#i like my own drawing so much that I've been staring at it every time...

[hyliasboy]

he just wants to be ebil with the violet boy...

[ghouljams]

Courting (Letters from Lt. Riley)

tags: regency au, Ghost x f!reader/OC, courting, letters, Ghost flirting and also being so weird with it, courting gifts

summary: You told Ghost he could write you. He does.

The maids drop off the letter while you're in the study. The wax seal on the front is unbroken, which you find strange. Aren't parents normally supposed inspect courting letters? You suppose you should be thankful your mother isn't a noble by birth, she doesn't have the same care for propriety you know others do. She's always maintained that love is for the people involved and no one else. Though, love is a far stretch for your feelings as far as you're concerned.

Ghost seems to go out of his way to aggravate and annoy you. You will say... you've never enjoyed conversations quite so much as you enjoy them with him, and you've never had a man entertain your debating so well, and you suppose his eyes are rather warm and honeyed enough to catch attention. You like that you can see the curve of his lips under his mask when he smiles, and that the lines beside his eyes crease when he looks at you. And you like his hands, you suppose, if you had to pick something.

You break the seal of the letter and unfold the thick paper. There's a thin sheet of silver paper covering the actual writing and you scoff at the precaution. Surely the man isn't saying anything so scandalous as to need more protection from prying eyes. Still, you're careful removing the tissue-y layer.

Your breath catches in your throat, fingers hovering to trace carefully over the lines of charcoal covering the page. It dirties your glove and you're quick to avoid touching the paper directly, lest you sully the careful work of portraiture. It's you, your profile staring determined off into the distance, a slight frown on your lovingly shaped lips and a gentle crease to your brow. You wonder what your charcoal double must be thinking to have such an expression. You recognize the necklace he's haphazardly rendered, a gift from your mother you wore at the first party of the season.

How long has he been thinking of you?

There's tight cursive at the bottom of the page, "I have nothing to say, except that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. -Lt. Riley"

Your heart flutters so hard, batters so aggressively against your rib cage, that you don't even notice the heat in your cheeks. You call rush to find pen and paper to write back.

-

You're having breakfast with your parents when the maid brings you a letter. You recognize the red wax seal immediately and slide your fingers under the paper's fold to break it quickly. The crack of wax fills the silent room, and you look up from your work to see your parents watching you. You father rests his chin on his laced fingers, and your mother quietly sips her tea. The letter is carefully placed to the side and your mother smiles, setting down her cup to draw one of your father's hands into her own grip.

"Don't let us keep you," You father rumbles, you can't tell if he's upset or pleased. His voice carefully neutral.

"It can wait until after breakfast," You tell him peaceably, picking up your fork again.

"Give it a read now dear, you'll upset your stomach rushing through meals." Your mother, ever the doctor, encourages. You tamp down your smile and unfold the letter, your fingers feeling for another sheet of silver paper. You're almost disappointed not to find one. You suppose you can't expect a gift of that quality every time. Once again the actual letter is short and neatly penned,

"Arguing with me won't make me march down there princess. Not that the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but I'd be gone as soon as I saw you, lost as soon as you opened your mouth. You make me lose all rational thought, and yet you consume my every waking moment. There is no distance I could travel that I would not still be haunted by the memory of you. If I'd never been assigned to your escort I would have been a saner man, miserable for never having known you. Argue with that.

Did you miss every one of your penmanship lessons?

Lt. Riley"

You smile to yourself, your thumb rubbing against the paper. He's pressed little flowers into the folds, their colors bleeding into the page and their petals falling into your lap. You pluck them carefully from your skirt, dutifully avoiding thoughts of your suitor, and place them back in the folds of Ghost's letter. You'll have to write him later, you know he's egging you on, but really he should know better than to criticize a lady's calligraphy.

You look up from your work and meet your parent's stares. Your mother's thumb rubs against the back of your father's hand, you've always hoped for a match like theirs.

"Something nice?" Your mother asks, and you smile at her.

"Never," You tell her, "Lieutenant Riley is as rude in his letters as he was as an escort."

Your father hums, but you think you see the edge of a smile under his beard.

-

There's very little awkwardness in the letters between you and Ghost. He writes better than he speaks, but the bluntness is still there, the charm that made you first agree to this courtship. He makes your stomach clench, makes your heart flutter. He's rude and argumentative, and you find yourself hoping for every letter he sends you.

He's sweet.

He's terrible.

You hide his letters under your pillows, the ones that talk about kissing you, "Everywhere but your mouth," he writes, "so that I can still hear you." You sit on the chaise and chew your thumb reading the letters that promise you devotion, "you'd never worry where I was, I never wish to stray from your side." You hear your friends discussing suitor gifts, the scandalous things that pass through their aunt's inspection first, that their fathers shake their head at.

You think of the modesty panel laced into your stays, the carefully inked words along the edge of the gift, "if my lips were here they'd never leave."

You pluck Ghost's letter from the tray before your maid can even offer it. Your fingers quick to break the wax seal before you even find a place to sit. He never writes as much as you do, but he's purposeful with his words in a way that makes your heart sing.

"If it's the Scot I think it is your friend is fine. We can discuss when I pick you up this afternoon. Wear walking shoes. Love, Lt. Riley"

You snort, quite a way with words your lover. You nearly trip on your way up the stairs staring at his signature. "Love" be still your heart.

[youngtacoes]

Strangers, no more

Cooper Howard aka The Ghoul x f!reader

Author's note: this is a long one !! i've had this scenario in my head for a long ass time and i just had to get it out on paper. cooper isn't as cruel in this one, sorry if that's not your thing, but he can be soft sometimes too! fyi: reader is 18+ and everything is consensual! If you're only here for the smut you can skip toward the end.

Word count: 6,8k

Summary: Cooper is a bounty hunter struggling for caps and you need to be transported safely across the wasteland in "good condition", luckily it pays well. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ Mentions of r*pe, impregnation & torture, religious cult, angst, virgin!reader, losing virginity, graphic smut

~

It was getting bad, really damn bad. Days of good-for-nothing bounty jobs, vial after vial, cough attack after cough attack. He needed the caps desperately if he was to keep himself from turning feral anytime soon. He’d been taking small jobs here and there, just enough to keep himself at bay for a few days, but he knew he couldn’t keep going at this rate for much longer. He needed a bigger job, a bigger cash prize, a bigger bounty, but every time he stopped by the wall of people with prizes attached to them, he found himself disappointed in how low the numbers were. That is until he notices a fresh face staring back at him, hidden behind newer posters, large letters displayed across. "BIG JOB", and this one has an even larger number attached.

He steps forward, pushing the other posts away and rips the new face off the wall to study the number closer. Yup, he read it right.

Five thousand caps.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered.

A young girl, maybe in her 20s. She looks well put together, innocent, and has a sincere smile on her face. For the first time in a very, very long time, he found himself wondering what her story was and why she was worth so damn much, but he didn’t like to dwell on it for too long. A job is a job, and this was going to be worth every damn cap.

On the poster, it states that she was to get picked up at the coordinates provided and to keep her in "good condition". Well, shit, that might just be the hardest part. The ghoul had never been one to take care of his captives, and most often he preferred if the poster stated "good dead or alive". This was definitely going to be different, and if it wasn’t for the "good condition" detail, he’d almost think it was too good to be true. Perhaps even think it was a trap.

~

It’s midnight, and you’re seated by your desk with a pen in hand, drawing carefully and concentrated on making art on this dirty sheet of old newspaper, but it was good enough for you. You drew flowers and insects from an old pre-war book about nature and their hidden treasures. You were always fascinated by the pre-war times, and though you will never know what it was truly like, you liked to imagine who you would’ve been back in those times.

It’s your way of forgetting about the current state of your life and the predicament you found yourself in. You were born in the wasteland, to a mother who did her best to protect you, but in the end, she had been brutally murdered by a group of raiders who attacked your farm, and you were taken captive by them at the age of 9. You spent a few horrid days with them before your current group found you and bought your freedom from them.

To be fair, you’ve been treated quite well by this group, and you thought you had a family in them at one point. That was until a few months ago when they decided you needed to be isolated from the rest for reasons you still didn’t quite understand. The leader of the group, Margot, had carefully selected you for a special assignment, and made sure to tell you the isolation was for your own good. Apparently you needed special treatment before a long journey to a sacred place called Halfway that was waiting for your arrival.

Your fellow peers would come and visit you to show their excitement, though you didn’t quite understand it, it must be something good with all the positive buzz that’s surrounding you. So your head got filled with all sorts of scenarios and dreams of where you were going and what luxuries you were to experience on this assignment. Though you had your doubts that it was all just a coverup for something else, you didn’t have any reason not to trust your group. They had been nothing but kind to you as long as you’d been there.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by heavy knocks on your locked door and a command shouted from behind.

"Lights out!"

You sigh at the command. "Yes madam!"

You don't bother packing up your drawing supplies, you'll be continuing with it tomorrow anyway, and the day after, probably. You find your bed and blow out the nearby candles.

Every night you can't help but wonder when your assignment and journey would begin. You had all sorts of feelings and questions about it, but every time you tried talking to Margot, she would give you answers that didn’t really answer anything at all, so you gave up on trying to figure it out a long time ago.

~

The next morning you’re awaken rudely by the guards coming into your room and practically dragging you out of bed in your dazed state.

"Wha- HEY-" you try to muster what’s going on, but before even getting a word out, you’re on your feet and Margot stands before you with her hands on her back.

"Morning lucky one. It’s time, the day we have waited long for is finally here," She's so serious in her delivery, it almost frightens you.

It’s happening.

"We’ve hired someone to transport you safely across the wasteland for your assigment, they’re here and won’t be kept waiting. Get ready in 5 and say your goodbyes, quickly."

Suddenly it feels like it’s all happening too fast, and a slight panic rise inside you. Margot must've notices your panicked stare, cause her features soften, and she steps closer to you.

"You’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you,» She smiles at you with encouragement, "This is your moment, and I know you will succeed and make us all proud."

Her words give you enough to calm down before the panic escalated. And you give her a nod that you indeed got this. You can do this. You’ve done hard things before, this shouldn’t be any different.

"Yes madam," you say smiling back at her. She flashes you one last smile and a wink before turning and walking back out.

Outside you find everyone from your group waiting in the corridors. They smile at you, some coming to greet you, give you kisses on the cheek as you’re led out of the main building by the guards. It’s all a bit much, but this must be pretty big deal. Margot waits for you by the gate to your commune, but she's not alone. A dark figure stands just outside, looking impatient.

You’re filled with scepticism as you walk up them, but you have to put your trust in her. She notices you and takes a hold of your hands with a smile.

"You will do great," And the wave of panic that had a hold of you before, washes off of you completely. You nod confidently now, and you start believing that this is actually gonna be totally fine.

You feel the dark figure moving closer to you, his hat covering his face just enough to keep him anonymous for the time being. He still looks terrifying, but you have to trust this man is here only to protect you on your journey to Halfway, and that he will do his best to do so.

Margot shoots the man one last look, "Good condition," the man still doesn’t show his face, but he nods.

"Yes ma’am. Let’s go princess," You realize he’s talking to you, and you’re startled by the nickname at first, but you decide not to fuzz, at least not yet. He’s already started walking away, so you find yourself running up behind him, waving back to your leader for the last time, only she doesn’t wave back, she doesn’t even flash a smile. She stares back at you with a stern look as the gates to the commune come to a close.

It doesn’t give you the best feeling, but perhaps she was feelings sad you were leaving and didn’t want to show any emotions. Either way, you try to push the sight out of your mind, doing your best to follow the stranger. He doesn’t say a word for a long time, and you find that maybe it’s best we keep to ourselves for the time being, but as an hour or so go by, you find yourself a little curious.

You clear your throat, "Excuse me, sir?"

He doesn’t reply, but shoots a quick look over his shoulder to indicate that he’s listening.

"How long do you think we’ll be walking for?"

Given that Margot had given you absolutely no information about this journey, you figured it was worth a shot to ask your new strange companion.

"Couple’a days, if we don’t get sidetracked," His voice ragged, western, serious.

"Oh," not really sure if you dared asking for further details. You’d prefer to keep it peaceful for as long as possible, but you find the courage to ask anyway.

"Sidetracked by what?"

You hear him sigh, "Unnecessary bullshit."

‘Whatever that means’ you think to yourself. He doesn’t seem like the talkative type, but after months of isolation you find yourself rather desperate for someone to talk to, and if you are to spend days with this man, you figure it’s worth a shot trying to get to know him for whatever time you have to spend together.

"I see.. I’ll be on the lookout for that I suppose."

You can barely believe your ears when you hear a chuckle coming from the stranger in front of you.

After that positive feedback, you find yourself braver.

"I didn’t catch your name?"

His posture changes after the question left your mouth.

"I didn’t give to ya,"

"Well, I’m Y/N, but everyone calls me Lucky. It’s a bit of a recent nickname though. You see, I just spend 6 months in completely isolation-"

You get cut off abruptly when you find yourself crashing into the strangers back, realizing he's come to an complete halt. He turns around, his figure towering slightly over you. His hat is no longer doing it’s job to cover his face, and utter horror washes over you as it's fully visable in the golden hour light.

"Listen sweetheart, I’m here to do this goddamn job. I don’t wanna hear your whole life story, and you sure as hell won’t be hearing mine. How about we keep our histories to ourselves and try to get this over with as quickly as fucking possible. That sound good to you?"

Your eyes aren’t able to leave his face. His sunken eyes, skin looking like it's been melted by the sun, an obvious nose missing. A ghoul, a ghoul is transporting you. You’ve not met a ghoul before, and those you’ve heard stories of have been grotesque. Fair enough they had been feral, but who’s to say this one won’t turn?

You get the gist of what he’s saying, and simply nod in agreement, not wanting to make this trip any more uncomfortable than it already is.

His eyes bore into your own, and he’s a lot closer than you’d prefer. For a second you think his eyes dart down to your lips before he turns around to keep walking, but that would be crazy, and very disturbing.

~

Nightfall comes fast, and you’re finding yourself worried for where you’ll be sleeping for the night. You really don’t wanna ask the ghoul, but your steps are getting shorter and slower, and you think the Ghoul have noticed cause he starts walking off track and leads you to a broken down abandoned house off the road.

"Stay here," he says before entering the house, gun up, ready to shoot. You do as he says and wait patiently for him to clear the coast. It doesn’t take long before you hear squealing and two shots being fired. You’re not sure whether to go in or run, but it doesn't matter anyway cause you freeze up completely in these situations. All you can do is hope that the ghoul knows what he's doing.

