#not only are they squatting in the walls of my house

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Kidnapped

Lemme just give my baby boi Bucky all the headpats in the world

Summary: You get kidnapped and Bucky has to rescue you

Your head hurts. Badly. And for once it's not because you drank too much the previous night. Lights begin to focus and the muted voices start to become clearer, unveiling the fact that you're currently tied to a chair and the deep cut on your forehead is currently dripping blood into your eyes.

"Look who's awake. About time." One of the masked people yanks your head upwards by your hair and you grunt at the sudden stab of pain.

"Missed me?" You grin, laughter punched out of your system when a fist strikes your stomach hard. Still, you manage to wheeze a laugh out, even as a fist strikes the back of your head hard, causing your vision to spin. "Missed you all too."

"Shut up and tell us where the Winter Soldier is!" The one whom you assume is their leader based on his mask's unique marking grabs your chin, lifting your head so that your gaze meets theirs.

"You want me to shut up or tell you where he is? You've gotta choose one —" You're flung to the side along with your chair, the floor slamming into your already injured side. Blood splatters onto the concrete floor from your coughing and you hear heavy footsteps stomping nearby.

Amateurs. They're terrible at extracting information and it's making you laugh at how pathetic they are. Unfortunately you can't enjoy the show as much as you'd like to because of all the pain you're in but at least there's some show to alleviate it. You focus on your breathing, centering yourself. You have to keep a clear mind, backup will be here soon so all you have to do is buy time. Even without your earpiece, you know that reinforcements will show up at some point. Hopefully before you actually die from your injuries.

You know that Bucky will come storming to your rescue. Probably.

It is rather ironic that your kidnappers only need to continue holding you hostage to find the person they're looking for instead of trying to beat his whereabouts out of you. The pain is getting rather annoying, especially considering how long your injuries will take to heal. This is going to put you out of commission for about a month, and the thought of being stuck in the house for a month is scaring you far more than your kidnappers could ever do.

The floor is rather cold, freezing to the touch really and you would like to not be in contact with the floor, but your kidnappers don't seem to share your sentiment since they keep squatting down to yell at you.

"It's better for your knees if you put my chair upright so you don't have to keep squatting down to talk to me. Also do keep your voice down, I'm not deaf you know." There are times where you curse your witty tongue, this is one of those times.

One moment you're on your side, lying on the floor. The next moment you're sent flying into a wall, the chair nothing but splinters in a pile underneath you. Fingers dig into the soft flesh of your throat, squeezing the air out of your lungs. You kick the air, struggling instinctively and dig your fingernails into the arm as hard as you can. which is not very hard considering how much air and blood you're losing. Black spots begin to crowd your vision and you're about to send an apology to your boyfriend for being the sassy idiot that you are when suddenly your body collapses to the floor, lungs heaving as they gulp down as much oxygen as they possibly can.

Coughing, you massage your throat. The bruises are going to be ugly, and Bucky is probably going to explode upon seeing your injuries. You would feel bad for your kidnappers if it wasn't for the fact that they nearly killed you and ruined your nice little record of not getting kidnapped.

"I will not ask again. Where is the Winter Soldier?" The leader roars, slamming you against the wall.

"You know, it's a bit hard to talk when it's kinda hard to breathe." You hit his arm. "Also, I believe he's right behind you."

A loud thud echoes in the now empty room as a metal fist collides with flesh and the leader crumples to the floor at the feet of a furious super soldier. You lean against the wall, panting as you push your hair out of your eyes, wincing when you accidentally touch the wound on your forehead.

"Took you…long enough." You huff, looking up at Bucky.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to do this if you didn't get captured." He scowls, kicking the leader's now unconscious body.

"Try intentionally walking into an ambush by yourself and let me know if you get out alive." You grit your teeth, using the wall to stand up despite all the ringing in your ears and the blurriness in your vision. Your head is starting to hurt worse, and all the blood you're spilling onto the floor probably isn't helping either.

"Well, you're alive right now aren't you?" Bucky scoops you up. "So don't go dying on me or I'll have to clean up your messes too."

"Don't recall having too many messes for you to clean," you tiredly mumble into his chest. Your eyelids feel heavy, black starting to cloud your vision and you want nothing more than to close your eyes and sleep forever but Bucky keeps jostling you, snapping you awake with every step he takes. "You make a terrible groom, can't even carry your bride properly."

"My bride needs to stay awake or they'll die." He frowns, purposely shaking you. "I mean it."

"Try not to sound like you actually care about me or I might start believing it."

Bucky simply grunts, definitely out of annoyance and continues the way too long walk out of the building, jostling you all the way. Your fingers clutch at his shirt tightly as you take in the sights before you, realising that Bucky had single-handedly fought his way in just to get to you.

"Can't believe you didn't invite me for this party. Seemed fun." You groan.

"Wasn't so fun knowing the only person I can tolerate on missions could die before I reached them." He murmurs, worry sparking in his ice blue eyes.

"Tolerate? Pretty sure I make for better company than that." You weakly poke him in the shoulder, giving him a glare that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"Dream on, doll." The sound of a jet landing drowns out the rest of his words and he carries you inside, laying you out on a stretcher so that the doctor can tend to your wounds. You give him the finger as he turns to leave and he throws one back over his shoulder.

"Don't miss me too much while I'm gone, doll." With that, he disappears into the cockpit and leaves you with the doctor.

"As if I'd miss that bastard," you mutter to yourself, finally closing your eyes and drift off to sleep, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the thought of Bucky fighting his way through the base just to rescue you.

When you wake, you're back somewhere in Avengers Tower, bandages decorating your head and chest. You partially recall this place being the medbay, and judging from the look on Bruce's face your wounds aren't that bad, at least not now.

"Hey," you croak.

"Welcome back," Bruce smiles. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got slammed into a wall multiple times."

"That's not far off. You'll be back in the field in give or take one month, don't worry." He hands you a glass of water which you accept gratefully.

"Where's Bucky?" The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

"Missed me that much, doll?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The brunette walks in with the largest smirk you've seem him make, automatic door sliding close behind him.

"Was asking so I could avoid seeing your ugly mug so soon." You bury yourself back underneath the blanket, ensuring that the fabric covered your face.

"How unfortunate that I chose to walk in now." He takes a seat next to your bed, quietly signalling to Bruce for time alone with you. Bruce nods, slipping out of the room and Bucky lets out a sigh. "Doll?"

You make not a single peep, not even when Bucky pokes you through the blanket so he takes matters into his own hands and yanks the blanket off you. You yelp, hands scrambling to pull the blanket back but the super solider is faster and tosses the blanket onto the table behind him before folding his arms over his chest.

"What?" You scowl, mimicking his actions.

"I didn't know your idiocy had no limits." His brows furrow. "What were you thinking, springing that trap with no escape plan? Were you looking to die?"

"If I was, it was a very unsuccessful attempt." You roll your eyes, turning over so that your back faces him.

"Be honest with me." He turns you over, grip softening when he realises how much he's hurting you but he doesn't let go.

"I wasn't trying to die, okay? But if I did, well…" You look away, hating at how your chest constricts when you see the pain in his eyes. "Would've been fine."

"It wouldn't have been!" He snaps. "It's not fine if you just go off and die!"

"Right," you mutter, playing with the sheets. Tears are beginning to form in the corners of your eyes, and you refuse to let him see your weakness. Biting down hard on your bottom lip, you try to push your emotions down before they can overwhelm you but the tears keep coming anyways. Dammit.

"Doll I —" He takes a deep breath. "I don't want to see you to die, alright? Or at least I don't want to see you die before me."

You lie there in silence, tears still streaming down your face and staining the pillow beneath. Fist clenching, you stifle a sob. Shit, you really don't want to crumble in front of Bucky of all people.

"You…matter. A lot. To me." Bucky forces the words out, but his gaze is soft, and so is his touch. His fingertips gently press against your skin, little spots of warmth amidst the sudden chill that has set in. "So don't go dying on me, alright?"

"Only if you make the same promise." You mumble and his eyes brighten. Giving you a genuine smile, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Deal. Now get all the rest you need, I'll always be here."

"If you're expecting a 'thank you', I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed." You give his cheek a poke.

"You're welcome." He grins, ruffling your hair. He grabs the blanket, tucking you in with it. "Heal up, or I'll have to go on missions by myself and that would be boring."

"Well, can't have a bored super soldier now, can we?" You smile back at him, grabbing his hand. "Hold on."

He huffs in annoyance, but his eyes say otherwise. "Won't be letting go any time soon, doll."

[princessbrunette]

at some point bounty hunter Rafe would let you go cause he feels bad but then two hours later you’re showing up back at the hotel room because you want to suck dick 🤦‍♀️ this would me at least

🐄⋆୨୧⋆⋆˚🎀˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡🎲

he’d screwed up. with his dad, with the money he had, with you — he’d just screwed it all up.

he was midway through a breakdown, having left you alone in the motel room to angrily walk about with his hat low, huffing and puffing out his nose. you jumped when he returned, the door vibrating the walls with the way he slammed it. you thought he might’ve turned the anger round onto you, perhaps deciding that today was the day he would finally lay his hands on you properly. instead, you’re faced with the unexpected. he marches over to you curled by the radiator, squats down and seethes:

“get out.”

you blink, tired from the long day so it took you a second to process things.

“wh—get… out?—”

“get out, alright — don’t make me repeat myself.” with that, he stands back to his full height, gripping your arms as he does and lurching you to stand too, your dress riding up slightly with the movement. your legs nearly don’t support you as he places you back on your feet and you stand infront of him like a lost puppy, blinking rapidly to try and make sense of things. it’s then he’s zipping around, throwing the small amount of your things strewn around the motel room into a little packing case, barely fastening it as he shoves it to your chest, making you stumble. “alright? before i change my god damn mind. get out, go — you wanted freedom? here’s your freedom. out.” he drags you to the door and throws you out like you meant nothing, like you hadn’t been travelling by his side for months now.

you turn around, still unable to speak, clutching your brown leather packing case to your chest with one of your shoes still hanging off your foot a little. you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something to upset him so greatly. really you should be happy — rafe stole you from your land, this is what you wanted right?

digging hurriedly through his back pocket, rafe produces a fistful of notes and grabs your hand, forcing your fingers open to press the money into your clammy palm.

“shit, s’all i got okay? should be enough to get you far from here. i’m done.” he gestures you to run along before disappearing back into the motel and shutting the door. it was all just so… sudden.

truthfully, he felt bad. you didn’t deserve this life. he knew that from the start but now he really understood it. he’d fallen out with his father, who’d lost all interest in having you taken anyway — so it seems rafe’s efforts went under-appreciated. he was getting paid like he should be, because he’d been spending all his money on playing house with you. you had to go, for all reasons above you just… had to.

you silently waddle through the dusty streets, blinking into thin air as your brain wracks all the reasons he could’ve rid of you so abruptly. heading into a diner, you perch awkwardly in a booth for a few hours, sipping at milkshakes and eating fries as you ponder a map that you’d snatched from what had been left at a vacant table. the nearest motel was a fifteen minute walk, you could stay there until you get your bearings.

you don’t make it to the motel, infact — you sit in the diner until it’s dark, the only visitors being the odd lone traveller, making no effort to engage with the world around them, bandanas covering faces and dust kicking inside from their boots. you didn’t feel particularly safe anymore, and in that moment you realised that you hadn’t felt unsafe in a while. infact, you felt the most safe pinned to rafe’s side when he’d drag you about location to location— he made sure not a hair on your head was ever harmed unless from his own roughing up.

lip quivering, you feel conflicted. rafe took you from everything you ever knew, and up until this point you’d lived a comfortable life. but you’d grown attached to him in ways you couldn’t explain. seemingly— you had a choice to make, because you could start to make your way back to where rafe took you from. or…

three knocks sound at rafe’s door, and for some reason — despite there being no one else it could’ve been — he was surprised to see you. you looked dishevelled, lost, tired — still clutching the packing case to your chest as if you’d never moved from the spot he’d left you.

“fuck are you doing back here, huh? didn’t i tell you to leave?” he’d lost that aggression from earlier, now just tired — bordering on exasperated, sad.

you can’t find the words, so you throw your case inside the room and wrap your arms around him, rubbing your cheek into his warmth. he stares down at you, arms by his side.

“i don’t want to go.” you whisper, and with the motel door still wide open, blowing in sandy draft — you sink to your knees, big watery eyes staring up at him. “i wont go.” you reiterate, pressing kisses to his crotch, the one way you knew how to ‘apologise’ because that’s what he taught you.

“kid…”

you didn’t know what you were apologising for, you were just making up for whatever the hell it was that made him throw you out in the first place. you had nowhere to be. nowhere to go. you just wanted to be here, with rafe, making him happy enough to keep you as his like before.

he leans over to shut the door, scoffing in disbelief as you clumsily work at his thick leather belt. you mutter something desperate and slurred but he doesn’t understand you.

“shit i uh… guess it’s true what they say about caged birds. you keep one caged up long enough and it’ll never wanna fly again.”

🐄⋆୨୧⋆⋆˚🎀˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡🎲

[gyuscoquetteribbon]

^᪲᪲᪲ what the world has to offer

SYNOPSIS: you were supposed to be home about thirty minutes ago. mingyu doesn't know why you aren't home yet and all his calls are left unanswered and his texts, delivered, but not read.

PAIRING: mingyu x gn!reader

GENRE: fluff, established relationship

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

notes: this is pretty self indulgent y'all also also omg first written piece that i've posted for the world to see in 4 years???? also im not very satisfied with how i ended this so my bad y'all but hopefully i get to write more in the coming weeks !!

hpr btw

'i'm close by, i'll be there in five mins !!!'

going by your last text, you should've been home about thirty minutes ago. needless to say, mingyu was beyond worried, pacing back and forth in your shared kitchen while he also he kept an eye on the boiling pasta.

'y/n.'

delivered.

'y/n why aren't you answering my calls???'

delivered, yet again.

delivered, but not read.

mingyu's anxiety, which had picked up upon the ten minute mark, only increased as all his texts were left unopened and unanswered.

the pasta had finally come to a boil. as mingyu turns the stove off, a soft tune fills the otherwise empty house.

his phone was ringing.

mingyu goes to pick his phone up, his speed only picking up when he sees your name illuminating on the phone screen. he attends your call, ready to chide you as he adjusts his phone so that you could see his (rather upset) face.

"y/n, why the fuck won't you—"

"i don't think i'm coming home tonight," you cut him off.

mingyu raises an eyebrow. he knew exactly why you were late the moment he saw you sat, leaning against a wall that looked much like the wall of the entrance to your apartment complex.

you angle your phone towards your lap, and there it was. the reason why you weren't home yet.

laying down cozily on your lap was a sleeping cat, pearly white fur with specks of dust and brown spots. if mingyu was right the stray was probably—

"i think he was abandoned," you pull him away from his thoughts, gently swiping your fingers over the cats ear that was cut at the tip, indicating it was spayed either by a rescue team or its previous owner. your free hand goes to cradle its head as it tips back.

a soft smile falls on mingyu's slightly chapped lips, his eyes gazing at his screen with so much love. he leans closer to the camera. "you don't even look at me with this much love," mingyu jokes, causing you to chuckle softly, "i'll bring him something to eat yeah?"

you nod and allow mingyu to cut the call. a shiver runs down your spine while you wait for your boyfriend to come down to join you. it was a particularly chilly evening. as you wait for mingyu, you watch the cat as its body rises and falls in a gentle rhythm. you had placed your woolen scarf over the cat earlier, when it had fallen asleep, afraid that it might be too cold for him. you sit there, wondering how confused the cat must have felt upon being thrown into the streets to fend for itself after being sheltered for so long. you felt sorry. the world is too cruel, you think to yourself.

"hi," mingyu's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you lift your head to look up at your grinning boyfriend, the scarf wrapped around his neck doesn't hide his sharp canines shining under the dim light of the lamppost.

"hi," you whisper back as mingyu squats down across you. with all the sudden commotion, the cat stirs awake, sleep eyes blinking up at the new figure before him. "he's awake," you note, eyeing the cat cautiously, praying that the presence of another person doesn't scare him.

the cat sits up immediately, the scarf draped over his body, slipping onto the ground. its eyes land on the small tin of cat food which mingyu had bought along. good thing mingyu had bought a bunch of those since you have a habit of feeding strays in your area whenever you come across one.

you loved cats. mingyu knew that much. going out on walks with you almost always meant that you'd both would have to stop somewhere in the side of a road because you came across a stray cat. sometimes, you'd stop mid conversation if you see one, rushing towards it, muttering a soft "look! cat!" mingyu doesn't mind, though.

in fact, it was this quality of yours that made him fall so deeply in love with you. despite the pain the world had given you, love was all you ever gave back. that too with a big grin on your face. when you'd run towards a stray cat mid-conversation, you'd miss the fond smile that'd fall on mingyu's lips. when he'd go shop for groceries, you'd miss the absent-minded smile that'd paint his lips when he'd inevitably walk down the aisle containing pet food. when he'd see you sat beside your potted plant, talking for hours about anything and nothing at all while a slow song plays in the background, you'd miss the way he'd look at you, with hearts in his eyes.

they can hear you. it helps them grow better, you had told him.

once again, you had missed the way he was smiling at you. "or so it seems." a puff of air briefly forms in front of mingyu's mouth as a chuckle escapes his lips. the cat jumps out of your lap and approaches the can of food cautiously, almost as if it'd disappear if he'd look away. gently, mingyu pushes it closer towards the cat, assuring that the food is, in fact, for him.

you sit on your knees, your freezing hands falling on your lap as the cat takes his first few bites, his entire face fitting into the can. when he lifts his head, his overgrown whiskers are coated with minced meat. you and mingyu coo softly as the cat looks up at the two of you with his minced meat clad fur and whiskers.

you laugh, your eyes crinkling at the sides. you sounded so beautiful. music that mingyu wishes was only reserved for his ears; for him to listen to and cherish. but alas, the world knows your name.

"you've taken quite a liking towards him," mingyu points out.

you look at your boyfriend, "i wish we could take him home." an unsaid plea.

mingyu laughs softly, reaching forward to gently pat your head, "i'm free tomorrow. i'll pick you up from work and we both can take him to get vaccinated, alright?" he smiles, mirroring your own beaming smile, "i'm sure bopeul would like a friend or two when we go visit my family when i get a break."

