shelf for over a century, began to glow. The rose patterns on its shell shimmered like liquid gold. You didn’t call anyone. You just watched, as fine cracks bloomed across its surface.

Then, with a soft pop, the shell split. And there, kneeling amid the broken shell and petals, was a man.

Tall, graceful, long red hair clung to his shoulders, his armor catching the early sunlight. He looked like he had stepped out of a painting.

His green eyes locked onto yours.

"You must be Y/N. I’ve waited a long time."

“You… know my name?”

He nodded. “Yes. That’s all I know.”

Before the hour passed, the elders had gathered in the halls outside your room. Other family members, distant cousins and advisors, peeked in, pretending to offer help.

“Argenti,” you repeated the name he told you. “That’s your name?”

He nodded, standing silently behind you as people talked.

“They're too young to handle him.”

“Is this even safe?”

“No one else could hatch it, and suddenly—just like that?”

“Maybe the egg was defective and took a form on its own.”

You held back a sigh. When you finally had a quiet moment, you stood up and faced them.

“I’ll be handling this on my own.” you said. “He’s part of my duty now. I don’t need interference.”

They didn’t like it. But they couldn’t say much, not with Argenti standing tall beside you. You caught how his presence made even the most arrogant advisors take a step back.

Later, you slipped back to your room and closed the door behind you.

Argenti stood by the window, looking out.

You sat on the edge of your bed and asked, “Do you really not remember anything else?”

He turned to you, “Only my name. Yours. And a strange feeling that I’ve been waiting.”

“Waiting for me?”

“Yes. I don’t know why, but I do know it’s right.”

You leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Do you know how many people kept your egg before me? All of them ended up taking a second egg when nothing happened with yours.”

He didn’t look surprised.

“So… why me?” you asked. “Why now?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad it was you.”

You stared at him quietly for a moment. Then you stood up and crossed your arms.

“Just so you know,” you said, “not everyone in this house is trustworthy. Some of them are ambitious, greedy, and they will use anything to climb higher.”

Argenti smiled faintly. “I understand.”

“You say that,” you replied, “but this isn’t just some storybook castle. They’ve ruined lives for less than what you are.”

He stepped closer, one hand over his chest.

“Then let them try,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t quite know what to say to that. So you sat down again.

“…Thanks.”

House Valedrin wasn’t known for warmth or unity, but it was respected. Among the six royal houses, it was the one trusted most when it came to health, recovery, and poisons.

Whether it was curing a fever, identifying a toxin from an assassination attempt, or preparing subtle herbal brews to “nudge” political decisions, Valedrin was involved. You were used to this. Argenti, however, was not.

“This way.” you said, walking slowly down the stone path.

The garden, located behind the main hall, was full of plants. Some were safe, most weren’t. Faintly glowing roots peeked through the soil. Strange flowers shifted their colors with the time of day.

“Don’t touch that one” you pointed as Argenti leaned toward a bell-shaped vine.

“It looks lovely.” he said, crouching slightly to observe the shimmer. “Delicate and elegant. Like it would sing in the wind.”

“It 'sings' when it senses warm blood” you replied, pulling him back by the wrist.

“...Ah.” He stood straight and brushed the dust from his gauntlet. “You live in a lovely garden.”

You glanced up at him. “You hatched in a glass box surrounded by petals. You’ll live.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “True.”

Despite how close everything seemed - greenhouses, halls, libraries, and labs - the Valedrin estate felt distant. Even members of the same family barely spoke unless required. Loyalty was directed to the house, not each other. It had always been that way.

But today wasn’t just another day of routines.

You led Argenti toward the outer courtyard just in time to welcome a guest. Waiting there was a man dressed in a dark uniform. A golden crest of wings and steel crossed his shoulder - House Rastoth, the strongest military house in the six.

He turned when he saw you. Tall, with cool gray eyes and neatly combed black hair.

“Y/N Valedrin,” he greeted with a nod, offering his hand. “A pleasure. I’m Kael Rastoth.”

You shook his hand. “Welcome to Valedrin.”

Kael smiled. “I was sent here to discuss supply routes and plant-based antidotes for our field units. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’ll have the report ready after tea.”

As you talked, Argenti stood behind you. He stayed silent, but you sensed the subtle shift in his expression. His eyes flicked between you and Kael. And when Kael smiled, Argenti stepped one inch closer to you.

“Is this your knight?” Kael asked, glancing at Argenti. “Quite the presence.”

“He’s… recently hatched.” you answered, unsure how else to put it.

Kael raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. “Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

Kael stayed for tea and walked with you through part of the estate. You kept the conversation formal but you had to admit, Kael was striking, confident, smart, too. You noticed Argenti frowning at a flower for too long while Kael spoke.

It wasn’t until Kael stood to leave that Argenti finally spoke again.

“He’s dashing.” Argenti said, watching the man disappear down the path.

You turned to him. “You say that about everyone.”

“I say it when it’s true.” he replied with a thoughtful tone. “His posture, the way he spoke, even the way his coat buttons aligned—perfect. It’s rare to see such symmetry.”

“I didn’t like him looking at you” he added. “But maybe that’s normal?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you jealous?”

“...I don’t know.”

You stifled a laugh. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

He looked genuinely confused, but then said, “Well, he is married, isn’t he?”

You nodded. “Two kids. He talks about them all the time.”

Argenti’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “…Good.”

“Good?” you repeated, smiling.

“I don’t like the idea of sharing you.”

You looked at him for a second, unsure if he understood what he was saying. He didn’t look embarrassed.

You turned and started walking again.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” you muttered.

“But I meant it.”

---

You woke up early that morning, well before the sun had fully risen.

There was a trip scheduled to the outer poison farm - a restricted garden located far from the estate, where only the strongest or most resistant plants were allowed to grow. It wasn’t open to the public or even to most members of the house. You had special clearance, of course, but it still took hours to reach by car.

When you stepped out of your room, half-dressed and still fixing your sleeves, you expected to find Argenti still asleep or waiting nearby.

But he wasn’t just awake, he was outside.

You noticed something strange. A faint shimmer in the air, like heatwaves off the road. It was a barrier.

“...You made a shield.”

He turned at your voice and lowered his arm. The shimmer faded.

“I sensed something last night.” he explained calmly. “I know this estate is safe, but it felt… off. I didn’t want to take chances.”

“You didn’t sleep at all?”

“I was resting,” he said. “Lightly.”

You sighed. “Next time, wake me.”

The car ride to the restricted farm took nearly two hours.

The landscape changed gradually. The polished marble of the inner city gave way to trees, scattered hills, and wide fields. No one built houses out here, not near the toxin fields. It wasn’t safe.

Argenti watched everything from the window, eyes constantly moving.

“It’s beautiful.” he said after a while.

You glanced over. “You think so?”

“It’s quiet. I like the energy.”

The garden wasn’t like a normal farm. There were no clear paths. Vines crept up from the soil in odd angles. The air was thick with scent, not all of it pleasant. You wore gloves, goggles, and thick clothing for protection.

Argenti didn’t seem bothered, though he stayed close.

“This area’s older,” you explained, walking carefully along the gravel trail. “We call it the Lesser Bloom Ring. Don’t step off the path.”

“Because of the flowers?”

“And the moss. Some of it reacts to movement.”

He took one wrong step near a sloping patch of grass and almost lost his balance.

“Watch it—!”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him back quickly. His armor clinked lightly against your suit as he steadied himself.

The moment held for just a second too long. You were very close. Your hands still on his arms. His breath faintly brushing your face.

“Your balance,” he said softly, “is perfect.”

“...That’s what you noticed?”

He smiled. “And your grip strength.”

You shoved him lightly. “Keep walking.”

At the next location, you handed him a sealed protective suit.

“This part requires full gear. These flowers release spores that trigger hallucinations and paralysis. We take zero risks.”

Argenti looked at the suit and raised a brow. “Stylish.”

“It’s not meant to impress anyone. Just put it on.”

He did, though with some struggle, he muttered complaints about the sleeves being too tight. You led him to the special section, where a single flower stood under glass. It was a strange thing - wide, pale, with black veins and golden dust scattered on its petals.

“My father created this one,” you said. “A hybrid between a necroot vine and a blooming torchleaf. It can slow the heartbeat enough to simulate death.”

He turned to you. “Your father was—?”

“He passed last year. I only visit this area when needed.”

You unlocked the glass.

Before you could explain the next step, Argenti took off one of his gloves and reached forward.

“Wait—Argenti!”

He touched the petal.

And nothing happened.

“…Huh? Wait, what part of zero risks did you not understand?”

“I’m sorry.” he said. “I just… it felt familiar. Like it wouldn’t harm me.”

“Don’t do that again.”

He looked genuinely apologetic. “I won’t. I promise.”

You made it back to the estate just after sunset.

The harvested samples were locked up safely.

In the quiet of the kitchen, you made a simple meal. Argenti stood by and watched, though you caught him trying to sneak bites more than once.

“You cook, too?” he asked as you stirred the soup.

You shrugged. “When I need to.”

Dinner was quiet. Afterward, you stretched your arms and yawned.

“I’m going to bed,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes. “Don’t set up a shield in the hallway again.”

“I won’t.”

You didn’t expect him to follow, but he walked behind you anyway. When you reached your room, you sat on the bed. Then you felt it, his hands gently pulled your blanket up once you were under it.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ve had a long day,” he said. “You should rest properly.”

You stared at him. “You really don’t need to tuck me in.”

“Too late.”

You sighed and turned onto your side. “...Goodnight, Argenti.”

That night, you fell asleep quickly.

The long drive, the exposure to heavy flora, the mental weight of walking past your father's legacy, it all drained you.

But you didn’t see the way Argenti returned just minutes later.

The door creaked open softly, just enough for him to step inside. He didn’t make a sound. He stood by your bed for a long moment, simply watching your chest rise and fall with each breath.

His hand hovered above you for a second. Then slowly, he reached down and laced his fingers between yours. You didn’t stir. His other hand brushed a few strands of hair away from your forehead. He leaned in and pressed the softest kiss there, barely more than a breath. Then he pulled back, let go of your hand, and disappeared into the quiet.

Morning sunlight peeked through your curtains.

You blinked awake. The bed was warm, your body sore from yesterday’s work, but your mind was already spinning with ideas. Argenti’s resistance to the hybrid flower couldn’t be ignored.

You got up quickly, changed, and headed out.

Argenti was already waiting outside your door.

“Morning,” you said, stretching your arms. “We’re going to the lab. I want to test something.”

“Testing sounds ominous.”

“You touched a death flower with your bare hands yesterday and nothing happened. We’re going to find out if you’re poison-resistant.”

“I trust you.”

You were halfway down the hall when the sound of heels clicking against marble stopped you.

“Y/nnn~”

You stopped walking. Argenti did too, shoulders subtly stiffening.

It was your cousin—Virelle. Though you were both from House Valedrin, she acted like she owned the place, and never seemed to stop testing boundaries.

“There you are,” she said, stepping into your path. “I was wondering when you’d come out of hiding. Still collecting strange pets, I see.”

“What do you want, Virelle? I’m busy.”