He comes back to the door a few minutes later, gesturing for you to come in, you’re hesitant, but you do. It's not like you have much of a choice anyway, "What was the shooting about?"

In his left hand he holds a dead radroach, and you find yourself wondering why he’s holding it. That's so fucking gross.

"You should be grateful. I got us some lunch the road," he says, flashing you a smirk. It's almost like he knew you’d be repulsed by it.

"Uhm, y’know what? I think I’m good, for the time being." You try to be nice, but you feel like you might not have a say in the matter. This might be the only food you get for a while.

"Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make a fire and we’ll put it on the grill."

You want to roll your eyes and complain, but you force yourself to give him a smile and if anything, show some appreciation. He did in fact just catch you a meal.

You’re able to swallow some of the grilled radroach, but after the fresh foods you had grown accustomed to from your commune, you found this hard to stomach.

Nightfall has fallen completely now, and you’ve done your best to make a comfortable sleeping spot by the fire. The ghoul sits nearby keeping watch, and you find yourself very curious of his past and who he is, or who he used to be. Thinking back to his speech earlier about keeping your histories to yourselves reminds you not to ask, but he didn’t say anyting about asking about where you were going.

"What do you know about Halfway?" You watch him closely for any hints he migth give away, "Is it as grand as everyone makes it out to be?" You lay on your side, arm resting under your head.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixated on the fire. "How about you get some rest, alright?" he avoids your question. How annoying.

You turn to lay on your back with a puff of annoyance. «Nobody wants to tell me anything,"

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

You turn to look at him, his eyes still not meeting yours. "What is that supposed to mean?" By the sound of it, nothing good.

"Look it's not my job to inform you of shit, and if your leader wanted you to know, trust me darling, she would've told ya."

His eyes flicker up to look directly at yours this time, and it catches you off guard. Not knowing what else to say, you decide to turn to your side, away from him. This whole thing is giving you a really bad feeling.

You’re back on track the next day. Your legs sore from the day before. Having been in isolation for 6 months will do that to you, you guessed, but you'll manage.

The ghoul hasn't said a word yet today, and though you didn't exactly get the answers you were looking for last night, you refused to give up completely.

"What did Margot mean when she said good condition?"

He doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t. You sigh,

"Look, I don’t mean to be annoying. Truly, I’d just like to know what is waiting for me. That’s all, and I really don't see the harm in that." Still nothing.

"Hey! It’s not kind to ignore someone when they're talking to y-" The ghoul quickly turns, a rope firm in his hands. Where did that come from? He grabs your hands, tying them together before you’re able to protest.

"Hey- what’re you doing!?" You look at him in disbelief, anger and panic all in one.

"Trust me, it’s for your own good," You laugh at that, yeah right. Before you’re able to mock him, he takes out a piece of cloth and wraps it around your head, specially over your mouth, and it's keeping you from saying what's on your mind. For a second you’re actually fearing for your life.

"Listen, gorgeous. We’re about to pass through some dangerous territory, and the people in these parts would do a lot to get their hands on a pretty litte thing like yourself. You follow my lead and keep your mouth shut, can you do that for me?"

You look for any lies in his eyes, but you genuinely believe him. It’s not like you can argue against him anyway, but you put your trust in him and give a nod in response.

You walk for a short while longer before you actually start seeing other people on your path. They seem rough around the edges. Hostile, but not aggressive, yet anyway. You walk past a few who seem to be intrigued, but not interested enough to take their chance at battle with the ghoul. That is until a few of them start gathering in front of you. Four men stand before your path, making it impossible to keep walking without confrontation.

"Gentlemen, how do you do?" The ghoul seems to do his best to keep it friendly, not wanting to create an unnecessary conflict with precious cargo at risk.

"What’ve you got for us ghoul?" As you observe, you can tell some of them are clearly on heavy combat inhancing chems, might be a harder fight if it comes down to it.

"Delivery, to Halfway. Can’t lose this one I’m afraid." He says it so confidently, completely standing his ground, but still keeping it non threatening. The men seem intrigued, and even exchange laughs between themselves. You wonder what they find so funny.

"That religious sacrifice place? What a lucky girl,"

"Seems like she’s up for a hell of a good time,"

"Fellas, if you don’t mind, we’re on a bit of a tight schedule," The ghoul tries to interrupt their 'friendly' chatter, but to no avail.

"They only take virgins up there don’t they? That’s like their whole point?" One of the guys ask the other three.

"Yeah, it’s some crazy religious cult. They torture them and impragnate them for like 10 years or something, or at least that’s what I’ve heard."

You freeze at their words. That can’t be it. That’s not what’s been told to you. They’re joking, making it up to scare you. It’s not true.

"Crazy rich though, you must be getting a lot of caps for this huh?" Suddenly their tone is not so friendly anymore, but the ghoul doesn’t budge. He keeps his hand on his holstered gun, the other holding the rope that binds your hands.

"Lucky for you, we’re not looking to take her off your hands. This time anyway," They laugh once more, patting the ghoul on his shoulder before walking off, letting you pass. He pulls on the rope to shake you out of your frozen state, and you jolst forward, trying to keep up with him. But you're disassociating, not paying a single mind to anything around you. You're too much in your head about what was just said, and you'd like to say you didn't believe a single word, but for some reason you do.

You keep walking in silence, time becomes irrelevant when you're all up in your head. You don’t notice the radstorm closing in, nor the rain that has already started pouring. If anything is in your favor, it's that you pass by a town with an abandoned pre-war hotel that offer a room for 100 caps a night. For whatever reason, the ghoul decides to do that for you. You don’t ask questions, you don't care to.

Soaked, shivering and your legs just barely keeping you up anymore, the ghoul places you down on the couch in the room given to you. You let him guide you, and for once, you're glad he doesn't have much to say. He lowers himself down in front of you and starts taking off the disgusting saliva soaked cloth from your mouth.

You wipe your mouth your hand, "Thank you."

He keeps his mouth shut and starts working on untying the rope from your hands. You watch him crouched before you, he's being gentle when removing the knots. A horrifying reminder of what you won't be experiencing at Halfway, if the men from earlier was telling the truth that is. This thought is what breaks you, and the tears start trickling down your tired face. There's no point holding it back anymore.

He's looking at you, so clearly trying to hide the concern on his face as he stands up and walks to the door.

"I’ll head down to the square to look for some food,"

Whatever.

Your silence is making him uncomfortable, so he leaves. You stay seated, replaying the words spoken between the men from earlier, over and over in your head.

Everyone you knew had made Halfway seem like such an amazing place. That you were lucky to be going, you were chosen. The thought makes you want to throw up.

You don’t register that the ghoul is back, fresh mutfruits placed in front of you on the coffee table, and though you are starving, you can’t bring yourself to even eat one.

"Eat," he says sternly. You just shake your head.

"M’not hungry," you sniffle, drying your tears with the palm of your hand.

"It’s not nice to lie, sweetheart. You haven’t had anything to eat since the damn radroach. Eat," He's trying to act concerned, but you don't believe it for a second. You scoff and look up to meet his eyes, and he’s looking right back at you, an annoyed expression on his face. You can’t believe this guy.

"Why do you care if I eat or not? Let me be," You're so tired, and all you want is to sleep. Gradually rising from the couch, you head towards the bed.

"Please," his plead makes you stop in your tracks.

"Please eat, you're really gonna need the strength," he seems desperate, almost.

You turn around to see him standing motionless by the coffee table, clearly attempting to compose himself.

"No," you're stern in your reply.

He's growing increasingly annoyed, angry even, because he knows he can't force you or harm you in any way.

"Whatever good condition means, I’m sure they'll be pleased as long as I’m alive, right?" Your voice gradually getting louder. "Being that their plan is to torture me for 10 years and all, they must have lots of stimpacks around to keep me alive enough to birth their whole next generation of psychos, don't you think?" Tears start falling.

"Don’t make me beg again," His eyes are shut, as if he's trying to block out your words, as if they affect him somehow. what a fucking joke.

"You’re so afraid you won’t get your paycheck. Well fuck you, and fuck the caps they’re paying you for this," you say it with so much pain and hatred, and you’re sure you’ll regret it later but you don’t have an inch of fuck to give at the moment.

Suddenly you see his angry features fall, and he catches himself in a cough. It's grotesque, and it seems to be getting worse with each one. He looks at you with disrepair, and you can tell he's struggling to catch his breath. You don't know what to do, but you're getting scared for him now. It looks horrifying, but before you're able to come to his aid, he scurries out the room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. What just happened? A part of you wanted to run after him to make sure he was okay, but at the same time you wouldn't mind too much if he left and never came back. Shaking, you decide to tuck yourself into the left side of the bed. Trying not to think about how dirty it is, you curl yourself into a ball and cry out every last drop.

You’re never able to fall asleep, the tears just keep coming. You thought about running away, but knowing that the ghoul was getting paid a lot for this job, he would likely find you again in no time. What would be the point?

Your sobs are suddenly interrupted by the door opening, and you quiet yourself down to listen closely to every sound. The sound of the ghouls boots scraping the floor as he makes his way to the couch, his coat and gear getting thrown down on it. You decide to pretend that you’re already asleep as you hear him make his way to the bed. Feeling it dip slightly as he lay down in it.

But your cover is blown when you sniffle from the snot in your nose. You damn yourself as a sigh from the stranger fills the room, and you start feeling embarrassed about the way you treated him earlier. It’s not him you should be angry at, if anything it’s Margot and your group. The ghoul is just doing his job, to collect a price which he must need desperately, you can’t really blame him. He owes you nothing.

"Cooper," his raspy voice turned soft for a second.

"What?"

"My name is Cooper, some call me Coop. Whichever rolls of your tongue the best."

You feel awful now, "I’m sorry," Wiping away the tears and the snot to the best of your ability.

"For what sweetheart?" He sounds like he already knows what you’re apologising for, but decides to ask anyway for his own amusement.

"For cursing you out, it’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t blame you," You say, already feeling better for apologizing.

You both stay silent for a while, only sniffles from your nose filling the room. It’s embarrassing, you feel like such a child.

"C’mere darling," He says it in such a soft way. You can barely believe your ears. Looking over your shoulders you see him looking at you, only the dim light of a burning candle nearby to light your surroundings. He’s on his back, gesturing with his hand for you to lay in the crook of his arm. You contemplate it for a second, but it doesn’t take much convincing if you’re being honest. You’d take any form of comfort to make you forget this whole thing, even for just a night.

You turn around, inching closer under the sheets, finding a comfortble spot in the crook of his neck, your head resting on his arm. You’ve never been this close to someone except your mom when you were younger. It’s scary in a way, being this vulnerable and intimate with someone you barely know.

Your breaths are shallow, thoughts racing through your mind and it’s making your heart is beat so fast. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, his body doesn’t give anything away.

You lay like this for a while, just a few dry sniffles and breaths heard between you. You recognize the closeness of him.

But you want to get even closer. You want him wrapped around you and have him absorb your whole being. It may come from having learned that you have extreme trauma waiting for you, and you can’t help but want to experience something good and genuine before that.

Your breaths become heavier, deeper, and you feel yourself wanting something; wanting him. This could go terribly wrong, but what exactly do you have to lose? Fuck it. You push away the what if's and inch your face closer to Cooper’s neck, your hands find themselves carefully making their way to his chest. He doesn’t react, and from what you can tell, he doesn't seem to mind.

You see his breathing stop, and you’re feeling brave. So you test the waters, gently sliding your hand up to his chest, letting them glide across his shirt. While your lips carefully grace the rough skin on his neck. You hear him puff out the air he’s been holding in while curiously letting letting you wander, but he doesn’t seem to resist.

When he doesn’t stop you, it’s easy to find the courage to keep going. Your hand wanders further down his chest, stomach, but he catches your hand right before it reaches the hem of his pants.

"What do you think you’re doin'?" He doesn't sound disappointed, more so curious. You feel a bit embarrassed, but you stand your ground, like you've already stated, you’ve got nothing to lose.

"Please Coop," just a whisper in his ear, "Please show me what it’s meant to feel like", a plea, practically begging.

He can’t help but let out a low growl, obviously turned on by the thought. "I’m meant to deliver you as a virgin, sweetheart."

You want to cry again, a sob brewing deep in your throat. "Please, they won’t know- They won’t find out," Your lips find his neck again, leaving trails of kisses up to his jawline, tongue swirling along the rough surface. You never thought you would find yourself in this position 2 days ago, but here you were, begging for a bounty hunter, a ghoul, to take your virginity.

Lucky for you, he seems to be out of fucks to give and lets go of your hand after only a few seconds of thinking it over. You don’t hesitate to let your free hand go under his shirt to feel his skin. It’s so textured, but you don’t mind. You’ve never touched anyone this way before, there wasn't much to compare it to.

Your hand travel lower until it finds a buldge. Being that this is your first time being intimate with somone, you’re startled by the unfamiliarity of it at first. But it doesn't take you long to realize that you were the reason for his cock hardening, and that turned you on more than anything.

Cooper, who's been laying still for some time now, has clearly been contemplating if he should stop this whole ordeal or not. He wants to touch you so bad, show you how good he can make you feel. Have you shaking with pleasure because of him, but he seems to let you be in control for the time being. You didn't mind, and it gave you some reassurance that this wouldn't be rushed, nor that he would force you to do something you didn't want to.

Your hands are shaking at this point as you try to unbotton his pants, and Cooper can't help but to give you a hand in your already broken state. You’re eager, and waste no time removing your own.

"Get over here darlin'," he says with that gentle voice again, gesturing for you to straddle his hips. His length is exposed now, and you feel yourself getting nervous with anticipation. You find it hard to believe that he's gonna fit inside you, it seems impossible.

Yet, you gain the confidence to sit up and make your way across his lap. You're not sure where to sit specifically, but you want to study him further and therefore straddle his thighs. His cock in view in front of you, laid across his stomach, stiff and drooling. Cooper doesn't say anything, but he watches you carefully, wondering what your next move will be. You don't pay attention to him for now.

You do however find yourself curious, and grab the length in front of you. It's warm, and you circle a thumb across the top where it's drooling a clear liquid. You hear him hum under you, an approval of the gesture you just performed. Butterflies take over your stomach, and you feel throbbing in your lower area. You want his cock so desperately inside you now, just to hear those sounds from him again.

"Sit up for me'," the gruffness of his voice draws your attention to him. You obliged without hesitation, "Scoot closer," and you do, of course you do.

