#but on the other hand all signs point to Something is wrong with you (rare edition) which OF FUCKING COURSE. it would be

[intrepidacious]

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

[slyblonder]

King for a Day

MDNI

Youth Pastor!Mingi x GN!Reader

warnings: sex(gross ikr), its just a blowjob, mentions of fingering, throat fucking, spit mention, hair pulling, tears (Dacryphilia), i cant think of anything else ngl

word count: 1.9k (first long fic les gooo)

“You might want to get an early start on your Hail Marys then.”

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit..Amen.”

Following along you made a cross on your body. This will not be the only time you do this today, and it certainly won't be the last.Mingi and his father had just moved into town, the new pastor and his insanely hot youth pastor son. You had to have him. You needed him like no other. “Lord forgive me for what I do later.” Fixing your dress as you got up, smiling at all the families that passed by you.

You were never the religious kind, you never participated in church, hell you rarely even came to service. But as soon as you caught a look of Mingi you were already in your closet picking out an outfit. You’d always try your best to match him. His outfits were very simple and appropriate but also so slutty somehow. It could be all his rings and chains but once you start thinking about it your mind wonders, thinking about how his chains would look dangling in your face. You shook those thoughts out of your head, saying bye to the last few families to leave.

Upon Mingis arrival to your town you were quick to sign up as an assistant. You didn't care about them damn kids nor the lord but here you were every sunday, helping by his side teaching about the lord.

“Thank you so much for your help today. I know it was a lot harder since we had a full house.” Mingi spoke, making you jump a bit. That’s the other thing about him that had you so enamored..His voice. It was so deep and husky but so soothing. You could listen to him for hours.

“It's no problem Mingi, you did great like always. I’m just happy we let out early today.” You moved out of the pew to now stand face to face with him. “I get to hang out with my favorite person.”

Mingi looked at you with confusion and sight shock, pointing at himself. “M-me?”

Despite his “cold” and “dark” image Mingi was a very gentle and even cute person. Any and everyone could see that. “Yes, you. Why do you think I help you out so much? Why I’m always by your side? Why I’m always at your beck and call?” You watched as his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. Cute. Walking closer to him he seemed frozen, closing his eyes briefly as if waiting for something eagerly.

“You’re so cute like this…flustered and pretty.” Walking closer you stopped right in front of him, leaning up to his ear with a smirk. “If only the heavens knew how beautiful you look right now.”

“y/n I…w-what's going o-on…” You placed a quick kiss on his cheek, watching as his eyes popped open. He looked as if he saw a ghost but the tint of pink never left his face.

“Ever since you knocked on our door holding that gift basket, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You looked so fucking good Mingi. I wanted you, I needed you. So I signed up to help, anything to be closer to you. Not only did my urges to have you get stronger, I started to grow feelings for you.”

Mingi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This is everything he ever dreamed of. Yeah, he was the pastor's son and had to keep up an innocent persona;but it was quite the opposite. As much as he was devoted to his faith he could never shake the thought of you ever since he saw you. He wanted to hold you, take in your scent…devour you. Mingi knew it would be wrong and go against his faith, but he couldn’t help but imagine such sinister acts with you.

“You’re very bad at hiding your gaze, Min. I see you stare and used to think nothing of it. 'oh, he's not looking at me, he's just giving his attention like usual…’ until I bent down and saw you staring at my chest.” You took a step back and watched his reaction with a smirk. His hands were balled up, his face still a visible pink, and a much more visible print in his pants appeared. You could tell from the way he stood there he was virgin but not in the slightest innocent.

“I- I tried to hide it…”

“Not well enough.”

Mingi bit his lip before starting to mumble.

“Wouldn’t you like to feel like a king for a day or even forever? I think you liked it.” You spoke with a small laugh moving to sit Mingi in the pew. He sat there and watched your every move, waiting for you to pounce on him.

“Y/n please… I can’t get the thought of you out of my head. I ache for you.” These words sounded like music to your ears. Mingi wanted you, ached for you, needed you. Moving into the pew you sat on his lap, feeling how big he was instantly and watching him let out a soft whimper.

“You might want to get an early start on your hail marys then.” You placed small and slow kisses on his neck, moving up to his jaw, sucking lightly. He sounded so fucking needy, and you to wanted to hear him scream in pleasure but decided to spare him.

“H-hail Mary, full of grace…The L-lord is with thee fuck y/n-“

“Don’t stop, keep going.” You began to bite at his skin, leaving small marks that would disappear pretty quickly. “Blessed art t-thou amongst wo- ahh…women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” Mingi finally allowed his hands to rest at your waist, gripping tightly with each bite. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us s-sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.”

“Amen indeed, I can’t believe I have you all to myself Min. You sound so pretty under me. You’re already so hard for me, I think I should do something about that huh?” You laughed a little as Mingi began to nod very quickly, begging to feel something more. Moving off his lap you found a way to kneel in front of him. It was a little uncomfortable but such a small price to pay for what was in store. Mingi took a second to look at you, taking in how pretty you looked in front of him. He mindlessly reached for your cheek and smiled, knowing there was no going back once you started and he was okay with that.

You wasted no time and began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, biting your lip as you could see his print more and more. Lifting his hips Mingi helped you pull his boxers and pants down to his mid thigh, giving you more than enough access. Mingi was big. Bigger than most you’ve been with, you were determined to take all you were given. “Please…do something…” Looking up at him doe eyed you licked a stripe up his shaft, smiling as you finally got a taste of him.

Licking up his precum you took as much of him as you could, moaning and slightly gagging at how full your mouth was. Mingis hand quickly moved to hold onto one of the ponytails, bucking his hips at the sudden warmth. Your mouth felt amazing, he was sure he'd cum in no time if you kept it up.. “Your mouth feels better than I imagined fuck..” Mingi moaned, throwing his head back trying his best to keep as quiet as possible. The worst part is if someone walked in right now, he would care less. All his prayers were being answered right before him.

Tears ran down the side of you face as you let Mingi fuck your throat. He was a lot more rough than you imagined but damn did it turn you on. You let your hands travel between your legs, slipping into your underwear and inserting two fingers to fill yourself up more. Feeling so stretched out you let out a moan sending vibrations up Mingis cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Lord, please, please please forgive me.” Hearing him beg for forgiveness turned you on so much, inching close to your own release.

You sped up your pace, fingering yourself fast and sucking off Mingi even faster. Every cell in Mingis body felt like it was on fire; He's never felt this kind of pleasure before and hopes that this will never be the last. Mingi grabbed onto both your pigtails, practically hunched over your body. If anyone had walked in right this moment they would just think he was praying. “yn i-im cumming! im cumming oh—oh my god…thank you, thank y-you.”

Cumming down your throat felt amazing to Mingi. From your face stained with tears, spit, and cum; your legs sore and shaking from cumming so hard. You both stayed like that for a second, Mingi finally sitting back breathing heavily. You lifted off his cock, making sure you swallowed everything and taking a deep breath.

“You have a thing for being rough, it's hot. You should also be thanking me, I just gave you the best blowjob ever.” You smiled, moving to place the two fingers you used to fuck your self in Mingis mouth. “A small taste of what's to come. Literally.”

You laughed and used his legs to help you get up, sitting right next to him in the pew. “Y-you want to do this again?” Mingi asked, shocked since he has yet to catch his breath properly.

“I told you I can make you feel like a king for a day, or forever. I think we both want forever…unless I'm wrong?” You searched to see where your bag was, reaching into the pew behind you and pulling it into your lap and searching for wipes to clean you both up.

“No! I mean, you're not wrong…I would really like that,I just feel like I'm still dreaming…” Taking the wipe he was handed, he cleaned up any excess spit and around his thighs before pulling up his boxers and pants.

“Dream or not, I’m all yours Mingi. I’m heavily devoted to you.” He looked at you with so much awe and lust, wiping your stray tears and smiling softly.

“I’m more than willing to sin for you, dream and reality.” And he meant that, no amount of repentance will make up for it and he was okay with that.

“You should come over this weekend, My parents are gonna be out of town. We can see how devoted we are to each other, like the lord wants.” You spoke soft, moving to whisper into his ear before pulling back and giving him a quick peck. “See you soon Mingi, or should I say pastor Song.”

Mingi watched as you picked up your bag and waved bye with such a sinister grin, you truly were a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He sat there and thought back on everything he just experienced, chuckling at how lucky he just got.His prayers were definitely answered. Thanks God. He shook his head and moved to kneel down, folding his hands and bowing his head. Might as well get an early start right? “Hail Mary, forgive me, blood for blood, hearts beating…”

©️slyblonder

——————

a/n :I FINALLY DROPPED THIS FIC OMG!! Sorry i took so long yall, life started turning me every way but loose and then also starting a new job drained me. But enjoy I hope yall like it, if not also lmk you hate it🗿 okay byee love youu

tags:

@slvtiny @pandoora-the-pink-goth @pearltinyy

#ateez #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi #ateez mingi #mingi fluff #mingi scenarios #mingi fanfic #song mingi smut #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #slyblonder

[demonicbaby666]

The Couch

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Supercorp

Genre: Fluff and eventual smut

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, Kara being an absolute cutie ig, fingering, oral sex, overstimulation (it's unintentional)

Summary: Just two friends casually sleeping together far too regularly on a worn-out couch. What could go wrong?

A/n: She’s not perfect, but it’s been a month and I desperately needed to get something out there! Promise to be more on my writing game. Also a big thank you to my wife @hotchscvm for being my beta reader and hyping me up <3

The first time was an accident. After too many potstickers (on Kara's part) and too many pages read from her spell book (on Lena's part), they'd ended up on the couch, dozing side by side. In retrospect, it was late, and while staying up to spend more time with each other sounded like a good idea, it probably would have been a better idea to host the impromptu feast at one of their apartments. But that is neither here nor there because the fact still remained: they'd always feel so at home with each other that falling asleep on concrete would probably come as easy as it would a plump mattress. 

Sometime in the night, Lena had managed to topple over on her side, taking her best friend down with her, and either Kara was too exhausted to care or too sleepy to notice because the half-arsed excuse of a cuddle was taken in kind with one muscled arm slipping around a curved waist. Kara had never shied away from intimacy, especially with Lena, but as she groggily slung her arm around her best friend, happily snuggling into her fragrant neck, the beginnings of something very not platonic began tampering away in her chest. It all felt daunting, yet wonderfully and irrefutably natural. 

Everything was all well and good for a while. They both slept better than they had in weeks. That was until a few hours later, when the sun had just started to peak over neighbouring spires, and the pair rose from their sleep to discover the true meaning of back pain. Of course, neither pointed out that if they had gone home rather than finished the duration of their uncomfortable slumber in each other's embrace, the agony would have been much more manageable. Still, once again, this was never mentioned. Instead, Lena took to teasing Kara about the drool drying at the corner of her mouth, and Kara's rebuttal was to mention the bird's nest atop Lena's head.

The second time was a week later when Kara returned from a nightly patrol to find Lena snoozing alone. The brunette had taken advantage of the couch's full length; her legs bent to accommodate the sparse leg room, and she had a cushion wedged under her head that had definitely seen better days. Other than that, Kara was reasonably convinced Lena seemed comfortable. Kara did try not to stare, but after minutes spent wandering about and trying to find something to do, and there definitely was bound to be something if she was actually looking as hard as she had convinced herself she was, Kara relented and returned to Lena. 

She watched as the brunette's chest rhythmically rose and fell, how her mouth was slightly parted to allow tiny sighs to tumble out, and couldn't help but smile as her chest warmed at the sight of the way Lena had her arm flung over her forehead, hand flying over the side of the couch. It was a sign, Kara recognised, that meant Lena was, for once, having a rested sleep rather than the usual - broken and fragmentary. That was why she told herself she didn't wake her or risk it by flying her home. There was nothing selfish about it. In fact, she was being selfless by relishing the notion she was probably one of the very few people who got to see Lena that way - open and bare, not always on guard or the look for any sign of danger. Of course, Kara saw glimpses of it when they were together, but it was rare. So, getting to truly see Lena when she was so unguarded was remarkable in Kara's eyes. 

It felt right when she walked over and knelt beside the roughspun fabric of the couch to get a closer look, like there was some injustice to picking out the details of such a pretty picture from afar that had been corrected. Now, if it had been anyone else, Kara would have worried her behaviour was bordering on creepy. Still, it was Lena, her Lena, and simply listening to that strong, steady heartbeat warmed Kara's chest. It quieted all the clattering and commotion of National City. The conversations, the arguments, the music, the car engines, everything fell silent to Lena's familiar heartbeat, and Kara would be damned to ever apologise for finding calm in that, so she continued to watch. That, she could admit, was selfish. 

As much as sleep may dull one's senses, Lena was becoming keenly aware she wasn't alone. Usually, her first instinct would be to fight, but when she blinked her eyes open and was met with the human version of a golden retriever, she couldn't help but smile sleepily. 

"Hi," Kara whispered, placing both knuckles under her chin and continuing to stare with childlike wonder sparkling in her eyes. 

"Hi," Lena replied weakly. Only she found she was not weak from sleep or the dull ache in her cramped legs. She was weak from the way Kara was staring. It made her feel naked and exposed like she was on trial for the crime of being known and still loved. She saw it in those blue eyes - pure adoration and devotion, and it terrified her how Kara could look at her like that when she'd seen her at her worst, when she'd hurt Kara in unforgivable ways and carried the same genes as people who damn near wanted her dead. 

She was weak for losing herself in the blue whirls of her best friend's eyes, the golden flecks that circled her pupils - yet another thing that made her seem unreal. Her fingers twitched as she mentally traced the little scar by Kara's left eyebrow, wanting desperately to reach out and feel the mark of a distant memory from Krypton. Lena thought better of it, knowing the intimacy of the act would mean stepping into dangerous territory. Instead, she shuffled to the side, cramming herself against the back of the couch and extending a silent invitation, one Kara understood immediately, and if her joyous smile was anything to go by, she was more than happy to accept. 

Kara lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think of how good it felt to have the warmth of Lena's body so close. After a few minutes in her log-like position, she cautiously raised an arm in question. The proximity between them was nil, so what was the damage in being a little closer? Her bravery was instantly rewarded with a weight falling on her chest and a slim finger tracing the raised fabric along her chest. And as many a time before, everything around her, except Lena, ceased to exist, and Kara found herself lulled by the steady thrum of a familiar heartbeat. 

The third time, Kara told herself, it was completely and utterly necessary. Suppose she didn't comfort Lena when she felt like utter shit. It would quite literally be the end of the world. She was sure of it. Solely because of that, Kara hunted the brunette down, finding her in a dimly lit room, a set of fresh tears trickling slowly down her cheeks. A series of angry lines marked Lena's blanched cheeks rouge, the colour of heartbreaking remembrance. There was a distinct look in her eyes, resembling a wounded pup. Only Lena had never been helpless like one. She'd been alone the majority of her adult life, fighting. And she'd come out the other end stronger for it; that was undeniable, but what would always remain were the chronic wounds of her hardships. 

Kara remained in the doorway, unsure her presence would be welcome. The more she saw, the heavier her chest felt. The details were the worst: the way Lena clasped her hands so tightly together, yet they still shook, the glossed-over sheen to her eyes, the way her jaw shook with each silent cry, and most of all, the raw hiccups that only Kara could pick up, wearing away at Lena's throat every time she tried to keep herself quiet. 

Clearing her throat, Kara lightly padded over. The brunette's mind was so far away that by the time Kara was crouching down and delicately separating her woven hands, taking each within her own, she'd just about registered that she was no longer alone looking with puffy eyes. Kara tried to offer a sympathetic smile, but it was excruciatingly painful when the woman she adored radiated so much pain she felt within herself, too. She was helplessly searching her mind for something to say, anything that could encompass what Lena was feeling or take it all away, but she knew nothing in her vocabulary could. 

Kara got to her feet, taking Lena with her. There was no complaint. Lena simply complied, no energy left in her to fight, no reason to fight someone wholly trusted. She let herself be taken from one room and led into another, her mind turned off and tuned only to how soft the hand guiding her forward felt - how it was already calming her racing pulse. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kara asked, sitting down on the far side of the couch, encouraging Lena to join her by keeping their hands clasped. Lena followed willingly, though she kept quiet, staring at the margin between the couch cushions, each frayed piece of string taking her interest individually. 

Kara gave Lena a once over, this time honing into every detail as quickly as possible so Lena didn't feel uncomfortable. She noticed a handful of things: the shine to Lena's hair was no longer there, and her perfume was only vaguely present, but what Kara saw first was the darkened ring under Lena's swollen eyes, and that's when she gathered what had been happening. 

"It's the nightmares again, isn't it?" Kara quietly asked, squeezing Lena's hand once, twice, and holding tight to show this was in no way an invasion of privacy but a rope for the brunette to take so Kara could help pull her out of the pit she'd fallen into. A tiny whimper confirmed her guess, and that's when Kara took action. She ignored Lena's creased brow when she untangled their hands, scootched closer, looped her arms around Lena's waist and hauled her onto her lap. It was a risky move, given that this was most definitely not the most platonic position. However, any fear and regret instantly faded when she heard a sigh and felt Lena's head nestle into her neck. She held her tight and let Lena take whatever she needed from the embrace. Gently, Kara used one hand to brush through chestnut hair, keeping one hand around a slim waist. Emboldened by Lena's willingness, Kara lowered her head, turned it to the side, and kissed her barely visible cheek. 

