#and she doesn’t see him vanish he’s just gone

[sqlmn]

Happy 2023 have OCs from a plot that is older than a decade. None of these are the main characters lmao.

Ladd Moore (the main focus here) is an ass. Like just that’s his main trait. He’s outgoing and rude and a bit dense but incredibly good with technology. He’s in the field department of the Supernatural Bureau of Investigation (SBI) and sometimes when at HQ, research grabs hold of him to help with some tech. Only thing is, that’s between research leads and him. No one else in fieldwork thinks Ladd should touch a computer and most research staff think he’s annoying and stupid. So when he volunteers to fix something no one thinks he’s serious and they call research up and they go down and see Ladd watching them and just have to say “you didn’t want to help out the field division?” And he’s like “they told me no”.

His older sister, Lass, is also in the field department’s staff. Madison (Mads) is in research.

The siblings actually have a pretty traumatic childhood which is why Ladd follows his sister to this career. She thinks he’s being annoying but he wants to protect her since he blames himself for ruining her childhood… while she’s scared that it’s her fault for ruining his. So they don’t have the most peaceful relationship and it’s tense between them at times.

[smileysuh]

night terror

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As much as you love being a mother, you think some of your favorite moments might just happen when the kids are asleep. Seeing Seungcheol with Hana and Daehyun is one of the great joys of your life, but you have needs too, and after a long day, you really need something to help you relax.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, bathroom sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, praise, fingering, blow job, deep throating, mentions of masochism, loud sex, your kid hearing you scream during sex and then your husband lies to her and says it's night terrors when really it's him - he's the night terror, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.2k

🍭 aus. rich businessman cheol, husband cheol, established relationship, father cheol, stay at home mom reader, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. i need a rich husband sugar daddy and i need him now

There had been a time in his life when Seungcheol had thought he might never settle down. As a busy businessman, he’d never been able to comprehend how it would be possible to factor a wife - let alone children - into his schedule. But then, one summer afternoon, he’d met you, and all his fears had vanished.

His previous relationships had been marred with accusations about his lack of making time, and he’d been ready to repeat the same issues with you. However, the conflicts never came. You were a strong, capable, young woman, and as the first months of you flew by blissfully, Seungcheol had realized you accepted him for him, work and all. If anything, distance made the heart grow fonder, and when you were together, you both gave each other your complete attention, nurturing the relationship in a way that he’d never had a relationship truly nurtured before. 

Six months in, he’d asked you to marry him, and it was the most confident he’d ever been with a decision in his entire life. When you’d gotten pregnant, only a short while after your honeymoon, the two of you had sat down to discuss what being parents would look like. You’d both been committed to giving your children the best lives possible going forward, and - knowing he’d be around less than a dad with a different, less demanding job - Seungcheol had asked if you’d be interested in the stay-at-home life.

It’s been five years since then, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where Seungcheol has questioned his decisions with you. He comes home at erratic times in the evening, but he always finds you excelling at motherhood. 

He truly doesn’t know how you do it and make it look easy. You have such a gentle way with not only the kids, but him as well, and he almost feels as if you were meant for this role. You’re a caregiver, through and through, and Seungcheol thinks he must be one of the luckiest men in the whole world to be able to fulfill the provider counterpart. 

It’s a Monday evening, and he’s managed to get off work early. When he arrives at your large family home, he follows the sound of giggles to the kitchen. This room has been the heart of your house ever since the kids were old enough to follow you around it like ducklings, watching you cook with eyes full of wonder - he thinks they must get that trait from him at least. 

He leans against the wall while he watches you, taking in the vision in front of him. It’s mac and cheese night, a long-held tradition in your household, wherein you help the kids make the base, and allow them to choose their favorite toppings to go in the ramekins before oven baking. 

The elder of your children, Daehyun, is more adventurous, and it looks like you’re helping him saute a pan of mushrooms on the gas stove top. Even while dealing with the hot element, and a little boy grabbing at your apron while teetering on his cooking step stool, you’re giving just as much attention to your youngest. 

Hana is the apple of Seungcheol’s eye, and - bless her heart - she’s a cheese fiend. There must be five different kinds of cheese on the counter, and you’re softly talking to her while she struggles to grate a small block of what looks to be gruyere. 

“You’re doing so well,” you tell your daughter. “Give mommy just a moment and she’ll help you grate the last of it. I don’t want you hurting your hands.”

“Okay, mama,” Hana nods, setting the cheese down before leaning over to watch you stir the pan. 

“Do you want to try a mushroom, sweetheart?” you ask, picking one out of the pan to taste for yourself. “They’re very good.”

Hana’s always been better at trying new things if you or Seungcheol go first, and the businessman finds himself smiling while he watches the soft moment.

“Okay,” Hana says, but she doesn’t sound too sure. 

“It’s a little hot, so I’m going to put it on the cutting board to cool before either of you taste it, okay?” You lift a few mushrooms from the sizzling pan, setting them down and gently blowing away the steam. “Let me know if these are good, Daehyun, or if you’d like me to cook them a little longer to make them more crispy.”

The three of you are so wrapped up in your own little world, and Seungcheol supposes the soft classical music in the background had drowned out the sound of his footfalls as he’d approached. He decides it’s a good time to make his presence known, so he moves into the room, coming to stand on the other side of the island countertop.

“Look at you three chefs,” he muses.

“Daddy!” His children scream, with Daehyun jumping from his stool to run around the table and hug Seungcheol around the waist. Hana, meanwhile, still needs help getting down from the steps, and Seungcheol watches you lift the small child to set her on the floor so she can join her brother on the other side of Seungcheol. 

“It smells good,” Seungcheol tells you, smiling at you as he rubs the backs of his children.

“We were just trying mushrooms!” Daehyun announces, releasing Seungcheol in favour of running to you to grab the food before dashing back to his dad, holding his hand out. 

Seungcheol accepts the mushroom, and he tries it, letting out an embellished groan. “These are great,” he says, which prompts both children to try them too.

“Perfect!” Daehyun agrees.

Seungcheol watches you turn off the heat under the pan, moving to finish grating the gruyere for Hana. “How was work, my love?” you ask.

“Fine,” he sighs, not wanting to think about his job in a moment like this. “I couldn’t miss mac and cheese night. How were things around here?”

“Hana, why don’t you tell daddy about preschool?” you suggest, moving a pan of preprepared pasta bake ramekins on a tray to the island counter. 

“We did art!” Hana says proudly. “Made something for you.”

“Really?” Seungcheol loves receiving drawings from his kids. “Want to go grab it for me?”

You’re two steps ahead of him, even while cooking, and you reach behind yourself to grab a piece of paper from the fridge. You hold it out to Seungcheol, and he takes it from you, smiling widely as he looks at the image.

“It’s our family,” Hana explains, although, with the dad character holding a briefcase and dressed in a suit, Seungcheol thinks it would be impossible for him to think it’s anything else.

“I love it, you’re going to be an artist one day,” he tells her, reaching down to pick her up, tucking her by his hip. “And how about you, Daehyun? How was soccer practice?”

“Mommy picked me up after school and she had veggie snacks which weren’t that good but I ate them anyways, and we did practice and I scored goals-” Seungcheol loves how his son rambles, and he listens patiently while Daehyun describes finding a coin on the field that he can add to his collection of treasures he’s picked up throughout his life.

By the time the story is finished, you’ve already put the mac and cheese in the oven, and you’re standing with your palms on the counter, watching Seungcheol interact with his children. There’s a gentle smile on your face, your eyes lit up with affection.

Seungcheol is drawn to you, and he walks around the island, Hana still tucked on his hip. “Hi,” he says softly, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “How was mommy’s day?”

“Good,” you respond. “Hana and I went to a greenery after preschool to get some new plants for the garden.”

“Oh yeah?” Seungcheol looks down at his daughter. “Did you two find anything nice?”

“Mommy got me a bouquet of tulips,” Hana confirms. 

“We also got a few more lavender bushes and some rosemary,” you add. “She played with bubbles while I planted them, and then we went to get Daehyun for soccer. A few of his friends came over with their moms after that to play in the pool, and then we started mac and cheese.”

“Sounds like a full day,” Seungcheol nods. He’s constantly in awe of how you juggle both kids, house maintenance, a social life, and cooking. 

“The kids are tuckered out,” you say, reaching out to brush some hair from Hana’s face. “They were thinking we could watch some Disney movies after dinner before bed.”

“Well we can’t say no to that, can we,” Seungcheol smiles. 

“No, we can’t,” you agree. “Daehyun, the mac and cheese is in the oven, should we start on a salad?”

“Do we have to?” he asks.

“Greens are an important part of a healthy diet,” you remind the little boy who’s always had problems with his veggies. “How about you help me choose what type of salad to make?”

“Can we have the one with lots of cheese?” Hana questions.

Seungcheol loves his little cheese fiend, he loves his family, and most of all, he loves that he gets to share it with you every day.

After being filled up with hot mac and cheese, the kids had fallen asleep less than thirty minutes into their movie. Seungcheol had carried them to bed, double checking to make sure they were tucked in all right, and now, he heads into your shared room, closing the soundproof doors behind him.

“I’ve said it already, but I’ll say it again, dinner was great,” he tells you, as he heads to his closet to begin removing his button-up shirt. “Even the salad was good, I haven’t seen Daehyun eat that many greens in months.” 

“He’s warming up to them,” you smile, coming up behind your husband to give him a hug from behind, your cheek pressed to his back. “We were all happy you were there to eat with us. I know work has been busy, so I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

“And miss mac and cheese night?” Seungcheol scoffs. “Not even Jeon Wonwoo himself could keep me from that.”

You laugh at the mention of his business partner. “He can join next time, if he has the time. Hana misses Uncle Woo.”

“That's because he dotes on her.”

“As if you don’t.” 

“We all do, she’s a special kid, that one.”

“They both are,” you muse. “Daehyun downplayed it, but he was doing really well in practice. Coach says he has some real talent. Apparently he can’t shut up about the way that you take him to games twice a month in box seats. I think it’s making a huge difference.”

“That’s good to hear,” Seungcheol smiles. 

“Anyways, enough about our days,” you sigh. “Do you need a shower?”

“Why? Do I smell?” Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle.

“No, I was just thinking I might have one, and maybe you’d like to join me.”

Seungcheol groans. “Well, now I definitely need a shower.”

“Perfect.” You pull away from his back, reaching down to take off your shirt as you head to the bathroom. “I’ll see you in there, daddy.” 

As much as you love being a mother, you think some of your favorite moments might just happen when the kids are asleep. Seeing Seungcheol with Hana and Daehyun is one of the great joys of your life, but you have needs too, and after a long day, you really need something to help you relax. 

You turn the shower on, and as the spa-like bathroom fills with steam, you undo your pants. You’re slipping out of the fabric when Seungcheol joins you. His large form gently presses against your back, and his lips find your shoulder. His hands smooth down your arms softly, and he presses his crotch against your bum, showing you how turned on he is.

“You look so beautiful today,” he tells you.

“And you look as sexy as ever,” you respond, smiling while leaning back against his bare chest. 

“I do, do I?” You feel him grin where he’s kissing your neck, and you rest the back of your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of him. “Guess this means we’re a match made in heaven.”

You love when he sweet-talks you like this, and when his hand slips down your abdomen to cup your pussy, you let out a groan of pleasure. “Should we go in the shower?”

“The shower can wait,” Seungcheol states, “and these panties have to come off.”

“You got it, daddy.” You hook your fingers in the waistband, pushing them down so his eager fingers can touch you directly. The contact has you shivering, and he begins to circle your clit. 

“How did I ever get so lucky with you?” he asks, teasing you while he grinds against your ass.

“I ask myself the same question every day,” you confess, whimpering when one of his large fingers slips into your core. 

“I think I’m the lucky one,” Seungcheol tells you, sucking on the sweet spot on your throat that always makes your entire body react. 

“Agree to disagree,” you whisper, consumed by the feeling of his fingers as he adds a second one, working you open. 

“It’s torture spending a whole day without being able to touch you,” your husband confesses, as he applies pressure to your clit with his palm.

You know exactly how he feels, and although you’re leaning into his touch, allowing him to be the one exploring your form, you know your patience will run dry soon. You need his cock, more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

It’s tantalizing, having his large bulge rubbing against your ass while he finger fucks you closer and closer to a release that’s always much too easy for him to earn. 

You turn your head to the side, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his lips to your own. 

After all these years, Seungcheol knows your body inside and out. There are no words that need to be spoken as he gets you closer and closer to your high, only whimpered moans and groans of pleasure as you remain lip-locked.

Your first orgasm overtakes you, and you gasp into the kiss, wiggling your hips for more stimulation while he helps you through it. His free hand is on your waist, and he aids in your motions, which only adds to your pleasure.

“Cheol-” you whisper.

“I know, darling, I know,” he presses his forehead to yours, finishing you off before removing his hand from between your legs. He quickly sucks your juices off his digits before working on your bra, which falls off to join your clothes on the floor.

You turn in his embrace, palms flat to his chest so you can push him back until his bum hits the edge of the sink. “I wanna suck you off,” you tell him, feeling confident and as needy as ever.

“Fuck, I love it when you use that sweet, pretty mouth of yours to say the dirtiest things,” Seungcheol groans, large hands moving down to work on his belt while you sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

“You had a long day,” you tell him, knowing every day is long for the successful businessman, “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” he smiles, pushing his pants down so his cock can be released. 

Wasting no time, you wrap your hand around the base, taking one last look up at him to muse, “Well, I want to make you feel great,” before your mouth finds his large cock. 

The sounds he makes during sex have always been a huge turn-on for you, and the groans he lets out as you suckle on the head of his cock are like angels singing. You close your eyes, leaning into the act of pleasuring the man you love most in the world. 

His gentle hand finds your head, and he helps you blow him, taking more of him into your mouth while your hand pumps the base.

“You’re so good,” he whispers. “So fucking good for me.” 

You groan at the praise, and it makes his hips twitch, cock slipping into the back of your throat.

When you’d first been together, you hadn’t been used to the sensation, but after all this time together, you’ve become accustomed to it. In fact, you even kind of enjoy it when he throat-fuckes you, in some odd masochistic kind of way.

He’s slow with it, and you know he’s watching you carefully for any signs that he should let up on you. With you focused on your breathing and relaxing your throat, he never has to actually pull away. You listen to his sounds of pleasure grow, his grip tightening in your hair. 

“Fuck,” he groans, gently pulling you off his cock. “I need you.” 

He helps you to your feet and in one motion, he lifts you up and sets you on the sink, slotting between your legs. Your hands find his strong shoulders while he guides his cock to your pussy. His lip is caught between his teeth in concentration, and your heart swells with love for your husband.

The head of his cock slips into you and you both groan. 

“You’re wound up, darling,” he muses as he sinks a few more inches into you, test thrusting so your wet juices can cover his length and make it easier for you both. “Are you sure you don’t need some more of my fingers?”

“No,” you hold his strong shoulders tighter, “I just need you.”

“Yeah?” he leans in, pressing his lips to yours while his hands find your hips, one slipping to gently cup the small of your back. “Are you still my needy princess?”

It had been the first true pet name that stuck when you’d started dating, and even after all these years, it still makes a tingle run up your spine.

“Yes, Cheol, you feel so good-”

His thrusts have his cock sinking fully inside of you now, and you can’t help the way your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your body is alight with pleasure, and you truly can't help the sounds that are escaping past your lips.

You try your best to be quiet with Cheol most nights, but your kids are asleep. On top of that,  there’s a soundproof bedroom door, a bathroom door and a shower running to muffle your noises, so you figure now is as good a time as any to let loose a little.

“God, I love it when you get loud for me,” Seungcheol groans, leaning forward to pepper your throat in kisses while you lace your fingers through his soft hair. 

Each thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, and you can feel tension building in your abdomen, a sign of another orgasm on its way.

“You look so perfect like this,” your husband muses. Suddenly, he’s pulling away from you. “I want you to see.” 

You moan in annoyance as he pulls out of you, dragging you off the countertop so he can turn you around, facing the steamed mirror. You bend over the sink, letting out a whine when he slips inside of you again, leaning forward with his chest pressed to your back while he wipes a hand along the reflective surface. 

You can see yourself now, and you look completely fucked out. 

Cheol grins behind you, and you love how the reflection showcases how much larger than you he is. With your smaller form in front of him, his shoulders are visible on either side of your own, and his height makes your pussy clench around him.

“Told you it was sexy,” Seungcheol muses, leaning forward again to press his lips to your shoulder. “I want you to watch as I make you cum.”

You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to keep your eyes open, but you nod all the same, eager to please him as he begins to fuck you again. Each thrust has your hips pressing to the marble sink top, and it hurts a little, but the pain is pleasure.

You groan, panting as you watch Seungcheol fuck you from behind through the mirror.

He truly is a vision. each slap of his hips against your ass has your breasts bouncing too-

Steam is quickly covering the mirror again, and you reach out a shaky hand to wipe it away, intent on doing your best to follow through with his command.