"and, i'm sure dollop would love bopeul too," you say.

mingyu raises a brow, "is that what we're naming him?"

"yes."

"dollop it is then," he smiles, reaching down to gently boop its snout.

you miss the way mingyu smiles at you when you aren't looking. but, you never miss the way he loves you. all the little ways he's shown his love. you've never once had to ask for something. he'd know.

maybe this was what the world had to offer for all the love you've given it.

[sacredsorceress]

I have a request! How do you think Matt would be meeting the dog (or pet) of reader/yn? 🥹 It can be romantically or platonic 🤍

If it is not the type of writing, please feel free to ignore this 😌

hi nonnie!! oh matt with pets is so cute!! for the reading pleasure of pet owners, I’ve divided it into cats & dogs.

⋆｡°✩ matt meeting your pets ⋆｡°✩

ask box

CATS

This may be controversial, but I imagine Matt being more of a cat person.

Not only are cats more suitable for his lifestyle (working at least a 9-5 and then spending most of his nights out doing vigilante work doesn’t really leave much time left for giving dogs the attention they deserve), but also just vibes with cats more, you know?

In college, Matt was always the guy who ended up with the cat on his lap at a house party. With his heightened senses, he appreciates their calm and finds their rhythmic purring grounding.

This goes into dating headcanon territory but Matt would be the type of person to meet you at your apartment for your first date. He knows firsthand how dangerous the city can be at night and although you’re an adult, he doesn’t want to put you in harms way for him. It’s his own way of recognizing his care for you before you even begin dating.

The first time he comes by to pick you up, you’d invite him in while you finish getting ready and before Matt even shuts the door behind him, here comes the soft pitter patter of your cat’s paws against the floor.

And yes, he’d smile so wide his eyes would scrunch from his cheeks.

He’d close his cane and squat down to the ground, putting his hand out to lure the cat.

“Psp, psp, psp. C’mon, I don’t bite.”

When the cat’s nose finally brushed his fingers, sniffing his palms before nuzzling its furry head against his palm, Matt felt as though he’d won the jackpot.

But hearing your footsteps emerge from the other room, he’d play it cool.

“I see you two are getting along.” You’d gush, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah,” he’d laugh, scratching the back of your cat’s ears in a way that elicited a delightful purr. “Pets love me, what can I say?”

Sensing your readiness to leave, Matt pushed himself up from the floor and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Ready to go?”

Your cat (who you’d thank later) tangled itself between Matt’s legs, rubbing its head against his ankles.

Matt glanced between you and the feline between his legs but when he heard a soft little meow from below, he was done for.

“How about we do dinner in?”

The next morning when Matt showed up to the office in the same clothes as the day before, Foggy raised his eyebrow.

“Nice date?”

“Oh yeah,” Matt smiled on the way to his office. “I met her cat.”

Scrunching his face in confusion, Foggy peeked his head into Matt’s office.

“Is that a euphemism?”

DOGS

Now just because I imagine Matt as a cat person, does not by any means mean that he doesn’t like dogs. They just have a lot of energy, bark often, and can pounce which can sometimes leave someone like Matt who has heightened senses a built overwhelmed.

The first time you met was actually because of your dog. The leash had managed to escape your grasp and before you knew it, your pup was barreling through the park with you running after it.

Matt , quick as ever, stepped on the leash as your dog ran past, keeping it put.

Remember how Foggy said that Matt had a weird ability to tell if he was talking to a pretty woman? Well, even as you were a few jogs away he could tell you were the kind of woman he wanted to impress.

This led to him kneeling in front of your dog- scratching its ears and patting its back- just in time for you to see.

"Oh my god," you huffed, catching your breath. "Thank you so much! You're a life saver."

"It's no problem." Matt chuckled, grabbing the leash from beneath his heal as he stood.

Grabbing it from his hand, fingers brushing his, you were flushed.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" You asked, composing yourself as you finally realized how attractive your hero was.

"Well, I was just going on lunch." He suggested. "How does a coffee sound?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Lead the way."

The rest of the afternoon was spent learning about each other over (several) cups of coffee as your dog, whose head rested on Matt's shoe, dozed between the two of you underneath the table.

When his self-allotted one hour lunch had long past and the sun that was setting behind the apartment buildings began to cast shadows on Matt's face, you woke your pet with a pat on the side.

"So..." You said, standing with leash in hand. "You'll call me?"

"I'll call you." Matt said with a smile. He squat before your dog, taking its head in his hands and grimaced as it licked his face. "Well... looks like I got a kiss on the first date."

After apologizing profusely and wiping his cheek with your hand, you did end up giving him a real (and much less slobbery) kiss to go home with.

thanks for the request!! this was such a sweet idea: my ask box is always open to chat about our favourite MCU guys <33

[queenxxxsupreme]

At the End of the World

(Cooper Howard x Reader)

A/N: I know absolutely squat about the Fallout universe but I like to think I’ve done my research good enough. This is my first kick at trying a Cooper Howard x reader so I am getting a feel for his character, please be kind :) Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning: nothing outside of canon, little fluffy here and there

Summary: You run into a certain ghoul and the vault dweller he’s taken as hostage.

Side Note: I called the inhaler thing that Cooper uses to keep from going feral a breather cause that sounded better than inhaler in my head??

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her temple into the wall. She licked her lips in an effort to ease the pain she felt. Her lips were so dry they had cracked again and again.

“Better get some shut eye, Vaultie.”

She opened her eyes and looked across the room to the man holding her hostage. Calling him a man was a stretch. He hadn’t been a man for quite some time. Ghoulification had taken over his features long ago, gnarling his skin and turning him into something between man and monster.

Lucy said nothing to him and put her head back against the wall. Part of her wished she had never left the vault. How could people live on the surface? There were no rules, no regulations, not even morals. It was no way to live. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. She knew she needed to sleep, but she wasn’t sure how much she’d be able to get.

Lucy wasn’t able to concentrate on sleep for very long. After what seemed like just seconds, the Ghoul moved. He straightened his hat and pulled a pistol from the holster on his hip. His eyes remained on the window between himself and Lucy.

“What—?”

”Quiet.” He cut Lucy off.

The vault dweller closed her mouth and tried to listen to whatever the Ghoul heard.

“This has to be where they holed up for the night.” A hushed voice spoke.

”You sure it was a vault dweller, Dart?”

”Positive. You know how much we could get for one of those if we find the right buyer?”

The Ghoul stood to his feet. The wall they were behind was the only bit of building left from what had once been a house. There wasn’t even a roof or another wall, just the piece that Lucy and the Ghoul were hiding behind.

“Looky here, fellas.” A voice came from behind the Ghoul. The sound of a hammer clicking on a pistol made him roll his eyes. “Turn around slow, buddy.”

”You fellas are askin’ for trouble.” The Ghoul warned.

“Drop the gun. Don’t want to hurt you, just want the vaultie.”

The Ghoul let his pistol fall to the dirt floor as he turned to face the unwelcomed guests. The guests consisted of three men and a woman.

“Say, you think we could get anything for a ghoul too?” The woman whispered to the man closest to her.

“It’s far too late in the night for y’all to cause a ruckus.” The Ghoul spoke. “Why don’t you turn around and go back the way you came before one of yous gets hurt?”

One of the men chuckled and shook his head.

“Ain’t no way we’re leaving without her.” He gestured to Lucy with the end of his sawed off shotgun.

Without any warning, a gun was fired once, twice, then three times. The Ghoul watched as all three raiders fell to the ground, blood pouring out of head wounds. His eyes flickered around, seeking out where the shots had come from. He couldn’t see a damn thing in the pitch black night.

Then there was a whistle. It was low and steady, lasting a couple seconds before a second whistle followed.

Lucy’s eyes were wide with panic as she strained to see where the noise came from. She searched the darkness, eyes flighting back and forth. The Ghoul didn’t seem nearly as panicked. In fact, he almost looked confused.

The wind shifted and blew a breeze directly towards him, carrying a familiar scent with it.

“What-What is that?” Lucy croaked. Her throat was so dry that her voice was raspy.

The Ghoul picked up his gun that he had dropped earlier on the ground. He brushed the dirt from it as a grin appeared on his lips.

“Oh that? That ain’t nothin’ but a little ol’ mouse.”

”Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” A soft and sweet voice came from the darkness.

Lucy watched as you moved into her line of sight. You appeared to be human, dressed in black cargo style pants tucked into worn dark brown boots. You wore a dark gray sweatshirt that was tattered around the hem and a brown jacket overtop of the sweatshirt. A dark green scarf wrapped loosely around your neck.

“Haven’t seen you for a while.” The Ghoul spoke, his eyes focused on you.

”Could say the same for you.” Your gaze found Lucy. She offered you a quick and friendly smile, but the sight of your left eye caught the poor girl off guard. It was glowing in the darkness, letting off an electric blue light. “Making new friends, Coop?”

”Ah, you know me. Always looking for a new friend.” The Ghoul’s tone was friendly and light. Lucy had never heard him sound anything close to nice.

You smiled just a little, shaking your head gently as you took a few more steps towards the two.

“Miss? Uh, m-miss?” Lucy tried to move towards you but the sound of the Ghoul pulling the hammer on his pistol back stopped her.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Vaultie. Sit your ass back down.” He gave a stiff nod to the ground where she had been sitting moments ago.

You kept your eyes on Lucy as she returned to her seat. Her eyes found yours again and you had to look away in order to avoid feeling bad for her. The Ghoul sat down and you took the spot right next to him, shrugging your backpack off of your shoulders and placing it between your legs.

“What happened with Dom Pedro?”

”Ain’t important.” He muttered with a shake of his head. You unzipped your backpack and pulled out a canteen.

“What’s your name, girl?”

”Lu-Lucy. My name is— My name is Lucy.” She stammered, pausing to lick her dry lips. “What’s your name?”

You leaned forward to pass her the canteen. She needed it far more than you did.

“Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!” Lucy hastily opened the canteen and began to drink from it rather hastily.

“Friends call me Icy.” You answered her question. “Seems to be what I go by anymore.”

A raspy cough from the Ghoul made you snap your head in his direction. He tried to stifle the cough but it was no use. You had already heard.

“Where’s your breather?”

”Don’t got— Don’t got any vials.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aint’ no use to me.”

”Where are all your vials at?” You knew him too well. There was no way he’d let himself run out. You pulled your backpack closer to you and began to dig around inside hastily.

”Lost them in a tussle with the Vaultie.”

For a brief second, your eyes flickered up to Lucy. You decided then and there that if Cooper turned, you’d kill her yourself.

“You know, I could kick your ass for being so careless, old man.”

”Suppose you could.” He chuckled but it was cut short by another dry cough. “Wouldn’t- Wouldn’t do you any good, but it sure as hell would make for a good time.”

”Well given your current state, sweetheart, I think the odds would be in my favor.” You pulled out the sachet with vials and handed them to the ghoul. He took it from you, your fingers brushing momentarily but just enough to have your heart beating a little quicker.

“Thank ya, doll.” He murmured quietly. You offered him a smile, watching as he put the vial in his breather and took a hit.

“You two are…. Are you close?” Lucy asked. You turned your attention to her, tilting your head to the side just a bit. She tried to smile, to show that she was trying to be friendly.

“Lucy, was it?”

”Yes.” She nodded her head.

“Those kind of questions, Lucy, get you a bullet in your gut out here.”

The smile fell from her broken lips and her brows drew together in confusion.

“I-I wasn’t– I didn’t mean it– It was more just an observation.”

You turned your head to Cooper. He tucked the breather into his jacket and then his eyes found you.

“Heard you came into some trouble a few months back.”

“Just got into it with a group of raiders back outside of Targon.” You leaned back against the metal junk he was leaning against. “Just the same old bullshit. Wanted my eye.”

He stayed quiet. He wished he had found you sooner.

“You need to get some sleep.” You leaned over to push your shoulder against his.

Cooper tilted his head down, the brim of his hat covering his eyes.

“Ain’t sleepin’ tonight, doll.”

“When was the last time you slept? You look exhausted.” You reached over to put your hand on his. “You need to sleep, Cooper.”

He held your gaze for a few heartbeats, losing himself in your eyes. He had been worried about you since he crawled out of the grave Dom Pedro had kept him in. He was worried he’d never be able to find you, that perhaps you would be dead when he did get to you.

The ghoul pulled himself out of his own thoughts and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say, boss. Don’t let the Vaultie get too friendly.”

You smiled a little.

“Now you know that isn’t me, darling. I don’t let anyone get too friendly.”

“You let me get a little too friendly, if I remember correctly.”

“Shut your mouth, old man.” You smiled up at him. His grin you adored so much was covered up by the brim of his hat as he pulled it down.

You turned your attention to the girl that sat across from you.

“How long have you been upside?”

“Um, I-I don’t know for sure. A few weeks, I think.” She took another sip of water and then scooted a little closer to you so that she could hand the canteen back to you.

“Keep it.” You shook your head.

“Thank you.” She murmured quietly as she settled back into her spot. “Where, um, are you from?”

“Everywhere and nowhere all at once.” You let out a soft breath. “When you live for as long as I have, you don’t keep track of that sort of thing.”

“How…. How long have you been alive?”

“Long enough to know you don’t belong up here, Lucy.”

She held your gaze, almost too afraid to look away.

“I-I have to find my dad. He got taken by-by these raiders. They took him and I have to find him.”

You nodded gently. Lucy looked to the Ghoul, trying to figure out if he was asleep yet. After a couple moments of silence between you and Lucy, she could hear what sounded like gentle snoring.

“Icy, I need to find my dad. Please, you have to let me go.” She whispered.

“Quiet down, girl.” You stood to your feet, adjusting the holster that hung around your hips. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Where are you going?”

“Keep watch.”

***

Hours later, the blistering sun was just beginning its task of boiling the earth as it came up from the horizon.

You had been lost in thought, eyes gazing ahead at the sunrise. Your left eye, the cybernetic eye, kept track of the time, the rate the sun was rising, the temperature, and how fast the wind was going.

“Mornin’, pretty girl.”

You looked over your shoulder to see Cooper walking towards you.

“You slept good.” You commented, taking a sip of water. He had snored last night louder than you ever heard before.

“Easy to do when you’re around.” Cooper came to stand beside you, one hand finding the small of your back. “You know, I was– uh– I was worried bout you.”

“Same could be said for me to you.” Your eyes flickered across the baron land before you. There was nothing to see for miles and miles except dirt and remnants of destroyed buildings casting long shadows in the early morning light. “I’d heard whispers thrown around about what Dom Pedro was doing to you. When I get my hands on him–,”

“I don’t want you gettin’ anywhere near him, Icy Mae.”

You clenched your teeth together. Fiery anger swirled in your gut. Cooper’s hand on your back moved just slightly, rubbing your back in an effort to comfort you.

“No need in grinding those little teeth, doll.”

“I’ve spent three years trying to find you.”

“I know.”

“I want to kill him for what he’s done to you.”

Cooper let out a sigh.

“Lemme see those pretty eyes, doll.”

You turned your head away from him even more. You didn’t want him to see the tears that festered in your right eye.

“Look at me, Icy.”

You took in a breath through your nose before begrudgingly turning to face the ghoul. His fingertips found your jaw, tracing the soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. Blue eyes followed his fingertips as he brushed away the stray tear that slipped down your cheek.

“I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I got to you. So many people I talked to said that you had died.”

“You know ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me from you, doll. Not even death.” He was trying to use his voice to make you feel better. Sometimes you felt that all he had to do was say your name in that raspy drawl of his and everything would be cured.

“Stop trying to charm me, old man.”

“Oh, I ain’t tryin’ to do anything, darling.”

You turned your head away from him, trying to focus on anything else. But he took your chin in his hand, gently turning your head back to him. you had no choice but to look up into his eyes.

“Missed you, woman.” He spoke in a hushed whisper. You couldn’t stay angry with him looking at you. It was rare to see those stern eyes so bright. A smile snuck its way onto your lips. You turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand.

“Distracting me, old man, won’t make me change my mind.”

“He ain’t worth your trouble, doll.” His hand left your face and even though it was hot outside, you found yourself missing the warmth of his touch. He placed his hand on your side, drawing your body a little closer to his.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw something move. You turned your head, disappointed to see Lucy moving towards you and Cooper.

The ghoul sighed as he removed his hand from your side and adjusted his hat, pulling it down just enough so the brim covered his eyes. You turned to face the vault dweller.

“Good morning, Lucy.”

”Good morning.” She smiled lightly. She looked from you to Cooper, unsure of which of you to look at.

“We should leave.” Your words weren’t really meant for her, but instead for the large figure that stood so close behind you.

“Yeah, yeah.” Cooper grumbled. ”Let’s get this show on the road.”

***

A couple hours later, you all walked in a poor excuse of a line. Lucy led the way with you followed just shortly behind her and the Ghoul behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. Cooper kept his right hand on the handle of the gun holster on his hip. He gave you a light nod of his head, to which you smiled.

Lucy slowed down just a little to be able to walk alongside you.

“I just—,”

”Keep moving, Vaultie.” Cooper spoke up from behind you.

“Give her a second, darling.” You looked over your shoulder to flash him a toothy smile.

“Thank you.”

You looked at Lucy out of the corner of your right eye.

“For what?”

”For being so nice to me. Giving me water and-and talking to me.”

You said nothing to her.

”Can I ask you a question?”

”Depends on the question.”

”Is Icy your real name? The name you were born with?”

You almost laughed at her.

“Hardly. Icy is just a nickname I got through the years. Comes from my eye.” You tapped your left temple. You cybernetic eye was a bright blue almost icy color.

“What’s your real name?”

”Why does it matter what my real name is?” You glanced over to her.

”It-It doesn’t. I was just curious.”

”Curiosity will get you killed up here, girly. People don’t think it’s too kind and friendly to be asking all sorts of questions.”

“I-I’m– Okay.” Lucy pressed her lips into a tight line. It was so hard just to make conversation with people from the surface.

You slowed down just a bit so that Lucy would keep walking ahead of you.

“Told you not to be friendly with her.” Cooper bumped your shoulder with his. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not being friendly. Just trying to make conversation ‘cause I know you aren’t gonna be. What are you doing with her anyways?”