"Can we stay here tonight?" Lena finally whispered, and Kara's whole body responded in kind, buzzing in anticipation. 

"Of course," she replied into the silky softness of Lena's hair. She breathed in, knowing before the exact scents that would coax their way through her airways, only to erupt into a swarming storm in her stomach - herbal shampoo complemented by nodes of bittersweet honey tea, the kind you'd drink when trees began to lose their leaves and your body hadn't yet adjusted to the drop in temperature. "Whatever you need, Lee, I'll do it."

"You, Kara Zor-el, are my hero, not Supergirl, you," Lena pulled back to confess, her worn-out eyes glinting in low light as she stared intently, watching Kara's eyes gaze right back. They stayed staring for seconds, a minute; neither knew. They simply accepted that it didn't feel wrong, it didn't feel awkward, it felt safe and warm, like coming back home after a trainwreck of a day or seeing the sun finally peak from behind the rainclouds. 

Finally, Lena ducked back down and allowed herself to let go, wetting Kara's neck with a fresh set of tears. 

After that, it became a weekly occurrence, then bi-weekly, tri-weekly and well, then they didn't bother trying to count how many times a week they found excuses to fall asleep in each other's arms. The couch grew new additions that no one mentioned but thoroughly enjoyed: a luxuriously soft blanket folded neatly over the side, a kitschy cushion from Kara's apartment and new upholstery. Neither spoke of their shared nights, not even with each other. It became taboo, a dirty secret between two willing participants. They both knew that, for one reason or another, they were crossing boundaries, leading them into dangerous territory. However, not acknowledging it seemed enough to fend off the intrusive thoughts. 

After a particularly long day at the tower, Kara and Lena found themselves in the same place they had always wound up in when everyone had left. Their limbs entangled, and their bodies so close Lena was essentially lying atop Kara, with her head comfortably nestled on the blonde's chest. Usually, the pair would find sleep quickly enough, but something was different that night. Sleep didn't come so easy, with the day's events weighing heavy. 

"What are you thinking about," Kara asked, breaking the comfortable quietude.

Lena didn't have to think twice before answering, "How I never want to lose you." 

There were a few bouts of silence. Kara let Lena's words sink in before speaking again, "What do you mean?" 

"Every day, you go out and protect the people of this world, even if it means risking your own life." Lena mindlessly played with the collar of Kara's sweater, trying to casualise the severity of what she was saying. Kara could sense the tension brewing in Lena and began to draw soothing circles up and down her back. 

"It's who I am, Lee. My powers mean I can help people; it's my duty to do so," Kara sighed, pressing her lips to Lena's head. 

"I know. But I just worry I won't see you fly back through the tower doors, that I won't be able to do enough to help you, and I'll lose the only person that's ever seemed to," she paused, the l word anxiously sitting on her tongue. "That I'll lose the one person who has always stood by me. It's selfish, I know." 

A tidal wave of emotions washed over Kara. She stayed motionless for at least a minute, processing all Lena had said, and failed to say. 

"Lena, look at me," she ordered. 

They were both helplessly reminding themselves that this is what friends do: they're allowed to cuddle, they're allowed to fall asleep together, and they're allowed to feel like they complete each other in a way no one else probably could. The pure definition of slumber parties is deep conversations where confessions are made, so of course, this is all normal and strictly platonic and nothing more. Except when their eyes met, the look they shot at one another was anything but friendly. It was desperate and demanding, taking all the oxygen out of the room and leaving them breathless. Kara could hear Lena's heartbeat, frantic, from anticipation, excitement, or fear, she didn't know. 

"I will never leave you. I'm not going anywhere." 

"You can't promise me that." 

Kara cupped Lena's cheeks in her palms, gently holding her still, "You're right, I can't, but I can promise that I will always fight to come back home to the people I love– to come back to you." Her eyes flickered between Lena's eyes and lips. "I love you, Lena."

"You don't have to say that," Lena choked out. 

"I meant it," she stated in a hushed voice, eyes firmly planted on soft lips. "Lena, come here." 

"Kara," Lena pleaded in a weak whisper, battling the fuzzy feeling that was stirring beneath her fingertips. Lena could scarcely breathe, her throat constricting with each passing second because Kara was looking at her the same way she always did, and she was so very weak to stop herself from looking back and letting the air be stolen from her lungs. Kara pulled her closer until their lips were a hair's width away, and then she chose to wait. Her intentions were clear, but she knew it had to be Lena who would make the final move. And she did. Lena closed the minimal space between their lips, ignoring the rapid pace of her thudding heart. As expected, Kara's lips were perfect, acceptant to let Lena take the lead and demanding nothing in return. 

Soon enough, both got lost in the delicacy of a slow makeup session. Kara made a great effort to reign in her zeal, only encouraging Lena with a slide of her hands down to a supple waist and aiding the brunette atop her when she heard no protest. The two found themselves upright, Lena's knees cocooning Kara's hips, their core pressed against one another enough to raise their body temperatures. With the slide of the super's tongue along a plump lip and the compliant opening of the brunette's mouth, their slow and tempered kiss tilted more towards eager and desperate. Kara had scarcely noticed her hands sliding down to grip Lena's ass. She wholly gave herself to instinct and desire, guiding Lena back and forth in a grinding motion. 

"Kara," Lena moaned, throwing her head back and struggling to hold herself still when Kara instantly went to suckle at her neck. "Not here. Take me home." 

The blonde didn't need to be told twice; she hauled herself up, taking Lena with her, and allowed the other woman's feet to briefly touch the ground before she picked her up bridal style and shot out the balcony doors. The city was bursting with life. Laughter echoed off every surface and bounced up into the night sky. The noise sought to pollute Kara's senses, yet the blonde didn't even have to try to fight off the background noise because all she was focused on was Lena's smile, and her residing bouts of childlike laughter. It was perfection - holding Lena close, feeling her body heat against the crisp evening wind. 

All the withheld desire flooded their senses the moment they landed on Lena's balcony. Kara burst into the apartment, brain muddled with the ghostly feel of velvety lips all over her throat. She used her super speed to whisk them to the bedroom, gently placing Lena down and climbing atop her. 

"Hi," Lena whispered, searching Kara's eyes for regret or hesitation. 

"Hi." The super leaned down and pressed a small kiss to Lena's lips before pushing herself back up to hover and smile, ridding her best friend of any doubt. 

"Can I?" Lena asked, her hands under Kara's sweater, bunching the material between her palms. 

"Yes." But Kara didn't appear to have the patience for Lena's gentle touch as she yanked the offending garment over her head and ducked right back down to Lena's neck, lowering her lips to the birthmark that always looked so darn kissable and did just that. 

They set their tasks to removing articles of clothing, revealing more and more of themselves to each other, taking turns to stare awestruck before returning to the matter at hand. Kara took her sweet time unclasping Lena's bra if only to charge to the impending reveal she'd been waiting years for. 

"Beautiful," Kara whispered, eyes fixed on Lena. "You're perfect."

She didn't let the brunette get a word in, not that Lena stood a chance when lips had already surrounded her pert nipple and a tongue darted out to move in tight circles. Kara was ravenous. She moved from breast to breast at lightning speed, giving each the full treatment until Lena was mewling and cantering her hips. It was when she felt the slickness of need touch her stomach that Kara ventured south. With each methodical kiss, Kara shuffled lower and lower, finally arriving and comfortably settling herself between creamy thighs. 

Contrary to Kara's expectations, Lena was not fighting to be in charge. She allowed Kara to play around and find what got the most promising reactions. However, it seemed to be less trial and error and more constantly hitting the nail on the head because after what must have only been half a minute, Lena was practically writhing, and Kara was all but lost in the rich, sharp tastes coating her tongue. She'd found her pace and her pattern, starting with slow, pointed licks to Lena's clit, occasionally running the stiff muscle down to drive into her sopping cunt before moving back up and taking the bundle of nerves into her mouth and lathering it with the flat of her tongue. Kara kept this up, falling in love with all the ways Lena would respond: her low-pitched moans, her bucking hips, the way her thighs would clamp around Kara’s head when she used the heel of her foot to urge the blonde closer. It was heaven, and Kara never wanted it to end. 

She was vaguely aware Lena was reaching her peak, the hand in her hair tightening, fingers coiling locks of hair in a firm grip. It spurred her on. Kara only moved faster, messily lapping up every inch of Lena's pussy until the brunette sprung up from the bed and let out a cry. Kara was greedy, though; she slowed down, gently lapping up the mess left behind, only to devour Lena all over again. From the moment Kara heard the sounds Lena unleashed when she entered her with two fingers, she was a goner. All she knew was Lena's sweaty body, her accelerated heartbeat, the clamping around her fingers and the harmonious cries of pleasure. She kept going and going. Harder. Faster. 

"Kara," Lena whimpered, her breathing heavily laboured and her heart pounding. She used her grip on Kara's hair to pry her away. "You've got to stop."

"Are you okay?" Kara reeled back to ask. She scanned Lena once over, fear evident in her eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

"No! No, of course not. You just made me cum four times in a row, darling. I think I may pass out if you keep going." Lena seemed dazed but happily so as she stared down lovingly at Kara. She used her remaining strength to guide the blonde back up and capture her lips in an appreciative kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on her best friend's tongue. 

Lena bided her time. She waited to regain a steady heartbeat before she refocused her attention on the pressing matter that was the slick mess gathering on her thigh. Kara had - clearly - already begun working herself up. Whether or not the needy grinding was intentional, Lena didn't know, but she knew she wanted to be the one to give Kara her release, not have the blonde get off on her thigh. She guided Kara back and forth till she deemed her sufficiently distracted, and only then did she turn the tables, flipping the super on her back with surprising strength. 

"My turn," Lena devilishly smirked. 

She effortlessly slid three fingers into Kara and began thrusting in and out with reckless abandon. The blonde had no chance. Her head crashed back into soft pillows, her body burst to life, and her skin birthed a litany of pebbly goosebumps. It was like nothing she'd experienced before. Unlike previous times, this felt like it was finally for her. Kara didn't have to fake the appreciative sounds coming from her mouth. She didn't have to direct Lena on what to do. She was free to lie back and take all that was given. And Lena was more than happy to provide. 

The brunette had her lips glued to Kara's neck, adamant about marking her impenetrable skin, and though she may have been failing miserably, there was no mistaking Kara's moans for anything but satisfaction. So she kept going. With her mission still in sight, Lena eased herself down on her elbow, alleviating some of the pressure from her hand and placed her thumb over Kara's clit. The position was awkward, but Lena did her best to trace figures of eight over and around Kara's sensitive bud - knowing she immensely enjoyed the action herself - and was rewarded instantly when she felt Kara's body tense up and shake. 

"Lena," Kara moaned. Her hands were wound in the bedsheets, knuckles blanched from the force of her grip. She sounded so desperate, so fragile, that Lena had to bite her tongue to stop herself from moaning.

