#why are you all here!!!!! get out of my head!!!!!!!

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe coming home to an unexpected visitor...

Y/n sat on the couch, her baby gently cradled in her arms as she swayed back and forth, humming softly to soothe her. It was the end of a long day, and despite the overwhelming joy of motherhood, she was hoping that Rafe would come back home soon so she could have five minutes of ‘mommy time’. He had to leave today, much to his complaints, to go and check up on the Cameron Development office. She had encouraged him, why wouldn’t she? She knew how hard he had worked to get where he is, but it felt weird being alone with their daughter, the absence of his everyday presence for the past month was going to take a while to adapt to. Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door- a loud, insistent knock that echoed through the house. The voice that followed was unmistakable,

“C’mon, country club I ain’t got all day.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile, recognising the familiar tone of Barry’s voice. She shifted the baby gently in her arms and rose to answer the door. When Y/n had first met Barry, she had been skeptical. After all, the guy was a drug dealer, and she knew well enough that people in that line of work weren’t exactly known for their warm personalities or moral compass. At first, she had kept her distance, unsure of how to navigate the relationship between Rafe's closest friend and herself. But over time, Y/n realised that Barry was a little different from what she had expected. He had never once treated her like an outsider, and while his exterior remained tough, he always showed her respect. Barry wasn’t as bad as people said. 

In fact, they actually got along quite well.

As she opened the door, Barry stood on the other side, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes immediately flicked to the baby in her arms, but his expression remained unreadable.

“Hey Barry,” Y/n greeted, her voice soft and calm, “Rafe’s not back yet.”

Barry blinked, clearly surprised for a moment, then let out a low laugh. “Shi, my bad, princess,” he said, adjusting the weight of the bag he had slung over his shoulder. 

“Wasn’t expectin' a welcome party.”

Y/n chuckled lightly and stepped aside to let him in. “You wanna come in? Rafe’ll be back in a bit- well I think...” Barry hesitated for a brief second, looking past her into the house before nodding. 

“Aight, why not.”

Barry’s heavy footsteps filtered through the halls of Tannyhill, as he plopped himself down onto the couch getting comfortable, bag once slung over his shoulder now shrugged to the floor. Y/n navigated over to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door, the cool air brushed past her face as her eyes scanned the shelves. She reached for a chilled pitcher of lemonade, balancing it with one hand while adjusting the baby’s position with the other. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she poured the liquid with practiced ease, the sound of it filling the quiet between Barry’s heavy sighs from the living room.

“Here” 

She said softly, making her way back to him. With the baby still cradled in her arm, she handed him the glass. Barry took it, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the lemonade. 

“No beer?” 

He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly as she side eyed him, her head tilting just enough to give Barry a look that was equal parts warning and amusement. 

“Don��t push your luck” 

She murmured, her voice light but firm. Barry chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. 

“Aight, aight, my bad mama” 

He said, leaning back into the couch, the grin still plastered on his face. She rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her as it tugged at her lips. Y/n eased herself onto the large couch, careful not to jostle the baby, who had begun to settle against her chest. Barry glanced over, taking a sip of the lemonade. 

“You make this?” he asked, she gave him a glance, as she nodded, “mhmm.”

“S’good,”

He admitted, leaning forward to set the empty glass on the coffee table. As he looked to her his gaze softened slightly, he glanced at the baby in her arms, though he quickly masked it with his usual neutral expression. 

“Man, Country Club got lucky with you," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "ain’t no clue how he did that.”

Y/n chuckled softly, her hand gently patting the baby’s back as her little hand fisted her mother’s top. “He’s lucky, all right,” she agreed, looking down at her little girl, “but I think it’s the other way around most days.”

Barry raised an eyebrow at her, his expression changing a little as he took in the sight of her with the baby, a quiet respect in his eyes that he didn't often show. He cleared his throat, leaning back slightly in his seat as he tried to keep his usual tough-guy persona intact. His voice was quieter than usual, and Y/n caught the subtle shift, the care hidden beneath his typically gruff tone,

“How she doin'? Been a lotta noise in here tonight.” 

“She’s good. Just a little fussy,” Y/n replied, smiling softly at the baby, “She’s usually like this around bedtime, but I also think she just misses her daddy…”

Barry grunted, nodding as he looked down at the baby in her arms again, the similarity between the little girl and Rafe was uncanny. The baby had inherited Rafe's striking blue eyes and even her furrowed brow mirrored Rafe's intense expressions, a trait that often unsettled those around him. It was as if a smaller, innocent version of Rafe was cradled in Y/n's arms. Suddenly, a wave of urgency hit Y/n. She gnawed at her lip as she bounced the baby in her arms slightly before she sat up on the couch moving towards Barry, speaking out,

 “Hey, uh, do you mind holding her for a second? I really need to use the bathroom-”

Barry blinked, eyebrows furrowing in hesitation as she now stood in front of him, still gently rocking the baby in her arms.

“Listen, princess, I ain’t ever held no baby 'fore” 

He said, his voice slightly tight, clearly uncomfortable at the thought. Y/n laughed softly before shaking her head, “It’s just for a minute. I’ll be right back. Please?” She shifted the baby in her arms, her gaze imploring. After a beat, Barry sighed heavily, hand rubbing over his face, though there was no real anger in his tone. 

“Shi, alright, I’ll hold her.”

With some reluctance from him, Y/n carefully passed the baby to Barry, watching closely as he took her into his arms. He held her awkwardly at first, unsure of how to manage such a fragile little thing, but Y/n gave him a reassuring smile before quickly heading toward the bathroom.

As she disappeared into the other room, Barry shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more natural hold on the baby. His hands moved cautiously, but as he adjusted, the baby made a little noise- a content huff- and he relaxed a little. He glanced down at the little face staring up at him, and for a second, his usual bravado slipped. As he adjusted, the baby let out a soft coo and her tiny hand reached up, instinctively grasping one of his fingers.

Barry froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as the little hand curled around his finger. His face softened, a rare, almost tender expression crossing his features. He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring the baby was comfortable, and for a moment, he just stared at her with something close to awe in his gaze.

“Shi-,” he muttered under his breath. “You kinda cute, huh?”

Rafe walked into the living room, a bag of takeout in his hand, ready to settle in for a quiet evening. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

There, on the sofa, sat Barry- his usually hard-edged friend, the man who’d never been the type to do anything too tender or gentle. And yet, there he was, with Rafe’s baby girl cradled in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Barry was leaning back against the cushions, completely at ease now, the baby cooing softly in his hands. His gaze was softer than Rafe had ever seen, his usually sharp and intimidating presence replaced with a strange calmness as he looked down at the little girl. Rafe’s initial shock quickly faded into a mix of amusement and disbelief. He raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room with a quiet chuckle. Just as he was about to say something, Y/n appeared at the doorway walking to Rafe, looking over at the scene with a smile that immediately softened her features.

“Aww, Rafe, look at that,” 

She said, her voice full of affection as she watched Barry with their baby. Rafe paused, his eyes flicking from his daughter to Barry, then back again. A grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arm around Y/n’s side. 

“I think we got ourselves a new babysitter,” he teased. Barry’s eyes narrowed, and with his usual bluntness, he shot back, 

“Shut yo bitch ass up”

“Hey! Watch your mouth in front of my daughter”

He said, his tone playful but with an edge of protection. Barry raised an eyebrow, but the tension broke when he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, yeah- we best friends now, ain't we cuz?”

He muttered, turning his attention to the baby cradled in his arms. The baby blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes, her tiny mouth opening in a silent "O" before a soft, contented coo bubbled out. Her little fists wiggled, and she kicked her legs faintly, her whole body giving that jerky, uncoordinated movement typical of a baby her age. Barry’s grin widened as he pointed to her. 

“See that?

Rafe shook his head, a faint laugh rising from his chest, “Man, she doesn’t even know who you are yet.”

“Nah, nah-” he replied confidently, leaning back on the couch. “She knows her uncle Barry, don't ya sweetheart.”

The baby let out another soft sound, something between a sigh and a happy gurgle, her tiny face scrunching in what could almost pass as a smile. Y/n laughed softly at the exchange, moving closer to the couch, with Rafe close behind her, his arms around her waist as they two looked down at their daughter. Y/n looked at Barry, her expression warm. 

“You’re good with her, Barry,” she said, a note of gratitude in her voice.

Barry gave a small shrug, his usual tough-guy persona slipping back into place, but there was a subtle softness in his eyes as he looked down at the baby. 

“She’s cool,” he said, his voice gruff but genuine, “ain’t as bad as people think.”

Rafe rested his head against Y/n’s as he watched his friend, amused. He teased, eyeing Barry with a grin. 

“Just don’t get too attached.”

[chrissssssmut]

Yours to Keep

Jang Wonyoung and Naoi Rei x Male Reader

You didn’t expect much when you transferred to GANGYU high school in Korea. All you wanted was a quiet life. To blend into the background, keep your head down, and focus on getting through the year without trouble. But from the moment you stepped into the classroom, your fate was sealed.  

Jang Wonyoung and Naoi Rei—the golden duo of the school. Everyone knew them. Everyone feared them. And for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, they had decided to make you their target.  

---

The bullying started small.  

“Oops.” Wonyoung’s syrupy voice dripped with faux innocence as she brushed past you in the hallway, knocking your books to the floor. You bent down to pick them up, and before you could even process what was happening, her foot pressed down on the corner of your notebook, holding it in place.  

“Careful,” she purred, looking down at you with those sharp, doll-like eyes. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”  

Behind her, Rei snickered. “You’re lucky Wonyoung’s even acknowledging you. Most people don’t even notice trash on the floor.”  

Your face burned as you forced yourself to remain silent. You grabbed your notebook the moment Wonyoung lifted her foot and walked away, their mocking laughter following you down the hall.  

---

It escalated quickly after that.  

During class, they’d whisper loudly about you, just loud enough for everyone to hear.  

“Did you see Y/N’s shoes today? They look like something out of the bargain bin,” Wonyoung would say, her voice filled with derision.  

Rei would lean closer to her, pretending to stifle a laugh. “I think my dog’s leash costs more than his entire outfit.”  

You wanted to defend yourself, but what could you say? They were the queens of the school. Even the teachers seemed to favor them, always turning a blind eye to their antics.  

---

The breaking point came during lunch one day.  

You sat at the farthest table in the cafeteria, hoping to avoid them. But of course, they found you.  

“Why are you sitting all the way back here?” Wonyoung asked, sliding into the seat across from you. Her long legs stretched out under the table, brushing against yours deliberately.  

“Trying to avoid us?” Rei added, sitting down beside you. You flinched as her shoulder pressed into yours, her proximity suffocating.  

“N-No, I just—” you stammered, but Wonyoung cut you off with a laugh.  

“Of course you’re not,” she said, leaning forward. Her hand reached out to grab your chin, tilting your head up so you were forced to look at her. “You’d never ignore us, would you? That would be rude.”  

Rei smirked, her hand snaking around your wrist under the table. Her grip was tighter than necessary, and you couldn’t pull away. “You’re ours, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”  

“I don’t understand why you even try to resist,” Wonyoung continued, her voice sickly sweet. “You should just accept it. You’re nothing without us. Nothing.”  

---

The days blurred together after that.  

They followed you everywhere, making it impossible to avoid them. In class, they’d throw paper at the back of your head or kick your chair just to get your attention. During breaks, they’d “accidentally” bump into you, spilling your drink or knocking your food tray to the floor.  

“Clean that up,” Wonyoung ordered one day, crossing her arms as she looked down at the mess she had caused.  

You hesitated, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Did I stutter?”  

Rei crouched beside you, her voice low and threatening. “Do you really want to make her mad? You should be grateful we’re even paying attention to you.”  

---

But then, the bullying started to feel... different.  

It wasn’t just humiliation anymore. It was control. Possession.  

They began isolating you from everyone else. Anyone who tried to befriend you was met with icy glares and whispered threats.  

One girl in your class, Minji, tried to partner with you for a project. The next day, she avoided you like the plague.  

“Minji won’t be bothering you anymore,” Rei said with a satisfied smile when you confronted her. “You don’t need anyone else, Y/N. You have us.”  

Wonyoung leaned against your desk, her hair falling over her shoulder as she stared down at you. “We’re all you need. Don’t you agree?”  

---

The nights were the worst.  

You’d find messages on your phone, even though you hadn’t given them your number.  

“Did you eat dinner? You can’t skip meals without our permission.”  

“Don’t think we don’t know where you are.”  

“Sweet dreams, Y/N. Don’t forget you belong to us.”  

One night, you woke up to the sound of your window rattling. Your heart raced as you got up to check, only to find a note taped to the glass.  

*“You’re ours. Don’t forget it.”*  

The handwriting was unmistakable.  

---

They had you cornered, completely and utterly.  

“You don’t need freedom,” Wonyoung said one day, her voice soft but firm. She stood in front of you, her arms crossed as Rei leaned against your locker, watching you with that unnerving gaze.  

“You’re better off this way,” Rei added, her tone almost gentle. “You’re ours, Y/N. And we take care of what’s ours.”  

Your chest felt tight as you looked between them, their words sinking into your skin like poison.  

You didn’t know what scared you more—their obsession or the fact that, deep down, a part of you was starting to believe them.  

Because no matter how much you tried to resist, to escape their grasp, there was no denying the truth: Wonyoung and Rei had you exactly where they wanted you. Your life is theirs to torment. Forever.

And there was no way out.  

*End.* 

[missdynamighttt]

random idea: the paparazzi take photos of Bakugou while he is naked in the courtyard of his mansion. The photos are viral all around the world, trends everywhere (imagine PopCrave tweeting about that, lol). The it tophic with the most viral tweet exceeds 600,000 likes since obviously what caught the most attention was the immense, almost inhuman Bakugou's cock size: almost 8 inches without even being hard. The only question everyone is asking is how the hell it will be while being hard.

But Bakugou is surprisingly chill about this, proud even. He logs into his Twitter account for the first time ever, which was created and managed by his public relations team (I don't know how it's called) and simply tweets:

"My wife owns that." The bastard even has it pinned on his profile. It doesn't take long for it to be his most liked tweet and with the time reach one million likes. Other weeks of trends about him...But also about his girl. She's lucky asf.

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ SHAMELESS KATSUKI ENJOYERRR!! happy chinese new year to anyone who celebrates it btw 💜💜

you storm into the living room, phone clutched in your hand, cheeks burning as you glare at your husband lounging on the couch, scrolling through his own phone like he didn’t just set the internet on fire over his soft, 8 inch dick.

“you—” you point at him accusingly, eyes wild. “you absolute fucking bastard.”

katsuki glances up from his phone, his expression is the definition of being so fucking smug. “what is it, sweetheart?”

“oh, i don't know, katsuki. maybe its the fact that the entire world just saw your dick, and instead of just, oh, i don’t know, taking legal action or being embarrassed, you tweeted—” you glance at your phone to quote him exactly, voice going pitches higher with each word. “‘my wife owns that.’ and pinned it.”

his lips twitch, but he keeps it cool. “and?"

you gape at him. “and?! katsuki, the world has seen you naked! and instead of being mad or contacting your pr team about this, you’re out here, tweeting this shit, like you’re proud of it!”

his smirk only widens. “tch, ‘cause i am proud.” he leans back, stretching, muscles flexing like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “not my fault the whole world can’t handle what you get every night.”

your brain short-circuits. “oh my god.”

you knew he was shameless, but this? this is a whole new level. and what makes it worse are the comments. thousands of people speculating, thirsting, straight-up praying to be in your place.

you whimper dramatically. “the comments, katsuki. the comments.”

he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “what about ‘em?”

“people keep saying i must be the luckiest woman alive,” you mutter, glancing at other tweets with an ungodly number of likes, like ”his wife must be the happiest woman on earth” or "the girl must’ve saved a nation in her past life", followed by an entire thread of inappropriate lewd theories (some were true).

katsuki snickers. “well, they ain’t wrong.”

you slap his arm, face on fire. “stop! have you really no shame?"

“none,” he grins before finally putting his phone down, sitting up, his arms resting on his knees. “why? you mad, sugar?”

“no! i mean—well, i should be! do you have any idea what people are saying about me?"

“yeah, they’re saying you’re lucky as fuck. and they’re right.”

you groan, rubbing your temples in frustration. “they’re also saying things like ‘she must be getting split in half every night’ or ‘"his wife must be in heaven every night'."

he throws his head back in a full laugh. “good. let ‘em know.”

you smack his arm. “katsuki!”

he chuckles and reaches for you, catching your wrist and tugging you down onto his lap with such ridiculous ease. “why’re you gettin’ so worked up, huh? it’s the truth.” his voice drops lower as he leans in. “and they don’t even know half of it.”

you groan, burying your face again in his chest. “i hate you.”

“nah,” he murmurs, nipping at your neck. “you know you love me, sugar.”

and damn it, you do. but you’ll never admit it right now—not when he's kissing you down your neck, pressing what the internet has been buzzing about against your damp panties. especially not when he’s being the most shameless, loving husband on the planet.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[gloomwitchwrites]

Another one (said to the tune of dj khaled)

What if/imagine...have you ever seen the tiktok/reel where the SO randomly knocks something out of the others hands and walks away? Ex. price is sitting on the couch looking at his phone and you just walk by and knock it out of his hands and keep going.