“Originally, I was gonna sell her for more vials. But now that you’re here, plans have changed a bit.” Cooper paused. “She’s a MacLean.”

You turned your head to Cooper, brows furrowing together. Without meaning to, you stopped walking.

“A what?”

“You heard me.”

“How?”

“She’s the daughter of Hank MacLean.”

Your fingers curled into fists by your sides. The very mention of Hank MacLean made your blood boil. The mention of anyone from Vault-Tec was enough to get you angry and ready to start fighting.

“What are we going to do with her?” You found yourself glaring at Lucy as she continued to walk, unaware that the both of you had stopped.

Cooper glanced over to you, adjusting the shotgun he held over his shoulder.

“Use her to get to her daddy.”

“They’ve ruined so many lives, Cooper. Vault-Tec has.”

“Oh, I know, darling.” He started walking again.

The anger in your stomach started to form into something else, into grief. There she was, Hank MacLean’s daughter, walking just ahead of you. Vault-Tec had ended so many lives, broken up so many families. Why did he get to have a family? Why did he get to see his daughter grow up?

Cooper stopped when he noticed you weren’t following him. He glanced back at you, taking note of your left hand that gripped the gun on your hip.

“Come on, Icy Mae.” He called for you. “Ain’t no use gettin’ worked up.”

Lucy stopped upon hearing the Ghoul say your name. She turned back to look at you. Your eyes met hers and you saw her furrow her brows together in confusion. Why did you look so upset, so angry?

“Don’t tell me how to be, Cooper.”

“I ain’t tellin’ you how to be, woman. Just telling you gettin’ mad ain’t gonna do nobody any good.”

“Is something wrong?” Lucy asked.

Your eyes left the girl to find Cooper.

“It isn’t fair, Coop.” You whispered, but he heard you just fine. He said nothing as he held your gaze. “Just isn’t fair.” You took your hand off of the gun and started walking again.

***

The day seemed to drag on for an eternity. No one had spoken very much. Everyone was tired and doing their best to make their energy last.

As the sun went away, camp was made on the outskirts of what used to be a town. The three of you took refuge inside of what appeared to be some kind of overturned bus. A battery powered lamp was on and sat in the middle of the bus, providing the otherwise pitch black night with a tiny source of light.

Lucy sat down against the roof of the bus, moving her hands around in an attempt to get comfortable with the rope around her wrist. You moved towards her, pulling a knife from its holster on your lower back.

”What are you doin’, woman?”

”Yeah, what are you doing?” Lucy shifted in her spot, eyes sticking to the knife you held. She tried to move away, pushing herself backwards. “Hey! Hey—!”

”Quiet down.” You muttered, kneeling down to cut away the rope.

“Oh.” Lucy watched the rope fall away then she rubbed her wrists. “Th-Thank you.”

“Icy, what the hell?”

”May as well let her get comfortable for the night.” You tucked the knife back into the sheath on your back. ”And she can’t go no where. We’re surrounded by nothing. She‘ll die from the elements before she gets far.”

Cooper sighed, putting his hands on his hips. You shrugged off your backpack and placed it down next to his bag. You sat down, adjusting your backpack before leaning against it.

“I’m gonna go have a look around.” He told you. “See if we’re alone out here.”

”Be careful.”

The ghoul gave you a nod, then turned towards Lucy.

“You try anything funny, Vaultie, and I won’t hesitate to skin you alive.”

“I-I won’t. I promise.”

You watched as Cooper slipped out of the overturned bus and disappeared into the night.

Once he was completely gone, you leaned forward to start taking off some of your layers. With the sun down, you didn’t have to worry about its harsh rays.

Lucy watched as you took off the jacket and placed it aside, then pulled the sweatshirt off of your head and added it to the jacket. You were left in a thin tank top that appeared to be a dark shade of brown. The gloves you wore came up to your elbows. You tugged each one off, setting them aside. With all the layers off, Lucy could now see the scars that covered your arms. They were darker than the rest of your skin and seemed to go in a gnarled and twisted pattern from the backs of your hands up to your shoulders.

You looked up, feeling eyes on you. The girl was watching you, her gaze curious but horrified all at once.

“I-I’m sorry.” She stuttered out. “What, um, what happened to you?”

”Got caught in a fire a few years back.” You rubbed your left arm, then started to rub the right one.

”Is that what happened to your eye?”

You stopped moving, her question catching you off guard.

You reached behind you into one of the side pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Then you settled back against the backpack, bringing your eyes up to meet hers.

Your cybernetic eye read her vitals and told you that she was nervous. A slightly elevated heart rate and increased breathing.

”No.” You put the cigarette between your lips then pulled a lighter from a pocket on your pants. “My eye was taken from me at the start of the war.”

”Oh.” She was quiet for a few heartbeats, looking away from you. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”

”Vault-Tec.”

Your answer seemed to surprise her. She drew her eyebrows together.

”Vault-Tec?”

“It’s a long story, girly.” Your face lit up a little as you lit the cigarette.

”Well…. We’ve got time.”

”That we do.” You sunk down a little more to get comfortable.

Lucy could tell you didn’t really want to talk about your eye or Vault-Tec or your scars anymore. She looked down at her hands, rubbing her wrists just a little more before she let out a soft breath.

“How do you know him? That guy?”

”Known him for a while.” You turned your attention to the black sky. ”Ran into each other ages ago. We’d go our separate ways no and again but somehow…. Somehow we always run into each other.”

If the man in question hadn’t been so mean and callous, perhaps Lucy would have smiled.

“But how can you…. How can you be with someone like that? Someone who-who is okay with so much murder and so much cruelty?”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, debating on what to say next. Lucy thought perhaps you were ignoring her, but then you slowly sat up. You crossed your legs and leaned forward with your elbows on your knees.

“I used to have a daughter.” Your voice was hushed, eyes cast down to the flashlight providing a little bit of light. You took a deep inhale of the cigarette. In the same moment that you breathed out a cloud of smoke, you continued to talk. “Used to have a husband too. He was a good man. He’d move heaven and earth for me and my girl.”

You paused to see if Lucy would say anything. When she remained silent, you carried on.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Miss MacLean. You’ve only ever known comfort your whole life. You don’t know what people have had to endure up here…. what good people have had to do…. in order to survive.”

Lucy looked away, unable to hold your gaze any longer.

“There are no rules up here, no guidelines, no sense of ethics. If you want to survive, you have to do things you wouldn’t normally do. Good men do bad things to make sure they survive.”

Lucy directed her eyes downward. You flicked the cigarette ashes down onto the ground beside you.

“I’m-I’m sorry about your family.”

Your gaze was drawn to the girl once more.

“About everything you’ve been through.”

A whistle made both of you turn your heads. Lucy almost started to panic, but you shook your head gently.

”It’s just Cooper.” You took another puff from the cigarette. A few moments of silence passed before the Ghoul was making his way back into the overturned bus. “Find anything?” You sat up and offered him the cigarette.

“Nah, there’s nothin’ here but us and dirt.” He sat down next to you, settling with sitting up while you stayed hunkered down with your head on the backpack.

Lucy moved around a bit to get herself comfortable, choosing to lay on her side with her arm under her head as she faced the light.

”It’s your turn to get some sleep, woman.”

You turned your head to look up at Cooper.

“Don’t know if I’m gonna be able to sleep much, darling.” You took the cigarette back from him and puffed on it a little bit.

“You should try.”

You hummed but said nothing more.

After a few minutes, Lucy fell asleep, giving you and the ghoul next to you the smallest bits of privacy.

Neither of you said anything for a long time. You passed the cigarette back and forth until it was finished up by Cooper.

You scooted closer to him, trying to get as deep into his side as you could. He lifted his arm until you were comfortable, then he put his arm down around you, his hand resting on your shoulder.

”I haven’t been able to stop thinking about killing her all day, Cooper.” You murmured.

“Oh, yeah?”

”I want to take her head to her father.”

He looked down at you, unsure if what he had heard was what you said.

”He shouldn’t get to have a family. No one at Vault-Tec should.”

”You’re gonna get yourself all worked up, doll. Best not go down that rabbit hole tonight.”

You took a deep breath, reaching your hand up to hold on to his fingers.

”I don’t want to feel that way, Coop. I don’t want to hurt her.”

”Hush now.” Cooper leaned down to kiss your head. “Get some sleep, Icy Mae.”

[whitehotwild]

took a peek at amazon music’s The Boys character playlists (really just Butcher’s and Hughie’s… womp womp)… ohhhh old man Butcher my beloved.

all i can imagine is being at Butcher’s apartment for one reason or another.

☆ maybe the team went out to a bar together, and as everyone turned in for the night, saying their goodbyes, you and butcher were the last ones there. For whatever reason, he refuses to send you off by yourself to your own apartment this late at night and tells you to just come over and spend the night at his, that it’s closer anyway.

you try to ignore the zip up your spine when he leads you into his apartment with a hand on the small of your back. you try to ignore the soft flush of your cheeks when he teases you about snooping while you look through his one (barely filled) bookcase.

“what? you scared I’m gonna find your fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you tease right back, squatting down to flip through the vinyl records he has sitting in a milk crate next to the bookcase.

butcher rolls his eyes with a smirk, “mine ain’t fuzzy… d’you even know what those things are?”

you don’t react, but you do store that in the folder labeled ‘Useful Butcher Information’ that lives in your brain. ignoring his teasing, you let out a soft huff of laughter when you see a record you’ve only seen at your grandparent's house and in the back of a shitty thrift shop uptown.

“exactly how old are you?” you ask, pulling it out and showing him the record in question: Roy Orbison Sings Lonely and Blue (1961).

butcher walks over and takes the record from your hand, switching it for his beer. he had asked you if you wanted one when you two walked through his door, you had declined before, but have taken to stealing sips of his. it’s probably the closest you’ll get to kissing him tonight.

“old enough to know this is real music… not that Taylor Swift shite you force me to listen to in the car.” he snarks, slipping the record out of the sleeve, setting it on his cheap turntable.

you stand back up straight with a scoff, “you can make fun of my ‘brat summer’, but Miss Swift is where I draw the line.” the beginning of the record starts to ring softly through the room…

‘Only the lonely… (dum-dum-dum-dumby-doo-wah)’

“oh… you can’t be serious,” you smile softly and he holds a hand up as if telling you to ‘wait for it’. “…so corny,” you mutter shaking your head, still with that same smile.

butcher takes the beer bottle out of your hand, taking a sip before setting it on one of the shelves, “nope… classic.”

he lets himself be a bit softer around you, even if only for a moment. it’s only when you two are alone, usually late at night, usually after a few drinks that he lets the walls drop… only just a bit.

like now, when he pulls you into the empty space of his living room, placing your hand, the one that isn’t wrapped in his, on his shoulder, his free hand goes to the small of your back.

“so now you wanna dance?” you ask with a bit of snark.

butcher lets out a soft huff of amusement as you two start swaying, “what you lot was doin’ at the bar wasn’t dancin’… you was flailing about.”

“hm… whatever. least we were having fun, i mean… even M.M. got up!”

“‘cause he’s a sucker for ‘Earth, Wind & Fire’.”

“well yeah… who isn’t?”

“me.”

you roll your eyes with a soft sigh, “suuure… stick in the mud.”

you’re both quiet after that, only the sound of old music coming through shitty speakers and gentle steps against his floor fill the room. he dances you through the whole a-side of the album, the hand on your back has snaked around your waist, your head rests against his shoulder, and he holds your intertwined hands closer to his chest.

you take as much of this as you can get from him, knowing these moments are fleeting. there are so many unspoken words between the two of you, you’re too stubborn to make a move, and well… butcher’s too… butcher. he thinks he’s much too undeserving of something as precious as you.

and maybe he’s right. maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you, it doesn’t stop you wanting him. so for now… the soft, fleeting, moments are enough.

it’s always strange when those moments end, though. the way you can see his demeanor shift in an instant.

like now, the music stops and he looks away from you when you look up at him. you can see the way his face changes, like he’s snapping out of a trance or he’s caught himself doing something he knows shouldn’t.

butcher pulls away from you, wiping his hands on his pants as if the feeling of you lingering on his skin has to go. he turns to put the record away and turn off the turntable.

the silence lingers for a minute before he speaks up, “think we should turn in. you take my bed.”

you try to protest, “the couch-“

“don’t fight me on it.” the command isn’t harsh, it’s not mean, it’s only a bit stern, but he just wants you to listen to him.

he just wants to do something nice for you.

you nod with a quiet sigh and thank him with a soft smile. you both retire for the night and you both know you’ll be gone in the morning before he wakes up. you both know you won’t make any mention of it when you're both in the office tomorrow.

but you both know that for now, the fact that it happened at all is enough.

(divider by @/plutism)

[n3ptoonz]

'A Burning Memory'

Pairing: WinterSoldier!Bucky/F!Reader

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings/tags: Smut, Explicit/NSFW; pre CA:TWS, not happy ending, slight(?) angst, plot heavy, reader is a black widow, mild fighting, riding, kissing, they have history, reader calls him james - there is a reason why, reader can speak russian, SHE/HER USED, sub!bucky, think of this as canon divergence, partially inspired by the book! half proofread, yes this is also inspired by the song, "i love you" and "I'm sorry" in the same fic, i feel evil, indigo plays way too much rivals

Word count: 2k

italicized text in quotations means Russian is being spoken. bold italicized means flashback

‣︎‣︎if you recognize the beginning from a cai bot, that is because it is my bot. anyway, onward!

You left him.

Well, no. You escaped. You escaped all the torment and destruction to your body. You were over the experiments and lashings. The bright lights. The harsh conditions of training. The force of submission. You were done. However, the 'mindless' soldier didn't see it that way.

He was sent out to find and capture you, kill if necessary. One could say he's half in, half out. They told him you're a traitor and ran out on him for your own personal gain and he believed it. Part in mission, part personally. But you've been strategically hiding for months--not knowing you were hiding from him. You figured they'd send HYDRA agents and keep working on him. You hadn't a clue who he really was, nor were you so sure of your own identity, but you never thought the time you spent going on those assassin duo missions would stick to him.

You're squatting in an empty house not abandoned too long ago. It was night and you could already barely sleep, lying awake on the stolen blankets while using your own jacket for cover. You sighed frustratedly and went to go grab a bottled water from the pantry when you feel a cold, metal hand cover your mouth and a gun click, poking your rib.

"Remember me?"

Being the only one qualified to keep up with the Winter Soldier was only a curse. There were no blessings. Okay, maybe there was one. That one...no, three times you two "protected each other" whenever the signal would go out on your earpieces. Otherwise known as, nobody was there to watch your every move. Couldn't hear what you were saying... nothing. You know, the cliche of being in small, dark spaces with someone and you just so happen to brush up against a spot that was sensitive enough to get a reaction out of him of all people.

The supposed armed and dangerous man, most feared assassin the world...let you take his mask off for the first time.

"Turn around." he said, now poking the gun into your back. His accent has gotten thicker since you'd last seen him, which only meant one thing: they definitely wiped his memory again. You managed to swipe his files alongside yours before you got outta there. He's American, but he didn't know that. He still spoke Russian like it was nobody's business.

You obeyed and slowly turned around, dropping the water bottle as you watched his every move. It made you...sad to see him like this.

"I remember you." you said with a neutral tone. "I'm not going to fight you."

He didn't like that. All his enemies are supposed to fight back. There's no such thing as surrender. No hostages. Only pain. He put the gun down but his left hand--the metal one--reached out and grabbed you by the throat, pushing you harshly against a nearby wall. It was dark in the house, but you could still see the void pool in his steel blue eyes.

"Like hell you won't." he said. His jaw clenched behind his mask, but why? Why was he genuinely so pissed? Why hasn't he just knocked you out and taken you with him by now?

You gasped for air as you tried to stay alert and awake. "You need to- remember-" you strained and weakly kicked his padded torso to no avail. He grunted and squeezed harder, but then was caught all the way off guard when you punched him in the middle of his forehead. This made his grip loosen slightly, allowing you leeway to bring your legs up onto his arm and flip him over on his side.

When you landed on the floor next to him, clutching your chest as you regained consciousness, you realized you might have to either A) run as far as possible now or B) try to get through to him. Which is less impossible? Which would hurt less?

He grunted as he went to sit up. You rolled over before he could be within grabbing distance.

"I'm not going to fight you." you repeated as you stood to your feet with your hands up. You watched him get up as quickly as he fell before charging at you. You cursed as you realized you're going to have to, in fact, fight him. It's not like you weren't prepared. You're Red Room. He's HYDRA. It was tango only you two could dance.

It didn't last very long before he had you in a headlock with that same metal arm. You couldn't afford to almost lose consciousness again because this time you'd actually get to dreamland a whole lot faster. So, on impulse, you reached up and snatched his mask off.

"It's just me," she whispered, slowly removing his mask while he let her. He's already seen her full face but it's like she got...prettier.

He let go of you and stumbled backwards, feeling his face, cringing at the cool air hitting it. He stared at you, dumbfounded, nobody has ever tried that before.

They share a kiss. A short and sweet one. Her lips were so soft, so real. So perfect. She's seen me without my mask and didn't run away. She's not afraid of me like the others. She's-

"Who are you?" he muttered. His eyes darting between you and the mask in your hand.

"It's me." you whispered. "I'm not a threat to you, James." you added and slowly set the mask down. You slowly walked towards him and this time he didn't move, didn't make any effort to push you back or fight you again.

He remembers drinking in her quiet, precious moans as they kissed again. She was a drug. Something suddenly worth risking the entire mission for. His life. The consequences of getting too close to, well, anybody. He's a soldier. The perfect soldier who let some woman distract him, but damn it all.

He remembers what it felt like to drag his flesh hand along her leather clad hips. Her ass and thighs, her breasts-

"James," you stood directly in front of him with your hands still up. "You know me. You know it's me."

God, she smelled so good too. Her skin was warm and welcoming, as opposed to literally everybody else who poked and prodded at him under harsh lights and cold rooms. The first and only time anybody had power over him that was wanted, not forced.

He flinched when you grabbed his hand, his eyes shooting daggers at yours as his entire body tensed. But then he looked at you again, under the moonlight that bounced off the walls and into your facial features. Your soft lips and pretty eyes. Those casual clothes that vaguely reminded him of how you looked with nothing on. He uttered your name quietly, more for himself than you.