"I know," Lena replied, rising back on her palm to gaze at Kara's sheer beauty in this delirious state. She delicately brushed stray hairs off Kara's face, staring deep into her eyes, and ever so slightly smiled. "Let go, baby." 

~~~

"You're staring," Lena sighed, turning over and using her palms to rub sleep from her eyes. She’d expected some sort of embarrassment to tint Kara's face. Instead, she was met with a cheeky smile and a raised eyebrow. 

"I know," Kara said in a sure voice, her gaze unmoving, and suddenly, Lena felt like she was on fire all over again. The vivid events of the previous evening, still very fresh in her mind, were of no help. 

"Oh." Her cheeks were burning, and there was no doubt with her pale skin Kara could see. So Lena did what she could; she hid her face in Kara's side. "If you maybe wanted to stop, I wouldn't be opposed."

She vaguely heard Kara's laugh, but she'd become one with the small between the blonde's side and her forearm that everything was muffled. That was rectified when she was swiftly slumped onto her back, and whisps of golden hair tickled her cheeks from above. 

"I don't want to stop," Kara whispered. Innocence slowly vanished from the back-and-forth gaze, replaced with dark curiosity and dangerous intent. Soon, Lena found herself incapable of not glancing at Kara's pillowy lips that seemed to be inching closer. "Roa, I never want to stop staring at you."

Tags: @homo-oddity @camciel @lovelyy-moonlight | click here to be added to my taglist

#supercorp #supercorp fanfic #kara and lena #kara x lena #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl cw #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #Kara Danvers #Lena luthor #kara danvers x lena luthor

[myhaikyuuacademia]

Mirror | Astarion x reader

Summary: You tell Astarion what you see when you look at him Warnings: toothrotting fluff, timeline is nawwwt accurate from what I know I just mashed stuff together A/N: I haven't played bg3 or even seen a playthrough but I'm absolutely obsessed with him fhdsashddjjks this was supposed to be based on a scenario I thought about but by the time I started writing I’d already forgotten like, all the dialogue so yeah…

Astarion hasn't seen himself for 200 years. The day he turned, he lost all sense of self, and even now, it was difficult to regain some of it, when he didn't even know what he looked like. It frustrated him, to a degree he would never openly admit. He was looking into an empty mirror again, a routine that he had gotten tired of long ago. When he heard you coming his way, he turned around and put on his carefully crafted mask of charm and flirtation. With open arms and flair he greeted you, "y/n! What can I do for you?". With furrowed eyebrows, you stopped in the doorway. Something was wrong, you couldn't quite put your finger on it but there was something that caught you off-guard. "Nothing, Team meeting in 15." You told him, ready to let it go and turn back around. He was Astarion, sometimes he was just weird. But for some reason, this time, you couldn't. "What's up with you?" You didn't mean to sound accusing, but it was almost as if you were pointing your finger at him. "With me?" He raised his eyebrows in fake innocence. "Nothing." At that you squinted your eyes and, unconsciously scraped your teeth across your lips. Completely focused you took some more steps towards him, into his room. "Something is." You said with certainty. He rolled his eyes playfully dramatic. "I was just looking at myself in the mirror" His voice was lighthearted, almost as if he was joking around, and his face showed no signs of the discomfort the emptiness had brought him just minutes earlier. "But you can't see yourself in the mirror." You pointed out, eyes darting to the mirror behind him and the absence of his reflection, only seeing your eyes staring back at you, when they should've been blocked by his shoulders. "That's the problem, darling."

He sighed, his voice carrying a heaviness this time around. You pushed away the fluttery feeling in your stomach that you always got when he called you by one of his many, many pet names, and walked even closer towards him. "You want to see yourself." The shift in your face and your voice was immediate, a rarely seen softness taking place. "I do." He said arrogantly, desperate to put the crumbling walls back up in place. "Not vain at all huh." Soft smile on your lips as you joked. He sounded so sure of himself when he said, "Oh Darling, you know I'm gorgeous." . Rolling your eyes playfully, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, before turning somewhat serious. "Yeah. But do you?" He just looked down at you, face hardened. You opened your mouth, but ended up closing it again. The second time around you were braver, and lifting your hand you asked softly. "May I?" Hand hovering next to his face now. Furrowing his brows he nodded and you placed your hand on his cheek, your other hand swiftly joining on the other side. He tensed for a second, before forcing himself to relax. Your eyes dropped down to where your hands were now, thumbs softly following the lines etched into his skin, perhaps from years of forced smiles. "You have lines here," you whispered, smiling to yourself. "I like them a lot." Truthfully, you could've spent hours just tracing them, but you forced yourself to go on, moving one of your thumbs to glide down his nose. "A strong, straight nose." You skipped his mouth, leaving it for later, and instead went straight to his ears, cupping the sides of his head with your hands. Tilting your head and playing with the curls framing his ears. "Elven ears, surrounded by grey and white curls." You made sure to trace his ears in their entirety, so he could feel their exact shape through your touch. "Your hair always falls just right, it's kind of annoying." You joked, exhaling through your nose amused. Your fingers were weaving through his hair now, slowly untangling small knots you found along the way. Your eyes were still following your hands. Reaching the top of his head, you tugged his hair back a bit before letting your hands travel down to his forehead, and then the small space between his brows. "You always furrow your brows." Your thumb rubbed over the crease, making him ease up. You didn't notice, but Astarion did, how your eyebrows furrowed the same way his did when your thumb moved across the skin between his eyebrows. A satisfied smile spread across your face as he unfurrowed his brows, and your fingers glid over his eyebrows next. "They're the same color as your hair, and I'd say maybe almost as thick too." Your hands came to rest on the side of his head again, slightly higher than before when you'd traced his ears. And for the first time in a while you looked him in the eyes again. "Your eyes are red. And they never reveal what it is you truly think." He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Just tell me I'm the most darling man you've ever seen and move on." But his voice faltered and it lacked the bite it normally did when he flirted with someone. Your hands slid down to cup his jaw, but your eyes were still trained on his. "You are. No one else compares. You're incomparable, Astarion. But I'm not done yet." Your eyes fell down to his lips, thumb brushing against them, and into where his fangs were. "They're so soft, I love when your lips are on my neck." It was almost as if you were mumbling it to yourself, but he heard you well enough. His hands flew up to grab your arms, holding them in place. You looked up at him. “What?“ You breathed out. “You‘re ruining all my plans, sweetheart.” He growled in a low voice, dropping his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. Your thumb was still on his lip, his fingers still digging into your skin where he was holding your arms.

For a second you both just stood there like this, savoring the moment, before he spoke up again, as he moved back. “It was easy enough. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.” It seemed to pain him, saying these words. “200 years of instincts and habit kicked in. All you had to do..” he paused for a second. “was fall for it.” Looking at him, you waited for him to go on. If you were honest, you’d suspected as much, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to say it. He took a deep breath. “And all *I* had to do… was not fall for you.” He continued, “which you have made quite impossible, darling.” A second passed. “It's as if the gods made you only to ruin me.” Dumbstruck you stared at him, and it took you a few seconds to find your voice. “Astarion…” you simply managed to whisper. “You deserve something… real. I want us to be something real.” His voice made your heart hurt, never had he spoken to you in such a soft and broken tone. “I want that too.” You removed his hands from your arms and held them in yours and in an attempt to lighten the mood you said: “I totally knew about that, by the way. The manipulation part that is. Not that- not that you’d actually fallen for me… It couldn’t stop me from falling for it -- falling for *you* though.” You sighed. “Quite annoying actually.” You scrunched your nose jokingly. “Isn’t it?” Astarion confirmed, voice still ever so soft, same as his eyes, and his hands. Everything about him really, was in this moment, so incredibly soft. You hoped to remember this forever.

#x reader #fanfic #oneshot #imagine #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate #bg3 #astarion x reader #baldurs gate imagine #astarion imagine #mhaf-writes

[monkiesimp]

Sun Wukong, Macace and MK realizing that they are in love with READER?

Uhhhh am I even doing this right? I'm beginning to doubt my skills.

Wukong:

- Honestly? He falls in love with you nearly as soon as he meets you

- He didn't realize it at first though, but it doesn't take him a long time to realize he loves you

- Since you can't really come to the Flower Fruit Mountain all by yourself cause, y'know, it's a ocean away, he comes to visit you in your home instead.

- Or you sometimes come to his temple but very rarely since most of the time he spends is at the Flower Fruit Mountain.

- You two would just hang out at your house and draw together, surprisingly Wukong does love to draw and he's quite good at it

- During one night, you were drawing while Wukong was hugging you and just relaxing while watching your pen move on the paper, since you two weren't able to hang out much you suggested he stays overnight with you. He agreed of course.

- It was all nice and peaceful as you two talked, but when he asked you a question you didn't respond.

- Then, he heard you snore and realized you fell asleep.

- He just pushed you towards him so you could rest against him, he didn't want you leaning to a wrong direction and hitting your head on something by accident.

- And when your head was on his chest and you tilted your head to the point he could see your face more clearly, his heart nearly melted at the sight in front of him. The warm smile you had on your face while you slept made him feel so much happiness and love towards you.

- Wait.

- Love?....

- Oh. That's when he actually realized he loved you and come to think of it, he does think about you often when you're away.

- When he realized that, he was kinda... Shocked. And unsure what to do.

- He never predicted he'd ever find someone to love ever again in the near future (or ever), yet, there he was. With you in his arms, and the warm feelings you gave him without even realizing.

- He wasn't really happy when he learned he was in love with you. I mean, he was, but he was mostly worried.

- He's immortal, once you die, how will he live on? It's just the same like with his old companions who he missed dearly, but he felt like it would be much much worse if he lost *you*, since he LOVED you.

- Plus if he grew too attached, some demons could use you as a hostage to get to him.

- Wukong had to distance himself from you and forget about you, and that's exactly what he did. When you woke up, you were all alone with no sign of the Monkey King.

- It took him his all not to visit you again after days and days passed, he missed your touch, your voice, he missed everything about you. But he chose not to, it was better for the both of you.

- You on the other hand were completely confused and heartbroken, you asked Mk if he's still seeing Wukong and when he said he was, you thought you did something wrong and ruined your friendship with him, that it was all your fault.

- You two wouldn't see each other for about a month, until Mk invited everyone to meet up for Christmas.

- Then, then you'd see him.

- Both of you kinda avoided each other, but you took the courage to talk to him.

- After two hours, once you saw him alone you took the opportunity and went up to him, adkinht why he avoided you for days.

- He lied and you could see right through it.

- So you two would kinda end up arguing, you telling him to spit it out and a bit irritated he was avoiding the topic while Wukong still refused to confess anything.

- It wasn't until you heard a sob from him that all your frustration suddenly died out.

- He had his back to you while hugging himself, but you could clearly see by his shaking shoulders and his sniffles... He was crying.

- You ended up hugging him which caused him to stop holding his tears back and let it out, he missed your hugs so much :(

- He ended up telling you everything, why he avoided you and why he was so afraid

- You listened to his every words and held his face in your hands, wiping away his tears as he talked.

- Well, you two do end up coming with a solution, and that's for you to become immortal if you want, Wukong will find something to make you immortal

- On the other hand, if you need time to think, he will give you time.

- And if you don't want to be immortal then uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

- No bitches.

Macaque:

- At first he didn't care about you, you were in Mk's crew and he knew you as much as he knew Tang tbh.

- Yeah, you two weren't really friends, you knew each other's names but nothing more than that.

- That is, until you were at a party (yeah, again, Mk invited everyone) and you got overwhelmed by the crowds and music, that was when you saw Macaque again.

- He just saw you with Mk and Mei while Wukong was yelling at him before the King stormed off while he was zoning out.

- Then he tried looking for Wukong to annoy him again but accidentally saw you at the exact same spot he saw you last, except that now Mk and Mei were nowhere in sight and you were alone and looked somewhat... Scared? He wasn't sure why.

- He was hesitating between annoying Wukong or coming to ask you why you're so glum, in the end he picked you.

- You were a bit stunned when he sat down in the chair beside you.

- He didn't ask much questions, just made some comments. Then he offered you to dance with him.

- You didn't know how to dance but agreed anyway, and honestly he was good at dancing, also good at showing you what to do and how to move.

- That was the night you two became friends :D

- After that night he'd visit you A LOT, it's like this guy has nothing else to do in this world of how many hours he could spend with you.

- He would flirt with you and tease you very often, honestly he didn't realize, but he caught feelings for you since that dance.

- It took him a month til he realized he loved you.

- And when he did he honestly didn't care much but he'd be extra flirty and teasing.

- He'd often push your buttons and test the waters to see how far he could go.

- He could go pretty far XD you were extremely flustered whenever he'd flirt with you.

- But yeah, you two didn't really hug each other or show any affection (Macaque kinda would only do small gestures when teasing you, such as being close to your face or wrapping his tail around you, besides that nothing much during that time. But it did quickly develop to the point you'd cuddle every night.)

- Overall, he wouldn't really have much of a reaction. He'd just accept that fact immediately and his next plan? Try his best to make you fall in love with him too.

Mk:

- AAAAA YOU TWO

- You two are BEST BUDDIES!!!!

- Along with Mei too, you three are the best duo.

- You go out every one or two weeks to hang out when you're not busy and it's mostly playing video games.

- It would be you who's in love with Mk first, and each time you flirt with him he just blushes but doesn't seem to take the hint you like him.

- He's just so... Oblivious to your flirting. He probably doesn't even realize you're flirting with him.

- He loves you by now but he just can't take a hint and it's 😭

- He would always gift you something on every event, valentine's day, Halloween, ECT, and you'd always thank him by kissing his cheek and gifting him something too.

- It makes him REALLY overjoyed when you kiss his cheek and he's happy for the rest of the day.

- Would be a slightly bit concerned over you, not that there's anything wrong but he wants to make sure you're okay and that you're not sad or anything.

- If you are, he wants to be there for you. He's a goodie boy.

- After like two years of knowing him, you start being a bit more flirtatious so he can take a hint.

- No matter how hard you try each and every time you two hang out to tease and flirt with him, he never, not even ONCE realizes anything.

- Honestly you begin flirting too much at the point of everyone around noticing.

- And Mk STILL remains clueless.

- Then he begins to get confused by you and why you always try to make him embarrassed, he rants to his problems about you with Monkey King.

- "I JUST DON'T GET IT! Why are they acting so weird?" ... "I mean it's not that I don't like it but they're more focused on making me flustered than hanging out with me."

*Monkey King shuffled through his stuff, trying to find something.*

- "Bud, they like you. They're flirting with you."

- "WHAT?"

- He doesn't believe it at first and Wukong has to sit him down to prove it to him by explaining what your words meant and your actions.

- He doesn't even get through half of it (thankfully) until Mk realizes you really do love him.

- He's in complete shock for a good few seconds but then he explodes in happiness, he's overjoyed.

- He kinda feels stupid he didn't see that in the first place... But at least he figured it out in the end!

- Honestly, he will just be a innocent boy. He would never take any action towards you if he loves you, he's innocent and nice.

- And he's a bit shy to take the first move, kinda has self esteem issues so that's why he didn't believe when Monkey King told him you liked him at first.

#lmk x reader #macaque x reader #monkie kid x reader #sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #mk x reader #monkie kid #lmk

[cutielando]

Can I have oneshots for Theodore nott and reader when he finds out that their daughter is constantly bullied at school?

PROTECTIVE

my masterlist

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Wife!Reader x Daughter

School can be tough. That was a given. Especially if you end up being a Slytherin.

Theodore knew that better than anyone. Being a Slytherin himself, also being friends with the infamous Draco Malfoy always attracted some unwanted attention.

Most of the other students knew not to mess with him, but there was still the occasional bully who didn't give a shit and picked on him anyhow.

Because of that, he never wanted his kids to experience the kind of pain he went through when he was younger. He did everything in his power to make sure your children were safe and happy at school.

Oh, how wrong he was.

He didn't notice the signs early on, but you did.

Y/D/N was more distant than usual, spending an awful lot of her time in her room when she was home for the holidays and summer break, her letters always failed to mention any of her school friends and the atmosphere there, she was sadder and lost the spark that she always used to have in her eyes.

Thinking it could be something serious, you decided to talk to your husband about it.

"Tesoro?' you asked him one night as you entered your shared bedroom and saw his under the covers, reading a new book he had purchased the previous day.

"Yes, amore?" he put the book aside as you sat next to him, giving you his full attention.

"Can we talk about something?" you were nervous, you didn't even know how to approach this subject with Theo.

"Of course we can, amore. What's bothering you?" he took your hand in his, drawing soothing circles on the back of your palm.

"I'm worried about Y/D/N" you confessed.

His eyebrows were scrunched, not understanding where you were coming from.

"Why? Did something happen?"

"I don't know. She's just...different. She hasn't been herself in a while, she's always in her room, she barely eats or talks to us, her letters seem downright robotic and she's just not the same girl we know her as anymore. I'm worried something might be happening over at the school" you explained.

You felt Theo's hand that was holding yours tense up, stopping the movements.

You looked up and saw that his jaw was clenched, he was fuming and looking at a fixated point on the wall of your bedroom.

"Do you think someone might be making fun of her? Bullying her?" his voice was low and tense, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know, but I think maybe we should talk to her. You should talk to her, you know she'll open up to you a lot faster than me" Theo nodded at that, numerous thoughts running through his mind.

Y/D/N had always been a daddy's girl ever since she was little and you were okay with that. Your younger son was a mama's boy, so it evened the scales a little bit.

You knew that Y/D/N would open up to your husband and you hoped that the problem wasn't as bad as you felt it was.

"I'll talk to her"

Come the next day at breakfast, Theo turned to your daughter as soon as you and your son left the kitchen to go to the living room.

"Y/D/N, love, I wanted to talk to you about something" he started and put his hand over hers.

"What is it?" she was avoiding eye contact with her father, which happened very rarely when they would talk.

Theo put a hand under her chin, slowly lifting up her face so she could look at him.

Her eyes had lost their sparkle, now void of any emotion and tired.

"What is bothering you, vita mia?" Theo asked, brushing his finger over her cheek.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, wanting to let the pair talk in private. You instead focused all of your attention on your son, who was more than content to have his beloved mother's attention on him.

"Nothing, dad" Y/D/N tried to shrug Theo off, but he was having none of that.