It's meant to be playful, not hurting or damaging any object. It's definitely a way to get someone's attention. 🤣

Another is right. I have such a list to get through I feel like I cannot stay organize lmao. I love a good prank. I love a good, non-malicious prank. I love pulling said prank on one (all) the 141. Hilarious. Amazing. Give me more. Thank you for dropping into my inbox with this little gem. <3

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, flirting, suggestive themes, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John relaxes on the sofa, cellphone in hand, fingers tapping away at the screen. He’s in his own world, either chatting away with someone or playing a silly little game.

What’s a bit of fun? A little disturbance in routine? You’re always teasing him in one way or another. This is just another opportunity.

With as much nonchalance as you can muster, you stroll past him and knock his phone out his hand. It’s not hard, or aggressive, more like a cat pushing something off the top shelf.

He clears his throat. “Right. If that’s how you want to behave, dove.”

John slowly stands, smoothing the front of his shirt in a causal gesture. It’s far too calm for him, which means you’re in trouble.

As you pause just inside the hall, you step behind the wall, using it as a defensive barrier. The only part of you that’s visible is the upper half of your body. You don’t dare speak as John’s head swivels in your direction. There isn’t anger or frustration, but a tiny smirk, hinting at amusement.

“You have my attention, love” he purrs. “Thought I was ignoring you?”

You swallow as he takes a step forward.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is perched in front of the television, gaming controller in his hands. It’s entirely likely that he’s on with Kyle, perhaps even Simon. He has his headset on, talking rapidly as his character moves around on the screen.

Even while on leave, he’s playing games that resemble what he does for a living.

“On the left. That’s it.”

He’s far too focused on the screen to notice that you’ve moved closer to him. You wait on purpose, watching for an opportune moment. Johnny’s gaze is razor-sharp, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as the screen hordes all his concentration.

“I’m down.”

The screen shifts as his character is respawned. Just as he returns, you lean in and smack the controller out of his hands. It clatters to the floor. His character is promptly killed again. As it respawns, Johnny twists to glance at you.

“I’ll be back, mates,” he says just before removing his headset.

“You,” he says, the shock turning into mischievousness. “You naughty little thing.” Johnny launches himself at you, jumping over the back of the sofa like it’s no effort at all.

You take off, cackling.

“Come here,” he shouts. “Putting you over my knee.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

As you poke your head into the bathroom, you find Simon standing in front of the mirror. He notices you watching him but says nothing, going about his morning routine as he always does.

There’s an idea brewing in your head, a small torment, a little fun. The thing about Simon is that he’s sturdy and relatively passive about most things. He’s the stoic one. The calm one. Nothing phases him.

Which is why it’s easy to gather up the courage to be a little naughty—to act out.

Simon retrieves his toothbrush and adds a dollop of mint toothpaste. Running it under the faucet for a brief second, he brings it to his mouth. As he brushes his teeth, you take a small step inside. Simon doesn’t react, just continues about his business.

When he goes to put the toothbrush back under the water, you reach out, snatching the toothbrush right out of his hand. You pop it into your mouth and begin brushing your teeth with it.

Simon freezes, and then slowly turns in your direction. You cock an eyebrow, daring him to say something.

He doesn’t. Simon opens a drawer and retrieves a brand-new toothbrush, completely unbothered.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle lifts his arm, remote pointed at the television. On days like this, it’s the perfect opportunity to be a little cheeky. Nothing stirs the pot like poking at Kyle’s buttons. It’s never in maliciousness. If anything, it’s to get what you want, which is Kyle’s attention. And he’s always happy to give it when you’re acting bratty.

As he ups the volume of the rugby game, you pass directly in front of him, snatching the remote, turning the television off, and tossing the remote onto the recliner nearby. Kyle blinks, arms still raised and pointed at the television as if he’s frozen in time.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Kyle’s labored sigh.

“You know,” he chuckles. “If you want my attention, love, just say so.”

You glance over your shoulder as you enter the hallway. Kyle has a languid, flirty expression on his face. The remote is ignored as he stands, hands already grasping his shirt, removing it from his body. Taut muscle is revealed, and a sudden heat blooms in your belly.

You certainly have all his attention now.

Kyle takes a step forward, discarding the shirt. “Thinking we need a little lesson on behavior, yeah?”

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[kashverse]

sukuna, for all his ruthlessness, for all his "king of the corporate world" nonsense, is a hopeless man when it comes to you. so when your birthday rolls around, it’s obvious what he’s going to do. "a thousand roses," he declares, arms crossed, smirking. "biggest fucking bouquet in the world. it’s gonna—"

"no."

he blinks. looks down. his daughter, all of five years old, stares up at him, hands on her hips, expression dead serious. "no?" he repeats, incredulous. "no what?"

she lifts a tiny finger. "no roses."

"the hell do you mean, no roses?"

"bad word!" she yells.

he sighs. "fine, fine—heck do you mean, no roses?"

she frowns, tapping her chin. "mama already gets roses. mama should get something cool." sukuna squints at her. "…like?"

his daughter suddenly beams. "LEGO!"

pause.

"…you want me to get your mom a lego set for her birthday?"

she nods enthusiastically.

sukuna, a grown-ass man, has never been stared down by someone so tiny and felt so defeated. "…fine," he mutters, rubbing his temples. "lego it is."

so that’s how he finds himself sitting at the dining table with his daughter at 11 pm the night before your birthday, helping her put together a lego flower bouquet.

"alright, gimme the little green stem—"

"papa, no! that not where it go!"

sukuna looks at her. then at the piece in his hand. then at the instruction booklet.

"…yeah, it is."

"no, it go here!" she insists, slapping his hand away and shoving the piece in the completely wrong spot. he stares at it. he stares at her.

"that’s not where it goes."

"yes it is," she says confidently.

"no, it fucking isn’t—"

"BAD WORD!"

he groans. "—no, it freaking isn’t!"

she glares at him.

he glares back.

…then sighs.

"fine," he mutters, leaning back. "you’re the boss."

"yes," she nods. "i am."

he exhales, watching as she enthusiastically shoves pieces together. she suddenly pauses.

"papa."

"what?"

"we add angel and labubu."

"why?"

"protection."

he stares at her. then, without a word, he gets up, goes to her hoard of sonny angels and labubus, and hands her two of them. she grins, placing them carefully on either side of the bouquet. "perfect," she declares.

when you come home, exhausted from work, you’re immediately ambushed by your daughter.

"MAMA!"

"happy birthday," sukuna calls lazily from the couch, arms crossed behind his head. before you can respond, your daughter shoves the lego bouquet into your hands, bouncing excitedly.

"LOOK!"

you blink, taking it in. a full lego flower bouquet, colorful, adorable, and—

"…is that a sonny angel and labubu?"

"yes!" she nods aggressively. "they keep it safe!" you laugh, heart swelling, before crouching down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "baby, this is amazing," you grin. "thank you!"

"papa helped!" she says, beaming. you look up at sukuna, amused. "you built legos?" he grunts. "against my will."

your daughter gasps dramatically. "papa! you like it!"

"…i tolerated it," he mutters.

"you LOVE it!"

"alright, chill out," he grumbles, ruffling her hair.

you shake your head, placing the bouquet on the table. "best gift ever," you say sincerely, smiling at them both. sukuna watches you. then, quietly, he smirks. "yeah," he mutters. "best gift ever."

[solxamber]

Platonic heartslabyul with fem!Yuu who managed to memorize ALL the rules because she hyperfixated on it. It's a new universe so why not study their customs?

it ended up gender neutral, hope that's okay!

Memorizing the Queen's Rules with Heartslabyul

Ace Trappola

At first, Ace thought your ability to quote the rules on demand was a joke. Then, it became the bane of his existence.

"Hey, it’s not a big deal if I sneak just one tart out of here!" he’d say, already halfway to the door.

"Rule #142: No pastries shall leave the premises of the tea party unless explicitly authorized," you’d insist, crossing your arms and blocking his path like an unyielding wall of justice.

Ace groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. "Why do you even know that? Who memorizes all the rules?!"

"Someone who doesn’t want to end up collared for your nonsense."

He tried to get clever, testing your limits by bending obscure rules. Once, he brought a banana to a tea party.

"You realize Rule #53 bans bananas at tea parties, right?"

Ace stared, mouth agape. "That’s not real. You’re making that up."

"It’s real. Page 47 of the rulebook," you replied with a satisfied grin.

At that moment, Ace realized he could never outsmart you. Begrudgingly, he admitted, "You’re terrifying. I’m never crossing you."

Of course, that didn’t stop him from trying to prank you. But the look on his face every time you countered him with the correct rule was priceless.

Deuce Spade

Deuce was equal parts impressed and intimidated by your encyclopedic knowledge of Heartslabyul law.

"Wait, so… Rule #317 says I can’t use my left hand to pour tea unless it’s Tuesday?" he asked, staring at the teapot like it had betrayed him.

"Correct. It’s Wednesday, so put it down," you replied, barely glancing up from your notes.

Deuce’s determination to follow the rules skyrocketed thanks to you. He started coming to you for advice on everything.

"Is it okay if I use a spoon to eat this tart instead of a fork? I don’t want to mess up!"

You paused. "Technically, Rule #223 says forks are preferred, but spoons are acceptable if no forks are available."

Deuce sighed in relief. "Thanks, prefect. You’re like my personal tutor for dorm survival."

He became your staunchest supporter, often citing your knowledge to back up his own actions. When Ace tried to sneak an extra tart, Deuce would immediately shout, "Rule #142! You can’t do that!"

"Juice, no one likes a snitch," Ace grumbled.

"I like them," you said, giving Deuce a thumbs-up.

Deuce beamed.

Trey Clover

Trey found your obsession with the rules both amusing and endearing.

"You’re the first person I’ve met who rivals Riddle’s knowledge of the rulebook," he said one day as you adjusted the spacing between roses in the garden.

"Someone has to uphold the standards," you replied, squinting at a rosebush. "This one’s two centimeters too close to the other."

Trey chuckled, leaning against his spade. "You know, not even Riddle notices stuff like that."

"Then it’s a good thing I’m here," you said matter-of-factly, pulling out your measuring tape.

Trey quickly realized you were also a fantastic mediator. Whenever Riddle’s temper flared, you calmly cited rules to de-escalate the situation.

"Rule #405: forgiveness is encouraged for first offenses," you’d say, placing a hand on Riddle’s shoulder.

"Fine," Riddle would huff, storming off.

Trey gave you a knowing smile. "You’re a lifesaver."

Cater Diamond

Cater thought you were hilarious. Your ability to recite rules on command made you a walking meme in his eyes.

"So, you’re like, a human rulebook?" he asked one day, phone in hand.

"Pretty much."

"Say something rule-y for my Magicam!" he said, already recording.

You rolled your eyes but played along. "Rule #98: no singing at tea parties unless the Queen of Hearts requests it."

Cater doubled over laughing.

He constantly teased you about your rule knowledge but secretly found it impressive. Anytime he needed an excuse to get out of trouble, he’d turn to you.

"Uh, is there a rule that says I can skip cleaning duty if my phone dies?"

"No, but nice try," you replied.

Still, he loved having you around, especially when you used your rule expertise to put Ace in his place.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle was in awe of you.

"You’ve memorized all 810 rules?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Of course," you said, shrugging. "Why wouldn’t I?"

Riddle’s respect for you skyrocketed. You became his unofficial right-hand person, often helping him enforce the rules.

"Rule #327 clearly states that tea must be brewed at exactly 96 degrees Celsius," you said during one tea party.

"Exactly!" Riddle exclaimed. "Finally, someone understands!"

You were the only one who could occasionally talk him down when he went overboard.

"Rule #512 says punishments should fit the crime," you reminded him gently.

Riddle adjusted his gloves, looking sheepish. "You’re absolutely correct. As always."

He even started consulting you for rule interpretations, trusting your judgment implicitly.

"Do you think Rule #600 applies here?"

"Only if you interpret it broadly," you replied.

"Brilliant," Riddle said, nodding.

To him, you were a paragon of order and discipline—a perfect addition to Heartslabyul.

Masterlist

[chobunz]

── “ shame. ” ( pjs ) ּ 𓂅 ⋆ 🗯️

๑ When jay finds out that his brother tried to make a pass at you, he’s more than furious— and he’s going to make sure that shit never happens again..

pair: possessive bf!jay ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, angst, mentions of cheating, humiliation, degrading, revenge, jay is pretty toxic and kinda mean in this, spanking, spitting, facial masks (iykyk), daddy kink, video recording, jay acting like nothing happened after, doing it in his jake’s bed (…yikes), sweet aftermath | words: 2.3k

a/n. this is a repost of an older fic that i deleted but fixed some parts so i like this one a lot better <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“it’s not what it looked like, jay !” “i promise it was nothing..” you attempt to try and explain yourself but the damage has already been done, knowing the ‘calm’ look he upheld on his features was anything but calm. your boyfriend has always been the crazy jealous type, especially when it’s over you. you were terrified of the outcome, of what he might end up doing. you had no idea what he was going to do to his younger brother, but you just prayed to the heaven’s above that nothing bad will happen to him.

jay sat manspread on the off-white leather sofa, staring blankly at your begging shape beneath him. so many thoughts were racing in his head all at once, he wasn’t sure whether to be more angry at you or his brother. what the hell were you even trying to protect him for? why were you so locked in on making sure jake doesn’t get hurt? all this pleading and crying over someone who made sexual advances towards you ? did you like it ? were you enjoying all the attention ??

he feels as though he’s been betrayed, not only by you but his own fucking brother at that. yet he still wants answers from you, he wants to know why you’d let him even say those things to you in the first place. granted they were just text messages but that still didn’t make it right, it was more than obvious that jake was trying to flirt with you. jay saw the messages himself, going through your phone while you were in the shower to see if you were hiding something; he noticed you’ve been acting different lately and wondered if there was anyone else in the picture. he had no idea it’d be jake of all fucking people.

after seeing those messages, he’s now fully convinced himself that you fucked jake but you’ve already expressed to him multiple times that you didn’t. he refuses to believe you though, he just thinks you’re covering up for him— which only pissed him off even more; and since jake isn’t here yet, why not just take out all his anger on you instead ?

“you’re not understanding, everyone says that cliché shit, y/n.”

“why are you so worried about him ? worry about your damn self.” jay aggressively spat. “you’re just gonna let him talk to you like that and not even tell him to stop once ? did you forget that you have a whole boyfriend ? guess i never really mattered to you after all.” he put you in your place, making you feel even worse for your actions.

you’ve lost count how many times you’ve profusely apologized to him, on your knees in front of him as you plea for forgiveness. you’d rather take all the fall and have nothing happen to jake, you know it’d get really ugly if they got into a fight and jay couldn’t afford to get caught up with the police again.

“just punish me jay, please. i don’t want you to hurt jake, it’s not worth it—”

“what do i get out of not doing anything to him ?” “you want me to continue on knowing that he just casually tried to make sexual advances at my girl ? are you fucking stupid ?” he cut you off with even more harsh words. jay wasn’t having any of it, he’s already made up his mind and now he can’t get the horrifying image of you cheating on him with jake out of his mind. it just made his blood boil even more.

“no.. i just don’t wanna be the cause of ruining your relationship with him..” you paused for a second, watching as he grabbed his phone, completely dismissing your presence. “are you even listening ?” you get nothing in return but a camera being flashed in your face unexpectedly.

“pretty.. look a little more guilty though.” he chuckled to himself as he looked at the picture he took, still refusing to answer you.

“jay ! i’m trying to reason with you right now but you won’t even bother to hear me out.” your chest felt like it weighed a ton, heaving out a heavy sigh as you anxiously ran your fingers through your hair.

“go on, i’m listening.” jay finally acknowledges you again, his expressionless demeanor made you unable to read exactly what’s on his mind.

“i’ll do anything.. just, please forgive me.. baby, forgive us.” you try your best to appeal to him, clasping your hands together.

“how many times do i have to get through your head that there is no fucking ‘us’, it’s only you and fucking me. stop bringing him up. he’s not even here right now !” jay bitterly spoke at you, it was like he bit into every word before he let it bubble out of his mouth.

you could only stay quiet. what other choice did you have at this point ? it’s not like anything you’ll say will change his mind, you’ve exhausted all options.

“you want me to forgive you ? huh ?” it was barely even a second before you reacted, nodding your head eagerly. causing jay to chuckle at the helpless look on your face.

“desperate ‘n sorry, huh baby.. ? you’re the one who’s blatantly in the wrong and now you’re sitting here begging.”

he bent down, holding your chin in his grasp tightly, inching his face closer and closer to yours. “why didn’t you tell him to fuck off ? was it because you were enjoying it ? attention seeking slut.”

again you don’t utter a word back, you don’t know what to say, especially with the painful hold he has on your face. even if you told him no he’d just laugh in your face anyway, you couldn’t win no matter what you said or did. you wince to try and dismiss the pain, body shaking as tears kept falling from your puffy, reddened eyes.