“I just happened to hear about the trip yesterday,” she said, circling you both slowly. “And the flower. Sooo... how did he manage it, hmm?”

“Maybe the flower liked him better than you.”

Her smile thinned. “Careful, cousin. Flowers can wilt... or be pruned.”

It took you an entire hour to get rid of her.

She talked, insulted, questioned, and pretended to be interested in a dozen irrelevant topics. Finally, with a fake excuse about an urgent document, you escaped back into the hallway with Argenti close behind.

She’s a bad flower. Bad flowers should be cut.

The lab was cold and quiet. You suited up, handed Argenti a modified set, and began testing small doses of various toxins, mild ones first. Then gradually more dangerous strains.

“Tell me immediately if anything stings or burns,” you said, swabbing a pale powder onto the back of his arm. “I’ll get the antidote right away.”

“I will.” he said.

But he never did.

You tested five poisons, two flower-based venoms, and even one of the mist spores under controlled levels. His vitals remained unchanged.

“How do you feel?” you asked, after the final check.

“Maybe I was made for this place.”

“Maybe,” you said, still watching him closely. “But don’t test your luck again. I don’t want to see you dead.”

“You’d care?”

“I’d have to fill out the paperwork. It’s exhausting.”

He laughed.

You left the lab in the late afternoon.

As you stepped into the hall, a servant approached in a hurry.

“Master Y/N,” they said, “You… you need to come to the west wing. Your cousin—Virelle—she… something’s happened.”

You rushed there immediately.

When you arrived, the door to her room was already open. Several elders were inside. The scent hit you before anything else: roses.

The floor was scattered with petals. Her bed soaked in red and pink. The walls, splashed with a blooming flood of roses, crawling up like vines. And there, at the center, was her body. Her mouth slightly open, with a final rose petal resting on her tongue.

“She vomited them?” someone whispered. “No poison was found..”

Another elder held a clipboard. “Cameras show nothing. She was alone.”

And you?

You were in the lab. With Argenti. Every second accounted for.

The case was filed under unexplained natural occurrence.

You said nothing as you walked away.

Behind you, Argenti walked quietly, hands folded behind his back.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night.

You tossed and turned for a while, your mind still stuck on the lab tests, the petals, and the fact that the cousin you had just spoken to that morning was now gone. Your room was quiet, but your body wouldn’t settle.

A soft knock came to your door.

You didn’t answer right away, but it opened gently.

Argenti stepped inside with a small tray in hand. He set it on the bedside table, a warm cup of milk, lightly sweetened.

You sat up slowly. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to” he said, sitting at the edge of your bed.

You took the cup and sipped.

“You’re getting too good at this,” you mumbled. “What’s next? Breakfast in bed?”

“If you ask”

You didn’t remember falling asleep after that. One minute you were finishing the last sip. The next, you were out.

Argenti remained by your side a little longer.

Then, with a hand gentle enough not to disturb, he brushed his thumb across your cheek, leaned in, and placed a soft kiss on your lips. It lingered for a moment longer than last time.

He looked at your hand, resting above the blanket.

He took your ring finger carefully between his thumb and forefinger, brought it up, and gently pressed his lips to it.

Then, he opened his mouth slightly, just enough for the tips of his teeth to graze your skin.

Halfway through, he paused.

His eyes softened. Slowly, he lowered your hand and laid it back down.

“I’ll wait.” he whispered.

The next morning, you woke well-rested, if a bit confused about how you’d fallen asleep so fast. Argenti was already up, as usual, standing near the window.

“Today’s meeting is with House Celennor.” you reminded him while dressing. “Their youngest is in charge of jewelry and cosmetics. It’s mostly for partnership continuity.”

Argenti’s eyes lit up slightly. “Beauty industry?”

“Don’t get excited,” you said, hiding a smile. “They’re flashy and dramatic.”

“I love them already.”

House Celennor was known for its glamour - jewels, perfume, luxury fabrics, and everything that shimmered under light. Their estate wasn’t just bright, it sparkled.

You weren’t used to all this sparkle. You preferred function over fashion. But having Argenti around made things feel less awkward. He walked at your side, taking everything in with open admiration.

“It’s like walking through a painting,” he murmured. “Everything glows.”

“Don’t let them blind you.”

You were welcomed by Sevain Celennor, the youngest son of the house. He wore white and gold robes, hair long and pale like ivory, with multiple earrings.

“Y/N Valedrin,” Sevain greeted you. “You honor us with your visit. I heard about the incident. Our condolences.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “Let’s keep this meeting efficient.”

“Of course.” he smiled.

He walked you through the newest accessory collection—necklaces, rings, hair ornaments lined with crystalized pollen that shimmered in motion.

One hair ornament caught your eye. Fine silver lines, shaped like a thorned vine, with a small gemstone in the center.

Without thinking, you turned to Argenti. “Sit.”

“Me?”

“Might as well try this out.”

He sat obediently.

You gently pulled his long red hair to the front and worked the ornament in place, clipping part of it behind his ear. He didn’t speak the whole time.

Sevain tilted his head, amused. “It suits him.”

“He knows.” you muttered.

“I do,” Argenti admitted. “I like when you touch my hair.”

You coughed lightly and turned away. “We’ll take the full set. Send the bill to Valedrin.”

On the way out, Argenti suddenly slowed.

You looked back. “What is it?”

“That woman,” he said, glancing toward the far end of the garden. A lady in a pale dress stood near the fountain, watching you both.

“Celennor staff?”

“She's acting strange.”

You both moved on, and by the time you glanced back, she was gone.

By evening, you returned to the estate.

You were just about to go inside when loud voices came from the gate.

A man you didn’t recognize was arguing with two of your guards. He looked dirty, unstable, shouting nonsense about betrayal and blood. One of the guards hesitated, unsure how to deal with it.

Argenti stepped forward. In seconds, he disarmed the man. He moved, pinned the man with ease, and stood tall as he spoke quietly to the guards.

“If you can’t control the gate, someone else will.”

The guards nodded quickly, dragging the stranger away.

“That was a little dramatic.”

“You help me put on a hair ornament today,” he said, brushing his fingers over it. “I feel empowered.”

You laughed softly, the sound more relaxed than it had been in days.

You both ate dinner together again in the smaller hall—something you never used to do with anyone. Afterward, you stretched, waved him off, and made your way to bed.

That night, it happened again.

You were already asleep when Argenti leaned over your bed, fingers brushing your hair away. He kissed your lips more tenderly this time.

But just as he was about to linger, his ears twitched.

A sound.

His eyes sharpened.

He stood up and walked to the door, pulling it open without a sound. In the hallway, just beyond the edge of the light, stood a young servant.

She didn’t flinch when he appeared. She met his gaze directly.

“If you don’t tell her… I will.”

Argenti said nothing.

He simply shut the door behind him.

What happened next was quick. He lifted her in his arms like a sculpture and carried her to the old hearth in the unused west wing.

The flames roared briefly.

With a slow breath, he extended his hand and summoned his rose vines again, their thorns crawling across the ceiling, cutting into every security camera. The systems shut down.

The hallway was quiet when he returned to your room.

You were still asleep.

He tucked you in carefully and sat at the edge of the bed.

By morning, the estate buzzed with mild panic.

Security had been compromised, cameras across the east and west wings were suddenly fried. The data, all gone. The elders ordered a full inspection and brought in a private tech team to upgrade the system.

Argenti stood near the balcony, pretending to be mildly curious.

And that’s when he saw her again.

The woman from House Celennor’s estate. This time, she wore a blue technician jacket and carried a toolbox like the others.

She didn’t look his way.

But he remembered her.

The funeral was quiet. You didn’t cry for Virelle, but you paid your respects with formality.

Argenti stayed home, as instructed.

The repairs weren’t finished. A few technicians stayed behind, planning to complete the last wing of work by next morning.

You left early the next day for a short business trip regarding neutral supply trade.

Argenti stayed again.

The tech team returned.

And so did she.

He followed from a distance. She worked like the others, but she was too aware of her surroundings. At one point, she slipped away from the group, toolbox still in hand, and made her way to the lower level.

Argenti followed. Down a quiet hall. Through an old access door. Into the power routing chamber.

She turned around the moment he entered.

“You’re not bad,” she said, dropping the toolbox. “But not clever enough.”

“You work for the same group as that servant, I handled her.” Argenti said. “Why target House Valedrin?”

“We want to see the royal's fall.”

“You killed her too,” she added with a smirk. “Did she beg?”

Argenti summoned his spear. It shimmered in the low light as his fingers closed around it.

“Let me show you what real beauty looks like.”

She clicked her tongue.

Bugs burst from the wall, giant beetles, their wings sharp like blades, their legs spiked and twisted. They charged at him. Argenti moved like he was dancing. One step forward, a clean strike—slash. The first beetle split clean down the middle.

But they kept coming.

He narrowed his eyes. His aura grew darker—red, heavy like blood-soaked petals. His spear hummed as he swung harder. The room filled with wind and movement and the sound of wings being ripped apart.

The woman screamed and sent more.

And then, her scream was cut off.

She fell with a final breath, roses blooming from the open wound across her chest. He stepped over her body, took a moment to ensure no trace was left behind, and burned it all in silence.

Nothing remained.

You returned late that evening.

You opened the door to your room and blinked, Argenti was already there, drawing the curtains closed.

“Welcome home”

You set your things down, not questioning anything. “Long day.”

“You should rest.”

You didn’t ask how he always knew what you needed.

You just slipped under the blanket, sighing softly.

The damage from the power chamber hadn’t gone unnoticed.

By morning, the estate called in another technician group to repair the wrecked area—the one you hadn’t seen.

You flipped through the report in silence at breakfast, frowning.

“Collapsed structure, melted metalwork, and a large patch of scorched stone? What does that mean?”

You looked up at Argenti.

He sat calmly across from you, sipping his tea.

“Oh, that. Maybe it’s old. Things decay with time.”

You squinted at him. “You were home yesterday. You really didn’t see or hear anything?”

“Only silence”

You leaned forward.

Then, without warning, you pressed your hand lightly against his stomach. His breath caught.

“...W-What are you doing?”

“Checking something.”

“Something?”

“You were born from an egg,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Can you lay one?”

“...What kind of question is that?”

“A logical one.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. The bunny my aunt hatched from her egg lays one golden egg every year on her birthday. Maybe it’s some kind of biological exchange system.”

“So you think I—”

“Could lay one?”

He opened his mouth, paused, then slowly closed it again. “No.”

You laughed under your breath. “You look like you’re not even sure anymore.”

Argenti glanced away. He could feel it again, something under his skin. A deep, thorned stir. The same sensation he’d felt the day he touched that dead servant.

He had left something behind. His spores - one of his abilities.

And now, through those infected by that woman, through brief touches, lingering words, shared breaths—his awareness was growing.

A network of rot, blooming under the surface.

All of it tied back to him.

If this house fell, you’d be caught in the collapse. That couldn’t happen.

His duty wasn't to Valedrin. His purpose was you. If protecting you meant killing a dozen more spies, so be it.

“Argenti?”