"Stella, don't push me away. Your mother and I are very worried about you. You haven't been yourself for a while and it's concerning us. What is wrong, vita mia?"

Just one look into her father's eyes and she was sobbing, letting herself fall into his arms and clinging to him.

Your heart broke when you heard your little girl sob, taking everything in you not to run in there and scoop her up in your arms to reassure her that everything would be okay.

"I hate them, dad" Y/D/N whispered once her sobs had calmed down a little.

"Who do you hate, stella?" he was trying to keep his anger in check, his blood boiling at the thought of anyone hurting his princess.

"Everyone at school. They all make fun of me for being a Slytherin and they bully me because their parents hate you and now they say they're supposed to hate me too. I'm just so tired of always being the one getting hurt over there" the young girl finally confessed, her words breaking Theo's heart.

He pulled away from the hug, instead opting to take her face in his hands.

"Y/D/N, listen to me. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is allowed to make you feel bad or think any less about yourself. You are perfect, mi stella. You hung my moon and stars from the day you were born and both your mother and I know that you're destined for great things and a bright future. Never listen to what anyone else has to say about you when you know the truth about yourself. Do you understand?" the girl nodded, giving her father a small smile.

"I love you, dad" she said before kissing his cheek, hugging his body once again.

"I love you more, vita mia"

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[orkbutch]

Okay! time to add my accompanying essays with each image from this set of work about why I assigned which types of play to each set of characters, and how Baldur's Gate III supports these in the text of the game. Because I thought about all of this way too much im not joking

First, Context:

All of these are drawings of consensual play happening between these characters after they have put aside any active conflicts between each other. Nonetheless, they utilise the dynamics and emotional conflicts of these characters. Each of these characters are in some way violent people, deeply stressed out by their circumstances, and craving pleasure and connection. Sometimes you need a little pinch and squeal before the end of the world just to get through the night, you know?

Knife play; Shadowheart (D) / Lae'zel (S)

This is definitely the best supported concept in the text of the game because we literally see this happen, though in a significantly different context. I'd say most of us thought it was hot, whether we realised it or not, and I think Shadowheart and Lae'zel probably agreed once they weren't worried about dying! I think its the perfect encapsulation of the tension between SH and LZ both early on and as it resolves. It also expresses both their personalities very succinctly and accurately. SH is absolutely an edgy, paranoid goth, and LZ would love the thrill.

For all the early game SH sees LZ as ruthless and dangerous to her, and resents Gith for the death of her peers. LZ is a threat she wants to neutralize or at least control. At the same time, SH is someone who prefers to avoid conflict and subtly occupy power/advantage in most situations she finds herself in. She has little concern for honour, pride or fairness.

Lae'zel absolutely does. She is a very straight forward and efficient person. For her, SH starts as an inconveniently racist coworker, but at the reveal of the artifact SH becomes more than that; not only has she insulted LZ's people, she's revealed herself to be untrustworthy, very willing to lie and play dirty. Not only does SH seem to hate her, but SH has rules and intentions that are entirely unknown to LZ, and that is obviously frightening.

AND SO I JUST THINK... that potent history would be very hot background for fear based play, which knife play is all about. The heart-racing threat of the point of a dangerous object held at your most tender areas - throats, armpits, mouths, bellies... and the depth of trust and submission to let that occur, to sit in the fear and really enjoy the rush of danger and helplessness, knowing you will be safe. It shows a profound growth in their regard for eachother, a true and total overcoming of old resentments and conflicts.

This is not only a position I think SH would relish - to reduce someone as deadly as LZ to being at her mercy, and to feel deeply trusted with someone's life and pleasure - but also a rare delight for LZ. To take the heart-thumping threat of a battlefield, which she absolutely thrives in, and to toy with and explore that mental space. To be truly stripped back and placed in anothers hands. For that to be an enemy who has become someone she feels so completely safe with.

Beneath this I think there is also a thread of empathy and shared idiosyncratic communication between them. They were both cruelly broken into roles that made it difficult for them to connect to others. Violence is a language both of them understand very well, in different ways, and even after they each turn on their cruel masters, violence retains meaning for them.

For SH, violence is to be enacted and more often endured as a sign of devotion. It's something that carries wisdom, the agony of lessons learned and knowledge that is uncomfortable but ultimately good for you. I don't think this is something she decides is wrong. I think what disillusioned her (beyond the betrayal of being lied to) was how Shar was revealed to have misused her pain. Shar's pain was not a gift, it had no loving measure or purpose. It was a spiteful, excessive control tactic.

I like to imagine SH learning a new way to use her affinity with pain, which I think is a very normal affinity for people to have. To learn how to use pain the way she had wanted it to be used and had come to admire. To make pain bespoke from Shar, her own gift to give and recieve on her own terms.

For LZ, violence is to be mastered for survival and superiority. Pain was only endured to prove you could endure it better than others. Violence is a hammer in a world where all beings are nails, except you and the few other hammers. All else was forsaken for this mastery. Even in sex violence and superiority are key. Vulnerability is terrifying, to make yourself a nail made to be driven by hammers who are certain of their purpose.

What else could be a greater liberating thrill, a more profound sign of trust for LZ? Willing submission to the violence of another. Those she comes to truly love become the source of her bruises. In submission to violence LZ embraces true vulnerability, untethered by tradition, opening herself to another person and trusting them to handle her with care.

In conclusion: These bitches love knife play, it gets them super hot and they feel rly connected after and share wine and cheese and maybe a massage if they have energy as aftercare. LZ will be cuddled but only if SH doesn't ask and just does it. LZ always makes sure to tell SH she admires her skill and had fun. Its very sweet

#bg3 #Lae'zel #Shadowheart #Shadowzel #laeheart #art #nasties #kinkposting #edited this because i wrote it in one sitting at like 4am and it shows

[cuubism]

A little headcannon that has been stewing in my head for a while and has absolutely no proof from the cannon

Death has wings right? What if Dream used to have wings too but when his kingdom got invaded for the first time(that story he tells in the Overture) the invaders cut his wings off. That's the part of the reason why he crafted his helm and why's he so dependent on it. They took his wings so he took their skull and a spine, an eye for an eye kind of situation. Also, that's when Dream first started employing a raven. He still has scars on his shoulder blades that follow him to any form he takes. He's ashamed of them, sees them as a sign of weakness, a reminder of his failure and his flaws and goes to great lengths to cover them up. That's about it, but I'd love to hear what you think of it^-^

(Plus: Hob gently running his hands over the scars, showing Dream his own ones and reassuring him that there's nothing broken, or wrong with him)

NO BUT THIS IS SO ANGSTY I LOVE IT. i love suffering

i feel like a permanent injury like that would have to be done to dream's core essence, such as it is, rather than his 'physical form' - i don't know if dream's physical form in the waking world or other realms can even be hurt like that. it would have to be like, something that deeply wounds the dreaming, or the concept of dreaming, or just like the deepest core of dream as an 'entity' rather than it being a physical wound. (this is leading me on a mental tangent about injuries to large groups of dreamers also injuring dream, like, extinction events and such, but that's for another time).

you managed to rope me into it, congrats XD

content warning for blood, gore, violence, Things Done That Can't Be Undone, etc.

--

There is not much, in his long life and memory, that Dream is able to forget. Thoughts do not drift into irrelevancy, into the past, the way they do for humans. He is able to hold much, all at once, in the cavern of his mind, eons of all that has happened hovering close enough to touch. It is a heavy weight more often than it is an aid.

But he forgets, sometimes, with Hob.

With Hob, the rare points of their contact stand out as singularly bright stars in the nebula of Dream's existence. All else within him fades. When Hob takes his hand Dream feels clear as a desert sky, when Hob kisses him for the first time, Dream is floating free in a great salt lake, hanging weightless.

He forgets.

It's only after, bodies pressed together with pleasing heat and sweat-tackiness, Hob tracing patterns over his back, that Dream begins to remember again.

"Dream..." Hob's fingers stutter over his shoulder blades. His voice catches with the hesitance he has often displayed with Dream since their reunion. I think you're here for friendship. Dream feels the echoes.

He kisses Hob's throat, tastes the salt tang of his skin, hides his face away there. The weight of embodiment returning. "Ask your question," he says. "I swear not to part from you now."

"Is this from...?" Hob's fingertips dance up the raised arcs of scar tissue over his back. Pain sparkles in the wake of his touch like the sharpness of a hand-drawn tattoo in the permanence of its inking. As humans imagine it. Dream is not truly physical and could not bear such a mark. Except for this.

"No," he tells Hob. Blame for many of Dream's recent ordeals can be laid at Roderick Burgess's feet, but not this one. "Much older than that."

"Oh." Hob keeps tracing the scar over Dream's right shoulder blade. The touch aches deep in Dream's being where those wounds originate, but he does not tell Hob to stop. Even like this, Hob's hands bring him back, and back, and keep him here.

Hob is waiting, leaving an opening for him to elaborate. Dream is not yet sure whether he wishes to.

"It is not a pretty story," he says.

Hob strokes through his hair. Dream keeps his head tucked under his chin and so feels each word as it's spoken. "Neither of us is a pretty story, darling. Tell it if you want to."

Dream has not spoken of this in many years. There are those in the Dreaming who have served him for millennia whom he has not told. He has taken lovers, had them see the scars during their lovemaking, and still not relayed the story.

"When I was young," he begins, "and still coming into my power, the Dreaming was invaded. My borders were not as strong, then. My realm, less populated. Ancient beings, older than I was at the time, hungered for my realm. Sought its power for their own."

"Older than dreams?" Hob asks.

"In their universe, there were no dreams," Dream tells him. "Perhaps it is what drew them to me."

"Alright. Wow." Hob sounds thoughtful. He rubs Dream's back, between his shoulder blades where it doesn't hurt. "Go on, love."

"I fought them. But the collective unconscious of this universe was young and undeveloped, as was I; I had not mastered all elements of my domain. I fought, but inelegantly, and struggled to counter dreamless beings when all my power was in the unconscious. They were wholly anchored in the present; I, in the space between seconds; we were poorly suited as combatants."

"What did you do?" Hob asks, quiet. He can sense, Dream thinks, the direction this is going, that Dream would not be so hesitant to tell the story of scars born of victory.

"I did not know," Dream admits, equally quiet, still shamed by it, his own failure, and its branching repercussions, "what to do. And the Eldest God, he who had first rent open the walls of my realm, pounced on my uncertainty, captured me, held me--"

The memory, never forgotten, always just within reach should he turn towards it, rises again -- the silk-smooth black sand on the shores of the Dreaming, crushed into his cheek; the warm waters lapping at his mouth, nose, eyes, drowning him; the impossible weight on his spine of the impossible dreamless creature holding him down, arms wrenched behind his back, the feral animal growl that had escaped him, the equally animal panic beating under his ribcage, the fragile spun dreamstuff of him held in the sharptoothed maw of cold reality, his wings--

"Dream?"

Dream comes back to himself. Comes back to Hob. The overwarm flannel sheets. The soft press of Hob's body. He's tapping something on Hob's arm, and hadn't realized he was doing it. It's the rhythm of an old song from before the time of men, the electrical beats passed along root chains from tree to tree to tree, all the way across the great forests that now exist only in scarce patches on the earth.

Dream shifts ever closer to Hob's body, slips a knee between Hob's thighs to tangle them, bare skin to bare skin, limb to limb, root to root.

"I had wings, then," he says.

--his wings, flapping frantically in the face of the thing that pinned him, feathers catching and tearing on jagged armor, held to the ground the way a creature of flight was never meant to be--

"Oh," breathes Hob. He touches the long scar over Dream's shoulder blade again and pauses there. The pain catches the story to Dream again like a hook and holds it there as he continues bleeding it dry.

"The Eldest God dug his claws into me and tore the wings from my body." Dream's voice doesn't shake but he does not manage more than a whisper. "I am not a physical creature, Hob, understand this, I cannot be so easily harmed, it was not a physical form that was damaged, rather, the Old Gods came from stone and earth and it was stone they harnessed as their claws, ancient stone to carve into my being and tear out my wings from the essence of me, root and stem, flesh and bone, air and feather and starlight."

All of this comes out in a continuous rush, and Hob kisses the side of his head, says, "Breathe."

He can still feel, if he but thinks back, the tearing of the claws. A cold so bright it felt like burning. His face ground into the sand to muffle his scream, the howling whiteout of pain overtaking all other noise, the crack of his shoulder joint as it was broken. Star stuff spilling out over the sand - Dream hadn't even known he could bleed until then. Hands that should never have touched in the first place releasing him. Collapsing, disarmed, to the ground. Every limb on fire, the ones that were left.

"Dream."

He lost himself, and found himself again some time later curled in the shallows of the Dreaming sea, seeking shelter from the cold in the warm waters. Face half submerged, breathing as much salt water as air. Blood still spooling around him like leftover paint whirling in a water glass.

"Dream."

Even in those warm waters, he was shivering. Dream doesn't think he's ever been quite warm since; that cold latched itself in him somewhere and never left.

Hob's voice, now, against his ear. He's curled himself around Dream while Dream wasn't paying attention, Dream's back to the warm protection of Hob's chest. "You don't have to finish if you don't want to."

Dream will not leave a story unfinished, not even one such as this. "When I had regained my strength enough to fight back," he continues, "I was... not in control. I knew only survival. If the Old Gods had wished me to understand their world, they succeeded. I abandoned my powers and fought with my hands and my claws and my teeth, and I tore the Eldest God's skull and spine from his body. Both of us would be maimed, I thought; if he would have my dreams then I would have for my own the backbone upon which he held his earth. I listened to him scream. I watched each rib pry up from his chest and snap, my hands slick with his blood, his with mine, and felt nothing but the raw satiation of a wolf setting upon meat. I have told you, Hob." He takes his first breath in a while and feels it rattle, hollow, around his ribcage. "It is not a pretty story."

"No." Hob's hand finds Dream's against his middle, tangles their fingers, holds him. His breath is shaky in Dream's hair, words more so. "No, darling, it's not. I'm sorry."

They rewrote the story of the Dreaming, Dream recalls saying to Destiny, after. Before he had come to know, truly, what Destiny was. Kneeling in his garden, blood still draping his raw back like a shroud, Dream had sought meaning, answers, reason. Foolish, in retrospect, to even consider asking for succor.

Destiny had said that the Dreaming had seeped too far into the Waking world. That what had happened was a necessary rebalancing.

Had Dream not been forbidden from physical violence against his siblings, he would have bitten off one of Destiny's hands with his own sharp teeth and asked if he felt more balanced then.

"Now you know what vicious creature you lie with, Hob Gadling," Dream says. The words are heavy in his throat, but he can't find it in himself to slip from Hob's hold. Now you know the jagged turn at the beginning of my story.

He wonders, sometimes, what the Dreaming might have been like had it continued on the other branch of Destiny's forking path. What he might have been like. There is so much space between a winged creature and a once-winged creature. The entire sky.

"I know." Hob bites at the back of Dream's neck, light but sharp, then kisses that same spot. The nip of pain is unexpectedly soothing. Hob too knows what it is to bite and claw and writhe and maul. “I know. I’ve known your darkness, honey. Don’t you worry.”

“They fled me,” Dream tells him. “The Old Gods. After. I did not understand why at the time.” He had stood, bloodied, shaking, over their Eldest one, bones grasped in his hands, and watched them disappear. These beings that could still have shredded the Dreaming and swallowed it, but chose to run. “Now, I imagine it is like the way men will flee from an animal that is so much smaller than them but has gone rabid. The wrongness. The danger of irreparable madness. They saw me ruined and wished not to catch it, saw the Dreaming—”

This wound has dulled over time and become but a throbbing ache at the base of his skull, a reminder of something missing. But it never disappears.

“The Dreaming, changed, from what they had wanted.”

Dream’s back has never been quite right, since. His anatomy is meant for two sets of joints, not one. But it is only a fitting marker of the permanent damage done that day.

“Changed?” says Hob, so gentle now, lips brushing his skin.

“There was once more,” Dream says. “The collective unconscious was once more… collective.”

“Wait. D’you mean…?”

“Yes. There was more interconnection between minds when I was young. There were not human minds in the sense that you would know them, not yet. But there was communication, and knowing, back then.”

Vestiges of it still linger. In the vast underground networks of the trees, the paired spins of distant atoms. The matched steps of lovers finding perfect synchronicity in a dance. But—

“That was sundered with my wings.”

The cold that had washed over Dream when that realization hit had been worse than the pain of losing the wings in the first place. How he had failed the dreamers under his care. Let things fracture and tear and separate when they were meant to be together.

Hob sighs against the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Dream.”

“I am sorry,” Dream says. “It should never have happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Hob agrees, and it’s sweet pain sliding between Dream’s ribs, for Hob to press his fingertips to the rawness of him and say, yes, failure, failure, I see it now.

But Hob kisses the point of his shoulder, the ever-tense muscles of his upper back, the hard curve of his scapula and the calcified line of another almost-joint, lost to time. His lips find the uneven scar tissue and press there, which is its own sweet pain, but sliding towards sweet, a sharp bite to kissed lips.

“It shouldn’t,” Hob whispers, and the words vibrate to the core of him. Hob does not see his failure, will not; Dream had forgotten Hob’s charity towards him, how he will see the blood on Dream’s hands and wipe it away instead of asking how it got there. Dream’s failures have stolen something from him he does not even know to miss, and still.

Now Dream does wish for Hob’s hands slipping under his ribs. Hob would find the aching wretched thing within him that had been loosed that day and hold it in his palms, wash the blood from it with careful strokes. Would that Hob could have held him then, submerged him deep in the waters of the Dreaming sea until the dark and the warmth and the strong hold of his arms had soothed the flayed and violated creature that Dream had become back to sanity. Before the gnashing rageful part of him had turned predator and fully grown its claws.

Perhaps there is succor to be found, after all. How quickly Hob Gadling has become it.

“I wish that I could have…” Hob sighs. It sounds mournful, longing. “I don’t even know. Helped you. Held you. Futile, I know.”

“I would not have you feel badly. It is long past and cannot be undone,” Dream says, as if Hob’s words don’t mean more to him than he could possibly know.

“Nothing can, sweetheart,” Hob says. His hair brushes Dream’s shoulders. It is terribly soft now, in this day and age. Dream suspects it was not always so. Human lives have rarely been soft on their bodies. He appreciates the softness of Hob’s body now, and how it cradles him. Dream himself has long been unchangeably hard-edged. “But I would still help you.”

“Sweetheart,” Dream repeats. Dream might have been sweet, once, at the end of a different story. “You would call me this, at the end of this tale?”