"Yes," you replied with a smile and a nod. "And your real name is James. Many called you 'Bucky'."

And it was all a flash. His brows furrowed as his brain suddenly fogged. That name...that damn name...why does it affect him like his. He took one good look at you. The way you looked up at him desperately, yet determinedly was like the last time you saw each other.

The signal had gone out once again-

Fuck it.

He grabbed your face and kissed you like no other. It was hungry. It was sad. It was hurt. It was happy. It was...

"Perfect," he muttered against your lips. There was no time to process what just occurred when he pulled you with him, sitting on the couch and clutched your hand in his. It was like he was unsure of himself, but you got the hint. He remembered.

He remembered the last mission. You let go of his hand and started stripping yourself half naked. He watched like a man who'd never seen anything like this before. His head tilted the second you loomed over him and undid his pants, just enough to tug down past his thighs.

That mission had to be the most risky, as there were foes on all sides that had no clue you two were there. This time was different. You technically had all the time in the world. Or at the very least all night.

You normally would entertain the idea of foreplay and all the jazz but truly, it looked like he was about to implode if you didn't start bouncing on it right this second. He uttered your name again, the rest of it dying in his throat when you sank down in his lap. You shushed him as you adjusted, wanting him to savor it and not get overwhelmed. He was still very vulnerable in this state. He had to know you had no intention of taking advantage of him like everybody else.

You set a slow pace, holding his gaze and cupping his jaw like he was a delicate flower. He looked at you like you were an angel before you kissed him gently, letting your fingers run through his hair. You felt his arms creep around your waist to hold you close, to which you didn't mind. He groaned softly and relished in everything coming back to him.

It didn't go as far back as pre-serum, but he could recall your chemistry and how well you worked together. What it felt like to be inside you for the first time. To come a little too close to cumming inside you for the first time. He needed that feeling again, again, and again.

"I missed you," you said softly and rolled your hips. You could feel his grip tightening on them as you both knew he had full jurisdiction to pick you up and finish the job himself. But he didn't want to. Not with you. "A lot."

You picked up the pace and let your face nuzzle on his shoulder, unbothered by the tactical gear that should've for sure had you shaking in your boots. That and the unmistakable musky scent that belonged to him.

He grunted in response to both your words and this new pace. Your silky walls weren't shy in welcoming him home. He could feel your soft curves molding to his hard body, your body fitting perfectly against his own.

This was wrong. Going against his mission. The Winter Soldier never failed a mission and he'd just been compromised by the target. By his mission.

But who cares? This was Bucky. Bucky was utterly in love with you, even if you just met this year. He could feel himself getting closer and closer, desperate to take you with him. He could hear you panting against his ear and whining pathetically. Just what Bucky wanted. Just what Bucky needed.

"Please, come with me," he silently pleaded. Whether it meant literally now or joining him in completely abandoning his mission, that was ultimately out the window as he crashed. Bucky had the mind to pull you up as you came too, watching both of you make a mess in awe and satisfaction.

You trembled in his hold, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. "I'm so sorry I left you." you whispered. "I love you so much." you added and collapsed back into his lap, holding him tightly.

And suddenly his grip around you got weaker, more limp. Your eyes widened when you felt his hands fall to his sides on the couch. The light in eyes was gone and his pupils were dilated.

"James," you shook him, holding his face in panic as he didn't respond at all. "James!"

You rolled off of him and quickly stuffed him back into his pants before throwing on the rest of your clothes. He was gone; passed out. When you heard faint noises of people outside, you cursed under your breath and looked for an exit. Your heart ached at the sight of him clearly deactivated in some way.

You'll never know if he heard your sorry or your confession as you crawled through the fire escape. The mask being put back in his lap to maybe signal that you were here, with him. Yet all it did was prove he failed. And that's all he'll know. Everything else might as well have fallen on deaf ears.

Because now, it's just a burning memory.

[miserycanary]

PLEASE PAINT OVER MY BRUISES ᡣ𐭩

synopsis: pairing: early 30s!Ghost & 20s!reader (can be read as platonic)

synopsis: Ghost as your refuge from your abusive father

tags: angst, verbal abuse, physical abuse, hurt/comfort

| The first meeting was a coincidence. 

Shivering from the midnight breeze, you huddled your flimsy sweater close with one hand out to hold your cigarette. One inhale of nicotine got you throwing your head back, forgetting the situation back home that led you to wander the streets at midnight. Busy peering up at the stars in the sky, you didn't notice someone's presence there until you felt your cigarette pulled from your lips and stomped on the ground. 

"Dude! Not cool. That was my last," you angrily mumbled, squatting down to see if you could still use it. "Leave it." The voice took you by surprise, tilting your head up to see a hunk of a man, carrying some beers, looking down on you. You took notice of the calloused hand gripping the paper bag, meaning he was probably a lot older than you. Say early 30s? "Easy for you to say," a retort you throw at him. "I don't have money to buy more—" "then don't buy more," he plainly states, looking at you. Standing up, you finally noticed the mask on his face. With a roll of your eyes, you flip him off, grumbling under your breath, “fucking weirdo”.

| The second time was fate's joke. 

Groaning and yelling, you kick an empty soda can, cursing out your good-for-nothing father. You ran your fingers through your hair, tears slipping on the corner of your eyes as every part of your body ached in pain. Sniffles turn to sobs, muttering about ending it all as everything seemed to never go your way. The oversized shirt barely concealed the bruises, recent and old, making you wince. “Fuck, I hate this shit,” your eyes got hazy, breathing almost cut short. With minimal effort, you sit by the store’s wall to steady yourself. Face buried in your arms, you— once again— don’t notice his presence. 

The first time Ghost met you, he thought you were another rebellious teenager trying to act cool. You didn’t have a job, so he assumed you were a student. When he got home from that first meeting, he could only sigh and hope you’d gone back to your parents. Imagine his surprise when he sees you again, huddling by the store, sobbing. He was not one to manage emotions, so he thought of leaving you alone when a sudden gust of wind caught his attention. Blowing the flimsy fabric on your body, Ghost could see the marks on your body; marks he was too familiar with. Without hesitation, he walked over, pulled you up, and led you to his car. You didn’t even protest. How far gone are you to not even try to fight to live? 

The silence on the way to his house was uncomfortable, with your occasional sniffles which turned to hiccups. His eyes glanced at you from the side. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reaches at the back to grab one bottle of water from his bag and hands it to you. “It’s not drugged,” he tried to joke. “I wouldn’t mind if it was,” you mumbled, silencing Ghost from awkwardness.  At the end of the night, you found refuge. You were offered a place to stay, some food, clothes, and.. peace and safety. You found something rare that you never want to let go of.

| The rest are blessings.

Opening up to Ghost was relatively easy. Was it because you guys shared the same experience? Was it because he was the first to ask? All you know was you had him now. You would always come to his house when you needed to escape, and he never seemed to push. But the day you finally told him was a time you’d love to keep but forget. 

Coming to the place that seemed to be hell on Earth, you were immediately greeted by a chokehold, pressed against the wall. “Fucking brat. What took you so long? Are you out there spreading legs for people, bitch? The apple doesn’t really fall far from the tree. Your bitch mother was also a whore” ‘Ah, it smells like liquor. He’s drunk again’ you thought, eyes drained of life. Next thing you felt was yourself slumping down on the floor with an ache on your face. ‘This motherfucker really punched me’ “If you ever think of following that bitch’s footsteps and leaving me, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Sighing, you pull your legs closer to your chest while your father repeatedly stomps his foot on your legs, then your back. He eventually got tired, leaving after spitting on your face. It took everything in you to force yourself to stand and make your way to your room.

Dread immediately poured in when you noticed every drawer was pulled. “No, no, no, no, no'' you sobbed, rushing to look at the place where you hid your safety money. Feeling nothing, you started to cry, rushing out the door and ignoring the yells from your father. You didn’t know where you were going. Using the only 10 dollars you had left, you took a cab to the only place you know is heaven on Earth.

As soon as the cab pulls up to the familiar house, you storm out of the vehicle. You rush to the door, opening it using a spare key and yelling his name.

“SIMON,” you cried. Footsteps thundered and you see his figure pop up from the kitchen, eyes widening as he takes in your state. It was like all the weight on your shoulders was lifted, your knees buckled. Before you could collapse on the floor, Simon was already by your side.

One arm holding you by your knees and another across your shoulder, he carries to the living room. Sitting down and letting you embrace him from his lap. His warmth calmed you down, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Holding on his shoulders, begging him to keep you safe with tears staining his shirt. He shakes his leg, softly cradling you closer to his chest. “I’m here, I’m here. I won’t let you go, okay?” he mutters, turning your head to him and placing a firm kiss on your forehead. “I will keep you safe. This is the last time you’ll be in pain. I’ll protect you from whatever scares you,” he sighs, wiping away your tears as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulders.

You look at him with a broken smile and profound peace, like he's a savior— a god. For the first time in years, you let yourself succumb to sleep without any worries for your safety. 

Maybe this is indeed heaven. You would love that— to be in Simon's safe embrace forever, away from the horrors of the world.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: my first ask by anonymous. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open! 

⟢ taglist is open! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[ceyanabbiolo]

CONTRACT // C.S [05]

Summary: Christopher Sturniolo, a 26-year-old billionaire CEO, agrees to a strategic marriage with Aurora Devereaux, the 21-year-old daughter of his rival, to save his company during a crisis. Raised in a cold, arrogant environment, Chris is used to control and detachment. Aurora, a final-year fashion student, is forced into the arrangement by her powerful father and struggles with the fear of losing herself. As the two navigate their unexpected marriage, they begin to confront emotional walls and develop a connection that challenges everything they thought they knew about love and trust. But with their families’ influence looming, will their bond be strong enough to survive—or will it fall apart?

Warnings: none. slightly flirty Chris.

wc: 3109

Chapter 5: The Penthouse

It was the end of the month when the movers showed up at the penthouse, carrying the carefully labeled boxes that held the pieces of my old life. 

Clothes. Some books. Trinkets from my childhood I hadn’t been able to leave behind, and all my school stuff. Not much. It never felt like it would be enough to fill a place like this.

Chris wasn’t here. Of course, he wasn’t.

I hadn’t seen him since the engagement party, not really. There were a few short, stiff text messages, details about the move. Nothing personal.

The maid — an older woman with kind eyes — met me in the lobby and ushered me upstairs, guiding me through the sleek, cold hallways like I might get lost otherwise. She didn’t say much, just pointed down a hall and smiled.

"Your room, Miss," she said quietly.

There was a sticky note slapped onto the door, my name written in careful, neat handwriting. Aurora.

The absurdity of it made my throat ache a little.

I peeled the note off and pushed open the door. The room was... beautiful. Huge king-sized bed with dark gray linens. A massive window overlooking the glittering city skyline.

The movers came and went, leaving behind a mess of cardboard boxes and pieces of my life scattered across the polished floors. I stood frozen in the middle of it all, arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to will myself to do something. To unpack. To settle in. But I couldn’t.

The massive closet stood empty and waiting. The huge king-sized bed was made, untouched. The floor-to-ceiling window looked out over the glittering skyline, cold and impersonal.

And my things — all my sewing supplies, my sketches, my mannequin, my fabric — were sprawled everywhere, looking heartbreakingly out of place against the sleek, expensive furniture.

Where was I supposed to put all of it? There was no sunny studio corner here like back home. Just a room that was too big, too clean, too foreign.

I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at the chaos around me. The sewing desk I loved was shoved awkwardly against the far wall, looking pitifully small compared to everything else.

My throat tightened painfully.

This wasn’t home. This wasn’t mine. I was just squatting in someone else’s life.

I dropped my head into my hands, letting the minutes pass, unmoving.

Outside the glass, the city buzzed — alive and pulsing — while I sat there, frozen.

Half an hour later, I heard the soft click of the front door opening. Footsteps on hardwood. Slow, steady.

I didn’t look up.

There was a pause in the hallway. Then more footsteps, growing closer.

Chris appeared in the doorway, tall and sharp against the sleek lines of the house. He wore a black dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and no tie. His hair was slightly messy, fluffy like he’d run his hand through it, and somehow that only made him look even more frustratingly handsome.

He stood there for a second, surveying the room.

His eyes moved over the unopened boxes, the mannequin half-draped in pinned fabric, the sewing machine teetering on the edge of the desk.

And then he pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, his presence immediately filling the space.

"You’re not unpacking," he said, voice low and even, but not exactly warm.

I shrugged, not looking at him. "I’ll do it later."

Chris didn’t leave. Instead, he slowly wandered through the room, his movements casual but sharp-eyed. He brushed his fingers lightly across a fabric roll, nudged one of the boxes with the tip of his shoe.

"You brought all this?" he asked, sounding more curious than judgmental.

I finally glanced up, feeling the heat creep into my cheeks.

“It’s for school,” I said, forcing the words out. “My final portfolio’s coming up. I need it to work.”

Chris gave a small nod.

“That’s fine,” he said simply. “Just keep everything in here".

I swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his presence even though he wasn’t looking directly at me. The room suddenly felt smaller with him in it. Warmer.

He paused by the window for a second, glancing at the city lights outside. Then, almost like he remembered something, he turned back to me.

"There are a few things you should know," he said, walking slowly back toward where I sat. "House rules."

I nodded stiffly.

He stopped a few feet away, hands sliding into the pockets of his dress pants.

"The kitchen’s stocked. If you want something specific, tell Ana or one of the kitchen staff. They’re usually here in the mornings and afternoons," he said. "You don’t have to cook unless you want to."

I nodded again, gripping the edge of the bed to keep from fidgeting.

"And laundry — if you leave it in the baskets, it’ll get taken care of," he continued. "You can do it yourself, but you don’t have to."

His eyes flickered around the room again, taking in the chaos, but there was no judgment on his face. Just that calm, unreadable coolness.

"There’s a cleaner who comes every other day," he added. "If you need something moved or organized, ask Ana. Or tell me."

He said it casually, almost like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t used to explaining his life to someone else.

"I work late a lot," he said. "Sometimes weekends too. So if I’m not around, it’s not... personal."

Something in his tone softened then, just barely.

"And if you need anything," he finished, his voice dropping slightly, "don't wait around. Just ask."

The silence stretched tight between us.

He was trying. In his own cold, careful way, he was trying to make this easier.

I shifted a little on the bed, feeling small under the weight of his gaze. He was close now — not towering exactly, but big enough that I felt it. And unfairly good-looking. The way the low light caught the angles of his face, the sharpness of his jaw — it made my heart kick up nervously in my chest.

Chris studied me for a second longer, then — unexpectedly — he tilted his head, a slow, almost lazy gesture.

And then he asked, voice low and a little rough, "Are you scared of living with me?"

The question hit harder than it should have. Not teasing. Not playful. Just straight-up blunt, like he actually wanted to know.

My breath caught slightly. I hadn’t realized he was standing so close — only a few inches away now, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the faint clean scent of his cologne.

I looked up, wide-eyed, caught between the sudden proximity and the unexpected rawness of his question.

My mouth went dry. I managed to croak out, "What?"

It came out smaller, shakier than I meant it to. His mouth curved into the faintest smirk, not cruel — just a little cocky, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

He stepped even closer. I shifted back instinctively, but the edge of the bed was already pressed against the backs of my knees. Nowhere to go.

Chris tilted his head again, studying me like I was something interesting, something he couldn’t quite figure out. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and tilted my chin up with two fingers — light but firm, keeping me from looking away.

"You don’t have to be scared," he said, voice low and steady, almost coaxing. "You’re safe here."

My heart slammed against my ribs. Who's going to tell him the thing I’m scared of is him? I was sure he could feel how hard I was trembling under his touch.

Chris let out a low chuckle, quiet but undeniably amused.

"You’re shaking," he murmured, almost to himself.

I hated how warm his hand was. How gentle. How my body betrayed me by leaning the slightest bit toward him. His thumb brushed lightly along the line of my jaw, and I swore my brain just... short-circuited.

"You’re not a guest, sweetheart," he said, his voice softer now, something almost reassuring threading through it. "You live here now. This is your home."

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying desperately to get a hold of myself.

Chris's hand lingered for another breath, one, two — before he slowly dropped it, letting the moment unravel naturally.

For a second, he just stood there, still way too close, still watching me with those sharp, unreadable eyes, like he was waiting for me to believe him.

Then, finally, he took a step back, giving me space again.

The air between us stayed thick, buzzing with something electric and unspoken.

"If you need anything," he said again, his voice gentler now, almost like a promise, "ask staff."

Why did I think he was going to say Ask me, of course he’d want me to ask the staff. 

He held my gaze for one more second — a second too long — before he turned and walked out, his footsteps retreating down the hall.

The door clicked softly shut behind him, leaving me standing there, breathless, heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted out.

I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks, feeling the heat of my embarrassment spread. I hated how easily he’d thrown me off balance, how his presence reduced me to a flustered mess.

Christopher Sturniolo was insufferable — cold, arrogant, and distant. Yet, somehow, he’d made me nervous, without even realizing it.

I hated how effortlessly he could do that, how much control he had over my emotions, even when he probably didn’t care. His fingers on my chin, his voice low and steady — it all lingered, making everything feel more intense than it should have. I tried to shake it off, but the feeling stuck with me. 

I hated how much it bothered me.

CHRISTOPHER

I stayed locked in my office for hours after that interaction, pretending to be busy.

Emails, contracts, reports — all of it blurred together until the lines on the screen didn’t even look like words anymore. No matter how much I tried to bury myself in work, my mind kept circling back to her.

Sitting stiffly on that giant bed earlier, clutching herself like she didn’t know if she was allowed to be here.

Like she thought she didn’t belong.

I don't know why I even touched her or even got that close, but I couldn't fight away the though of loving how she looked under my gaze.

By the time the clock crept past 4 PM, I shoved my chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the hardwood. Ugh. Screw it. I needed to check on her.

The house was silent as I made my way down the hall, the kind of heavy silence that pressed against your ribs.

When I reached her room, I found the door open, lights off, and no sign of her. I frowned, tension snapping down my spine.

 Where the hell was she?

Then, the sound of quiet footsteps from farther down the hall. Toward the west wing, toward my side of the house.

My jaw tightened as I followed the sound, rounding the corner. And there she was.

Standing near my bedroom door, leaning in like she was trying to peek inside.

I stopped cold.