“you got no god damn shame do you? do you, doll ?” before you knew it jay’s lips parted against yours, taking in your steady breaths, replacing them with heavier ones. jay put every bit of frustration he had in him into this kiss. the sounds of your lips parting only to meet again echoed around the living room.

he was sloppily devouring you, taking every bit of you that jake so desperately wants but could never have. he’s going to make sure he marks every inch of you, and make sure that you won’t be able to walk for a good week after he’s finished with you..

“fuck, get upstairs.” jay broke your savoring kiss, leaving a string of saliva dripping down the rim of your jaw. he watches a few stray tears run down your face for a moment, his pants starting to get tighter and tighter. if you didn’t look this pretty when you cried, maybe he wouldn’t be so turned on by all of this— but he thinks he’s might’ve found his newest addiction.

“but i—”

“shut up. jake’s room. now,” he rudely cuts you off, following behind you as you paced up the stairs, smacking your ass on the way up. all that’s on his mind now is fucking you so dumb until you’re completely ruined.

this felt wrong to you, doing intimate activities in someone else’s bed— his own brother’s bed to be exact. yet you were so caught into him you didn’t protest nor do a damn thing about it. you knew you’d have to face the consequences, so you’ll just have to suck it up.

๑ ๑ ๑

when jay starts unbuckling his belt, the clanking sounds send chills down your spine. looking up at him with glossy eyes, your vision blurry, but you still can clearly see his thick cock stand tall over his stomach as he lowers down his boxers. he grabs you by the arm and brings you up on your knees, only to turn you around, pushing you face down into the mattress.

jay started filming you, watching you through his phone as you jerked yourself back onto his shaft. the sound of your dewy skin slapping together arousing him even more.

“fuck.. so big..” your hand crept up to your boobs, playing with them.

“you can take it, whores like you always can,” he panned his phone around the room before focusing it onto your ass.

“mine. all fucking mine.” jay groaned as he pulled away, spanking your ass before taking his phone to set it up on a pillow. he then proceeds to show the ‘viewers’ a thumbs up with a raise of his eyebrows as if he was just casually doing a livestream.

“hurry, please baby..” you pinched and circled around your needy bud. waiting on jay’s say-so.

“don’t be fucking rude, say hi.” he points to the camera before returning his gaze to you.

you’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life, as you should be, you’re being filmed, even if you gave him consent, your head still remained low. “hi..” you mumbled, even adding a little wave.

your bare skin clung onto jay’s, arms needily hanging onto his body, begging for his touch.

“what do you want ?” jay devilishly smirked, eyeing down at you but you don’t say anything back, instead giving him a pleading look that you hoped to be understood.

“gotta use your words, closed mouths don’t get fed sweetie.”

“i want your big cock in me.. please.” you manage to cry out, hoping that he’d find some sympathy within to give you what you want.

“who’s?”

“daddy’s.. i want daddy’s big cock in me..soo bad..!” you whined, unable to bear the mess between your legs, the feel of your warm arousal dripping down your legs made your clit throb for more.

“mmh, that’s my good little slut..” he smacked his lips, tapping your thigh indicating that he wanted you to turn over and lye down.

jay dragged you by the waist, positioning you in front of the camera. checking the angles from time to time. when he finally laid eyes on the prize he felt his length tighten. how fucking pretty you looked, your puffy needy pussy. how wet you are for him. he ran his fingers through your folds, taking some of your slick to bless the camera with.

“you think she’d ever get this wet for you ?” he chuckled, licking the sweetness off his fingers before stationing himself between your thighs, the tip of his fat cock pushing at your entrance.

“oh— fuck, squeezin’ me already,” jay gasped at the tight fit. it was like taking your virginity all over again. your messy cunt swallowed him whole. but that didn’t stop him from destroying it did it. no?

he didn’t bother showing an ounce of mercy on his end, only vulgar words said beside your ear and rough hip thrusts that leave your poor hole sore and sensitive. you were delirious, unable to form a single thought as you continued to get pounded into relentlessly. you could have sworn missionary was supposed to be a ‘romantic’ position. your soft weeping and moaning was accompanied by the squelching of his length repeatedly entering your tight. one of his arms hooked around your leg whilst the other laced on your stomach, applying pressure onto your abdomen.

“fuckfuckfuck, baby.. ! i’m so full !” your fingers grabbed and groped at the navy blue sheets. throwing your head back at the symphonies jay made with just your body.

“you full ?” he chuckled at your stimulated appearance, looking so fucked out already.

“don’t stop, daddy.. ohmygod..” your eyes roll to the back of your head.

oh he most definitely wasn’t gonna stop, no fucking way was he going to stop. you’re not done until HE says you are.

“stupid tight fucking cunt ...” jay hovered over your body, kissing from your chest up to your jaw. “open your mouth.”

you comply, opening your mouth widely with your tongue out, to receive his own saliva, like the thirsty little slut you are. wrapping your legs around his waist so you could feel him reaching deeper inside.

“good fucking girl..” “you’re daddy’s dirty little toy” “say it.”

“i’m daddy’s..— mm..” your voice was shaky, the sensation of jay’s lower rubbing against your clit was elating. “dirty little toy..!”

“oh god.. ’m gonna come..” you soon reached your climax, bubbling right at it’s tier, before jay could even speak you coated his thickness in a white dripping mess. “fuck..”

jay quickened his pace, edging himself before quickly retreating himself. climbing over your body, pumping and rubbing his length. his voice getting more pungent with each stroke before he releases his cum all over your face.

he reached back rubbing your thighs before leaving your frame to grab his phone, filming your current state. pearly strings of white decorating your hair and your beautiful face. the leftover residue on your lips and the finger you were currently sucking on, cleaning it of his spill.

“did so good for me, princess..” he praised, rubbing your sides gently, earning a tired hum from you.

“jake, you ought to tell me where you got this bed !” he displayed a mischievous smile to the phone that was still recording.

“mama, wanna go pee for me ? put your clothes back on too..” he pampered you, looking at you with loving eyes as if he wasn’t just shouting at you to his lung’s capacity an hour ago.

“okay..” you stretched, giving jay a quick kiss on the cheek before heading into the bathroom.

“oh, jake, i used one of your condoms by the way, tight fit.” jay whispered before kissing the camera and waving goodbye, ending it once and for all.

๑ ๑ ๑

‘lil bro’

pending...

[ attachment sent ! ]

“he’d probably jerk off to this. fucking perv.” the boy scoffed, slipping his legs through the holes of his sweat pants.

seen

“oh ? haha.” jay giggled to himself as jake opened the message right away, “babe, you almost done ?”

you come out of the bathroom fully clothed, washed your face, and fixed your hair. “mhm, all set now.” you link arms with your boyfriend who now had an innocent look on his face, resembling nothing like what you saw from earlier.

“alright, let’s go, sweetheart.”

ヽ(＾Д＾)ﾉ

© chobunz 2025.

[reiding-writing]

i need a part where cold!reader shows the team that she has some empathy and some “love” for them and spencer being like “see, i told you she’s not that bad and she cares about you guys” 🫶🏻

LOVE LANGUAGES — BAU TEAM!

you show your love for your team members in specifically unique ways.

bau team & cold!reader | 2.9k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — did this request slightly differently, hope it holds up okay <3

Your carefully crafted distance from the team has always been intentional. You don’t do vulnerability. You don’t do sentimental. But lately, there have been… cracks. Small ones, barely noticeable—except to Spencer, apparently, who won’t stop grinning every time you let one slip.

── EMILY PRENTISS

Emily looks at you with barely concealed surprise, her lips slightly parted as she registers what you just said.

“You’ll—wait, you’ll cat-sit Sergio?”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, feigning nonchalance. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I like cats.”

Emily scoffs, still clearly thrown off by the unexpected offer. “Uh-huh. Since when?”

You shrug, already regretting saying anything. “Since always.”

It’s a lie, at least partially. You don’t dislike cats, but that’s not why you offered. You overheard Emily talking about her sudden trip to London—something about an Interpol meeting, something she hadn’t planned for.

You’d also noticed the tension in her shoulders, the way she chewed her lip when she thought no one was looking.

She was stressed. And leaving Sergio behind clearly wasn’t helping.

You weren’t about to say any of that out loud, though.

Emily narrows her eyes at you, suspicious but amused. “You, the same person who groaned when I showed you pictures of him last week?”

“You were shoving them in my face,” you argue flatly. “Besides, I didn’t say I wanted to see cat pictures. I said I’d watch the cat. Big difference.”

She studies you for a long moment, then a slow smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “Right. Well, thanks. I guess I owe you one,”

You shake your head. “Don’t get all sentimental. Just leave the food out and don’t expect updates.”

── DEREK MORGAN

The gun feels solid in your grip, familiar. The scent of gunpowder lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You take a deep breath, steady your aim, and squeeze the trigger.

The shot lands, but not where you want it to.

You exhale sharply, lowering your weapon. It’s fine. It’s still a hit. But you don’t do "fine"—not in the field, and not here.

A deep chuckle comes from behind you. “You’re pulling to the right,”

You turn your head slightly, levelling an unimpressed look at Morgan, who’s leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching you like he’s been there for a while.

“I know,” you grumble, flicking the safety on and setting your gun down.

Morgan smirks. “Do you?”

You grit your teeth, already regretting what you’re about to say. But you didn’t come down here for nothing, and you sure as hell didn’t come down here to keep missing your mark.

So, with great reluctance, you inhale and say, “What am I doing wrong?”

Morgan blinks. You don’t think you’ve ever actually asked him for advice before—not like this. Sure, you’ve worked cases together, listened to his strategies, but asking him for genuine help? Yeah, no. That’s new.

He doesn’t gloat, though. Doesn’t tease. Instead, he pushes off the wall and steps closer, his expression shifting into something more focused. “Your stance is solid, but your grip’s a little too tight. You’re overcompensating—tensing up before the shot,”

You sigh, shifting your grip slightly. “That’s it?”

Morgan chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s not it. But it’s a start,”

He moves to stand beside you, his voice lowering into something instructional. “Try relaxing your shoulders a little. Let the gun do some of the work instead of fighting against it,”

You roll your eyes but do as he says, adjusting your posture. You take another shot. This time, it’s closer to where you want it.

“Huh,” you say begrudgingly.

Morgan grins. “See? I know what I’m talking about,”

You huff, setting the gun down again. “Don’t get used to this.”

He laughs. “Oh, trust me, I won’t hold my breath,”

As you pack up, Morgan gives you a look—not smug, not teasing. Just… knowing. Like he sees right through you.

You scowl. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, still grinning. “Just nice to see you’re capable of human emotion,”

You roll your eyes and walk out without another word.

── PENELOPE GARCIA

You don’t know why you let yourself get talked into this.

Actually, that’s a lie—you know exactly why. Garcia had been raving about some new "life-changing" snack all week, shoving it in everyone’s faces until they gave in and tried it.

You’d been dodging her persistence, fully prepared to hold out indefinitely, but then Spencer had given you that look. The one that practically screamed “Come on, you know you care,”

So, you ate the damn snack.

And you hated it.

Which is why you now find yourself marching towards Garcia’s office with the half-eaten package in hand, scowling.

When you step inside, she’s at her desk, surrounded by multiple screens filled with whatever classified magic she’s working on. She turns at the sound of the door, eyes lighting up when she sees you.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite emotionally constipated agent,” she sing-songs. Then she sees what’s in your hand and gasps. “Oh my God. Did you actually try it?”

You sigh and hold up the package. “Here. Take it. I hate it.”

Garcia doesn’t even pretend to be offended. She snatches it from your grasp with a delighted squeal. “You tried it!”

You cross your arms. “It was awful.”

She ignores your suffering entirely, beaming at you like you just did something miraculous. “But you tried it!”

“Under duress.”

“Doesn’t matter!” She’s grinning so wide it’s almost blinding. “You never do stuff like this! Oh, I’m so proud of you,”

You groan. “Garcia—“

“No, no, let me have this moment,” she interrupts, clutching the snack to her chest dramatically. “You trying something I recommended is like… a solar eclipse. Rare. Stunning. Possibly signalling the end of times,”

You roll your eyes, but something about her excitement makes it hard to be truly annoyed.

You’d never admit it, but you don’t actually mind seeing her this happy—especially knowing you had something to do with it.

── AARON HOTCHNER

The bullpen is quiet, most of the team having gone home for the night. The only sounds are the steady clicking of a keyboard and the occasional rustle of paper.

Hotch sits at his desk, brow furrowed in concentration, his desk lamp casting a dull glow over an intimidating stack of paperwork.

You could leave. Should leave. You don’t owe him anything.

And yet…

You sigh, stepping closer. “How much of that do you actually need to finish tonight?”

Hotch barely looks up. “All of it.”

You glance at the pile, then at him. He looks tired—not that it’s unusual, but tonight, the exhaustion sits deeper in his expression. You know for a fact that Jack is waiting for him at home.

You also know that if you walk away, Hotch will stay here until everything is done, no matter how late it gets.

You roll your eyes at yourself before speaking. “Give me half.”

That actually gets his attention. He pauses, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he looks at you with quiet surprise. “You want to help with paperwork?”

You scoff, grabbing a chair and pulling it up to his desk before you can change your mind. “Want is a strong word.”

Hotch watches you for a moment, probably trying to figure out what your angle is.

“You don’t have to—“

“I know,” you cut him off, already pulling a file toward you. “Just… home is boring. Might as well do something useful.”

It’s a terrible excuse, and by the look on Hotch’s face, he knows it. But to his credit, he doesn’t call you on it. Instead, he gives a small nod—one that almost looks approving—and hands you a pen.

The two of you work in silence, save for the scratching of pens against paper and the occasional click of a stapler. It’s oddly… peaceful.

Half an hour later, the stack is significantly smaller, and Hotch checks his watch before exhaling.

“You should go home,” you say before he can. “Jack’s waiting.”

He studies you for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, he nods. “Thank you.”

You wave a hand dismissively, already looking at the next file. “Just go before I change my mind.”

Hotch smiles—genuinely smiles—before gathering his things. As he heads for the door, he stops just long enough to say, “Good night.”

You don’t look up. “Yeah, yeah. Go be a dad, Hotch.”

He leaves, and the room falls silent again.

── JENNIFER JAREAU

You’re not even sure why you remember.

It’s not like JJ ever made a big deal out of it. She’d mentioned it once in passing—Henry’s birthday, some little party she was planning.

You weren’t even paying that much attention at the time, but the date must’ve stuck somewhere in the back of your mind.

And now, here you are, standing in the store, staring at a wall of toys like an idiot.

You don’t know what kids like. You don’t do kids.

But after several agonising minutes and an internal debate that makes profiling serial killers seem easy, you finally settle on a small toy car set. It seems safe enough—not too flashy, not too complicated. Just… something.

The next morning, you leave it on JJ’s desk before she gets in. No note, no name. Just the box, wrapped neatly in plain paper with Henry’s name on it.

You don’t need the awkward thank-you’s. You don’t need the attention. You just…

You don’t know why you did it, really.

Maybe because Henry is part of JJ’s world, and—whether you want to admit it or not—JJ is part of yours.

You’re at your desk when JJ arrives, coffee in hand, looking exhausted as usual. You don’t watch her directly, but you see out of the corner of your eye as she stops short, eyes landing on the package.

She picks it up, frowning in confusion. Eyes the brown paper cautiously. And then—

“Oh.” Her voice is quiet, surprised.

You keep your eyes on your screen, pretending not to notice. Pretending it’s nothing.

Then—

“Who—?” JJ turns, scanning the room. You immediately busy yourself with a file, but you can feel her looking at you.

You don’t react. Don’t acknowledge it.

And because she’s a good profiler, because she knows, JJ just smiles to herself and doesn’t say a word.

But before she sits down, she murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear:

“Thank you,”

And that’s the end of it. No big deal. No fuss.

── DAVID ROSSI

“You can stop hovering by the door,” Rossi says without looking up, expertly mincing garlic at the counter. “You’re already here. Might as well commit,”

You scowl but step further inside, arms crossed. “I don’t know why I let myself get talked into this.”

“Because deep, deep down, you secretly like us,” he says, smirking. “And because you lost a bet to Garcia,”

You grunt, leaning against the counter. “I hate her.”

“You don’t.” Rossi gestures toward the cutting board. “Hand me the basil,”

You stare at him. “Do I look like an assistant?”

“You look like someone who’s standing in my kitchen doing nothing. Basil. Wash your hands first,”

With a dramatic sigh, you rinse off your hands in the sink, grab the basil, and hand it over.

He hums in approval as he starts chopping. “Fresh ingredients make all the difference. Jarred stuff works in a pinch, but a real sauce? Needs fresh garlic, fresh basil, quality tomatoes,”

You raise a brow. “You take this very seriously.”

“As seriously as you take keeping people at a distance,”

Your expression twitches, but before you can fire back, he nods toward the stove. “Grab the wooden spoon. Stir the sauce,”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you—are you putting me to work right now?”

“You’re in my kitchen, you follow my rules,” He smirks again. “Unless you’d rather sit with Spencer and Garcia in the living room,”

You scoff but pick up the spoon, giving the sauce a slow stir. The aroma fills the kitchen—tomatoes, garlic, a hint of red wine. You hate to admit it, but it smells… good.