He stretches a hand down between your thigs and you're on your knees straddling his hips. Rough fingers run between your folds and they run smoothly.

"Well fuck me, you really want this huh?" He's teasing you now. You nod frantically.

"Use your words sweetheart," He inserts a finger in your untouched hole. You gulp at the sensation, "Yes- yes I do-".

He hums again, moving the finger inside you, bending and stroking. It feels strange, but not painful. "I know you do honey, but I need to make sure you can handle me first, alright?"

You nod frantically, you knew already that you were prepared to do anything he wanted. "Yes, sir,"

Without warning he adds another finger, and it's starting to sting a little. You try to control your breathing as he starts moving them in and out of you, "I know it hurts baby, but it's only for a lil while. You trust me, don't you?"

You nod again, "Yes- Fuck!" He was getting agressive with it now, but he's hitting a spot you didn't know existed and it's sending you to other dimensions in your mind. Your eyes are rolling back while his fingers work hard between your thighs. It's unlike anything you've felt before.

"There we go.. You're gonna be so good for me aren't you, princess?" His words barely register as you find yourself gripping his arm and holding on for dare life to not lose your balance.

"Mhm- y- yes," and before you knew it, his hand is removed from between your folds and you're left heaving for your breath and trying to focus your vision again.

"I think you know what to do, darlin'," You need him badly now, even more now that you know what pleasures are waiting.

You place yourself over his cock, and Cooper watches in patiently as he puts his hands on your thighs, stroking them gently.

You grab his length and place it under your opening, ready to lower yourself on him. "Slow now," he warns as you as his tip meets your entrance, before letting it slip in just an inch. You both hiss, him with pleasure, you with pain.

"That’s it, doll," He keeps his eyes on you as you wince in pain. Taking deep breaths as your hole adjusts itself to his full size, but you’re feeling impatient and start pushing yourself even further despite the burning sensation. You figure it’s better to get it over with as fast as possible so you can actually start enjoying this.

Cooper hums, "Patience sweetheart," you lock eyes with him, and he genuinely seems to care. He lets you have complete control over this, not pushing any limits, and it makes you feel even more aroused, being in charge; seeing his eyes roll back with edged pleasure, yet doing nothing to force his way in.

You feel comfortable enough to start moving now, and you do your best not to squeal when you feel it burn and sting. Finally your skin touch, your ass gracing his thighs, and though it’s still stinging a bit, you can feel his whole length inside you, and it drives you mad.

"Just like that, princess," You hear his soft grunts below, and it reminds you to start moving. Slowly easing yourself off him, just to lower back down again, trying to find the right pace and angle for it to hit the right spot. It doesn't take long before you feel Cooper bucking his hips just ever so slightly to help you out, and he does. He knew exactly how to thurst his cock to give you the extreme pleasure you were searching for.

"More- please," you moan, your hands find his chest to lean on. Nails digging into his already ragged skin.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me, darling," His hips buck into you again, pulling himself almost all the way out before slamming himself back inside you. It's rough, and his hands have found your ass to grab to help move you to his rhythm. You're dazed, eyes barely open from sheer pleasure radiating deep inside you. It's making your breath hitched, and your moans spurt out in cries.

"My- fuckn'- god-" you struggle to draw a proper breath, your vision is blurred and rolled back, barely open.

He’s grunting with pleasure beneath you, seeing you completely lost to the way his cock fills your tight cunt, the next time rougher than last. You both sense that you're getting closer to an edge, and that’s when you realize how lightheaded you are, probably from the lack of food you’ve had today, and Coop notices how your figure slowly droops with exhaustion.

"Woah easy darling-" You feel him sit up under you, and without much effort he sits up and holds you tight to his chest, flipping you over on your back in a swift motion.

You would act surprised, but you’re too lightheaded and close to a climax that you don’t react at all. You feel his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavy and groaning into your ear as he pushes himself deep and steady inside you. Your moans are soft, almost silent, barely there, not enough energy to show him how good he’s making you feel. But you think he gets it, if anything he can see it in how your eyes roll back, how flushed your cheeks are, and feel how your walls are squeezing tightly around him.

"You gonna be a good girl and finish all over my cock, princess?" You feel a hand reach under your chin, placed firmy on your throat, a tight squeeze is applied as you feel his hot breath on your cheek. Sloppy kisses, and a traveling tongue, licking off all your sweat and tears. Having him so near and in control of your breathing makes you feel unbelievably hot. He could kill you right now, right at your high, and you wouldn't mind at all.

"I think I'm- Coop I'm gonna-," you’re whisper in his ear, and it only fuels him more.

He lifts your leg higher, hooking it over his free arm as he goes even deeper. "Show me how fuckin' good I make you feel, sweetheart,"

And with that you think you’re about to pass out, but instead you’re hit with the intense feeling of something combursting inside you. Your head slams back, and your hands reach up to grab the headboard of the bed, your knuckles turning white from the grip. You're dazed, exhausted, feeling the lingering pleasure from your orgasm still present inside your throbbing cunt. Cooper helps you ride out the orgasm in a slower pace while coming up close to his own.

"There you go doll, it's all right," His hand leaves your throat and he unhooks your leg to find your waist, placing them on each side. He's leaning back on his knees as he pumps himself into you, softly, slowly. Soft groans leaves his lips in heavy and hitched breaths as he gets closer.

Seeing you so beautifully dishevelled and limp beneath him, he starts guiding your exhausted body with his hands, pulling you onto his cock, using it to finish himself off. You allow him, cause you enjoy watching him his chest rise with every breath he takes. His eyes rolling back with pleasure from feeling your walls pulsate with each thrust, and with one last squeeze from you, he reaches his own climax.

His hands are grabbing your waist so tightly you can feel the bruises forming already, but all you can focus on is his heaving chest, and his exposed throat as his head is thrown back. Soft grunts and curses filling the room, and you imagine his eyes closed with painfully pleasurable bliss, all caused by you.

He rides out his own orgasm and tries to settle his breathing before he lifts himself off you. He doesn't look at you, but climbs tiredly out of the bed to readjust his clothing. You’re so sleepy, greasy, smelly, but you don't care. You're high, and happy.

You watch him at the edge of the bed, and you utter a soft 'Thank you', just to let him know you're grateful for risking the success of the job. You were meant to be delivered as a virgin after all.

You hear him chuckle from the foot of the bed, you guessed he’d never gotten a ‘thank you for fucking me’ from anybody before, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

"Close your eyes and get some sleep, alright?" Hell, he doesn’t need to tell you twice.

"I think that’s a good idea," You’re not really sure if the words ever left your mouth, being that you’re practically half asleep already. But you do notice the bed dipping slightly next to you, and how you’re gently being pushed on your side. Followed by something warm pressed up against your back, and gentle kisses being placed along your exposed neck.

What tomorrow brings doesn't matter in this moment.

Part 2?

[milswrites]

My Beautiful Girls

~ Cassian x SingleMum!Reader

Series masterlist

Summary: An anxious Cassian meets your daughter for the first time.

Warnings: Fluffy goodness

Notes: For the ultimate Cassian girly @sarawritestories

"Hi, I'm Cassian. It's nice to meet you!"

The Illyrian General smiled crookedly as he spoke, clammy hands trembling around the flowers trapped within his steel-like grip.

"Fuck . . . fuck . . . Come on Cas, you can do better than that."

Slowly unfurling his wings, Cassian lightly shook them in the hope of brushing away his steadily growing nerves.

"Breathe Cas, breathe" the male exhaled deeply, rolling back his tense shoulders before locking his determined eyes onto the closed door in front of him, "Hi, I'm Cassian! I've heard so much about you!"

A groan of frustration tore from Cassian's lips, shoulders slumping in dejection as he miserably dropped the flowers to his side.

Cassian had seen his fair share of carnage, having stared death in the face a plethora of times and still lived to tell the tale. Yet no battle, nor life-threatening experience, could have prepared him for the terror he felt in this moment.

The great Lord of Bloodshed riddled with fear at the prospect of meeting your sweet little girl, so only for her not to like him.

It was almost laughable, thinking back to how confident he was when you had first brought up the topic of him meeting your daughter. Cassian recalled flashing you a toothy grin, eyes bright and laugh carefree as he promised you that all children loved him. He was, after all, Nyx's favourite uncle.

Yet now, standing before the door to your home, Cassian wondered if he would ever find the courage to enter. Every possibility as to how this introduction could go wrong festered in the male's worrisome mind, until his poisonous thoughts left his wings twitching with the desire to fly away and hide from his fears.

But Cassian couldn't bring himself to flee, not if it meant losing you.

So here he stood, the icy winter air uncomfortably nipping at his wind-kissed cheeks, rehearsing exactly what it was he would say to your daughter when he first met her. Seeking to gain back some control in the face of his uncertain future.

Adamant that he would not be the one to ruin the one good thing in his life, Cassian drew in a long shaky breath before trying again, "Hi sweetheart, I'm so glad I get to finally meet you."

"Right back at you gorgeous"

If the sight of the Illyrian General practicing a mental script to recite to your five year old daughter didn't bring you to the brink of laughter, seeing the way he startled at your sudden appearance did.

Cassian stumbling backwards as you pulled open your door to great him, cheeks flushing a deep rouge as though you had just caught him in a compromising position.

It was only once your laughter had subsided, and the low grumblings of embarrassment from the male's lips had ceased, were you then able to greet him. Your warm lips coming to meet his own frozen ones in a soft kiss, the action working to further deepen Cassian's flustered blush.

An impatient shout from inside pulled you from your kiss, a light chuckle leaving both of your lips as you quickly glance inside to where your daughter was waiting, "She's been talking about this all day you know? I've never brought anyone home to meet her before, she's really excited."

Your gaze falls to Cassian who was drawing in deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Concern pooling in your eyes as you watched how his lips were stretched into an anxious smile which failed to meet his eyes.

"Hey, there's nothing to worry about," you reassured your partner, moving a soothing hand to rest against his cheek, "she'll love you just as much as I do."

Appreciation swam in Cassian's eyes, a soundless thank you falling from his lips before he raised a bouquet for you to take. Or rather two bouquets.

"For you and Evelyn" he nervously mumbled, awkwardly shuffling his feet as he waited for you to take the flowers, "I wanted to get her something nice but . . . I'm not actually sure what five year old's like."

"They're beautiful Cas" you spoke, tears of joy lined your eyes at the male's generosity as you placed a gentle kiss onto his cheek in thanks.

"Are you ready?" you asked whilst stepping aside, making space for Cassian to squeeze himself through your doorway, the male having to curl his wings in tightly in order to fit through the smaller entrance.

"Come on, bat boy. It's time for you to meet your new best friend."

Placing the flowers down onto a nearby console, you led Cassian through your home, softly calling out to Evelyn as you approached the room she was playing in, "Evie, there's someone here to see you."

The sound of tiny feet padding across the floor followed your words, Cassian curiously moving his gaze to the entrance of the room as he waited for your daughter to emerge.

Only his eyes didn't quite catch her face as the small girl barrelled right into the skirt of your dress, shyly hiding within the flowing material of your skirt. "Come on Eves" you encouraged warmly, a tender hand coming to rest against her back, "Aren't you going to say hello?"

A little head tentatively peered over the fabric of your dress, Evelyn's eyes widening as she took in Cassian's wings which imposingly filled the space of your corridor. The nervous girl squeaked a small hello in the General's direction before moving to hide behind the safety of your body once more.

Worried that his wings were too intimidating, Cassian drew them in tightly, bending his knees in order to lower himself to Evelyn's level before greeting the shy girl, "Hi Evie, I'm Cassian." The male allowed a bright smile to cross his face as he watched your daughter's curious eyes peer over the skirt of your dress at his introduction, "Your mum has told me everything about you."

Wanting to aid Cassian who was growing increasingly panicked at the prospect of having to break the ice with your timid daughter, you bent down to speak to her, "How about we go into the room so you can show Cassian your toys hmm?" With a sheepish nod, Evelyn takes your hand, hesitantly moving out from behind your skirt in order to lead you into the living room.

Cassian followed suit, standing from his crouch before moving to the door, only to be unpleasantly surprised upon discovering he was unable to fit through the small wooden frame. His large wings blocking him from entering the room.

Curling them in tighter, the male tried again, attempting to walk into the room once more only to be stopped by the thud of his wings against either side of the doorframe. Just as a frustrated curse was about to tumble from Cassian's lips, a melodic laugh pulled him from his anger.

And Cassian could have sworn it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

There stood Evelyn, in the middle of your living room, clutching her stomach as she laughed to her hearts content at Cassian's unfortunate situation.

It was impossible for him to be angry, Cassian's brows unfurrowing at the beautiful sound of her laughter, a deep chuckle of his own breaking from his mouth as he watched the young girl giggle. Love already growing in his eyes as Cassian wished to bottle the sound of her joy.

"Evie," you started in-between your cackling, "Why don't you help poor Cas get in?"

It took all his effort for Cassian not to melt when Evelyn padded over to him, cheeks still rosy from her laughter, and held out a tiny hand for him to take.

Making sure to move his wings into a position that would enable him to enter the room, Cassian took Evelyn's hand which was dwarfed by his own, allowing the girl to pull him into the room.

"My hero" Cassian sweetly grinned, crouching down to place a delicate kiss onto the back of your daughter's hand, "Either I'm going to need some smaller wings or your mum's going to have to get a bigger door."

Another round of giggles fell from Evelyn's lips at his words, her little hand still tucked into Cassian's palm, the girl shaking her head as she quietly spoke, "I like your wings just the way they are."

"Thank you" Cassian replied with a smile, cheeks dusting with a pink blush at her sweet compliment. "I like your dress" he replied, coming to lightly poke Evelyn's button nose which earned him an excitable squeal from the girl before her face adorably scrunched into a picture of curiosity.

"Can . . . can I touch them?" Evelyn shyly asked. Her question being met with sounds of protest from you, knowing just how sensitive Illyrian wings can be. Yet Cassian's answer surprised you, the male telling the girl yes without even an ounce of hesitation.

"Here" he softly spoke, taking Evelyn's hand which was still wrapped in his own and moving it towards a spot on his wing he knew wasn't as sensitive as the others.

Not wanting Cassian to feel obliged to do this just to keep your daughter happy you protested once more, "Cas you don't have to-"

"I don't mind sweetheart"

And as Evelyn's hand came to lightly press against the membrane of his wing, Cassian couldn't stop the spark of joy he felt at seeing the young girl smile. Knowing in his heart that despite this being their first introduction, the General would do anything and everything within his power to ensure your daughter's happiness.