He blinked. You were watching him again, brows raised slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been zoning out” you said. “Like you’re thinking about something serious.”

“I was just... wondering,” he replied, “about bonding.”

You tilted your head. “What kind?”

“Servants that come from eggs. Some of them require... small offerings from their masters, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Like my aunt’s bunny. It won’t do anything unless she gives it carrots or tells it bedtime stories.”

He nodded slowly. “And me?”

You leaned back, folding your arms. “Are you trying to say you want a reward now?”

He shrugged.

“Spit it out.”

He hesitated.

Then your hand reached up and brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. His thoughts immediately snapped back into the moment, and he blinked as if waking up.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “What were you saying?”

You stared at him. “...You look tired”

“I don’t need rest.”

“You do if you’re going to space out mid-sentence,” you said. “Alright. Day off. Don’t follow me around.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you waved a hand and grabbed your coat.

“I’m going to check a few things in the lower wards. Alone.”

“Will you be long?”

“I’ll be gone tonight, maybe tomorrow.”

You left without waiting for his reply.

Afternoon came.

Then evening.

The sun dipped low across the sky, and Argenti was still waiting in the main hall when one of the kitchen staff approached.

“Ah, Sir Argenti,” the servant bowed. “Master left this message earlier.”

He took the note with a quiet nod.

As the door closed behind the servant, the last light of day bled into the crimson dusk.

Two days.

Alone.

The perfect opportunity.

Argenti stood slowly, his steps unnaturally silent as he moved down the corridor. The flowers blooming beneath the estate walls whispered to him.

He let his spear materialize in his palm, glowing faintly with red.

This place had survived so long with poison and caution.

Now it had him.

You never paid much attention to the house’s garden staff.

They came and went. Maintained the toxic orchids, trimmed the vines, kept the blood-colored lotuses blooming in season. One in particular, a young man with gentle manners, had been around longer than most, still, a forgettable face.

But not to Argenti.

Argenti saw everything. Especially him.

The way the man watched you from the distance as you walked the garden paths. How his hands lingered on pruning the roses you liked. The extra care taken to grow the pink hellebores you complimented once.

It disgusted him.

Not because the man was a spy. But because, as a spy, he dared to admire something that wasn’t his to admire. That wasn’t even his to look at.

Argenti had already cleared out half a dozen infiltrators while you were gone. He replaced them with new ones under the guise of elder orders.

This one would be the last.

You returned by late evening.

The air was lighter as you walked in, carrying a small paper box. Your eyes scanned around until you saw Argenti waiting in the front hall.

“There you are,” you said, holding up the box. “I brought cake.”

His eyes lit up faintly, and the faint exhaustion in his expression melted for a moment. “For me?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “Maybe for both of us. You looked tired before, so I thought—why not try the rabbit-carrot thing with sugar?”

He took the box gently from your hands.

“I’m honored.”

You both shared it in the dining hall.

Argenti didn’t stop smiling the entire time.

Later that night, you were tucked into bed.

The tea you drank was extra fragrant tonight. It worked too well. You didn’t even stir as the light flickered low and the warmth blanketed your limbs.

You didn’t hear the soft dragging sound. Or the faint rustle of thorns across the marble.

Argenti stood at the doorway, one hand wrapped in a twisting red vine.

At the end of the vine was the gardener.

His mouth was taped shut. His limbs tangled in thorned ropes, tight enough to bite through cloth. Blood already seeped around the cuts. He struggled, but it was pathetic.

Argenti walked him slowly into your room.

Your chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

He dragged the man close, until he could see you clearly. The softness of your face. The faint curl of your fingers around the blanket.

“This is the person you thought you could have.” Argenti whispered to him.

He knelt by your bedside.

Gently, he pulled the blanket aside just enough to reveal your neck.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss there. Then another. And another, slightly deeper. A visible mark bloomed beneath your jaw.

Then he turned his head back toward the man.

“Do you see this?”

The man’s eyes widened, muffled grunts echoing through the gag.

Argenti’s hand reached for yours. He lifted it slowly, reverently, and this time he did not hesitate. His lips closed around your ring finger and he bit, gently but firmly. Just enough for a bloom of red to bead up.

You shifted a little in your sleep, but didn’t wake.

He held your hand to his cheek afterward, almost like a prayer.

“You don’t belong to anyone else.”

Then he stood up.

The vines tightened.

The man thrashed once.

Then fell silent.

By the time dawn touched the windows, he was already gone, buried beneath the garden he once cared for. Returned to the soil as fertilizer for the roses you loved.

You woke late the next morning, your limbs slightly sore and your body oddly warm. You stretched, rolled out of bed, and walked to your vanity, only then noticing the red mark on your neck and the faint sting at your ring finger.

You narrowed your eyes at the small bite.

“What...?”

You dressed quickly and opened your door just as Argenti was about to knock.

“Oh,” you blinked. “Good morning.”

He looked you over, eyes pausing at your hand.

“...You’re injured?”

You raised your finger. “This? I don’t even remember how.”

His gaze darkened briefly. “Let me see.”

He took your hand gently, turned it palm up, and without waiting for permission, leaned forward and licked the wound.

The skin tingled. Then healed completely.

Your eyes widened. “You can do that?”

“I remembered just now,” he said. “My master’s blood and my touch are bonded. I can close minor wounds.”

“Huh.” You stared at your hand, then raised a brow. “So what else do you remember?”

He paused. “...To restore energy, you need to kiss me.”

You stared at him.

“Are you messing with me?”

“Would I lie?” he tilted his head innocently.

You hesitated, then leaned in.

He didn’t wait. His hand cupped the back of your head and drew you close. The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it deepened faster than you expected.

When you finally pulled away, a flush touched your cheeks.

“You… Hold up.. I do feel stronger”

Then you squinted. “But your hair came undone again.”

His smile faltered. “It did?”

“Yes. Sit down.”

He obeyed without question.

You carefully combed your fingers through the long strands, fixing the twisted braid along his shoulder, smoothing out the mess behind his ears. He stayed still the whole time.

No one else is allowed to touch my hair.

Your fingers slowed, brushing down the last strand, and the air between you held something quiet, comfortable.

Because no one else could ever do it right. Only you.

Somewhere outside the window, the garden bloomed a little redder.

[himasgod]

Could I request platonic Silver with half-fae reader who also went through the whole eternal slumber process and awakened by true love but reader just doesn't sleep. Nobody has seen them sleep, not once. Sibling dynamic kinda

(this may be a lil specific cuz it's for oc purposes lol)

SILVER AND READER

Where you wake up with him from the eternal slumber found by Lilia, and you become siblings

What would your brotherhood relationship be like if, in addition, you had the peculiarity that, unlike him, you are incapable of sleeping?

FOR OC PURPOSES 😭, to keep feeding this OC I decided to make it a little darker at the end, you can ignore it or keep it in mind! Also I would love to do a second part dealing with this ending, if you ask me, or leave it to your imagination. I'm not very convinced about some things, and I could redo it, but I hope you like it <3

Silver didn’t remember waking up. Not really. He remembered you.

You were there the moment his eyes opened, when the eternal slumber lifted its fog from his mind. Lilia stared at you in astonishment. Silver was just a baby, unlike you, who were considered a toddler when you fell under the spell. He thought it was a dream at first, your hand in his, your eyes tired, the smell of the forest in your clothes.

A lullaby left your lips off-key, fond.

And no one had ever seen you sleep.

Not Lilia, who tucked you in as a child along Silver. Not Sebek or Malleus with whom you had shared most of your childhood since you woke up. Not even Silver.

At first, Silver thought it was a coincidence. You were up before him, smiling with your usual sleepy gaze.

Later, already as a child, he noticed you still sat by the window at midnight, legs curled you as you stared at the stars.

He’d fall asleep and wake to find you still there, unmoved.And so it went on for years.

"You don’t sleep?" he asked one day, wary of startling the truth. You hesitated, biting your lip.

“I… don’t. Can’t. Not anymore.”

Silver tilted his head, that familiar calm in his eyes.

"I used to, back then. But when I woke up, I guess something stayed broken. True love fixed me, it's supposed. Maybe it did. But dreams won’t come back to me."

“So your nights are all waking ones.”

"And your days are all dreams."

He let out a breath through his nose. “Then we’re opposites.”

You were awake when he couldn’t be. You watched over him.

Since you could never sleep, you’d sit with Lilia all night, sipping flower tea and listening to the old bat ramble about days of yore. Other times, since your father needed to rest too, you’d rest your cheek against the cool windowpane and hum a wordless tun looking at the starts all night.

You were already teens, in Briar Valley. He collapsed again during sword training.

It wasn’t dramatic, just a soft sway, then Silver crumpled into the grass like a marionette with its strings snipped. Just a boy sinking into the earth, kissed again by sleep.

The young Sebek started forward, startled.

You were already kneeling by his side.

"Don’t touch him," you murmured gently. "He’ll wake when he’s ready."

You brushed a leaf from his hair, with calm. Your hand found his, and he squeezed back even while unconscious. A muscle memory.

Reassurance.

You stayed there, kneeling beside him, even as the sun shifted and the sky paled.

“I’ll keep watch. Go to rest, Sebek. You've done well today”.

It had become a ritual, almost. He would fall asleep without warning. You would stay awake at his side without fail. You’d never leave him vulnerable. Not when he could do nothing to protect himself.

He’d thank you afterward, of course. Softly.

“That’s what siblings do, right?”

You didn’t sleep, but you weren’t restless, exactly. Just aware. Always aware.

When Silver wandered in at dawn, still yawning from a nap he hadn’t meant to take, he found you in the exact same position as before.

“Did you stay there all night? Father had no experiences and those secrets that he only shares with you about his past, to tell you tonight?”

You nodded. You noticed the slight sleepy sarcasm in his voice, it wasn't aggressive. Lilia was busy that night, so you just stayed in the same position.

“You don’t get bored?”

“No. The world is quietest at this hour. I like the quiet.”

Silver joined you on the windowsill, back to the frame, head tilting to rest against yours. He did this often, leaned on you like a pillow. You let him.

“I dreamed of the sea again.”

“What was it like?”

“Big. Still. And I was standing in it, but not wet. You were on the shore. You had wings.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “I haven’t had wings since I was a baby.”

“I know. But dreams don’t care about that.”

“I wish I could see them. Your dreams.”

“I’ll keep dreaming them,” he said. “If that’s what you need. I'll dream for the both of us”

“Then I’ll keep the watch, while you do, so you can refresh me with that world of fairytail dreams fragments later.”

One night, already in Diasomnia, Silver had a vision. Not a dream. A vision. You found him wandering the halls, dazed, half-lost.

“Silver?”

He didn’t respond. His lips twitched, trembling.

You caught him by the shoulders and held him steady.

“Hey—hey. You’re not dreaming anymore.”

“I saw you. But you weren’t awake. You were asleep.”

The breath in your chest caught.

“I kept trying to wake you. But you wouldn’t open your eyes.”

“That would be a nightmare, wouldn’t it?”

He didn’t answer right away. It wasn't a dream, it looked more like a premonition.

A memory of the future.