Hob turns him so they are facing each other once more. A tear has gathered in the corner of his eye, and slips down to wet his pillowcase as Dream watches. Tears for Dream. Warm salt water. He smiles at Dream anyway.

“You’re my sweetheart. My dear one. You think I would think anything about this other than sadness for you?”

“Dear one,” Dream echoes. “Always good to me, my Hob.”

“‘Course.” Hob squeezes his hand. Hands that too have known violence, but soft for Dream, always. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

“Only what you have already done,” Dream says. “Be a cavern where I can shelter from the cold.”

Hob kisses him, hot and lingering, and pulls the blankets up over their heads.

#thanks for sending this anon i'm extremely obsessed with it now #thinking about young dream still new to the world building the dreaming for the first time and learning his powers and still full #of softness and wonder and getting ripped to shreds for it #and now i am Screaming #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #my writing #ask #anonymous #tw gore #tw blood #fuck i did this while i'm supposed to be working so i should really get back to that now. adios

[ilovetulips]

steve harrington x fem!reader

steve harrington has a crush on you, and he’s terrible at hiding it. short n’ sweet. i’m so sorry for not being active,, expect great things soon

steve likes to think he hides his crushes well. well enough for nobody to notice. not robin, not nancy, and especially not you. he takes care into every word that leaves his mouth, concealing his happiness whenever you speak to him.

calm, cool and collected is his motto. everyday he follows this to avoid exposure. he finds having a little crush fun, harmless even. but he didn’t know that you knew. and he didn’t know that you feel the same way.

you walk into the rusting video rental store for your shift, paired with non other than steve this morning. “mornin’ y/n” calm, cool and collected. he makes a mental note to pat himself on the back.

“g’morning steve.” you smile, strolling straight past him and into the back room to clock in. the smell of your shampoo hits steve’s senses ever so slightly and he has to stop his knees from giving out right then and there.

when you return, your vest now atop of your floral blouse, he once again has to regain control of his knees.

calm, cool and collected. the red blush on the tip of his nose that he was completely unaware of was the complete opposite of this statement ‘motto’.

“bet you it’s not gonna be busy today.” the boy says, leaning forward on the counter with his arms. you do the same, only leaning backwards on the small of your back.

“whattcha betting me, harrington?” his head turns back, hair flopping widly before he turns around and copies your posture. bingo.

while he thought he was being the most subtle guy in the world, you had a list of things that made you almost positive steve had a crush on you.

1. he masked your posture. telltale sign.

“heyyyy, steve.” your shift not starting yet, you decided to sit in the small canteen for staff. your legs stretched out and your arms crossed.

“holy— y/n. scared the shit outta me.” he pulled out the chair opposite you on the small table.

“sorry! i got bored so just decided to wait in here.” you apologised. his arms crossed over his chest.

“you’re like some freaky ghost. you’re everywhere.” his legs stretched out infront of him as he spoke. the smirk on your face disguised in a laugh.

2. his feet pointed towards you whenever you sat in a group. always.

“did you just steal my fries?” your shocked face turned towards the culprit next to you.

“dunno what you’re talkin’ about. did anyone see me take her food?” eddie raised his hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“not me!” “i didn’t!” “what food?” your friends chimed in unison.

“you’re all traitors.”

steve smiled at your words. “what’re you smiling at, harrington?” his eyes widened slightly before he responded.

“nothin’.” his smile turned into that of a guilty person’s as he reached down into his lap, his hand returning with a few fries he happily shovelled into his mouth — a few missing and falling on the floor.

you looked down in shock at your falling fries, their grease coating steve’s shoes. his feet were facing you, which wouldn’t have been odd except for the fact his body was facing a different way and he wasn’t sat directly infront of you.

you made sure to remember that.

3. everytime you weren’t involved in something, he wanted to know absolutely everything about why not.

“hey guys! where’s y/n?” steve stopped in his tracks. you rarely missed group outings, which let his steve-senses tingle at the fact something was clearly wrong.

“mmm i think she’s sick. nance said something like that. i dunno.” eddie was twirling his hair, not really paying attention.

“hm? oh, yeah. said she wasn’t feelin’ good and she couldn’t make it.” nancy chimed in, sipping her drip and sinking into the sofa next to her boyfriend.

steve’s shoulders tensed. “what kinda sick? like throwing up or just a cold?” he sat down, his leg bouncing.

the girl huffs out a laugh at the state of his panic, “she’s fine, steve. just a bit sniffly. calm down.”

calm cool and collected. totally the opposite of what he was right now. shit. was he being obvious?

and of course, nancy phones you to give you a debrief of the night - including steve’s concerns and constant questions throughout the night.

—

“whatcha thinkin’ about?” slow day was an overstatement. you had served one customer in the 2 hours you had been there.

“hm? oh, nothin’.” you replied, words rolling off your tongue yet the blush staining your cheeks said otherwise.

you wouldn’t have paid such close attention to his behaviour if you didn’t like him. of course you were flattered by the revelation, who wouldn’t be?

“okay. who are you thinkin’ about then.”

you whip your head around to meet his eyes. “huh?”

“you’re blushing, y/n.” your eyes widened.

“no.” he laughs at your response.

“yes.” there is that pink blush on the tip of his nose. he leans down to your level.

“steve?” you look up at him. the pink turns to a shade of maroon.

“hm?”

“i know you like me.” the blush spreads across his whole face, and you wouldn’t be exaggerating if you said it spread to his hands too.

“i- no- what—“ he’s a stuttering mess. it’s cute.

“steve.”

“hm?” he gulps.

“i like you too.” you smile sweetly, and he thinks his heart cries out with joy.

#♡ steve ! #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve x reader #steve harrington headcannon #steve stranger things #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fluff #stranger things one shot #stranger things pov #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things scenario

[asteroidzzzn]

I was replaying Ellie’s Seattle day 3 and got to the point where her and Jesse go to the one building with all the comic posters and where they decide their was a convention there and I got an idea. i was wondering if you could write mordern!ellie taking reader to a comic convention and nerding out. Sorry that was a really bad explanation😭

a/n: dwdw i understood i get u, this is so cute and ur so right bc she would totally do that

comic-con with ellie

pairing: modern!ellie x reader

word count: 0.8k

warnings: just cursing and fluff (✿◠‿◠)

you trudged through the hot crowd, shading your eyes with your hand from the radiant august sun.

you were at a convention with your girlfriend, who had begged you to go with her during summer. for the most part, you had no idea what she was getting excited over, but you happily took pictures of her with writers and cosplayers regardless.

when ellie told you she was going to the bathroom, you divided to wander around the massive space. there were a few popular comics you recognized, such as spiderman, batman, and your favorite, the flash.

you saw bright flashing signs of DC and marvel, fondly remembering the time when ellie gave you a very lengthy lecture on the difference between the two after you had said, "but, they seem the same to me...?"

a booth caught your eye where people were dressed up in intricate armor and handing each other cards. you approached them and studied the cards laid out. a woman sitting on a chair noticed you and smiled.

"hi! looking to trade or buy any cards or figurines?"

she gestured to the array of options on the table.

"um, which ones are from uh...savage starlight? it's my girlfriend's favorite so i wanna get something for her, but i don't know much about it."

"oh, that's no problem," she began shuffling around the cards and placed a figurine in front of you, "these are all savage starlight. you're lucky you came now, it's been very popular."

you pointed to a card of a woman named dr. daniela star. her hair sort of looked like ellie's, and she looked like a badass.

"how much for this one?"

she winced, "about $145, she's extremely rare, and that's the last copy we have."

"oh shit," you chuckled, "it's ok, i'll get it."

you bought the card and stepped away to look at more booths. your phone buzzed with a notification.

els 💗💫: omg babe come here rn

els 💗💫 shared their location with you

els 💗💫: im upstairs behind the x-men wall

els 💗💫: they have one of the cards here that i've been looking for since i was 14!!!!!

els 💗💫: i need to get it

you found your way upstairs eventually and found ellie, grinning widely while holding a trading card. it looked similar to the one you had just bought, with the same trimming and design on the back.

"look what i found! it's the robot one i was telling you about!"

"oh wow, that's great! doesn't that mean you only need a few more to finish the collection?"

she groaned and threw her head back. "yeah, i just need two more. one is way too expensive though, and the other is impossible to find. it's dr. star, the scientist that created the robot," she held up the robot with a disappointed look, then slipped it into her pocket.

you intertwined her hand with yours. "let's keep looking around, i'm sure you can find something else cool."

she nodded as she led you downstairs to continue strolling around the convention.

"you're so wrong! i would be mj and you're peter!" you teased ellie while you giggled as she rolled her eyes.

"fine, but i'm gwen and you're miles," she remarked, as the two of you stepped outside into the chilling air. you continued to bicker playfully as you walked to the car. as you stepped in ellie sighed.

"thanks for coming to this with me. you have fun?"

you nodded, "yeah, actually, i got a funny picture with someone that was dressed up as ronald mcdonald. i sent it to jesse and dina and they said "oh my god, you found your twin."

ellie let out a loud laugh, and you continued to talk about the experience with her, sharing cool things you saw as you wandered around alone.

"ugh about that, i'm still so upset i couldn't find the card i wanted," she said, voice laced with sadness as she shifted the car into gear to drive home. "it's all good, next year they might have it, or i could find it on ebay if i sell an organ or two," she shrugged at you and placed her hands on the wheel.

you placed your hand on top of hers to stop her.

"actually, while you were in the bathroom i found something," you reached into your purse and pulled out the dr. daniela star card, still encased in the plastic protection.

"oh my fucking god," she breathed, her jaw slack.

you bit your lip as she simply stared. a few seconds passed.

"...ellie do you like it?"

"i love you," she said, taking the card into her hands and inspecting it.

you snickered. "me or her?"

her gaze shot up to yours. "you, you. of course," she set the card down to grab your face with both hands and kiss you so hard you nearly tipped over onto the window. she pulled away for only to fall back onto you again, hugging you tightly mumbling "thankyouthankyouthankyou" into your shirt.

she sat back up and took the robot card from her pocket and compared the two of them. she looked like she was in awe. it was adorable.

"you're such a dork," you said.

"yeah, you love it though."

a/n: i hope i did ur idea justice anon 🙏

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @elliesinterlude @fireflyelllie @trulygnomed @deluluwh-0-re @toesorhoes @elliewilliamsmissingfingerss @emluvselandabs @ariianelle @jokerpokimoon @lonelyfooryouonly

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou game #the last of us #tlou 2 #wlw #ellie williams fluff #tlou part ii #dina woodward #jesse tlou #lesbian #the last of us fanfiction #modern!ellie williams

[fallingdownhell]

hello! i was wondering if i could request a poly cyno x reader x tighnari where the reader is going through a tough time and is kinda burnt out. maybe where she tries to brush it off, but the boys catch on pretty quickly and then they comfort her? anyways, i hope you have a good day/night!!

-🌹 anon

Hey! Of course you can!<3

I don't have anything against poly ships, I do in fact have a few of them myself. Have I ever written for one? No, but I sure want to. Hope it turned out okay.

Thank you so much for your request, 🌹 anon

Content: poly relationship; written with fem!reader in mind, but can also be read as gn!reader; mentions of mental illness; self doubt; burnout; much comfort from the bois

Word count: 1,8k

Hope you enjoy reading<3

You were tired.

Your days studying in the Academya left you more drained than anything else lately. Although you were a good student, diligent and often praised by your professors, that didn't change anything about the heavy workload you put on your shoulders.

The days seemed to last for an eternity, while the nights were over far too quickly. You never felt like you got any quality rest.

While one of your boyfriends, Cyno, kept a close eye on you and made sure you took care of yourself, the other suffered extremely from the lack of contact with you.

You haven't really seen Tighnari for a few weeks, except for his one day visits to Sumeru city when he was in need for new materials. He would make it a point to visit you, but you were still so focused on your research, that you didn't spend much time with him.

Same with Cyno. While he was often times with you in the city, he rarely got to see you anymore either. Well, that's wrong. He did see you, but was the time spend with him? No, it wasn't.

You kept telling youself and your boyfriends that this was only a temporary issue, that you would soon be done studying in the Academya. Then you could finally give them all the attention that you have deprived them off until now.

And yet, two months after your last conversation with your boyfriends about this issue, there were still no signs of it getting better anytime soon.

You were working yourself to the bone, day in and day out. So it was only a matter of time until the stress would get to your head, poisining your thoughts.

You began to think about all the times you neglected Cyno and Tighnari, how you didn't even keep in touch with Tighnari back at Gandharva Ville via letters. He probably only heard about you through Cyno, meaning he had to rely on his words.

You couldn't help but feel bad, ashamed and guilty.

Your head then began constructing this idea... this terrible idea of your boyfriends. About how they started to resent you. For neglecting them, for focusing on your studies instead of them.

Thoughts began to bloom within you. Hlw they probably hated the idea of seeing you again, hating you in general.

Your hand that had been writing on a paper until a few moments ago, began to shake as silent tears began rolling down your cheeks.

You wanted to believe that it wasn't true. That this was just the stress getting to you...

But how could you, when it all made perfect sense? Of course they would feel this way.

Now that you thought about it.. you haven't seen Cyno at all the last two days. He usually came by every day, even just to make sure that you were taking care of yourself.

But... nothing. He didn't show up at all.

And as you realised that, the thoughts only became louder and more convincing.

'They already started separating from you, silently..'

'They feel they're not important to you...'

'You are no good partner to them..'

Those thoughts began to flood your mind as you set down your pen, tears continuing to fall down your face. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, as these negative thoughts kept pestering your mind.

...

The next day, Cyno saw you walking within the walls of the Academya and immediatly noticed that something was wrong with you.

He saw your red, swollen eyes and knew that you must have cried yesterday. The reason for it he might nit know, but that didn't matter. It was obvious that you needed him right now.

So, he talked to the Matras, gave them their orders and then set out to find you again.

He found you in a quiet corner in the house of Daena, reading some kind of book related to your studies, while you occaisonally sniffled and rubbed your swollen eyes.

Cyno approached you quietly, sitting down on a chair across from yours, his eyes fixed on your exhausted form.

You jumped a little, not expecting any form of company to disturb you. Once you recognise Cyno, you relqx a bit, but quickly tense up again, remembering what had happened the day before.

Cyno, of course, noticed that shift in behaviour from you.

"What's going on?", he immediatly asked, not wasting time with chit chat.

"What... do you mean, exactly?", you answered, trying to deflect, making it seem like everything was fine. Which, you failed. Because even if Cyno wasn't the best with feelings, he was perceptive.

"You cried. I can see that with only one look at you. So.. what happened?"

At his words, you wished to just slap yourself as you realised that you forgot to put on makeup, so that you could hide the obvious bags under your eyes. But that would have been only one part of the problem, anyway.

"Oh.. nothing much. Just... stressed."

"Stress? That's all?"

You nodded, not being able to look your boyfriend in the eyes. You knew that if you did, he would immediatly figure you out. Little did you know that by avoiding his gaze, he worried even more.

"You're hiding something from me.", he concluded. You sighed, but didn't give him anything further to work with for a few minutes. Then..

"It's just.. the stress is getting to me. To my head, exactly. It's been... a lot.", you told him in a low voice, not wanting to say anything more.

To your surprise, the next thing Cyno did was to just silently, without another word, stand up from the table and walk away. You didn't see were he was heading, but that didn't matter to you.

All your head needed, was right there. Your boyfriend walking away from you when you would have needed him the most.

You could feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, but this time, you forced them to stay in, not wanting to cry in broad daylight in front of your fellow students. But going home wasn't an option in your head either, so you tried to swallow the hurt and continued your studies.

Little did you know though, that Cyno was walking straight to the Acting Grand Sages office, not bothering in the slightest that he had just interrupted a seemingly important conversation with some other sages.

Alhaitham looked at him with his usual stoic expression, while Cyno explained the situation to him, requesting for a two weeks vacation for you amd himself.

After a few seconds of considering, Alhaitham signed it off, handing the documents to Cyno, whishing him the best of luck. Having achieved what he came for, Cyno headed back down to were you were seated before, glad that you were still in the same spot.

He approached again, but this time, you noticed him. And he wore an even more determined expression than he usually did.

"Cyno? What are you-!"

You got interrupted as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of your seat and after him, waking his way towarsa the exit of the house of Daena.

"Hey, stop. Where are we going?", you asked, weakly struggling against his grip.

"Visiting Tighnari.", he said.

"Wha.. but I can't. I still have to-"

"You don't have to do anything. I requested some time off for the both of us, and Alhaitham approved of it. We are going on a vacation, because Archons know that you need that, (name)."

After he said that, you were in no place to argue against him anymore. Your resistance against him grew less and less, until you completely stopped. He, in return, loosened his grip on your wrist a bit, but still held you tightly to him.

He made a stop at his and your house, to gather some stuff, mostly clothing, before you made your way to Gandharva Ville together.

The walk was mostly quiet as you were trying to figure out what to make of it. You were sure that they must hate you at this point, yet Cyno's actions clearly indicated the total opposite.

As you arrived at the base of the forest watchers, Cyno spotted Tighnari in front of his hut, talking to some other forest rangers.

The fox immediatly picked up on the scent of his two lovers as soons as you two entered the village. But he also instantly knew that something was up. He could sense that you were upset about something amd Cyno was worried about you.

He made quick work of the matter with the forest ranger, and as they began to depart, Tighnari already spotted you and Cyno walking towards him, so he waited there for you to.

"Hey..", he said in a soft tone, immediatly pulling you in for a long and loving hug as soon as you were close enough.

"...", you didn't say anything as you hugged him back tightly, which confirmed his assumption that something was definitely not right.

He looked over at Cyno, who motioned for them to go inside, which Tighnari gently coaxed you to do so with them.

"Do you want to talk about it?", Tighnari asked as you all were inside. But you didn't feel ready for that just yet, so you just shook your head slightly, gaze fixed on the ground.

"All right then..", you heard from the fox and the next moment, you were suddenly in the air, as your lover had picked you up and walked over to the bed.

The next moment, you were placed on the soft mattress, ine of your boyfriends on each of your side. You were completely surrounded by them, and suddenly, you felt safe.

Like a heavy weight has finally been lifted from your shoulder, and you could feel a single tear run down your face again.

Tighnari, who you were facing, brought one hand up to your face, softly carressing your cheek. He slowly leaned in, kissing you on the forehead.

In the meantime, Cyno, who was laying behind you, slid on hand down your arm, intertwining his fingers with yours once he reached your hand, as he slowly started to place light kisses on your neck.