Rossi watches you for a moment, then chuckles. “You know, most people would just eat the food. Not ask about how it’s made,”

You freeze for half a second before scoffing again. “I was not asking about it.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Mmm. Sure,”

You keep stirring, refusing to rise to the bait. But you are paying attention—watching how he measures ingredients by instinct rather than precision, how he tastes the sauce directly from the spoon with no hesitation, how he hums in satisfaction when it’s just right.

It’s weirdly… fascinating.

By the time dinner is ready, you’ve somehow helped chop parsley and even grated some fresh parmesan. You tell yourself it was just to make things move faster—not because you enjoyed it.

Not because it felt oddly nice.

Later, after everyone eats and you’re lingering by the door, getting ready to leave, Rossi claps a hand on your shoulder.

“Not bad,” he says. “For a first-time sous-chef,”

You scoff. “This was a one-time thing, Rossi.”

“We’ll see,” His smirk is knowing. “Next time, maybe you’ll even roll the pasta,”

You roll your eyes and walk out.

── SPENCER REID

It starts with the coffee.

You always get to the office early—partly because you hate the idea of rushing, partly because mornings are quiet and no one expects much conversation from you before eight a.m.

Spencer is always there early, too. Whether it’s reading, reviewing files, or just avoiding traffic, you’re not sure. But without fail, when you step into the breakroom each morning, he’s already at the table, book in hand, eyes barely open like he’s just rolled out of bed.

So, one morning, you make a pitstop. Well, not really. You stop by the same coffee shop every day. But this time, you leave with two drinks instead of one.

You don’t say anything when you set his down next to him. You just place it there and take your own cup to your desk, acting as if nothing happened.

The next morning, you do it again.

And the next.

Spencer never comments on it. But one day, when you slide the cup next to his book, he just smiles softly and says, “Thank you.”

You don’t answer. You just take a sip of your own coffee, pretending like it’s nothing. But it isn’t nothing.

Then, there’s the jet.

Long flights, late nights, exhausted bodies slumped in seats. The team passes the time in their own ways—Morgan with his headphones, JJ and Emily whispering about their latest gossip, Rossi dozing off before the plane even takes off.

And then there’s you and Spencer.

You don’t remember when it started, but at some point, you ended up in the seats across from each other, both reading in silence.

Sometimes, it’s your pick. Sometimes, it’s his. He has a habit of finishing first and noting down important page numbers for you to focus on. You roll your eyes but take it anyway.

There’s no need for small talk. No need for explanation.

You just exist together, turning pages in the quiet hum of the plane.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you’re back in the office late, finishing up reports. Most of the team has gone home, but Spencer is still at his desk, scribbling notes with his usual intensity.

You watch him for a moment before you speak.

“You should go home, Reid.”

He glances up, blinking at you. “So should you,”

You scoff but say nothing.

Spencer tilts his head slightly, studying you the way only he can. The way that tells you he already knows what you won’t say.

He smiles—small, but warm.

“You like spending time with me,”

It’s less of an accusation than it is an observation. Like pointing out when you see a bird in a park.

You don’t roll your eyes. Don’t scoff or deflect or throw something at him like you do when he’s being particularly smug.

Because, for once, you don’t feel like pretending.

So instead, you just take a sip of your coffee, glance back at your report, and say,

“Yeah. I do.”

[kayleriathekitten]

TLDR because ADHD word vomit: Lack of accessibility in education hurts my soul and wears me down a little more every year.

I was vocal about my son needing accomodations starting in pre-k. I could already tell we were headed down the auDHD path because “Of course I know him, it’s me!” I got told “It’s too early. He’s probably just a rambunctious boy.” He missed a lot that year due to ‘tummy aches’- in reality he was overstimulated and there wasn’t accomodations for that.

In kindergarten I mentioned again, he’s going to need accomodations, how do we do that? Brushed off again. “Oh it just takes kids time to settle into real school, he’ll be fine!” He missed a lot that year too. More overstimulation, no way for him to fidget productively, starts having minor fits before school some mornings about halfway through the year.

In first grade I mention accomodations again. We get placated and brushed off again.

He starts missing a LOT of school, very quickly.

Fits of rage before school, complete and total nuclear meltdowns or government filibuster level shutdowns when we could get him to school.

Dozens of voicemails left of my voice barely holding back frustrated sobs while I’m trying to defend myself from a six year old Hulk Hogan, his tiny voice screaming angry feral bloody murder while he’s trying everything he can to hurt me and/with my phone.

Around March of first grade, we’re informed that we need to have a meeting with the school admin about my child because we were on the brink of truancy. We go to the meeting, and it’s essentially two hours of “Here’s how you and your child are a Problem even though you’ve begged for help for years.” I remind them over and over about having asked for help multiple times- I’m young, I’m on Medicaid in a rural area, and I have a special needs child while being special needs myself. Help is not really a thing out here, not without connections. Resources are essentially nonexistant. I get a shoulder shrug and what’s essentially a “Piss off, figure it out, we don’t care”.

We spent all of last summer shuttling around counselling appointments and med checks trying to find /something/ my poor boy can take. I think we tried five or six different types and dosages so far and they’ve all gone to shit.

We tried to start second grade this year. I touch base with the school counselor and let her know about all the things we’ve been trying, my kid is talking a mile a minute about starting a new school year, I remind her again about accomodations for him, we go meet the teacher, all seems great.

I probably don’t have to tell you, but we didn’t even make it in the classroom this year. I spent two weeks battling it out with my son every morning. Trying so fucking desperately to figure out /why/ he’s so distraught. Trying to explain what will happen if he misses too much school. Trying to remind him his friends from last year missed him over the summer. I walked away multiple mornings choking back tears and nursing split lips and bruises and scratches from /my child/ all because our education system can’t bother to help the kids who REALLY need that extra support. All we can do at this moment with him is some workbook pages every few days because even the fucking idea of schoolwork seems to have traumatized my kid so badly already.

He is so smart. He’s for sure got the hyperlexia I had, he’s so curious about everything around him, he’s so sweet and caring and helpful. I know every parent says it, but he has so. Much. Potential. And I’m terrified he will never be able to use it because the entire system is stacked against him.

I’m never going to stop trying and advocating for him, but with how bad things already were surrounding disabilities & education in general… I don’t know that O see a light at the end of the tunnel.

When I say “school should be disability accessible”, I don’t just mean we need handicap rails and EAs. Kids should be able to miss a day without failing out of school. You shouldn’t be dismissed from clubs because your attendance record is “spotty” (true story). I once missed an entire week of school because of a terrible, unending migraine. I was expected to keep up with my studies despite the blinding pain that came with working on my computer. When I heard my teachers say that you couldn’t miss exams, I asked what I would have to do to be excused from them. Their response? “Either get a doctor’s note an hour before the exam or death of an immediate family member.”

I cannot express how rigid this expectation was. First of all, with my condition, I wouldn’t have enough warning about my sickness to go to the doctor and request a note. For many people, this is exceptionally difficult, especially with the current shortage of medical professionals. Next, it ignores the fact that my schedule may not line with theirs because of my medical needs. Once, I had to visit a hospital a province away (which I was on the waiting list of for over a year) on the same day as an exam. I begged my mother not to take me because I was so nervous that I would be marked as an automatic fail. I was lucky enough to make it work, but that’s only because of my spectacular support system consisting of family members and wonderful doctors.

Disabilities aren’t always about needing a bus that can accommodate wheelchairs. It’s already difficult enough for many of us to maintain school attendance without the harsh punishments involved for skipping a day. We need to be able to miss school without being punished. Only than can you claim that the school is “accessible”

[mlthree]

(tf141!reader x simon riley)

simon riley was amazing at hiding his facial expressions.

keyword, was. as in had been, as in the past tense.

he learned from an early age how to do so because of the family he grew up with, but once he got to the military and put on that mask, his skills slowly began to fade away. he needed some way to convey his emotion other than shooting guns and giving death stares.

so his brain adapted, erasing years and years of learned stoicness in his facial muscles. after all, if he decided to raise his eyebrows, purse his lips, or tighten his jawline — it would be hard for one to tell. not that many people had the guts to look him in the face when he was talking, anyways.

and then came you. he was even worse at hiding it when he was around you, which was fine, because the mask was doing all the work. but when that mask came off and you got to see his face, the first ten minutes told you all you needed to know. you were a good enough intuitive to be able to read his eyes, but when the rest of his face was added in the equation, you felt like you were watching a pixar character react to anything you said.

“si, do you want to watch la la land tonight?” his face contorted as if he had smelled milk gone bad, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “so that’s another face you’re hiding under the mask?” “no. just the face i make when my girlfriend wants me to sob myself to sleep tonight.”

“lovie, how the hell did you get yourself into this situation?” he kneels beside your rather uncomfortable cot in the med bay, his shaky hand taking hold of yours. his eyes are full of fear, darting all over your face, his eyebrows furrowed, and you can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “i’m okay, si.” he clenches his jaw, unconvinced. “promise.”

“si, hey, listen. it’s okay. i’m here.” you’re coaxing your lover into deeper breaths, watching the terror slowly fade from his face when he realizes it was just a nightmare. in the dim light of the lamp you can see his eyes wide with terror, lips trembling ever so slightly. you move your hand and cup the side of his face, his eyes instinctively shutting while he leans into your touch. “thought i lost you.” you pull the timid giant towards you, placing his head in your lap and smoothing out his hair. “‘m right here, si. don’t worry.”

simon isn’t stupid — it didn’t take him long to realize why you could read him much quicker with the mask off. it scared him. being vulnerable like that scared him. he had half a mind to retrain himself to be unreadable again — but something about you stopped him. something about the way your smile just made everything feel lighter, even when the world was coming crashing down. something about how instead of trying to break his walls down you’d wait patiently behind them, knocking every so often to get him to let you in himself. something about how you radiated warmth, how everywhere you went the mood was instantly uplifted. and in the face of all of that… how could he not want to be seen by you?

⁀➷ more

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

junior.

synopsis: holding your child for the first time is always the first step to becoming a good parent. and…what now?

ft; itoshi rin, mikage reo, barou shouei

a/n: my tiktok is cryinggirlnamedhelen with a thanos pfp from squid game season 2. follow me if you want to.

itoshi rin

rin didn’t know how to feel about the cries and yells inside of the delivery room.

it wasn’t common for husbands in japan to stay with his wife during labor, so rin waited outside, pacing around with beads of sweat rolling down his temple. sae and rin’s parents sat on one of the benches while your parents sat on another, hands clasped together and mumbling prayers.

god, rin wasn’t even this nervous during the finals at the world cup.

stupid isagi and bachira had begged to come, and when they came, they just kept on asking what rin’s thoughts were on some stupid names for the baby that they had come up with. rin had shooed them away, and the two were now in the cafeteria, getting food for you when you would finally be done with the painful labor.

rin’s palms began to sweat; why was it taking so long? was it really normal for you to be screaming bloody murder in there? rin didn’t like hearing you in pain, not at all. each of your yelps and cries felt like a stab to rin’s heart. if he could be in there and stay by your side, he would in a heartbeat. but the doctors didn’t want him to be there, and rin trusted the doctors more than himself.

and finally, the high pitched cries of a baby erupted.

everyone stood up, and isagi and bachira came just in time with mountains of food on each plate that they held. the moment a doctor came out of the door with a smile, rin sprinted through the door and kneeled down by your side.

he placed a hand over yours, your skin pale and your breaths shallow, although to rin, you still looked like an angel. “rin. he’s healthy. he’s got your lashes.” a shaky smile made way to your lips before a doctor gently handed rin your newborn baby.

a tuft of dark green—almost black—hair was atop his head, and long underlashes that has been in the itoshi family for generations made way onto his eyes. rin felt his chest tightening, and his eyes began to water.

why did he feel so prideful of someone who he had just met?

the baby boy’s eyes opened; a bright teal, the color of sea glass. rin stiffened; was his kid going to cry? was rin holding him too tightly? did he fail at a father already?

but the small boy just smiled up at rin.

rin’s eyes gleamed, tears glossing over his turquoise irises like the most expensive porcelain china. “hey,” rin whispered softly. rin smiled gently when his son giggled softly. “you must’ve recognized my voice from when i used to talk to you through your mom’s stomach, huh? your mom’s amazing, she just delivered you through so much effort.” isagi and bachira stared from the doorway with their jaws dropped, although isagi’s eyes soon softened.

rin didn’t know why he loved this child so much. he didn’t know why a smile crawled to his lips the moment he saw him. he didn’t know why he felt the need to protect him forever. it scared him a little, but rin knew this feeling well, and he welcomed it.

after all, it was how rin felt when he had first met you.

mikage reo

reo once again winced at the sound of your screams, holding in even more tears and begging that your pain will end soon. once again, he asked his butlers and secretary the same thing as a few minutes again. “is everything there? her favorite foods? her favorite video games and snacks? her favorite movies? that one drink that the nurse recommended that was good for women who just gave birth?”

nagi, who was sitting on one of the benches and was dragged here by reo, replied tiredly, tapping away at his console. “reo, we just checked 3 minutes ago. they’re all here. even your butlers seem tired of this.” reo sent him a glare.

“reo, honey, you should sit. the nurses didn’t want you in there for a reason.” reo’s mother’s attempts at coaxing him were weak, and reo wouldn’t budge from his position standing right next to the door of the delivery room. “they knew that your crying during her pain would distract them.”

reo ignored his mom’s words. he had even tried bribing the nurses into letting him in before realizing that he really would just be a hindrance to deal with in the middle of trying to deliver a baby. a crying husband probably wasn’t a good addition to a screaming and wife.

suddenly, the screaming became higher pitched, more wet, more…alive.

your daughter was born.

without needing any confirmation from the doctors, reo shoved the door open and ran in, sitting on the chair right next to your bed that was placed by the doctor who had cleverly predicted his intrusion. “love, are you okay? does it still hurt? are you hungry? tired? how are you feeling? do you—“

“reo, im okay. thank you. and…” you weakly gestured to the nurse who held your baby wrapped in a bundle of purple blankets. instantly, reo stood up and took the baby into his arms, his eyes brimming with warmth.

“she looks just like you. she’s just as beautiful as her mom.” reo whispered, sitting on the chair again and gently cooing at his newborn daughter. he gently tickled her cheek with his pointer finger, and she giggled. reo’s heart melted and his eyes began to water again before he sniffled. “you’re like an angel. both you and your mom.”

reo’s parents walked in, discussing something about the future heir of the company, although reo ignored them for now. he’ll have to talk to them about how he wanted his daughter to follow her own path at another time. but for now, he just wanted to value this beautiful moment with his wife and newborn daughter.

nagi walked in, reading the room and shoving his gaming console into his jean pocket. he walked to you. “reo panicked a lot, and you screamed a lot. was it really that bad?” at your weak nod, nagi’s eyes widened a little bit. “wow. im suddenly really glad im not a woman.” a glare was sent from both reo and a few nurse.

reo glanced down at his daughter again, and his eyes softened, as if his daughter were the most precious thing in the world. “i love you so much.”

reo barely even knew this newborn girl for a few minutes, but she was always tied for the most beloved person in his heart: tied with you.

barou shouei

barou grew up with two younger sisters. he tolerated and loved them through temper tantrums, periods, puberty, boy heartbreak, and girl problems. he’s been changing their diapers, teaching them how to walk, feeding them, and cooking for them ever since they were infants.

so why was he so nervous about his own daughter, who was soon to be born?

barou didn’t tremble as he waited outside of the door, nor did he cry when he heard your wails and moans of unease. however, he was awfully stiff and overly snappy, even for barou. even when his beloved sisters tried to talk to him to ask about you and your soon to be born daughter, barou was practically already yelling.

when barou’s mother tried to calm him, barou couldn’t bring himself to reply, knowing that he would say rude things that he would regret later on to his own mother. he’d rather not risk it, and instead just nodded, trying to believe that you’re okay in there and that you’re trying your best, which he knows you are.

when the wails of a newborn baby daughter reached barou’s ears, he pushed open the door without even using the handle and instantly stood by your side.

“are you okay? was it too bad?” barou knew that he was being weirdly gentle, but how could he not when his wife just gave birth? you were pale, panting, and beads of sweat rolled down your face and neck, but you were still drop dead gorgeous in barou’s opinion.

“no, not at all.” you whispered. “you know what they said? they said that she’s one of the healthiest they’ve ever seen, maybe the the healthiest. you really did spoil and pamper me during the pregnancy, huh?”

“well, what else was i supposed to do? mistreat you? im not heartless.” a nearby nurse offered barou to hold his daughter, in which he accepted. same colored hair as him, and when she looked up, the same ruby red eyes as him. only difference? her eyes were soft and full of warmth like yours.

barou didn’t think that anything could ever be more perfect than you, but maybe he just found a tie.

[liketolaugh-writes]

"We figured out that there was an information blockade a few weeks after the Anti-Ecto Act passed," Danny told them, settling by the park bench where they were supposed to meet Danny's friends. "How'd you get through?"