“No. It wasn't a dream. Just something I’ve never known. And I think I hated it.”

You'd been feeling extremely tired the last few days. Not sleepy, but tired.

For the first time, your hands shook with fear when you realized you'd closed your eyes for 20 seconds straight, feeling more at peace.

As if you were drowsy.

You held his face between your palms and met his gaze until he blinked fully back into the present.

“I’m not going anywhere. Sleep never comes for me. Not anymore.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Then keep dreaming me awake, and I’ll keep watching while you sleep, that's what we promised, isn't it?.”

Not rest. Not sleep.

Just understanding. And that was enough.

For now.

Until the day all the sleep you've been missing all these years claims you, embracing you in unconsciousness forever again.

Because you'll be there to protect Silver, but no one will be able to protect you when Morpheus takes pity on your curse and decides to put you to eternal sleep again,this time, forever.

When Silver's vision is fulfilled.

But that wouldn't happen until a few months later.

So it was enough, for now.

[444eggnog]

A Sin With My Name On It

✍︎: this is my way of apologising for ruining lando’s foolproof plan in Car Fun, lol. i’m still pretty new to writing smut, so please feel free to share any thoughts or suggestions. seriously, let me know if there’s anything you think I should change. i’m really fighting the urge to just post all my drafts at once; i feel like once i do, i’ll finally be able to breathe. AND! thank you so much for the amazing support on my previous lando au, it genuinely blows my mind that it got so much attention. as usual, i hope you enjoy dj lando ♡

masterlist ! ☻

content: smut, shitty boyfriend, cheating (somewhat reasonable… jk) *i am in no way condoning cheating, nor do i think lando’s the type to do such a thing (i love him with my whole heart). this is purely fictional, only for the plot!*

pairing: dj!lando x reader in a toxic relationship

wc: 5.1k

She tasted like heaven. And he had no plans of repenting.

The bass rattled the floor, even behind the booth. Lando adjusted his headphones with one hand and glanced across the club, scanning the crowd the way he always did in his downtime between transitions.

He caught sight of the other DJ, if you could even call him that, the guy barely blended tracks, he just hit “play” on his setlist and smirked. Tonight, he was doing what he did best: leaning too close to a girl at the bar, whispering something that made her giggle as he offered her a drink.

Lando’s brow lifted. Doesn’t that guy have a girlfriend?

He couldn’t let it go. Even as the lights swept across the room and the next song came in, he kept glancing over. It wasn’t subtle. The hand on her lower back. The smile.

Finally he turned to the bartender, a guy he knew well enough to ask mid-song. “Oi, he’s taken, yeah?” The bartender snorted. “Been with his girl for like a year. Don’t know how she puts up with it. Dude’s a walking red flag.”

Lando shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh. Obvious cheater. And she can’t even see it.

But that was before he saw her. Really saw her.

She walked in a little later than usual, he remembered the bartender mentioning she often showed up late, after work maybe. And when she did, it was like the club lights dimmed just for her.

Low-cut, V-neck halter top, backless, all slinky black fabric that left nothing to the imagination if you let yourself imagine. Which he did. Unapologetically. Low-waisted black jeans that hugged her hips like they were in a fight not to let go. Winged eyeliner that made her eyes sharp, dangerous even in the dark. Brown lip gloss that glimmered like something you wanted to lick off.

Jesus.

He adjusted his mixer, pretending to be busy, but he watched her head for her boyfriend. That smile she gave him. Like she was happy to see him. Like she didn’t even notice the other girl had been in his lap five minutes ago.

How the fuck does a guy cheat on someone who looks like that?

He bit back a scoff. She’s showing up like it’s Fashion Week and he’s dressed like he’s laying bricks. Timberland boots. At a club. Yuck. 

He shook his head again, this time for himself. Pathetic.

He watched her wrap an arm around her boyfriend. The other DJ barely glanced at her, tapping a button on his controller without even returning the hug properly.

She deserves better. Way better.

─── 🏁

Lando wouldn’t admit it out loud. Hell, he barely admitted it to himself.

But for the next few days, he found himself checking the club’s DJ schedule the second he clocked in. Just a quick glance. Nothing suspicious. Totally professional.

If that DJ was on the lineup, Lando would roll his eyes, mutter something like “of course,” and mentally brace for a long shift of watching him flirt with half the female clientele.

Not that he was watching for him.

Okay. Maybe he was checking if she would be there.

Which was stupid. He didn’t even know her name. Not officially, anyway. The bartender had mentioned it once, but it got drowned out by the bass. And Lando was too proud to ask for it again.

So he just waited.

And when she did show up?

Jesus Christ.

He’d be behind the decks, fake-focused on his mixer while she walked in like she owned the damn place. Every time.

Low-cut tops in every possible color, backless halters tied so dangerously loose it made him worry for her sanity and his. High-waisted jeans one day, a tiny skirt the next. Always with that sharp eyeliner and glossy brown lips.

It was like watching temptation itself cruise through the door and toss him a casual wave of indifference.

And Lando was not indifferent.

He’d see her slip over to her boyfriend whose entire personality was apparently cigarettes and Axe body spray and Lando would fight the urge to gag.

How the fuck did he pull her?

That question haunted him.

It annoyed him so much he started making a game of it.

He’d accidentally bump into her at the bar. Twice. Maybe three times.

“Oops, my bad,” he’d say, offering that stupidly charming grin he knew worked on most girls. “You alright?”

She’d smile back, polite. Slightly surprised.

“Yeah. All good.”

All good.

Right. Even though her boyfriend was currently ignoring her to hit on someone in the VIP booth.

Lando leaned on the counter, pretending to order a drink. “Your boyfriend always this... friendly with the clientele?”

She blinked. Her expression tightened. “He’s just being nice.”

He snorted. Didn’t bother hiding it. “Yeah. Super nice. Makes everyone feel special. Real public service.”

She didn’t even have a comeback. Just rolled her eyes and turned away.

But he caught it. That tiny flicker of embarrassment.

Later, he’d lean over to the bartender. “Smells like cigarettes and what? Axe? Guy’s a walking fire hazard.”Bartender cackled. “You’re terrible.” Lando shrugged, eyes still on her across the floor. “Can’t figure out how she hasn’t ditched him yet. It’s a damn mystery.”

He tried to convince himself he was just curious.

He was a DJ. He noticed people. It was his job.

But his gaze always slid back to her.

How she smiled when she talked, even when she looked tired. How she pulled at her top like she was nervous it might slip but wore it anyway. How she leaned over the bar to talk to the staff like they were old friends.

He knew what she looked like.

But for the first time in days, he realized he was starting to learn who she was.

And the worst part?

He liked her.

He really, really liked her.

─── 🏁

She wasn’t stupid.

That was the part that stung the most.

She saw him. Every single time.

Her boyfriend had this routine down to an art: lean over the bar, smile that crooked, lazy smile, whisper in some girl's ear just loud enough to make her giggle and flip her hair. Offer a free drink like it was a promise of something more.

It bothered her. Of course it did.

She just refused to admit it.

She'd stand there, arms folded, pretending she wasn’t watching. Pretending she didn’t hear the bartenders whispering about “the third one tonight.”

God, it was humiliating.

But she was too damn proud to show it.

Because once, back when they first met, he was the first guy to ever make her feel wanted in that all-consuming way she thought she deserved. The kind who said she was the hottest girl in the room and treated her like it.

Maybe she’d just gotten addicted to that feeling.

Or maybe she was too stubborn to admit she was seeing him through rose-colored glasses she refused to take off.

And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she kept showing up for this.

Actually, scratch that.

She knew exactly why.

Because every time she walked into that club, there was another DJ behind the booth who actually seemed to see her.

Not in the lazy, grabby way her boyfriend did.

But in this sharp, amused, way-too-observant way that made her feel like she was on display even when she was fully dressed.

Which she rarely was, let’s be honest.

She liked her clothes tight and her tops low. Tonight was no different; a deep V-neck halter that was practically begging to fall open if she breathed wrong. Paired with jeans that sat so low on her hips she kept checking they were still on.

She knew what she looked like.

So did he.

Lando.

God, even his name was infuriatingly hot.

Those eyes, bright, almost obscene green even under the shifting club lights, tracked her like he was a predator and she was something he was starving for.

He always seemed to be there.

Passing behind her at the bar, brushing her lower back with his hand like it was an accident, except it never felt like one. “Careful there,” he’d murmur, voice low enough to make goosebumps rise on her arms. The way he’d squeeze her waist just slightly before letting go.

He always smiled when she jumped at his touch. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

And fuck, she hated how much she liked it.

He was worse when he talked.

Dry. Cutting. “Oh, your boyfriend’s working hard tonight. Think he’s got the whole bar covered?” Or his personal favorite, always with that lazy smirk: “Gotta admire a guy who can multitask. DJ set and an afterparty sign-up sheet. Respect.”

She’d scoff. Roll her eyes. But inside?

She felt it like a hook behind her ribs, tugging her closer to the edge of something dangerous.

Because he wasn’t subtle. Not at all.

He looked at her like he was imagining what she looked like out of those clothes. Like he could already see it.

And worse?

She let him.

Let herself imagine what those fingers felt like if they weren’t being polite, weren’t resting feather-light on her hip just to pass by.

What that mouth would feel like on her neck, lips, anywhere, and every where.

What those eyes would look like when he was above her, under her, anywhere he wanted.

It was pathetic.

But the thing that burned most?

She didn’t even know why she put up with her boyfriend anymore.

Because every time she walked in here, she caught herself wondering how long she’d have to keep lying to herself before she did something she couldn’t take back.

Something she desperately wanted to do anyway.

─── 🏁

Lando pushed the back door open, letting the muffled thump of bass spill out onto the pavement before it swung shut behind him. The air outside was damp, cooler than the sweat-soaked, neon-blasted club interior. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

He’d needed to get out of there for a minute.

Partly to ditch the girl who’d practically climbed into the booth with him, way too handsy for his taste, her acrylic nails tapping on his shoulder, her lips brushing his ear. He’d peeled her off with a smile that wasn’t quite polite.

Mostly, though?

He was looking for someone in particular.

He didn’t know when he’d gotten so predictable. He just knew he was hoping he’d catch her slipping out for air, maybe leaning against the brick wall checking her phone, rolling her eyes at her idiot boyfriend, looking stupidly gorgeous while pretending she didn’t know he was watching.

And tonight, lucky him.

She was right there.

Except she wasn’t smiling.

No, she was furious.

He froze halfway down the steps, heart tightening when he realized what he was seeing.

They were arguing. Loud enough that he could hear them over the echo of the club’s bass vibrating the door.

Her boyfriend’s voice was sharp, cruel. “I’m sick of this. Sick of you showing up every fucking night like you own the place.” Her jaw was clenched so tight he was surprised she could even talk. “Oh, I’m sorry, is my support suffocating you?” He barked out a laugh, ugly and humorless. “Yeah, actually. It is. Jesus, get a fucking hobby.”

Lando’s hands curled into fists in his jacket pockets.

He shouldn’t be listening.

It felt like intruding. Like he was spying on something private.