In this moment, you felt so loved and cared for by your two boyfriends, you had no idea how you could have ever doubted their love for you.

You couldn't controll your tears anymore and you just let everything out that you had been holding back.

For the next few hours, you three just laid there, cuddling with each other, while Cyno and Tighnari whispered sweet and loving words to you.

You may not be able to talk about your troubles quite yet, but you knew that with them by your side, everything would turn out okay in the end.

Because you had each other. And now there was no doubt in your mind anymore..

... they did love you with all their heart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact comfort #genshin comfort #genshin impact ship #tighnari x cyno #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #genshin impact tighnari #genshin impact cyno

[wackulart]

Can we have a part 2 of the one where the reader goes into the tide pools and meets Belos and it picks up in the future (present) and Belos recognizes the reader. Have a great day, and sleep well tonight!

BET

(im glad people enjoyed it enough for a part 2!)

Part 1

Philip Wittebane/Emperor Belos x Reader Part 2

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

He couldn't believe it.

It was you.

The Emperor had stepped back from the hall and rushed towards his office the second you had looked over to him. He didn't care if anyone had noticed his strange behaviour. No one would have been foolish enough to call him out on it regardless.

There was no doubt that you were the one who he had seen all those years ago. He heard you speaking to the scouts and god forbid that he would ever forget those eyes.

The eyes that had nearly made him forget that you were a witch and he, a witch hunter.

Once he had reached his office, he immediately moved to the books he had stored and flipped through any that would have to do with time passing, preserving bodies and maybe even cloning.

After a moment, he paused on a page and was sure he had found the correct one.

Time pools.

Though some memories had become fuzzy overtime, the day he met you was one that had remained clear.

He remembered how you explained to him that you would never be able to see him again, that certainly tracked with time pools being unable to reappear in the same place twice. Even finding one was incredibly rare to the point most didn't believe in their existence.

Yet there you were, a demon he had felt a fondness for that he had never expected to run into ever again, standing in his castle.

You had no clue who he was, how could he ever explain that?

Then again, he didn't have to.

He pulled himself from his thoughts as he realized that he still had the intention to grow closer to you. How could he be thinking that way, even after all these years?

Belos groaned, dragging his gauntlet down his mask in frustration. The feeling of his brother's eyes on the back of his neck certainly did not help.

He was not his brother, he could handle this. Despite the way his heart picked up as his mind wandered back to you.

Blissfully unaware, you had begun to wrap up your job. The packages had been delivered and now you were striking up conversation with one of the scouts as you both waited for a captain to come and sign for everything.

Suddenly the scout grew quiet and stiffened immediately, their hand moving to a salute. You hadn't processed what they were doing, almost worried that you had said something wrong until you clued in on the other scouts doing the same and facing something behind you.

You turned and nearly bumped into the person behind you. Before you could apologize, your face went white and the words died on your lips at the sight of the Emperor. His form towered over you easily, being in front of him would make even the strongest demons feel weak.

Instinctually, you fell into a bow in front of him. "M-my Emperor."

His eyes had looked upon you so gently, he had to fight down the sigh of relief from just being able to speak to you again. Even if it was under drastically different circumstances.

With just the raise of his hand, the scouts had dropped their salutes and you stood up straight. He held out his hand to you and as you looked at it, unsure of what he was asking for you slowly put your hand into his.

Then you heard him laugh and he placed his other hand on top of yours. "No, my dear. I need you to give me the papers to sign."

Your face burned red as you pulled your hand back and turned to find your clipboard. Your mind was racing almost as fast as your heart was after your little mistake. With shaky hands, you handed the clipboard to the Emperor. He took it, his gauntlet touching the tips of your fingers for only a moment.

He seemed to move very slowly, but in a methodical way. Something about everything the Emperor did seemed regal and purposeful, to even be this close to him to notice was like seeing the Titan itself walk again.

You were definitely going to brag to the other vendors about this later.

Your eyes followed the pen as it glided across the page frictionlessly. He handed the clipboard back to you and of course his handwriting was perfect too.

You had half a mind to believe that he was the Titan.

"Thank you, your highness." Once again, you bowed.

Emperor Belos chuckled under his breath and a single golden digit lifted your chin before his hands clasped together. "Please, it was my pleasure."

You couldn't stop the embarrassing squeak at the slight contact, not expecting that sort of behaviour from the Emperor, but how could you? In all fairness, this was the first time you had ever interacted with him personally, maybe he was always like this.

At least that was what you were convincing yourself until he walked away and you turned back to notice all of the scouts whispering to one another. You were embarrassed, confused but also a bit interested. There was no reasonable way to explain that interaction, but maybe it was a one-off, a fluke.

That's what you said in your head as you made your way back to your workshop and continued on with your life.

Barely a week later, you had another order addressed to the castle asking for you specifically.

Perhaps he couldn't be with you, but maybe he could still have fun with you.

It wasn't like he would get attached.

Right?

#LETS GO PART 2 #AAA THIS ONE IS FUN #I had a bit of trouble figuring it out at first but im happy with it #philip wittebane x reader #belos x reader #emperor belos x reader #the owl house x reader #toh x reader #emperor belos #toh emperor belos #the owl house emperor belos #belos #toh belos #the owl house belos #philip wittebane #toh philip #toh philip wittebane #the owl house philip #the owl house philip wittebane #the owl house #the owl house writing #writing #my writing #x reader

[luvyurself]

the long lasting memories

F catnap that fool scares me my boy theo deserved better

jean is a placeholder name before he turned into dogday

c/w: she/her pronouns, pure platonic for theo, slight romance towards jean (though can be seen as platonic), set in the beginning of the bigger bodies initiative, hinting at jean signing up to be apart of the initiative.

(my theory is that dogday and bubba-bubafant are the only adult ones who agreed to be in the bigger bodies initiative, while the rest are the orphans.)

_________

everyday was the same routine: wake up at six in the morning, freshen up, put on her work uniform, stick a breakfast sandwich in her mouth, kiss her mom goodbye, make her way to work, and get into the parking lot of playtime co. at around 6:45.

working a 7-5 job during everyday of the week gets old for a lot of people, but for her, somethings always happening in that job. it wasn’t anything extravagant, she worked at the playcare as an assistant, watching over the kids and sometimes playing with them.

the kids were a joy, some more energetic then others but it wasn’t nothing she couldn’t handle. having a lot of younger relatives made her pretty skilled in childcare, knowing how to help and soothe if needed.

she switched sometimes to help at the nursery, but she mainly monitored the main area.

some kids had taken a liking to her, always pulling her to play or draw. for some reason, she was told before she started to not interact with the kids as much, but she can’t just ignore those little puppy dog eyes they give her.

one kid was somewhat close to her, always sitting by her legs and being in his own world drawing. he never really interacted with the other kids, maybe he was just shy.

she came to learn his name was theodore, or theo, from other employees. she didn’t know why he always sat by her, but she never minded it. despite his quiet personality, he was always polite with her, showing his drawings to her when he was done.

one time, nearing the end of her shift and getting ready to go home, she felt a tug on her pants and looked down to see theo looking at her, a small smile on his face as he held up a paper to her.

she grabbed it carefully, looking at it and gasping softly. it was a little drawing of her and him, holding hands in a little field of flowers, with a happy sun and clouds.

he had his little name with purple crayon on pointing to himself, and with pink crayon pointing to her, was her name (spelled wrong but she didn’t care at all) in messy handwriting.

she bends down to his level, ruffling his hair and smiling, “I love it theo,” she spoke softly, watching as the boy twiddled with his fingers and nod.

“….you can have it….I made it for you…” he whispered, his eyes hiding behind his shaggy brown hair.

she looked back down at the drawing before humming, “a masterpiece like this should be in a museum,” she grabs her work folder, slipping it in carefully to not wrinkle it, and closing it softly and patting the cover, “I’ll make sure it gets to Italy as soon as possible,”

she saw him giggle, a seemingly rare sight for her. he was always so concealed about his emotions.

out of nowhere, he threw his little arms around her body and hugged her. he spoke softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow miss,”

she was slightly thrown off by the hug, subconsciously stiffening up out of habit. it wasn’t like she hated it, a bunch of kids hugged her all the time, but theo never seemed like the kid to do something like this.

still, she loosened her body and gave him a hug back, patting his back, “I’ll see you tomorrow too, theo,”

that was the last day she saw him at the playcare.

she asked around the employees, some shrugging their shoulders and some patting her back saying he was probably in class somewhere.

she finally got confirmation by one of her higher up coworkers that he had been adopted. she rose a brow at that, as theo never said anything about being adopted, but then again he was a pretty secluded kid, so he probably didn’t want to tell her.

she was pretty sad about not giving him a proper goodbye, but hopefully she can figure out a way to send him a letter with her own message.

she stood watching the kids play, a small frown on her lips as she subconsciously tapped her fingers on her legs. it felt weird not having the seven year old by her legs drawing whatever he did. she remembered him always drawing the same purple cat from the company’s new line of toys.

she was lost in thought when she felt a tap on her shoulder, flinching harshly and turning to look at whoever tapped her.

one of her coworkers, jean, looked at her with an awkward smile on his face. “hey, you alright?” he spoke, brushing a bit of rusty blonde hair out of his face.

jean was a good friend of hers, he was there longer then her and was the one who showed her around when she was first hired. he was polite, caring, and overall not that bad looking.

she didn’t know why she added that last part.

he was always someone to look up too in the playcare, acting as some sort of role model for the kids. he also loved playing with them, always had the bright look with a smile on his face.

he was also a real good listener, giving out great advice and just helping someone put a smile back on their face.

which brings her back to now. she looked down for a moment, before sighing, “just….thinking,” she spoke, fiddling with her shirt.

he was silent for a moment, before humming, “about theo hm?” he looked back to where the kids were, giving and airy sigh, “I thought I noticed there wasn’t a kid by you,”

he looked back at her, reaching a steady hand out and patted her shoulder. “It’s always hard seeing these little guys go, but just know he’s in a loving home now.”

she looked at the hand on her shoulder, blinking a few times, “it’s….I wish I could had gave him a proper goodbye,” she spoke, stuffing her hands in her pockets, “maybe slip him a candy or two in his hand before sending him off.”

a bark of a laugh came from jean, making her head to to him. “your the one that gives these kids candy?” he spoke in a whisper, a smile on his face, “the higher ups been wondering where the heck they get that stuff from!”

she felt a curve in her lips as she shrugged, “maybe I am…..maybe not….” she playfully waved the air, “maybe I just wanted these kids to get a taste of actual good candy instead of the ones from here.”

jean rose a playful brow, “so your a candy smuggler now? what happened to that rule follower I used to know?” he dramatically placed a hand on his heart, “she has succumbed to the darkness in her heart.”

she finally felt that smile grace her lips, laughing softly as she nudges him softly, “no snitching, I got a ton of kids who will tackle you if I tell them your the reason I can’t give them candy anymore.”

he smiled at her laugh, making the zipper motion on his mouth and throwing away the invisible key.

she relaxed her muscles a bit, popping her knuckles and stretching her arms, “so….any news about that promotion you talked about?”

silence, she saw him pointing at his mouth, making noises like he was muffled. she playfully rolled her eyes, pretending she had a key and air zipped-opened his mouth.

jean let out a fake gasp of air, putting on a little show before he began speaking as if nothing happened, “yeah, I just got the confirmation today,” he spoke, a happy grin on his face, “I got the spot!”

she smiled back, giving him a small clap, “yay! so happy for you!” she tilts her head to one side, “did they tell you what for?”

he gave her a play full finger wag, “ahhh, that’s for me to know only, I can’t be giving out my classified information.” he spoke, straightening his hair by running it through his fingers. “only me and sean can talk about it amongst ourselves.”

she blinked, looking at the schoolhouse and back at him, “the tutor? he got the promotion too?” she seen sean a few times, very intelligent older man, never forgot a face or name.

he nodded, “yeah! we’re both actually going to stay overtime with the bosses to talk about it.”

she gave a short laugh, “you gotta stay overtime while the rest of us go home, that’s why I never try for anything,” she motions to the playcare, “I got everything I need right here,”

jean gave a sarcastic laugh, “hah hah, let’s all laugh at the one who’s pay is about to increase.” he points at himself, making her giggle, “okay, your not wrong about that.”

she felt her watch beep, signaling that it was near five, which gave her time to pack up and leave. “well, I guess I gotta go.” she straightened up her body, yawning softly, “my mom wants us to get dinner at a restaurant, can’t keep her waiting.”

the man infront of her nodded, before he looked down at his own watch, “I guess I better go meet sean by the counselors office.”

he thinks for a moment, before looking at her, “you know….this might be the last working shift we have together.”

she rolled her eyes playfully, “your acting like we’ll never see each other again.”

sean sighed dramatically, “let me have my moment,” he spoke curtly then cupped his hands together, clearing his throat, “oh woe is me,” he said her name, “if only she could grace me with a goodbye hug before I begin this dangerous journey.”

she looked at him with an empty look, before sighing with a smile and going to wrap her arms around him. he was barley taller then her, her head reaching his shoulder.

“here you big baby,” she playfully spoke, leaning in slightly and softly inhaling his scent. laundry detergent with a hint of vanilla. she heard him laugh airly, wrapping his arms around her.

he whispered softly in her ear, “I’ll see you when I can, angel,” she couldn’t pick up the tone in his voice, it was mixed with softness and another emotion she couldn’t detect.

she picked up on the nickname, feeling her ears grow warm, “a-angel?” she stumbled on the word, “that’s a new one….” she mumbled, before she pulled away, “but….I’ll see you when I can too, jean.”

after they parted ways, jean sighed softly, stuffing his hands in his pockets before feeling something in them. he pulled out a small candy she had managed to slip in. he laughed at that, before making his way to the counselors office.

she made her way home, greeting her mom and spoke on her day before excusing herself to get ready to go out. while walking past her dresser in her room, she stopped and looked at the drawing theo had gave her, caressing the frame.

she wondered if he was doing good, how he was adjusting, and if he got a big yard with a cat he could play with.

when she was ready to go, she felt her little phone buzz a message too her, opening it up from jean.

‘going into the job! wish me luck :)’

that was the last message she ever received from him.

im not really proud of this one AUGHHHH I just had a thought and ran with it

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime #slight romance #dogday poppy playtime #catnap #theodore poppy playtime #platonic #x female reader #x reader

[daisyblinder]

Falling apart (Part 1) / Thomas Shelby x reader

🦚Warnings: Cursing 

🦚Summary: Thomas Shelby is not good with emotions. So when his wife is going through a rough time, he makes an insensitive comment.

As a result she hides her breaking heart from him and turns to the only member of the family she knows won't shame her for being vulnerable: Arthur

And so begins Thomas's story of jealousy, marriage councelling and learning intimacy. 

When she had married Tommy, she had known what she signed up for. She knew her husband did not wear his heart on his sleeve, hell she knew that sometimes he did not wear his heart at all.

 But very rarely she had had to face his coldness. When she was in distress, he had been there for her. When she was happy, he often smiled with her. But today was not a day when Thomas Shelby was offering her those treats.

 Been raised by a mother who believed girls to be a stain on the family’s purity was difficult. Having been the daughter who faced her mother’s wrath on most things, Y/n was used to believing when something was wrong, it was her fault.

 She was used to believing that when she looked in the mirror, she was a lesser being, cruel and childish girl who would never find her place in the world. For a long time those feelings were kept in a locked chest, and she was able to smile and feel the world accepting her.

 But now on the 10 anniversary of her father’s death, all the security and love that had died with him, felt like it was dying all over again.

 With glossy eyes, she wrung up a bouquet of flowers. When she had married Tommy, he had let her keep working at the flower shop her friend Ida owned. had known her for over half of her life. She had become her dear companion and her family.

 But now Y/n worked alone. Two years ago Ida had slept away at the age of 85. And the Shelby family had agreed that it was for the good of Y/n to buy the flower shop for them and let her keep running it.

 Sniffling she finishes the small flower girl bouquet and sighs. This day was supposed to be easier by now. But no. There was nothing easy remembering all of her past. The things she had hidden to keep her held up.

 The missing hole her father left, the spears and knifes her mother threw towards her, the times Ida’s brother had tried to corner her into the backroom of the store and most of all the loneliness she had faced her whole life.

 Feeling of being the outsider. The one girl who people said would end up an old maid, the girl who others pointed and laughed when she thought that she had friends.

”I heard the store was to closed today”, a low voice interrupted her misery. With a jump Y/n turns and tries her best to muster up a smile.

 ”Tuesdays are usually slow days, I’m finishing up the wedding flowers today”, she explains almost crying with relief when she feels her husbands hands arrive on her shoulders. Only his touch comforting her to no end.

 Sighing Tommy rolls up a chair to sit next to her and puts a cigarette between his lips. ”And don’t you think half of the town remembers what day it is today now that you have closed the shop, eh?”, he points out focusing on lighting his cigarette.

 Furrowing her brows Y/n turns to look at Tommy with bewildered eyes. ”And what does that have to do with anything?”, she asks softly, guilt already rising in her heart.

 ”Family is my strength, but if the people out there see how fragile your head is, they will know where to hit”, he explains leaning back and looking at the ceiling. He knew he was not playing the fairest game but he did not want Y/n to end up suffering for his business.

 And for that to not happen, she needed to realize what to do to protect it.

 ”Tommy, my head is just in the mud today”, she sighs and lays her hand on his thigh. Needing to touch him so that she feels he is not disgusted by her. Needing the reassurance he would not leave.

 ”Mud that’s more than old enough to be clay”, he comments coolly looking at his wife in the eyes now. ”And clay doesn’t spread around, bag it, close the bags and shove them in the closet”, he instructs.

 His words cut deeper than he ever expected them to. But he knew that this was something he had to do. If his wife was a wreck for everyone to see, it made her soft, and if he let it continue, it made him and the business soft.

 ”Alright”, Y/n whispers pulling her hand away. Resting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands she closes her eyes to hide the tears rising in them. She had needed Tommy today, she had needed him on her side.

 ”So?”, Tommy says softer this time and leans towards her to rest his chin on her shoulder.

”So?”

 ”Will the store be open tomorrow?”, he asks voice still soft but his words still hurt.

 ”8 o’clock sharp”, she answers her own voice stronger than she expected. Tommy gently turns her chin to face him and gives her a soft kiss. ”I’ll be home early tonight”, he promises before rising and taking his leave.