Danny's other form was interesting, and frankly, a lot less off-putting than Clark had been prepared for. He sat cross-legged in the air, more casual in his defiance of gravity than Clark was, and his glacial white hair drifted slightly, as if he were underwater. He gave off a faint glow, which cast his features into stark relief, with none of the usual shadows. His eyes were a vivid radiation green. The only thing Clark found disconcerting was that he had no heartbeat at all.

Clark felt strongly that the hunters who were so afraid of him needed to get a grip.

He wore an interesting suit, too. Clark could see why Maddie had mistaken it for a superhero costume, except it obviously wasn't - it was a haz-mat, exactly like hers. Apparently it hadn't done him much good even when it fit.

"A lot of persistence and a lot of contacts," Lois said with a rueful smile. "Amity Park disappeared extremely suddenly, and while not a lot of people noticed, some did. One of my old college friends lives in Elmerton, and Elmerton certainly noticed."

"Elmerton's so close that they're lucky it got spared," Danny said dryly. He hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes flicking warily between them, and then asked, "Why did you...?"

Clark gave Danny a gentle smile, noting that while the shocked hostility had faded, Danny was still nervous. "Well, it was obvious that you weren't safe here," he said. "And not in the normal way for heroes. When you mentioned that your species had become illegal, I combed through recent legislation, and..." He trailed off pointedly, and Danny looked away. "I consider you a friend, Danny. I have for a while now. I wanted to help you, if I could."

Danny ducked his head, looking self-conscious and a little overwhelmed. It wasn't a bad change from the defeated look he'd had during Maddie's lecture. Before Danny could figure out an answer, his friends showed up, and he perked up with visible relief. That made sense; Danny seemed like the type of kid that drew a lot of courage from his friends.

"Oh my god, you weren't kidding," the tallest girl said, eyes wide. She was a redhead, with bright teal eyes that had a touch of unnatural luminescence to them. Clark would bet money that this was Danny's sister.

"Of course not, he's Danny," the other girl scoffed, walking forward without hesitation to swing into a seat right next to Danny. There was a hint of a starry-eyed look to her when she looked at Lois, but - the mark of a vigilante's support team - she didn't let it take control. Instead, she crossed her arms and regarded them warily.

The only boy sat across from them, looking almost as nervous as Danny, and the taller girl perched on the table, uneasy and uncomfortable.

They were just kids. Untrained kids, at that, doing their best for the world.

"Jazz, my sister," Danny explained, indicating the redhead. "She helps me deal with my parents, mostly. Sam, my best friend, she's the only good shot here." Sam smirked. "And Tucker, my other best friend, tech whiz." He waved awkwardly.

"It's good to meet you," Clark said politely, giving them a sincere, if tense smile.

"So," Danny continued, with more confidence now, "you wanted to give me a lecture about how my parents are monsters, I shouldn't live with them anymore, and I should pack all my stuff and move out. Am I right?"

Pause.

"Well," Clark said at last, scratching the back of his head with embarrassment. "That wasn't our intention in coming here, but it was the way I was leaning by the end of that conversation." Danny sighed, and Clark hastened to continue, "I'm sure you've thought about it before-"

"No," Danny cut him off, reaching up to rub his face in obvious stress and frustration. Clark winced in guilt. He was trying to help Danny, not make him more upset.

The only other one who looked sympathetic to Danny's plight was Jazz, who explained to Clark, blushing and apologetic, "Danny's really sensitive about our parents, especially Mom. I know you got a big face-full of the bad lab etiquette and the anti-ghost stuff, but Danny and Mom used to be really close." Something about her tone told Clark that she wanted to defend them too, but knew from experience it was futile.

"As Danny puts it, he's the one that keeps getting shot, and he doesn't need to be reminded how much it hurts," Sam put in, more dry than Jazz, but with the same glance of worry at Danny.

"Of course," Clark sighed, giving Danny an apologetic smile. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Can we talk about literally anything except how much my parents hate me?" Danny pleaded, pushing his hand up his face to run it through his fluffy hair.

Clark took that as a no, and when he glanced down, Sam just gave him a resigned shrug, so clearly this was not new behavior for Danny. Clark resolved to try and approach it again later, much later, when some of the other problems had been solved.

"Practicalities, then," Lois said briskly, bless her. She grabbed her notebook and flipped it open. "So, you said most of the town falls under the Anti-Ecto Act?"

Danny looked relieved by the change in subject. "Most might be a little generous," he hedged. Tucker shook his head fervently, and Danny ignored him. "But yeah. The portal gives off a lot of ambient ectoplasm, which is great for like, me, because it feeds me, and no one else, because it settles into their nervous system." He shrugged. "I never really thought that much of it. At 5%, you maybe start to be able to sense ghosts subconsciously, and you're a bit more resistant to future contamination. At 10%, you can sense ghosts nearby and you might start to see in the dark."

"For the record, he and Jazz were at 20% before the portal even opened," Tucker put in, "at which point shadows cling to you, you develop tapetum lucidum, and your footsteps don't make noise."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you eat it from a young age," Danny muttered. "Anyway, all of which is to say: it didn't really matter until the Anti-Ecto Act passed."

"But now it does," Clark said quietly.

"But now it does," Danny agreed. "Most of the townsfolk don't know it yet, I think, but that's why the GIW is so careless about collateral damage here. You're not a person until they've tested your ecto levels, and they don't usually bother."

"You didn't..." Clark hesitated, reluctant to say anything that might be construed as an accusation against the young ghost. Danny caught on anyway and ducked his head.

"Well," Danny said quietly, "I didn't know what you thought of ghosts."

"Danny," Clark said seriously. "I will make sure you get rights if it's the last thing I do."

Danny Fenton sends Superman a fan email in which he asks for advice. In it he says he is also a non-human hero (he is vague because being a ghost is illegal) Danny mentions that he is being raised by humans. His parents don't know about his activities or species and hate his kind.

Danny was mostly looking for advice on how to make people stop being scared of his non-human characteristics. But Clark really sees himself in this teenager's email. He knows he was lucky to get parents who loved him even as an alien, but he also recalls being young and scared that would change.

So they start regularly exchanging emails, and Superman becomes a kind of mentor even if Danny refuses to tell him anything about his identity.

[vershautece]

luigi taking care of u when u have a headache <3

‘what’s the matter, baby?’ he’d say, sitting down next to you while you’re lying drowsily on the arm of the sofa. ‘i have a fucking migraine, i don’t know if it’s hormonal or what, it just came out of nowhere’ you’re muttering the words through the pain of the dull ache, your head resting on the furniture.

‘dolcezza’ he says softly, leaning closer to brush your hair out of your face. ‘hey. let’s go to bed, get the lights off so it doesn’t get any worse’

‘mhm’ you murmur, not fully listening, and now the low ringing in your ears is increasing so you’re falling even further into the sofa to try and get any sort of comfort.

‘cmon’ lu whispers so soft into your ear, and gently scoops you up into his arms. despite how exhausted you are, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist. ‘gonna get you comfy in bed, baby - my girl.’ he’s pressing soft kisses on your forehead over and over as he carries you upstairs, and while the pain is horrible his warm kisses are so perfect on your skin - you know you’d be unable to cope without him here. ‘thank you, lu… i love you’ you murmur against his collarbone, kissing it lightly.

‘sh, cara mia, you don’t have to say anything, just relax against my chest, yeah?’ his grip on you is so so perfect, you’re so snug in his arms. you’re entering the bedroom now, and for a minute lu’s holding u tight against him with just his right arm, as his left hand shuts the curtains and switches off all the lights. imagine his muscles flexing in the arm that’s holding u against him fuck

he presses two slow, lingering kisses to your forehead, so soothing against your skin, and then wraps his left arm around you again, before gently placing you in your shared bed. you whine a little against the pillow because he’d let go of you, and he chuckles softly at u from the side of the bed. ‘just one second’ he says quietly, pulling his hoodie and shirt over his head, and then stepping out of his jeans. in just his boxers, he crawls underneath the covers next to you, and immediately pulls you so gently into his bare chest, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and pulling the sheets comfortably around you both. he gives you another quick forehead kiss, and you hum contentedly against him, one arm across his torso and one on his chest. ‘mmm - princess treatment, this is why i love you’ you moan deliriously against him, and he laughs: ‘this should be the bare minimum, baby.’ lu pulls you into him even closer, sighing in content, and his left arm caresses your forehead, through your hair, down to your arm. his right arm plays with your fingers that rest on his chest.

as you both lay there he’s pressing soft kisses everywhere he can reach: your hair, forehead, both sides of your face, eyelids, cheeks; pulling your hand gently up to his lips every so often. he purposely doesn’t kiss your lips, because he’s trying to send you off to sleep and you’ll get distracted otherwise.

‘ti amo, tesoro, bellissima. ti voglio tra le mie braccia per sempre’* he whispers into your ear while he assumes you’re fast asleep, still playing with your hair. you’re still half awake though, and you can hear every word, your heart fluttering like crazy :’)

*i love you, [pet names]. i want you in my arms forever’

[darinawrites]

౨ৎ— A sweet treat —౨ৎ

Pairing: Salesman x implied f!reader

Summary: losing everything you have, having countless hungry nights, a mysterious man is suddenly there to satiate the rumbling of your belly everyday with a little game. His gaze dwelling on yours far too long every time

Content: fluff (there is only smut of my poor man, I had to give the fluff lovers something), idiots in love, mentions of being kicked out, homeless reader, implied stalking

A/n: like said before, this man ONLY gets smut, had to give him something. I again tried to shorten the fic since I know people rather like a shorter fic (from my knowledge). Just know I was giggling and kicking my feet at 2 am writing this

Word count: 2k

---------------------------------------------ᣟ݂ ✩͏⚹︎-----

Your body was stiff against the soft grass you laid on, groaning as sunlight hit your eyes the moment your eyelids opened. A thin blanket, supposed to serve you warmth did anything but that. Laying pathetically on your body, coldness seeping trough it.

Groggily opening your eyes, accepting the sunlight as you tried to get used to it. Stirring as you gently sat up, the cloth slipping down your body. Body sore from the uneven dirt, belly rumbling from yet another hungry night. All uncomfortable yet familiar feelings.

What was even the point of standing up now? It was late in the day, most of your other fellows outside of the park, begging on the streets. You never joined them. It made you feel even more pathetic, if that was possible. Your poignant figure would get you enough money to eat, but you couldn't bring yourself to. Being depended on wealthy people, whimpering beneath their feet for any change. You'd rather keep your dignity.

Finally adjusting to the sunlight, you fully sat up, massaging your forehead to relieve some pressure. What to do now? You could take a walk, but your sore muscle are crying not to. Talk with the other few presences beside you? You're good on that. Their attitude is quite coarse, you'd rather not. Besides, your aloofness would stop you either way.

Your entertainment usually consisted of brawls amongst you, just like high school kids surrounding a fight in the halls. Luckily (sadly) there weren't any to watch with them out in the streets now.

So, with one option left, your focus now shifting your focus on the nature surrounding you. Thoughts of all kind were running trough your head, but the soft delicate flowers made it bearable. This was your sad excuse of a life. No entertainment to keep your mind out of the gutter. No money for drugs or alcohol, anything that could also keep your mind away. This was it, petals of lilies being your only comfort, brushing against your hand.

You never wanted this. It wasn't your fault. Or was it? You could never decipher how it went to this situation. And that bothered you, deeply. Having such hazy memories of when it led to this hellhole you were stuck in now, you just needed to know.

All these questions whirling inside your head as you kept your gaze at a soft white flower beside you, taking note of a new figure entering from the corner your eyesight. The mysterious figure came closer, you now seeing that it was a man, a rich and opulent looking man. A nice suit, presentable hair and a couple of bags in his hands.

It was a peculiar sight to see. While this park was beautiful, there were a bunch of homeless people surrounding it, making the snobby rich turn their head away in disgust. Not coming near it. Weird that he was here.

Even weirder to see the well put man seemingly walk in your direction. Now that got your attention, focus leaving the small flower, now set on the tall man nearing your frame.

And you were right, his footsteps gradually more audible, the sunlight bouncing on his polished black shoe, he was going in your direction...why?

This made you feel uneasy. You've never had respect for the rich, jealousy? A little. But its the way they're always the same. Snobby, petulant and endearing. The money making them share the small braincell left of them, apparently. You didn't know this mans intention, and with a higher 'worth' than you, you weren't excited to know it.

Eyesight at the ground, you could now see a pair of legs, looking up to meet a charming face.

The contrast between you two was sad. Well made hair and a nice suit in comparison to your tangled hair and shirt with holes in it. Expensive cologne mixing in with the smell of musk. Two sides of the world.

"Hello, miss. Seeing as you have no hope for the future," he sharply started. Making you furrow your eyebrows as your gaze turned into a glare. "I have brought a gift for you." ending with a hopeful ending, it made your brows furrow in confusion this time. Does he have good intentions or not?

Putting down the bags he held, he reached down and pulled out something in each hand. A lottery ticket and bread.

"You're only allowed to pick one."

Was this some type of sick joke? What the rich do in the free time, tormenting the poor? Or seemingly some type of sadist joy. Both options were ones you weren't fond of.

Hesitantly staring up at the man, the charming smile still plastered on his face. You knew your choice from the start, being the bread. Your stomach was practically begging to grow arms and grab it itself. But the matter of trust is what made you cautious. Are you really going to play into this twisted game?

Apparently, yes. Hands reaching without approval, grabbing the packaged bread, all while letting your glare intensify.

Your antics making the man chuckle, smirk intensifying, his gaze dwelling on you before walking. Only once you couldn't see him did you take out the bread and demolish it.

It made you sick how he played you, but you couldn't focus on that, the satiating of your tummy overwhelming the sickness with pleasure. Its been days of the rumbling, days of sleepless night. This simple bread tasting like heaven, mouth not waiting to swallow before taking another bite.

Your ears catched on commotion around you, that douchebag asking more homeless people the same question he offered you. Knowing your mates, you knew they'd pick gamble. But you couldn't bring yourself to care about him anymore, finishing your food with one last bite.

Gosh, it really wasn't that filling, but it felt like a 5 star meal. Yet, your blissful trance was broken with a man yelling out to not waste good food.

Your eyes staring up, now finding that strange man dumping the rest of the bread on the floor. Berating everyone that this was your fault, aggressively stomping on the bread and flattening it.

What the fuck? Is this guy okay??And just like that, he left, not before giving you a quick glance though. Asshole.

It made your blood boil, everything that has happened in a span of a few minutes made your hatred even worse, your mellow mood long gone.

Later, when some of your friends came back, you started to incessantly ramble about the interaction, the smugness, the bread, the waisting. Yet all they got from that was 'free food'. Gosh, it was irritating how they don't understand anything. But it's fine, not letting them ruin your mood further as you laid down to sleep again, the day ending fast.

But this time, sleeping came with ease. Your hunger silent and behaved. It was nice, real nice. The one good thing coming out of today.

Groaning the next day once again, feeling a hand softly shake your shoulders. This time, the birds melody didn't wake you up, but a rough, yet somehow soft big hand did. Squinting your eyes, your ears revealing the hands that woke you up as a familiar voice rang through.

"Hello, miss. Care for another gift?" this just had to be a nightmare, right? Or maybe a joke? Heck, your imagination even. Sadly, it was none of the above. Your eyes, once used to the light, staring up at that same smug smile.

This time, you practically snatched it out of his hand, showing off more petulant behavior. A smirk was seen on his face, reaching down in the bags again. Taking out another piece of bread, his soft hands brushing against your roughened ones as he placed it on your palm, leaving with no words exchanged.

You were pleasantly surprised. Why would he do that? You didn't think about it clearly though, letting the bread fill your mouth again.

He carried out what he did yesterday, asking each individual before pouring the bread down on the floor again.

"This better not become a routine.." you sighed, his shiny shoes stomping the bread beyond repair. Again, glancing at you before finally leaving. It just felt surreal, hoping this was the last time.

But, your hopes were clearly ignored as he came back the next morning and even the next day. Again and again coming back, adding a piece of bread each time you saw him. His features getting softer, his words less snarky. Flattening the bread and letting his eyes lingering on you everytime, way too much for comfort, before going away.

You really couldn't tell if you hate him or love him.

This day though, you woke up relatively early. Earlier than the man, which really was a relief. And with all the energy the food gave you over the days, you decided to go for a walk, an activity you've always enjoyed but your body hated.

Striding down the streets, getting a few glares, some things really don't change. And that was oddly comforting.

Looking around the city, it really was beautiful. Shops lighting up with all kinds of colours, a few people running early in the morning to stay fit. Yet your favourite was the smell of pastries. Specifically the traditional french bakery you've come across now.

You loved them as a kid, your little taste buds exploding each time. Even now, as you've come across it, you stood still for a good amount of time. Letting the smell fill your nose up completely. It really holds so many memories.

Your eyes now turning to the small shop, wanting to look at the baked goods you can only dream of tasting.

But, as you looked trough the glass, you let out a small gasp.

Him.

Seeing his slicked back hair from a mile away, bags in his hand as he payed for a piece of cake. You wanted to walk away, but sadly it was in vain.

"Oh, hello miss. Coincidence seeing you here." he started, his voice ringing behind you.

"Yeah...what a coincidence." awkwardly talking back, you never actually had a conversation with him. Only mumbles of a thanks and a 'have a nice day'.