But he couldn’t look away.

Not when she was blinking back tears so furiously she smudged her liner with the back of her hand, trying to look angry instead of gutted.

Not when he got a good look at what she was wearing tonight.

A black dress, tight, thin straps, lace at the neckline that hugged her chest in a way that was almost unfair. She looked like sin bottled and labeled for him only, not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

But right now?

She looked miserable.

He watched as her boyfriend threw his hands up in exasperation. “Whatever. I’m going home. Do what you want.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard they nearly disappeared in her head. “Yeah, fuck you too.”

He stalked off down the sidewalk without another word, disappearing around the corner.

And she just stood there.

Arms crossed. Chin up.

But her chest was rising and falling too fast.

Lando swallowed hard.

He should go back inside. This wasn’t his business.

But his feet had a mind of their own.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he was already moving toward her, boots crunching on loose gravel.

She didn’t see him at first, too busy glaring after her boyfriend’s retreating silhouette.

He cleared his throat softly. “Hey.”

She turned, startled. Eyes rimmed red but blazing.

Lando hesitated for half a second, this wasn’t his fight, he knew that.

But fuck it.

He kept walking until he was right in front of her. Close enough to see the way her dress quivered at her rapid breathing.

Close enough to smell her perfume: sweet, musky, like warm nights and bad decisions he was dying to make.

He didn’t know what he planned to say.

But he knew he couldn’t just leave her standing there alone.

─── 🏁

She didn’t cry.

She wouldn’t. Not out here.

Not where everyone could see her, where he could see her.

Her boyfriend’s words still rang in her ears, ugly and sharp: “Get a fucking hobby.”

Like showing up to support him, to just be near him, was somehow a burden. Like caring too much was something to be embarrassed about.

She stared out at the street, arms crossed so tightly over her chest that her fingernails dug into her skin. She blinked fast, trying to stop the tears away before they could fall. Her throat ached from holding them back.

She heard footsteps before she saw him.

Soft crunch of gravel. A subtle exhale.

Her heart sank. She didn’t want a pity speech. Not from the bartender, not from a bouncer, not—

“Hey.”

Her chest tightened.

Of course.

She turned. And there he was.

Lando stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jacket, eyes steady on hers. His green eyes looked almost golden under the glow of the overhead light. He looked calm. Too calm, like he didn’t just walk into the middle of a mess she’d tried to keep quiet.

She straightened her shoulders. She hated being seen like this.

She hated that it was him seeing her like this.

Because the second he looked at her like that concerned, quiet, maybe even a little protective, she felt herself splintering all over again.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

She gave a breathy, sarcastic laugh. “Peachy.”

He didn’t smile. Just stepped closer. “You shouldn’t stay out here alone.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

He nodded once. Took another slow step forward. “Let me drive you home.”

Her pulse kicked up.

She opened her mouth to say no. The word was right there.

But it caught on the back of her tongue.

Not because she didn’t want to accept.

But because she wasn’t sure what would happen if she did.

A tight car. A long drive. Just the two of them.

His hand on the gearshift. His eyes flicking over to her every time the streetlights passed.

What if he touched her again? Casually. On the thigh. On the waist. The way he always did when he passed her in the club, just enough to make her breath catch.

What if she leaned in?

What if she did something stupid?

She looked away, jaw tight. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said gently. “And it’s late.”

She didn’t respond.

“Come on,” he added, softer now. “Just a ride. That’s all.”

She looked up at him again. He wasn’t pushing. His face was open. Calm.

But those damn eyes…

She was tired. Humiliated. And cold.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He didn’t say I told you so. Didn’t smirk. Just nodded once and turned toward the parking lot.

And she followed knowing full well she wasn’t just getting in a car.

She was stepping over a line.

And praying she had the strength not to cross the next one.

─── 🏁

Lando unlocked the car without looking at her, letting her slip into the passenger seat in silence. The door shut with a dull thunk.

It felt too quiet after the pounding club.

He started the engine, glancing at her for the first time since they left the sidewalk.

She was turned toward the window already. Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes fixed on nothing.

He waited for her to say something. An address. A neighborhood. Anything.

She didn’t.

Just kept breathing in these shallow, shaky little sighs that fogged the glass.

So he put the car in gear and drove.

It wasn’t like he had a plan. He just needed to get her away from there. Away from him.

He swallowed, stealing another glance at her.

She looked like sin in that stupid dress.

Thin straps biting into her shoulders. Lace hugging her chest so tight it moved with every ragged breath. Her thighs pressed together, shifting every time the car hit a bump.

He shouldn’t be looking.

God, he shouldn’t be thinking anything right now.

She’d just been crying. She was humiliated. Furious.

But his eyes kept sliding down her legs anyway. Watching the way her knees brushed together, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. Like they were begging to be pulled apart.

He gripped the wheel harder, knuckles whitening.

Stop. Jesus, stop.

She sighed again, this tiny, frustrated sound. Her lips parted, glossy even in the dull streetlight.

He could almost feel them.

He flexed his fingers on the leather.

It was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

She was fresh from a fight with her boyfriend, her ogre-looking asshole of a boyfriend, he reminded himself.

But still her boyfriend.

She wasn’t his.

Didn’t matter how many times he told himself she deserved better.

Didn’t matter how many times he’d imagined her smiling for him instead.

He cleared his throat, voice rough. “You gonna tell me where to go, or am I just driving till we hit the ocean?”

She didn’t move for a beat. Then turned her head, eyes a mess but sharp. “Just drive.”

It wasn’t said kindly.

But it wasn’t leave me alone, either.

He swallowed. Nodded once.

He drove.

And the whole time, he tried not to think about pulling over, reaching across the seat, grabbing her face and kissing the fight out of her.

Tried not to think about undoing her seatbelt so he could drag her onto his lap and make her forget every cruel word that asshole had ever said.

Tried not to think about how badly he wanted to show her exactly who she really deserved.

He failed spectacularly.

But he kept driving anyway.

Because for tonight, that was enough.

─── 🏁

She didn’t even know where they were.

She’d told him to just drive, and he had.

No questions. No lectures. Just silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional squeak of the wipers brushing away the city mist.

She watched the streetlights blur past. Orange and white. Warm and cold.

But she wasn’t really seeing them.

She was too busy trying to hold herself together.

Her arms were wrapped around her own waist, squeezing tight. She could feel her heart in her ribs, fluttering wildly, embarrassingly desperate.

She could smell him. Even over the cheap car freshener. That stupid masculine cologne that clung to his jacket.

She felt the heat radiating off him every time they hit a stoplight and he glanced over.

He was so close.

Too close.

She swallowed, hard.

It wasn’t the lights. It wasn’t the city. It wasn’t anything out there that made her say:

“Can you… can you pull over here?”

He blinked. Turned to her.

“Here?”

She nodded quickly, eyes darting out the window. She lied through her teeth. “The lights are… pretty.”

She almost laughed.

Pretty?

She didn’t give a fuck about the damn lights.

The truth burned hot under her skin.

It wasn’t the lights, it was the heat.

The heat she couldn’t shake every time she felt his eyes on her.

The heat that pooled beneath her every time his stupid big hands flexed on the steering wheel.

The heat that made her bite her lip until it stung, imagining things she shouldn’t.

Things that were wrong.

Because she had a boyfriend.

Didn’t matter that he was a piece of shit.

Didn’t matter that he’d left her crying outside the club.

She was still his.

And yet here she was, in another man’s car, intentionally stopping in the middle of nowhere just to be alone with him a little longer.

Just so she didn’t have to go home yet.

Because if she was honest, truly, humiliatingly honest,

She didn’t want to go home.

She wanted him.

God, she wanted him so badly it hurt.

Her mind spun with it, filthy, frantic.

A hundred different ways she could say thank you for the ride.

One with her climbing into his lap, grinding down on him until he couldn’t pretend to be polite anymore.

Another with both of them spilling into the backseat, windows fogged, her dress hitched up to her waist while he fucked her so deep the whole car rocked.

And her personal favorite,

Sliding off her seat onto the floor between his legs, the car cramped and dark, his hand tangled in her hair while she took him deep in her mouth. Letting him guide her pace, letting him groan her name like he’d been imagining it forever.

She squeezed her thighs together, trying to stop the aching throb that settled there.

It didn’t help.

Nothing helped.

She turned away from him, pretending to watch the streetlights.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, hating how breathless she sounded. “Here’s good.”

He didn’t argue.

Just put the car in park and let the engine idle, glancing over at her in the dim glow.

─── 🏁

He slowed the car to a stop at the curb when she told him to.

“Here?” he asked, brow furrowed.

She nodded, breath hitching. “Yeah. Here’s good.”

He blinked.

He looked out through the windshield.

The only “lights” around were from an ugly old street lamp buzzing with moths and a grimy billboard for floral-scented hand soap.

Pretty?

He almost scoffed.

What the fuck was she talking about?

He turned his head slowly to call her bluff and froze.

She wasn’t looking at the window at all now.

She was staring at nothing, eyes glazed, breathing shallow.

Her fingers dug so hard into her thighs he could see the indent of her nails even in the dim light. She squeezed them together like she was trying to break her own bones.

And then he really saw her.

The flush on her chest. The tremor in her breath. The way her lip was caught between her teeth, wet and glossy.

Oh.

Oh.

He felt heat flood through his chest, down to his gut, settling painfully in his lap.

She wasn’t looking at the lights.

She was fighting herself.

He swallowed hard, hand tightening on the steering wheel until the leather creaked.

Her name left his mouth for the first time, unsteady but deliberate.

She jolted a little, turning to face him.

And fuck.

She was looking at him like she’d strip him bare right there if he even hinted at it.

That was the same look he’d been sending her all night.

All week.

Maybe longer.

Her lips parted. She breathed once, twice, shaky and hungry.

Then her voice came out cracked, pleading. “We shouldn’t.”

It sounded like a warning.

It sounded like please stop me.

He stared at her for a heartbeat.

Then unbuckled her seatbelt with a single snap.

She gasped but didn’t move away.

He dropped the belt to the side and reached for her waist, fingers hot and heavy, deliberate as he pulled her toward him.

She resisted for half a second, her nails digging into the seat, but her body betrayed her. She was already lifting her hips, already leaning over the console.

He grabbed her firmly, guiding her onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She settled there, thighs spread over his, dress riding high on her hips, breathing so fast he felt it everywhere they touched.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his own breath coming ragged.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard, eyes glassy.

Her mouth trembled. “We shouldn’t…”

But she didn’t move away.

Didn’t even try.

And he didn’t let her finish before he kissed her.

Her weight settled on his lap, and for a second he thought he might lose his mind from just that.

Her thighs bracketed his hips, warm and tense. Her breath spilled over his cheek.

She didn’t push him away.

She didn’t say stop.

When he kissed her, she kissed him back with a violence that sent sparks behind his eyes. Teeth clashing. Lips slick. Her fingers buried in his hair, pulling, needing.

He let himself drown in it.

Because fuck consequences.

He didn’t care about the club, or the dark street, or the idea of some cop shining a flashlight in the window.