“Cheol,” you whimper, his thrusts getting faster, harder- 

“That’s it,” he groans. “Let me hear you.” 

Your sounds are getting louder and louder as the tension in your stomach builds- and when Seungcheol licks two fingers, slipping his hand down your front to play with your clit, the noises of pleasure become uncontrollable. 

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, breath hot against your throat.

Everything feels so intense, the steam in the room adding to your heightened senses, and you nod quickly. You can’t find it in yourself to speak, you can only grab the sink as an anchor while your husband works you to the edge-

“I’m there too,” Seungcheol assures you. “Cum with me.” 

The sound that escapes you as your pussy clamps down on his cock is almost inhuman, and you struggle to keep your eyes open, gazing at your own fucked out expression through the mirror while Seungcheol rides out your highs.

His head is thrown back, throat all gorgeous and on display- 

You love him a stupid amount, and it only makes your core throb harder around his cock while he fills you up with his cum. 

It doesn’t help that his fingers are still on your clit, and you twitch from oversensitivity, letting out another loud cry. Seungcheol’s eyes open, as if he hadn’t even realized what he was still doing, too lost in the feeling of your throbbing cunt- he’s quick to pull his hand away, resting it on your hip as his thrusts begin to slow.

“Fuck,” he groans, “that was good.” 

His lips find your shoulder, and you both do your best to slow your heavy breathing. 

“Now I really need that shower,” you joke, earning a chuckle from the man still inside of you.

“Let's do it,” he says, giving you one last kiss before he pulls out of you.

He grabs your hand, helping you to the shower-

“Shit, did you hear that?” His head turns towards the closed door.

“I didn’t hear anything,” you tell him.

“No, listen, there it is again-” Seungcheol lets go of your hand, and he quickly grabs his robe, wrapping it around his naked body. He opens the bathroom door. “Shit, we woke up one of the kids. I’ll be right back.”

He exits the bathroom, shutting you inside behind him as he tightens his robe, rushing to the large soundproof bedroom doors. When he opens them, he finds Hana standing there, her stuffed teddy in her arms.

“Is Mama okay?” she asks, looking up at him like she’s on the verge of tears.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Seungcheol is quick to sink to his knees, wrapping his daughter in a hug. “You know she gets night terrors sometimes. It was just a bad dream, but I got a shower started for her and she should be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Hana asks, wiping at her eyes.

Seungcheol releases her, taking a look at her face and helping her clear the tear tracks with his thumb. “Yes, love, mama is fine. Here, let me get you back to bed.”

He picks up his daughter, carrying her back to her room. She settles in alright, and with a quick kiss to her forehead and a goodnight, Seungcheol leaves her be. He’s in a rush to get back to you, and as he enters your room and ensuite bathroom, shrugging off his robe, he finds you in the shower.

“I swear that kid has super hearing,” he muses softly, joining you under the water spray and pulling your body tight to his own.

“Maybe our soundproof bedroom door isn’t as soundproof as we thought,” you suggest. “Did you tell her it was night terrors again?”

“That seems to be the company line, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol can’t help but chuckle. He feels a little bad that the lie has gone on for two years already, but what else is he supposed to say to a kid who just heard her mother screaming?

“Hey, Night Terror,” you tug him closer, “you look lost in thought. What’s on your mind?”

Seungcheol sighs. “Just that maybe we need to invest in some good earplugs for the kids.”

You laugh, snuggling close to his chest while he wraps you in his arms. “Darling, I love the way you think.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! sometimes we all just need a short, sweet, established relationship sugar daddy/ A+ actual dad Cheol in our lives, you know?

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  “Fuck the house, I want you here. Now.” You don’t waste another second, grabbing his face and crashing your lips against his. His own hands find your hips, and within moments he’s pulling you onto his lap, growling into the kiss. It’s clear from the way that he’s touching you that he has no objections to fucking in the hot tub.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism, fucking in a hot tub, dry/wet humping, multiple reader orgasms, sensory stuff with the hot tub and heat, breast worship, fingering, cheol using her like a fleshlight, manhandling, some dirty talk, praise, breeding kink, finger sucking,. I petnames. (hers) princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 300

🌙 staring.Cheol x afab!Reader

bonus

“Uncle Woo!” Hana lights up as one of her favorite people enters the house, and Wonwoo returns her smile, dropping onto one knee to embrace her.

“Hey, Hana,” he grins.

“They told us we were sleeping over with you but I almost didn’t believe it!” Hana raves.

“I got the guest room all set up for you two,” Wonwoo says, standing up while holding your daughter to his chest. His gaze shifts to Daehyun. “Uncle Mingyu and Uncle Vernon are going to pop by for a bit too, they’ve been missing watching soccer with you. I’ve got the game from earlier recorded, you could have some boys' time while I play princesses with Hana.”

God. You love Wonwoo. He’s the best uncle you could have asked for concerning your kids. It’s clear Seungcheol thinks the same, his grip tightening around you while his smile widens. You all watch Hana joyfully rant about playing princesses, and Daehyun is even smiling at the thought of spending time with his favorite uncles.

“Do you two have any special plans for tonight?” Wonwoo asks when there’s a lull in the conversation. 

It’s your anniversary tonight, and you definitely have special plans, but none you can discuss in front of the kids.

“Mostly just taking her out for dinner,” Seungcheol says, which is only half a lie as he turns to gaze at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Nothing too extreme,” you agree, patting his chest. 

Wonwoo gives you a look that tells you he sees through your bluff, but your kids are none the wiser, and - as it is with your ‘night terrors’ - at the end of the day, a few white lies to protect their innocence doesn’t hurt anybody.

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[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow Azriel x Reader

a/n: quick little idea/drabble i had (that could honestly get turned into another series) idk if this has been done before, if it has let me know please, I'll probably delete this. I hope you enjoy :)) <333

synopsis: azriel takes you for granted

Warnings: angst

pt.2

He thought it was poetic, the way the shadows disappeared around Mor. She brightened up his life, literally.  

Never did he think he’d find someone else capable of doing such a thing. Until he met Elaine. 

The change was gradual, so gradual he hadn’t even noticed. 

They stayed with him, at first, treating the once-human girl like any other person. But then she was turned fae, and Azriel’s visits with her began. With each visit, less, and less, shadows joined him. 

He was completely unaware, she stole his focus. 

He felt protective of her, like a precious flower he had to keep from wilting. That protectiveness slowly became something more, a yearning. Even more so when Cassian discovered he was mated to the eldest Acheron.

Though the night Elaine kissed him, everything changed.

They’d sat outside, in her garden, and even though the sky was already dark they’d stayed. Getting lost in conversation. She told him about things she cared about, and he listened. She asked him about himself, and he answered.

 At some point she ended up in front of him, gazing up at his lips. 

She looked so beautiful, illuminated by the stars, surrounded by her lovely garden. A sight he felt lucky to witness. 

When she leaned forward he couldn’t stop himself. He met her halfway, so softly, so gently. But as soon as his lips touched hers, all those feelings for her died. He felt nothing.

The switch in emotions almost gave him whiplash. It was dizzying. 

Underwhelming didn’t feel like the best word for it, but it was the only thing he could come up with. Nothing was exciting about the kiss, nothing revolutionary. It wasn’t like it felt wrong, but it didn’t feel right either. 

Disappointment was what Azriel felt. A little part of him was hoping that maybe the Acheron sister would be his mate. 

It seemed fitting, right? Three brothers, three sisters. But now that her lips were against his, he knew it wasn’t right.  

The spymaster pulls back, taking a step away. Looking at the beautiful woman. Any feelings beyond protectiveness had vanished from his body. Not even a tickle of butterflies when she smiled at him, so obviously delighted with the kiss they shared.

It wasn’t her fault, any male would be lucky to have Elaine. But it was clear to him, that male couldn’t be him.

“It’s getting late, we should head in.” Her face drops at his words, he doesn’t even look at her as he begins leading her inside and back to her room.  

He should say more, apologize, and tell her how he feels so she at least has a reason. Not just silence. But his brain was still reeling from the drastic change in emotions—or lack thereof. No words leave his mouth.

He walks Elaine up to her room. Bidding her a short goodnight before leaving the frowning woman to her own devices.

He kicked himself for hurting her, for allowing it to get that far. Elaine was just so tempting, and he was so hopeful. He kicked himself for that too. 

Of course he wouldn’t have a mate. 

He couldn't even give the poor woman an apology.

It wasn’t until he made it to his room, all the way up in the House of Wind, that he realized no shadows were with him. Not even a whisper reached his ears.  

They’d been with him as long as he could remember, and now they were just gone. 

He couldn’t place the feeling they left in their absence. But he knew he didn’t like it. 

*****

You knew it was unfair of you to be jealous. He didn’t know how deep your devotion ran.  He didn’t see life the way you had, you didn’t even think he saw you as anything other than a servant. 

It wasn’t unfair of you to feel sad about that. 

You’re nothing but shadows to him. When he’s always been everything to you. From the moment he first called to you, when you were barely a flicker of darkness.

But he would never see that. 

Azriel is sound asleep when you slip through the cracks of his door and into his room. 

He hadn’t even called to you. Did he even care you were gone? 

You find yourself taking form, a form of something he could relate to. A beautiful woman, someone like Elaine, or Mor. But you knew you looked nothing like them. Your darkness couldn't captivate beauty like that. Bold and enchanting, like the Morrigan. Pure and innocent, like Miss Elaine.

A sigh leaves your mouth as you curl up in your designated corner, looking at the hands that felt alien to you. Even if you showed him this form, saw him face to face, would he see you any differently?

You doubt it. You’d always be shadows to him.

You were so busy wallowing to yourself in the corner you didn’t see the shadowsinger stir at your sigh. Didn’t see him blink awake, or sit up and look around. 

But you felt it when his eyes settled on you for what felt like the first time. Heard the gasp that left his mouth. 

Your heart stops, frozen in fear for half a second, before it starts again, and you collapse into clouds of darkness.

*****

It was the middle of the night when Azriel woke Rhys up, shouting at him from outside his mental barriers. The worry in his voice was what had the High Lord jumping out of his mate's arms, waking Cassian, and heading to the abode carved into the top of the mountain. 

Azriel paces around the office room, running a hand through his hair. If he wasn’t so stressed he would’ve noticed that his shadows don’t try to comfort him like usual.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asks as he and Cassian walk into the room. Both are in different states of undress with looks of concern on each of their faces.

Cassian immediately notes Azriel’s distressed state, a rare sight considering the spymaster had long ago mastered staying calm and stoic in the face of trouble.

Cassian almost doesn't want to know what has the male so bothered.

“There was something in my room.” 

“What?!” The reactions are simultaneous. Any sign of sleep was immediately gone from both of their faces.

“I think it was a woman… I don’t know I didn’t get a good enough look. It disappeared right after I woke up.”  His fingers grip his hair. Heart still beating fast from the interaction. No one has ever snuck up on him like that. 

He's usually the one doing the sneaking.

His shadows, which had returned sometime after he’d fallen asleep, hadn’t even noticed the stranger, if they had they certainly didn’t warn him. He tries not to feel the nerves that fact struck in him.

“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?” Cassian asks.

“Exactly what it sounds like, Cass. One second it was sitting in the corner of my room, the next it was gone.” Which made absolutely no sense, the wards surrounding House of Wind forbid winnowing of any kind. 

This was obviously a serious issue, the wards could either be faulty or someone could have found a way around them. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a vivid dream?” Cassian asks, just trying to come with any better explanation.

“Was your encounter with Bryaxis just a vivid dream?” Azriel snaps. There was no way he imagined it. No way.

Rhys diffuses, stepping in with hands raised in surrender. Silently telling Azriel that they were on his side. “What did it look like when it disappeared? Did it look like it was winnowing?” 

The spymaster thinks about it. No. No, it didn’t. 

It was like its body blended with the darkness. Became the darkness. Almost like… Azriel’s eyes widen.

A shadow. 

“What? What is it, Az?” Rhys asks, probably noticing the revelation he was having from the look on his face. 

The shadowsinger's face becomes neutral, as calm as a person with his features was capable of looking. He shakes his head. “Maybe it was nothing. Sorry for waking you guys up. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Then he left without another word.

Rhys and Cassian share a look. A mix of bewilderment, concern, and exhaustion filled their features.

Azriel waits till he reaches his room to say anything, making sure to close the door behind him before a single word can leave his mouth. “Are you jealous? Is that it? Is that why you always leave around Elaine and Mor? Why you thought it would be fun to scare me and my family? Because I don't give you enough attention?” 

His shadows scatter, detaching from his body, hiding under his bed and in the darker nooks of his room. 

“Don’t hide now. I know it was you, that’s why you didn’t warn me.” He gazes into the dark corners of his room, glaring. How could they keep something like this from him? Hide the fact that they could take form? “Show yourself.”

There was an eerie pause, Azriel’s heart began beating faster. Then the fae lights started to flicker.

With each flash more and more shadows gathered before him. Building on each other. The lights went out completely.

When he turned them back on you stood before him.

The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

Pure darkness rose from your body, looking like black smoke. It encapsulates you, different from the way it encapsulates him. The darkness wasn't an extension of your body, it was a part of you, was you, moved with you like it was just another limb.

“My intention was not to scare.” You spoke in a whisper he’d heard many times. A whisper that was most loyal to him. That fulfilled his every beck and call.

Azriel was at a loss for words. You were stunning, a word he'd not known the true meaning of until he laid eyes on you.

“For years, centuries, I’ve followed you. I chose you as my singer. I answered your call.” Tears fill your eyes, but when they fall they dissipate into smoke. Blowing away with a wave of your hand. “I have shown you nothing but loyalty, and care. I’ve sat back while watching you love others and I’ve made peace with it, I’ve accepted our differences.” You suck in a deep breath and steady yourself. “But when I leave, you don’t care, don't even notice.” Your lips tremble, voice breaking as you ask him a question he couldn’t even think to answer. “After everything I’ve done, how can I mean so little to you?” 

Azriel’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He has so much to say but his vocal cords are tied. He did care, though it was clear he hadn’t shown it enough. He found himself thinking about all the little times the shadows had been there for him, comforting him, caring for him. And now he could put a face to those moments, it wasn’t just shadows, it was you that’d been there for him over the years.  

“So yes, I was sad and mad, and maybe a little jealous... But I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just- I don’t know! Imagining? Yearning for a life I can’t have?” 

 The fae lights began blinking again making his heart jump with every flicker. He doesn't want you to disappear yet. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. 

“You don’t have to say anything, I don’t want an apology.” You lift a shadowy hand, wiping your face and steeling yourself. “Don’t fret, shadowsinger, I’m still your faithful servant. I couldn’t refuse your calls even if I wanted to. And I’m okay with that, it’s what I chose. Just don’t expect me to be there for you in moments where you can't even acknowledge my existence.” 

The lights flicker again and you're gone. 

Leaving Azriel to wonder if he’s lost you. Although, he never really had you in the first place.

next->

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 11]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

everything in its place

cw: anxiety attack(s)

wc: 4k

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.” 

Joseph stands at the center of the living room in plaid pajamas, an airplane themed blanket tossed over his shoulders, and a pout on his face. A bright red stains the waterline of his eyes as he rubs at them as if he can will his tiredness away. Hide it beneath the blanket he pulls tighter around him. Smother it until it vanishes, or is small enough to at least hide it from his mother. 

“I know you’re excited, big guy, but you gotta. Santa’s comin’ tonight, ‘member?” Beth coos. She’s kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders as if afraid he’ll lose balance and fall at any moment. The poor thing is dead on his feet, swaying as the silent lullaby of sleep beckons him to give in. “He can’t do his job if you’re awake, now can he? Besides, the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner tomorrow will come.” 

Just as Joseph begins to yawn, Tommy swoops in behind him, arms wrapping around his small frame in a bear hug. He’s instantly swaddled, blanket pulled tight around him as if he were a mummy, leaving him no room to fight. Soporific giggles escape the boy’s chest as his father lifts him in the air, limp legs dangling and swaying as they begin to march off towards the back of the house. 

“C’mon,” he urges, playfully grunting as if the child’s weight is too heavy for him. “I’ll tuck ya in nice and tight. Gotta build up your energy for tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Joseph yawns back just as his mother joins in behind them. 

Everything is warm. Viridity shrouds your eyes with rose tinted glasses and the glow of the Christmas tree diffuses like little halos. You are elated — happily content being shoved against Simon’s side, legs curled underneath yourself on the couch, head resting against his shoulder. Something sordid still lurks there between the fibers of your muscles; the sinews that hold you together. A pestilential rot that refuses to wash clean, but for the moment at least, it’s nothing but a gentle vibration. A meaningless hum of your bones that doesn’t quite reach your brain. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” Simon asks. He doesn’t move — stays politely still as you blink the bleariness from your eyes. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a laugh. You lift your head from his shoulder, and the absence of him feels wrong. When you turn to look at him, you find Simon already staring at you. 