You turned now to meet him, not wanting to be seen as rude in the streets. And this time, he had a charming smile plastered on his face.

"Well, that makes my job much easier, here, I believe this is for you." reaching out the small pink cake slice out to you, shoving it in your hand before you could protest. Your stunned features scrunching up. Is he really being this nice?

As you looked down at the strawberry cake, surprisingly your favourite one, you couldn't help a small blush escaping, cheeks warming up at his gesture. You could see him fiddling with something in his jacket as you bowed down for his gratitude, something you usually hated doing.

"Here, before I forget. Have a nice day, lovely" he gave you written white paper before turning his back and letting his pace quicken.

He knew he shouldn't have given you that. Neither the cake nor the paper, his hand now fiddling with the brown card in his jacket. The one he was supposed to give to you.

He just couldn't bring himself to. How could he let someone as weak as you join the games? Instead, he gave you a disgustingly sweet letter, his (fake) adresse written on the bottom to give you a place to sleep. Showing he isn't the irascible person you made him out to be, seemingly getting joy from stepping on the bread, when his joy stemmed from you.

The moment he met you from afar, months ago, he became obsessed. The pragmatic way was to simply ask you for a date, but he just couldn't. His job conflicting it, his emotions quite a mess. He simply hopes one day to have you. Hoping your coarse hand can hold his one day.

Hoping for you.

[inkandapex]

In the Slopes

Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter Summary: Lando and Y/N have always been inseparable, but during a snowy getaway with friends, their usual dynamic starts to shift. Unspoken feelings begin to resurface.

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: some swearing angst & fluff

Winter isn’t exactly Y/N’s favourite season; she’d much rather be lounging under the warm sun, with her feet in the water and sand tangled in her hair. But alas, Quadrant's annual team-building getaway was set in the snowy slopes of Whistler.

"What could you possibly need this for?" Lando pauses his game and turns in his seat as he hears Max hysterically laughing at the whistle he found in Y/N's luggage.

"Give me that! Why are you two even here? Don't you have to pack your own stuff or something" Y/N whines and snatches the whistle from Max, tossing it across her bedroom.

"Max, be nice. It took a lot of grovelling to get her to agree to be in the video, let alone come with us," Lando laughs, turning back around to focus on his game.

"You better not be messing with my sims Lando, I spent hours building that house from scratch" Y/N sighs as she sits on the floor with a pile of clothes in her arms

"I don't know what you're so worried about Y/N, I'm not the best at skiing either. You'll pick it up quick" Max says as he sits on the floor helping her fold the clothes

"Yeah, remember you did so well when we did that karting video. You even ended up liking it more than you thought you would"

"Alright enough pep talk, i'm not used to you muppets acting so nice. Pizza's here. Norris get your ass off my computer and help me fit all of these into my bag" Y/N stands up as she receives a notification on her phone

Lando sits across from Max as Y/N leaves the room. Max watches his friend attempt to tidily fold a shirt before he lets off a scoff.

"What?"

"Please tell me you're finally telling her this week, I can't keep a secret any longer. P is starting to notice"

"Keep you voice down! And what do you mean P's starting to notice" Lando hisses, leaning back to peek out the door checking if Y/n was anywhere within earshot

"Mate, I get so nervous when she asks about you two! The other day, she asked if you two were together, and I just got all weird and defensive, trying to explain why you'd be hanging out together, when she was clearly just asking cause you both played padel that morning and she needed to ask Y/n about a dress" Max explains, almost out of breath, running his hand across his hair

"You're acting like it's so easy for me. Oh, thanks for being such a great friend for the decade I’ve known you, Y/N. By the way, I have feelings for you—no, scratch that—I’m in love with you." Lando chucks the shirt at Max, rolling his eyes as he lies back on the floor.

"That works"

"Shut up.... I just— its y/n, you know? I fuck this up, everything changes. Its not just about me and her"

"Look, I don’t want to get in your head, but I honestly think she might feel the same way. She shows up to races, she’s there for you whenever you need her, shit your family loves her. You're overthinking this, tell her how you feel. That's a good start"

Lando sits up, propping himself on his elbows, a defeated look crossing his face. "Exactly, she might feel the same way... if she doesn’t, it’s gonna get weird. I can't ruin our friendship like that"

"I can meddle"

"No! No meddling! This ski trip is for the team. When I find the courage to tell her, i will"

"More like when you find your balls..."

"Foods here! Come out here, no eating in my bedroom!" Lando kicks Max's leg just in time for Y/N to announce her return, pizza boxes in hand.

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

After a long day of skiing and filming, the group made their way back to the cabin just before sunset, just enough time to unwind before dinner. Y/N sank into the plush sofa by the crackling fireplace, the warmth from the flames making her sigh in relief. Wrapped up in a thick, soft blanket, she leaned back, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone.

"Wanna grab a little snack before dinner? I saw this cute cafe near by" Pietra plops down beside her, laying her head on her lap

Y/N lets out a groan, putting her phone away "P, please i'm so sore. I honestly think you'd have to drag me by my feet for dinner tonight"

"Oh but you did great today. You should've seen Max his first time on the slopes, it was almost sad." P sits up to give y/n some relief

"Where is he anyways? Go ask him to go to the cafe with you- bring me back a muffin while you're at it"

"He’s with his boyfriend, going over clips from today…" Pietra pauses, crossing her legs and narrowing her eyes at Y/N, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Speaking of my boyfriend’s boyfriend—what’s going on between you and Lando?" She leans forward slightly, her gaze sharp and accusing, as if she’s piecing something together.

This makes y/n frown, confusion spreading across her face "Me and Lando? What do you mean?"

"Come on, Y/N," Pietra says with a playful grin, leaning in as she pokes Y/N’s arm. "Ever since the season ended, you two have been hanging out way more. And didn’t you spend Christmas with his family? Oh, and let’s not forget today! On the slopes, he was literally stuck by your side the entire time—he’s usually off showing off or racing with the guys." She wiggles her eyebrows, clearly enjoying the tease, her gaze never leaving Y/N as if waiting for some kind of confession.

Y/N laughs, giving Pietra a gentle shove. "Did you hit your head out there?" she teases.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Lando and I hang out all the time, it’s just that we’ve had more time recently. Plus, it’s not the first time I’ve spent Christmas with the Norris family." She shrugs casually, then continues, her tone softening slightly as she recalls the day. "And as for today, well, it was my first time skiing, and Lando insisted I join the trip to begin with. I guess he just wanted to make sure someone was there to keep me from falling on my face the whole time." She laughs again, shaking her head, clearly not fazed by the teasing, but her explanation still carries a hint of warmth.

"Huh... I could've sworn you were hiding something. I mean even Max acts all weird whenever I bring the two of you up"

"Max? What? About Lando and I?"

"Yeah, he gets all defensive whenever I bring up the two of you," Pietra says with a shrug, her eyes narrowing playfully. "I thought you two finally sucked it up and acted on whatever’s going on between you."

"Whatever's going on?"

"Come on y/n. You clearly have feelings for Lando. You may lie to everyone else but I see through you" Pietra laughs

"I’m— no. Me? Feelings for Lando?" Y/N stutters, her voice faltering as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. She tugs at the edge of her blanket, avoiding Pietra's gaze.

She forces a nervous laugh, but it sounds hollow, the tension in the room thickening. "Yeah, right. No— no, that’s not…" Her sentence fizzles out, her mind racing, but she can’t quite find the right words.

Pietra's jaw drops, her eyes widening in surprise before a sly grin slowly spreads across her face. "Oh my gosh..." she murmurs, her voice rising with the realization. "I was just messing with you, but—" She leans in closer, her smile growing wider as she watches Y/N squirm. "You do have feelings for him!"

Y/N's heart skips a beat, the words hitting her harder than expected. Was it that obvious? Did everyone see it? The weight of it all settles heavily on her, her stomach flipping in a way that both unsettles and excites her. "No, I—" she starts, but her voice is barely a whisper, unsure of what to say next.

"Y/N!" Pietra exclaims, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and excitement. "He obviously feels the same way. Why else would Max be acting like that whenever I ask about you two?"

Y/N's stomach tightens, a wave of nervous energy making her insides churn. Could it be? Was it really possible that Lando felt the same way about her? Her heart skips at the thought, but then the doubts creep in, drowning out any sense of hope. No, he couldn’t possibly... Lando was Lando, the guy who was always surrounded by people, always the center of attention, effortlessly charming everyone around him. And she... she was just Y/N. Just a friend.

He only sees me as a friend. The words loop in her mind. Nothing more than that. They’d always been friends, nothing had ever suggested anything different, right? She feels a strange tightness in her throat, as if even acknowledging the possibility of something more would shatter the delicate balance they’d always had.

"Oh, honey, I’m sorry," Pietra says softly, her tone shifting as she notices the distant look in Y/N's eyes.

"I didn’t mean to make it weird," she adds, her voice softening. "But you know, everyone’s been kind of... wondering." Her eyes meet Y/N’s, a mix of empathy and understanding in them, as if offering a lifeline in the middle of the uncertainty.

Y/N lets out a laugh, shaking her head as she looks at Pietra. "You're just saying that to make the voices go away," she teases, trying to deflect, though her tone carries an edge of nervousness.

Pietra grins, unfazed. "No, seriously! A few of the newer people on the team genuinely thought you two were a thing when they first joined Quadrant." She leans back, raising an eyebrow as she watches Y/N's reaction, knowing full well that the thought might have crossed her mind too. The comment lingers, like an unspoken truth that makes the room feel a little smaller.

The sound of footsteps coming from the stairs behind them makes both Y/N and Pietra turn their heads in sync.

"You're not getting ready yet?" Max says, his voice teasing but with a hint of impatience. "Our reservation's in an hour, and we're starving. We can't be late."

He walks down the stairs with Lando trailing just behind him, moving toward the two on the sofa. Max leans down, planting a gentle kiss on Pietra's head as he passes, a small smile tugging at his lips. Lando follows closely, his gaze briefly flickering to Y/N before he glances away, his expression unreadable. The atmosphere shifts again, subtle but charged, as everyone feels the undercurrent of what’s unspoken.

"We might have to drag Y/N by her feet to the restaurant—her words, not mine," Pietra laughs softly, her voice playful as Max sits beside her, pulling her closer for a quick cuddle.

This catches Lando’s attention, and he pushes away from the counter in the kitchen, his footsteps quick and purposeful as he strides across the room toward the couch. He stops just short of them, his eyes narrowing slightly with concern. "Why? What’s wrong? You feeling okay?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine care, though his usual confident swagger seems a little softer.

"No—yeah, I’m okay, just sore, really," Y/N says, her voice a little shaky as she forces a smile at Lando. "I’ll be fine. P, we should get ready."

She stands up quickly, giving Lando a brief but reassuring smile before turning towards the stairs. As Y/N begins to head up, Pietra stands too, shooting Max a knowing look that doesn’t go unnoticed. Max raises an eyebrow, but Pietra simply follows Y/N up the stairs.

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Dinner went by smoothly, the lively chatter and laughter around the table giving Y/N the perfect distraction from the lingering thoughts she’d been trying to push away. Lando’s presence felt comforting, like a steady anchor, though she couldn’t help but notice the occasional glance he threw her way—just enough to keep the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but not enough to make her feel overwhelmed. For now, she was content to enjoy the evening, letting the connection with her friends fill the space that her doubts had briefly occupied.

Y/N lies on her bed, the soft glow from her phone casts a faint light across the room, but her mind is still tangled in the conversation earlier. She barely notices the time passing until a soft knock at her door pulls her attention away.

She sits up quickly, smoothing her hair back, and calls out, "Come in."

Lando slips into her room quietly, a bottle of water in his hands. He stands at the foot of the bed "Hey, sorry, were you about to sleep?" he asks, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of concern.

"No, you're good," Y/N replies with a small laugh "Just on my phone... struggling to sleep, honestly." She smiles up at him, her eyes warm as she pats the space beside her. "What's up?"

Lando hesitates for just a moment, he crosses the room and sits down, the familiar weight of his presence settling next to her. He reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a small pill bottle, offering it to her along with the water bottle.

"Painkillers," he says, his tone casual but with an underlying kindness. "Thought you could use some if you want to be able to hit the slopes again tomorrow. We’re doing the sled race, remember?"

Y/N lets out a relieved sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she takes the pill from him, followed by a sip of water. "Thank you," she says, her voice soft. "I can’t believe I forgot to pack some."

Lando waves it off with a small grin. "All good," he says, his eyes meeting hers briefly. "Take one tomorrow before we head out too if you're still hurting."

She nods, feeling the knot in her shoulders start to loosen. The warmth of his presence is more comforting than she expected, and for a moment, the weight of everything else melts away.

"Do you fancy an ice cream?" Lando asks, a mischievous smirk creeping across his face as he nudges Y/N gently with his elbow.

Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, laughter bubbling up in her chest. "Ice cream? It’s almost midnight— and, uhmm... oh right, it's freezing outside," she says, her voice light with amusement. She shakes her head, grinning at his antics, but the playful glint in his eyes makes it clear he’s not giving up on the idea so easily.

Lando shrugs dramatically, the smirk never leaving his face. "Who says you can’t have ice cream in the middle of the night?" he teases, nudging her again as if trying to convince her to join his impromptu late-night mission.

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

The two walk back to the cabin, their laughter echoing in the crisp night air as they reminisce about the day’s adventures. Every so often, their arms gently brush against each other, the shared warmth a quiet comfort between them.

"Aren’t you glad I made you come up here?" Lando says, a playful gleam in his eye. "Next year, you could even try snowboarding" He wiggles his brows at Y/N, his voice teasing as if he’s already picturing her falling all over again.

Y/N groans dramatically, her breath visible in the cold night. "Can't we just go to the beach or somewhere warm that doesn’t require me to fight for my life and fall on my ass every couple of meters?" She stops walking, planting her feet firmly in protest, her face scrunched in exaggerated annoyance.

Lando laughs, his eyes twinkling as he glances at her. "Come on, you big baby," he teases, reaching for her hand and pulling her gently toward the cabin. "Let’s get inside. Your nose is so red."

Y/N huffs but lets him pull her along, the warmth of his hand in hers making her forget the cold. She can’t help but smile, even if she’d never admit how much she enjoyed their little banter.

They stand just outside Y/N's door, Y/N looks up at him with a playful smirk, her arms crossed loosely in front of her. "Thank you for tonight," she says with a hint of warmth in her voice. "Though if I wake up with a cold tomorrow, I’m blaming you and your ice cream escapade."

Lando chuckles, his eyes softening as he leans against the doorframe, his smile lazy but genuine. "I’ll be sure to nurse you back to health," he says, his voice low and easy, but with an undertone of sincerity. "I’ll be across the hall if you need me."

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Silence hangs in the air, a tension growing, subtle but undeniable. Their eyes meet and linger, flicking back and forth between each other's lips, the space between them feeling smaller with every passing second.

Lando’s breath catches slightly as he notices the way her lips part just a fraction, and Y/N, almost without realizing, shifts a little closer, the energy between them thickening.

Y/N takes a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket as she glances at Lando. “Lando... I— I’ve been thinking about us—” Her voice is quieter than she meant it to be.

Lando’s eyes widen in a split-second of panic, and he quickly cuts her off, almost too quickly. “Us? About us?” His tone is a little too sharp, his expression tight, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

Y/N freezes, but then gathers her thoughts, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “Yes, our relationship—” She bites her lip, her heart pounding in her chest as she takes a step forward.

Lando blinks rapidly, trying to process her words. “—our relationship?” His voice cracks slightly, and his gaze shifts to the floor before quickly snapping back to hers.

Y/N nods, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. “Yes, well, no, I mean, our relationship as friends, of course!” She laughs nervously, her voice trailing off, trying to downplay the growing knot in her stomach.

Lando lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah, of course... uhmm, what about it?”

Y/N’s heart sinks a little, but she tries to push through the discomfort. “I just… I don’t know, Lando. I’ve been wondering if maybe we’re both feeling the same thing, you know? About... more than just friendship?” Her voice falters at the end, uncertainty creeping in.

Lando’s face flushes slightly, and he takes a step back, a defensive edge to his tone. “Oh well I mean, yeah we’re good friends, right? Best friends even, you and Max.” He says it quickly, almost too quickly, his words stumbling over themselves as if he's trying to convince himself just as much as her.

The silence that follows feels like an eternity. Y/N looks away, her stomach sinking, the words she was about to say hanging heavy in the air between them. She clears her throat, trying to force a smile, but it feels like it’s made of glass, fragile and thin. “Right,” she says softly, her voice almost too quiet. “I get it.”

Lando stands there for a moment, his expression caught somewhere between relief and regret. He can feel the weight of the situation, but he’s not sure what to say next. He couldn't bring himself to tell her how he really felt. "You... feel that way right? I mean you see me as your best friend?" he says quickly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but stopping short when he realizes how awkward it feels. "Maybe even your bestest friend, even over Max or P" Lando lets out a nervous chuckle in the attempt to ease the uneasiness filling the air.

Y/N nods, her eyes not meeting his. “Yeah, of course. Max isn't even top 3. Hey, I’m gonna head in and get some rest.” y/n attempts to return the banter as she turns slightly, her hand already on the doorknob, her pulse still racing from the conversation.