"What the hell are you doing?" My voice came out low, harsh, sharper than I meant it.

She jolted violently, whipping around to face me, her eyes wide and panicked. "I—I wasn’t—" she stammered, taking a quick step back from the door.

I crossed the distance between us in two strides, towering over her. "Why are you looking into my room?"

She looked down, flustered, her hands knotting in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "I didn’t know it was yours," she said quickly. "I was just... looking around. I got a little lost. I didn’t mean anything by it."

For a second, I just stood there, staring at her. The way her voice trembled a little, the way she shrank under my gaze.

The guilt flared up instantly. But pride — that old, stubborn part of me — kept me silent. Kept me from saying the apology sitting bitter on my tongue.

Instead, I shifted my weight and let my voice drop lower, harder.

"Stay out of this side of the house," I said. "You have everything you need on your end. Don’t come wandering over here again."

Her face fell slightly, but she nodded, looking small and embarrassed. 

She didn’t know it, but I had made sure her room was far from mine on purpose. Deliberate. Safer that way — for both of us.

She mumbled a small, "Okay," and turned, walking quickly back down the hall without looking at me again.

I stayed where I was, watching her retreat. A tight, sour feeling twisted low in my chest. I told myself it was better this way.

The distance. The boundaries.

It had to be.

—

The hours dragged again after she wandered off. 

I shut myself in my office again, pretending to be busy—emails, contracts, budgets—but none of it stuck. The words blurred together on the screen, meaningless.

The house felt too damn quiet.

I checked the time—nearly seven. Right on cue, my phone buzzed across the desk. I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Grinding my teeth, I answered, keeping my voice even. “Yeah?”

“Chris,” Aurora’s father’s voice came through, too bright, too forced. “Just checking in. Everything alright over there?”

I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. “She’s here. Settling in.” The words came out clipped. Harsher than I meant.

There was a pause. “You sure?” he asked, his voice dropping, threaded with a rare kind of concern. “She’s... she’s a sensitive kid. This is a big change for her.”

Something inside me snapped.

"If you were that worried, maybe you shouldn’t have handed her off like a business transaction," I said, voice low and sharp.

Silence crackled across the line. 

"Chris," he said finally, firmer now, "calm down. It’s not like that."

I bit back everything else I wanted to say. None of it would change anything. "Fine," I muttered. "She's fine."

Before he could get sentimental, I shifted the conversation back to business—the Sturniolo x Devereaux deal, projected numbers, timelines. Numbers I didn’t give a damn about right now.

When the call finally ended, I tossed my phone onto the desk harder than necessary. I sat there for a minute, stewing.

She's a sensitive kid. Big change. The words echoed in my skull, irritating the hell out of me.

I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping back. If he cared so much, he should’ve been the one checking if she’d eaten. If she was scared. If she was even unpacking.

The house stayed too damn quiet. I made my way down the hall to her room, hesitating for a second before knocking. Two sharp knocks.

Soft footsteps padded toward the door.

It cracked open, and there she was.

She looked... different.

Her damp red hair curled slightly at the ends, a little messy, a little soft. She wore a simple nightdress—loose, thin, falling just above her knees. 

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

Her skin glowed from the shower, fresh and warm, and the neckline of the dress dipped just enough to make my jaw clench. I forced my eyes back to her face, clearing my throat roughly.

"You eat yet?" I asked, the words coming out gruffer than intended.

She blinked up at me, startled. Then slowly shook her head, tugging the door closer like she could hide behind it.

Something twisted in my chest, but I shoved it down. She hesitated, then slipped on her fluffy slippers, padding softly behind me down the hall.

She wasn’t comfortable. I could feel it in every step she took, and hell, I wasn’t exactly making it easy on her.

The dining room looked like a damn showroom—gleaming table, fresh food spread out perfectly by the staff. But everything felt... off. Wrong.

“Take a seat,” I said, pulling out a chair without thinking. She hesitated, then sat, folding her hands in her lap like she didn’t know where to put them.

The food was laid out—roasted vegetables, warm bread, a thick, rich stew that smelled like something good, but she just stared at it.

I sat across from her, watching her pick up the fork like it weighed too much.

"You haven’t eaten today, have you?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.

She didn’t meet my eyes. "I don’t know... I guess I lost track of time," she said softly.

Liar, but I let it slide.

"You should eat something," I said, quieter this time. "There’s no reason to skip meals."

She gave a small nod and took a careful bite.

The silence between us stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable—for me, anyway. It was her silence that gnawed at me.

I picked up my wine glass, letting the cool rim rest against my mouth before saying, "So," I said casually, "did you find a spot for all your sewing and design stuff?"

She paused mid-bite, surprised. She hadn’t expected me to remember that about her.

"Um... not really," she said after a moment. "I haven’t unpacked much."

I just nodded.

We ate in silence after that, or pretended to.

I caught myself glancing at her—how she kept fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress, how she barely touched the food even when she forced herself to chew. It twisted something sharp inside me.

Finally, she set her fork down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I should probably get some sleep," she said, almost like she was reminding herself aloud. "It’s been a long day."

I nodded, pushing back my chair, too. We both stood at the same time, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

"Thanks... for the food," she said, her voice soft, shy.

I shook my head. 

"No need to thank me, ma," I said, letting my mouth twitch in a smirk. "I wouldn’t let my fiancée starve."

Her cheeks colored slightly, and she ducked her head, hurrying out of the room with her slippers making soft sounds down the hall.

I watched her go, something uneasy still coiling low in my gut.

When I first agreed to all this, I figured I’d end up shackled to some spoiled rich girl, someone who’d spend her days whining and shopping. Someone is easy to ignore.

But Aurora was... the opposite. Quiet. Careful. Like she was trying not to take up any space at all.

It unsettled me. It intrigued me.

Almost.

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: ahh ok first 5 chapters done. if you read this please reblog and like!! i want this to reach people since in new] — lots of love ceyana

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

Babe!! Can we get some Cheater H smut where he’s at the gym and he’s fucking Reader and then his wife comes in but he keeps going and she doesn’t notice? I need that so bad OMG

I Don’t Wanna Talk To You*

warnings: smut, cheating, dry humping, unprotected sex, praise, dumbification, lil bit of exhibitionism, creampie

pairings: cheater harry x reader

masterlist | harry styles masterlist

~

“Harry?” YN calls, closing his front door behind her as she steps out of her shoes and makes her way further inside. She takes a peek at every room inside on the first floor of the house, frowning when she doesn’t see him in any of them. His car is definitely in the driveway and his location definitely says he’s home, so she heads up to the bedroom to see if he’s there. She finds the bed unmade but his slippers are still there, so she’s left to believe he must be in the basement.

She quickly jogs quietly down the stairs, the sounds of grunts and pants leading her directly to where he is. She steps inside the open door of his home gym, and lo and behold, she finds Harry in all his glory, in the middle of a drop set of deadlifts. His muscles are on full display, his back flexing with each rep. He hasn’t noticed her yet, so she takes the time to admire, subconsciously squeezing her thighs together at the thought of him making those sounds because of her; straining above her the way he is now.

The grunts haven’t stopped, the noises only fuelling her crude thoughts about the man she’s been dating for a year now. It only continues for about three more minutes, and then she’s watching him as he walks over to the wall nearest him and places the dumbbells down, squatting down to take a sip of his water. Everything he does ignites a fire in her that’s unexplainable. Her thighs are beginning to ache with how hard she’s squeezing them together, and they damn near snap in half when he finally turns around and notices her, his eyes lighting up and a dimpled grin covering his face immediately.

His eyes trail over her body as he strides toward her, and her heart is beating so fast she thinks she’ll pass out right then. He doesn’t even try to hide it when his eyes linger on her chest before trailing down to her thighs and he’s smirking when he sees how tight she’s clenching them. The sight ignites something in him as well, his cock stirring slightly in the loose shorts he’d chosen to workout in, but he forces it down. When he reaches her he leans down and intentionally presses a sweet kiss to her lips, moving away before she can deepen it. It pulls a needy whine from her lips as she chases his with hers, and he gives in immediately, wrapping one hand around her throat as their lips meet again.

She’s shifting on her feet and moaning into the kiss, nearly melting into the floor when his tongue starts to explore her mouth. With his free hand he reaches for the front of her tube top and frees her breasts, making her groan as the cool air of the gym begins to harden them. He begins to roll one between his thumb and forefinger, separating their lips and pressing their foreheads together to gauge her reaction.

“M’glad you’re here, baby,” he coos, rubbing a thumb over the hardening bud. She smiles brightly at his words, thinking he’s finally going to give her what she’s literally craving right now, but he doesn’t. “Need a spot for these bench presses, my love. Can’t be getting stuck,” he finishes, a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

Her smile falters just a bit as he grabs her hand and leads her to where he’ll be working next, and then he’s climbing onto the bench. She’s just standing there sort of awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what he wants her to do. “Cmon, hop on top,” he teases, chuckling as her eyes go wide, but she does as he says.

As soon as she’s comfortable, he goes straight into his sets, and he can’t even lie and say that he doesn’t exaggerate his grunts a little bit because he knows what they do to her. The fact that she’s sat right atop his abs isn’t helping either, she can feel each and every strain of his muscles whenever he goes to push the bar back up. The thin grey biker shorts she’d worn today and forgone panties with don’t stand a chance with how wet she is, and when she feels his abs graze her swollen clit it takes everything in her not to cry out in pleasure.

Harry just acts as if he’s none the wiser, continuing his set like he doesn’t feel the small amount of wetness she’s left on his stomach, or the way she throbs each time his abs flex against her. It takes all of his restraint when he feels her give into the temptation and start to rock her hips down onto his abs, but he has absolutely none left when she just begins to moan shamelessly at the pleasure she’s experiencing.

He places the bar on the rack and moves his hands to her hips, helping her to move along his abdomen. Her moans have picked up so loudly that they’re echoing throughout the small room, and his cock has become rock hard in his shorts. All he can do is ignore the throbbing and watch YN as she’s in absolute bliss above him, her head now thrown back as she gets closer to her orgasm.

Deciding to make the experience even filthier than it already is, Harry speaks up. “Such a dirty girl,” he rasps, watching with hooded eyes as hers meet his. “So desperate f’me you’re just grinding on my tummy, poor thing. Just couldn’t wait, hm?” his teasing does nothing but urge her toward the edge, and she’s nodding with all her energy, unable to find the words to express what she’s feeling, but he knows. “I know, darling. Cum f’me. Cum all over me and I’ll give you what you need.”

Those words are all the encouragement she needed to cum, her hips stilling and her legs shaking slightly as her orgasm wracks her body, a loud cry of pleasure leaving her. She cums so hard tears form in her eyes and start to fall down her face as Harry helps her ride it out, gradually slowing the movement of her hips until she’s grounded.

She eventually comes around breathlessly, her chest heaving. Harry doesn’t waste another moment and he helps her off of him before he’s easing her onto the floor and on her back, climbing on top of her to bring their lips together. The angle provides him with the perfect angle to slot himself between her thighs and press his throbbing bulge against her, bucking his hips slightly at the feeling of her wetness beginning to leak onto his pants.

The action makes him graze her clit slightly, and she whines a bit in overstimulation before he’s pulling away to look down at her. He groans out loud and his cock twitches at the sight before him; her little grey shorts are absolutely drenched from her orgasm, the dark patch in the middle glistening in the fluorescent lighting of the gym.

He can’t help but bring his hands to her waistband and begin helping her out of them, and he becomes absolutely feral when he sees a string of her wetness connecting her to the shorts. Bringing them down past her ankles, he takes just a moment to admire how beautiful she is, and any other time he’d simply eat her out until she passed out, but he’s too desperate to feel her.

So he frees himself from his pants and immediately lines himself up with her, pressing his tip into her swollen pussy. Her eyes flutter closed at the stretch, and when he just slowly pushes in until their hips meet, she wraps her legs around his hips to press him as deep as he can go. They’re both already wrecked, so close to cumming and he hasn’t even started to fuck her properly. He gives her a bit to adjust before he pulls out and plunges back in just as deep as before, setting a punishing pace from the beginning.

YN’s moans and the sounds of their skin meeting are loud in his ears as the pace surprises her, and she can feel the light dusting of hair on his pubic bone grazing her clit, making the feeling that much better. Placing her hands on either sides of his head, she brings his lips to hers and moans against them as he literally fucks her like it’s their last time together. She can feel her orgasm burning deep in her belly, her back beginning to arch until they’re interrupted.

The sound of a phone ringing on the floor next to them disrupts the little bubble they've formed, and when Harry pulls away to look down at it, a dark smile takes over his features as he realizes it's his wife FaceTiming him. He flips it around to show YN and her eyes widen when she realizes he hasn't slowed down even a little bit. She goes to ask him if they should stop but he speaks up before she can, pressing himself inside of her as deep as he can, making her choke on a moan.

"If I answer this call, will you be a good girl for me and keep quiet until I finish?" he asks her, reaching up with the hand that's not holding his phone and pressing his thumb into her mouth, a satisfied hum coming from deep within his chest when she nods enthusiastically, immediately closing her mouth around the digit.

He's still pressed deep inside of her their hips flush as he swipes the button to answer, turning his camera off as the call begins to connect. The moment it does, he can't resist the urge to roll his eyes as he sees his wife sitting at the fanciest brunch restaurant in the city, sipping on what he knows is the start of her bottomless mimosas. He can't even imagine the hit their bank account has taken, because he knows she loves to go shopping with her friends to show off and they always end up at the expensive restaurant they reside at now.

"Harryyy baby. I miss youuu," she drawls, the way she says his name making his nose scrunch up in disgust as she gets closer to the camera and forms her lips into a pout. He resists the urge to gag and decides to take his mind off of it, pulling his thumb from YN's mouth and bringing it down to her swollen clit and pressing down firmly before he begins to rub slow circles right on the head.

He watches YN in pure adoration as she brings her lips into her mouth in an attempt to keep quiet, and he decides to make things even harder by pulling out of her until his tip is resting at her entrance before slamming back into her. He thinks he'll cum right then when her eyes roll back into her head and her hands flail around to find anything to ground herself, a small broken whimper leaving her lips from the sensation. He’s brought back to earth, though, by the annoying, high pitched sound that is his wife’s voice.

“Do you want to say hi to my friends, they really want to meet you someday. I was thinking maybe they could come over to the house today?” she questions, her voice hopeful. But Harry couldn’t care less, all he cares about is making YN cum again before he literally explodes inside of her without warning.

"No, I'm busy actually, about to eat. I'm gonna have to call you back when I'm done, okay?' he asks, not really waiting for an answer before he ends the call and tosses the phone to the side. He thinks he hears her call out an ‘I love you’ but he brushes it off quickly, picking up his pace and basking in the sound of YN's cry of relief at being able to moan as loudly as she wants. "Fuck, did so well for me," he praises, trying to stave off his orgasm until she cums, his mind turning to mush at how perfect she is and feels. She's just babbling wordlessly beneath him, the intensity of everything that's just happened only aiding in the building of her orgasm.

He’s fucking her so deep she feels like she can’t breathe, no thoughts in her head as he just continues to wreck her, his hands nearly bruising her hips with how tight he’s gripping them. He can feel her start to flutter around him a bit, making him groan at what’s to come.

“That’s, it, baby. Gonna cum for me?” he coos condescendingly, and all she can do is nod, making him chuckle at how wrecked she is beneath him. “My dumb little baby, hm? Can’t even think when I’ve got my cock in you,” he teases.

YN’s eyes are just squeezed shut at his words, her body going completely numb before tensing, her pussy locking down on him so tightly he struggles to move as her orgasm finally washes over her. The orgasm moves through her body in what feels like waves, small shocks causing her to twitch lightly. Seeing and feeling her in so much pleasure actually triggers Harry’s orgasm as well, and he buries himself so deep inside of her, his jaw dropped as a broken sob leaves his lips, his balls drawing up so tight he swears they’ll explode. Then the tension is leaving his body and he practically screams as cum starts to spurt from his reddened tip and deep into YN, painting her insides with his orgasm.

~

Thank you guys so much for reading! Feel free to leave any feedback you have, and as always, requests are open. Love you!!!

[r-aindr0p]

"magical boys"

*BREAKS DOWN A WALL AMD CHUCKS MINI ROLLOS TO ANYTHING IN SIGHT*

WHERE?!

*visibly shaking* I am normal about this reversal trope of magical girls. I can definetely be trusted to not squeeze this mozarrella with a bowl cut to death. *mini rollo definitely being squeezed to death*

No idea if it's three anons or one but that's really sweet ✨ pls beware depending on which guy you plan to eat some of them give food poisoning or hallucinations (thinking abt some as those small colorful rainforest frogs)

I love magical girl animes very much, grew up watching tokyo mew mew (and somehow managed to watch wedding peach all on youtube a long time ago, i did not understand the english subtitles at all lmao, rewatched it years later and loved it), so imagine my surprise when I stumbled accross the first (if you ignore saint seiya) full on magical boy anime in 2015 and ever since I wanted to draw my own, and now I have my musketeers :)))

A lot more magical boy yapping under the cut because I love this trope so much

Anime I'm talking abt is 'Binan Koukou Chikyuu bouei-bu love' btw ! It's on the parodic side but not as much shitpost-ish as 'magical girl ore' for example. It takes itself "seriously" in it's own way. (and the ending song talks about 2 characters of the show that drifted apart and how there's 3 meters only separating them but it's enough for one to miss the other and aughhh my heart I could yap about this for ages)

LOOK AT THEM (couldn't find a decent pic of the season 1 clothes, this is season 2 and the pic is still low res augh)

Like, I was ?? idk in my last year of middle school maybe when I found this ?? fantastic discovery. Pink wombat mascot with the voice of an old man gives cute bracelets to 5 guys to save the earth. They have to say "love making" and kiss their bracelet to transform, I'm crying And here's the villains of season 1 and season 2 (twins) (silver haired bowl cut annoyed guy is my favorite, what a familiar description....)

There's 3 seasons in total to this anime and season 3 has a new cast of guys but years later at the same school !