“Been a long day,” he agrees. Long legs stretch out in the empty space in front of him before he scoots away from you, standing. “C’mon, let’s get you settled. I’ll show you the room.” 

A weightlessness lifts you off the couch as you trudge after Simon, following in line behind him. Quiet giggles bleed through one of the doors you pass in the hallway, and you can’t help but chuckle as Joseph, once again, declares his excitement for tomorrow. His joy emanates from the door — that room is too small to hold back the cheer of a young soul. 

Simon leads you to the end of the hallway toward the very back of the house. A room sits tucked on the left side of the hall, just across from the bathroom, where a lamp illuminates a queen sized bed with argentine sheets. Barren walls close the room in, but you find that if you squint hard enough you can see old marks. Tiny holes from long gone tacks, perhaps used to hold up posters. It’s painted over; hardly even visible. A slight dent makes its home next to the door where the doorknob knocks against it. 

“Used to be my bedroom,” Simon informs, shoulder leaning against the doorway as you step in. “Well, mine ‘n Tommy’s, anyway.” 

Your thoughts are flooded as you picture Simon as a child. Small frame, smooth skin — or maybe he was always large. A heavy, broad boy who gave his parents trouble as he ran around the house causing mayhem. An imagined giggle echoes in your mind, a shrill squeal of unadulterated joy. You wonder how often the two of them played together here, the secrets they would whisper to one another at night, or the dreams they had. 

You’re only brought back into your body when you notice that his bag is sitting next to yours at the foot of the bed. 

A blink clears your vision, and it’s still there. Two bags. A single bed. The steady thudding of your heart jumps into your throat where it makes its new home. It’s impossible to swallow, to force it into submission, back into the cage where it belongs. Stiff joints refuse to work with you as you turn to face Simon. He looks around the room wistfully, yet with a tinge of something darker. Something haunted. 

“Are… are you and I sharing this room?” you ask timidly. 

He nods. “Mum’s got her bedroom upstairs, Tommy ‘n them got the old office, so we get the guest room.” He pauses, eyes scrutinizing your face before he pushes away from the door, heavy feet causing the floor beneath him to creak. “That alright?” 

Choking on your words, you stutter through a sheepish smile, though you’re not sure it’s enough to cover how mortified you are. Molten blood suffocates your veins, and you feel it coagulate and clot. Really, it shouldn’t mean anything; sharing a bed with someone. You and Row have shared beds plenty of times together with one another and it’s never meant a thing. 

Does it only feel terrifying because you want it to mean something? 

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. I just- I’ve never- uhm.” All you can do is spew nonsense. It worsens the heat building in your face, bleeding through your skin, antagonizing the tips of your ears — you wish you would just shut up but you always have to explain yourself in some way. 

“Hey,” he says, raising a hand to stop you. “If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine. Can always sleep on the floor. Or out in the livin’ room if you don’t want me here at all.” 

For a moment, your brain entertains the idea of him in both scenarios. A hardwood floor is hardly a proper surface to sleep on, and the thought of him shoving his large frame onto Mrs. Riley’s small loveseat nearly makes you cringe. 

“What? No, I can’t do that to you. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor in your own home. Or, at least your family’s home,” you retort earnestly. “I can take the couch.”

“Not happenin’ sweetheart,” Simon says, small smirk pulling at his lips. “Really think I’m lettin’ you sleep anywhere but a proper bed? If you’re comfortable with it, we’ll both take the bed, and if not, then I’ll take the floor, or you can kick me to the livin’ room. Those are your three options.” 

“But-”

“No. No nuances here.” It isn’t until his hand brushes against your arm that you realize just how close he is to you. His attention drifts, fingers picking at a piece of fuzz on your clothes before flicking it somewhere to be forgotten on the ground. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ve slept on worse before. And you’ll only hurt my feelings a little bit,” he teases. 

While your body freezes, your mind is nothing but a whirlwind of thought. Torturous, you feel trapped; unable to speak your mind or your thoughts. How do you tell him that you don’t think you can sleep next to him not because you’re uncomfortable, but because you’ll crumble at his touch? Fade into nothing but soot and ash that would blow away at the mere huff of his mirth? You’d lay next to him, and like Icarus, you’d melt before you even get to brush against his warmth. 

And still — you refuse to let him sleep on the floor. 

“No. No, it’s fine, the bed is good,” you say with a nod. 

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Certain?” he pushes. 

“Certain,” you repeat. 

He stares at you for a moment too long and you feel your bones turn to jello. He’s giving you an out; the time to change your mind. Gelatin muscles and rubber tendons — you’d collapse if it weren’t for the panic constricting around your body. You swallow it down, willing it away just long enough to convince him you’ll be fine. 

“Alright,” he says as he takes a step back. He glances at your bags, still sitting neatly next to one another, before nodding. “I’ll step out. Let you change. Gotta grab presents out of the car anyway, so take your time.” 

After confirming the plans, Simon begins to back out of the room. Hand on the door, he begins to shut himself out, though he quickly pauses in order to point at the bed. “I get the side closest to the door, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod. 

You aren’t able to breathe properly until the door latches shut behind him, and your knees nearly give out. Stumbling back, you collapse onto the springy mattress and throw your face in your hands in an attempt to muffle your groan. How anyone can stand to be around you when you’re so graceless is beyond you. Your mother always told you that you would outgrow this awkwardness one day. Turns out, you’re just as small as you’ve always been — you haven’t outgrown a single thing. 

The only thing that calms your thoughts is a series of gentle, controlled respires. Anxiety sizzles then fizzles out, leaving your nerves scorched, but not completely useless. You rise. Dirty clothes shucked off and fresh pajamas holding you close. You stare at the bed, and it stares right back at you, just as confused. How the hell are you going to have any room on that mattress with Simon next to you? 

A problem for later. 

Simon is in the hallway when you open the door. He stands, hands shoved into his pockets as he faces the wall, eyes blankly staring at picture frames. Dozens of them sit in asymmetrical lines, haphazardly shoved together. A collage that had suddenly grown too large to fit properly. If he notices you — which you’re sure he does — he doesn’t say anything as you cautiously approach him, eyeing the glinting glass. 

Some of the pictures are old — much older than either you or Simon. Black and white film displaying young, happily married couples. They grow and morph. Love slowly decaying into contentment. There’s undersaturated photos with brutal lens flare burning the image, digital pictures with crisp quality. The younger the film becomes, the older the couple gets. The more their smiles fade. 

Swallowing, you stare at the man. There’s something familiar about him with his dark eyes and tight lips, but that recognition fades as he gets older. He becomes skinnier. Wasting until his flesh pulls at his bones like a skeleton with sunken eyes, gaunt face and sallow skin. His stomach distends, dark eyes dull with a benevolent contempt for anything within his gaze. He vanishes from the pictures eventually; replaced by kinder faces. 

“Who’s that?” you ask, curious finger pointing to the wasting man. 

Simon is silent for a moment before he responds. “My father.” 

“Oh,” you chirp meekly. A part of you had already guessed. You were curious as to the absence of such a presence at a family gathering, why only his mother is here, but you of all people already know how fickle family can be. 

“He’s dead,” he says, answering the question burning on your tongue. 

You swallow. “I’m… I’m sorry.” 

Huffing, Simon shakes his head. His weight shifts but his eyes stay glued to the pictures. It takes a moment to loosen up his jaw enough to respond. “I’m not. Glad he’s gone.” 

His reply catches you off guard. You don’t think you could ever be glad about either of your parents being dead. It’s… a strange thought to have. One you’re not sure you can hold against him. Never for a moment did you revel at either of their funerals. Really, you couldn’t stop crying. Then you think of sharp blades, gasping breaths, blood on linoleum — and you remember that some people’s parents don’t deserve to be mourned. 

“Well, that’s something we have in common at least. Dead dads, and all,” you attempt to humor. 

Much to your surprise, it works. A gentle titter reverberates in his throat as he finally tears his eyes away from that dead, wasted man and he looks at you. His eyes gleam in the pale living room light that bleeds into the hallway. A gentle burn that melts the darkness of his irises. He’d melt in the palm of your hands if you asked him to. 

Perhaps he already has. 

It isn’t long before you’re under freshly washed covers with your head on an unfamiliar pillow. The only thing that is familiar is Simon — the scent of him especially. That faint, smothered nicotine and fresh cotton. You wonder if he can feel the thud of your heart ring throughout the mattress. If its reverberations crawl up his spine like the heat of him crawls up yours. 

There is something strange about forcing yourself to be apart from him after being glued to his side for most of the evening. Like driving a wedge between two magnets. You feel his pull like you’re the earth and he’s the sun. Forever caught in the cosmic storm of one another, and yet something even stronger holds you back. 

It’s all consuming — this terrible obloquy that fluctuates in weight. One moment, it’s as light as a feather. A timid thing that can do no more harm than a single flake of snow. Other times, it’s a brutal storm. Unrelenting and frigid, tearing you apart. Perhaps it’s the bed. The connotation. The blood that has yet to soak the sheets and stain the mattress.

Your blood. Your tears. 

My offer is still on the table if you find yourself having trouble.

Your heart trips. Stumbles on itself, skipping a beat and forcing your blood to run cold. No matter what, you always carry a piece of him with you. He shoved it inside of you like a blade, and you’ve been too terrified to pull it out. Afraid to see how much blood would come out with it. The rot that’s festered inside of you because of him. You’re choking. Breath caught in your throat like a windpipe between slender fingers. Eyes bulging. Ears ringing. Soft lips on skin hiding sharp teeth waiting to tear you apart.

You sit up like you are able to run from the feeling. It doesn’t help. It’s still there. Writhing beneath your skin. Burrowing in your bones. It’s always there. Will always be there. Dormant and waiting to erupt. To tear open the tender flesh only a monster craves. You have not belonged to yourself in years, and you fear that you never had to begin with. 

You never will again.

“What’s wrong?” 

Simon’s gentle susurrus hardly reaches you over the sound of the blood gushing through your ears. Your head snaps to look at him in the darkness and you see the fuzzy image of his frame laid flat on his back, one hand behind his head. You swallow, your throat dry and sticking to itself, and you try not to tremble.

“Can’t sleep.” It’s blunt. Quick. If you speak any further, you’ll deteriorate. 

Cautious fingers brush against your arm and you try not to flinch at his presence. He pauses, then moves slower, torso curling as he lifts himself off the bed to further his reach. His arm snakes around your back, and then to your other arm before he carefully pulls you back down to earth. 

“C’mere,” he says before leaning you back with him. 

Anxiety quells into confusion as Simon situates you on your side, head resting on his chest. His arm stays around you, supporting your head as his hand lays politely on your waist. Ragdolling, you go along with him as his free hand grabs yours. His thumb gently prods at your fingers, prompting your fist to relax and unfurl before he places it flat on his chest above his heart. His breaths come heavy and deep, chest expanding beneath your palm, prompting your own diaphragm to do the same. Slow, deep breaths that calm your heart and your nerves. 

Your eyes grow heavy. Everything grows heavy. Soon the ringing in your ears becomes drowned out by Simon’s steady pulse beneath you. 

Morning arrives with a childish squeal and dull sunlight. 

You’re still in Simon’s arms, curled into his side, face buried into the scent of him. His hand rests on top of yours where he taps at the space between your knuckles. There’s a quiet knowingness in his touch. A hushed relation he attempts to etch into your skin. You do not know why, but you think he might be the only person in the entire world who might somewhat understand your pain. At least, he’s been the only one that doesn’t try to instantly smother it away. 

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers

Smiling against his side, you sigh. “Merry Christmas, Simon.” 

Joseph hardly waits for you and Simon to enter the living room, disheveled and groggy, before ripping into his presents. Even Beth and Tommy are half awake, curled up on the couch next to one another as they grin and coo over their son. Mrs. Riley, however, is on the edge of her seat the entire time, helping to collect shredded wrapping paper and crinkled bows. Somehow, she looks even more excited than her grandson.

The windows nearly shatter with the shriek he lets out at Simon’s gift. That large box concealing the model plane he’s been begging his parents for sits in his wide stretched arms. Beaming blue eyes lock onto Simon as his feet happily stomp against the ground as he thanks his uncle for the present. You catch the look of relief Beth gives him out of the corner of your eye. 

As the morning speeds by, the Christmas tree looks more and more naked with each gift that’s opened. Barren and empty. It dwindles down to nothing but shiny ornaments and crooked tinsel, yet it still bears fruit. 

Simon retrieves one small, lone gift hidden within the folds of the tree skirt. 

“Here,” he prompts, holding it out for you. 

Blinking, you look back and forth between him and the object, fingers too timid to reach for it. Your name is written on a small tag in small, curt handwriting. “For me?”

“Go on. Open it.” 

Guilt clouds your mind as you gingerly take the box into your hands. It’s light. Hardly any bigger than the size of your palm, yet the bow on it is nearly twice as large. Expertly knotted, perfect loops, and long, curling ribbons. You purse your lips into a line as Simon leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, shoulder knocking against yours in the process. 

“But… You shouldn’t have. I… I didn’t get you anything,” you murmur. 

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Came all the way ‘ere with me. That’s more than enough.” 

At this point, you know better than to try to argue with Simon, so you carefully tug on the bow. Soft silk becomes undone and flutters into your lap as you pop the top off of the box to reveal a fluffy white mess. A miniature version of an arctic fox sits upon red velvet. It’s cartoonish, with an extra pointy nose and round, azure eyes, and is more akin to a stuffed animal with soft, faux fur. A short chain protrudes from the top of its head with a small clasp on the end — a keychain. 

“Mrs. Price helped me pick it out,” Simon concedes. 

“I love it,” you say, nearly choking on the word. You continue to stare at it for a moment, fingers brushing over its fluff before playfully poking its plastic nose. When you look back up at Simon, you find him already looking at you. Always looking at you. “Thank you.” 

A smile quietly pulls at the corner of his lip, scar tissue stretching and folding in on itself. “Glad you like it, sweetheart.” 

The butterflies that sentence plagues you with lingers all the way until dinner, and even then they still persist. They churn, twisting up a tempest within your stomach until your nerves jitter and jolt. You’re nearly knocking over your glass at the table as you try to conceal that new blaze inside of your chest. Douse out the flames with a simple sip of water. You wonder if the glowing embers left inside of you illuminate the soot covered bones of your ribs. Certainly they have to do something to get rid of that insatiable darkness. 

Mrs. Riley has prepared a lovely meal, largely in thanks to Joseph, of course, who had the very important task of helping his mother whisk the gravy for the mash. It’s the first homestyle meal you’ve had in ages. Honey coated ham, Yorkshire pudding, roast beef — you don’t think you’ve eaten so much in so long. When you first start, you can’t see the bottom of your plate, and when you finish, it’s practically sparkling clean. Might as well skip the wash and put it back in the cupboard. 

When dinner and dessert are finished, everyone helps clean up — like a well oiled machine, as Tommy says, to which Joseph quotes back clumsily as if it’s a mantra he hears often. There’s time for one quick Christmas movie before yawns begin to infect everyone and the hands of the old grandfather clock in the living room strikes ten. Dainty chimes echo quietly throughout the house. Soft and careful, as if not to wake anyone, further proving that you should’ve been asleep long ago. 

Everyone begins to migrate to their rightful place after that. There’s Mrs. Riley, who shuffles up the stairs to her room. There’s Tommy and Joseph, who giggle in the old office room to one another as they talk about the airplane they’ll have to paint together when they get home. There’s Beth, who’s taking a well deserved break away from her two rambunctious boys as she washes herself in the shower. 

Then, there’s you and Simon. 

A hazy penumbra obscures your vision as you lay next to him. There was no question about it when you both crawled into bed; there would be no separation between the two of you tonight. You curl beneath covers with his arm wrapped around you, an ear pressed against his chest as you listen to the proof of his existence. He is the most tangible thing you’ve ever had hold you, and despite his ruggedness and scars, he is also one of the softest. Something that can embrace you without pins and needles nettling your skin. 

Chest expanding, you breathe him in. You want to bottle up his scent and carry it around with you. It’s vague. Natural. 

You hate cologne. 

“Thanks for comin’ with me,” Simon speaks up, breaking the fragile silence hanging in the air. 

“Of course.” You pause, chewing on the tip of your tongue as you try to get the second half of your response out. “Thank you. For bringing me here. I don’t think I’ve… you know. Just- Thank you. I’m glad I came.” 

It’s impossible to tell if you’re hearing things wrong, but you swear Simon’s heart beats faster. Thumps in his chest like a war drum attempting to play a love song. It’s flimsy. Unpracticed with novice rhythm. Still, it only grows stronger as his head lifts from his pillow, neck curling forward as a strong arm holds you tight. 

His lips press against the crown of your head, lingering just long enough for your own pulse to drown his out. 

“Me too, sweetheart.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

oooo sanemi request - idea - you're training to be a new haishra and are very very very very nice to everyone, queue tragic af backstory and you believe in kindness IDK ok, cruelty made sure you kept your heart soft, but when you are FIGHTING there is nothing but darkness what happens when that trance doesn't leave you for a while & to snap out of it only sanemi is enough?