 When she hears the door close, her tears fall. Heavy ugly sobs and hiccups rising from her chest as the self-hatred and loneliness all start coming out. Trying to calm herself, as she feels her whole body start shaking she tries to think of a place to go to.

 Soon her mind is set and she is racing out of her store to the Garrison.

 ***

Arriving to the pub, she goes to straight to the bar. ”Is Arthur here?”, she asks Harry, trying to hold herself together the best she can.

 ”In the back”, Harry answers letting her make herself over to her brother-in-law. When she arrives, there is Arthur a glass of whisky in his hand and for once a grin on his face.

 When Y/n sees him, she can’t hold back her emotions anymore. Her sobbing starts annew as Arthur stares at her with wide scared eyes.

What the fuck to do?

 ”I-I”, Y/n tries to speak but her shaking becomes too strong and her breathing turns erratic. Quickly Arthur is up from his seat.

 Arthur gently puts his arm around his sister-in-law and leads her to the seat he just occupied. ”Easy, love. There ain’t nuthing coming to get ya”, he soothes and kneels next to her, his left arm still around her frame, bringing his right hand to hold one of her tightly.

 He knew what it felt like to be drowning in misery. He had had the shakes more than once and knew how the world could do someone some mean tricks.

”Do you want to call Tommy?”, he asks softly after Y/n’s breathing steadies a little.

 ”No!”, she says quickly her head snapping towards Arthur in lightning speed, her breathing picking up again.

 Arthur tightens his hold on her and starts speaking fast. ”Alright, no Tommy. Ain’t Tommy got anything to do here. No Tommy”, he awkwardly tries to soothe.

 Y/n takes steady breaths as she tries to collect her thoughts. ”How do you do it?”, she whispers after a while making Arthur’s brows furrow. ”How can you keep going? All the awful things you’ve seen, all the emotions you go through a-and then the family just tells you to push it aside? How can you keep going?”, she rambles sniffling on the way.

 Arthur locks eyes with her for a minute before dropping his gaze to the ground. Y/n can see him clenching his jaw, his blue eyes turning sad. ”I ain’t like Tommy, I can’t just shove it down”, he whispers sadly causing Y/n to squase his hand.

 ”And you don’t have to be”, she reassures. There were great many times when she had heard the family put Arthur down, sometimes for a reason and sometimes she thought they were being cruel. The man had done everything to protect his family, Tommy had become the leader of the family but she saw Arthur as the father. The father who did everything to protect his kids and help them succeed, even if it meant they rose above his own authority.

 He has become a friend and a brother to her. Great many times she tried to get him to talk to her about his emotions, and he did talk. After talking he was usually more level. What he needed was someone to listen. Like she did now.

 ”Tommy say something to ya?”, he then asks raising his own eyes. He can see Y/n tense up at his words. Her lip starting to wobble a bit.

 ”You know how I’ve told y-you about my relationship with me own head?”, she whispers and she gets a nod in return. ”Tommy wants me to just shove all of my feelings into a locked box. But I can’t- I can’t, but I love Tommy. I love that man so much it hurts, I-I just wonder when will he get tired of me”

 Her words cause Arthur to shake his head slowly. ”There ain’t gonna be a day when he gets tired of ye. Look at me, Y/n, you look at me”, Arthur raises the hand that was holding hers to hold her chin.

 ”Tommy fell in love with ye integrity. Yes, I learned a pretty word and that is what Tommy loves the most about ye. No matter how much you battle with the devil, you never let him hide yer heart. ”, he reassures her and then drops her chin.

 ”Tommy ain’t good with lovey things but he cares more than anyone”, he finishes. Y/n gives a shaky sigh and looks at the ceiling. ”He was good with Grace”, she says vulnerably.

 That causes Arthur to rise up and drag her up with him. ”Wh- Where are we going?”, Y/n asks startled. Arthur looks down at her sharply.

 ”We’re going for a walk, ye need air and I ain’t gonna let you cry on yer own because of a dead woman”, then he stops in his tracks and stares down with wide eyes.

 ”Y-Y/n?”, he starts hesitantly. His sister-in-law raises her brows a little startled by his timid voice.

 ”Yes?”

 ”Are you up the swanny?”, the pure terror in his voice makes Y/n laugh outloud. Her giggles only strengthen with his following pout. ”I was just asking, don’t want to offer a pregnant lady whiskey”

 Y/n calms down from her giggles and looks up at Arthur with pure mirth now in her eyes. ”You look like I just asked you to be my midwife”, she shakes her head. ”But no, there is no babe in my belly”

 ”Thank the devil. I may be Arthur fucking Shelby but pregnant ladies are still a mystery to me”, he mutters more to himself but Y/n hears him and her laughter bubbles out anew.

 **

After their walk Y/n gets a ride back home. Now in her face was a soft smile. The miracles having a true friend could do.

Sighing she takes of her boots and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She makes her way up to her husbands study to see if he was already home.

 ”So instead of keeping the shop, you decide to go on a stroll with my brother like a little lovesick girl, eh?”, is the first greeting she gets when she opens the door to his room.

 Tommy knew it was her coming. She knew he wouldn’t bother knocking and he knew her steps all too well. He also knew the feeling brewing inside of him all too well. Pure and irrational jealousy.

 ”I went to your brother to calm my head”, Y/n tries to explain softly and goes to stand next to Tommy’s chair. She chews on her lip, her previous fears coming to light again.

 Tommy let’s out an unamused huff shaking his head. ”And you couldn’t just say this to me when I visited you, that you need to talk?”, he grunts, knowing he is being unfair.

The lecture he gave her this morning was all but encouraging of the fact but the boiling thought of her finding comfort in another man made him irrationally angry. The anger became even more burning hot when he knew he was part of the reason she had to find comfort.

 ”Tommy you know why I went to Arthur”, Y/n sighs tiredly. She knew that Tommy understood why she had gone but she also knew he was too prideful to admit that.

 ”And you think he is a prime example of how to control your emotions? Prime example of the shit inside can turn everything to shit on the outside”, he speaks coldly staring at her with his ice colored orbs. Y/n stares back clenching her jaw, now refusing to back down.

 ”Like you haven’t used that to your benefit”

 ”Excuse me?”

 ”Like you don’t use his emotions to your benefit! You know he will do anything for you! You know he has done everything and anything he could to see you succeed! ” she was yelling now. Thomas goes to interrupt her but she lifts her hand to stop him.

 ”I know you have been there for him too but he acknowledges that! Can’t you fucking see how much he adores you, he would bring you the moon if you asked him to! You have someone you can fall back on, I lost the person who I could fall back on 10 years ago! AND IT FUCKING HURTS!”, the end of her speech was a pure scream.

 She was tired of playing calm when she was seething and crying on the inside. She was already falling apart why not show it.

 Tommy looks up at her ever the picture of calm and collected strength. ”You have me”, he whispers finally. He pushes his chair back a little and reaches out a steady hand.

 Y/n takes it and lets him guide her into his lap, slumping down on him like a doll, his touch quelling the starvation for affection she was burning for.

 Thomas can feel the regret of his words seeping into his heart as he feels how much him just being there seemed to aid his wife. His sweet free spirited wife. His sweet treasure he wanted to hide from every wop and copper coming their way.

She only needed him to be there but he was not a man whole. He was man who had more than a world on his shoulders. 

”You fucking have me”, he then whispers again pressing his lips against Y/n’s forehead tightly. She brings her own hand to lay against the side of his neck, stroking her thumb along his jaw ever so gently.

 ”I can’t turn my emotions off like from a light switch, I can’t Tommy”, she admits with sorrow as she tries to burrow herself even closer to her husband.

 Tommy lets out a sigh and closes his eyes. ”You don’t have to”; he finally says, ”We’ll work on this. Hell we’ll work on this with Arthur, what do you say? He knows why I do what I do but he understands what your head does to you”

 Y/n smiles but then lets out a little snort. ”You really must love me to offer that”, she eventually giggles. ”Therapy with Arthur fooking Shelby”

 Her giggles make Tommy let out a small chuckle of his own. But then he turns serious. With quick almost rough movement he grasps both sides of her face and makes her look at him in the eye.

 ”That I do. I love you and I would kill every fucking living thing that tries to take you from me. I have you, you can fall on me”, he speaks seriously. Y/n smiles lifting her own hands to hold his wrists.

 ”I love you so much Tommy”, she whispers back and leans down to give him a sensual kiss. For fifteen minutes they stay just like that, her in his lap sharing lingering kisses. When they finally pull away Y/n is breathless but smiling as she rests her forehead against her husbands.

 ”Your heart is safe with me Tommy, let me take care of it for once too”

Part 2

#thomas shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #peaky blinder imagine

[sinon36]

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part VI

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Warnings: torture, violence, gore, mistakes.

- the sixth time you meet it’s after a lot of frenzied searches

- the missions have been slow a while now; you mostly act as a handler for TF141, alongside Laswell; the boys got used to your calm voice in their earpieces, guiding and directing them through buildings and underground bases; your “hacking” skills come in handy when Laswell gets caught up with something else

- they always come home in time for you to get supper together; it’s a nice way of living; so different from the loneliness you felt before; now you have a small family to call your own; the banter between you and the sergeants feels the air; you throw jokes to one another; Price quietly chuckles at his younger subalterns; Ghost on the other hand stays silent most of the time;

- you always sit next to him, in the mess hall, in briefing rooms, in helis, or cars; it’s something he’s not sure yet how to interpret; yes, the two of you got along just fine; you have the same dark humour that makes the other soldiers in the base shiver when they hear you laugh at your jokes; you can sit in comfortable silence for hours; you don’t pry into each other’s lives, which he’s thankful; you hadn’t even asked him his name, and you already know one another for more than two years; he won’t admit but he doesn’t like the way his heart feels when you laugh at one of Soap’s jokes, or discuss with Gaz one of the new books you’ve bought, or even when Price comes close to you, peaking over your shoulder and talking quietly with you about the files you’ve got in front of you;

- Ghost does not allow the thought, that he might be jealous on his comrades’ interactions with you, take roots inside his mind; he can’t; you’re just doing your job and you just happen to enjoy the 141’s company, in the most platonic way; he knows that your bond is far superior to that of the other’s; you saved his life, saw his face, and he in turned saved yours; that must add up to something;

- yet he feels that something’s wrong with him; Price pointed out that ever since you joined TF141 he seems quieter, and less present; he’s becoming more and more his namesake; he denies that, and argues that he’s just tired, now that he’s getting older; Price calls out his shite; the captain is older than him, and he’s far more active than him;

- but the captain can’t do more than that, a friendly conversation; yours and Ghost’s relationship is extremely professional; he rarely sees the two of you interact in the common room, or anywhere else for that matter, that’s not the battle field or the briefing room; you also work incredibly well; you two and Soap had made quite the trio when it comes to field work; he affectionately calls you the Unholy Trinity of Task Force 141; trails of body are left in your wake and almost all missions go well without the tinniest hitch; the men joke around that surely you are some kind of witch that made a deal with the devil to have success; you laugh and chalk it all up to skill, hard work, and a shite ton of sheer luck;

- though you keep reminding them that your luck will run out one day, they ignore you, joking that you’ll have to tolerate them until you retire; you’re not as optimistic; you’re the realist of the whole team; you know the risks are ten times bigger than theirs

- most of the times you go in alone, unarmed, no back up, no communication; you only have yourself to rely on; and you know that when the fatigue catches up with you, you’ll slip up, make a mistake, that’ll get you killed or worse

- and then the worst you feared happens; you go MIA during a simple infiltration; the boys find no trace to indicate where you’d been taken to or by whom; Laswell can’t find any sign of you, no matter how hard she tries, or how far she’s stretching her informant network; nothing; denial turns to angry searches, busting down doors and torturing anyone they come across; that turns to desperation, they start looking into the most unrelated events they find, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they get a glimpse of your name, or an alias, or something, no matter how small; and that turns to silence, they stop bringing you up, start avoiding your name or anything that might point out you’re not there; after Laswell mentions you in one of their briefings, that the time to change your status to KIA is due, Ghost smashes the chair you used to sit in

- it’s one of the most violent reactions he’s had outside the battlefield since you’d disappeared, and Price starts to worry that his lieutenant will do something stupid if they don’t find out what happened to you; he threatens Laswell to not touch that file of yours; ‘Not yet, Kate. Not yet.’ He says in a sadder and calmer voice    

- acceptance never came; the thought that maybe you’re not even alive, buried somewhere unmarked, or body burned beyond recognition is a thought they’d long banished; wherever they went they kept their eyes peeled for you; their hope of finding you never wavers

- and then their prayers are answered; they get something; it’s not much; a 3-second clip; it’s blurred, to few pixels to really make out any details; and the camera seems to be moved violently, barely catching the hunched posture of a person tied to a chair; Laswell got it form one of her contacts; it’s from a half destroyed hard drive they recovered from heli the dropped out of the sky

- it’s not much; actually, is far too little to go on with; the video doesn’t show a face, nor reveals any names; the background so dark they can’t make out anything; But they agree it’s you; from the size of your body, to your complexion to the colour of your hair, now longer and falling over your face; it’s been months since they last saw you but they know it’s you   

- ‘Proof of life’ Price concludes; ‘But fur who?’ Soap voices the question they all thought of that; ‘It don’t matter’ Ghost points out, voice gruffer than ever; ‘Where is more important.’ Gaz specifies

- they get to work; they comb the crash site, having received the location from Laswell; at first they don’t find anything; but Ghost’s keen eyes find it; it’s a small piece of silvery metal, wedged in the dirt; it’s only half, but he can make out the letters clearly; cyrillic letter; he grunts; ‘Price…’ he shouts to get everyone’s attention; when they come closer he shows it to them; ‘Russians’ they conclude

- the hunt begins; Nik is there to smuggle the Brits over the Russian borders and to provide them with an extraction vehicle, in his case an old rusty Russian helicopter, that can barely fly under the radar, it flinches and grunts at every gust of wind, but it’s as covert as can be; they don’t bear any insignia visible on their black camo uniforms; their faces tucked under black balaclavas; even their guns are Russian, some AK-47 Nik provided them with no striations on the barrels; they even agreed to keep their mouths shut, letting the captain converse with anyone that they might encounter; no one can no that a team of Brits put their feet on Russian soil

- they carefully went over all the details just like you got them used to when you did infiltrations; they are as prepared as ever; the plan is simple; take out the guards that make their rounds through the facility and take their place; that will give them sufficient time to look for you and find a way out to get you out; “if” they find you; the information came through Laswell and it was already a couple weeks old; chances are you’ve been moved;

- they search everywhere; you’re not there; time for plan B: infiltrate their data base; Price gets his hand on a computer and plugs the USB containing the backdoor virus; it takes some time to install, then to reboot the whole system; Laswell gives the green light that they’re in; they get out of there leaving no trace that they ever were inside

- the next two weeks are gruesome; Ghost spends most of his time destroying the punching bags in the gym; he barely eats and barely sleeps; he starts hearing your voice in the night when he climbs the ladder to the roof, perched up like an owl, having a smoke away from everyone; he hears a soft whisper, or a small chuckle; he’s going crazy, he thinks; crazy with worry for you;

- it’s been years since Simon felt worry for someone; when his family was killed, he vowed to never get close to another soul again; but then you had to save him; you didn’t even know him; risked your life for a stranger that cannot repay you for that act of kindness

- but he can; he can make sure you’re safe on missions; that’s why he’d always stalk your figure through the scope; that’s why he’d have you with him and Soap every time you’d split up; so he can keep his eyes on that pretty face of yours; that’s why he’d threaten the other marines on base with the court martial when he’d hear lewd comments about you being their whore and so much worse; he’d be wringing their necks if Price didn’t keep such a close eyes on his actions  

- he misses you, and your presence, and your sweet perfume, and your voice, and your eyes that would look straight into his when he told you a joke, smirk matching his own; he missed the way you’d drink your tea together in the morning, in silence broken only by soft sighs and the sound of the sofa under your weights; if he got up before you he’d make sure to boil enough water for two mugs and he’d put the tea in the moment he could hear your footsteps heading to the common room; he was so accustomed to you that he could make out your footsteps even in the busiest corridors; lighter than most, almost quiet but quick, lively; he misses that too

- the way you’d make your away towards him and with a nod take the seat next to his, softly brushing his shoulder with yours in an unspoken acknowledgement… I’m here, next to you… your simple touch made his skin boil underneath his clothes and yearn for more; he’d take advantage of situations out in the field; he’d grab you and help you climb over obstacles, he’d give you a head anytime he felt you needed it; and you’d never refuse his help;

- he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t find you; just like you found him when you first met

- two weeks pass by slower when you’re almost always awake, Simon knew that already; but he’s the first to get on the tarmac when Price gives the order for heading out; Laswell managed to pinpoint your location; one of the Russian commanders moved you to an off the record, but not really cause ‘Russians are shit at keeping a low profile.’ Laswell adds, compound where they’d keep foreign prisoners for interrogations; the American woman sends them out to get you out and wipe any witness that has seen your face

- exactly what Simon wanted; the green light to do what he’s best at: mauling his enemies;

- the compound they keep you in is underground, ventilation system outdated, like pretty much any piece of technology they keep; they record the interrogation on an old Sony camera; you doubt it can register your mumbled responses, not that you’d say anything useful; you’d match every question with a curse in a clear American accent; you don’t want to give them anything that might be traced back to your British boys;

- they can’t get anything out of you; not your name, not whom do you work for, or where you’re from, what you were looking for when you infiltrated their operation, etc.; they were met with an unsurmountable resistance; no matter how many times they’d beat you, drown you, burn you, cut you, electrocute you, or humiliate you; they took away most of your clothes, leaving you in your underwear and what little remained from your tank top, enough to cover only your upper torso; you were cold, hungry and in pain; you had been in this condition for months; but you wouldn’t give up

- in the academy they taught you that the longer you lasted the more chances of being found; that thought has crossed your mind more than once; but you don’t allow yourself to hope; that would only weigh you down the more time passes; no, you look for ways to free yourself and learn the personnel’s schedule; and you wait for the best opportunity

- that window of opportunity is near; for a week now you worked on pulling out the nail in the chair that holds the chair’s handle together; you managed to pull out the nail and twist your wrist to try and scratch at the rope; the motion is uncomfortable and painful, the skin of your wrist is cut open by the rope that soaks up your blood; you’ve been at it for hours, trying to cut yourself loose; and you finally manage; surprise overtakes you as the rope unravels and your hand is free; the limb aches with exertion as you shake it to get the flow of circulation to get back to normal