It took everything in you not to cry at the sight of Cassian sating your daughter's curiosity. At the dazzling smile which was painted across his face as he looked at Evelyn with such love. A type of love you had only hoped she would one day get to experience, the love that only a father could provide.

“Can I mama? Can I please?” Evelyn’s begging voice broke you from your thoughts.

“Can you what sorry sweetheart?” You ask, wondering exactly what it was that left your daughter so eager for an answer.

“Can we go flying? Please, please, pleaseeee.”

Cassian grinned at you wickedly from behind where Evelyn was stood, shrugging his shoulders as he mimicked your daughter’s pleading tone, “Please mama, we promise we’ll be good!”

As you flatly stared between Cassian’s smirking face and Evelyn’s equally mischievous smile you silently cursed yourself, scoffing in disbelief at the fact Cassian had known your daughter for under an hour and had already pulled her into his troublesome ways.

Praying to the mother for the strength you are going to need for the restless days ahead.

It had been an evening to remember for Evelyn, Cassian having been more than willing to occupy her until the late hours of the night. Bed-time forgotten as the two of them played and played until Evelyn was no longer able to keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried.

Your daughter sprawled across yours and Cassian’s lap as the three of you cuddled on the sofa. It didn’t take much longer for you to follow suit and join Evelyn in her dreaming, eyes drifting closed as Cassian’s warmth pulled you into an inviting slumber.

Cassian was more than content to sit and watch the two of you sleep, lip curling at the soft snores which escaped from Evelyn’s mouth.

And as Cassian lay there with the two of you safely tucked within the sanctuary of his arms, he wondered if this was what he had been missing all of his life. For being here, surrounded by the small family you had built for yourself, Cassian could have sworn that his heart had grown two sizes bigger.

So as he stayed awake, scared of missing out on a single moment, Cassian whispered into the silence of the night. A hushed prayer for whoever was listening.

“Thank you” a soft smile graced his lips, “For bringing me my beautiful girls.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Ahhhh I love them so much 🥹

If you want to see any more of them and have an ideas for what it is you want please do feel free to send in some requests because I totally wouldn’t mind writing more about this little family 🥹

[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

[waldau]

hii! I've noticed that you haven't written anything for minghao yet (according to your master list) so I wanted to request something cozy and homey with him. like maybe cooking together or waking up together or something along those lines.. :)

hello anon! i was feeling extra sappy with minghao and this also happens to be my first work for him. thank you so much for requesting it, i hope you see this!

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

muse — xu minghao | 1,382 words | fluff

minghao blinks his eyes open to the sound of silence. there’s not much he can hear right out, except for the distant sound of cars going past. he lazes around for a few more moments before giving in and checking the time on his phone.

it’s just shy of six in the morning. he needs to be up and at the studio by nine, but he doesn’t feel like moving just yet. he puts his phone away and turns around to you, to watch you sleep.

the first time he’d ever done it was unfortunately a time you weren’t actually asleep, and he’d ended up staring at you for ten minutes before you woke up and apologized to him, saying that you couldn’t pretend to stay asleep without wanting to burst into laughter.

he still remembers how embarrassed he’d been by that, and how you made it up to him with kisses and multiples reassurances that it had been okay, that he could do it again, that it wasn’t a problem at all, you’d just been caught off-guard the very first time.

the thing is — minghao adores you. he’s in awe of you. to him, no one else on this planet even compares to how exquisite you are. he loves how like-minded the two of you are, how affectionate you’re with him, and how much you support him without even saying any words. of course, he loves going out on dates with you, seeing new places with you, seeing you match the outfits he wears, but this might just be his favourite sight in the world.

this being seeing you asleep on your side, facing him, a hand tucked under your head and the other holding his own. as an artist, he’s used to noticing the finer details about everything he sees, so when it comes to you, he could lose himself for hours noticing every single thing about you that makes him love you more.

minghao gently untangles his hand from your grasp, drawing his own blanket over you properly so that you don’t feel cold. he immediately feels the cold winter air hit his bare arms, and he winces as he gets used to it. he’s going to need to workout before he leaves, because there’s no time for it in the evening. not if he wants to finish work fast enough to come back to have dinner with you.

his fingers itch for a brush. it’s been a while since he’s painted something. the last thing he’d put on his canvas had been a rendition of a sunrise he’d been able to see with you a few weeks ago. it had been magical; the beautiful hues of orange and yellow blending with the shimmering brightness of the sea, contrasting the pale hue of the sky.

but nothing looked more beautiful than you sitting next to him, watching the sun rise and letting the water wash over your legs. he’d been tempted to paint you instead, right there, but you’d dragged him out on a monday morning for inspiration, despite the fact that both of you had work soon, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

but he doesn’t really need inspiration. not when you’re his muse.

he runs his fingers across your face as gently as he can, glad that you’re still asleep. you’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, and he’s glad he’s part of why you’ve been sleeping better. he smiles when he notices two faint pillow creases stamped into your cheek, angry red lines that he hopes don’t hurt you at all. you somehow manage to look even more perfect with them.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at you before your eyes blink open slowly, and somehow his eyes are the first thing that yours find. he holds his breath, waiting for you to speak.

“hao?” you ask, voice croaky. “what time is it?”

minghao checks his phone again. “six thirty-seven. you still have twenty three more minutes to sleep, if you want.”

“mm,” you say, before you roll in closer and pull his arm to yourself. “wake me up at seven, then.” before he can say anything, you look up at him. “aren’t you supposed to leave early today?”

he nods. “do you want me to leave?”

you huff and tug at his arm to pull him closer to yourself, and he goes down willingly. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then?” he asks, pinching your nose softly.

you’re used to his teasing by now, so you just roll your eyes throw an arm around his waist. “did you sleep well, hao?”

“really well. you?”

“me too. but…how long were you staring at me this time?”

he feigns shock. “you could tell?”

“i can just…feel it, somehow,” you giggle. “won’t you tell me?”

“do you really want me to?”

“of course,” you say, eyes shining despite the layer of sleep clinging to them. minghao wishes he could spend more time with you like this. it’s almost like you’re forcing yourself to stay awake despite having some more time to sleep, just to talk to him. the thought warms his chest.

“maybe forty minutes? maybe more.”

there’s a grin on your face. “correct me if i’m wrong, but…i think you love me?”

he could just refute it, tease you a little, joke that you’re in too deep, but he can’t. there’s something about the early hours of the morning combined with the fact that he has the honour to wake up with you that makes his heart heavy. he’s lucky to even have this, especially with you.

“you’re right,” he says, voice rough, feeling his waterline sting suddenly. “i love you.”

the grin on your face disappears slowly. “hao? is everything okay?”

“of course it is, darling,” he says, bending down to kiss your forehead, brushing off some rogue strands of hair to kiss it properly, tucking it behind your ear so he can see your beautiful face better. “i love you. is that wrong?”

“no, silly,” you say, leaning up to cup his cheek in your palm. your hand is cold. maybe he should’ve warmed you up better. “you sound…sad. like there’s something eating at you.”

he closes his eyes and indulges himself in your touch, trying to work out his words, marvelling at how easily you can read him. “i…love you. you know that, right?”

“yeah. i love you, too. but…?”

“but,” he sighs, “i just…don’t have the right words to tell you how much i love you. i could say i love you a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough. i could kiss you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. i could…i could ask you to marry me but nothing would be enough to tell you how thankful i am that you’re here with me. that you’re mine.”

silence, just the two of you in your bedroom, the sounds of life filtering in from outside the window.

your breath is shaky when you speak. “hao.” you drop your hand down to his arm. “i love you, too. you don’t…i don’t need any grand gestures from you. just…be with me. every single day. be mine forever. that’s it.”

“there’s nowhere else i want to be.”

“then that’s all i need.”

minghao presses a kiss to your head. he hopes it conveys everything he’s feeling right now. he’s about to say something more when your alarm goes off, and he really should get going if he doesn’t want to reach work late.

“see you in the evening?” you ask, hand catching his as he attempts to get to his feet. “maybe we can talk about…getting married? for real?”

minghao hasn’t even opened the curtains yet, and he feels like he’s standing in front of the sun again. he’s going to go to work, do well, come back home to you and hold you and hear about your day and eat with you. he’s going to surprise you with a painting of yourself, and he’s going to marry you. that’s the life he’s built for himself with you, and he loves it.

it’s all he needs to keep going, every single day.

“i can’t wait. i’ll be back before you know it, darling.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[zae-heeyyy]

Pastiche

Summary: You and Arthur escape through writing. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader Word Count: 2,345 Trigger Warning: Tuberculosis, death Tags: angst, sadness, high honor Arthur

a/n: Thanks for you kind words on Chiaroscuro. I've enjoyed writing again so much! I'm in my tragedy era. My hs english teacher's voice haunts me when I'm writing, so I spent a lot of time scrutinizing this. Didn't mean for it to be so long, but I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

pastiche: a work of art or literature that imitates the style or character of another, often as an homage or tribute.

You knew there was something special about Arthur Morgan the day you met him. Despite his best efforts to believe otherwise, he was easy on the eyes, and his dry humor combined with his strong sense of honor sealed your crush on the cowboy. Everybody else could see that he was sweet on you, too, noticing when he pulled you to sit at the fire with him or how he watched you around camp. As more time passed, you'd become mostly inseparable, taking every moment you had to sneak away together. One of your favorite places to escape to was the fields of Little Creek River in Big Valley. You'd be reading a book and glance over to find Arthur staring intently at an animal until it was out of sight. Then he'd open up his journal and sketch it.  He wasn't doing that today, though. He was staring across the field, but you could tell he was elsewhere in his mind.

"Got somethin' to say," his eyes met yours earnestly. When he told you he loved you, a laugh erupted deep from your belly. Dumbfounded, he asked, "The hell is so funny?" his own laugh betraying his attempt to be solemn. It was hilarious to you that he didn't think you already knew that and that he didn't know you absolutely felt the same.

Another day, you were lying in Arthur's lap in the grass. Just the day before, he had returned to camp with bruised knuckles and some poor fool's blood on his face—one of Strauss's clients. You longed for a life where bruised knuckles and loan sharking were distant memories.

"Where would you be if you weren't here," you'd asked, holding his hand in yours. He stroked your thumb with his and gazed over the valley like always.

"Hard to imagine." He mumbled, sounding far away.

You nodded in agreement and replied, "You're always writing or drawing in your notebook. Maybe you could've been an artist or a writer." The thought brought a soft smile to your face, and you imagined, just for a second, a life where Arthur's biggest worry was perfecting his latest masterpiece.

He huffed in dry amusement, "Probably wouldn't have known how to read if it weren't for Dutch and Hosea."

You assented again and sighed, the smile on your face growing wider.

 "Arthur Morgan: author and illustrator." You held your hands up in dramatic fashion as if envisioning the words in front of you. Then you untangled yourself from him and sat up, "You could, you know? It's not too late. Maybe a biography?"

"A story about my life, huh?" He looked at you with a dumb smile, "I think a book about dirt would be more interestin'." He bobbed his head up and down as if nodding made his thought more true. You shoved him playfully, and he raised his eyebrow at you and held out his hands questionly. "What? There's all different kinds of dirt," he started counting on his fingers." Brown dirt, red dirt, hard dirt—"

You cut him off, "I'm serious, Arthur! This life…it ain't one normal folks live." A shit-eating grin crept up his face as he fought not to make another joke at his own expense. He shoved it down and kept listening. "Sure, it's just your life to you, but other people might find it interesting, exciting, even."

He thought for a second, then put his hands in the air, mimicking you, "The Confessions of Arthur Morgan: The Detailed Life of a Gunslinger by Arthur Morgan. Sounds like a Pinkerton's wet dream."

 "I see what you mean," you trail off, fingers playing in the grass. "Could change the name. People publish under a different name all the time. There's a word for that, I think."

"Pseudonym," he responded, his accent thick. "Think it's got one of those silent letters in front." He said it so matter of factly, and it confirmed what you already knew about him: he was far more intelligent than anybody ever gave him credit for. Still, you left the idea alone and thought Arthur had, too.

Then, on another afternoon in the fields near Little Creek River, he spoke out of nowhere. "Arthur Callahan or Tacitus Kilgore?" 

"Hmm?" you asked, barely glancing up from your book.

"For the pen name," he confirmed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

From that day on, your trips to Little Creek River became writing sessions. He bought a notebook that you two would trade off, coming up with ideas for the dramatized life of the gunslinger. You'd taken some creative liberties, and the story wasn't exactly a biography anymore. It had shaped into a Western love story. Arthur Callahan, after living a bad life, met someone who made him want to be better, an angel sent to rescue the devil himself. Arthur Callahan would get the perfect ending; a normal life. It was all Arthur's idea. 

"It's not my story; it's ours," he'd told you. 

You had been daydreaming about the possibilities for your novel for some time, but the chaos of life with the gang left little room to focus on it. The sudden move from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point made things worse. Somewhere in the move, the manuscript was lost or destroyed—either way, it was gone. You couldn't hold back your tears during your next trip to Big Valley. Arthur's big hands swallowed your face as his thumbs wiped your tears away.  

"Shhh, we'll rewrite it, sweetheart," he promised.

Despite Arthur's gentle nudges, you couldn't find it in you to rewrite the story. Another day, he'd invited you to ride with him, heading off to your usual spot. He'd asked once more if you were feeling up to writing again. When you rejected the idea, he shook his head, seemingly surrendering. 

"Fine! You're so damn stubborn." There was no malice in his voice, though, and his eyes twinkled a little. "Looks like I gotta take matters into my own hands." Instead of stopping the horse in the fields as usual, Arthur stopped short, cutting into nearby woods. Eventually, he halted outside of the small cabin that was Vetter's Echo and hitched the horse outside. 

"Come on," he said, helping you down. "I've got a surprise for you." You walked up the cabin's steps, and he swung the door open to a small living quarters. "It don't got a back door, and I'm pretty sure the feller living here got mauled by a bear, but it's got one of these things." He gestured to the desk in the corner of the small cabin, a typewriter sitting atop it, "I don't have the first clue about using it." So he left it for you to figure out. He'd sit on a stool beside you, reading from a notebook, and you'd type slowly at first, but as time went on, the keys felt as familiar to you as a gun trigger did to him. 

Then things started falling apart. You'd moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point, then to Shady Bell in a matter of weeks. The men went on a job to rob the bank in St. Denis, and most didn't return. You'd forgotten about the manuscript while trying to survive and spent weeks worried about Arthur and everybody else.