Scenario is basically the same as season 1 but with different guys and villains, but omg the otter..... I love that yellow otter so much..... (look they have magical ace and deuce ) Villains of season 3 are called "edelstein knights" or something (ince again an angry guy with ridiculous bangs considered a villain, my beloved)

Other legit magical boy I love a lot is 'Fairy Ranmaru' !! It takes itself more seriously than binan koukou, in it's own scandalous way I'd say. They went ham with the fanservice during transformations it's crazy-(especially uruu's transformation) def +16 at least They do try to talk about serious matters and feelings/emotions in general. I cant' really tell if it's well written since I'm really an easy audience, I should watch it a second time... It's a visual experience at least if you're into that kind of designs

Blue guy my beloved.... Not showing any more, you can find the transformations on yt crunchyroll literally published them

Alright one last "magical" boy/girl, it's not even exceptionnal but it's a fever dream shitpost that has a special place in my heart : 'Classicaloid' So a girl's father created humanoids with the memories of classical composers and went to get milk, leaving them all. The classicaloids eventually decide to squat at the girl's house. They have magical powers called "musik" and have a small transformation animation. So to a certain extent I do consider this a magical people anime.

Here's everyone from season 1 (untransfromed) Beethoven and Bach (maybe mozart too tbh) are the most recognizeable but good luck to guess the others :') (Liszt and Tchaikovsky are genderbent) They are all so whacky together I love them so much, bach only speaks in musical terms "andante, pianissimo etc.." Chopin is the looser of all times, Mozart is.... Mozart, and Dvorak (season 2) became a pigmy hippo for literally no reason The animation is nice but the ending song illustrations ??? dang

First two pics are from season 2 endings, they all represent an important location for the composers or something related to them (for example Chopin's is the père lachaise cemetery in paris where irl one has a tomb) Really I'm amazed by all the ending art pieces, I can't put more than 10 pics per post, I would've showed them all otherwise eeee) On the thrid pic you actually see mozart in his musik outfit ! An in one ep he even lets his hair loose ahierjh

(takt:op is absolutely in my watchlist)

If you made it this far thank you for listening to the yapping, wether it was interesting or not ! :)))

[nelumbonuciferagaertn]

Prune Juice Cookie (CookieRun: Kingdom) x Reader

Relationship: Romantic with Prune Juice Cookie

Summary: The reader give him rare ingredients harvest by themself/himself/herself.

***

You ran, and ran, and ran again, trying to escape the monster hunting you down. You had reached your goal: taking a dragon scale. However, you hadn't planned for the fact that you would wake it up. Okay, maybe you had a plan, but, you see, you're actually in the middle of putting it into action now. Yeah, your only idea for escaping a millennial dragon was to rely on your little, weak legs. You don't know how you're still alive, but you are. And if you want to stay that way, you have to keep using every part of your body.

You run, jump, dodge, step over obstacles, and somehow manage to reach — not without difficulty — a safe place. You take a moment to catch your breath, but you're still buzzing with adrenaline, way too excited to stay still.

You squat down and place your knapsack in front of you. You take out a book and flip it open to the pages marked with post-its in your favorite color. You check if you have all the ingredients, your gaze flickering nervously between the book and your bag. Everything’s here. You were way too excited to hand over your hard-earned ingredients to Prune Juice Cookie and then go home to rest and nurse your scratches. So, without further hesitation, you head straight to your favorite Cookie's house.

When you arrive, you open the door and wander between the aisles, heading straight for Prune Juice's potion workshop (if you can call it that). When you push open the door, you give a little more force than you intended, and it slams violently against the wall, startling the Cookie who was mischievously stirring a mixture in his cauldron.

The delicious scent of prune juice fills your senses and instantly relaxes you. You think you might have really scared him, because he looks at you as if you were the terrible dragon you had just escaped from.

"Do you think I welcome savages into my home?" he says, adjusting his hat properly.

"Sorry, I can't contain my energy..." you notice you're speaking slower than usual, and your whole body feels heavy. The sofa you had set up for yourself, for watching Prune Juice prepare his potions, calls to you, and you can't stop your legs from moving toward that irresistible artifact (and yes, still talking about the sofa, not the Cookie, hehehe...). Meanwhile, Prune Juice Cookie starts stirring the potion again in slow, circular movements.

"I'm just very excited!" you continue, flopping onto the couch.

"Is that a reason to interrupt me during a meticulous preparation?" He turns to you — only to see you already fast asleep, clutching your knapsack.

Prune Juice Cookie sighs. Examining you, he notices the injuries covering your body. He leaves you alone for a moment, then returns with the Bookseller’s Monocle. Peering through the crystal-clear lens, he makes your injuries disappear one by one. Then he removes his cape and gently drapes it over you, lingering just a little too long, watching your peaceful face.

Two hours pass before you finally wake up. Slowly regaining consciousness, you sit up.

"Did you sleep well?"

You blush lightly.

"Is it my fault your house smells so... soporific?"

"No, but it is your fault for showing up here obviously exhausted and injured," he scolds.

You lower your head and mumble a small "sorry." Prune Juice sighs again and says:

"Anyway, how did you get hurt in the first place?"

This simple question reignites all your previous excitement. You suddenly leap from the couch and dash up to him, stopping less than a meter away, surprising him again.

"In fact, I didn't hurt myself all alone!"

"Luckily, otherwise you’d really be a lost cause."

You deliberately ignore the jab.

"Well, I brought you some presents!"

You hold out your satchel and press it against his chest. He takes it, eyeing you suspiciously, then finally opens it. As soon as he lays eyes on the contents, his pupils start to glow. He abruptly looks up at you, stammering.

"H-How did you get this? Did you seek it alone?! No, that's too dangerous, only an unconscious Cookie would do that... How much did you pay?"

"A brave Cookie like me doesn’t need money!" you say proudly.

You think you might have broken him, because he's just standing there, staring at you with his mouth slightly open. He shakes his head to snap out of it. With a giggle, you start explaining:

"First step: steal one of your books gathering all kinds of magical ingredients."

He gives you a look that's both doubtful and annoyed.

"Then, make a list of all the interesting ones. Don’t forget to do some research, scout for the ingredients, prepare strategies to collect them, and plan the order based on their storage capacity. And finally, I picked them! It took me so long, more than four months!... Hope you like it!"

"Like it?! Do you even realize how rare some of these ingredients are?! Of course you do, you read my notes."

"Thanks for that, by the way! It helped a lot in choosing the relevant ones. You're really brilliant, you know!"

"Of course I am!" he answers, looking away, pretending to be more interested in the bag’s contents. As he does, he spots a flask full of honey among the Bell Pepper BoltPairs and a pouch full of Ash Moonstone. He pulls out the flask, gives it a gentle shake, opens it, and takes a deep breath.

"Is that... a flask of Dear Honey!? How? The Queen Bee only gives her mellifluous nectar to those who prove genuine love."

"Yep! I don’t really know why she let me take her honey. I just told her I wanted to gather ingredients for a precious friend who loves brewing potions."

Maybe you lied a little. No big deal — you didn’t just call Prune Juice Cookie a "friend," after all. That was probably why the Queen gave you her blessing.

Prune Juice, who is no fool, quickly realizes that if you mentioned him to the Queen Bee, it means you might feel something... stronger than friendship. He can't finish that thought, too embarrassed. He mumbles:

"Is it me, or is it getting warmer here?"

"You said something?" you ask, tilting your head.

"Ah, you brought a Bitter Lime Piece!"

"I know you like your potions bitter, hehe."

"That's very kind of you," he says, starting to organize the new ingredients.

You skip closer, almost dancing, proud and satisfied, knowing you definitely touched him with your gift — and thankfully so, after so much effort. You stand next to him, just a little behind. The prune scent is even stronger from here. You rummage through your bag again, grab a random ingredient, and offer it to him. He looks at you before resting his hand on the box you're holding — touching your hand in the process.

"I'm really happy you like it! Truly."

You stay like that, gazing at each other for several seconds. Then he moves away to place the box on a shelf, murmuring a thank you.

"I’d love to stay longer, but after all these adventures, it’s getting late. I must go home. See you tomorrow!"

He doesn’t even have time to respond — you’re already gone, leaving him alone, his arm still awkwardly raised. He stands there motionless for a few minutes before adjusting his hat, as if trying to hide a (slightly purple) blush on his cheeks. Then he sighs, muttering about how reckless you are. When he finally finishes putting away all the gifts, he notices the book lying next to the satchel on the table. Curious, he flips it open to the pages marked with post-its he definitely doesn’t remember placing.

Indeed, they were yours. They were filled with notes like "Could be interesting to give," "No chance, it's too late to harvest this flower," "Such a cute plant <3." On the Bitter Lime Piece page, there's even a sticky note that says "This one reminds me of him!" making him pause longer. Some pages are also filled with doodles — a cute version of you, or a cartoonish drawing of him with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. That makes him chuckle, though he can't stop himself from muttering "absurd."

The last post-it makes Prune Juice Cookie’s heart skip a beat:

"I really hope he’ll love my gift. I prepared it with all my love!"

He slams the book shut with a loud thud.

"H-How can you turn everything into... into a sentimental scene?! You... you stupid adorable thing!" he huffs, his voice cracking halfway.

He pauses.

"How do you make me feel like this?"

Glancing around nervously, as if someone might be spying on him, he slowly, almost reverently, reopens the book.

He treats it as though it were something sacred, or forbidden... something too precious to touch, yet impossible to resist.

His curiosity — and perhaps something softer — wins again.

Meanwhile, you’re not doing much better having a full fangirl meltdown alone in your bedroom.

***

Note: I made a reader so sweet <3

[greyeyedmonster-18]

jingle all the bidet

(a wolfstar holiday au.

happy christmas eve. this is simply nonsense. enjoy xoxo)

--

Remus practically ran to the front door once he heard the knock, socks sliding on the hardwood floors, sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows though that wasn't particularly helpful. The cuffs were soaking, and the extra fabric drooped down to his forearms, small droplets splattering as he twisted the knob in a hurry, flinging the door of the house open.

"Hello, sir. I'm with Potter's Plumbing, we got a call about--"

"Yes! Yes! That's me," Remus said, gesturing wildly for the man to step through the doorway.

"I didn't finish--"

"As long as you're a plumber, I don't much care what call you were supposed to be on. You're here, you're helping me. Remus, hi, so nice to meet you--" 

"Sirius." Sirius seemed to get the hint, stepping into the house and Remus was able to firmly shut the door behind him, perhaps a little too forcefully.

"On a different day, I'd make a comment about our names and how we should join some sort of support group for parents with odd senses of humor but--" Remus didn't bother to look behind him as he walked quickly down the hallway, to see if Sirius was following him, just blindly hoping Sirius had these sort of emergency calls all the time. As a plumber does. No time for small talk and pleasantries and other superfluous information. 

Just quick. Down to business. Before a house flooded. Or maybe that was unique to Remus.

"Not today?" Sirius remarked from behind, a touch of laughter in his voice.

"Absolutely not today. You see, I'm in a bit of a plumbing crisis--on the Eve before Christmas Eve nonetheless. Festivus!-- so you can imagine my stress, I simply do not have the time to pencil in a good joke, because there are bigger issues at hand and I'm hoping you'll know exactly what to do, because I am at a loss and well....ta da!" Remus stopped just in front of the bathroom door, a weak smile on his face as he glanced between the mess of the master bathroom, and Sirius. 

It was a scene from a film.  Except instead of the bathroom being booby-trapped and finagled to catch robbers from killing him, Remus had made an entire crime scene attempting to install a bidet himself. 

How hard could it be?

Remus should’ve known when he was required to use a wrench that it would end poorly, but he had a modicum of faith, and a stubborn streak a mile long. 

There was an elbow-sized hole in the wall behind the toilet.

The tile flooded. Remus’s house slippers soggy on the bottom and cast aside outside the bathroom door. 

Remus had put a bucket behind the piping, but that didn’t catch much water at all when it all shot up like a geyser into the air, drops now falling from the ceiling. Remus had somehow managed to take down the shower curtain as well, and if he was brave enough later, he thought he might ask Sirius for help putting that back up. 

The top toilet cover had a handsome chip missing from it.

The toilet seat off its hinges.

And the bidet proudly on the floor.

Sirius tilted his head to the side slowly, surveying the scene wordlessly and inhaling deeply. Sirius took a pencil from out of his back pocket, scribbling a few notes on a notepad before turning to Remus and opening his mouth.

“We—”

“I know, I know. You’re probably wondering what the bloody hell happened,” Remus chuckled nervously, “And if I’m being honest, I’m wondering the same thing. I-I-I read the instructions before attempting to do this and I have always been a good student. A great one even!” Remus started and then stopped, “Okay, no, that was a lie. I’ve always been an okay student, but I know how to read. And in theory, I had it down pat. Flawlessly executed in my mind. But damn are toilet’s a lot harder to maneuver than the bloody instructions made it seem and one thing leads to another, I’m squatting down, elbow-deep in drywall. Literally,” Remus gestured to the hole behind the toilet, “I guess the only thing is I’m glad the water was clean and flushed and, and, well, you know what I mean don’t you?”

“I was going to say,” Sirius started, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth turning upward in amusement, “I hope you have another bathroom to use in the meantime.”

“Thank god we do.”

“Alright,” Sirius nodded, hitching up the knees of his jeans and squatting down to get a closer look at the damage. The band of his underwear poked over the top of his jeans. 

“A-alright, then. I’ll. Just..stay out of your hair and uh, let you get to work.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you need anything? I think there’s a wrench down there somewhere,” Remus pointed to the broken ceramic behind the toilet.  Sirius stood back up and turned around to face Remus, who, at that moment, realized he was standing much too close, now standing nearly nose to nose with a stranger-plumber and he flushed. “Ah! Sorry, sorry, I’ll just—”

“I’ve got to get some supplies from my truck, but otherwise I should be all set. The beauty of calling a plumber is they take care of it for you, and you can just relax, Mr….?”

“Remus! No, I mean not Mr. Remus. Remus Lupin. Mr. Remus Lupin.”

“Alright, Mr. Remus Lupin, rest easy,” Sirius said, with a quick smirk, walking past Remus down the hallway again toward the front door. Remus felt like he was chasing after him Sirius’s stride was so long and certain. 

“No, I mean, you don’t need to call me Mr. Remus Lupin. Or Mr. at all. It’s just Remus.” Sirius nodded again and exited the house. 

--

Remus wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do while a maintenance person was in his home. He recalled vaguely as a child hiding in his room until they left, pretending he did not exist--there were absolutely no children in this home, and if there were they certainly were not present at the time they were there, no sir! And typically, Gideon was the one who handled service requests. Remus making it a point to be uncharacteristically busy the moment something needed a repair. A light not working? Suddenly Remus needed to leave and return a package that had been sitting there for two weeks already. But Gideon was away, finishing up work for the holiday season, which was the perfect time for Remus to surprise him with a gift. 

A shame it ended in absolute disaster.

And now Remus didn’t know what to do.

With his hands, with his time, with his anything. And opted to pace back and forth down the hallway as Sirius started working in the bathroom. 

“Hello!” Remus poked his head into the bathroom, hands on the door frame. “Just checking in.”

“Checked,” Sirius told him, not moving from his position on the floor of the bathroom. Sirius’s work boots were damp on the bottom, uniform shirt rolled up to his elbows, and the long curly hair that had previously been down and dusting the man's shoulders, pulled up and out of the way. 

“Can I get you anything? Water, or a snack, surely you must be hungry or--”

“I’m all set, Remus.”

“Or, maybe I could--”

Sirius cleared his throat and sat up to look at Remus, elbows resting on the top of his knees, “Though I know it perhaps feels odd, as usually, I assume, when you have guests over, you entertain them in some capacity. But in this situation, it is quite okay to ignore me.”

“I…people really just ignore you?”

“Most of the time. Spare a few odd moments of chatter, but I believe you said this was an emergency and there simply wasn’t time for that today.”

“Well you don’t seem too concerned about all this.”

“I’ve seen so much worse.”

“That’s comforting. Perhaps I could make time for a joke or two then.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Oh, uhm,” Remus’s eyes went wide, “I-I didn’t mean an actual joke, I don’t think I have any of those, though I really should. I’m a teacher, you see. Kids love jokes, but I think most of the time, I’m the joke and don’t necessarily need to come up with something with a punchline. So, I might be fresh out, but if you give me an hour I could look one up.”

“Why did the Christmas tree go to the barber?”

“What?”

“Why did the Christmas tree go to the doctor?” Sirius repeated, soft smile on his face as he waited Remus to answer.

“Uh…I dunno. Why?”

“It was looking a little green,” Sirius finished, slapping the top of his knee for effect and Remus snorted.

“That was pretty good.”

“My godson is seven and is in his joke telling phase. I had to find a few of my own. You know, just to make sure I didn’t lose the cool godfather credibility.”

“Of course,” Remus said, and nodded, “Sorry…I’ll let you work.”

“If you would prefer…you don’t have to ignore me.”

“Really?” Remus asked, but was already inside the bathroom yet again, “Because I am winded walking up and down that hallway, between this botched installation and the pacing and the everything, this is the highest my heart rate has been in years. I promise, you won’t even know I’m here.” Remus took a seat on the edge of the bathtub letting out a sigh of relief as Sirius lowered himself to the floor once again.

--

It turns out, it was probably a good thing that Remus had never been home previously when a repair person had entered, because he could not simply pretend to not be there any longer. He was there. And Remus did not do well with silence.

“....so anyway, when we moved in, and I think Gideon--my partner, did I say that already? Oh, I did, I know I did-- wants to repaint the walls next year, to add some life into the place. But I dunno, I think it’s pretty lively. Do you think so? You go in a lot of homes, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And does mine, breathe life?”

“The snowflake hand towels are a nice touch,” Sirius commented, as he twisted something on the side of the toilet. 

“That's what I thought! Why do we need to paint and redo everything, when we can…spruce it up, with towels and…other decorations? Other..less permanent things,” Remus finished and Sirius hummed. “Not that I know much, or anything really, about designing and homes. This is my first one. Well, after the one I lived in before, but there isn’t exactly a book about how to…home. You know?”

“I get what you mean,” Sirius confirmed, “Are you French?”

“Pardon?”

“The bidet,” Sirius said from his position on the bathroom floor, back on the ground and doing something to the piping. The number of tools Sirius had brought with him was evidence enough that Remus had no business installing the bidet in the first place, the wrench he had sworn would be enough Sirius hadn’t even touched. Though he probably had nicer wrenches. Fancier wrenches. Did wrenches have levels of class? Just as well Remus would use a poor man's wrench.