It's the tiniest bit different from what you requested, but I hope you like it anyway! Also, thank you so much for your cover suggestions 🤍

Sanemi Shinazugawa pulling you out of your trance with his own methods

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: What a kind and tender soul you are, loved by everyone around you. Until you get into a fight. Until the only person who is able to pull you back to reality is the wind hashira coming to safe you.

Warnings: average sanemi language, fluff fluff fluff, some spelling errors since I wasn't able to finish proofreading

„Me telling him? Are you actually insane? You’re the one Kocho-san sent”

“But you came with me. You go tell him!”

“Ain’t no way!”

“Telling me what?”

Their blood freezes in their veins instantly. Over and over, the wind hashira made it all too clear that they aren’t allowed to let you alone. Never. Not on a mission, not when there’s a high risk of you losing yourself. Because once you’re gone, there’s only one person who’s able to pull you back into reality.

“Well…(y/n)-sama…She…”

They don’t even have to finish this sentence for Sanemi to know exactly what’s going on. Are you okay? Are you facing some strong demons at the moment? His heart overfills with rage and anxiety to the point where he can’t take it anymore.

“Didn’t I tell you fools every single fucking time to look out of her? Useless brats. Show me where she is”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

It takes all his inner strength to not slam them into a tree nearby. Those fucking jerks had one job. That’s why he always insists on coming with you, because what if you lose yourself again with no way out but him? What if he’s too far away to drag you into safety in time?

“Hurry the fuck up!”

“Please don’t worry about me all the time, Sanemi. I can’t stand the thought of you being distressed because of me.”

Yeah, to hell with your angelic voice and your kind eyes. Fuck your gorgeous appearance, your uniform that makes you look like an angel walking on earth. You, a true sweetheart who is loved by everyone without any exceptions. And him, who built a wall around his heart only you were able to overcome.

But when you fight against demons, that tender self of yours vanishes into thin air. The second death and fright surround you, you turn into a serial killer who doesn’t show any mercy. Especially towards demons, but when a human comes into your way…

Sanemi picks up his pace in an instant. He can’t allow something like that to happen, he can’t stand that look of deep sorrow written on your face the second you realized what you’ve done in your trance. He just has to make sure this fight ends on time, that he’s able to pull you back into reality like he always does.

He and only him. Not even Shinobu is able to reach your mind when you lose yourself. In fact, no one but Sanemi is. Why on earth him? Out of all people you could trust this much, you somehow chose him. Oh, he definitely doesn’t deserve any of the feelings you hold for him, he doesn’t deserve you even looking his way. After all, everyone sees nothing but a menace in him with even his little brother fearing him to the core.

“(y/n)…s-sama?”

His blood freezes in an instant. There you stand with your arm buried in the chest of the demon lying to your feet and your eyes gleaming bloody red. How long did you fight already? How long has this been going on without him knowing?

“Get away from here before she rips your heads off”, the bars behind him.

You don’t speak, furious orbs now fixated on Sanemi. In the split of a second you dash towards him, ready to slice his throat open with your bare fingernails. Just in time he manages to get a hold of your wrist and push you into the ground, his whole bodyweight now lying on top of you.

“(y/n)”, he mutters softly.

A violent scream escapes your lips, limbs desperately fighting to get away from him. Oh, how much Sanemi hates to see you in that state. Shinobu was never able to find out why you turned into this when facing danger. Despite your tender and warm personality, despite your remarkable sword skills and technique, you lose control over your own mind and body when the situation around you gets too heated.

None of that matters now. Sanemi grabs your body from behind and pulls you into his lap while placing gentle kisses on your neck.

“It’s fine, (y/n). Just come back to me. Those demon are gone, got it?”

The shell of your body still fights for freedom, still doesn’t accept to be held by him.

“Come back, (y/n). I’m here. Everything’s fine.”

Is that…Sanemi talking to you? Your vision is foggy, eyes roaming around what looks like a dark forest. Your whole body is covered in ice cold sweat, your heart hammers so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute.

It happened again.

“Sanemi”, you breathe his name into the night while allowing yourself to collapse against his chest.

You lost yourself again. Did you hurt someone? Why were you here? How-

“Don’t worry, you’re alright.”

“And the-“

“No one got hurt”, he reassures you in an instant.

“I…lost again”, you mumble defeated.

You’re able to control every single fiber in your body, can wield a sword so delicately that Ubayishiki-sama even chose you to join the circle of pillars. But still, you lose yourself when facing a heated fight.

“Don’t worry too much, nothing happened and I was home”, Sanemi mutters into your hair.

“Thank you for coming. And…for everything else. I’m sorry for making such a mess over and over. You must-”

“Nah, I don’t wanna hear you putting yourself down again, (y/n). You’re good, okay? I don’t mind looking after you at all, to be honest.”

You don’t know what came over you. Is it the anger, the frustration over your own disability? You can’t help but swing around, arms wrapped around Sanemi’s larger frame while you allow your head to rest against his steady heartbeat.

“It’s just so frustrating. From one second to the other, I lose the power over my own body. If it wasn’t for you, who know what I’d do to innocent people around. I’m a weapon, Sanemi. To even be considered a hashira-“

“Stop talking nonsense”, he interrupts you gently, his hand pulling your chin up to force you to look at him.

“You’re wiping the floor with our asses in training. Most of us hashira can’t stand a chance against you. You are pure and kind, loved by everyone. We don’t give a single shit about that happening from time to time. And like I said, I’m always here to pull you back into reality.”

“You’re my greatest treasure, Sanemi”, you mutter.

Tears immediately shoot in your eyes, take away that gorgeous sight in front of you. Truth is, you love Sanemi Shinazugawa with all your heart. Since he first barked at you, since you sat underneath a tree the whole night and talked about all the things both of you been through, since he put you out of your episode for the first time. Oh, how much you adore that man.

“Don’t talk nonsense, (y/n). I’m worse than everyone else.”

His heart stings violently when nothing but the truth leaves his mouth. He doesn’t deserve your praise, let alone your glossy orbs staring up at him. Fuck, he shouldn’t even put his arms around you like that. Not when you’re an angel while he’s a no one. Not when you could have anybody else, a man who deserves your kind words, to see your lovely figure every morning after waking up.

“I don’t care about others. You’re the one that I love, Sanemi. Because you make me feel good about myself, because you bring me back to reality when I can’t return on my own. You’re rough, you’re suborn and you can be kind of mean-“

“Only because some of these jerks deserve it”, he grumbles.

“But apart from that, you are a kind and loving man. I can’t help but search for you in a crowd of people, I am forced to ask myself every time what you’d do in my place. You’re constantly on my mind. Your words, your skills, your voice. Just…you. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Stop making fun of me…”

Fuck, he can feel his face heating up in an instant. This can’t be true, right? Why would a girl like you fall for someone like him? Maybe you’re still a little dizzy and can’t understand the meaning of your words, maybe-

“I’d never make fun of you.”

And then your lips meet his. So unexpectedly that his widen eyes stare at your soft features in utter disbelief, so innocently that he can’t help but wonder if he’s dreaming. You, kissing him?

“You’re gonna regret this when you’re clear again, (y/n)”, Sanemi mumbles against your lips.

“Look into my eyes. I am clear, Sanemi. In fact, I’ve never been clearer in my entire life. I love you.”

You kiss him. Over and over, your soft lips brush against yours while he can’t help but wrap his arms around you in a desperate attempt to keep you this close. His heart pounds so loud that you’re definitely able to her it, his fingertips get lost in your hair.

“I love you too, (y/n). Fuck, I love you so much”, he finally replies.

“I’m so lucky for having you.”

“You, lucky to have me? Hell, I’m the luckiest guy on earth”, Sanemi grumbles with his hand gently caressing your cheek.

This is real. Not a cruel trick his spooky brain plays on him, not one of the dreams that keep him up all night wanting more. No, your head really rests against his chest, you really have your arms wrapped around his body still, you really kissed him.

“No wonder it took you so long to come back, Shinazugawa. I didn’t know you were busy with (y/n).”

Sanemi’s heart drops to the floor, both of your head darting towards the direction of that painfully familiar voice in an instant.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, he barks at Obanai in distress.

“Everyone was worried about (y/n) so I came to check”, Obanai replies dryly.

“Oh, thank you so much for looking out for me! But don’t worry, I am fine!”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“GET LOST OR I’LL KILL YOU!”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[ameliathornromance]

“It’ll be fine.” You reassured him, holding your Orc Boyfriends hand. You gave it a comforting squeeze. “She doesn’t bite.”

“But she’s a little girl.” Your Orc answered. He’d stopped just before your front door. “Look at me,” your Orc Boyfriend let go of your hand and gestured to his figure. Tall, green and muscular, he pointed at the door. “Your child is going to go running for the hills once she sees me.”

"I've already told her you're an Orc." You tell him.

"Telling someone about an Orc and seeing an Orc are two different things, hun."

At that, you roll your eyes.

Your ex, had gone out to go and chop firewood and never returned. Since you lived very far away from the nearest village, it was rare you heard news. After your ex hadn’t returned the next morning, you went into the village, crying, pleading and begging for people to help look for him.

But unfortunately, no one had seen him. And two days turned into a week… which turned into three weeks… and then a month. Around the two month mark, you got a letter from your ex, saying that he had been having an affair with the milk maid and they had eloped.

Your daughter, who was only a toddler at the time, did not understand what it meant when you cried so much you gagged or when you randomly burst into tears when you saw newly weds passing by in a heavily decorated carriage.

The only thing that held you together, was your child. While you still wondered what you did wrong and conjured up daydreams of keeping your husband here, your daughter made those vanish in an instant. Just hearing even a small giggle, was more than enough to drown out those thoughts… for a little while at least.

Around your daughters sixth birthday, you had met your Orc. You had been in town, looking for cake ingredients when the Orc offered to help you carry your many bags. From that point onwards, the two of you were always in contact… And it became romantic.

Once you told him you had a daughter and told him of the betrayal from your ex, your Orc snorted. “What a pathetic man. You and your daughter are better off without him.” He had let a grin cross his face, “and now you have me. And I won’t leave you.”

When he told you that, you had stared at him, hardly daring to believe it. The internal doubt was blown away by his words, you had to hide your face from him as you wiped your nose and dried your eyes.

“Oh, hun I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he comforted, “c’mere.” You had spent the rest of your date in his arms.

Hearing his reassurance only solidified your resolution: Your daughter would have to meet your Orc Boyfriend.

But your Orc – who was usually so boastful and confident – was now reduced down to a bundle of nerves. It was sweet, how he braided and re-braided his hair over and over again, asking: “does this look alright?”

And now, as your Orc looked down at you, with your pleading eyes and sighed. He knew how important this was to you, your daughter was worth more than gold. “You’re sure she’s not going to be afraid of me?”

You gave a reassuring smile, “one hundred percent.”

Sucking in a deep breath, and exhaling, your Orc Boyfriend nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The two of you marched forward. As the two of you got closer, you heard a loud giggle come from inside the house.

Your smile only grew wider as you opened the front door and out running, came a flurry of (H/C) locks that headed straight for your Orc.

Your daughter skidded to a halt in front of your Orc and pointed, looking between you and your boyfriend. “Mama, you were right!” She grinned widely. “He’s is super tall!”

“Honey,” You kneeled down to her height, “c’mon, be polite.”

“Oh, right.” Your little girl covered her large grin and stepped back a few paces. She stuck her hand out to your Orc, “I’m (D/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

Your Orc looked between you and the tiny child, who still held her tiny hand out to him, waiting for him to shake it. After your encouraging smile, your Orc uncertainly took her hand in his own and shook it. “Um, it’s nice to meet you too. I’m (O/B).”

“Come inside! I wanna show you the drawing I did of the birds earlier!” Not letting your Orcs hand go, your daughter proceeded to drag him inside the house.

As you watched them pass the threshold, your Orc couldn’t help a smile of relief wash over his face.

“I told you you’d be fine.” You whispered to him as your daughter thundered up the stairs to go and get her drawings.

“Why are you telling me that? I wasn’t nervous at all.” your Orc bluffed. He laid back into your sofa, his old confident smile returning.

The day went smoothly after that, your daughter held your boyfriends undivided attention for hours as she explained the fictional drama between her stuffed animals, Mr Blake, the Shopkeep and Mother Goose.

“No!” Your Orc’s jaw dropped when your daughter announced that the Shopkeep had been giving Mother Goose chicken instead of ham like she asked.

By the end of the day, your daughter was practically falling asleep in your boyfriends arms, eyes flitting closed and snapping open whenever the two of you spoke.

Once you’d put her to bed, you found your Orc sitting on the sofa, grinning. You return his smile, confused. “What?”

“You get up everyday and handle that kid.” He said, not taking his eyes off you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, crashing next to him on the sofa, “she’s a handful, but I love her.” you yawned. “It is a lot to do on my own, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“She’s got me now too.” Your Orc Boyfriend snuggled closer to you. Heart swelling, you threw your arm across his torso and you let your eyes slide closed. And the two of you fell asleep, basking in the domestic bliss.

Patreon

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Yall don’t understand how obsessed I am with Danny messing with the Justice League. Like just pranking them mad wild. Or “haunting” them.

Maybe it starts as a mistake. Someone was getting close to him and he just vanished. Maybe he was walking around one of their cities cause he wanted to “see how a real hero does it” but tried to stay out of the way.

Hes following Superman and doesn’t realise hes been had. Superman keeps seeing this odd child on the edge of his vision. It’s only weird because of how quickly he is traveling. He should be followed like this. So he tests it out and flys off to somewhere far off, but secluded. Edge of some farm land would work. Trying to not give it away he doesn’t make a show of looking for the boy. He then spots him. His eyes slightly glowing as he stands in the edge of the woods. Clark focused on the boy and hears slight breaths but nothing else. Which he should have realised sooner was wrong.

He returned to the team to report this odd being following him. To also warn everyone else to be on look out just incase.

Weirdly enough it was the Flash who noticed him next. Even weirder was that he could never get close. Even with his speed which was alarming.

Cyborg started seeing the kid too. He tried using cameras to get a better look at him but nothing ever showed up. Always missing was the boy from the video. Sometimes the whole video would get distort.

Wonder Woman probably got the closest as she used a fight to get “thrown” in his direction. She got close enough to see worry about her. He seemed so concerned and like he was going to step in until he met her gaze. A whole new kind of fear crossed his features. Then he was gone.

Everyone of the main team (and even some not) reporting in of spotting the kid except for Batman. And he looked. He tried everything to see if he was being followed like the rest but nothing. He read their reports on their encounters and tried to emulate it but never saw the boy. Maybe it was all a big prank being pulled on him? He couldn’t rule it out. Still he kept up constant watch.

Then one night he was out and got into a fight. Distracted by looking for the kid he got messy. Or maybe the criminals got desperate but he didn’t notice the rocket launcher being targeted on him in time and it fired. Only then did he notice it. No time to fully get out of the way he braced for the worst. When all of a sudden a body slammed into him shoving him out of the way of the blast. They rolled onto the ground. Bruce quickly recovered and looked for his saviour. On the ground, blown slightly to his left by the explosion was a black haired teen in a white t-shirt. Before he could move the boy groaned and looked right at Bruce. The haunting blue eyes meeting his even with the mask in the way the boy knew just where to look. He was about to speak when the boys eyes went wide with fear and then nothing. The boy just vanished into this air. Bruce didn’t have much time to be stunned by this as the thugs before started to cheer, thinking they had finished off the Bat. So he went to make quick work of them before any could get away. Well now he knows hes being followed too

Danny just freaking out about Batman seeing his face. Turns out he never followed Batman unless fully invisible. All he wanted was to see how “real” heros did it. And it had been helping him with his fighting. To see how the pros are. He was always worried the “worlds greatest detective” would figure him out though so he stayed hidden. Also maybe hes a bit of a fan. I made Wonder Woman get the closest cause shes his fav probably.

[girlbeyondthegrave]

The Parallels Between Astrid and Lydia and What They Say About Beetlebabes: A Metaphorical Interpretation of the Final Dream Sequence

I previously made a post where I wrote about my interpretation of the dream sequence being inspired by Lydia and Astrid’s literal futures following the film, but after reading @theblacklistforever97 ‘s metaphorical interpretation of the final scene, I wanted to explore what messages Burton may be trying to convey. I think that we can find a strong message when we look at how Astrid’s time in the film parallels her mother’s experiences as a teenager.

The main takeaway from the linked post is that dream sequences often reveal the inner desires of characters, but I think that the parallels between mother and daughter can, too.

As teenagers, both characters are strange and unusual in their own rights. Lydia is iconically goth and melancholy with fascinations with death and photography, while Astrid reads classic Russian literature and wears edgy clothing. Both are shown to not fit in with people that are considered “normal.” Yet they want to feel embraced and have someone truly see them.