Then he came home to you, waterlogged but alive. You'd never felt more relieved. He was skinny and had a persistent cough, blaming it all on his rough journey. But it didn't stop him from finishing the book as promised. He'd write whenever he had a chance, and you'd go back to the little cabin in the woods, you typing and him reading.

Then he couldn't get through a page without coughing. You listened, concern etched on your face as he told you about his coughing spell and subsequent visit to the doctor in the city. Tuberculosis: practically a death sentence. After that, he'd step back when you tried to be close to him and wouldn't let you kiss him or be intimate with him. You spent a lot of time crying while he dipped his head in profound shame. 

Weeks later, he woke you up at night, gently shaking you and whispering to not alert anyone else. "C'mon, get dressed and ride with me." He was serious, his jaw set, his voice low but demanding. You didn't know what was wrong, but dread ran through your veins. You rode far away from camp, mostly in silence, your anxiety not letting you say anything. 

"You're gonna live a good life. "he finally said, breaking the silence. Your eyes stung, and you felt a lump in your throat.

"I don't want to hear this right now, Arthur."

He shook his head, frustrated, and spoke through clenched teeth. "Listen to me." His tone made you flinch. He'd never taken on that tone with you, ever. "This whole thing with Dutch, it's over. You gotta run. Gotta get out and make a good life for yourself." 

You wanted to protest; you weren't going to leave him, not now. But then you saw the waiting stagecoach up ahead. Your heart dropped and shattered into a million pieces. You reached around him to pull the horse's reins, coming to a skidding stop. You hopped down and started shaking your head, frantic in your movements and words. 

"No, Arthur. No."

You wiped away the quickly falling tears as you turned, fast walking, almost running back to that godforsaken camp that was Beaver Hollow. Even in his sickness, it only took Arthur a few big steps to reach you, grabbing you by the waist and turning you to face him. And then you cursed at him, pounded your fists against his chest, and wailed into the night. He just pulled you close to him, squeezing you until you didn't fight anymore. He gave you a stack of cash, made you promise to run, and said he'd come find you after it was all over. But both of you knew, deep down, that you were setting eyes on each other for the last time. He kissed your head. You sobbed into his chest, only letting go when the impatient stagecoach driver beckoned you.

"Never could've imagined I'd know somebody as perfect for me as you." All you could choke out was, "I love you," over and over and over again. He slipped a folded letter into your hand and helped you into the coach filled with your things. He stood silently with his hat in his hands while you rode off into the night. You sobbed for as long as your body let you while the coach took you down to Copperhead Landing.

First, Tilly showed up with Jack, and then Sadie came with Abagail. But then John arrived bearing Arthur's hat and satchel with a look in his eyes so terrible that it brought you to a screaming sob. That night, when everybody had finally settled down to sleep, you slipped away, leaving a note of thanks and well wishes. You were alone then, the way you wanted it to be without Arthur.  

Eight years; it had been eight years since everything went to shit. In eight years, you worked your ass off with any odd jobs you could find. Keeping busy was how you cured your broken heart. You'd tried as hard as you could to forget about the life you'd once lived until you read a headline in the newspaper: MICAH BELL KILLED. The memories flooded back to you, and you returned to a place you hadn't visited in a while. You only kept 2 things from that time: a letter from Arthur and the manuscript you'd written with him. Forged in Fire, you called it. After all this time, you couldn't remember who came up with the name, but you remembered why. You two were like tempered metal; the more you walked through hellfire, the stronger you became.  

Then there was Arthur's letter. You'd read it only once before today.

"Things I wanted to say but did not have the courage to say aloud." was scrawled across the top of the page, followed by a list.

"Keep visiting Big Valley.

Keep writing.

Publish the book.

Watch every sunset.

Trust your gut.

Please, be happy."

You heard his voice through every word. He'd underlined the third point: publish the book. In that moment, you decided to take a leap. You wrote to a publisher and sent a copy of the manuscript. And that's all it took. Things went into a tailspin after that, and before you knew it, you were holding a hard copy of the manuscript you and Arthur had worked on together all that time ago.

You'd made an effort, then, to find Abigail and John and Jack. They were held up at a ranch, Beecher's Hope, and were married now. You caught up with the Marstons and apologized for hastily disappearing all those years ago. They were happy for you, and you for them. 

On your departure, John took your hand, "I don't talk about him much these days, but I don't think he loved anybody like he loved you." He paused for a moment and forced his eyes to meet yours. "He's buried out in Ambarino, near Donner Falls. Top of the mountain. I can take you." You declined John's offer but set out east toward Donner Falls the next day. 

You found him around noon and watched wistfully as an eagle flew from its spot on a rock behind the flowery grave. You fell to your knees, no longer able to control the tears flowing down your face. "I did it, my love," you choked through tears. It'd been a long, long time since you let yourself feel this pain—a longing to reach something impossible. You dabbed the tears away from your eyes and sat in the grass, hugging Forged in Fire to your chest. "Thought I'd read it to you," you spoke into the air. You opened the book, cracked the spine, and read "Chapter One: Heaven's Fall, Hell's Rise."

[little-star-bun]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙥𝙩｡ 𝟮 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

because you all liked the first one so much, i have more for you <;33

warnings: 18+ Lesbian fanfiction!! Men and Minors DNI!! masturbation, low-key stalking, Ellie is a bottom, mentions of drug use;;

enjoy angels ♡♡

I do not own Ellie or anything associated with TLOU.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✎ ;;

Loser! Ellie is a stoner. She has joint butts littering her car and her room. She smokes after school, before work, after work. Pray for her lungs please.

She wants to smoke with you. She low key fantasizes about getting you high for the first time, to watch your eyes turn red and your lips form around the blunt.

She made a playlist and fills it with songs that remind her of you. She's so stereotypically lesbian it hurts.

She has at least a dozen drawings of you in her journal. Sometimes she'll sit in her car, watching you talk with your friends while she doodles you. Sometimes using your social media as references. But it's so sweet the way she adored every feature of yours :((

Like I mentioned last time, she definitely whimpers and begs. I love top! Ellie, but let's be honest, she's a total bottom. She loves to think of you touching her, eating her wet cunt. She genuinely has so many perverted thoughts of you. She wants you to take control of her, make her do anything to give yourself pleasure. Use her face to masturbate, please.

Not just that, but she watches porn thinking about you. She can't help it, she's just so in love. Loves to rub her needy cunt to videos of girls scissoring and cumming, thinking of how she could try it with you.

One day you had asked her if she finished the homework. You were out and hadn't had time to do it. Poor girl could hardly speak, handing you the answers before you could even finish asking.

Your words had played in her head for three days straight. "You're a life saver, Ellie!"

Later that night you even texted her.

[Thanks again! Seriously, I owe you one.]

She stared at the message, heart racing. Come on Ellie, say something clever!!

[No problem, I'll take you up on that one day!]

Nice.

[You're cute. Goodnight, Ellie.]

She had stared at the conversation for hours. She couldn't believe you had been so grateful to her that you texted.

She was so flustered that of course she had gotten hot and bothered, touching herself through her boxers at the way you called her cute.

Shes a gamer, duh, preferring open world rpg shooters. She's tried every cringe game at least once. Fortnight, World of Warcraft, Valorant. She loves GTA and RDD. Her perfect night is just sitting in her room, smoking a joint, playing on her XBOX. (XBOX is superior idc)

She did get the Sims, making a sim of you and then a sim of her. She made you two have a dog (she didn't even know if you liked dogs). And she makes them woohoo. Alot.

Definitely plays with mods and cc. She has wicked whims and basemental. Loves looking at your Sims tits and making them get high together.

And the drawings I've mentioned before? Half of them, you're half or fully naked. She loves to sketch your boobs, your curves. Makes her mouth water. She has no shame, she masturbates to them when she's done.

Her major is defined the arts. She loves to paint and draw and sculpt. She may not seem like it, but she's such an artistic person. Sometimes you'll see her walking around with clay or paint on her hands. It's honestly adorable :(( Thinks of your body as a work of art fs.

Def shops at Spencer's and Hot Topic. She's so fucking emo and cringe. Reddit user vibes.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

My requests and asks are open!! I'm so bored, please send some!!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎-𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛-𝚋𝚞𝚗 — 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚢, 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔!

[maiko-san]

TADC x Robotic Jester! Reader (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Continuation of the previous parts :D, I literally forgot one character that is Kaufmo. Even though he's not in the pilot, the poor guy deserves love! I know this is a short chapter but Kaufmo kinda deserves one tbh. Too many Jax x readers around lol.

ft. Kaufmo

Warning : slight angst

There's nothing much to do around the circus as of late, Caine had been busy with his work/project and the others are doing their own things or minding their own business.

You're in Gangle's room and watch her draw characters from anime, even though she couldn't remember much about the characters or how they used to look like. Every time she draws, she feels that she is getting the characters so right!

"Look, here (Y/o/n)!" Gangle smiles as she holds up her finished drawing of an animal with a large red hat.

"A raccoon?" you questioned tilting your head to the side. "No, silly! It's a reindeer! A doctor too!" Gangle said. "Hehehe~ I'm just messing with ya, Ribbons!" you said.

"Hey, look what I've drawn!" you said. Holding up a badly drawn of yourself with Gangle with the word 'Weeb Besties' on top with hearts all over. Gangle gasps and takes the paper from you, "I'm going to pin it on my wall!" she said, hugging the drawing. She walks over to her board and pins it on the large board filled with all kinds of arts she had done.

"(Y/o/n), let's play mario—" before Gangle could finish, both of you were teleported to the stage.

Turns out, there were new people on the stage.

Kaufmo

A clown?! Gasps! A stage buddy! Yippe :D

Kaufmo, a name that was given to the newcomer by Caine. At first, the poor guy was in a panic mess, well who wouldn't when you enter a whole different dimension in an instant.

"What—wh—where am I?! Why can't I get this thing off?????!!!" Kaufmo shrieks as he begin pulling on his face, Jax snorts "Try pulling harder, maybe you could rip—" you instantly slaps your hand on the rabbits's mouth to shut him up.

LICK— "Waa! Eew! Gross!" you cringe when Jax licks your palm as the purple rabbit gives you a smug grin.

Caine had taken Kaufmo on an instant tour around the place.

The clown didn't take it too well.

The guy was in a nervous wreck and running around the tent to find an escape from the digital realm.

"Exit! Where's the exit!" he shrieked. Jax on the other hand kinda had enough with his screaming and left, leaving you and the others.

"Alright, let's calm down and take a deep breath" Ragatha said as she walked over to Kaufmo to calm him down.

Due to Ragatha's expertise at calming people, Kaufmo finally calms down.

Everyone introduced themselves to the clown and it was your turn, "Hello, there Kaufmo! My name is (Y/o/n) the robotic jester! Hey, wanna hear a joke?" you said with a grin.

Somehow both of you became partners in the circus!

You and Kaufmo would do tricks together and tell jokes to each other, even Kaufmo's jokes weren't the best ( most of his jokes were consists of dad jokes btw ). Being a good partner, you help him improve!

Like Kinger, Kaufmo sees you as a good friend. Like you do with Gangle, you protect him from Jax's pranks and mockeries.

But even when you try to get his mind off the exit, it won't stop him or change his mind. Kaufmo were glad that you wanted to help him but....

He really wants to go home.....

"(Y/o/n)....I'm thankful that you want to help me but...I miss home and...my family. I know they are waiting for me" Kaufmo said. with a deep frown on his face. You stare into his black beady eyes as you rub your arm and look away.

"Don't you miss yours, (Y/o/n)?" your eyes widen slightly at Kaufmo's question, "I wish I could be like you, ya know....Like don't worry about anything at all? All of your feelings are so genuine unlike the others, like you belong in this place....." Kaufmo said, fiddling with his gloves.

"Well, I— uh" you were cut off by a voice.

"Now, what's with all of these frowning I see?" a voice echoes, both of you look up to see the moon looking down at the two of you.

"Oh, w-we were just talking...." you said, rubbing the back of your neck "I-I I think I want to go back to my room, see you tomorrow I guess..." you said as you speed your way back to your room. On your way, you see Jax walking by and he sees you. He folds his arms behind him and extends his leg once you got close.

He trips you as you fall on the ground, but you were too deep in your thoughts to even bother about Jax tripping you.

A question mark appears on Jax's head as he watches you enter your designated room, slamming the door shut. Jax's grin left his lips, he never sees you acting like that before and it kinda bothers him to see you like that.

"Pft....they'll get over it" he snorts as he walks away but he still couldn't shake off the feelings.

Once you're in your room, you lock the door and lean on the wooden door before sliding down and sit on the floor. You cover your face with your hands and cry.....

Now that Kaufmo said it, "I u-understand how it felt...." you mumbled to yourself. Yes, you also miss your family.

Especially your beloved uncle, you couldn't remember what he look like anymore and every time you want to remember, it was all a blur in your mind.....

He was the only family you had left.....

You'd hope that he's doing alright....

You look up at a drawn picture of yourself (avatar form) and a man with a question mark on his face, both of you are holding hands.

There is a word written, "Greatest Uncle in the world".

"I...I miss you" you sobbed, rubbing away your tears.

[lincolndjarin]

my sister lives in the attic.

main masterlist

joel miller x reader

warnings : angst, death, child loss, grieving, denial

a/n : i've never written something like this but i'm in a weird place and this idea has been following me for quite some time now so i decided to take a few minutes and write it, i'd love some feedback on it since this style is kinda new to me !!

He didn’t like to talk about his children. 

“Do you have kids?”

“Two daughters.” Was all he said.

That’s what he had told you on your first date. He was so abrupt about it that you didn’t ask about them again, instead opting to wait until he told you on his own terms. 

On your fifth date he told you that Ellie got in trouble for cursing in gym class that day. 

On your seventh date he told you Sarah was away at college, and that he missed her terribly and wished she would visit. 

On your eighth date he told you that Ellie made him a card for his birthday. He even brought it over to your house to show you. It was a drawing of the two of them floating through space. The inside said:

i love our family to the moon and back!

You didn’t ask why Sarah wasn’t included in the crayon family portrait. 

On your ninth date he showed you the photos in his wallet. A baby girl with her curly dark hair up in two little buns sitting in the sand. The one below it was a girl who looked to be about five, giving the camera a toothy grin, standing next to Joel in a courthouse, holding up her adoption papers. 

On your twelfth date he finally invited you over for dinner, you happily accepted. 

Joel introduced you to an extremely energetic seven year old. He gave you a tour of the house (only the first floor.) and you smiled at every family photo hung on the walls.