“Uh. No, no, I’m not French. Not really. Sort of? My father is. Or…was. Is? He died, so he’s not…currently French and walking around saying Bonjour, or mon petit chou anymore, not that…that wasn’t all he said but he is French but just French as in dead in a cemetery. But his body-you know what I mean, don’t you? Anyway, he was—is—French, I am not. Well not, not. I grew up in Wales with my Mum. We barely had plumbing, sometimes we just went out back and dug a hole in the ground! Never had this problem with holes, I’ll tell you that much, no, no problems like this,” Remus trailed off and Sirius made another hum of acknowledgement as he worked, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. People get weird when I do. Like oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, and I can’t say, It’s fine I barely knew him! Without sounding like a complete arsehole so, I usually just make it weird and awkward and uh…well, you have a front-row seat to that,” Remus said, slapping his hands on his thighs, the thwack against his jeans echoing through the bathroom.

“You’re not an arsehole.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“You’re not an arsehole for not knowing your parent,” Sirius clarified. “Wales is nice.”

“It is. It was.”

“So you’re not French, why the bidet?”

Remus sighed standing up from the ledge of the tub, pacing the floor for the bathroom as he spoke, "Well, you see, I got it as a gift for my partner. Gideon, remember? They're away on business, and I told myself this was the perfect time to get ahead on Christmas shopping. If you knew me...which you don't, not really, but maybe by the end of this whole mess we'll be fast friends! I already told you about my dead Dad, and that's usually something I hold off on…it’s a bit of a downer. Anyway, if you knew me..know me, I'm terrible at planning ahead. I mean, who wants to go to the shops during the hols? Nobody. I don't care how much you love your mother--and I love mine, I promise I do, really--all the people running around, it's just too much. So I put it off and put it off, and suddenly it's Christmas Eve and--"

"That's about the worst time to go..." Sirius said, shifting his position so he was crouching instead, lifting the toilet seat off in one smooth piece.

"Precisely, so sometimes I don't even bother going at all, which I suppose might make me a bad person. I'm not! Occasionally an arsehole, but not a bad person! I recycle and, and, and I’m a good friend, I-I-I just...planning and gifts and the whole bit of it...isn't my strongest suit,” Remus said. “So I was so proud of myself! Because Gideon had mentioned wanting a bidet for the bathroom, the breathing life and the personal touches and all that--”

“I’m noticing a theme…”

“Yes! Life, carpe fucking diem! So he mentioned it, and I remembered--which is another thing I am not the greatest at-- and I went out and bought the bidet! Hid it in my office at work for a month knowing he’d be out of town today, and it would be the perfect opportunity to install it. He’d come back from his trip, go to the bath to wash up and he would be overjoyed, elated, delighted even, to see the bidet there, and I would be there shouting Happy Christmas! and for once feel like I really nailed the Christmas gift. Because the thing is, he is so thoughtful and so good at gift giving, and I…just come up short. And I thought not this year! But instead of coming home to a beautifully installed bidet, he’ll come home to…a plumbing bill and peeling up linoleum tile and a patched up hole and…a shower curtain. And-and- who knows if he’ll even like it! He’ll probably hate it.”

“Why would he hate it?”

“He never usually likes my gifts.”

“Who…doesn’t just say thank you for a gift?” Sirius asked, pausing his work to look at Remus. “That’s kind of the rule isn’t it? Even if it's an itchy sweater, or something you don’t particularly like, you say thank you and then later return it and pretend it didn’t fit. It’s not about the gift.”

“Well, I don’t know if there’s rules exactly,” Remus countered, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought of birthdays and holidays gone by where Gideon had remarked "oh, this isn’t exactly what i wanted, or you tried, Re in response to Remus’s efforts. 

“Secret rules, as my godson would say.”

“I mean, sure, there’s secret…rules, I guess, but remember? were you not listening to the whole bad at gift giving part?”

“I listened. Were you gifting rotten eggs?”

“Well no. It’s just that, he, and-and-I we’re just never on the same page, and his gifts are--and well, mine are--”

“Ah.”

“And, and, and who the fuck gets their partner a bidet for Christmas?”

“Well…maybe someone who has a partner who asked for one?” Sirius said, smirking a little before getting back to his work.

“Well you’re a bit arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Or just…right.”

“No. Because he didn’t explicitly ask for one he more mentioned it in passing…he’s mentioned  countless things in passing, why not just by one of those and not a major home renovation…this was a terrible idea. This was stupid! Why didn’t you tell me that? Going on about the gift rules and secrets, and the real issue here is that this was a bad idea!”

“I’m in the business of fixing up baths, not sharing my opinions on Christmas gifts.”

“Except you just did.”

“Very unprofessional of me, I admit.”

Remus said, stopping his pacing to run a hand over his face, “This is very unprofessional of me. Arguing with my plumber! About presents. And, it’s my fault, really. I should’ve told you in the call! That’s what I should’ve done, straight out the gate, just let you know the real situation, and I should’ve said that I bought this stupid bidet, and made a mess of my bathroom, and a million other wrong things--”

Sirius grabbed the bidet from the floor and placed it on top of the toilet. Pieces falling perfectly into place. 

“It’s not a bad gift,” Sirius told him, “Odd perhaps, but thoughtful. Plumbers honor.”

“Really…?”

“Really.”

“You’re right!” Remus said, and as Sirius made some final adjustments before pressing a button on the bidet. A jingle played.

“And, for what it's worth, you bought a good bidet. Nicer bidets tend to be more finicky to install so…really, this mess showcases heaps of effort.”

“Thank you!” Remus responded, somewhat indignantly, throwing his arms into the air. Someone understood. 

“That’s exactly what he should say. Your partner. When he walks into this room and notices--”

“The bidet.”

“The spectacular bidet.”

“What…if he doesn’t?” Remus asked quietly after a long silence, two men standing and admiring the bidet sitting proudly on a toilet with a broken top, singing its little song to prove it was functioning. 

“Would you like my professional opinion?”

“...Yes.”

“If he doesn’t say thank you and kiss you full on the mouth for this very thoughtful gift…then at least you can enjoy this bidet and you throw a massive party with all of your friends and tell them to use this bathroom.” Remus snorted, thinking about walking guests into the master bedroom and bathroom during a party--coworkers and neighbors and friends, stepping on the carpet in their shoes just to get to the bidet. 

“What’s your unprofessional one?”

“Find someone who will say thank you.”

“So I should find a liar.”

“Thank you for thinking of me, and thank you for the effort it took to find this gift, isn’t a lie in my book. It’s not about the bidet.”

“It could be.”

“Yeah but it's not.”

“But it is, kind of.”

“No.”

Remus opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say, Sirius grinning smugly at Remus, daring him to disagree again. This man might have had the same stubborn streak Remus had. His stomach fluttered for a moment, almost laughing, almost joyful at the silly, naive thought of spending a lifetime with a man, this man, who argued without the malice behind the words. 

“It’s not that simple anyway,” Remus said, “Just…leaving.”

“Never said it was, but either way…this is yours,” Sirius gestured to the bidet, “And someone should use it.

--

It had only been a few hours, but the bathroom looked good as new. Bidet installed, hole patched up and water was mopped up. The only sign that something had gone awry was the toilet top with the chunk missing. 

“We’ll have to get you a new one,” Sirius told him, writing up the invoice as they walked to Remus’s front door, toolbox in hand

“Will that take weeks?” 

“No, a few days just because of the holidays. I’ll bring it by the 26th, and it’ll be all set.”

“You are truly a life saver, I don’t know what I would’ve done, and….thanks for listening to me talk…all day. I know you probably didn’t sign up for that exactly when you took this call, and probably had better things to be doing, and--”

“This was one of the more enjoyable calls I’ve had actually,” Sirius told him, pausing in front of the front door. “I had a good time.”

Remus laughed awkwardly, reaching for the doorknob to open the door for Sirius, “This feels like the end of some sort of date…do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“Very kind, but I promise I’ll make it.” Sirius nodded, sticking out his hand. Definitely not a date. “Pleasure working with you Mr. Lupin.”

“Remus.”

“Remus,” Sirius said, “I’ll see you in a few days. My numbers on the invoice, should anything come up before then. Just…call.”

--

Christmas music was playing loudly in his living room, Sirius’s godson testing out his new dance moves learned at school on the rug, his best friends clapping along and joining in with their own dance moves alongside their child. Sirius had just pulled the roast chicken out of the oven--the shining star for the Christmas Eve feast-- when the phone rang. Oven mitts still on, he hurried to grab the land line, tossing a stray curl out of his face as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Potter’s Plumbing?” the voice on the other end said and Sirius couldn’t help but bite back a smile. He had been in Remus’s home for only a few hours, but had heard the other man talk enough that Sirius was certain he’d be able to identify who was speaking with his eyes closed. It was refreshing. Sirius returned home that day and recounted the emergency call to his best friend, leaving out no details about the frazzled, freckled, and messy man who attempted to install a bidet. 

You put your personal number on the invoice? Sirius, that’s too bold.

Sirius was thinking he wouldn’t call.

He hadn’t expected any bidet related emergencies.

“This is Sirius Black,” Sirius said, “But I am part of Potter’s Plumbing.”

“Oh, good, Sirius, it’s you. Hello, it’s Remus Lupin, remember, you serviced my bidet a few days ago and there's a toilet top that needs to be repaired, and we hung up a shower curtain together and I almost fell to my death off the bathtub ledge?”

“Ah yes,” Sirius teased, “Thanks for those details to jog my memory, without them I would’ve definitely forgotten. Did you run into some trouble?”

“Uh…No.”

“Oh…then, how can I help you, Mr. Lupin?”

“Remus.”

“Remus.”

“I…” Sirius heard Remus click his tongue a few times, “I…decided to…not…I mean, I don’t need a new toilet top. Can I cancel that? I think it looks better this way.”

“With the missing part?” Sirius asked, feeling a touch disappointed at the nature of the call.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go ahead and cancel that for you, Remus. No problem at all. Was that it?”

“No,” Remus said and paused again, “I’m having a sort of party.”

“Sort of?”

“A party, on New Year's Eve. I decided. To celebrate the new year and new beginnings and all that, glad tidings, you know, the things people usually celebrate. And…also to celebrate the bidet that's in the bathroom because I’ve been told it's a good bidet, like a nice one even! A professional told me that, and it…uh should be appreciated by someone. So I'm having a party and I’m wondering if…you like bidets?”

“Did I not tell you I’m French? I love bidets.”

[mossy-opal]

Must Be Doin' Somethin' Right

Kai Chisaki x Reader

Content Warnings: Depressive Thoughts, Murder Mentions, Child Abuse Mentions, SMUT, Dominant Reader, Edging, Guided Masturbation, I think that's it, if I missed something tell me

The legal system was no help after his release, even if he was deemed "harmless". Despite knowing full well what he was capable of, they still put him back out on the streets, on probation of course. They kept him under lock and key for the most part, if he went anywhere or did anything, someone would know about it. He had to report to his probation officer once a week, and every visit was as uneventful as the last.

After all, what could a man with no arms manage to accomplish? It was pathetic, how far he'd fallen from grace.

He needed help, more help than anyone was willing to give. In order to get help, legally at least, he needed to sign certain forms. That would work, if he had arms.

Kai Chisaki, once a man whom many feared to cross, now lay in his dingy, disgusting apartment, in dirty clothes, with stubble on his face, just a moment away from putting himself out of his own misery.

Hearing a knock on his door, he didn't even get up, if it was his probation officer they'd let themselves in regardless. When a new person walked in with a smug look on their face, that got his attention. He sat up, looking up at the individual with a glare.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

They laughed, leaning against the wall, "From you? Nothing. I'm actually here to offer you a deal, Overhaul."

Hearing his old villain name got his attention, his eyes widening.

"You'd better be careful with that name, who knows who could be listening…" He warned.

The stranger shook their head, "Not to worry, I'm actually a family friend of your probation officer, that's why and how I know where you live! Now, do you wanna know why I'm here, Chisaki?"

He didn't answer, only glaring.

"Well, I'm here to offer a deal, like I said. Favours for favours, if you catch my drift…"

Kai thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, "I have nothing for you here, you can see yourself out-"

"Oh but you do! Y'see, I find myself in a bit of a pickle," They started walking towards his bed, squatting down to his level. "I'm not exactly the strongest person in the world y'see, and you, well you have seen better days- But I can help you if you can help me! I need a handyman, a workin' man, if you wanna call it that- You can be my man!"

Kai blinked, ".... Uh huh… Well, as I said, I'm not exactly in the position to be, as you so eloquently put it, a working man."

As he said that, he lifted what's left of his arms, before glaring at the stranger again.

"Now, get the fuck out."

The person stood up, stretching, "Alright, alright, I'll leave you to wallow in self pity- Didn't even give me a chance to state my half of the bargain…"

Kai grunted, not interested in whatever this person was selling- "Would be a real shame though, I could get you some amazing prosthetics. I know a guy."

They shrugged, turning on their heel. "But, you said no, so-"

"Wait."

They stopped, a grin on their face before turning back to Kai, who was now standing.

"Yes…?"

He hesitated, which from what the stranger had heard, was very unlike him.

"I'll help you with whatever you need me to help you with, so long as I get those prosthetics first."

"Oh absolutely! I'm not a monster, I wouldn't make you do shit you can't do, just for my own amusement! When you get your nice new prosthetics, then we can shake on it- Deal~?"

He glared once more with a sneer, before he nodded.

"Deal."

That was how he met you.

From then on he was, unfortunately, indebted to you. You had him moved from his crummy apartment and into your own house, on a farm. It was no wonder you wanted help, there was a lot of work to be done. Despite him insisting he didn't need to know anything about you, you went ahead and told him nearly everything about you and your life. It was like nails on a chalkboard, being in your presence, even if you helped him. To make matters worse, many of your ideals aligned with his own, just to a far less extreme.

You didn't have a quirk, your family never had quirks, and you believed the stereotypes of quirks and the society built around them was flawed. Even in passing, you had mentioned how much better things would've been had quirks never appeared.

However, despite the similarities between the two of you, Kai was certain that he hated you.

You were loud, obnoxiously so. You were far too lax for your own good. Eventually, acting the way you did would either get you hurt or killed- He couldn't wait for the day. You weren't messy, which was a good thing, but still, you were simply gross. Being in your presence alone would've given him hives, had he not been in poor living conditions prior.

He told himself that often, almost as if he was reminding himself you were gross. His mantra was said even more often while you were helping him around the farm. You took your shirt off far too often, each time you did so made him nearly vomit. That habit being a part of that relaxed personality that he despised.

Even if you helped him, he was as cold and cruel as you'd heard. It posed a challenge to you, but eventually, you got bored. He wouldn't let you in, which was fine, he didn't have to- But having him around was to help with that loneliness you felt. Your parents were long dead, and with no other real family, you were bored. You were lonely. Even with Kai around, he was only there to fulfil his debt to you, he made that abundantly clear.

Oh, well there's an idea.

If he didn't want to get to know you or share with you, that was fine, but he owed you. Why not cash in? Maybe indulge a little? With your intentions known, Kai… Didn't know what to do. You started asking him to do many other chores around the house, practically kicking back while he took over cooking and cleaning. It disgusted him, how much of a "house-husband" he had become. Despite that, you were still rough with him, a vast difference from anyone else he'd ever known. The people he surrounded himself with were always useful, obedient to him, never looking him in the eyes.

You, on the other hand, practically looked down your nose at him. He didn't know how to handle your demands, he wanted to bite back, more than anything, but… But he didn't. He never bit back with more than a snide comment or a grumbling insult, but he never raised his voice or his hand against you, and it left him baffled.

It wasn't because he respected you, it wasn't because he felt so indebted to you that he didn't fight back. It wasn't because he wanted your praise, he never-

"Such a good boy~"

You had said it in passing, more like a joke than anything, but it still struck something in him. A chord that's never been strung, a new song they played in the back of his mind. He'd been praised before, but never like that.

It was disgusting, how he had a physical reaction such as that, he was ashamed of himself, how violated he felt.

That was when he bit back with more force.

"Don't you dare speak to me like I'm a fucking dog!"

"Oooh, careful pup, might have'ta muzzle ya because of that bite- Haha!"

Your nonchalant response proved it was, in fact, supposed to be a joke. But the visceral reaction he had was very much serious. He's never felt such a jolt before, not even when he had his first successful test of the quirk removing bullet. It felt similar to his first intimate interaction with a woman, but he hated how that felt. So in turn, he hated how he felt now.

How dare you.

All because you seemed to enjoy torturing him, you had the audacity to start teasing him more often, which he was not happy about in the slightest. It made him feel sick, it made everything feel too hot, it made him feel clammy, it made him grind his teeth, and he despised it, but not as much as he despised you, because you kept doing it.

So why didn't he just leave?

You had given him prosthetics, let him freely roam your farm land, given him more than enough payment for his work so he could survive on his own- But there was one problem.

He was still on probation, and he would be for the foreseeable future.

Who's to say you wouldn't take him to court for not paying you back for the prosthetics you so graciously provided him? If you did that, and you would, he would be put right back into Tartarus to pay for his crimes. Then he would really be a shame to the Shie Hassaikai, more than he is now. No, he had to see this through to the eventual end. It would take a long time, but if there was one thing he was confident in, it was his patience.

Although, that in it of itself was a tall task. You pressed him, you pushed him, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. The only thing he could do was whatever you asked him to do. Help you with the farming and yard work, help you move lumber and firewood, help you keep your chickens in place, clean up… Whatever you needed, he would begrudgingly do for you.

Unfortunately, it all came to a head one day, while his probation officer was in for a visit. You usually stepped out for them, but decided to stick around today, for whatever reason.

Now, truth be told, he wasn't very fond of his probation officer. They were far more rude to him than you were, making snide comments while asking questions, brazing remarks when he didn't answer fast enough. Well, their behaviour didn't change, even with you in the room. If anything, it was more harsh than usual. You were oddly quiet for the most part.

"Well, good to know you're finally on a leash-"

"Can you stop?"

When you spoke up, Kai looked over at you, as did his probation officer, who scoffed.

"What? It's not like you treat him any differently. He's a murderer-"

"Yeah well he's still human, and I'd appreciate it if you spoke to him in a better tone. You are in my house after all."