She pauses at the door, giving him a quick glance over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Goodnight, Lando," she says softly before stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

Lando stands there for a moment, his hand still lingering in the air, unsure of whether he should follow her or just walk away. After a few moments, he sighs, shaking his head as he walks back toward his own room, the unspoken tension lingering in the silence of the hallway.

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

Lando laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, the thoughts of the conversation with Y/N replaying over and over in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling of regret, the missed opportunity to tell her how he really felt. Every time he closed his eyes, her face kept coming back to him, the look in her eyes that made him realize he might have just ruined everything by not saying what he’d wanted to say.

The sun was barely up when Lando found himself standing in the hallway, his heart racing as he made his way to Max and P's room.

"Max, you've got to get up, mate," Lando whispered urgently, his voice low but insistent, shaking Max awake.

Max let out a groan, his eyes barely open as he tried to make out his friend’s figure in the dim light of the room, the sun just starting to peek through the closed curtains. "What? Lando. What time is it?" His voice was thick with sleep.

"It’s... it’s early, I know. But I need to talk. I can’t stop thinking about it, mate. I messed up."

Max rubbed his eyes, finally managing to sit up, his confusion turning into concern. "Wait, what happened?" He yawned and stretched, still groggy but fully aware that Lando was rarely this urgent unless something serious was going on.

Lando ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little as he tried to find the words. "I didn’t tell her how I really feel, Max. And now I’m just stuck. I can’t stop thinking about it. I— I think I might’ve blown it." His voice was strained, frustration seeping through every word.

Max sat up straighter now, fully awake as he processed his friend's words. “Wait you’re talking about Y/N, right?” He rubbed his face, trying to make sense of Lando’s sudden shift in mood.

Lando paused, looking at Max, his face tight with the weight of everything. “She brought it up, she asked about us- our friendship and I just froze. I panicked, Max. I said I think she's my best friend, my closest friend and if you could've seen the look on her face... now I don’t know what to do. It’s messing with me."

"You idiot" a sharp toned voice makes the two look to the other side of the bed, a once sleeping P has now pulled her eye mask off, a dissatisfied look on her face. "She obviously likes you too Lando. You two are just too scared of actually facing how you truly feel. I literally had her confess to me last night before dinner"

Lando blinked in surprise, the realization hitting him harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Max, on the other hand, sat back with an amused expression, taking in the scene unfolding before him.

"Wait—what?" Lando managed after a beat, completely caught off guard.

Max let out a heavy sigh, his tone softening. "Lando, you’ve been dodging it for how long now? What did you expect? That she’d just magically figure it out? You’ve got to be honest with her, mate. If you really feel something for her, you can’t just pretend it’s nothing. You owe her the truth".

Lando nodded, taking in his friend’s words. "Yeah, you're right. I just... don’t want to mess things up more than I already have."

Max shook his head, a knowing look on his face. “You’ve got to take the chance, mate. Just... talk to her. Don’t wait any longer. I can't even begin to think about whats going on in her head right now- you pretty much shut her down”

Lando sat back down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn't believe me— I don't want her to think i'm playing with her feelings on purpose, it was a genuine lapse of judgement I panicked.”

"Well, that’s the risk, isn’t it?" Max replied, his voice matter-of-fact. "But at least you’ll know for sure. The worst thing you can do is keep holding back. You’re already in deep, mate. Just go for it."

Lando sat silently for a moment, taking in Max’s advice, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety swirling inside him. He knew Max was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. With a long sigh, he stood up from the bed, a new sense of determination in his steps.

“Alright,” Lando said, giving Max a look of appreciation.

Max gave him a reassuring nod. "Just don’t overthink it."

Lando nodded, heading for the door. Before he left, he turned back to P speaking up as she put her eye mask back on. “You know, if it goes horribly wrong, I’m gonna kick your ass for hurting her.”

Max chuckled, leaning back into the pillows. “Yeah, i'd take that as motivation to fix this. Go get her, Lando.”

As Lando walked down the hallway, his mind was set. He couldn’t let another day go by without telling Y/N how he felt. It was now or never.

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

Lando had been pacing around the kitchen for what felt like hours, trying to gather his thoughts. Max and P walk towards him, the nervous energy was starting to crawl back under his skin.

"Have you guys seen—" he started, but P immediately cut him off, her tone firm yet surprisingly quiet.

"What did you do?" she asked, a knowing look in her eyes as she crossed her arms. "I thought you left our room this morning ready to fix things between the two of you."

Lando's mouth went dry, his words caught in his throat. He shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling like he was fifteen again and in trouble with his parents. "I tried, I peeked in her room and she was sleeping and I felt bad i didn't want to wake her. I came back a few hours later she wasn't in her room" His voice was a little shaky, and his hands fumbled with the sleeve of his jacket as he tried to avoid their eyes.

P raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. "So you didn’t do it? That's why she won't leave her room" crossing her arms even tighter, clearly not buying his half-hearted excuse. "You’re seriously going to stand there and tell me you didn’t even try again?"

Lando swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling in. "I... I didn't know she was back. I don't even know where she went this morning— wait she won't leave her room?"

"She said she's feeling sick and that she caught a cold but she's clearly been crying. Lando she won't even tell me about what happened last night, she's hurting"

Max, who had been listening quietly. "Mate, you’re a mess," he said, sitting down on the counter with his arms crossed, his tone matter-of-fact. "You’ve been overthinking this for months now. It’s honestly exhausting. Now you've managed to drag her into this mess."

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration clear.

Max gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "Mate, you’re already screwing it up by not talking to her. Go up there and fix it"

P stepped forward, her voice a little gentler now, but still firm. "Just go talk to her. Tell her exactly how you feel. You’ll either get your answer, or you won’t. But you can’t keep pretending like nothing’s going on."

With a deep breath, he nodded. "I’ll go talk to her. Try to occupy the rest of the team while we're gone" He straightened up, trying to shake off the nervousness that had settled in his stomach like a knot.

Max smiled, though there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Don't worry, we'll figure something out. And Lando?" he called as he started to head for the door.

"Yeah?" he turned back, his mind already racing with what to say to her.

"Don’t come back until you’ve told her. And if you screw it up, you’re buying us dinner for a week" Max said with a wink.

Lando shot him a look, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "I’ll keep that in mind," he muttered, and with one final deep breath, he turned to head toward Y/N’s room.

This time, there was no turning back.

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

Another knock echoes through the room, causing Y/N to stir in her blanket cocoon. She sniffles and clears her throat, trying to hide the evidence of a long night’s worth of tears.

"P, I told you I’ll be fine. I don’t want anyone catching my cold. You guys go have fun," she calls out, her voice thick with exhaustion.

"It’s me," Lando’s voice filters through the door, catching Y/N off guard. She sits up quickly, her heart racing—what on earth could he want now?

Y/N hurriedly wipes at her face, but the mirror doesn’t lie. Her eyes are swollen, her cheeks streaked with dried tears, and her nose is a fiery red. She exhales in defeat.

With a soft groan, she cracks the door open "I already told Max and P I won’t be joining you guys," she says quietly, her voice heavy with guilt. "I’m really sorry, Lando. You should go... Everyone else is probably waiting."

Lando’s gaze softens, his brow furrowing as he steps closer, his tone gentle but knowing. "You’re upset about last night."

"I don’t know why I said what I said, but that’s not how I really feel," Lando insists, his voice laced with frustration, but the sight of the frown etched on Y/N’s face only deepens his anxiety.

Y/N’s gaze drops to the floor, her voice barely above a whisper, soft and tinged with hurt. "She told you, didn’t she?" The words feel like a weight she can’t shake off. She never imagined P would share something so personal, and now, she feels more exposed than ever.

Lando hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, well… technically, she overheard me talking to Max about last night and—"

"You told Max about last night?" Y/N interrupts. She lifts her gaze, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What, me trying to confess my feelings for you and you immediately dismissing it wasn’t embarrassing enough? You had to go tell Max?"

“Y/N, no! That’s not what I—" Lando stammers. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. "I like you. I’ve liked you for months now. Max was the only person I’ve told.” The confession spills out before he can stop it, and for the first time, a sense of relief washes over him.

Y/N’s expression falters, a deep frown settling on her face as she tries to process his words. "Don't do that... please," she says softly, almost pleading. Her voice cracks slightly as she shakes her head. "You don’t have to lie to make me feel better about this." She struggles to fully comprehend what he’s just said.

"But I'm not lying!" Lando insists, his voice filled with urgency. His hands shake as he tries to convey the truth, the weight of his feelings finally spilling out. "For months, I’ve been debating whether or not to act on it. I didn’t know if you felt the same way... I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t." He reaches out, his hand trembling as he gently tries to take hers, hoping for a sign that she might believe him.

Y/N is still caught in the confusion of it all, but as his hand brushes against hers, something settles in her chest. The warmth of his touch brings a surprising sense of comfort, and she swallows back the confusion that’s been choking her. "But... last night?" she asks quietly, her voice shaky.

Lando’s eyes soften, and he looks down, clearly conflicted. "I panicked," he admits, his words coming out in a rush. "You bringing up how we might feel about each other was the last thing on my mind. Fuck, I didn’t even think it was possible. All the scenarios I made in my head were about how I’d finally tell you... how much I wanted to be with you." He looks up at her then, vulnerable and raw, his expression filled with regret. "I was just so scared you wouldn’t feel the same."

Y/N takes a deep breath, her chest tight with emotion. She finally meets Lando's gaze, and the moment their eyes lock, it’s as if time slows. The words that have been tangled in her mind for so long finally slip free, and she whispers, "I do... feel the same way."

A small, almost hesitant smile begins to form on Lando’s face. It’s the kind of smile that tells her he’s been holding his breath, waiting for this moment, unsure if he’d ever hear the words he desperately needed to hear. His eyes soften as he takes a step closer, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s falling into place.

Lando’s hands gently cup her face, his touch tender and careful, as if she’s something precious he’s afraid of breaking. His thumbs lightly brush against her cheeks before he reaches up to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. He lets his fingers linger there for a moment, feeling the warmth of her skin under his touch, before his hand gently rests on the side of her neck.

There’s a quiet intensity in the air now, a shared understanding that neither of them wants to break.

Lando’s smile widens ever so slightly, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone in a way that sends a warm shiver down her spine. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that," he says softly, his voice still tinged with disbelief, as though he can’t quite believe this is happening.

Lando leans in, his forehead gently resting against hers, as if allowing the moment to sink in. There’s no rush, no need to fill the space with words anymore. All that’s left is the feeling between them—a feeling that says more than words ever could.

Lando’s breath catches as he hovers just inches from her face, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips. In a voice barely above a whisper, he murmurs, “I’m going to kiss you now.” his breath warm against her skin.

Y/N’s lips curl into a soft smirk, her eyes glinting with a mix of playfulness and something deeper. “About time,” she teases, her voice light, but there's a knowing edge to it. “For an F1 driver, you're quite slow.”

Lando’s eyes flash with amusement, a soft laugh escaping him as he shakes his head. “You’re lucky I really like you,” he responds, his voice warm with affection and the lingering hint of a smile. Before she can say another word, he closes the gap between them, his lips brushing gently against hers.

The kiss is slow at first, a gentle exploration, as if both of them are savouring the moment that’s been so long in the making. Lando’s hand moves to the back of her neck, pulling her a little closer as the kiss deepens, a surge of relief and longing finally being released between them. For all the uncertainty, the teasing, the games—they’re here now, and everything else fades away.

[treatbuckywkisses]

oh dear... im having war flashbacks i can't read this chapter (I can and will) lucky for me I can jump to the next part to immediately cure my broken heart 😭😭

Recognising it immediately as Bucky’s bedroom, you do a double take, checking to see if he’s in the bed beside you. You find your stomach sinks in disappointment when you realise you’re alone. this is so real bc why am i in Bucky's bed and bucky isn't here too 🤨🤨🤨

Though from your last recollection you were still beside him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you became sleepy - you could only speculate that Bucky carried you to his bed after that. SHUTUP SHUTUP SHUT UP !!!!! this is everything they're so domestic:( He CARRIED HER TO BED?????? he's so in love 

You offer to leave, so he can spend time alone with his family, but he’s adamant that you stay. Bucky’s sure he will only ever be able to find true contentment and happiness with you by his side, because when you’re elsewhere, there will always be a fragment of himself missing. ok so kiss already 🫶🏻 

“She’s the one who invited us around today, she thought seeing your family would be just the spark you need.” And that’s when he thinks his heart stops completely. You organised this? Without him asking or prompting in any way - you simply did it because you thought it would cheer him up? You knew exactly what he needed, what would brighten his day and you were content not taking the credit as long as he was happy? The most perfect idiots in love (heavy emphasis on IDIOTS) affectionately))  

The first person Bucky hugs as the credits roll is Sharon. Seeing him find solace in her arms is enough to push you to the edge - you need to get out of here. MY HEART:((((((( EM THIS IS SO PAINFUL 😖 

From The moment you describe Sharon the build up is so incredible:( the jealousy and comparisons are soooo realistic. Being stuck at work of all places and having to maintain your cool while spiraling on the inside about something only you know is such a stab in the gut:( and the heart. The writing is so well i almost forgot that the feelings were mutual until the pov changed:( the feeling of unrequited love is sooo heavy and you unfortunately write it so well 😭😭😭

Maria is a bitch for that stunt and I will not be forgiving her she needs to be fired. Cut her down boys! 

“No, Maria, I don’t want to do that, I’ve had enough of PR relationships.” You are all he wants. Bucky doesn’t want to have to hold hands, kiss and be excessively affectionate with someone else when it’s really you he wants to be able to do all those things, and more, with. He finds his palms are sweating at the mere thought of being able to do that with you, even if you don’t want that with him.  Literally we can get her executed i know it 

em you are such a genius who is so unfortunately for me good at angst :( this literally broke my heart for a second time😭😭😭 we have to stop this woman (em) bc how is she getting away with this (writing so beautifully????) 

Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) (3)

Actor!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You’ve barely had time to recover from the controversial interview the night before, but it’s time for Bucky to step into the limelight yet again for his movie premiere.

Warnings: body insecurity and mention of reader sucking her stomach in, idiots in love, soft fluff, shy & insecure reader, jealousy, multiple POV switches, miscommunication, angst (yes, you read that right, though it’s me so you shouldn’t be surprised)

Word count: 4.6k (I may have gotten a little carried away)

A/N: photo credit to @justarandomgirly, banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Sunshine creeps through the partly closed curtains, the brightness flickering against your closed eyelids causing you to wake from your serene slumber.

The bed is as soft as a marshmallow, and smells divine, like good quality fabric softener and an undeniable musky scent, which, when surrounding you entirely in the sheets, pillows and large duvet, is like coming home.

You’re still drowsy when you spread yourself out like a starfish, stretching all your joints that have become stiff with sleep. Which is when your brain kicks into gear and realises, in fact, this bed is much too large and comfortable to be your own.

Your eyes shoot open, and what you see confirms your suspicions that this indeed isn’t your bed. You’re met with a luxurious sized room, a large projector screen hanging from the ceiling against the wall opposite the king size bed and a chaise longue over in the corner beside a full length mirror.

Recognising it immediately as Bucky’s bedroom, you do a double take, checking to see if he’s in the bed beside you. You find your stomach sinks in disappointment when you realise you’re alone.

A soft meowing coming from the door catches your attention, but before you can shift positions too get a better look, a fluffy white cat jumps onto the bed and curls up beside your head. Much like his dad, Alpine was a little stand-offish at first, but once he became familiar with your presence, he’s been the most affectionate cat you’ve ever met.

“Good morning, handsome.” You murmur whilst reaching out to scratch under his chin. Alpine purrs in contentment. “C’mon, let’s see if your dad’s awake.”

James Barnes is of course not awake, though that doesn’t surprise you. He always needs a good eight hours of shut-eye, otherwise he’s in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.

Now that you’re wide awake, the memories of the previous night come back to you. In an attempt to distract Bucky from the chaos which would have been erupting online, you stayed up until four in the morning reminiscing, watching old movies and eating all the junk food in this extensive pantry.

Though from your last recollection you were still beside him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you became sleepy - you could only speculate that Bucky carried you to his bed after that.

You lean against the doorframe of his guest bedroom, coffee mug in hand and Alpine brushing against your leg as you take a moment to watch Bucky sleep. He looks so peaceful, his lips pressed together in a smile. You can’t prevent your mind from wandering to what exactly he dreams about when he closes his eyes at night, and the hope inflating like a balloon in your stomach that perhaps you have something to do with the subconscious smile he’s expressing.

After the ordeal the night before, you hate to wake him from the tranquillity he’s found for himself, rouse him into a day where all the headlines, both good and bad, will be about him, where his name will be trending on twitter, and all the gossip columnists will be speculating about who he’s dating and why he needs a prosthetic arm.

You wish you could protect him from the scandalous storm, but you also know he has a lot to do in preparation for his movie premiere tonight. The part of you who is employed as his assistant wins out this time.