“I invited Sarah but she couldn’t make it, she’s got midterms but I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” He tells you before leaving you with Ellie, going to pick up a pizza for the three of you. 

Ellie tells you about school, about her best friend Riley, and about playing soccer in the backyard with her father. 

And then she says the strangest thing. 

“My sister lives in the attic.”

“Excuse me?” You had given her a confused smile but she carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“My sister, Sarah, lives in the attic.” She said it so plainly. Taking your hand and dragging you up the stairs, pointing up at a staircase on the second story that led to a singular door, pink paint peeling from it with little wooden letters spelling out SARAH, the sight of it put you on edge. 

“We shouldn’t go up there honey, let’s wait until your father gets back.” You had put up a bit of resistance but she ran ahead of you, you watched helplessly from the bottom of the stairs as Ellie pushed open the door and ran inside. 

“It’s okay, dad says I can talk to Sarah whenever I want as long as I don’t touch her stuff.” She had shouted, already inside. Despite every nerve in your body singing for you to go back downstairs and wait, you knew better than to leave a child alone so you climbed the steps and entered the room. 

Nothing strange, nothing frightening, no secret nightmare. 

When you look around all you see is a room, albeit a child's room but a room nonetheless. 

Ellie sits in a love seat, suddenly repeating everything she told you about her day to seemingly no one as she stares at Sarah’s bookshelf. You walk around, trying to recall when Joel said she left for college. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust but strangest of all this is clearly not a teenager's room. 

This is a childs room, for a girl about Ellie’s age. Every photo on her desk doesn’t show her older than what looks to be twelve. 

“Ellie, honey, when you said your sister lived in the atti-'' She doesn’t stop talking from behind you, ignoring you entirely but her words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Dad keeps saying you’re coming home for Christmas but he also said you’d be home for his birthday, he keeps telling me how much we’re gonna get along but I just tell him we already get along fine.” 

It sends a chill up your spine, you aren’t superstitious but in a moment of weakness when you turn a part of you almost expects to see a ghost.

Of course that isn’t the case.  

When you look Ellie remains in the loveseat, seemingly the only thing that isn’t covered in dust up here. Her eyes trained on the highest shelf, when you follow her line of sight all of it starts to make sense. The shelf is covered in books and toys and trinkets, all of which are showing signs of age and disuse but the top shelf is neat and tidy, it even looks recently dusted. 

Only two things are on the top shelf. 

A beer bottle with the label ripped off, a lilac sits within it, a few stray petals lay in a halo around the makeshift vase. 

And a dark purple urn. 

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, unable to tear your eyes from it. 

“One time Uncle Tommy told me she was an angel.” She whispers when you stare in silence for far too long. “Dad got so mad we didn’t see Tommy for like a month after that and when we did see him again everything went back to normal.”

“What happened to her?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, she only shrugs in response.

“It was before I lived here, I never ask, I’m worried he’ll send me to live with Uncle Tommy if I do.” 

“Oh, honey.” You crouch down beside her, she hugs her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.” 

“I’m still not gonna ask. He doesn’t talk about her that much, only when someone else brings it up or if I ask to come up here to see her.” You nod slowly before holding your arms out to her, she wraps herself around you and you carry her to the door, eager to leave the tomb you’ve stumbled upon. “Bye Sarah.” She mumbled against your shoulder as you closed the door, the sentiment sent shivers down your spine. 

When Joel returns with the food it’s as if you never were in the attic at all.

Ellie runs to him, wrapping herself around his leg as he laughs, trying to kick her loose. 

When the three of you sit down for dinner she never says a thing to him about any of it. 

She asks if she can go to her friends house after dinner, their mom is going to take them to the arcade, Joel grins at you, asking if she was good while he was gone and you put on a smile, nodding. 

“Then you can go.” He ruffled her hair before she ran off to get her backpack. When it was just the two of you he took your hand, mentioning something about catching a movie while she’s gone, you nodded absentmindedly when he gave your hand a gentle squeeze you finally looked him in the eye. 

You’d never noticed it before but there is a permanent sorrow behind the dark expanse of his irises, as if he’s never really happy, he’s sometimes just less sad. “Everything okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

You don’t bring up the attic at the dinner table.

Or in the car.

Or at the movies. 

He just needs time, you tell yourself. Maybe he’ll tell you on your thirteenth date, maybe it won’t be until your hundredth date. Until then you won’t tell him that you know who lives in the attic and you’ll nod with faux disappointment when he says that his eldest won’t be home for the holidays this year. 

And you’ll take extra care of him on days when he comes home with fresh lilacs.

a/n : yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh tell me how y'all liked this haha idk if i'll write anything like this again it was just sort of something for me to vent with, hope everyones having a good day and thank y'all for reading <3

[thevesuvianchronicles]

Burnt Amber

I was reading something the other night about the fact that in the dark the cones in our eyes legit can't respond to light like, at all. considering my recent bg3 binge that obviously got me thinking abt a certain sassy vampire and thus... this piece. (I've also been told there's a scene that could go along with this but I legit just got to act 3) enjoy!

spoilers for vague bg3 things

If he had to explain it - which he never would- the world lost its color. Many people looked back upon childhood so happily, everything had been brighter, the world bigger, love was so easy and quickly fleeting. A babe’s eyes opened to blurry yet vivid shades, pastels, and tints. Yet the first thing Astarion’s crimson eyes had seen was only the darkness of his own coffin. Color meant nothing to a vampire who’s first vivid memories consisted of clawing his way through six feet of funerary dirt.

Though his vampiric vision allowed him to make out the different threads on a rich man’s lapel, he only ever saw it in moonlight. Only a reflection, a fraction of the beauty the sun would give the fabric. Where there had been pastels there was now muted tones, tinted colors became gray, and shades became nothing but more inky darkness.

Centuries of this and he slowly began to forget the true colors the world had to offer. Was purple always so deep that one couldn’t discern where a sleeve ended and the night air began? Had yellow always seemed so dull? And red… had red always been so greedy? Soaking up and glaring back the same sick color he saw in Cazador’s eyes.

That’s all his vampiric life had been, that was all it ever would be.

Yet there he stood, watching the last of the sun’s rays dip below the horizon

Despite his suave demeanor and sweetened words, he knew how to woo someone, lure them into his bed with his body and honeyed words, and later back to his master. Yet no words could describe the sun now. It burned his irises, his eyes ached for him to blink, turn away, and do anything but stare into the sun. He simply couldn’t stop; it would take away his breath if he needed to breathe.

His first realization that color was far better within the sun was, rather unfortunately, Gale. Upon falling on his ass, Gale had done the wizardly thing and began rambling. However, Astarion wasn’t paying attention at all. His eyes were on Gale’s robe. He couldn’t remember a purple ever being so vibrant, so cocky almost, as if requiring you to look at it. It fit Gale as Astarion would come to learn. Then he saw purple everywhere. Balsam blooms carried but seemed a warmer tint of Gale’s robe. Shadowheart’s armor was even darker, matching that which Astarion saw late at night in the alleys of Bauldur’s Gate. He hadn’t really thought about it but he rather thought purple and red clashed. Leave it to that wizard from Waterdeep to be a walking fashion faux pas.

Yet despite the fashion error, Astarion couldn’t stop thinking about purple, the many different shades he had seen in a matter of days. The sun making the slightest variations more obvious to his crimson eyes.

He first realized that light is what made the colors so polluted, as if the colors were waiting to leach into his eyes when he couldn’t help but stare at the color yellow. It was, by far, not his favorite color, drawing too much attention of a rouge like himself.

Yet the golden glow of the divine seemed to suit Shadowheart. The brilliance of a guiding bolt whizzing past his ear, bathing a goblin in light, setting it ablaze. The disgusting color had saved his skin to many times to count by now. All thanks to the devotee’s hands.

The vampire couldn’t say he understood Shadowheart’s devotion. But the sheer power her belief brought the color yellow, made him quirk a brow. Such polluting brillance made him wonder if light was able to redeem every color.

The color followed him after that battle. Yellow licked at Karlach’s flames, light reflected off the golden threads of Halsin’s armor, it even sparked every time Lae’zel sharpened her sword.

Yet there was nothing that could redeem the color red. No amount of light or dark could make crimson look any better. In darkness it looked like a cesspool of all things evil, an open maw waiting to swallow whatever it could. In the light of day, it reminded him of nothing but lost souls, glowing red eyes, and a sickly grin.

It was the color Cazador liked most on him, both his clothes and his skin. It was the color his life had been reduced to. Living off such crimson ichor, so much so that it stained him, stained even his eyes from what he had gathered about vampiric looks. It was the only color that he would be happy to forget, but never could.

“You know if you stare at the sun long enough… you could go blind.” The voice came from behind him, his pointed ears finally picking up on the crunch of gravel beneath feet. His eyes did feel a bit dry as he blinked, black and swirling colors hindering his vision as he looked back over his shoulder.

The leader of their little group was… interesting to say the least. So focused on the tadpole and their companion's journeys that Astarion hadn’t learned much about their own personal goals, if any. He should work on that.

“I always love to look at beautiful things, not unlike yourself darling.” Astarion let the words lilt off his tongue, but didn’t turn away from the setting sun.

He heard a small hum from you as you settled beside him, standing close enough for him to tell that you had refreshed yourself from today’s adventuring.

Neither said anything for a while, the gentle rustle of trees and soft calls of animals in the underbrush the only noise. He had been so lost in his musings that he hadn’t realized how far the sun had set, a barely visible sliver of yellow still visible surrounded by orange and red.

“Well… now that the lovely colors are gone I do believe I’ll turn in for the night. A book and a glass of red do seem to be calling my name.” Astarion sighs, as if it would be a hassle to get up and walk the few steps to his tent. It is a hassle, to leave the presence of their leader has become more and more of a hassle on his heart than he’s willing to accept.

“Don’t go now, it’s just started to change.” Your voice was soft, softer than he has ever heard it and a glance tells him that your eyes are still on the setting sun.

“No thank you darling, I do think I’ve seen enough shades of red for a thousand lifetimes.” There is a twist of pain in his voice, one that makes him wrinkle his nose. He was getting too easy, a slip like that with Cazador and he would have been reminded how much he hates red.

“But the sky is beautiful-“

He cuts you off with a flippant wave of his hand and a scoff. A change of subject was all they needed, easier territory. “It’s just red. You know they say a red sky at night means-“

“It’s not just red Astarion.” You cut him short this time, tone sharp. He didn’t understand why you would defend such a color. Of all things to fight for, a color. They saw red spilled every day, every day their leader fought, for teiflings, for druids, for their companions. Each day that color ruined everything it touched.

“Oh? Do tell darling, what is oh so special about that distasteful mix of colors. A muddled mess of all things awful-“

“I rather think red is beautiful.” Astarion snaps his eyes up, disgust curling his lips, a flaunting jab just ready on the tip of his tongue when your eyes stop him.

At some point, he wasn’t sure when, you had turned to look at him. Eyes just as soft as your voice had been. There is a sweet tilt to your lips as he turns, as if finally seeing what they had been after.

He sees the minute shift of you eyes, as if darting back and forth. He can hear the uptick in your heartbeat, the tension releasing from your shoulders. As if the sight of him was what you were after, as if waiting to catch his eye.

Then he remembered. Remembered exactly what color his eyes now were.

“I happen to like that color.” You grinned, eyes steady on his. His mind was blank, no haughty taunt or seductive words. He could do nothing but blink as a grin spread wide on your lips and you turned back towards the sun.

“When the sun hits just right… it’s beautiful, a burst of burnt amber. I think it’s the prettiest color I’ve ever seen.” Astarion knew they were definitely not talking about the sunset anymore. He couldn’t help but stare at you. The curve of your nose, the way your smile seemed so giddy, the way the sun reflected in your own eyes.

Red was the color of the flowers Karlach had tried to pick for all of them. It was the color the jewels in Lae’zel’s armor, the color the hem of Gale’s awful robe. And it was the color of the blood you so willingly gave him. Had offered as soon as he had explained himself that night, without asking for anything in return. You were so different than what he expected.

He tutted, realizing he had been staring and turns back towards the sunset, listening closely as you go to sit on the ground. The bright yellow of the sun diffused into a russet orange that slowly eased into a vibrant, dazzled red. He sighed, slowly settling himself beside you, far closer than before.

“Yes darling, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I could grow to love it.”

[ultralightpoe]

Vigilante Shit - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Never liked this one which is why it stayed in the drafts fr so long, it just always seemed empty. It's definitely missing something.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Word Count:9,131

Warnings: Cuss words, reader was once apart of the red room

Apart of my MIDNIGHTS EVENT.

Main Masterlist

Enjoy!

Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie

They say looks can kill and I might try

I don't dress for women

I don't dress for men

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

-

It’s the pity on her face that makes you want to claw her eyes out, or maybe the happy family photo sitting on her desk staring and taunting you with their stupid smiling faces. Each of her children smiled like nothing was wrong in the world, like they didn’t have to worry about earning their way or surviving the day.

Dr. Aquinos children would never know pain.  

But that was a given, they weren’t bought and sold off. They weren’t tortured and abused for years only to be torn out when Natasha fucking Romanoff decides to free everyone from that chain and force them into the real world. 

Did it make you pathetic to say you missed it? 

In the red room you had a cot, a meal at least once a day and training. Out here you were no one. No trace of you existed. No ids, or photos, no friends or family. You were nothing. 

Even ghosts had more than you at this point. 

“You know it’s common to feel this way about it? That longing to have it back? It’s the pain and the change, you feel like you have nothing right now but I can assure you that’s not true.” 

You say nothing. 

“Have you given any thought to our last session?” The therapist asks, voice saccharine amount of sweet that tells you she knows your looking for a fight today and she won’t be giving into it. You hated that she knew you would try that, you hated these sessions all together. 

“Yes.” Lie. And judging by the quirk in her smile she knows it too. 

“I think it’s extremely important for you in this next step, to get rid of the suit. What was it they called you?” You don’t reply for a minute, your own little form of rebellion, but she doesn’t let you get away with it for long. “The…. Cobra?” 

“The. Viper.” You bite out, grinding your teeth together and fisting your hands at your side. “The Red Viper to be exact.” 

“Can you explain to me why it is you got that name? I mean your other counter parts all follow a …..widow theme….. but you don’t?” 

“It just….. happened that way.” You lie. “How much longer do we have?” 

Why did she not have a clock?

“Ah. So the story has something to do with Bucky Barnes.” She smiles and you fight back the sneer. 