He didn’t even care about her Timberland-wearing asshole boyfriend who’d abandoned her outside like she was trash.

All he cared about was the way she tasted when she whimpered into his mouth.

He broke the kiss only to drag his hand up her thigh, pushing her dress higher, bunching the fabric around her hips. She shivered under his touch, gasping softly.

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

The way the lace straps had fallen halfway down her shoulders.

The way her chest heaved, threatening to spill out of the tight bodice.

Jesus Christ.

He wanted to feel every part of her.

She stared back at him, eyes dark and hungry. Lips swollen from kissing.

Then she did something that made him stop breathing.

She reached for the hem of her dress.

He watched, fucking hypnotized, as she peeled it up and over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside onto the dashboard.

She sat there in just her black lace bra and tiny underwear, straddling him in the driver’s seat, panting.

He swallowed hard. His voice broke when he spoke. “Fuck…”

He leaned forward, mouth hovering over her chest. One hand came up to her back, fumbling for the clasp of her bra.

She let him.

It popped open easily, the straps sliding off her shoulders.

She shivered, her breath stuttering.

He didn’t even think. He let the bra drop onto the seat beside them.

She was bare. Warm. Soft.

He ran his hands up her sides, palms big enough to span her waist, thumbs brushing under her breasts.

He wanted to memorize the way she arched into him.

And then she surprised him again.

Her fingers went to his belt.

He tensed, heartbeat slamming in his throat.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t even look him in the eyes at first.

Just undid it. Button, zipper, metal clinking in the cramped car.

She hesitated for half a second, glancing up at him.

His breath hitched.

He let his hips lift gently, helping her.

Her knuckles brushed him through his boxers. He groaned, deep and helpless.

She moaned at the sound.

Like she liked it.

Like she’d been waiting to hear it.

His head fell back against the seat.

Fuck...

He didn’t think about getting caught.

Didn’t think about what it would mean tomorrow.

Didn’t think about her boyfriend, or her mascara-stained tears outside the club.

He just thought about now.

About the way she was looking at him like she was starving.

About how goddamn lucky he was that she was in his lap at all.

He didn’t remember deciding to move.

It was pure instinct.

Her hips were rocking subtly in his lap, breath coming in these sharp, shallow gasps every time she shifted.

Without thinking, he pushed up against her.

Hard.

Deliberate.

He felt the wet heat of her through that thin scrap of her underwear.

She choked on a sound, half-moan, half-whimper.

It lit him up from the inside out.

Yeah. Feel that.

He did it again. Grinding up, making sure she felt every inch of how badly she was wrecking him.

Her fingers clawed at his shoulders. Then she leaned in, mouth dragging hot and wet along his jaw until she found his ear.

She nipped at it.

Not gently.

It sent a violent shiver through him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice breaking.

She didn’t even wait. Her hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up. He lifted his arms obediently, brain short-circuiting as she peeled it off and tossed it somewhere in the dark.

He was panting.

He should have stopped. Said something.

We shouldn’t.

But when he looked at her, hair a mess, eyes black, chest heaving, there wasn’t a single chance in hell he could make himself say it.

She went for the band of his boxers next, fingers curling in the elastic.

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t have to.

It was the way she tugged, like she was asking permission and demanding it at the same time.

He swallowed hard, voice shredded. “Okay.”

Like a hungry, stupid boy, he obeyed.

He pushed them down in one swift, fumbling motion, groaning when the cool air hit him, and when she moaned at the sight.

Her nails dug into his shoulders again for balance.

He felt her shake.

He reached down, hands big and warm on her thigh, sliding slowly inward.

She shivered.

He hooked a finger into the side of her panties and pushed them aside, baring her completely to him.

Fuck.

He could feel her.

Hot. Wet.

Waiting.

Their eyes met in the glow of the dashboard lights, both of them breathing like they’d been running for miles.

No words.

None needed.

He lined them up, hands steady even though his whole body trembled.

And when he pushed in, slow but deep, he felt her nails bite him so hard he knew he’d have marks the next day.

Her mouth fell open on a broken moan.

He didn’t even try to stay quiet.

The car was filled with the sound of their harsh breathing, the squeak of leather, the wet heat of bodies colliding in desperate, uncoordinated rhythm.

It was wrong.

It was so fucking wrong.

He knew it.

But neither of them stopped.

Because it was also inevitable.

A mistake they’d both tried so hard to control.

A sin that wasn’t ending tonight.

Just beginning.

─── 🏁

part 2 👀

[belli5]

Love Sick.ᐟ ೀMC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis When you come down with a fever, Macklin refuses to leave your side, determined to care for you, no matter how many kisses it risks or rules you break together.

tags/contains Fluff, Macklin Celebrini x fem!reader. Mild illness, nothing that I’m aware of.

➺ from Sera, to you📨. SOMEONE PLEASE SEND IN GOOD/CUTE MACK PHOTOS TO ME, because genuinely I can’t find no more.

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it! Please do NOT rewrite/repost my work anywhere else without permission!

You wake up to the sound of your own cough, it’s not delicate or cute, but it’s loud and rattling and makes your throat feel like sandpaper. Your nose is stuffy, your head is pounding, and when you open your eyes, the soft morning light sneaks in just enough to remind you it’s too early to feel this awful.

You groan and burrow deeper under the blankets, trying to find a pocket of cool air in the warmth of your feverish body. You’re aware that Mack isn’t in bed next to you, which is odd, because he always is. Even on practice days, he’d sooner be late than leave you alone in the morning without a kiss goodbye.

A second later, you hear him: the soft clang of a mug against the counter, the hum of your boyfriend’s off key morning voice, you smile despite the ache in your head.

You close your eyes and drift for maybe a minute before the door creaks open.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Macklin whispers, stepping inside. He’s holding a steaming mug and a little tray with toast and a cut up orange.

You groan again. “Mack.. I feel gross.”

“You look cute.” He grins, setting the tray on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his fingers through your hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good.”

“Aw, baby.” He leans in and kisses your forehead even though you weakly push at his chest.

“Stop! I don’t want you to get sick,” you protest, voice muffled and scratchy.

“I don’t care,” he says simply and kisses you again, softer this time, right above your brow. “Can’t keep me away.”

You huff, half amused, half miserable. “You’re gonna get sick and then you’ll blame me when you can’t play.”

“I’ll blame my weak immune system, not my beautiful, sick girlfriend.” He reaches for the mug and hands it to you. “I made you tea and toast, you need something in your stomach, baby.”

You sit up slowly, and he props the pillows behind you. When you reach for the mug, your hands tremble just enough that he catches them in his warm ones.

“Careful.” He brings the mug closer, steadying it as you sip and the tea burns in the best way, and you sigh in relief.

“Thank you” you whisper when you’re done.

“You don’t have to thank me” he says, but he looks pleased anyway. “Eat a little toast?”

“Mm.” You nibble at it, managing maybe two bites before you give up and sink back into the pillows. Mack puts the tray aside and pulls the blanket up around your shoulders.

“I’m gonna run you a bath later,” he says, smoothing your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Or a shower, if you want, it might make you feel better.”

“Deal..” you mumble, your eyelids drooping.

You drift in and out for hours, sometimes you wake up and Macklin’s not there, you can hear him moving around the apartment, opening cabinets, calling his mom to ask how much medicine to give you because he wants to get it right.

Later that day when Macklin decides you’ve been cooped up in bed long enough. He finds you exactly where he left you: curled under the blankets with tissues scattered on the nightstand, your phone abandoned on your chest.

“Hey,” he says gently, kneeling next to the bed, he’s got a fresh glass of water in one hand and a little bowl of strawberries in the other. “C’mon, pretty girl, sit up for me.”

You groan dramatically and burrow deeper into the pillow. “Noooo..”

He laughs softly and sets the bowl down so he can peel the blanket away from your face. “You have to eat and drink something or you’ll shrivel up.”

“What if I wan—”

“Too bad.” He grins, undeterred, and slides a hand under your shoulders to help you sit up. “Up we go.”

You’re too weak to argue much, so you let him prop the pillows behind you, he tucks the blanket back around your legs like he’s cocooning you. Then he sits on the edge of the bed, legs turned toward you, one hand stroking your hair away from your forehead.

“You’re burning up again,” he murmurs, frowning just a little, like he feels how you’re feeling. He dips the back of his fingers to your neck, and you shiver under his touch.

“Stop fussing,” you whisper.

“Never.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead anyway. “Open your mouth.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“For the strawberries or I’ll do the air—”

“Mackl—”

But he already picked up a piece and is handing it to your hand. You huff out a tired laugh, which turns into a cough, to which he rubs your back while you catch your breath, patient as ever.

You pop the strawberry in and he watches you chew like he’s waiting for a gold star, taking tge bowl of strawberries from him.

“There she is,” he teases, voice soft. “Good job, baby.”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile, he wipes a bit of juice from your lip with his thumb when it’s needed. He doesn’t rush you, just talks to you in that soft, sweet voice, telling you about the silly thing one of his teammates texted him, or the fact that he wants to make you soup later, even though you both know he’s a terrible cook.

When the strawberries are gone, he sets the bowl aside and hands you the water, waiting until you drink almost half before he lets you stop. Then he pulls you gently into his lap, your legs draped over his thighs as he settles back against the headboard with you curled up against him.

“You wanna be so close to me..” you mumble, nuzzling your face into his chest.

He laughs, nose brushing your hair. “Takes one to know one.”

You feel his hand slide up under the hem of his own shirt you’re wearing, big and warm against your back, rubbing gentle circles into your fever hot skin.

“Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry if you feel sick afterwards,” you apologise weakly, eyes already fluttering shut.

He presses a kiss to your temple, his lips soft and lingering. “Shh, it’s okay, baby.”

[scriptseekstories]

Thou Art With Child?!

Chapter 2- Homebound

A/N: Well well well, look who’s back with another chapter and totally not avoiding the fact I have to write the next chapter for my Batfam story 😎

I’m kidding 😭 I’ll get to it, yall have 12 chapters let the other stories get some light to my account

Affogato cookie works hard to get what he wants. He wants to watch his rivals crumble and fall to be on top. Yet he seeks to be understood, he yearns to be recognized for what he has worked for, had given up, and created for.

You worked hard to be what you always wanted to be. You want to help cookies at their lowest to see them rise to the top. Yet you wish you could be more, you yearn to run with them, the ones who wrapped their arms around your heart.

The both of you require something that may not ever be achievable by being alone, but maybe it can be found in the solitude of you and Affogato… and Baby Dough.

“There we go, all cozy and secure,” You set your bundle of joy on your bed, dusting away any old dust that collected from the years to prevent Baby Dough from sneezing.

You were getting the hang of this being a new parent to this baby dough, which was making you realize it was getting too easy. You’re sure that more trials of parenting will be ahead of you, but you’ll worry about that later.

What you need to worry about is the cookie who freed you from the amber.

“Well, now you have gotten back your lovely humble home, what shall we do now~?” Affogato cookie cooed as you walked outside where he waited for you. You hummed while looking at the mess you accidentally created from that amber exploding.