Lydia’s family writes her off as weird, and when she starts to bond with the Maitlands, they vanish for three months. She feels used after the incident at dinner.

As soon as Beetlejuice looks at her, he’s interested. His full attention is on her. He says she looked like someone he can relate to, and when Lydia basically says she wants to die, he’s genuinely taken aback. He doesn’t have to offer to talk about that with her, but he does. Beetlejuice genuinely values Lydia’s life, and he wants her to live it. There’s also no mention of marriage during that first encounter. He just wants Lydia to let him out—no mentions of being out permanently either.

But in their next encounter, Beetlejuice wants out for good, and he chooses Lydia to be tethered to in marriage. He’s downright gleeful when she talks to him again. It’s entirely possible that Beetlejuice only wanted to be out permanently after he met Lydia, and he’s enamored with her. We know now that he’s gone 600 years without romantic love, and that reframes his eagerness to marry her. He’s been carrying that ring around for hundreds of years, and he finally found someone he thinks is worthy of having it.

People could argue that Beetlejuice was using Lydia and had no real romantic interest in her, but after the sequel, there’s no denying that he has sincere feelings for Lydia. I detail a lot of his and Lydia’s moments in a separate post, but TLDR: Beetlejuice calls Lydia the love of his life and waits for her. He absolutely adores this woman, and he just wants to be with her.

Astrid’s relationship with Jeremy serves as a foil to Lydia and Beetlejuice’s. Jeremy feigns interest in Astrid to manipulate her into trusting him. He values her life only in the sense that he wants to take it for himself. He appeals to her desire for someone to understand her, but it’s not genuine. He lies about the incantation and uses Astrid’s desire for closure regarding her father to get what he wants. He had no intentions of being with Astrid; just using her for his own gain.

There’s only one man who behaves similarly to Jeremy in the film, and it’s not Beetlejuice—it’s Rory. While Jeremy wants to literally take control of Astrid’s life, Rory figuratively controls Lydia’s. He guilts her, he manipulates her, and Lydia has lost a lot of the spunk and fire she had as a teenager. Rory appeals to her emotions just like Jeremy does with Astrid so he can reach his own goals. He doesn’t believe in Lydia, doesn’t listen to her. It’s all an act to get to her money, just like Jeremy pretends to be the caring living boy to get Astrid to sign her life away.

If we look at the dream sequence metaphorically, the parallels between Astrid and Lydia make a solid case that Astrid is meant to reflect Lydia’s inner desires. Dream Astrid meets someone that matches her eccentric energy, who truly sees her, and they get to live happily ever after. Let’s also note that the boy is wearing a vampire costume, a monster that’s known for invoking fear, yet that’s the moment that captivates Dream Astrid. And even when a monstrous BabyJuice pops out of her, she smiles and accepts him as her own.

Beetlejuice sends a clear message here: if Lydia wants to feel fully seen and appreciated, she needs to find someone that matches her energy. He wants to be that someone, and he’s proven that his affections are far more genuine than Rory’s. He’s already accepted her, but she needs to accept him, too. He truly believes that if she can accept the connection they have, he will make her happy.

[munsons-maiden]

𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Here's a little oneshot for you, lovelies! I hope you enjoy 🖤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader (no physical descriptions, though)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Based on this request: could i request maybe eddie brings reader to a deal but wants her to stay in the van so she’s safe but the people he’s dealing to see her because she walked out to tell eddie something and it doesn’t go so well. and after the situation eddie and her argue but eddie’s upset and just what’s to protect her 🥺 but ofc it ends well🫡

- I hope you like it, dear!🖤

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | fights turning into love confessions, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst with a happy ending, attempted (sexual) assault

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

You can barely make out your surroundings, the little dirt path leading you deeper into the woods, in the darkness between the trees as you slowly draw closer – the moon and stars have vanished behind the clouds as if they’ve gone into hiding, and the taste of a summer storm already laces the stuffy air.

In all these years of being Eddie Munson’s friend, there’s been one simple rule when it comes to him meeting his customers for a drug deal:

Stay in the car.

The customers are harmless. It’s the cops I’m worried about, he tells you, expression stern, whenever you crack a joke about him being scared you could scare away a customer.

It’s tiny little Hawkins, and the deals gone wrong that sometimes make it into the TV news or newspaper headlines are over coke and heroin and all the hard stuff Eddie would never sell, not over something as harmless as weed or the occasional pill of ketamine.

Tonight has been no different.

It was supposed to be a quick deal on your way to the Carnival two towns over at Sycamore where you’re supposed to meet the rest of Hellfire.

Some new customer sent by Reefer Rick.

But the longer you’ve been sitting in Eddie’s van, in the dark, in the middle of the lonely road that cuts through the woods surrounding Hawkins…this nagging feeling started to grow in your chest. First into worry, then into outright panic when you’d watched the clock on the old van’s display tick, one minute turning into five, and five into ten.

What if something went wrong?

What if something horrible happened to him?

What if Eddie needs your help?

You wanted to tell him, tonight at the fair, beneath the see of glittering lights of the Ferris wheel. That you’re in love with him. That you’ve been, for a very long time. That even if he doesn’t feel the same, you need to say it out loud, how you first fell for all the tiny little pieces that make him Eddie and then wholly and utterly and completely.

When ten minutes bled into fifteen, and your mind had come up with the most horrid scenarios fueled by news coverage of drug deals breaking into violence, conjuring up gruesome images of Eddie bleeding out between the ferns and brambles covering the forest floor, blood soaking the moss, you couldn’t stay cooped up in the confines of his old van a second longer.

You broke Eddie’s one rule. You left the car and went looking for him.

As you’re now traipsing along the small dirt path cutting through the brambles and ferns, the fabric of your summer dress you’ve spent an entire weekend picking out at the mall just so Eddie might finally start seeing you as something else as his friend, sticking to your sweaty skin and thorns scratching at your legs, you realize that even if Eddie needs your help…how the fuck would you even be able to help him?

It’s not like you’re carrying a gun in the little bag you’re clutching at your side.

The sound of voices startles you out of your thoughts, and in the dark, your eyes lock on the two silhouettes in the little clearing ahead of you.

You recognize Eddie first – you’d recognize him everywhere.

He’s standing with his back to you. Even with the remaining distance between the two of you, the darkness of the woods, you can tell that his shoulders are tense.

His whole body is holding a kind of tension you’ve only ever seen on him once before, a few years ago, when his deadbeat father had shown up at the trailer park drunken and shouting curses into the wind before Eddie had dragged you into the safety Wayne’s trailer.

A twig snaps beneath your sneakers, and both Eddie and his customer whirl around to you.

And you realize you’ve made a huge mistake.

The guy in front of Eddie is no nervous classmate, not one of the chill stoner guys always hanging around beneath the bleachers. No friendly family dad or stressed housewife looking for a little relaxation or piece of rebellion.

The guy’s buzzcut does nothing to soften the harsh angles of his face, the lines around his mouth formed by the frown that seems to be engraved there.

There’s something menacing in his eyes as they lock on you.

Something evil and predatory.

The guy licks his lips, and his mouth curls into a lewd smirk, a twisted mirror to the abysmal panic in Eddie’s wide eyes as he stares at you.

You can read them like the pages of an open book.

What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay in the car!

The guy slaps a meaty hand on Eddie’s shoulder, hard enough to make Eddie sway a little on his feet with the impact. And contrary to what the jocks at Hawkins High believe, Eddie is strong.

“And at first I thought you’d brought the cops,” the guy laughs – but it’s not a friendly laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes, either. He’s got muscles. A lot of them, flexing beneath his skin as he lets his arm sink from Eddie’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t do that to your old friend though, would you? Instead, you brought me a present.”

There’s an eagle tattooed across the guy’s throat, wings spread wide. It’s fitting, this bird of prey marking him. You feel like a tiny little robin beneath his gaze.

Eddie’s eyes haven’t left you for a single second.

“I told you to stay in the car.” His voice is strained with barely suppressed fury and, above all else…panic.

“Nah, we’re good,” the guy grins, letting his eyes roam over you.

Making you wish you were wearing something other than a short little summer dress.

“Come on closer, little birdie,” he drawls, “Don’t be shy now.”

“Go back to the car,” Eddie says, louder, the vehemence of his tone flashing in his panicked eyes. His voice is trembling. “Now.”

“What, you don’t want to introduce us?” The man drawls. The threat in his own voice is as clear and tangible as the panic in Eddie’s umber eyes as he shakes his head, the movement subtle, barely visible. Go, he mouths. Now.

At the guy, he adds, “I thought we were here to talk about business.”

“You want me to focus on business when you brought your pretty girl with you, boy?” The guy makes a beckoning motion at you, still frozen like a deer in the headlights, rooted to your spot only feet away from him and Eddie. “Come closer, doll. Don’t be shy now.”

“No,” Eddie interjects, fervor smoothing his voice as it cuts through the rain-laced air of the clearing, despair flashing out beneath the panic, “She’s not part of this.”

You’re scared out of your mind.

But hell will freeze over before you leave Eddie alone with this man.

So you do what the guy told you.

You step closer, coming to stand beside Eddie.

“Tell you what, boy,” the man purrs, tearing his eyes off of you to meet Eddie’s, a flash of yellowed teeth in diffuse moonlight, as his smirk grows into a grin so devilish you wouldn’t have been surprised had they been pointed, “I’m gonna give you a few more bucks and you’re gonna give me a few minutes with your lovely lady here.”

Beside you, Eddie inches closer to you, shifting to place himself between the guy and you.

Trying to shield you with his own body, you realize.

Eddie Munson, who always swore he was no hero outside of D&D, is becoming your hero right now.

“I’ll give you everything I got with me right now, and you leave,” Eddie counters, voice hard.

A desperate attempt to get you out of this situation.

Almost completely hidden from the guy’s field of vision with Eddie having placed himself in front of you, his muscles taut and ready to fight, your hands slowly dive into the bag slung over your shoulder, fingertips carefully feeling for something, anything, to use to protect him, to protect both of you –

“Or,” the man drawls, taking a step closer, with the ease of a predator rounding in on a wounded fawn, “I’ll just take whatever you got and have some fun with your pretty lady.”

It happens too fast to see it coming.

There’s a snapping sound as the flick-knife the guy must have been holding, concealed in his meaty fist and the dark of night, is flipped open, the jagged blade flashing in the obscure beams of moonlight filtering through the clouds and the foliage of trees above your heads – and Eddie pushes you farther behind him.

Placing yourself between you and the knife’s path as he snaps, voice vibrating, “Stay the fuck away from her.”

The man lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. “And what are you gonna do, hm?”

There. Your fingers wrap around something smooth and cool nestled at the bottom of your bag.

And not a second too soon.

Before the guy can let the knife in his fist soar down to hurt Eddie, you duck around your friend, your own hand flying up as you press your index finger down in the spray bottle in your sweaty grip, sending a blast of hair spray straight into the guy’s face.

He screams, hands flying up to cover his eyes as he stumbles backwards, and the flick-knife lands between the ferns.

Eddie doesn’t waste a single second.

His hand finding yours, he pulls you away from the screaming, staggering man and pushes you towards the path that leads back to the road and the van and safety. Together, you break into a run.

You don’t notice the thorns of the brambles cutting your legs, the burn of your lungs, your muscles, because it all fades to white noise beneath the roaring of blood in your ears, the wild pounding of your heart, Eddie’s own racing steps behind you.

Only at the edges of your panic-addled mind you realize that he’s staying behind you to make sure you’ll get away, first.

The van comes up in the distance, a flash of white among the leaves and branches, and you feel the first tender burst of relief wash through you at the sight.

Eddie rips the driver’s side door open, all but shoving you inside and onto the passenger seat as he climbs in after you, and the old engine comes to life with a sputtering roar. The van jerks forwards with screeching tires as your hands shoot out to grab the door’s handle to avoid toppling over into the footwell.

As the vehicle bolts down the country road leading out of the woods, silence descends upon you, heavy and loud even beneath the roar of the engine, your own panting breaths slowly calming.

You cast Eddie a careful sideways glance.

He doesn’t look at you.

His eyes are glued to the road the way his foot is glued to the gas pedal, jaw set, and his knuckles clamped around the wheel are white.

You’ve never seen him so angry in all the time you’ve known him.

You’ve never felt so angry in all the time you’ve known him, either.

When the van emerges from the woods and lights of the carnival come into sight, the twinkling form of the Ferris wheel rising over the rolling fields of wheat covering the landscape, Eddie steers the vehicle to the side of the road.

By the time he cuts off the engine and pushes the driver’s door open with a force that makes you fear it’ll just rip off its hinges, he still hasn’t uttered a single word.

You reach for the latch in your own door, but before you can open it, Eddie has already rounded the hood, and the door is ripped open to reveal his face, unreadable and void of all the usual humor and goofiness.

“Are you okay?” It sounds strangely hollow, the way he says it.

“Eddie –“

“Are you okay?” It’s nearly a shout, but not an angry one. Only scared. So fucking scared that it makes his voice shake as much as his hands coming up to rake through his curls while his dark eyes roam over you in the diffuse moonlight over the field, the dim glow of the lights inside the van, scanning the tiny cuts decorating your face and arms and legs where the brambles and branches of the woods have left their marks during your flight.

You give a tentative nod.

The breath he seems to have been holding leaves in a sharp exhale as he rakes his hand through his dark curls once more, sending stray leaves falling out as he starts pacing at the edge of the road.

You climb out of the car.

And the storm that’s been building the past few minutes breaks lose – not in the sky, but down beneath it.

“I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

Eddie has never shouted at you.

You’ve never shouted at him, either, but it breaks out of you like a flood-wave.

“ME?! THIS IS MY FAULT?!”

“YES! FUCKING HELL YES IT IS! SHIT. IF YOU HAD, JUST FOR ONCE, LISTENED –“

“ME?! I’M NOT THE ONE MEETING FUCKING KILLERS IN THE WOODS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!”

“THAT’S WHY I TOLD YOU TO STAY –“

“IF I’D STAYED IN THE CAR, YOU’D BE DEAD ON THE FOREST FLOOR NOW!” The thought of it, of Eddie, bleeding out between the ferns, scared and alone and in pain, makes the tears spill over and your voice shatter as you choke out the rest of the sentence in a miserable little whisper. “You’d be fucking dead!” Saying it aloud brings back the fury at him for being so fucking careless. “HE WAS ABOUT TO HURT YOU!”

“AND THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN WAY BETTER THAN IF HE’D HURT YOU! I CAN’T LOSE YOU, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

Eddie’s words shut you up.

They ring through the night, mingle with the soft summer breeze that ruffles the stalks of wheat in the nearby field, the rustling too loud in the shellshocked silence.

The tears which have been glittering in his dark eyes have started running down his pale cheeks.

For a few wild heartbeats, you just stare at each other in the moonlight piercing through the passing clouds, the glow of colorful lights of the fair at the edge of the field sending flares into the night, the stuffy summer night’s air pressing down on the two of you.

In a few quick strides, both of you cross the small distance between the two of you, meeting in the middle.

And then, you’re kissing.

And the world stills, heartbeat accelerating as panic and adrenaline bleed into something entirely else, something that’s been trapped within you for so long it takes a second to realize this, right now, is truly happening.

Eddie’s lips, soft and hot against yours, his palms cradling your face, the metal of his rings warm with the heat of his body as they press gently against your skin.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

He kisses you like he really, truly means it.

Because I fucking love you.

It’s better, so much better than even your wildest daydreams.

You know you’ll never want to kiss anyone else after this.

You know you don’t ever want this kiss to end.

It does, eventually. Eddie pulls away, wide-eyed and panting, lips slightly apart in a gape and curls in a tangled mess – from his own hands raking through it or yours right now, you can’t tell. Even in the half-dark of the night, you can see the blush dusting his cheeks.

“I – I’m sorry,” he breathes, the kiss-dazed gleam in his eyes making room for an appalled expression. “God, fuck, I’m – I didn’t think. I didn’t even ask –“

“I’ve been waiting for you to do this for a very long time,” you say quietly, giving him a soft smile.

For a moment, Eddie just stares at you, as if he’s contemplating whether his mind is playing tricks on him. “You, uh. You did?”

“Yeah,” you whisper into the few inches of between the two of you. “And now I’ll be waiting for you to do it again.”

He does. Not a single beat of hesitation.

This time, when Eddie’s lips meet yours, it’s softer, slower, yet just as intoxicating and feverish as that first kiss.

His hands snake up to cup your cheeks and angle your head as he slowly walks you backwards, until your back meets the side of the van, the metal still warm from the day and the sweltering night air, and butterflies flood your belly, your entire body, a colorful swarm of them making your skin tingle in all the places his body brushes against yours. His chest against yours, one of his knees between yours, his calloused fingertips gently trailing down the column of your throat.

Kissing Eddie Munson is as easy as breathing.

“I meant it,” he breathes into the kiss, before resting his forehead against yours, the curls of his bangs tickling you, “What I said. I’m so fucking sorry I dragged you into this mess. I’m so fucking sorry I put you in danger.” He swallows. “And I’m so fucking much in love with you.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling his smile. “I’ve been loving you for a very long time, Eddie.”