“Nope.” 

“You always ask for the time when memories of him are brought up.” 

Not. True. You don’t bother arguing because that might prove her point. 

“Can you recall what he looked like?” 

A flash of ice blue crosses your mind, his eyes. Followed by roses and ballet slippers. A small opening to freedom right there in your grasp, his smiling face….. replaced by that of betrayal, the pain and torture you suffered for weeks after because he-

“No.” You lie. “I only knew him as the winter soldier.”

“Have you tried reaching out?” 

“No. And I never will.” Not until you were able to kill him, get your revenge. 

Your therapist didn’t know about your revenge list though,she would have you imprisoned for it. The list of names of every mastermind and agent that did you wrong, and at the very end of the list was the one person you actually managed to trick you, the one person you gave everything you had left to. 

Bucky Barnes would be the last person you killed in this life, and you would make sure to enjoy every second of it.  

-

It’s not everyday they pull you from your training program and load you into a transportation vehicle, and you don’t know whether to be scared or excited by the change in routine. 

You decide on excitement, because a widow is never. Ever. Scared. 

The keepers transporting you all avoid eye contact and you bite back the smirk, knowing that you installed that fear when you bit the thumb off the last guard that tried to touch you inappropriately. You might be hydras toy but you were not a plaything for these half wits. 

“Your mission will be in direct partnership with the Winter Soldat.” The agent in front of you explains, watching you load up your widow uniform with hidden weapons “there’s a list of names that needs to be taken care of, and it might take a minute so they are pairing you both. They want no mistakes, only the best.” 

“No traces no trails. No chances.” You answer, already having it memorized, biting down on your tongue when you remember the poor girl you left as a witness to your last mission. 

Hydra never found out, but her scared scream when she caught you killing her father will haunt you. 

You wondered if you might have had someone to scream over at one point. 

“He won’t speak to you so don’t bother.” The agent grunts as the vehicle comes to a stop and he slams his fist on the side to let them know it’s safe to open the doors. 

They all cast you another look as you try not to roll your eyes at the drama. If you truly wanted out of this vehicle you could slaughter them all, you just knew that hydra would track you down no matter what so what was the point?

They lead you down hundreds of gray halls, each getting darker than the last and the smell of mold and desperation heightened with each step. Finally at the very last cell door they all raise their weapons and slide it open, muttering something in Russian before a figure emerges. 

The glint of his arm catches on the shit light above you first, and then he is there, glowering and confused in the same go. 

“Soldat. This is the widow.” His mentor speaks in Russian, gesturing to you which makes the soldier give you one look. That’s it. One brief look of disdain and he goes back to looking at the mentor like you weren’t even there. 

This mission is going to go well. 

-

“You’re making progress Bucky.” Dr. Raynor hums, her eyes glinting as she watches him over the pad of paper she hasn’t scribbled on in the past hour. He likes to think that it’s a good sign, but he also tries not to get into his own head about it. “But I’d like to go a little deeper if you’ll let me.” 

“Don’t really have a choice doc.” He mutters, but his tone lacks the usual bite. 

“Funny. Have you slept in a bed recently?” 

“I’ve made it to at least 3 hours of sleep in my bed.” He nods, not mentioning he thought the laundry detergent smelled like your shampoo. 

“You bought any home decorations? Anything at all?” 

“There’s a welcome mat by the front door.” 

“Inside or outside?” 

“…..inside.” He wasn’t brave enough to put it out in the hall yet. 

“I just want a house that has a welcome mat and that cookie smell. Something to call home.” Those were your words, whispered to him the night before the soldier….. 

“Tell me what you have been up to lately.” 

“Lunches with Yori….missions with Sam…. And I’ve been…. Trying to find someone.” 

“Someone from your time as the soldier?” 

“Yes.” His throat is tight and he might throw up. 

“For revenge?” 

“No…. Well she might want revenge…… I just want her.” He admits. 

Dr. Raynors eyebrows shoot up, and she tries to keep neutral as she asks the next question. “The viper then?” 

“She didn’t like that name.” 

“How did she get it?” 

“Me.” 

“And what did you call her if she didn’t like the name?” 

“Flower.”

- 

I don't start it but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

- 

The roof of the bagel shop on the stupid block you were on was probably the worst spot to be. 

Best, if you’re focusing on the fact that it’s the perfect hideout for the sniper gun you are aiming and the fact that you’re able to lay at a slant so your legs don’t falls asleep while you focus. 

Terrible for the fact that you could smell the pizza shop next door perfectly, and your stomach was beginning to rumble in hunger. 

But you had to focus, your target was supposed to be in his apartment right now, Viktor Aubrel, the man that sold you in the first place. 

Your intel told you he should have been home an hour ago and yet you were still waiting in the winter air that sent a shiver up your spine, too focused on the aim to realize the two figures now on the roof. 

“Are the widows that oblivious now?” A deep voice laughs causing you to whirl, knife out as you spot none other than the winter soldier and the new captain america, both watching you. 

It was the captain that taunted you, a sneer making its way into your lips as you prepare yourself to launch. The winter soldier extends a hand out, blocking the captain with a skeptical look. 

“Sam. A little forewarning, she doesn’t fight like the others.” He mumbles and you all but hiss, not giving either of them a moment before you’re launching at them. 

They track your movements well, both standing to fight as you run across the roof, jumping up on the ledge to give you the upper advantage and launch yourself at them. Starting with the easier target, the man with the shield. Wrapping your arms around his neck and spinning your body until you have his weight thrown in the air. He manages to catch himself standing but you’re ahead of the game, jumping so your feet are planted on his chest and shoving him off the roof right as the winter soldier gets to you.  

“I don’t want to do this.” He mutters and you hiss again, lunging with a knife out, slashing expertly over and over as he dodges as much as he can. “You don’t need to do this.” 

The knife catches in the elbow of his metal arm and his flesh hand comes up to grab your wrist so you twist, kicking his knee down and flick another knife from your uniform. 

“I want to.” You mutter in Russian, voice dripping with disdain as you raise the knife and bring it down. Only to get blasted across the roof. 

The air leaves your lungs as you skid across the concrete of the roof, splayed out staring at the sky and blinking away the pain. 

“She’s quicker than the rest.” Captain America huffs, helping the soldier up. 

“A lethal experiment. Taking a trained widow and injecting her with mutated blood of some guy named Logan Howlett.”

“Where does the viper come from?” 

“Her knives are all laced with venom and poisons. One touch to your skin and it doesn’t matter if it was a fatal wound or not. You’re out.” You hear them both approach, pretending to be passed out before they get close enough and you can kick the soldier in the stomach. He catches your foot, twisting so your body would have to twist with it or break, but you’re already pulling out a knife and launching it at the other. 

A shout of warning leaves the soldier's lips as the knife nearly gets his partner's thigh, you take this weakness and twist until you are wrapped around him and launching you both across the roof. But he is already working his way out, twisting so you slam into the roof once more, his metal arm on your throat holding you down as you claw at it. 

Panic attacks your body, scratching at the metal as the captain comes into view. 

“Stop. We can help you.” The man sighs. 

“Y/n.” The soldier mumbles, eyes pleading. “Let us help-“ 

Your foot bends to smash into his jaw and send him sprawling back. 

“That’s. Not. My. Name.” Your voice is scratchy from the choking and it hurts to talk, but you don’t have time since you’re already dashing to clear the roof. 

But the captain throws his shield and hits your ankle sending you falling until Bucky catches you and twists you with his metal arm so your back was to his chest and he can hold you. 

“It is. You told me so yourself. Remember?” 

“I wanna see my life before all this. I want to see my family and tell them I’m alive. My name was y/n. I found my file and I just-“ 

You were disgusted that you ever told him such things. 

“LET GO!” 

“We can help with your list.” It’s the caption saying this, his face holding pity. “We can’t kill but we can help take them down. If you’re willing.” 

“They all deserve to die!” The one holding you counted in that. 

“I’m not arguing that. But I am setting boundaries. Justice by more death is not the way to do this.” The man tries to ease, attempting a smile. “I’m Sam. You already know Buck-“ 

“Let me go!” 

“We’re proposing a partnership. We help you take them down, get them arrested and you don’t kill any of them.” 

“Right. And I get thrown in a cell right after I’m assuming.” You sneer, trying not to focus on the scent of hazel and coffee coating your senses from the soldier. 

“You will be pardoned. You had no choice back then and we are giving you one now. Pardoned.” 

“And what do you mean by taking them down?” What choice did you have? 

- 

It had been a week with the soldier when he finally showed a small amount of emotion. Insane. 

You had been huddled in the corner of the abandoned hotel you made camp in, keeping close to yourself for warmth as he pretended to sleep by the wall. You knew he wasn’t actually asleep, not trusting enough to do so. And you don’t know when he does get sleep, all you know is you fight to the last possible moment your eyelids can stay open and you don’t sleep long. 

The exhaustion and the cold were beginning to wear you down, a week in and you had yet to kill a single person on this list because the Soldat refused to listen to how you can manage it. With him it’s all silent and watching, your missions were usually more lively. You wore disguises and set traps. Hydra liked sending messages and it’s what you did. 

They want a quick and efficient widow? They send Belova. They want a widow that draws attention to their dangers? A prize possession? They send you. 

Which is why this entire mission is so weird. Why send you if- before you can finish your thought you are being pelted with a warm jacket, the Soldat glaring at you. 

“Your teeth chattering is keeping me up.” He mutters in Russian, sitting up and checking all his weapons. 

“As if you sleep.” You reply back in Russian, rolling your eyes. His eyes flick to you in surprise for just a second before he trains them again, watching the window in the opposite corner. “What’s your name?” 

“Soldat.” 

“What’s your real name?” 

“I….. should the viper be asking questions?” He snaps, glaring once more before you roll your eyes and stand up. He watches your every move as you toss his jacket back and cross the room. “Where are you going?” 

“To be a viper.” You sneer back, enjoying the way the Russian makes the words bite out more. 

He stands up quickly when you move to climb out the window but you send him a glare and descend quickly, making sure he does not follow. 

When you get back three hours later, he is standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed and a glare on his features. 

You simply walk past him to grab your list, crossing off the first name. “Can we get an actual hotel this time? I need to shower some of this blood off.” 

As you move to walk past him his arm shoots out to grab you, pain erupting as he bends your neck to look at him. You would allow this, because is his anger is on you then he won’t look into the 2 little children you helped vanish tonight after you killed their father. 

“You do not make moves without me. Understood?” 

“Yes Soldat.” You try to nod before he lets go. 

“Viper.” He hisses. And you would allow it, because if anyone knew what you had done you would be killed. 

-

The three of you ended up in a warehouse not too far away from the roof you had been scouting on, bucky carrying your bag of weapons on his shoulder as he tried not to look at you while Sam paced back and forth. 

You sat on a fallen beam, seeming bored and uninterested as you picked at your nails. But Bucky knew that was your game, to let the world think you were a valid assassin with little to no care. 

But he knew you cared, he knew how much effort you had put into saving kids back then. You had always been so warm without even realizing it. 

But maybe that all changed, after it….. all happened he hadn’t heard about you again and after he was freed by Steve he couldn't seem to find any of the children you had saved. 

“What happened to them?” He finds himself asking, his chest pinching at the sight of you. His flower. But that look in your eyes, the betrayal and anger….. 

“The first three on my list? I dumped their bodies in the river.” You smile, turning your glare to Sam. “How about that pardon now?”

“The kids. The ones that you-“ you stand before he can finish his sentence , both him and Sam preparing for a fight as you seem to try and ease yourself. 

“What kids?” Sam snaps, anger and protectiveness rolling off of him. “Did you hurt-“ 

“No. She used to smuggle them out.” Bucky explains. “When she got missions if there was a kid in the family she would pretend to kill them, and help the kid out.” 

“I thought hydra confirmed kills by bodies.” 

“Not when you’re the best.” You smile, that vapid venomous smile that made Bucky's stomach churn. “And Soldat is right. I used to smuggle the kids out.” 

His chest hurts at the name you use, but he assumes that it’s fair. “Where are they now?” 

He wants you to look at him, to tell him they are all safe and that he didn’t ruin everything. But you keep your eyes trained away, pain flashing through your features as you explain. “After you…. Told them….. they got the names and locations from me and sent out the shadow widow.” 

“Kaltain Amerie.” Sam nods, recognizing the name. She was married to a fancy rich guy now, had been the one Yelena found. 

“She took care of what I couldn’t. She did the job.” You nod, hands fisting at your sides as the words clang into Bucky. “And I was punished for my failure.” 

“And the missions you got after they caught you?” Sam asks, casting a brief look to bucky at the word caught. 

“I had a partner, and they always made sure I did my job.” Fuck. 

He was going to puke, how many kids had….. 

“You mentioned an alliance. Not an interrogation.” You snap, obviously uncomfortable. “And if you want to revoke my pardon because of-“ 

“I don’t.” Sam says gently, nodding. “And I’m sorry that it happened.” 

“I’m not.” It was a lie and Bucky could taste it. Anything to keep both of them away, that wall you built up when he first met you. 

“Okay. The name on your list. Let’s talk about how to get him.” Bucky changes direction, wanting to get you to ease again, not liking the pain in your eyes. 

You continue to avoid looking in his direction, and he continues to stare at only you. 

- 

She needed cold hard proof so I gave her some

She had the envelope, where you think she got it from?

Now she gets the house, gets the kids, gets the pride

Picture me thick as thieves with your ex-wife

And she looks so pretty

Driving in your Benz

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

-

It’s a month into the mission when the Soldat tells you his name. 

Gone were the days of sleeping on opposite sides of the room, now you both shared a bed. Gone were the days of him not sleeping, and he was now the one that fell asleep first. 

Tonight being one of those nights, with you sitting against the headboard of the hotel bed, his forehead pressed into your thigh as he falls asleep slowly, letting you play with his hair as you review footage of your next name. The third on the list. 

“My name….” He mutters, this time in English which still shocks you everytime he does. “It’s Bucky.” 

“Bucky?” It tastes like vanilla on your tongue, your chest lightening as you whisper it a couple more times. “I like it.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“My file…. My file says Y/n.” You whisper back and he tilts his head up to look at you. 

“You don’t seem to like it.” 

“I….. it just doesn’t feel real.” You admit. “It feels wrong for me to use it.” 

“I think it’s a wonderful name. It suits you well but… I think you’re my flower.” He murmurs back, moving to press his forehead into your thigh once more and finally lets sleep claim him. 