“First things, I want to get rid of that mess outside,” You turned to the mess and stretched your arms out. You didn’t wield a staff, relying on your hands as to not have a crutch when relying on an object.

But apparently being stuck in time meant your magic was wonky, because instead of gently lifting the giant chunks of amber off the ground, you send a sound wave that blasted every single chunks into the sky, never to be seen again.

“…Whoops…” You meekly said, slowly lowering your arms back down as Affogato watched with wide eyes, before having twinkles in his eyes and swooned at you.

“My my~ I’m impressed by your strength and generosity~!” Affogato cookie praised, “A cookie such as yourself must’ve been a powerful mage all those years back, and a kindhearted one too~,” He lifted his staff your way, smiling his usual sly smile.

You stared at the staff for a moment before pushing it away with a nervous grin. Affogato cookie seemed like a weird cookie to you, a little unhinged when you laid your eyes on him, but maybe it’s because of the fact he found you in a giant amber stone.

Obviously you’re not THAT stupid, and you are aware how he gives off “secretly evil and conniving” vibes. But by the disheveled and raggedy appearance he had when you first met him, he was part of some fancy and high class land until he must’ve ran away or gotten exiled.

Your brain is saying that he released you for a selfish reason and that he will most likely harm you, but your heart is not willing to turn down a cookie who is obviously in desperate distress that needs a home.

So as of right now, you’ll treat him like a guest, and deal with him like a threat later.

It took the whole day for the two of you to clean what couldn’t be organized with your magic. It was clear that Affogato cookie doesn’t have that much physical strength, watching him weakly try to push your couch.

“Obviously your couch is rooted to the ground from the years,” He defended after a moment of pushing. You giggled before effortlessly squatting down and lifting one end up. Affogato cookie’s jaw was practically on the floor seeing me easily move the couch and slapping away dust from the cushions.

“There!” You beamed, before feeling your heart drop for a moment when you saw the way he stared at you. Great, your anxiety is back. He then shook his head and did a dramatic swoon, clasping his hands together.

“Oh how truly strong you are, (Name) cookie~! I admire your power!” You immediately felt flattered, memories of how Golden Cheese cookie used to praise your strength too. You miss her…

“Let me thank you for freeing us,” You quickly responded and turn to the wall, your memories still fresh as you pulled a locked chest from under the corner shelf.

“If I know one thing about the Hollyberry Kingdom, is that the berry juice never goes bad,” You rummaged through the chest, before grinning and lifting up two big bottles of berry juice.

“Haha! Yes!” You cheered, “As a way for thanking you for freeing us, I wish to share such precious drinks with you, Affogato cookie!” You gave your best Hollyberry cookie impression you can, but immediately felt flustered by the blank look on Affogato cookie’s face.

“I don’t indulge myself with nonsense such as “berry juice”, my dear (Name) cookie,” He scoffed, “I aquire a more refined taste of sweet juice,” He placed his hand on his chest and huffed. You raised an eyebrow because he didn’t once tried to fix his ruffled appearance but shook your head.

“It’s the least I could do,” You reassured him, back to your introverted self while you sat down on your couch. He reluctantly sat on the still dusty couch, scrunching his face in disgust.

“You understand I don’t wish to partake in frivolous drinking?” He sneered before flinching when you reached out in an attempt to fix his appearance. He realized this and quickly smoothed his hair and fluffed his boa.

“Listen, I may not understand you, Affogato cookie, but I want to,” You said, watching him, “By the state your clothes looked, you were exiled from your home, weren’t you?” Affogato cookie froze, eyes snapping at yours. Did you caught on to him?! Are you doing this out of pity?!

“Hmph! As if you know anything about me, darling!” His hands twitched over to his staff, battling with his brain to simply blast a wave of poison into the air or whack your head with it as you continued.

“I wasn’t really fond of my village either, thought I was better off alone. But I found friends who made me realize it wasn’t that bad on having some company,” You said, smiling sadly while rubbing your hand on your empty glass. It may not be the best example bringing up the heroes you fell for, but it was something Affogato cookie needed to hear.

“Let’s be friends, Affogato cookie,” You smiled at him, causing the cookie to cross his arms and huffed, “Who said anything about friends? We are merely associates,” You couldn’t help but breathed a quiet chuckle when you noticed the little dark shades on his cheeks.

Just then, you heard your Baby Dough start to make noises from your room. You quickly retrieved your precious bundle of dough and soothed them,

“What shall I call you, my baby dough?” You cooed at your baby, who gurgled and giggled at your hand tickling their face. Affogato watches intently, witnessing you being a frazzled yet loving parent to this baby that looked so different from cookies he’s seen.

“Their dough… such unique patterns. Do tell, who was the other cookie?” He asked smoothly. You stopped your actions for a moment, sighting the options on telling Affogato cookie who was- or were the other cookies. It still ached your heart.

“Long gone… heh, lucked out on child support, right?” You joked, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. Affogato cookie stared at you before bursting into laughter, which made you blush hard before laughing with him too.

He truly found you amusing, so maybe he’ll enact his tricks later. Just to see how easy it is to have you in his hand without his scent.

Hours later when Doughy was finished fussing and eating mushed up jellies you made, they eventually fell asleep and you placed them back onto your bed. You walked back to Affogato cookie who still resided in your living room.

“There, Doughy is now asleep, and we- I mean, um… I could drink a little,” Now you felt embarrassed at how desperate you wanted to drink, not like you were addicted. You just wanted to ease the pain that was caused by the fact you outlived your friends and the people you once knew.

Affogato cookie rolled his eyes and leaned at the edge of the couch, seeing how much you worry about what he thinks. Yet the thought made his stomach swirl. He cleared his throat and shuffled to sit upright.

“I’ll consider in taking a sip, so you would stop looking like a kicked cake hound puppy,” He declared, eyes shut in a resigned expression, but grinned ever so slightly while opening one eye to see me excitedly smile and grab two glasses.

“Drink up!”

꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁

“I got news!!” A voice echoed through the halls, alerting frantic guards when couldn’t manage to catch the erratic traveling archeologist.

“Who is that?” Dark Cacao cookie looked up from the table as they all flinched when the doors flung open. There panting like she ran a marathon was a cookie dressed like an adventure, huge clunky backpack ready to take her out as her glasses were tilted.

“You had no idea how much I restrained myself after passing a museum while running here!” She panted, trying to catch her breath. She then gasped and beamed at all five Ancients sitting in the meeting room she burst into.

“Olive cookie? I thought you were back at the Golden Cheese Kingdom!” Gingerbrave waved over at their archeologist friend, who almost slipped and fell at the pristine marble floors when she snapped out of her shock.

“That I was, my friend! But I couldn’t focus on rebuilding the lost kingdom because of this!” Olive cookie shuffled with her bag, huffing and panting as her backpack was larger and… blocky than usual.

“Look what fell through the sky last morning!!” She grinned while lifting a chunk of rock, “There I was, attempting to find more tunnels throughout the Golden Cheese Kingdom, when this giant clump of amber almost caved my poor head in!!” She patted her hat proudly, all the while struggling to lift the chunk of rock over her head.

“Woah! So shiny!” Chili Pepper cookie’s eyes sparkled, “You traveled all the way here since last morning?” Strawberry cookie asked worriedly, which made Olive cookie waver her off with a shrug and a smile.

“Woah ho ho!! So cool! It looks like honey!” Gingerbrave’s eyes sparkled, “Does it taste like honey?” Custard cookie III instinctively opened his mouth to eat it before being pulled back by Wizard cookie.

“Pure Vanilla cookie… look,” White Lily cookie mumbled to her long friend, who squinted closely at the rock Olive cookie ranted about. He slowly got up and walked over to where they were and crouched down.

“May I see this?” Pure Vanilla cookie gently asked, causing the adventurer to bit back a squeal and nodded excitedly. The healer held the rock dearly, as if it was meant to be gentle with and cared for. They recognized what type of rock this was-.

“Amber…” Dark Cacao cookie noted when Pure Vanilla cookie turned and set it down at the table the Ancients resided. Despite the natural creation of amber, the color such as this one they haven’t seen for years, decades even centuries, created by one cookie…

“Now normally I wouldn’t be interested in a common rock, but this fell through the sky with smaller bits! And look,” Olive cookie rambled on while pacing around the room. While Gingerbrave and his friends listen in fascination, the Ancients were staring at the chunk of amber with wide eyes.

“Specs of magic trapped inside, ancient magic that hasn’t been used for decades!” Custard cookie III gasped in excitement at Olive cookie’s words, “It must’ve been connected to that blast of light days ago!” Wizard cookie guessed, causing the Ancients to look at one another.

“What a priceless treasure,” Golden Cheese cookie ran her hand along the amber and watched as the magic dust glowed on her palm. It tickled on her dough, as if the magic was made to heal the smallest of wounds.

“Could it be…?” Hollyberry looked over at Pure Vanilla. The healer cookie opened his eyes, staring back at his old friend. They were in their own worlds right now, the voice of Olivia cookie fading away.

“Impossible…” Dark Cacao cookie gripped his sword tightly, but not from anger. If this came from the cookie they thought of, it truly wasn’t possible. It’s been almost two centuries.

“But is it truly…?” White Lily cookie looked up at Pure Vanilla cookie. This amber, this magic that is trapped inside of it, truly was one of a kind. And that was a bad sign amongst the good and hopeful thoughts.

“Whoever wielded this magic, needs to be found now,”

A/N: So far, Calico cookie is winning the polls, with Fruitcake cookie right behind! I’ll wait one more day to gather up the votes, so exciting!

Oh ho ho ho!! What else is in the future of your little family? Will Affogato cookie be the dad that stepped up? Or will you be found by the baby daddies and mommies that you accidentally baby trapped yourself with?

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @ceramic-raven @danart501 @esposadomd @trashlanternfish360 @jjoppees @nervousalpacalady @eyeless-kun @pinkcloudcat @lunamonkeypower @soriansick @your-favorite-god @fandom-freak-123 @cupid73 @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @otterluver05

[dizziedupthewriter]

silver springs

dean winchester x reader

~

summary: reader finds out about dean’s deal.

warnings: uhhhh kinda angsty? lil bit a language -not edited or proofread 💀

~

‘honey you gotta eat something, please’

‘m not hungry. maybe later.’

you sighed. both you and dean had just suffered a terrible loss. sammy was gone. neither of you knew what to do next.

bobby had gone off to check up on his lead after dean had flipped out on him. you stood in the doorframe from afar.

“you thirsty at all?”

silence.

“alright well, im gunna run out real quick and grab some things yeah?”

“mhmn.”

you walked over to where dean sat at bobby’s table and kissed his cheek.

.

you took the keys out of your pocket and opened bobby’s front door, he was still not home but you noticed the impala in a different spot than it was when you left.

“hey hun? i brought you pie?”

you walked around the corner and saw him sitting up and talking with sam.

“hey de- I-“

shocked was an understatement. sammy, who was just dead for three days, is now sat up in conversation. immediately you knew what dean had done, but you kept your composure.

“hi sam, how you feeling?”

“okay. just a little out of it” sam nodded.