You place your hands over his, still holding your face.

“I was so fucking scared,” Eddie murmurs, voice trembling again with new tears. “Fuck. I was so stupid –“

“We’re okay,” you whisper, fingers squeezing his, “We’re safe. You saved me.”

“Shit, you saved me. What even was that? Pepper spray?”

You chuckle. “Farah Fawcett hair spray.”

Eddie blinks, before he gives a breathless little laugh, as if he’s not sure he’d rather laugh or cry. Probably both. “Pretty fucking metal.”

“I wanted to look pretty for you tonight,” you amend, and Eddie’s expression grows serious again.

“You always look pretty, sweetheart. I’ve been having a pretty hard time not ogling you every second we’re together.”

“You need to promise me you’ll never ever meet clients in the middle of the woods. Not at night. Not by day either. And –“

“I promise,” Eddie interrupts, voice sincere. “I’m gonna stick to the clients I know. No expanding the business.”

“Good,” you breathe, letting your hands fall away from his to lock them at the nape of his neck, fingertips playing with his dark curls.

“Your hair is really soft,” you breathe, lips not an inch from his, feeling stupid all of a sudden for saying it out loud, but Eddie replies with an adorable little giggle that makes your heart soar and race and squeeze with love all at the same time.

“Thanks. It’s…uh. Don’t laugh. It’s Farah Fawcett conditioner.”

Your own soft laugh fades into the night as Eddie’s lips find yours again, the summer storm brewing over your heads and the glittering lights of the carnival in the distance and the moment of terror in the woods blurring against the radiant joy of knowing the one you love loves you back just as much.

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝🖤

Requests for angst/smangst remain open. If you want to check out my works in progress, here's the list🖤

[klttn]

just thinking about dreamy nd pervy, in love stalker simon who started out following you as just a way to check you were safe after the 141 had found you on mission. fragile little thing you were. he just wanted to make sure you were settling okay.

he didn’t intend for it to be any more than that. but it became routine. and being the military mutt he was, he loved his routine. at least that’s what he tells himself late at night when he’s defiling you in his head with his cock out and his hand fisting it.

it started out by him just watching you, lingering so close but just far enough that a little ditz like you wouldn’t notice a thing. making sure you weren’t being followed, keeping you safe, being your guard dog.

he didn’t know when it escalated to more than that. to needing to see you constantly. craving you as his. wanting you to be his girl. you basically already were, to him at least.

so like any doting boyfriend. he put cameras in your house. to protect you. obviously. he was just protecting you. it’s not an invasion of privacy. your his, right? you will be his.

so of course, he’d scare off any man who showed even the smallest of interest in you. whether that be online or in person. “you’re not good enough for her,” he’d tell them. mask covering his face as he growled at them after pulling them aside in a dark alley. “she is mine, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

and silly little you just didn’t know any better, flirting with others whilst you’re his. he’s just making sure you’re loyal.

he’d later watch the sad and confused look on your face when they never came back to you or in online cases just disappear completely. no text. no calls. just vanishing. but fuck did you look so cute when you were wide eyed and lost, looking for someone already gone and scared shitless.

though in his eyes, you always look so pretty when you don’t know he’s watching.

and he was always watching. he loved it. all the mundane things you do too, having him cooing and imagining what life would be like if he lived with you.

he even started doing things with you. watching you as your brushed your teeth whilst he did the same, chuckling to himself when the frothy mint would drool from your mouth. mornings with my girl, he thought.

cooking and watching you eat with him too. tv screen broadcasting you as he’d sit n take mouthful after mouthful. intently watching when you’d moan at how good the food would taste. he also imagined those noises for other things.

but his favourite thing to watch though, was you at night. when he was laying in bed, phone in hand with the feed up keening as soft snores filled the speakers and you’d cuddle even closer to your duvet.

he’d imagine himself behind you, enveloping you in his meaty scarred body, so eager for you to be his. to wrap himself around you and keep you claimed in his hold and surrounded by his scent.

he never intended to watch you change or in the shower though. she’d show me one day. she’s mine after all. that lasted all but a couple of weeks at best. he knew he wasn’t supposed to, he really wasn’t. but in his defence, he didn’t expect the first time he watched you undress for you to do such filthy things. he soon found out you made the prettiest noises when you touched yourself.

he wasn’t supposed to do it again though. watch as you stripped your clothes off and spread yourself out on the bed after a long day. legs trembling as you trailed your fingers up and down your body, rubbing soft circles around your folds and puffy swollen clit.

he wasn’t supposed to get hard at the way the camera angled just perfectly to show every inch of your soft n wanting body to him. able to see the way your little hole begged to be filled.

he really wasn’t supposed to turn the volume up and start fucking into his fist the minute your adorable little whimpers left the speakers. jacking his wrist in sync to your pathetic attempt to fuck yourself with your too-small fingers. i could fill her up so much better, he’d think.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to cum hot white stripes all over his calloused and rough hand with your name spilling from his lips. groaning when he heard you coming undone with him.

he certainly wasn’t supposed to then break into your house the next day whilst you were out. stealing a pair of panties to help his endeavours. he was a strong man, but you were his weakness.

maybe he’d even leave one of his hoodies for you to be confused by. a letter hidden in the front pocket.

“you may not know it yet, little girl, but you are mine. — ghost, your stalker and the man who saved your life.”

after all, he had to reintroduce himself somehow. what were you gonna do? tell the cops?

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter twelve

Summary: It's not who the hell is Bucky, it's where the hell is Bucky?

Warning: Lack of Bucky. Mean Bucky is back (question mark?)

Word Count: 1654

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A/N: Oh... Buck. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10

Your phone buzzed, an indication that you received a text, and you eagerly snatched it up. Only to find it was the regular pizza deal text from the local pizzeria you ordered from, one time. Sighing, you tossed your phone back onto the couch and wrapped your cardigan tighter around yourself. 

A few days had passed since that night Bucky left your apartment. In that time, he hadn’t returned any of your calls or texts, and he hadn’t been showing up at the bar. You had expressed your growing concern to the rest of the group, however they seemed unbothered. “He’s just being Bucky,” they all waved off with a casual shrug. 

As the day continued to pass without a word from him, your worry began to deepen. Each time your phone buzzed, your hope would flare, only to vanish when it wasn’t him. 

The first place you checked when you hadn’t heard back from him was his apartment. You had gone there during a time when you knew he wouldn’t be at work. Knocking on his door and calling his name, you waited around a few moments longer than you normally would, but there had been no answer. You had even asked his neighbors, but they explained that they rarely see him. 

You found yourself pacing the apartment, the thought of him possibly hurt or in trouble gnawed at you. Your mind raced. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

Grabbing your phone and keys, you decided to check the local hospital. It felt drastic, but the uncertainty was eating away at you. The cool air did little to calm your nerves as you walked toward the hospital. 

At the hospital’s reception desk, you explained your situation to the receptionist, trying to not rush your words and steady your breathing. “Hi, I was just wondering if my friend has been admitted here. He hasn’t been in touch for a few days, and I’m really worried. His name is James Barnes… but he might be under Bucky.” 

The receptionist took a moment to check her records, giving you a sympathetic look as she turned back to you. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone by that name admitted.” 

Your heart sank, but you thanked the lady and headed toward the bar. As you walked, the city lights began to turn on as you debated your next move. Checking with Fury felt like the next logical step, but you worried it may be too extreme. 

Reaching the bar with heavy steps, your mind swirled with anxiety and unanswered questions. You saw that Natasha was already sitting at the booth. Concern was etched on her face as she looked up at you sliding into the booth. “Hey, everything okay? You don’t look so good.” 

You shook your head, fidgeting with the ends of your cardigan shelves. “I still haven’t heard from Bucky… I checked his apartment, the hospitals… nothing.” 

She reached out, a comforting hand resting on top of your trembling ones. “I know you’re worried, but remember,” she paused, taking a sigh. “This isn’t the first time he’s disappeared like this. He’s always had the habit of going off the grid for a week or two and then, one day we walk in here and he’s just back.” 

You nodded, a mixed feeling of frustration and relief rushed through you at her words. “I know, but it just feels different, Nat. Something doesn’t feel right.” 

Natasha gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a sympathetic look covering her face. “I get it, but he’s a tough guy, he knows what he’s doing,” 

You couldn’t shake the worry entirely, but her words gave you a small sense of hope. As the rest of the evening passed by, you found yourself staring at the empty seat across from you.

~

Over the rest of the weeks, you tried everything you could think of to try and get a reply from him. You continued to send him calls and texts, each one sounding more desperate as the days passed. You even resorted to sending him Snapchats of your kitten, hoping that a glimpse of the kitten you named, Alpine, together would prompt him to reach out. 

However, no matter how hard you tried, all you could see was that everything had only been delivered. He remained silent, and you were left unread. 

You checked your phone obsessively, hoping for some sign of him. 

The week rolled into the next, and you found yourself trying to distract yourself with work and drawing. No matter how hard to tried to focus on something else, your thoughts kept drifting back to Bucky. You found yourself returning to his apartment time and time again, hoping you would catch him. But each time, the door remained closed. 

~

After a night with the rest of your friends, the bar began to empty out. You had remained lost in your thoughts for most of the night, your gaze still fixed on the empty seat in front of you. 

Suddenly, the door to the bar swung open. Your heart began to race as the hope built up inside you. Stretching your neck out to turn toward the door, you locked gazes with Tony. 

Tony had been a friend of your group for years, he was the best mechanic in the city and did everything to help out with the bikes. He walked in, carrying a bulky-looking package. His eyes remained locked on yours, a bright smile spread across his face as he made his way over to the booth. 

“Evening ladies,” Tony greeted, the term ladies used to greet all five of you sat at the booth. “I’ve been meaning to give this to Barnes, but since he hasn’t shown up or answered his goddamn phone… I figured I’d better bring it to you.” 

You watched as Tony placed the cardboard box on the table in front of you. “What’s this?” you asked, curiosity filling your voice. 

Tony shot you a mischievous grin as he began opening the box, revealing a pastel pink motorcycle helmet adorned with intricate designs. “Barnes ordered this from the shop a couple of weeks ago…” he trailed on before handing it to you. “Like I said, he hasn’t come to collect it yet or answered any of my calls. But, I can only assume it’s for you.” 

Your eyes welled, the surprise of the gesture taking over your emotions. You reached out to look over the helmet, feeling the smooth surface beneath your fingertips. It was adorable, matching the color of your new cardigan perfectly, and the fact that Bucky had gone out of his way to order it for you filled your heart. 

“Thank you, Tony…” you sniffled, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. “I have no idea he was planning something like this.” 

Tony chuckled, his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, I’m glad I could get it to you, Cry Baby.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at Tony. He didn’t stay around much longer, with a nod and a wave, he bif you all farewell before leaving. 

Holding the helmet in your hands, you couldn’t help but think of Bucky. Why would he plan this gesture but then disappear, you thought? 

~

You felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation as you stood outside of Bucky’s apartment door, clutching the pink helmet. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you reached out to knock on his door. 

The sound of your knocking echoed in the hallway, you held your breath as you waited anxiously for a response. 

A surge of relief rushed through you as the door cracked open. However, it was short-lived as you looked up to see Bucky standing there, shirtless and caught off guard. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, and his skin shined from sweat. His eyes widened in surprise as he registered your presence.

“Hi…” you greeted him, offering a small smile in the awkwardness of the situation. “I, uh, Tony… Tony came by the bar tonight,” you tried to keep your voice steady while gesturing toward the helmet in your hands. “I just wanted to thank you for the helmet,”

His expression was guarded as his gaze went back and forth between you and the interior of his apartment. He stepped back slightly, closing the door with him, blocking your view into the apartment. “Oh, uh, yeah. No problem,” he mumbled, his tone terse and distant, if you hadn’t been hanging on his every word, you may have missed him adding your name at the end. 

He hadn’t used your name since you were four years old. Twenty years, he has only called you ‘Sweetheart,’ until now. It was a small detail, you should have easily overlooked but it felt significant somehow.

That was when you heard movement coming from the apartment, and the pieces fell into place. You tried to mask your embarrassment as you realized that you had most likely interrupted something more intimate. 

“I really appreciate it,” you said, trying to maintain your composure. “It, um, it was so thoughtful of you.” 

His eyes darted between you and the helmet, and you could see the tension in his posture as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Yeah, well, it’s no big deal,” he muttered, his voice strained.

You bit back the urge to apologize but instead, you focused on getting away as quickly as you could. “I’ll, uh, let you get back to… whatever you were doing,” you said, your voice tinged with embarrassment. 

Bucky nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah… thanks,” he mumbled, his gaze avoided yours.

With a final awkward smile, you turned to leave. As the door closed behind you, you made your way back down the hallway. Before rounding the corner, you stopped in your tracks turning back to look at his door. 

With a heavy sigh, you tore your gaze away and continued on your way.

---

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[hyperactively-me]

Hear me out…King Ghost is wearing a white shirt and he somehow falls into a pond/lake in front of his wife. When he gets out of the water his white shirt is completely transparent and (y/n) can see everything. And while Simon is trying to get out of the lake he just sees his wife looking at him like 👀.

(In reality, a king’s shirt shouldn’t be flimsy and thin enough to be that transparent but I think it is a funny thought if Simon specifically got thin white shirts so his wife would check him out bc he’s a little slut for his wife but she doesn’t know that yet shhhh.)

omg bestie please this is the scene from bridgerton we all know and dearly love!!!!! yes!!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden, glow across the lake. The winter season had finally passed, the snow gone and melted. Spring had sprung. King Ghost guided a small rowboat through the gentle water, the oars of the boat skimming over the water languidly.

As the boat glided effortlessly across the water, you sat back, enjoying the gentle breeze and the soothing lull of the water. You peek your head over the side of the boat for a moment, staring at your wavy reflection in the water.

“The spring here is beautiful, Simon,” you say, running a hand in the cool water.

“I thought you would like it,” he says, continuing to row the boat, each stroke of the oars propelling you both towards the dock. “Kastron is known for its wildflower fields, super blooms occur here in the springtime, especially during the rainy season.” 

“Oh wow! That sounds amazing, you’ll have to take me to see them sometime,” you smile, looking back up at him from the water. 

As the boat drifts, you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh spring air. It's a welcome break from the formalities and duties in the palace, and a chance for the two of you to be together.

Spending time with him was all you wanted a few months ago, and since then, he’s made a continuous and honest effort to spend time with you, and you with him. Honestly, you’ve grown to truly have an affection for him, a real liking for him, a stark difference from the time you first met him.

The sunlight dances on the surface of the lake, casting a shimmering reflection. You find yourself lost in the beauty of the moment, the gentle ripples of the water, and the soothing sounds of nature all around you.

Simon's strong arms work in time with the boat, his gaze never leaving you. He shifts slightly, thinking of something to say. "I had hoped this outing would be a pleasant surprise," he says, his tone soft and earnest.

You lean closer to him, reaching out to caress his cheek with your hand. “It is more than pleasant, Simon. It's perfect.”

His brown eyes, once reserved and guarded, now shine with warmth. He briefly stops rowing, allowing the boat to drift for a moment as he leans in to kiss the palm of your hand. 

"I'm glad to hear that," he whispers, his lips grazing your skin. "I wanted to show you a different side of Kastron, just you and me.”

You can't help but blush, feeling a flutter in your chest. The two of you had grown closer over the past few months, and it was moments like these that made you realize just how much you enjoyed his company. You've come to appreciate his dedication to his people, his sense of duty, and his unwavering support for you.

The boat drifted to a halt by the lakeside, and Simon gracefully rose to disembark. But, without warning, his foot caught on the edge of the boat's wooden plank, and he stumbled, pitching forward into the cool water. 

You gasped, your heart leaped in your chest as you watched him vanish beneath the surface with a splash. Your first instinct was to reach out, to help him, but you remained frozen, unable to take your eyes off the scene unfolding before you.

Simon resurfaced, water dripping from his tousled, sandy blonde hair, and that's when you noticed it. His once perfectly pressed white shirt now clung to him like a second skin, rendered completely transparent by the water. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw every curve and contour of his physique, the strong lines of his chest, and the ripple of his muscles beneath the wet fabric.

Your husband, the king, stood before you, basically exposed, yet somehow looks more alluring than ever. You didn’t have to know he tripped on purpose. Hell, he’s way too coordinated for a fall as simple as that. He only did it to impress you, to get into your subconscious. But you don’t have to know.

“Simon!” you cry out, springing up from your seat. The boat rocks as you push yourself up from your seat, leaning over the boat. You jump over your seat, extending a hand to Simon. 

He takes your hand with a sheepish grin, water dripping from his soaked clothes. “Well, that was—" he says, chuckling.

You can't help but stare, you really can’t. You help pull him back on the boat, watching his arms flex as he pulls himself up. His proximity sends a shiver down your spine, but you do your best to focus. “Are you okay?”