- then you lean forward and grab at the knife left there from the previous session, still wet with your blood; freeing yourself is more strenuous than you would have imagined; as you bend down to free your ankles you almost pass out from the sudden rush of blood to your head; you lost of it, enough to hinder you in your escape; but you push through

- when you stand up you grab the chair for support and move in slow motion afraid you’ll pass out; you have a plan in mind already; get dresses in the coat left on the hanger by the door, and lay in wait for the interrogator to come back for another round; now that your body is filled with adrenaline times moves slower, but it doesn’t take long for the door handle to start to move; you wait for the tall and skinny man to enter; if he were a little leaner you wouldn’t have had a chance; but this failed physician that took to torture won’t even know what hit him; you stab him in the neck with a somewhat quick strike;

- he dies drowning in his own blood; you manage to drag his corpse under the table, leaving the pool of blood untouched; maybe they’ll think that you finally bled out and someone took your corpse to the morgue to be burned; you don’t care as you grab the handgun off his waist; the same one he’d threaten you with when you wouldn’t answer;

- judging by the thick clothes your assailant wears you know outside is cold; so you do what they told you at the academy; you undress the corpse an take his pants an shoes; they’re huge on you but you can’t complain; you shiver at the warmth still trapped in the wool fibres;

- you make your way outside checking for any guards; you found none, as expected; you heard the Russian complain that is too cold and stuffy down here that nobody but him frequents the lower levels; some people don’t know to shut up and you are glad to exploit that; with his gun, knife and car keys in hand you make your way through the dark corridors; you follow the boot prints left on the filthy floors;

- the only guards you encounter are the ones stationed by the door that leads to the stairs; you make quick work of them; one shot for each of their heads; you almost fall down on your ass as the gun kicks back in recoil; you take a moment to lean on the wall taking a few calming breaths

- your ascend is slow, laboured breaths escaping your gaping mouth; you strain your eyes and try to decipher the word on the walls marking the level and the facility; you’re looking for the parking lot; you find it after climbing to the second to last level; Russians really don’t know how to keep a facility secure; as you climb the emergency stairs there is no one to stop you; they underestimated your ability to escape this hell hole; their mistake

- as you reach the parking lot you look for the physician’s car; it’s a rusty red Lada; it’ll do just fine; as you get in the passenger side you start hearing gunshots; it’s faint; maybe you imagined it; but no, it’s there; you don’t wait to find out what’s happening, as you turn the key in the ignition you pull out of the spot and quickly drive towards the exit; whatever firefight broke out in there, pulled away every guard from their stationary position; for a moment you think about TF 141, but you quickly dismiss it

- you make your way out, a little dizzy from the spiral ascension; once out of there you notice that there’s forest around, and some snow; you hit gravel and as you look back you notice the exit; the only indication that there is something men made here; you doubt that tunnel can be spotted from a drone; the trees block the line of sight; that confirms your suspicions

- the gun fire must be coming from another escapee, not as lucky as you; you drive down the dirt road following every twist and turn hoping you won’t see any other cars; you check the glove compartment; now that the adrenaline rush is over your body aches like never before; you search for some pain meds but you only find a wallet with some cash in it; Russian rubbles, enough to keep the car going for a while; maybe you’ll find a gas station; it’s risky but you are I dire need of food and water; that might give you enough strength to push forward

- the 141 moves quickly taking care of the two sentinels at the mouth of the tunnel; two well placed shots and they’re down; Gaz and Soap move the bodies in a bush and hide their car in the tree line; hopefully nobody will come looking for this two in the next crucial minutes; they comb through the facility dropping anyone they encounter; their pistols bear silencers masking the loud sounds; they move deeper and deeper, but soon the alarm is sounded and a full fight ensues; the guards are no match for the 141; they drop like flies; but the fight costs them precious minutes;

- Ghost breaks away from the rest of his teammates; he knows they got it; he needs to hurry to find you; he needs to make sure you are still breathing, and that your pretty eyes still hold fire in them; he gets to lowest level where the holding cells are; he checks behind every grate and every door until a he gets to what seems to be the place they torture the prisoners

- he notices how filthy and cold it is; but what makes his blood freeze is the chair and the large pool of fresh blood; no…, he’s too late; he came to late; a wave of blinding fury surges and like a tsunami Ghost thrashes the room; he stops only when he discovers the body of a tall Russian man behind the desk; his throat slit; pants and boots missing; atta girl he can’t help the smirk taking over his face under the balaclava; you were capable, he knew that, but you still manage to surprise him; he gets out trying to radio in the discovery to the rest of his teammates

- the radio crackles with static, concrete walls too thick for the signal to penetrate; he’s made his decision; he’s going after you even though he knows Price will kick his ass later; you need him; probably not as much as he needs you; he chases the droplets of blood you left on the ground as you walked towards the emergency staircase; at the door, two more casualties; no, you didn’t need him; you had it handled

- in the parking lot he finds a military truck with the key in the ignition; he follows you as quickly as the car gets on the dirt road

- you drive for what feels like hours; your mind is struggling, eyes out of focus and body feeling heavier with every minute; you don’t know why or when the car starts to shake and tilt, you feel yourself flying out of the seat; everything goes black

- Ghost’s eyes scan the road in front of him through the thick snowfall; he almost misses the red car that swerved of the road and now rests on the side in a ditch, snow piles on top almost making it disappear; he gets out of the truck and approaches the car pistol pointed at it; he wipes away the snow that covers the window on the driver’s side; inside he can make out a body that’s laying on its side face obscured by the thick collar of the jacket; he pulls the door open carefully and nudges the body to see if they’re conscious or not; when there’s no movement he peels the collar from their face

- Simon thinks he is no longer able to panic; he survived through his father’s and brother’s abuse; then he joined the military where they taught him to surpass any fears and to control himself; then the Mexican cartel who buried him alive; that experience showed him what terror looks like; only to return home and find all the people that he held dear massacred; Ghost is the result of so many horrifying events; he is the cautionary tale of what prolonged survival in a malignant environment looks like

- the level of fear matches that of when he found the body of Beth hugging Josep’s smaller one; he acts without thinking, grabbing your limp and cold body and pulling you out of the wreckage; your head is bleeding from where you hit it on the window; lips are blue and your skin cold to the touch; he checks for a pulse; he can’t tell if he feels yours or his own; his hands are trembling with rage and powerlessness; he grabs for the radio’ telling Price he’d found you but you need medical assistance immediately; there’s no answer on the other side; just static

- he hoists you up and takes you to the stolen truck placing you in the front seat; he climbs in the driver’s seat letting you down slowly over the seat head resting on his lap; he puts the heat on high trying to make you warm again; he checks for your breathing and he’s thrilled to find that small puffs of air come from your open mouth

- he starts driving, he doesn’t know where; he neds a safe house to treat your wounds and to keep you safe; the snow is falling heavy, making impossible to see where he’s driving; then he sees it; to the side he can make out a building in the tree line

- the abandoned cottage is nothing more than a ruin; but it has four walls and a roof and he’s glad to see a small fireplace, dry wood abandoned next to it; he puts you down on what he can only assume is what remained of a thick rug long forgotten by its previous owners; he works quickly and efficiently, in mere minutes a fire burns casting a warm glow in the barren room

- he moves to work on you; he peels the jacket off only to find that you are nearly naked under the stolen clothes; he gets angrier at the Russians wishing he could bring them back only to subject them to the same kind of torture they did you and some more; he quickly checks for deeper cuts or signs of infection; but he can’t find none; they must’ve given you antibiotics to keep you alive as much as possible;

- he cleans the cuts with the antiseptic wet wipes his med kit contains; then he dresses the wounds with gauze; your thin body looks like a mummy from the amount gauze; he addresses your head next wiping the blood of and bandaging your forehead; he sighs in relief when your lips and skin slowly turn pink from the warmth; you lay in between his legs as he sits on the floor, your head laying on his thigh

- he tries contacting 141 again, but to no avail; looks like he’ll have to hold out here tonight; he’ll stay awake to protect you until you wake up

- it’s morning when you stir, he watches your face intently from above you; your eyelids groggily open eyes trying to focus; as you lay eyes on brown ones, hidden behind a black balaclava you start to panic; you weakly push at his hands and chest, mumbling and trying to get away from him; he doesn’t relent though; his grip is firm on you and in a commanding voice he orders you to sit still; hearing your name does the trick; you didn’t tell those fuckers your name; and his embrace is not restraining more like protecting; you think hard and try to remember eyes flickering over the balaclava; ‘Ghost…’ you croak when your vocal chords decide to vibrate; ‘Gho…’ you repeat even more brokenly; he shushes you and reassures you that yes, he’s here and no, he won’t go anywhere; not without you; that puts your mind at ease and you close your eyes again

-when you wake up again is noon; he feeds you some water through cracked and dry lips and he gives you a dose of morphine to help with the pain; that sends you back to sleep

- the third time you wake, you are being carried by strong arms; the sound of blades cutting air becomes louder and louder; Ghost walks backwards shielding you from the snow that’s being picked up by the gusts of wind;

- he climbs the heli; Nik greets Ghost, as Soap and Gaz pull him and you inside; the ride is silent, no one says anything; the Russian pilot takes you to a better equipped safehouse

- you wake up to someone entering the room; you’re in a warm comfortable bed, IV connected to your wrist fluid being pumped in your veins; you open your eyes to a dark-haired man bringing in a tray of food; you panic again when you hear him greet you, voice laced with a deep Russian accent; he sees the look on your face and he slowly puts the tray on the table; ‘Don’t vorry, I’m Nick. A friend ov 141. I von’t hurt yu, agent’; he tells you it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, and that you are prettier than Gaz told him; you watch him in silence, regarding him with apprehension; when he stops talking, you look to the door and ask for Ghost

- he chuckles knowingly and then informs you that “your boy” is being ripped a new one by the captain just outside, and he leaves you to tell Price that your awake; you don’t have time to correct him cause he already out the door; Price walks in soon after, you’re glad to see him; ‘Ah, there you are’ he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; he asks you how you’re feeling; numb thanks to the morphine; he wants to know what happened

- it was a trap; they were waiting for you, Russians; they wanted to know who you were and who did you work for; you told them nothing; he knows; he asks you about your time in the facility; you don’t quite remember much, just the torture and the questions; he tells you that you did good, and that you need to rest now;

- Gaz and Soap stop by to talk to you a bit; you tell them you’ll be fine; and then you ask for Ghost; they rub their necks a little ashamed; you asked them what happened; Ghost got scolded for going AWOL in search for you; Price even threatened him with the court martial; you huff; and swing the blanket off; you sit at the ledge of the bed; you’re glad to find you’ve been clothed in a pair of slacks and a long sleeve shirt; you grab the IV needle and pull hard on it; then you stand grabbing the table for support

- the two sergeants move forward to catch you if you fall; you wave them away and move towards the door; you search the living room for any signs of Ghost; instead, Price and Nik talk about something at the dinner table; when Price sees you up and about, despite him telling you to rest, he mutters a ‘Bloody stubborn they are’ and points toward the kitchen; you thank him; you can hear Nik commenting something about you and Ghost deserving each other; but you keep walking, slowly, one hand on the wall for balance

- Ghost stands by the window, his back turned to you; he ignores your poor attempt at greeting him; without thinking you cross the distance and hug his waist burying your nose in his hoodie; he tenses

- ‘I’m probably high right now,’ you nuzzle your face in his back inhaling his scent: soap, cigarettes and something you can’t quite tell; ‘thank you, for coming after me’; you let go of him turning to go back to rest; he grabs your upper arm and gently turns you; he watches you closely, you can feel his breath on your face, and smell the cigarette on his lips; his balaclava is pushed up his nose; he stares into your eyes as he speaks ‘Tell me to stop’ his eyes shift to your lips

- ‘Please don’t’; he kisses you, deeply and for a long time; you pull away for air ‘Ghost, I…’ ‘No,’ he cuts you off; ‘Simon, my name is Simon’ you smile lost in his pretty brown eyes; ‘Simon Riley’ and he surprises you taking his balaclava off; you stare at him, trying to memorize every scar and blemish; he’s handsome, in a rugged way; blonde hair, pale skin, and brown eye; you kiss him again.                                                

Previous part here.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

[xsezzie]

Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas @chibimochii !!! I am your @squealing-santa this year~!

I finally got to write for these two and I really hope you enjoy it. Also my first time participating in this event so it was interesting to try, I hope did okay!

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: It's tickling???

AO3 Post

Neuvillette is eager to spend some of the festive season with Wriothesely this year... although Neuvillette has received some questionable and unsightly attire.

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“What’s this?”

Wriothesely stared at the rare visitor in front of him. His serious and blank expression heavily contrasted the red and white hat atop his head.

“Are you aware of the tradition of Christmas, Wriothesely?” As Neuvillette asked, he leaned forward against the Duke’s desk, bell on his hat jingling, as if anticipating the answer like a child who can’t wait.

Cute.

“Yes, I’m aware… who put this hat on you?”

“Sedene did, she said I should try and be more festive this year.”

Wriothesely chuckled, “I think you have been plenty festive all the years you’ve decided to celebrate.”

“Well this year is… different.

“How so?”

“Come to the surface.”

And so, this is how Wriothesely found himself spending the week of Christmas in the Palais. Sitting on Neuvillette’s couch, tea in hand, cold rain howling outside.

“Would you like one of these ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters that Clorinde purchased for everyone?”

They were indeed ugly, but in a cute way. 

“I am most certainly not wearing one of those, I know you will try and take a picture.” The Duke glared playfully at Neuvillette.

“Come now, you will get cold.”

“Then light the fireplace!”

“I… do not want to.”

“You’re the *Hydro* Sovereign, the fire isn’t going to do anything to you.” Wriothesely couldn’t help but laugh to himself, “Seriously though, you control this rain don’t you? Why is it so bad tonight? Is something wrong?”

Neuvillette signed, “Yes, something is terribly wrong… You will not wear this ugly sweater.”

“Oh ha-ha, very funny… why don’t you wear the sweater, hmm?

“It… clashes with my robes.” 

“That is the point isn’t it? It’s ugly and it needs to look as bad as possible. Come here, I will help you.”

Neuvillette looks at Wriothesely with wide eyes as he calmly approaches, “N-No I can do this myself! I am not a child…”

The smirk on the Duke’s face said he had other ideas though, easily tugging on Neuvillette’s coattail to stop him from moving away and pulling him into his muscular arms.

“Not this again!” The Iudex stifled a laugh.

“Not what again? Whatever could be wrong, dear Sovereign?” 

“Y-You are going to do that tickle thing to me again aren’t you!? Everytime you think I am being shy or not compliant with your schemes…” 

Wriothesely chuckled and easily dragged him to the couch, gently pinning him down and trying to undo the buttons of his coat, “Well I wouldn’t be doing the ‘tickle thing’ if you would just wear the sweater. Come on, I will buy my own if you put this one on.”

“W-Whehey are you like this!?”

“Honestly, it is rather amusing to watch your ears turn red when you are embarrassed. Just look at them.”

The Duke makes a point by softly pinching the tips of Neuvillette’s pointy ears, making him let out a small uncharacteristic squeak. “Stohohop!”

Wriothesely manages to get the robe off with minimal effort, mainly because he knows Neuvillette is secretly enjoying this. This affection between the two, as well as secret visits has become more common recently, and neither is complaining. These meetings have allowed Wriothesely to get to know the new leader of the nation in a more intimate setting… including the fact that he is ticklish.

“Ah you love it, now put this sweater on before I tickle you more.”

“N-Nohohohoo!!”

“Alright then you leave me no choice…”

Wriothesely prepares one sleeve of the sweater and pulls Neuvillette’s arm up, looping it into the hole and successfully getting it through. Not that the Chief Justice is putting up much of a fight as he appears to be in some sort of giggle fit at this point of the absurdity of the situation, this allows him to easily get the other arm into its sleeve as well… that just leaves his head.

“I swear I am going to get someone to cut your hair sometime… it’s so damn long…”

Neuvillette huffs in amusement, “I quite like my long hair, as do the Melusine’s… and I know you do as well…” 

That rare knowing smile, he will pay for this.

Wriothesely then realises he has Neuvillette in a pretty good restraint, his arms in the sweater above his head, “I think you require more tickling for Christmas, O’ Hydro Dragon~”

No response could be given apart from a surprised shout followed by a wheezy laugh as Wriothesely digs his fingertips into Neuvillette’s armpits, causing him to squirm and desperately pull his trapped arms down.

“Nahahahahahaa Wriotheseheheheheheheeellyyy!!!”

“Sorry not sorry, sir.”

His fingers travel down Neuvillette’s delicate ribs, making him kick wildly behind the Duke’s back, kneeing him a couple times.

“Ouch, come on now is such violence necessary? I am only doing the ‘tickle thing’ you know?” The smirk was audible in his voice.

“Hhahahahaha you d-deserve ihihihihihihiiit stahahahahahahaap!!!” Neuvillette’s wheezing laughter only made Wriothesely chuckle and begin to dance his fingers down his sides now, causing the hydro wielder to writhe beneath him even more. 

“NOOOHOHO!!!!”

“Are you going to wear the sweater?”

“N-Nohohoho you wear ihihihit!”

“Ah, I guess more tickles for you then!”

And so the Duke returned to tickling Neuvillette’s exposed armpits, driving him nearly insane at this point. He quite liked the look of the Iudex when he was laughing and free of worry. The slight permanent frown he seems to always wear is replaced with a beet red face and tears of laughter beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. He honestly looks as if he might be enjoying this a little.

Wriothesely decides he doesn’t want Neuvillette to pass out and stops his tickling, taking the exhausted man and sitting him upright, legs across his lap. As Neuvillette recovers from the ordeal, he finds the sweater being forced over his head finally and Wriothesely adjusts it and his hair so he is snug.

“Gotcha~”

Neuvillette doesn’t even protest, nor does he want to. He rests his head against the younger man's chest, feeling warm and comfortable as he gently rubs his back to help him come down from the ticklish high.

“Not a word to anyone… especially the Melusines…”

“Don’t worry, this was too precious for me to want to share with anyone but you.”

“Hah. Trying to butter me up now?” Neuvillette chuckles.

“I will save that for tomorrow. For now, let's relax. The rain stopped so I assume whatever was on your mind was successfully tickled away?” 

Neuvillette’s ears turning a little red did not go unnoticed, he looked up with wide eyes as if he had been caught. “Ah… I guess so… though did you really have to tickle me?”

“Yes, and I have the urge to do it again now that you’re in this awful sweater.”

“W-Wriothesely don’t!”

Neuvillette’s words were cut off with a wheeze from himself and Wriothesely decided to try his legs and feet now, not that he minded. This was a nice way to spend Christmas Eve.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon… Merry Christmas~”

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #genshin impact tickling #genshin impact #tickling #neuvillette #wriothesely #wriolette #christmas fic #tickle fic