“would you excuse us for a sec? dean i just need help lifting the crap in the trunk please.” you lied straight through your teeth, but you didn’t care. you were furious.

dean nodded and stepped away with you outside. he followed you out near the back shed where you knew sam would not hear. then you started.

“what the HELL. did you do?”

“baby listen i-“

“no! i’m not listening to you! are you fucking kidding me? how long. how long did you bargain for?”

dean went silent.

his green eyes went glossy, unsure of how to explain it to you.

“i had to. im sorry.”

“dean, listen i get it. losing sam like that was the worst experience either of us have had. But why. Why did you do it?”

“He’s my brother, ‘m supposed to protect him. Always. No matter what.”

You understood his need to protect and play the hero card, hell youve done it too. yet the rage you felt towards him was nothing like youve felt before. why would he do this? sacrifice himself for his brother? not realizing that also meant sacrificing his relationship with the one closest to him. did all those ‘i love yous’ mean nothing? all the bickering and the occasional make up make out in the backseat of the impala? you were at a loss.

“i cant believe you.”

“what?” he said with grit.

“youre fucking ridiculous.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“what about us, dean? did you think about that before you sold yourself off?”

“I-“

“you didnt!” you cut him off. “If you had, I wouldn’t be out here going off on you!”

he just stared. if it was anyone else yelling at him he’d yell back, but you? never. he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a argument like this and he wouldnt dare put you through that. he knew what he did had its flaws. he quietly spoke up.

“i got a year left.”

“a year? just one?”

he nodded. eyes never leaving yours.

“i dont even know what to say. a year? jesus.” you took a shaky step backwards. looking around for something, anything to help. your nerves were catching up.

dean took a step forward towards you, he put his arms out and rested his hands on your shoulders.

“i’ll be okay” he said. you shook your head and bit your lip.

“i wont.” a tear rolled down your cheek. you shrugged out of his grip and walked away.

he waited for a second then returned to the house. he stood on the front porch and watched as you drove away, knowing that you just needed time to think. he ran a hand over his face and through his hair then went back inside. all he could do now was wait.

~

a/n: woah guys first fic on the blog. ik its ass but i try 😔

dean winchester ily

[clouji]

Folded

+ ex!hamzah x reader, complicated feelings, making out.

You were just grabbing your lip balm off the table while Hamzah was in the kitchen, looking for more snacks. His phone was face-up, unlocked, and the texts lit up like they were begging to be read.

You didn’t mean to look. You really didn’t. But there it was.

Some girl, saved under a name you never seen before. As you scroll, all you see are flirts and inside jokes . One of them ending with, “I’m still mad you didn’t stay last time :( I miss you.”

It hit like a punch in the face.

When he came back into the room, you were already holding the phone, standing there stiff. It unraveled fast after that, a mix of accusations and raised voices. You didn’t let him talk. You didn’t want to hear whatever explanation he was scrambling to come up with.

You were furious. But more than that, you were hurt.

So you left. Slammed the door behind you and told yourself you were done with him.

He keeps blowing up your phone but you texted him that you need space and time to think, which he did give you. A few days passed. No texts. No calls. Just silence. And it killed you. You kept drafting messages in your Notes app, rewriting the same sentence ten different ways.

Then finally, you sent it. Just five words.

“Come pick up your hoodie.”

You thought it was a stupid excuse, but you didn’t expect him to actually reply.

Few hours later, You didn’t expect him to show up.

You shouldn’t have opened the door. You tell yourself that as soon as you see him— wearing wrinkly white shirt, black sweatpants, tired eyes hiding behind his glasses, standing like he doesn’t belong here anymore.

He doesn’t.

But he still looks like home, and that’s the crazy part.

“My hoodie?” he asks right away like this is just a casual errand, like he didn’t tear something out of you and leave it unfinished.

You say nothing. Just turn and walk back inside, grabbing the folded hoodie off the arm of the couch. Hold it out like it’s nothing, even though it still smells like something you haven’t let go of.

He takes it, slow. His fingers brush yours.

“Damn,” he laughs awkwardly. “You’re not even gonna let me in?”

You hesitate, then wave him in with a sigh that says don’t make this more than it is.

He enters like muscle memory. Like this place still remembers him.

You sit on opposite ends of the couch, and the silence between you stretches like a wound.

He picks at a loose string on the hoodie in his lap. You cross your arms. You don’t know why you let him sit down. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was weakness.

“Alright,” he breaks the silence “I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I missed you so much, but if you’re not ready to talk about it I guess I’ll—”

Then his phone buzzes. Not once but twice.

“That’s her?”

Hamzah freezes. “What?”

“That girl you’ve been texting,” you spit, “Did she tell you to come get your shit too?”

He looks at you like you’ve slapped him. “Are you serious right now?”

You just stare. Your throat’s tight, but you won’t let him see that.

“Didn’t take you long, huh? Already found someone else to fold into.”

“Hey don’t say that,” he snaps, hoodie balled in his fist now. “Don’t act like I did something wrong when you didn’t even give me a fucking chance to explain.”

You blink. “Explain what, Hamzah? Seeing those texts was already enough—”

“Sounds like you didn’t read the whole thing. She was talking about her stupid party!” he raises his voice, not in anger.. in frustration. “How many times do I need to tell you that she’s my friend? I guess you never trusted me enough to even believe it. You just… left.”

You want to fight back. You want to scream.

But mostly, you just want to kiss or hug him and pretend none of this ever happened.

“Well, you didn’t fight for me either,” you say, voice cracking at the edges. “You let me walk away.”

“Because you were already out the door,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know what to do. I got scared, you shut down and froze me out. Like I never meant anything.”

“You did mean something,” you whisper. “You still do.”

The silence hangs heavy between you, the air thick with tension and unsaid words. You both want this, even if it hurts.

Then he moves closer to you. You already know what is about to happen.

Your backs slam into the edge of the couch as he kisses you like he’s punishing you for every minute apart. His tongue slides into your mouth like it owns the place. Like it’s been waiting to come home. And maybe it has.

His shirt already sliding off before you even realize your hands are moving, tugging at the fabric like they have a mind of their own. His palms are already sliding beneath your shirt, hot and hungry, like he’s relearning the curve of your skin.

His phone buzzes again. He looks at it this time, then looks at you.

You pull away, bitterness curling on your tongue. You’re over this, over the fights, the not knowing if it’s worth it anymore.

“Get out,” you say.

“Y/N—”

“No. Please just go.”

He grabs the hoodie and holds your gaze for a second too long. Like maybe he wants to say I miss you, or I’m sorry.

But silence wins.

He turns. The door clicks shut.

And suddenly you’re sobbing—hands shaking, chest aching, like the silence he left behind is the only thing you have left. And maybe it is. Because you still want him. God, you still fucking want him.

[thatonegrimm]

Hi! Forgive me if requests are closed, I was a little confused if they’re open or not but may I request Saja boys(separate) x fem(or GN) reader where she does the current boyfriend prank of them?

No worries at all—they’re open! 💌 If requests were closed, I’d have a big “CLOSED” sign somewhere, trust me 😅Thanks so much for the ask—and here you go! ✨

Saja Boys x GN Reader – “Current Boyfriend” Prank

Summary: You’re making a TikTok. You call him, keep your voice casual, and ask: “Hey… what’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

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

🧿 Jinu

He picks up on the second ring, already sounding a little breathless.

“Hey, you okay? Everything alright?”

“Quick question,” you say lightly. “What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

Silence. Heavy. Echoing.

You can practically hear the gears grinding to a halt in his brain.

“Your... current boyfriend?”

His voice drops half an octave. Controlled. Carefully neutral. A dangerous kind of quiet.

“Is this a quiz? Or... a warning?”

“Neither.”

“A spiritual riddle?”

“Nope.”

There’s another long pause.

Then, very calmly:

“...Do I need to open a portal?”

You choke on a laugh. “It’s a prank!”

He exhales like he’d been holding his breath for three realms.

“You scared me,” he mumbles. “I thought I was getting replaced by a newer model.”

“You’re irreplaceable.”

“You didn’t sound like it.”

He sounds betrayed. You feel a little guilty. Only a little.

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

💪 Abby

He answers immediately, all sunshine and loyalty.

“Hey, babe! You need something?”

“Yeah,” you say. “What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

There’s a small pause.

“...Your current what?”

“Boyfriend.”

“As in... me?”

“I think so. I forgot.”

You hear him suck in a breath. Then he starts pacing.

“Okay, wait. Did I mess up? Did we break up? Did I miss a DTR text?? Is this about the fridge again?”

“Abby—”

“I can fix it! I’ll clean the kitchen right now. I’ll burn the kitchen. I’ll make a new kitchen—”

“It’s a prank, love. For TikTok.”

He stops dead.

“Oh.”

“You okay?”

“I was literally Googling how to win someone back mid-call.”

You laugh. He groans.

“I hate how fast I panicked.”

“I don’t. It was cute.”

“Rude.”

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

📚 Mystery

He picks up with faint static in the background. You hear wind, maybe a crow.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” you say sweetly. “What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

Silence.

Not the awkward kind. The ancient evil stirring kind.

“...There is no current.”

His voice is low. Hollow. Like a locked door clicking open.

“What do you mean?”

“There is only me.”

“Mystery, it’s a prank—”

“Who did you ask this before?”

“What?”

“I need names.”

You start laughing nervously.

“Okay, wow. Chill. TikTok challenge. You passed. You’re The Boyfriend™.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

Then a quiet:

“Good.”

You check your phone later. He’s deleted all your contacts except his.

And added three crows to your favorites.

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

💋 Romance

He picks up mid-humming, already smiling.

“Darling! Say the word and I’ll serenade you right now.”

“Okay. What’s my current boyfriend’s name?”

He goes quiet.

Not sad. Not mad.

Scandalized.

“Current?”

“Yeah.”

“As in... I have competition?”

“No, it’s a prank—”

“I knew it,” he mutters. “I felt the shift in the air. My aura’s been off. I sensed betrayal.”

“Romance.”

“I should’ve worn tighter pants today. And a shirt with buttons. I’ve gone soft.”

“ROMANCE.”

“Is it someone I know?”

“It’s YOU.”

“Oh thank GOD,” he gasps. “I was five seconds away from dropping a diss track.”

You roll your eyes. He’s already planning one anyway.

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

🔥 Baby

He picks up like you interrupted something important.

“What.”

“What’s my current boyfriend’s name again?”

Pause.

A long one.

“...Why’d you say ‘current’ like that?”

“No reason.”

“Nah. Say it again. Say it slower.”

“You’re being weird.”

“You’re being dangerous.”

“It’s just a TikTok—”

“So if someone else answered this before me, are they still alive?”

You start laughing.

“Baby—”

“Don’t Baby me. Send location. I’ll bring a lighter.”

“It’s a joke!”

“I don’t share,” he growls. “And I don’t like people playing with my title.”

You go quiet.

Then softly: “Your title?”

“Boyfriend,” he says, dead serious. “Not current. Permanent.”

Your face is on fire.

He hangs up.

Texts you 30 seconds later:

You’re mine. Post it. Let them know.

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

M-List