"Pfft- Better tone? As if! He doesn't deserve a better tone, and who the hell are you to tell me how to speak to him? You do the exact same thing!"

"I really fuckin' don't, you can believe that! He may have done some horrible shit, but so far he's come a long way, no thanks t' you! It was only after I stepped in he actually started making the changes your court system says he has to make!"

"He is a child abuser and a murderer, not some project for you to work on!"

"Oh as if you give a shit about children! How many murderers are running that stupid fuckin' government funded 'hero agency' you fuckin' worship!? Get outta my house, the next time you come here, you better behave yourself, or I'm reporting you for misconduct!"

"Get bent, you stupid bitch!"

Practically shoving his probation officer out of your house, Kai watched the entire thing with wide eyes and confusion clearly on his face. Of all people, he wouldn't expect you to stand up for him. You never once excused what he did, you reminded him more than he reminded himself, he was a bad person. Yet, you defended him from mistreatment.

"Why did you do that?" He asked.

"Do what?"

Kai rolled his eyes, "Don't act like an idiot. Why did you defend me?"

You shrugged, "Good question- I dunno, suppose I just don't care for unnecessary bullying."

Kai shook his head, "You bully me all the time-"

"Well yeah, but like I told them, it's different."

"How is it different?"

"I don't mean for it to actually hurt you, just t' sorta… Remind you of where you stand~"

That answered no questions for him, and as he watched you walk away, he didn't expect to have any of his questions answered.

However, it didn't matter much as time went on. The two of you worked in somewhat synchronicity with one another, your teasing being met with his own, eventually. His probationary visits had also been lowered, from once a week, to once a month, due to his good behaviour. That only aided his high spirits, taking him one step closer to being a truly free man once again. Time moved on, day by day, the two of you only being visited quarterly after some massive improvements on Chisaki's attitude. As well as a change in his probation officer. That rude individual had been replaced with a kind little old woman. He didn't want to question why or how that happened without his knowing, he knew you wouldn't answer.

You were odd to him. Your bullying was far less harsh now, if you could even call it bullying. Kai wouldn't call it bullying, because it really wasn't at this point. If anything, it was an odd way of flirting. The most troubling new development, was his inability to descern if he hated it or not. He was certain your flirting was annoying, but it came to his attention, eventually, that he enjoyed it. You flattered him, made him feel- Odd.

But as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't bring himself to hate the treatment. So much so, that he found it odd when you didn't flirt with him. Everything about the situation was just downright strange. He still didn't understand why you would help him like this, why you would defend him, why you would flatter him the way you did, why-

"It's getting cold out."

His attention snapped from the food he was making, to you coming inside from the evening.

"What?"

"It's getting cold outside, we gotta make sure the harvest is good, get some supplies from the city, then we should be set for the winter."

That was another thing you did that he found odd. You told him about your plans, and expected input from him, as if he had a choice.

"So, wanna come with me this time?"

He looked back at you, confused. "What?"

"Jeez, do I need to get your hearing checked out or somethin'?"

He clicked his tongue, "I heard you fine, what do you mean when you ask-"

"What the hell do you think I mean? I'm askin' you if you wanna join me to go into the city, not for your hand in marriage! It's not that complicated~"

Kai rolled his eyes and shook his head, "No, thank you. I would need to fill out a form in order to leave the property, and frankly I don't want to."

Your talking and teasing was drowned out after he said that, as he was thinking to himself about the realisation he just came to. He didn't want to leave. Despite everything…

But, you were right about it getting cold outside. The summer months slowly turned to fall, the leaves turning colour, and the sky darkening sooner. The two of you were able to harvest nearly everything before the first snow fall, and that was when Kai noticed just how badly the cold made him feel. Before, he was used to the cold, if anything, he preferred it. But now, it hurt him. It made his arms sore, as if they were heavier than how he was used to, and it was honestly horrible. Not only that, he felt useless now, watching you go in and out to retrieve fire wood or eggs, while he sat inside and did near to nothing. Despite your reassurance, he still felt… Disappointed. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed in himself, or disappointed that he was disappointing you. It never mattered before, how you felt about him, at least that's what he told himself, so why did it matter now?

What's worse, you noticed.

"Seasonal depression kicking your ass?"

He looked up from the fire to you, "What?"

You sat down next to him, handing him a mug of hot chocolate.

"Well, you've been real quiet lately, even after I annoy you, so something must be up."

He blinked, never having really paid it much attention before now.

"I…. Think I'm just not used to feeling this way. I hate feeling this way."

"Oh I getcha, I could only imagine how bad you must've felt when I found you-"

"That's just it, I think now I feel worse."

You looked at him, and he looked at you.

"When you found me, you… Gave me a new chance, an opportunity to help myself. As much as it pains me, I'm grateful to you, for that… But now, I can't help you. I can't do anything but watch you work, and it makes me so angry because… Because if I can't help you, what am I good for?"

You were silent, only making his thoughts run rampant.

"I can't seem to do anything correct, because everytime I've tried to do something meaningful with my life, it lands me right back at square one- Where I feel useless and pitiful, and frankly I'm disgusted with myself for allowing myself to feel this way, again. You found me and… Gave me a purpose. You put me to work, and as much of a bitch as you are, you've helped me…"

You snorted at that.

".... But now I'm sat here on your couch, in your house, wallowing yet again, because I can't help you more than you've helped me."

With that off his chest, he felt marginally better, but that darkness surrounded his mind yet again, before you spoke up.

"Well, if it makes you feel better you don't owe me anything anymore."

He looked at you again, "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "I said what I mean, you don't-"

"No, that's not how this works, these prosthetics alone have costed you-"

"Don't worry about it, think of 'em as a gift."

He thought for a moment.

"And the allowance?"

You shrugged again, "Payment for your labour."

"And the room?"

"A place to stay that's not rat infested~"

"And the clothes? And the food? What about everything you've done for me- My probation being altered! I know you had a hand in that as well! So what do you mean I don't owe you anything? There is no way-"

You suddenly grabbed his jaw, something you've only ever done to fluster him on purpose, but it certainly shut him up.

"Will ya just shut your mouth and take what I give you? Fuck, you act like I saved you from some final destination death or whatever- I'm just being nice. Is that such a foreign concept to you?"

When you let him go, he was still silent. Did you not grasp the concept of debt? Especially for someone like him, whose whole life surrounded the teachings of the Yakuza, and how debts must be repayed. What you were doing for him went against everything he was used to, everything he'd ever known, and yet… He was somewhat okay with it.

Not entirely, he still had many questions, but he tried to ignore his nagging curiosity.

You were odd.

After that you made it a point to be as obnoxiously helpful as possible, to the point where Kai just had to look at something, and you would get it for him. It was annoying and it made Kai want to yell at you for making him feel so- So…. Pampered. In the end, that's all you were doing for him. Of course there were limits, you wouldn't help him with his prosthetics or get his clothes, but you were still helping him with damn near everything. He would ask you why, and you would shrug as per usual and give a half-hearted excuse,

"'Cus I wanna!"

But never more than that. Never a full explanation for why you did what you did. After all, you didn't have to. You teased him about it as well, making him flush and feel embarrassed, even if he knew you meant no harm in it. With the new development, came a new feeling Kai had been ignoring for quite some time.

…

By no means was Kai Chisaki a virgin. In his pursuits, he was sure to experiment at least once, despite the very particular parameters his paid-for partner had to follow. He was aware that sexual intimacy was nothing to write home about- It was far too complicated of a process to really get into it or pay more attention to it then he needed.

Unfortunately, this time with you had his curiosity reignited. His mind began to wander to places he had never ventured before, that prospect scared and intrigued him all at the same time. He wondered how your bare skin would feel against his. Would your hands be soft against him, or hard? Which one did he want more? He wondered how it would feel if he surrendered to you completely- Would you be kind, or would you be cruel?

Why did he hope for the latter?

So many thoughts would come to mind, and often at the worst of times- Sitting next to you, at dinner, while he would watch you chop firewood out in the cold, your jacket taken off to account for your labour, despite your red nose and rosy cheeks- That was the safest time for the thoughts to arise. When you were too busy with something else, when he could watch you for hours, and you didn't even notice.

At least, that's what he had originally thought.

"Hey, why have you been starin' at me?"

That question made him nearly choke on his food.

"Ha! What, didja think I wouldn't notice? Why else would I take off my shirt in this cold ass weather~?"

"H-how long have you known…?"

"Eh, a few weeks I think."

He scoffed, before getting up.

"Hey, where ya goin'!?"

"To my room."

You got up after him and practically started chasing him down, before you were finally able to get a proper hold of him. He didn't struggle much, it would hurt if he did.

"Let go of me-"

You laughed, "Nope! Not until you tell me why you like to stare at me~"

"Fuck you, you know why!"

"Oh we will, soon as you tell me~"

He stopped moving, looking at you.

"What?"

"What~?"

"What did you just say?"

"Mmmm, I don't think I'm repeating myself~"

Kai was lost on how to feel, unsure if he should feel scared or aroused by you… But, he was far too curious for his own good.

"And what if I was staring at you because…. Because I find you attractive?"

You moved closer to him, your warmth giving him goosebumps, as you breathed against his neck.

"I think I'd do something about it… I don't like being stared at~"

Kai had to bite back a shudder, cursing himself for stuttering, "W-what are you going to do… About it…?"

With a smirk, you dragged him to his room, throwing him inside. Without even closing the door, you followed him inside, unbuttoning your shirt. It was nothing new to see you topless, that was something he needed to get used to, but when you started taking off your pants, that's when he looked away.

"Uh uh, look at me."

The demand in your tone made his eyes look at you, struggling to keep his eyes in one place. He saw you smirk, which made him flush more.

"Well, come on pretty boy, you gonna take your clothes off, or am I gonna have'ta do it for ya~?"

"I- I don't-"

The way you sauntered up to him made him trip over himself, falling onto the floor.

"Don't tell me big bad Yakuza is a virgin~"

"I-I'm not-"

You put your foot on his crotch, making him gasp out a sharp moan.

"Then take your fucking clothes off~"

Slowly and shakily, he started taking off his shirt and pants, leaving on his briefs. He… Didn't exactly like the way he looked now, his arms being mostly synthetic, making him extremely self-conscious. Your voice snapped him out of it.

"Hey, quite gettin' in your own head and get over here!"

He hadn't even seen you get on his bed, laying on your back, your legs spread. He felt his face heat up, before he made it to you.

"Quit starin'."

"Yes…" His head snapped down, and he closed his eyes when he realised it.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and you knew it.

"Now what am I gonna do with you… Usually you're so obedient, it wouldn't feel right to really punish you… But, you have been staring at me for a while, huh~?"

Kai nodded, "Fuckin' answer me when I talk to you!"

You were always loud, but not like this. It made him… "Fuck- Yes, I've been staring at you for weeks…"

You purred, moving to sit up in front of him, while he sat on his knees.

"You dirty little slut, you probably got off while watching me work, huh?"

He could feel his dick twitch when you spoke to him like that, but he answered.

"N-no, I didn't…."

"Why?"

He didn't answer you for a moment, and you raised your voice again, "Answer me, slut!"

"I haven't touched myself with these hands…! I…. I can't."

You laughed cruelly, "Ooh, poor little bitch hasn't been able to get himself off because he's scared~"

Why did he like this so much? He couldn't even think of an answer before you spoke again, "Well, here's your chance~"

He looked up at you at that, confused.

"Don't give me that look, I know you're not fuckin' stupid. I want you to touch yourself~"

This had to be a joke-

"I'll even help you, because I'm so nice~"

You moved again, getting up and moving behind him, and before he could ask what you were doing, you pushed him down. Kai caught himself on all fours, but feeling you press against him made his questions die in his throat. He felt your hands trail from his shoulders to his deltoids, before trailing down his prosthetic arms, grabbing his wrists.

"I know you know how to do this, but I'll give you a reminder~"

After you whispered that, you moved your hand and his, stopping right at the line of his briefs.

"Come on, take your dick out."

Kai did as you told him, holding his hard cock in his hand, your hand wrapped around him as well. He shuddered at the feeling, simultaneously feeling more aroused than ever, and humiliated all the same. Feeling you squeeze his hand, and in turn his dick, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Do I have to do everything for you? Christ, I literally have to hold your hand while you jack off, this is fuckin' pathetic you know~"

Feeling you pull his hand up his dick, and back down, he shuddered again. While you moved his arm, your other arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him back to sit on your lap. You kept guiding his hand at a slow pace, which was torture while you grinded on him and bit at his neck. His gasping only increased while his eyes rolled back.

"Ha, you're drooling princess- Gross~"

He shut his eyes while you sped up, your other hand playing with his nipples. His breathing got faster, and his gasps slowly turned in to quiet moans, his eyes shut tight while his mouth opened and-

When you suddenly pulled away his hand, he cried out in protest, tears pricking his eyes.

"No no no please please f-fucking please don't-"

"Who the hell are you to be making demands~?"

He couldn't even see you behind him, but he could feel you grinding against his ass, your hold on his wrist tight. He whined again, small tears falling while he caught his breath, coming down from what was almost the best orgasm of his life. He heard you laugh, before he felt you lick his tears.

"Don't be such a cry baby, sweetness… This is your punishment~"

You pushed him down again, getting him off of you, so you could get up and get dressed. You were really going to leave him like this…

"Don't worry, if you're good, I'll make sure you get a reward, but for now, deal with it."

When you turned to walk out, you stopped.

"Oh, and if I find out you touched yourself again, and you cum? You can bet your sweet ass I'll be punishing you a hell of a lot worse."

He nodded, before you snapped your fingers, making him look at you- He bit back a squeak.

"Y-yes… I won't- Won't touch myself…"

You smirked, "That's a good boy~"

Tags: @slayersins @shadowsandshapes @dabislittlemouse @shockinglysubmissive @starstruck-flames @daniidil

[tikosblogg]

My Hero..

Summary: you get dragged to a house party and end up having a panic attack, when you run into Noah.

Warnings: just fluffy cuteness, mentions of anxiety, panic attack.

A/N: thought this was a cute idea❤️

As I stepped into the dimly lit house, the pulsing music crashed over me like a wave, enveloping me in a cacophony of noise. My friends had begged me to come to this party, insisting it would be a night filled with laughter and fun. But the moment I crossed the threshold, the walls of the crowded room began to close in, suffocating me with an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

The house was packed with strangers, their laughter mixing with the heavy bass of the music. I could feel my heart racing, pounding in my chest as my breath quickened. I’m not a party person; I had known this. But their pleas had drawn me in, and now I was regretting it. I pushed my way through the throng, my 5’2” frame feeling lost in the towering bodies around me. My eyes darted from face to face, searching for an escape, but all I could see was an endless sea of unfamiliarity.

“Just breathe,” I whispered to myself, but even the words felt useless as my heart hammered louder. I could feel tears prickling in my eyes, and before I knew it, they began to spill down my cheeks. That was when I collided with a solid wall, or rather, a person. I instinctively looked up, my breath hitching painfully in my throat.

The man towering over me was a stark contrast to my petite figure. He stood at least a foot taller with shaggy brown hair that framed his face and a tapestry of tattoos blanketing his arms, and throat. My mind raced through a myriad of thoughts, but one thing was clear — I felt so small, so frail against him. “I’m so sorry,” I managed to stammer, my voice barely a whisper. My hands trembled as they clutched the fabric of my shirt.

His expression changed from confusion to concern in a heartbeat. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, leaning down slightly to meet my gaze. The kindness in his voice cut through the chaos, grounding me, but I shook my head vigorously, unable to form words.

“It’s just — I- uh- so m-any people,” I finally managed to breathe out, my voice quaking. The realization that I was having a panic attack washed over me like a tide.

Without hesitation, the tall man reached out, his hands gently grabbing my hips. “I got you,” he said firmly, and before I could react, he hoisted me over his shoulder. I squeaked in surprise, my breath catching as he pushed through the crowd, calling out, “Excuse me! Coming through!”

I instinctively wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face into his back, where the scent of laundry detergent mixed with something fresh and earthy. The rush of movement took me outside, where the air struck my skin like a cool balm.

He set me down onto a soft patio couch, his presence still looming large as he squatted down in front of me. The lights from inside pulsated, casting a warm glow behind him, but I focused on his face. “Okay, what’s your name?” he asked, his tone gentle as he carefully observed my trembling form.

“Y-y/n,” I said, the name slipping from my trembling lips almost shyly. His warm smile returned, easing some of the fear clenching my heart.

“I’m Noah,” he replied, and I could see the sincerity in his brown eyes, a striking contrast to the inked skin that told stories of adventures I could only imagine.

Noah’s presence offered a cocoon of calm. “Can you tell me five things you can see?” he asked, a technique I recognized from my readings on anxiety coping methods. My heart was still racing, but I nodded slowly, willing to engage.

“Um,” I started, looking around the expansive patio. “Those string lights overhead,” I said, pointing to the fairy lights strung above, glowing softly. “And… the trees.” I took a deep breath, my voice gaining strength. “There’s a ceramic pot with flowers near the end of the couch, and… the stars.” I hesitated for a moment, searching for that fifth thing. “And… you. Your tattoos.”

Noah’s eyes softened as a smile spread across his face, and I felt a little piece of the tension within me dissipate. “You doin great, y/n,” he said, his voice like a warm blanket wrapping around me.

“Thank you,” I replied, my cheeks warming under his gaze. It felt strange to connect with someone in such a chaotic environment, but somehow, sitting on this patio, it felt safe — comforting, I noticed my breathing going back to normal.

“I hate crowded places, too,” he confessed, leaning back slightly. "I come to parties to a lot, but honestly, I’d rather be elsewhere."

“Then why are you here?” I asked suspiciously, still internally debating the wisdom of even coming to a party at all.

“I was dragged here by my my best friend,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But now I think I’m somewhere better.”

My heart swelled a little. It was refreshing, and maybe a bit reassuring, to share this moment with someone who understood. “Yeah, me too,” I confessed, feeling the next few breaths settling into a new rhythm.

“Do you want to talk about something else?” he suggested, his eyes sparkly with mischief. “Books? Movies? Or maybe we could brainstorm ways to escape parties in the future?”

I laughed, a real sound that surprising me. I couldn’t help but smile at him, meeting him made this night a lot more bearable.