Simon nods, water droplets splattering around him. “I'm perfectly fine, just a bit wet,” he replies, slipping his shirt off. You are now staring unabashedly at his now bare chest, his muscles and abs rippling as he starts to wring out his shirt as best he can. 

“O– okay” you gulp, nodding. 

“What is it?” he asks, nonchalant.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, just…you falling startled me a bit,” your eyes darted around, your face growing extremely warm.

“Hm. Well, I am sorry for startling you—”

“No, don’t be sorry at all!” you laugh slightly, brushing hair from your face.

“Alright, I’m not sorry, then,” he says, now fully grinning at you. “I saw you staring.”

Your mouth goes agape for a split second, then you flounder, spluttering about how you weren’t staring. 

“I wasn’t staring!” you say incredulously, exaggerating your reaction. 

“You definitely were, darling.” 

“No I wasn’t!”

He just laughs, shaking his head. He turns, hiding his face from you for a moment. God, he’s obsessed with you.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[strawberryspence]

Listen, it’s been a hard few days.

From the day Eddie— his new friend— got pulled into this shit show called The Upside Down, to when he literally had to watch Max float into the air as the evil wizard from the other dimension tried to kill her from the inside. To today, in which Eddie’s in the hospital— after Steve miraculously carried him on his back to the hospital— and where Max is also in— broken and in a coma, but alive.

It’s natural to feel confused from fatigue and emotional distress. But this? Dustin doesn’t even know what to do with it.

It’s been a long morning. After a lot of suffocating, but well deserved, smothering from his mother, he then got another suffocating but again, well deserved smothering from Steve when he finally picked him up.

Steve looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, his hair is… a mess. It’s flat and not styled. It looks like he didn’t even go home? Did he stay by Eddie’s side the whole night? For someone who hates someone, that’s a lot of effort. Dustin opens his mouth to ask or investigate, but they arrive at the hospital in a record time. Steve probably ignored every street sign.

What Dustin doesn’t understand is why Eddie’s room is jam packed so early in the morning? In the room, there’s Erica, Lucas, Mike, Robin, Nancy and Wayne, Eddie’s Uncle. And now there’s him and Steve.

“Why are you all in here?!” Dustin asks the room. There’s too many people in the small hospital bedroom.

“The doctors said he’s waking up anytime soon.” Nancy informs him, not taking her eyes off Eddie.

“And you’re all here to just watch him?” Dustin pushes in distress, “You guys, we might overwhelm him when he wakes up. We should do it one at a time.”

“I am not leaving.” Erica voices out at the corner of the room.

“Guys.” Dustin says, his voice wavering with anxiety and worry. He meets Mr. Munson’s eyes, who softens at the expression on his face.

“It’s okay, kid.” Wayne rasps, “Eddie would love to wake up with everyone just watching him. Ya know how dramatic he is.”

This earns a few snickers and chuckles from them. Dustin looks around to see if Steve stayed, only to see him exiting the room with Robin. Robin’s softly rubbing his hand with her hands, like she’s comforting him. There’s a look on Steve’s face. It’s— concern? worry? But they’re already gone before Dustin can study it further.

After all of this, Dustin will put it on top priority to get those two together. Why they won’t just date, he never understood.

Eddie groans and silence overtakes the whole room. Dustin stares at him, quietly praying for his friend to finally wake up, for him to be okay. He just wants Eddie to be okay, he never intended for him to get dragged into this.

Eddie moans as he slowly moves, his eyes fluttering open and squinting at the bright light. Dustin can hear everybody holding their breath.

Eddie turns to Wayne. Stares at his Uncle for a second before he smiles. Suddenly, Dustin can finally breathe again. He watches as Eddie looks at every person in the room. Smiling and waving a small wave to everyone.

But his smile drops. Oh no.

“What’s wrong?” Dustin asks, as he moves closer to Eddie. The fear is already cruising through his veins.

Eddie turns to Nancy in alarm, “Steve?”

Nancy blinks back, confused, “What?”

He ignores the question. Turning to Wayne instead, “Wayne?”

Wayne nods, leaving a kiss on his head, “Calm down, boy. Give me a second.”

Wayne stands up and jogs out of the room.

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Nancy asks, as Mike comes closer too. Dustin doesn’t know how to help but Eddie’s hand is shaking.

“We should call a doctor.” Lucas announces.

“No!” Eddie immediately answers, “No! I just want—“

The door springs open. It thuds against the wall with force. Steve moves closer to the bed, breathless as Robin and Wayne follow him in the room.

All the tension— They just— They just vanish from Eddie. He visibly melts into relief. His shoulders sagging in content, and he has this smile on his face. It’s… It’s a smile Dustin has never seen on his face. It’s small, but bright and full of adoration.

Eddie whispers something. Which Dustin thinks he hallucinates, or maybe he heard it wrong. But he turns to the others, and from the look on their faces he might’ve actually heard it right.

Eddie lifts his hand, beckoning Steve closer, and then he says it again, clearly and louder.

“Sweetheart.”

Steve blinks and in a surprising turn of events, he— he starts crying. Steve Harrington starts crying. Dustin didn't even see him cry after he was tortured by the Russians.

“You fucking idiot!” Steve glares at Eddie, “I told you not to be a hero! I told you not to be cute! I asked you for one thing! And you did it anyway! What if I didn’t get back in time? What if I wasn’t able to bring you to the hospital? You could’ve died! You almost died!”

Dustin gasps in anger. How could he do this? Eddie saved him! “Steve! Shut up!”

“No!” Steve turns to him. There’s tears streaming down his face. “This is between me and him.”

“Sweetheart.” Eddie calls out again, and his hand is still in the air waiting for— whatever he’s waiting for.

“I’m so sorry about him, Mr. Munson.” Dustin turns to Wayne, who shrugs at him. He looks entertained. Which is weird.

Steve sniffles, shaking his head, “No. Don’t sweetheart me, Edward fucking Munson.”

Eddie groans, “I did what I had to do.”

They stare at each other for a few more minutes as the room fills with uncomfortable silence.

“I am sorry.” Eddie finally whispers and Dustin wants to interrupt. He doesn’t have to apologize about anything. He did what he had to do.

Steve sniffles, “Good.”

Eddie does something he has never done in the entire time Dustin knows him.

Eddie (Edward apparently) Munson pouts.

“Now?” Eddie lifts up his hand again.

“Okay.” Steve whispers before…

Before intertwining their hands together. Steve sits on Eddie’s bedside, sweeping Eddie’s hair off his face. They’re acting like they’re the only people in this room. Maybe they think they are.

“I am glad you're okay, sweetheart.” Eddie says, a smile dancing on his face.

“Me? Of course, I am okay.” Steve replies. There’s a softness to his voice that Dustin’s never heard before. “Do you want me to call you a doctor, baby? Are you okay?”

“No, I just wanted to see if you’re okay. Just needed to know.” Eddie stares up at him, it comes out loopy but there’s a real spark of joy in his eyes.

Woah, alright. Steve moves closer and kisses Eddie— On the lips. Oh my god? Is Dustin dreaming? Is Vecna still alive and showing this to him?

“What the hell is happening?!” Mike demands, breaking the glass of peace they have, and making Steve pull away from Eddie immediately.

“Oh.” Steve breathes out. Like he’s just realizing that they were there. Dustin frowns as he sees Steve’s face contour from fear to sadness. Fear for what?

“Uh.” Steve stammers, looking back at Eddie who looks like he’s about to bite Mike on the arm.

“Steve and I are dating. Since the starcourt mall burned down.” Eddie finally explains, and Wayne immediately moves closer to them like— like he’s trying to protect Steve and Eddie. From what? From them? Instinctively, Robin moves to follow Wayne.

“Oh.” Someone says, maybe it was Nancy or maybe Mike.

Dustin blinks. He tries his best to absorb the news, but he can’t think straight with that devastated look on Steve’s face or that defensive look on Eddie’s. What’s wrong with them dating? Well, Dustin takes offense over the fact that Steve didn’t tell him but there’s nothing really wrong. Two boys—

Oh. Oh.

“Alright.” Dustin finally says, making everyone turn to him. He tries to make it sound as casual as possible, “Listen, congratulations. But I am angry that you both hid this from me.”

Lucas is nodding his head beside Dustin, “Dude. Really? Our dungeon master? Come on now, Steve. You could do better.” He teases, making Steve finally cough a tiny laugh.

Mike scoffs, “If there’s anyone that could do better, it would be Eddie. Really, Eddie? Steve? I can’t believe you fell for the Harrington Charm.”

Eddie sputters a response, but he’s too busy blushing to say anything.

“Instead of ice cream, I want insider information for the next campaign.” The room erupts into noises as Mike argues that Erica can’t do that, Eddie relaxes and says no one can have insider information. In the corner, Dustin sees Nancy hug Steve and say something into his ear.

Dustin lets his eyes wander and he meets Eddie’s eyes. Eddie smiles at him, nodding. It’s his way of thanking him.

They’ll talk later, and Eddie will get his own lecture from Dustin. Maybe a shovel talk for each of them. Not that they really need it, Steve looks at Eddie like he’s the creator of the universe and Eddie looks at Steve like he holds all the answers of the world. Perfect.

But he lets it be for now. Again, it’s been a hard few days. There’s nothing wrong with letting himself bask in this sliver of happiness and safety.

[explosionkatsu]

“Age doesn’t matter” 6

Dad!Bakugou x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

“Mama Y/n..”

Did he hear him right? Did his son just call his teacher mama?

Katsuki scowled at this. He was trying to keep himself calm as he put Kazui back to bed and left the bedroom fast. This time, he shut the door as calmly as he can not to wake Kazui and made his way to the kitchen.

“What the fuck have you been teaching Kazui, huh!”

The loud voice made you stop pouring the sauces onto each plate and looked at Katsuki who was slowly nearing you.

“W-what?” You were confused. You didn't know what you did wrong.

“What the fuck have you been teaching to my son huh,” Katsuki repeated his voice raising.

“N-nothing! What would I teach him?” You were so confused. Earlier everything was fine, now here you are, face to face with an angry Bakugou.

“I don't know what you did to him, but this is the last time you’ll take care of him! I don't care if you're his teacher. You are not to take him in this shitty-ass apartment, ever again!” Katsuki yelled slamming his hand on the counter, trying to not activate his quirk.

Hearing him say this, Y/n’s heart throbbed painfully. She didn't know what she did exactly and why was he suddenly like this to you.

“B-bakugou. I really have no idea, please. Believe me.” Y/n looked him in his eyes showing him your honesty. You were really clueless.

Katsuki who was staring back at you saw how you have really no idea what he was talking about. He simply looked away and ran his hand through his hair.

“You really have no fucking idea, huh,” Katsuki said with a lower voice this time.

“Please. I really don’t..” You mumble wiping a tear from your eye.

Katsuki hesitated at first. He wasn't sure if he should really trust you or if this is only an act. But seeing you wipe a tear from your eye made him feel terrible. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before speaking.

“He calls you mama.”

Y/n didn't miss how his scowl deepened mentioning this. She sniffed a little bit before trying to compose herself.

“I need to tell you something.” She mumbled, head hanging low.

Katsuki slightly turn his head to look at you after he heard what you said.

“When we got home. Eer, I mean. When we reached my apartment, I was preparing our dinner when he suddenly asked me something and made me stop.” She said as she tucked a hair to her ear.

“What is it,” Katsuki commanded listening intently, his gaze never leaving her face.

“He asked if I could be his mother. I told him it was not possible so he cried.” Y/n said recalling the scene from earlier. She could remember how broke Kazui looks making her heart throb in pain. “He said why he doesn't have a mom, why he couldn't have a mom, and started crying.”

When Katsuki heard this, he couldn't help but close his eyes in despair. He didn't know his son is feeling this way. Was that the reason why he was asking for his mother?

“It pains my heart seeing him cry. I love Kazui. Like my own child. But at that moment, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't say no because I can't.” You said, tears streaming from your eyes. “All I did was apologize and carry him. Embrace him as much as I can.” You sniffed. “Then after a few minutes, he calmed down. I found out he was asleep. So I put him on my bed and just went back to cooking.”

After you told him what happened, there was an uncomfortable silence.

“She left.”

Y/n slightly look up to look at Katsuki who suddenly started talking.

“After she gave birth. Kazui’s mother just vanished without any trace.” Why was he saying this to you anyway? “I got home hearing Kazui crying. I made him a bottle of milk not bothering to change. I was helpless. I didn't know what to do when I checked my home empty. All her clothes were gone, jewelry. Even the money I stacked for emergencies. It was all gone.”

You stared at Katsuki in pity. So that's what happened.

Katsuki looked at you seeing how you were staring at him in pity making him tch.

“Don’t fucking look down on me.” Katsuki looked away. “I did what I had to do. I asked for my parent's help.”

“You were brave, Bakugou..”

Your statement made him fully look at you. He saw how sincere you are. How honest. How innocent. So unlike his ex-wife. Now he gets why Kazui was so attached to you.

“Papa?”

The small voice made both eyes widen. Katsuki looked behind him, and you, looked behind Katsuki both seeing Kazui waking up from his nap.

“Are you fighting?” Kazui looked at both of you.

“No, sweetie. Why would we fight?” Y/n smiled at Kazui.

“Papa?” Kazui looks to his papa asking for confirmation.

“Were not, brat,” Katsuki said ruffling Kazui’s hair.

Kazui lifted his arms up, asking to be carried but Katsuki rejected him.

“I thought you said you were too old to be carried,” Katsuki smirked but carried Kazui anyway.

Once Kazui settled in his arms, he looked at Y/n who just smiled at him.

“Ms. Y/n?” Kazui called.

“What is it, dear?” Y/n said staring sweetly at Kazui.

“Did you cry?”

Y/n stiffened but quickly compose herself. “Of course not, sweetie. Why would I cry?” You said.

Suddenly, Kazui places his small hand on your cheek making you blink.

“Are you okay, Ms. Y/n? Is someone bothering you? I can make papa beat them for you.”

Y/n laughed at what Kazui just said. He didn't know that you cried because of his father. But you’re not going to tell him that, of course.

“I assure you, sweetie. Teacher’s fine, okay?” Y/n gave Kazui a soft smile. “Now why don't you put this plate on the table so we can eat? You know your papa and I waited for you to wake up so we can all eat together.” You giggled seeing Kazui’s excited reaction as he wiggle out of his father’s arms.

“Really! We would eat together?! Yay!!” Kazui quickly grab the plates you were about to hand him and carefully took small steps, trying to spill the food.

Katsuki watches your interaction with Kazui quietly. He was still standing beside you in the kitchen, watching how you lied to his son about not crying.

Was this what it's supposed to feel like to have a wife around?

Katsuki saw how you treated Kazui like your own blood. How motherly you act towards him. No wonder he called you mama. Because he’s seeing you as a mother figure. A mother Katsuki wished Kazui has.

“Bakugou? Are you okay?”

Now here you are, worrying about him too.

“Tch. I’m fine.” Katsuki said about to head where the dining area.

“Wait.” Y/n suddenly said and grab his wrist, causing him to look at her.

“It may be too much to say, but please. Don’t take Kazui away..”

Her eyes. It's always her eyes that he noticed. It's how she shows her true emotions through her eyes.

“Tch.” Katsuki tched and firmly let go of her grasp.

He stood motionless, slowly putting his other hand inside his pocket and then slightly turning his head behind so he can look at her. But he didn't say anything, instead, he walked away.

Y/n looked at his back sadly. She didn't know if that was approved or not. But she tried not to get it inside her head. She took the last two plates from the counter and places them on the dining table where Katsuki and Kazui were now sitting on their own chairs.

“Itadakimasu.”

..

The dinner went well. From Kazui’s rambling, and spilling food everywhere to Katsuki scolding Kazui to not spill the food everywhere and you, just smiling and chuckling, watching the father and son interaction.

After dinner, Kazui was watching TV whilst Y/n clean up the dining table. Unexpectedly, Kastuki suddenly appeared, helping her.

“No, no. It's fine. You're my guess-

“Shut up,” Katsuki mumbled going to the sink and started washing the dishes.

“B-bakugou.” You tried to stop him but he just blocked you from going closer to the sink.

“I said shut up. Wipe the table.” Katsuki threw a soaked tablecloth to Y/n’s face. Noticing it hit her face, Katsuki smirked. But soon turned into a laugh when he saw you pouting.

“Bakugou.” You pouted but threw the cloth back at him, hitting him on his face as well, earning you a laugh.

Katsuki growled in this. “You little shit.” When the cloth slid off reveals his annoyed yet playful face. “Come back here!”

“No!”

When Y/n saw Katsuki took a step, you also took off. Both adult running around the house while Kazui watched in delight, laughing.

..

It was now 10 pm in the evening.

The sleeping Kazui was carried by Katsuki as he left the Y/n’s who were following him behind.

You followed them all the way to their car where you saw Katsuki settle Kazui into his own car seat, making sure that the belt was fastened and closing the door.