“Bucky…” You coo gently from the doorway, hesitant to encroach on his personal space while he’s unconscious. You are just an assistant after all. Once you see him stir but not fully wake, you call softly again. “Buck, it’s time to get up.”

“Not yet.” He mumbles in response, making no effort to move or open his eyes, let alone get out of bed. You chuckle at how adorable he is when he’s tired. Most people would consider it being grumpy, you actually find it endearing.

“I made coffee.” You know those are the magical words to get Bucky Barnes moving for the day. He finally opens his eyes and they instantly meet yours, all you can think about is being the first thing he sees every single morning for the rest of his life.

“Thanks.” He says with a soft smile. “I’ll be right out.”

* * *

Bucky is still getting dressed when the doorbell rings.

He’s not expecting anyone, but he’s sure it’s just Maria coming over with last minute directives concerning the premiere tonight. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine at the thought of stepping out in front of all those cameras again so soon after last night's debacle. It’s horrible timing really, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice but to attend, however reluctantly.

He’s buttoning up his shirt when he hears the distinctive sound of a toddler laughing, and he instantly knows who has paid him a visit.

When he exits his bedroom he’s met with four smiling faces. You, his darling sister, his best friend and their beautiful daughter.

“Buba!” She calls, not quite able to say his name yet.

“We thought we’d pop around after everything that happened last night. Much like her favourite uncle, Jamie has an infectious smile, and we think you could use some of that today.” Becks comments as she tickles her daughter's tummy, making her giggle. Bucky finds that contagious smile spreading over his features as his sister hands him Jamie, who, by the way she’s squirming in his grip, seems very happy to see her uncle.

He didn’t know it when he woke up this morning, but this is exactly what he needs to take his mind off yesterday’s disaster and his impending public appearance tonight.

You offer to leave, so he can spend time alone with his family, but he’s adamant that you stay. Bucky’s sure he will only ever be able to find true contentment and happiness with you by his side, because when you’re elsewhere, there will always be a fragment of himself missing.

The rest of the morning is filled with smiles, laughter and pure joy. His schedule has been so busy the last couple months with finishing the production of the movie in a different city and the press tour, that there’s a lot to catch up on in little Jamie’s life, as well as that of her parents.

“When are you going to tell her?” Becks asks in a low voice as the two of them make lunch in the kitchen, but Bucky can’t take his eyes off the scene playing out in the living room. He’s far too invested in watching you babble, laugh and play with his niece, the miracle his sister and best friend named after him, to care about anything else in the world.

“Tell her what?” Bucky asks, not paying enough awareness, even to his own sister, to figure out what she’s implying.

“That you’re in love with her.” This, however, does capture his attention and are perhaps the only words Becks could have uttered in order for him to take his focus from you.

“How do you know?”

“The way you look at her. Like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted and all you’ll ever need. Everything you’ve waited for.” Bucky chuckles, his sister knows him too well for her own good and he knows there’s no point in trying to deceive her - she also happens to be far too smart for her own good too.

“How come I could never see that between you and Stevie before you told me you loved each other?” It was the love found between his sister and best friend that made Bucky truly believe he too could find a love with someone that would transcend the remainder of his life. It may have taken him a couple years after that, but he then finally met you, and all fell into place.

“Because you were oblivious. Still are actually.” It’s now Becks’ turn to chuckle, but in a way that makes Bucky feel like he’s missing some vital piece of information.

“Why still?”

“Because you clearly don’t realise she’s in love with you too.” Bucky's entire world stops. All he can feel is his heart thumping so forcefully in his chest it might burst at any moment.

“You think- no, no she isn’t… is she?” Only in his fantasies do you return his affections. He’s dreamed, sincerely hoped, that bashful smile and twinkle in your eye when he says anything remotely flattering about you is an indication of something beyond friendship, but he’s never let himself fully believe that in fear of having his heart completely crushed.

Could you really love him?

“She’s the one who invited us around today, she thought seeing your family would be just the spark you need.” And that’s when he thinks his heart stops completely. You organised this? Without him asking or prompting in any way - you simply did it because you thought it would cheer him up? You knew exactly what he needed, what would brighten his day and you were content not taking the credit as long as he was happy?

“Buck, take it from someone who waited far too long to tell the person they loved that they indeed loved them - don’t wait. Stevie and I danced around it for years because he’s your best friend and I’m your sister. If you love her, tell her. It might just be the best decision you’ve ever made. It was for me.”

And with that Becks pats Bucky on the shoulder and leaves him with his l thoughts as she joins her daughter for feeding time.

Tonight. I’ll tell her tonight, Bucky pledges to himself with a new found surge of courage.

He just needs to get through the anxiety of this damn movie premiere without someone asking him why he’s missing a limb before he does.

* * *

After you bid farewell to the Rogers family, realisation sets in that it’s time to prepare for the premiere. You can tell by how tense Bucky’s shoulders are that he’s not looking forward to the occasion, which is a shame because he’s put so much time and effort into making an entertaining film for it to all be ruined by one bully interviewer.

And that’s what you attempt to remind him of, but to no avail. There’s a sharp, stabbing pain in your gut at the thought that, at least this time, you’re not enough to be able to cheer him up.

However begrudgingly, Bucky allows you to take him meet with his stylist for the final reveal of his attire for the night. After the award show season, he wants to go with a slightly different look, and Bucky seems to welcome the change.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, strutting out in a navy blue suit with a cummerbund, doing a performative twirl just for you which makes you chuckle.

“I much prefer when I get to help you with a tie.” Is what you say, because you’re sure if you try to articulate how gorgeous he looks you’ll end up admitting he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. The memory of helping you fix his tie last night flashes in your mind and your cheeks heat at simply the recollection of being that close to him.

“I’ll have to remind the stylist only suits with ties from now on.” Bucky smiles, his hands twitching in a way you hope indicates he wishes you were within proximity to touch. “Oh, I also have a surprise for you!”

He ducks back into the dressing area and for the minute it takes for him to return, excitement and suspense grow in your stomach. When Bucky comes back, he has a garment bag in his hands and a cheeky grin on his face.

“Try this on for me.” You try to protest, to object to him having spent any amount of money on you, but when he forces the garment into your arms and directs you to the dressing room with his large hands on your waist, you’re putty in his hands.

“Can you zip me up please?” You ask nervously, as you walk back out to model the gown for Bucky. You turn around and a wave of vulnerability overcomes you as he stares at your bare back. He slowly makes his way over to you, hands careful as he zips up the gown.

He looks at you in awe, but you’re sure it’s just because he’s used to seeing you in a pair of jeans and a band tee rather than an elegant dress.

“Bucky, I can’t accept this… this is far too beautiful and expensive.” You advise, though you're too busy admiring how the dress fits in the reflection of the mirror to fully appreciate the absolutely enamoured expression he’s regarding you with.

“Doll, it was made just for you, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste would you?” He says with a smile, unable to take his eyes off the dress and how perfectly it fits your body. He knows he’s going to have not so innocent dreams about it tonight.

“Thank you Buck, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“No, you’ve already done so much for me, more than you know, please, let me do this for you.” You don’t push the matter any further, but make sure to express your gratitude again before leaving for the premiere. After feeling so out of place during the recent award show season, it means the world that Bucky would do this for you.

You feel confident in your custom dress when you arrive, not only because the gown you’re wearing actually fits you properly, unlike every other second hand dress you’ve worn to important events, but because of the way Bucky looks at you while you’re wearing it.

But when you get separated, him moving to the red carpet along with all the other exquisitely dressed celebrities and notable attendees, and you with the behind the scenes help, the distance between you allows space for doubt and uncertainty to creep in.

You watch Bucky greet his co-star, the gorgeous Sharon Carter. You can’t deny it, she looks absolutely stunning. Perhaps more than stunning, if that’s possible. A woman out of a man’s sexual fantasy.

A fire red dress plunges down her front, a long slit in the side shows off her tall, slim legs and taught material over her abdomen and hips leaves no room for questioning how flat her stomach is and the desirable curves of her waist. It makes you suck your stomach in, suddenly overly insecure about how your body looks in your gown.

It’s hard to breathe watching Bucky looking at her with such a genuine smile and an eagerness in his eyes that you could only describe as attraction. And that even though they’re in front of flashing cameras and being recorded for the entire world to see, you can see that he’s not feigning a second of it.

Everyone in attendance is abuzz with comments of how dashing they both look, but more notable, what a breathtaking couple they make.

Bucky’s hand slides lower and rests on the curves of her waist, making jealousy spread through your body and stomach churn with insecurity.

The ache in your chest is the painful reminder that it is only in your imagination where he is yours, even if in every version of reality you will always be his.

From that moment on you find it difficult to truly concentrate on the importance of the occasion, or the anticipation of seeing a blockbuster film before the majority of the world. You’re too caught up in the self doubting thoughts bouncing around your head like in a pinball machine.

The movie itself goes by in a blur. You try your best to remind yourself that Bucky’s playing a fictional character, but it’s difficult to sit through two hours of the sexual tension between him and Sharon which ultimately ends in a steamy sex scene.

The chemistry between them is tangible and you recognise that spark in his eye on the big screen as the same way he looked at her on the red carpet. It’s easy to convince yourself that there will never be that electrifying magnetism between you two when not only have they shown it while filming a movie for six months, but also have exhibited it right in front of your eyes tonight.

By the time the movie ends, it feels like someone’s sitting on your chest, every breath agonising, even though you have no right to be jealous. He’s not yours, he’s your boss, he’s never vocalised any romantic interest in you and quite clearly he’s capable of doing much better than you anyway.

The first person Bucky hugs as the credits roll is Sharon. Seeing him find solace in her arms is enough to push you to the edge - you need to get out of here.

As the cast is preoccupied by all the recognition and acknowledgements, you take the window of opportunity to slip out the side door, needing the fresh air and space between the setting bringing you so much anxiety.

You think you’ve escaped inconspicuously until you hear a door closing behind you. The way Bucky’s voice calls your name is like a warm embrace in the cold, lonely night and compels you to stop.

“Where are you going?” He enquires as he catches up to you, a confused furrow in his brow.

“I’m sorry Bucky, it was all becoming a bit too much for me in there, I just want to head home.” The concern brimming in his eyes is enough to make your knees weak and for you to forget that you’re actually incredibly insecure and jealous right now. Bucky knows you don’t like crowds so that’s the excuse you’ll stick with.

“Doll, why didn’t you just tell me? Let me drive you.” He offers thoughtfully without any further questioning.

“Bucky this is your night, you should be celebrating with your friends not driving me anywhere.” Your last wish is to inconvenience him, that’s why you attempted to leave unnoticed, because in the back of your mind you knew Bucky’s benevolent enough to try something like this on a night that should instead be dedicated to him.

“I want to make sure you get home safe. Please.” He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes you intrinsically know you’ll never be able to say no to, those same eyes which regard you with a tenderness you’re only familiar with from him, that make you feel more beautiful and treasured than all of the precious gemstones money can buy.

“Okay.” It should perhaps concern you how quickly you yield to him, but the elated smile which forms on Bucky’s face as you do is reward enough for conceding so easily. That, and the knowledge that if he’s with you, he’s not with Sharon.

“Thank you!” He exclaims, as if you’re the one doing him the favour instead of the other way around. His large hands cup your face as he leans in and kisses your forehead, much too quickly for your liking because before you’re even able to savour the feel of his touch he’s pulling away and rather all you can feel is the cold absence of where his contact was the moment before.

Bucky can see the shiver which runs down your spine and shrugs off his jacket before you even have the opportunity to protest.

“Here, take this, can’t have you feeling cold.” He places the large jacket around you without hesitation, making sure the shoulders are aligned correctly before his hands smooth down your arms before finishing in your hands. His proximity makes you feel dizzy and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how sweaty your palms are. Bucky looks down at you, eyes briefly flickering down to your lips as he licks his own, before settling on your eyes. Your desire to kiss him is about to overrule every professional instinct you’re attempting to exert, when he opens his mouth to speak. “Just wait right here, I need to say a quick goodbye to some people but I’ll be right back to take you home. I promise.”

He squeezes your hands as reassurance and before you’re even able to process the glint in his tender eyes, he’s disappeared inside.

You pull his jacket tighter around you as the wind picks up, losing yourself in the same captivating musky scent you were surrounded by this morning in his bed sheets. It’s soothing and reminds you that it was in fact you who was comforting him last night when he broke down. Not Sharon. You.

“Are you heading off?” A familiar voice asks. You look up to find Maria taking a drag of a cigarette, and for a rationale you’re unsure of, your grip on Bucky’s jacket becomes tighter.

“Yeah, Bucky’s driving me home.” You say with a smile you can’t suppress.

“Oh darling, he can’t leave the celebrations yet. He’s the star of the show!” Maria takes one last puff of her cigarette before she stamps it out with her red bottom shoes you’re sure cost more than your month's rent.

“But he-”

“Besides, I’m sure he’d much rather go home with his girlfriend.” If her words don’t kill you first the nonchalant tone she uses to implode your entire world just might.

“Girlfriend?” You choke out.

“Sharon - I mean, you saw how cosy the two of them were today? They’ve gotten awfully close after all those long months playing love interests.” Simply hearing her name makes your heart clench and brings back the suffocating envy you were feeling mere minutes ago.

“I guess.” Is all you can manage to say.

“Look, darling, you’ve had a long couple days working, you should head home! There’s a taxi rank just around the corner.” Maria almost pushes you forward, but with how weak and pliant you’ve become with self doubt, your body puts up no resistance. You mumble a quick goodnight before your feet shuffle you the rest of the way to the cab stand.

There was a small part of you that hoped, perhaps even believed, that Bucky reciprocated the overwhelming feelings of love and devotion you held for him.

Over time you’ve needed to syphon off larger and larger segments of your heart to be able to store your ever growing feelings for him and all the memories you’d made with him you refused to forget, until you realised that small section had instead become your entire, overflowing heart.

And you pondered that when Bucky looked at you like he didn’t even want to blink in fear of missing out on a single second with you, perhaps that’s what he was doing too.

But why should you trust your instincts when they’ve led you astray so many times before? When all it’s resulted in was the pain of heartbreak and rejection.

Why would Bucky Barnes, renowned playboy and the biggest movie star in the world, be any different?

To your dismay, it turns out he isn’t.

* * *

Bucky leaves the celebration with a pep in his step.

He’s going to take you home and tell you how he feels.

He can’t help the nervous twisting of his stomach at the thought of baring his heart to you. Revealing that his soul has become intertwined with yours and you carry his fragile heart wherever you go, but that there’s simply no one else in the entire world he wants nor trusts more to have that privilege.

He’s about to reveal his most closely guarded secret, open his heart and expose his most vulnerable side to you with the prospect of complete rejection. And as much as it scares him half to death, he’s taking his opportunity. Becks believes you love him, and that’s about as sure as he can be.

When Bucky rounds the corner, Maria is standing alone exactly where he left you and his heart squeezes tightly with anxiety.

“Where is-”

“She left, said she needed to get home and didn’t want to wait for you.” Maria informs flatly, but Bucky can’t believe it. You’re always so patient, so accommodating to his insanely hectic schedule, had you really grown tired of waiting on him?

“She left?” Bucky can hear the distress in his own voice. He looks around, desperately confused, feeling an abyss being carved into his chest as the realisation of your departure sets in.

He told you to wait right here.

He promised he’d be right back.

He was going to tell you he loves you…

Even though Maria confirmed otherwise, part of him expects to see you standing there, wearing his jacket over your shoulders and that shy smile of yours which makes his stomach perpetually flip. But there is nothing aside from the faint music reverberating from inside, and a cool breeze that reminds him you’ve left with his jacket, and his heart, without so much as a goodbye.

“She’s off the clock Bucky, no wonder she wants to go do her own thing, she’s not getting paid to cater to your every whim 24 hours a day. Besides, this gives us a chance to chat. I have to talk to you about Sharon Carter.” Maria platonically drapes her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and directs him back inside without knowing her words are like a knife to his chest.

Of course you want to do your own thing, you have a life outside of being his assistant, you don’t want to be around him every second of every day working. That’s why you were in such a rush to leave tonight.

How could he be stupid to mistake you doing your job for anything more?

“What about Sharon?” He doesn’t want to deal with any work talk right now, all he wants is to go home and nurse his bruised heart by himself.

“I’ve talked with her management, and we’ve agreed to push the angle that you two are dating.”

“No, Maria, I don’t want to do that, I’ve had enough of PR relationships.” You are all he wants. Bucky doesn’t want to have to hold hands, kiss and be excessively affectionate with someone else when it’s really you he wants to be able to do all those things, and more, with. He finds his palms are sweating at the mere thought of being able to do that with you, even if you don’t want that with him.

“James, it’s already in motion. Everyone’s speculating about who you’re dating after last night's interview, so we pushed the story before the red carpet tonight to drum up buzz about the movie. It’s perfect timing!”

Dread settles in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. The next week will be filled with press for the new movie and he’s going to have to play the part of Sharon’s devoted boyfriend when all he craves is to be yours. This was a nightmare he desperately wanted to wake up from.

Two hearts, connected in a way even their owners don’t understand, go to sleep that night feeling more alone and unloved than ever before, when in actuality they both dream of the same thing: being with each other.

Part 4 > >

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