“Have a safe travel, Bakugou.” Y/n smiled as she watches Katsuki made his way to the driver’s seat.

But before Katsuki get inside, he looked at Y/n who was looking back at him curiously. “There’s a bag I left in your apartment. Go inside.” Katsuki said tilting his head in the direction of her apartment. “It's dangerous at this hour. You don't have to see us off.” He added.

“T-thank you.” You mumbled, slightly blushing.

“Ha? Tf are you thanking me for? I should be the one doing that.” Katsuki slightly pouts. “I said go.”

“Y-yes.” You stuttered. “G-goodnight, Bakugou.” You smiled slowly turning away.

“Tch.”

Once you entered your apartment, you heard the engine start and gradually, the sound drifted away.

Y/n smiled to herself. She didn't expect Katsuki to have his playful side as well. She thought he was all serious.

Once she locked her front door. Y/n was about to leave the living room when she saw the bag Katsuki was talking about.

She blinked at it curiously as she approached it. When she opened it, she saw a bunch of fruits and flowers and a small note with writing saying thank you. She smiled softly as she read this.

[novaursa]

Ok I have a thought and everything turn around this song

https://open.spotify.com/track/3gS0VrWH2NyPGXYiFmcagd?si=GyNvN-TlRdK8WaKeFUi8zw

Fem! Reader is supposed to be the daughter of Leanor but she had the strong’s look. She never had a doubt about who her real father is, she always loved Harwin cause he was very closed to her behind closed door obviously.

Growing up she ask her mother to come back to King’s Landing, she might be engaged to Aemond. But everything she had in mind is to kill Larys Strong, the anger she had is that strong that she might even died or get captured but when it’s happens her dragon goes back to harenhal and Daemon and the Strong’s family understand what happened

Blood For Blood

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Sheepstealer lands upon Harrenhal, alone.

- Paring: None, can be assumed to be a daughter!reader/(father) Harwin Strong (platonic), as reader attempts to avenge her father.

- Note: The reader is bonded with Sheepstealer. I hope this is what you had in mind. Some information had to be left out, so the plot can come together in this short story.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

Smoke rises above the blackened stones of Harrenhal as the air thrums with the sound of wings. A massive shadow crosses over the crumbled towers and battlements, casting a darkness so deep it feels like the sun has vanished from the world. The creature circling the castle is unmistakable. Sheepstealer.

Daemon Targaryen, atop Caraxes, looks up from his perch on the scorched ramparts, brow furrowed. His silver hair shimmers in the dim light, an almost ethereal contrast to the beast circling above. Beside him, Simon Strong, one of the last of his bloodline, tightens his grip on the pommel of his sword. The weight of realization settles between them, heavy and oppressive.

“She’s not with him,” Daemon murmurs, his voice low but tinged with that ever-present edge of amusement that he never fully abandons, even in the face of tragedy. His eyes remain fixed on the dragon, the massive beast known for its temperament, who now glides through the sky riderless.

Simon glances at Daemon, lips pressed into a thin line. "It is as we feared, then." His voice is rough, aged and worn from years of bitter experience. His face, weathered by both time and the weight of his family’s cursed legacy, holds no surprise, only resignation.

“She went after him,” Daemon says with a certainty that causes Simon’s breath to hitch for a moment. He doesn't look at Simon, his gaze still held by the dragon. "After Larys."

There’s a stillness between the two men, a tension in the silence, as Sheepstealer lets out a deep, rumbling growl. The sound reverberates through the courtyard below, shaking the very earth. The dragon lowers itself to the ground with a grace that defies its monstrous size, its claws digging into the charred earth as it lets out a shuddering snort.

Daemon watches closely as the dragon’s head swivels, searching, waiting. There is no rider upon his back. No proud figure, no fierce expression to match the storm of fury that had been brewing ever since you left King’s Landing. And in that absence, Daemon knows. They both know.

“She’s dead.”

Simon speaks the words that hang between them, his voice barely more than a whisper. Daemon doesn't reply immediately. He doesn’t need to. They can both see it—the truth laid bare in the arrival of the beast without its mistress. You are gone, as surely as your father before you, lost in the flames of vengeance that have consumed your bloodline.

"Y/N..." Daemon finally speaks your name, voice barely louder than a breath, almost reverent. He had never truly known you, not as he had known your mother, Rhaenyra, or even your father, Harwin, but there was always a bond, an understanding. You were fire, like all Targaryens, but a different kind—quieter, colder. Until the day Harwin Strong died.

Since that day, your flame had burned hotter, more dangerously, and everyone knew where it would lead. Even your dragon, fierce and independent as he was, had bent to your will. You wanted vengeance for the father taken from you in the blackened ruins of Harrenhal. You had sworn to see Larys Strong dead for the part he had played in your family’s destruction.

Daemon steps forward, descending from the ramparts toward the courtyard where Sheepstealer waits. The dragon's great amber eyes follow him, unblinking. There's an intelligence there, a knowing that cuts through the air like a dagger.

"She fought bravely," Simon says, though his tone is hollow, lacking any conviction.

Daemon scoffs, the sound bitter. "Bravery? It was madness. The girl was bound to die the moment she swore that oath."

"You are one to speak of madness, prince." Simon’s voice hardens, a rare defiance in it, but Daemon only grins, a twisted, humorless smile.

"And yet, I still stand."

The words hang in the air between them, as heavy as the clouds of smoke rising from Harrenhal’s ruins. Daemon stops just short of Sheepstealer, his eyes locking with the dragon’s once more. He can feel the raw power of the creature, the pain that mirrors his own. Sheepstealer had been with you through it all—the fierce bond you shared had been envied, even among your own kin. And now, with your death, the dragon stands alone.

"She died trying to kill him, didn’t she?" Simon asks, though he already knows the answer.

Daemon gives a curt nod. "Larys Strong will not be easy to find now. He’s as slippery as a shadow in the night."

"That worm," Simon growls. His hand tightens once more on the pommel of his sword, though it’s more out of frustration than any desire for action. There’s nothing to be done now. It’s over. "She would have made a fine queen... had things been different."

Daemon’s eyes flicker with something dark and unreadable. "She was never meant for a crown. Too much of her father in her."

Silence falls again, the weight of the castle pressing down upon them both. Sheepstealer growls low, sensing the tension in the air, the grief that lingers in the stone itself. The dragon looks toward the entrance of the keep, as if expecting someone to walk out and take command, but no one comes.

"Will you tell him?" Simon asks quietly.

Daemon’s smile fades completely, and for a moment, he looks weary—older, burdened by the countless losses that have marked his long life. "No. Let the dragon keep his illusions for a little longer. He’ll find out soon enough."

With that, Daemon turns his back on the dragon, the courtyard, and the weight of yet another death added to the blood-soaked history of his family. Simon watches him go, feeling the same heavy resignation settle in his bones.

Sheepstealer lets out one last mournful cry, the sound echoing through the empty halls of Harrenhal. The dragon knows too now. You are gone, taken by fire, just as your father before you. The Strong bloodline is broken, and vengeance has consumed yet another soul.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry for the delay folks xx

masterlist

now i wish we’d never met ‘cause you’re too hard to forget while i’m cleaning up your mess i know he’s taking off your dress and i know that you don’t but if i ask you if you love me i hope you lie to me

Bucky Barnes was a great many things, a paradox in a single man, many opposite things to different people. For some he was an angel, charity driven and ready to sacrifice himself for everything and everyone. For others, he was a demon, someone who was power driven, filled with the need for success and stepping on anyone he needed to be the first and the best. No matter what both thought, all agreed on one thing - Bucky Barnes was one hell of a charmer. He’d gotten that from his mother - old high class British charm, his father used to say. That combined with his looks made him irresistible to most people. Everyone flocked to him, everyone except for Y/N. She’d vanished from his side a bit later into the night and he hadn’t seen her since. Each time he thought to look for her, someone would need him or catch his attention.

Even with all that, he couldn’t find her. Y/N was an eye catching woman, she was beautiful and if she were anywhere near he would’ve found her. Instead, she was nowhere to be found and he was starting to get annoyed. He wanted to spend the evening with her, or at least he had intended to spend the evening with her, introducing her to the right people who could help her. He continued listening to whoever was talking to him right now - truth was, he wasn’t even sure who that person was. He just usually smiled and kept up simple talks, that was what was required of him so he would gladly keep doing it as long as it yielded results.

As for Y/N, she had almost forgotten who she was here with. Christopher Davis was someone who she always could picture herself with. He was smart, well spoken, well mannered and seemed to have an interest on her. Besides, he had gone through the same thing as her back at Columbia.

      - I’m just saying Professor Williams is a pain. - Chris laughed as Y/N explained what her supervisor had said. - If Professor Anderson likes you then you must be a bright student.  

      - Or maybe I’m just really daft. 

      - I don’t think so. - he smiled. - Sergeant Barnes doesn’t employ someone who doesn’t have promise. 

      - Except I don’t work for him ... I mean, not like you work for him, I’m just an au pair. I reckon the only criteria was are you a threat and are you good with children. 

      - How is it working with Sergeant Barnes if you don’t mind me asking?

Chris looked at her and then back at James whom he didn’t notice had been staring them down until now. He sighed, putting on his best smile, after all, he was trying to impress this girl. 

     - He’s uptight and a bit controlling but I guess you have to be if you want things to run smoothly. Specially when you work in advertising. 

     - That’s most CEOs isn’t it?

     - Yes but James Barnes is .. different. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a disgruntled employee. 

     - That is fine. Sergeant Barnes has got me on my nerves every once and again?

     - Is that so? - Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around to face her boss. She wasn’t afraid of him per say, but she also knew, she just knew he would probably be pissy for the rest of the evening. - Good evening Y/N, Mr. Davis. 

     - I will see you tomorrow, Y/N. - Chris smiled at the au pair.

To say Y/N was over the moon was a massive understatement. He liked her, at least she thought he liked her enough to invite her out. She didn’t think she still had it within her, she was usually busy looking over Sadie or with her postgraduate studies - that didn’t give her enough time to think about her sex and love life. That being said, maybe that explained why she was having the weird dreams and fantasies about James; familiarity. Right? It had to be that.

Bucky on the other hand felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Chris was ... well, he didn’t know that much about Chris other than he came from money yet he couldn’t even blame him from that since he had come from money as well. He was just boring, Bucky found him boring. He didn’t take risks, at least not enough risks for someone who worked at advertising. He played it safe. It worked, but it wasn’t revolutionary. Still, Bucky didn’t like him. He definitely didn’t like him for Y/N either. Y/N was smart, innovative, caring and another bunch of positive adjectives which were too long to list. Chris was just boring.

     - So how’s that lady? - Y/N broke the silence between the two of them, a bit tipsy on the champagne which she wasn’t used to drinking.

     - What lady?

     - Delilah? - she looked up through her dizzy, tipsy mind, before snapping her fingers. - Delia. Yeah, that’s her name. How is Delia?

     - You would know if you weren’t busy flirting with my employees. 

     - Oh so you can flirt but I can’t?

     - Not when you’re with me. You’re embarrassing yourself and humiliating me.

     - But I’m not here with you, am I, sergeant? I am not your date, am I?

     - No. - he smiled forcefully. - However if I were going to flirt with someone I would pick someone less boring. 

     - You work in advertising, Sergeant. Everyone is boring. 

(...)

Bucky had never spent a whole night alone with Sadie, not when she was awake. Yet, here he was, left behind by his au pair so she could go and date boring Chris while he had to deal with a very hyper Sadie who was running around as if it wasn’t 8 o’clock yet. He usually had a babysitter or he had Y/N, or Steve yet right now he was by his lonesome. He thought she would’ve settled down if he played princesses, yet, she did not. Instead Bucky now had knotted hair, glitter on his face and probably some on his eye and permanent marker on his neck. He had finally given up and done the worse thing in the eyes of every parenting book - he’d given her a tablet loaded with all the Bluey seasons. Meanwhile he’d taken to watching re-runs of Mad Men. 

     - Bed? - he asked the curly haired ginger who looked up at him, her hair in front of her face. - I’ll give you 10 dollars?

     - No. - she replied before looking back at her tablet. Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Soon the terrible twos would be done and he’d have the terrifying threes. 

    - 20 dollars? - he said once again but she ignored him. He sighed, how come Y/N managed to do this? - Sadie, you can either go to bed or you can be tired tomorrow and not go to the park with Y/N. Choose. 

She looked at him with the death stare which she had inherited from him, but eventually got up, grabbing his hand. Bucky smiled, picking her up and walking to her bedroom. He pushed the sheets from her bed, carefully rolling her to her mattress before tucking her in, handing her a Bingo plushie. 

    - You want a story, babe? - he asked her, brushing her curls away from her forehead. - No?

    - Light?

    - I’ll turn your little moonlight on. - he kissed her forehead. - I love you, Sisi bug. 

She smiled at him and it was enough for him to know she meant she loved him too. He tucked her once more before turning off the main light, leaving the room softly lit by the nightlight. Slowly and softly he went up the stairs, grabbing a wick basket and started collecting toys onto it. She had too many toys, still he wouldn’t stop buying them. As he finished it, Bucky sat back down on the couch. He was annoyed. Why did she even go out with that prick? The only thing they had in common was an alma matter and god knows Chris was a legacy student so it wasn’t like he tried as hard to get into university like Y/N had. God, he hated him. Hated how bland and boring he was. 

He toyed around with the remote, trying to find something that would get his head out of the idea of goddamn Christopher Davis trying to get her out of the practically translucent dress she had been wearing. Bucky could swear she did it on purpose, just to show off to him in those strap heels and short sheer black dress like a temptress. He changed channels once more, hoping he’d find something ... maybe a pay per view porn channel or something. Yet nothing took his mind of his au pair, his employee who he should have some professionalism with, and that stupid lacy bra he could make out under that dress. Dressing up like that for goddamn Davis. 

He stared at his phone, watching as hours passed yet nothing fulfilled. Eventually, Bucky made a mistake, a huge, massive mistake. A mistake which fulfilled itself as he opened the door to show Delia. He handled things badly but right now he needed his fill. 

His lips attacked hers as they stumbled towards the bedroom, Bucky locking the door behind him. This was a bad habit, a terrible habit but her lips felt good, her taste was tempting and Bucky wasn’t the one to have good habits. However, today, things were ... different. Her lips leaving lipstick marks on his neck didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t really have a woman in the house when his daughter was asleep upstairs. 

   - Are you alright? - Delia pulled away from him.

Bucky blinked, he had to be going ... stir crazy. Maybe he’d drank a bit too much whiskey but her features morphed and he could swear that in place of the woman he usually called whenever he needed release, stood the woman he wanted to be here now. The sheer dress a vivid memory in the back of his mind. He ignored her question, moving to kiss her neck and putting his hand over her mouth. His fantasies took full front stage as his mind drew a different reality.

All he could see was her, red lips open wide with soft, high pitched moaned as he kissed down her body, doing away with her dress and her underwear. He wanted to mark her, he wanted to mark this vision of a woman he craved. His hands found the top of his joggers, pushing it down as if he were a horny mess. His cock was painfully hard, slapping against his stomach as he stood over her, this vision of Y/N. All he could think of were all the times she saw her, the outline of her breasts, her collarbones. He didn't pace himself, instead lining up with the woman's entrance before he gripped her hips and slide himself in, without much a second of though. The feeling made him grown, he was insane he reckoned, insane because he knew this wasn't her but all he could see is her. The soft moans, the contracted muscles. He fucked her hard and rough until he felt his release approach. Once he did, he slide himself off, jerking off and coming on her stomach, rolling to the side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan of the guest bedroom, his mind lulling him back to reality ... all he could think when that moment was once simple thing - Fuck Chris Davis. 

(...)

Y/N didn’t spend the night. He noticed that in the morning as he was getting prepared from work and saw her walk in, with her dress crimped and hair barely brushed. His blood bubbled. If she wanted to fuck old money, she could’ve fucked him. 

    - Had your release? - he knew he was being mean now, just looking to stir the pot. - Fun night?

    - Why? Need some new jerking off material? - she crossed her arms, speaking in a manner and language that almost made him spit his coffee. - Who’s taking Sadie to school?

    - Well, if you can still walk I’d say he did a pretty shit job, huh?

    - I guess I’m taking Sadie to school. - she rolled her eyes. - And it’s none of your business.

    - Well my employee is fucking another one of my employees. Maybe you should go to HR. 

    - Maybe I should and tell them that the boss is acting like an ass. Are you seriously still upset at me that I flirted with someone at your weird benefit? I’m single, I’m allowed to flirt!

    - Not with Chris Davis. Seriously, Y/N, get a better taste in men. 

    - Because you have such a great taste in women. - she poured herself a cup of coffee. - Since you’re dressed, maybe you should take Sadie to school and see your favourite ego boosting group the PTA mums. 

    - Maybe I will.

    - Picking Sadie up from school or do you want me to?

    - Steve’s picking her up.

    - Steve?

Steve. 

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