The next morning you both work in tandem, cleaning weapons, he gives you time to make sure that your knives are still potent with venom as you try to come up with a plan to get the 5 year old girl out of the country without the soldier knowing. 

But the betrayal of it hurts your chest, watching him work around you as a smooth unit. A team. That’s what you had become. 

“Ready?” He asks in Russian, coming up to fix the hair that had fallen out of your braid, using his flesh hand to push it behind your ear as his thumb traces your jaw. 

“Always. You?” 

“With you my little flower? Always.” 

-

It was ironic the way you and the Soldat still worked in tandem, moving with an effortless grace. 

Sam, the captain, watches with wide eyes as you both move around each other. 

“Do we have-“ 

“Yes we have enough intel.” You snap, closing the camera footage the second you spot the young boy running down the hall of the mansion when both him and his mom get home. The pain in your chest could be blamed on the image, and or the stupid soldier standing too close to you. “I can smell your breath.” 

“He ate a cheeseburger for lunch again?” Sam chuckles and you stand straight, giving him wide eyes as the Soldat rolls his own. “You know you can’t get in trouble for calling him an idiot, right?” 

“I’m aware.” Your words come out clipped and you try not to shudder at the way Sam snickers, catching your lie. 

“Say it.” 

“Say what?”

“Call Barnes a dumbass.” 

“I won’t speak to the Soldat.” You reply, moving to clean your knives. 

“Oh come on. Try it. It helps me..” sam laughs, sitting across from you at the kitchen counter as the Soldat shuffles closer to help you clean the knives. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him. 

“You….. are a dumbass.” You squeak out, not looking at him. You hear him snort behind you and he reaches across to grab another knife. You roll your eyes at the way he presses his body next to yours. 

“That was lame. Try again.” Sam laughs. 

“Fine. You’re a DUMBASS!” You snap out, watching both their eyes widen before laughs break out and they start cracking up. 

You feel your stiff spine loosen a little, the anxiety easing as you start laughing as well, all three of you cackling. His flesh hand finds its way to your lower back to keep you stable as you both drop the knives to laugh. And finally, after three weeks of working with them you drop the angry front, and give in to their warmth even though everything in you screams to not fall for it. 

-

“Is this….. proper mission food?” You ask from the spot you had taken at the window, watching Bucky and Sam come in with pizza boxes and beer in their hands, both laughing at each other . 

Bucky had, sort of tripped up on the stairs which sent Sam in a spiral of making fun of him, but the second they laid eyes on you that humor fell out the window, both going quiet. 

“You don’t think pizza and beer are good?” Sam asks, offended. “This is the best combo.” 

“Is it…. Allowed?” You ask again and Bucky feels that pang in his chest before he passes the box to you and opens it smoothly. 

“You get the first slice pick.” He offers and Sam gasps at the counter. 

“That….. oh that’s just cruel to me.” 

“It’s an honor to pick the first slice then?” You quirk your eyebrow, humor written on your face, the spark in your eyes setting him on fire. “This is a New York custom?”

“Oh indeed.” He smiles, pushing the box closer to you. “It would be a great dishonor to refuse this.”

There is a second of discomfort, he watches you contemplate it before you reach for a slice, grabbing the largest slice and raising your eyebrows as you wait to see their reactions. 

“Perfect choice!” Sam grunts, reaching around you to grab another slice. 

“I was going to choose that one.” Bucky smiles, watching you bite it immediately then stick out your tongue at him before taking up a spot on the couch as both of them find their own seats in the living room. You seem tense still, obviously not used to this sort of freedom anymore and his lungs constrict at the thought that this was caused by him. 

Back then you had been so… warm and open. Even as an agent you melted the ice exterior the soldier had around him. And through the muddled haze of his memory every memory attached to you was always crystal clear, like a flame in the fog. 

“So…. you guys knew each other back when he was the Winter Soldier?” Sam asks, popping the lid off of a beer with ease, he leans forward on his knees and pretends to be more interested in the pizza box. Making it seem like he was an open book, a comforting thing. 

“Yeah, we had a long list of enemies that they wanted us to deal with.” You answer, looking to the window rather than either of them. 

“It seems like it went wrong…” 

“It went fine.” Bucky is quick to snap. 

“It was fine. We made it through half the list, before Hydra had to get involved.” You snap as well moving to set the rest of your slice on the plate left on the table for you. “I made a mistake.”

“It wasn’t-” Bucky goes to argue, chest tight.

“I let emotions muddle my task.” You explain to Sam. “I got too attached and ruined it. And then I got caught smuggling the kids out- I was further reported for my behavior and handled accordingly.”

“Hey, this isn’t Hydra.” Sam tries to ease you. “I think what you did was very noble and-”

“All I did was give kids hope where it didn’t belong.” You sneer. “I will never allow myself that weakness again.” 

You cast Bucky a glare, his palms sweating and chest blistering as he watches you disappear into the bathroom and the shower running a second later. 

Sam continues watching Bucky, eyebrows pinched together. “You reported it?”

“I… as much as I broke away at that time I was still under the soldiers spell.” Bucky admits, gulping down half the beer in his hand. “I…. I had sent in a mission report. Well I had to send it in and I had caught her plan a little bit before that.”

“I’m sorry that happened, Buck.”

“I am too.” He sighs. “I got rewarded and she… well they broke her.”

- 

She don't start it, but she can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

She don't dress for friends

Lately she's been dressing for revenge

- 

“You need to be careful in the upper levels.” He warns, keeping his flesh hand on the small of your back as you both move to start scaling the side of the house. 

“I know.” You growl out, keeping your voice low as his eyebrows pinch in frustration. “Don’t be a worry wart.”

“Stick to my side.”

“The job is quicker if I take care of the kids.” You mumble, leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly, the closest you had ever gotten to actually kissing him, no matter how much you wanted to. Three months with him and you were hopelessly in love. 

“Fine.” He grunts out, his Russian sharp. He nods once before moving to his starting point, checking that you had begun scaling the wall to the kids room before heading in to handle the parents. But you had been so caught up in Bucky that you didn’t check to make sure both the children were asleep. 

The girl screamed first, followed by the boy and you began rushing to ease their worries, kneeling by them and trying to swipe the tears away. “No no. Easy my little ones. It’s okay. I just need you to listen-”

But the boy screams again, this time at something behind you which makes you whirl to find Bucky in the frame of the door, watching intently with blood on his arm. 

“No! Please!” You beg, up on your feet and shoving yourself in front of the children as he cocks his head to the side. “Please.”

“Move.” He orders, raising his gun. It seems he’s already assessed the weakness and was willing to handle the problem. “Now.”

“No!” You hadn’t even realized that tears were falling down your face until you could taste the salt, moving forward to grab his gun. “Please!”

“The mission-”

“They are children.” Both of you were speaking Russian, which seemed to be scaring the kids even more as they wailed, and you turned to ease them again. They dash into your arms, holding you tight as they sob. You would die before letting anything happen to them. 

When you turn to see him again you see that he has lowered the gun and is merely staring at you, something sparking in his eyes. 

You wait for the blow, but it never comes. Instead he nods his head and moves to pick up the boy. He helps you get them out, aboard a ship and hidden from Hydra. When you make it back to the hotel you pace a bit, waiting for him to finish you off. 

But he merely stands in the center of the room, watching you closely. 

“I’m sorry.” You sob, hand on your chest as you turn to him finally. “I failed the mission and-”

He moves forward in three easy strides, his hands grasping your jaw to bring you up into a searing kiss, arms wrapping around you tightly as he lifts you off the ground to keep you close. And all anxieties peel away, as he lifts his hand to undo your suit. Giving yourself to the soldier that night, and once you were done you stay huddled together, whispering your dreams of the past and future. 

And for once you felt like…. You were home. 

- 

The next morning tensions were gone, and you seemed to have forgotten about the night before. Or at least you were pretending to, and Bucky didn’t know if he should be happy or angry at the fact. 

You had combed through all the footage of the target, piling it all into a folder and he had sent the flash drive to the people needed that would be able to get him arrested. And after that had been sent you had sent out another envelope to his wife, with proof of an affair so she would be able to divorce him. 

And just like that another name was taken off your list, and Bucky tried not to feel the pressure at the fact that he was sure you would be gone the second the list was done. And he wouldn’t have an excuse to see you anymore. 

He’s lucky Sam went along with this plan in the first place. 

“Where is Sam?” You ask from your spot at the counter, legs crossed as you play with one of your knives, watching him closely where he sits on the couch. 

“He went to go check on his sister and her kids.” He answers, looking up to you. “They are really close.”

“That’s nice.” You hum, dropping the knife out of boredom. “What comes next?”

“You got another name?”

“Are we allowed to start without Sam?” You ask, eyebrows pinching together. 

“Yes. We can. Your list?” 

“Front pocket of my duffel.” You hum out, something having caught your attention. He reaches for the bag and checks for the list as you shuffle closer to his open laptop. For a second he hears you hesitate, but he had already made it clear that you had access to anything so he nods and lets you look as he finds the paper you wrote the list on. 

His eyes skim across the names, landing on the very last name as his heart stops. ‘Bucky Barnes’ , and no matter how many times you blink the name does not disappear. Why did you let him see this? Was this a trap set?

He whirls, only to find you staring at the screen unblinking. “Flower?”

Your head snaps to glare at him as he shuffles closer, shoving your list in his pocket and looking at what had caught your attention. He finds an old sitcom, a scene with a mother curled up with her kids and reading them a bedtime story. 

“You never told me why.” He mutters, sitting on the couch with you on the floor staring at the screen again. 

“Why what?”

“Why did you risk your life for all those kids?”

“Because they… because no one fought for me back then.” You admit, turning to look at him. “What is this show?”

“Full house. I don’t know, Steve put it on my list.”

“Your list?” You ask and he nods. 

“Things to catch up on.” He smiles. “Like the star wars series.”

“The what?” He blinks slowly at your question, purely shocked.  

- 

Three hours later you are both sprawled out on the couch, pillows and blankets thrown about with snacks everywhere. Bucky had dragged you out to the store, buying tons of snacks that you had never tried before and before you knew it the apartment cupboards were packed with snacks and you were preparing to see the first star wars. 

“Should we… have brought all this to the mission base?”

“The what?” He laughs, leaning forward to snatch a gummy worm from the bag you were holding. 

“The… this apartment. Are we allowed to use it for this?”

“It’s my apartment.” He shrugs, and you blink slowly. 

“It’s empty though.” 

“I have a couch!” He scoffs. “And a tv!”

“No bed, no plushy towels or…. This is your home?” You didn’t know why this upset you. “You live like this?”

You want to kill him. You want to kill him. Why does this matter?

“I have a welcome mat.” He points to the door. 

“That’s an ugly welcome mat.” 

“Is not.”

“That would scare away any child on halloween.” You snap. “Are you trying to ruin their halloween?” 

“No one really comes up here on halloween.” He shrugs again. “Why does it matter?”

“You… you’ve been free! You have been free this whole time and this is how you live and- I…..”

“I had other things to worry about besides Hydra. And John Walker. Tony Stark and the snap and- well I was trying to find you.” He admits. 

“You were trying to find me?” Your chest constricts, as you watch him. “You tried to find me?”

“I did but after I was freed it was like they made you completely disappear and I’m assuming it’s because they knew I would start looki-” Before he can finish his sentence his phone rings and he sees Sams name, giving you an apologetic look before picking it up. You take a moment to try and fix yourself, taking deep breaths in. “He WHAT?”

This catches your attention, sitting up to watch him carefully as he stands. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and nods. “I gotta go help Sam. Stay here and-”

“I’m coming with you.” You snap, moving to grab your duffel.

“No, we have a situation with John Walker and I need to-”

“I am coming.” And just like that you grab your suit, giving him your best glare as he shakes his head. “You both are helping me. The least I can do is help you.”

“You don’t have to.” He mumbles. 

“But I will. Let’s go.”

- 

Ladies always rise above

Ladies know what people want

Someone sweet and kind and fun

The lady simply had enough

- 

“Thank you.” You whisper, keeping your head on his chest as you trace patterns along his skin. “Thank you for helping.”

“If you got away what would you do?”

“Me? I….. I would find the kids and make sure they made it. I would buy a house and get a cheesy welcome mat for it. I would decorate for halloween and….. And I would adopt a kid and-” You could taste the freedom, imagine it right there. A happy life. 

“That sounds… amazing, flower.” 

You lift your head, smiling softly as you lean up to kiss him, and he smiles back before moving to kiss you back. 

You feel him stiffen before sitting up quickly and reaching for his knife. “Bucky?”

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I’m so sorry.”

Before you can realize the door is blown open and agents rush in to grab you. 

- 

“Oh…. oh I like this duo.” John Walker smiles, watching you stand slightly behind Bucky with your arms crossed. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you, both giving him a good glare. The Winter Soldier and The Viper. “I hadn’t realized that Bucko boy came with his very own sidekick.”

“этот идиот знает, что от него пахнет рыбой?” (does this imbecile know he smells of fish?) You ask, sneering a bit and taking a step closer to Bucky. “и так небрежно использовать свое имя. Я могу сломать этого человека за считанные минуты.” (and to use your first name so casually. I can break this man within minutes.)

“Я с нетерпением жду этого. Еще я очень голоден, мармеладных червячков мне не хватило, чтобы поесть..” (I look forward to it. I'm also very hungry, gummy worms were not a sufficient meal)

You nod, trying not to smile as he gives you a look over his shoulder while Walker shuffles uncomfortably on his feet. “Shouldn’t we all speak english?”

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs. “But I find it’s easier to let these two do their thing. You said something about a raid?”

“There is a train heading down south here in 30 minutes and I know for a fact that there are rebels planning on stealing what’s on it.”

“What’s so important about what’s on the train?” Bucky asks, casting a look towards you and you see him catalog each and every one of your weapons just as he always used to do as the soldat. You give him a glare and he shrugs. 

“Weapons.” John mutters. “And if we can intercept the rebels then-”

“You get your job back?” Sam snides.  John stutters for a second and you snort, enjoying the panic on his face. He glares at you, preparing to say something as you step forward to grab one of your knives. You had no clue who this man was but it was easy to know that he was not an ally. 

“Get your-”

“She’s not a dog.” Sam snaps, as Bucky sneers. “We’ll help, but on our terms. No one gets hurt and no one gets pummeled without cause.”

“Fine. Let’s see what you guys can do.” John sneers at you both, and Bucky sends you an easy smile over his shoulder as you smile back. 

“Устроить им ад?” (Give them hell?) 

“следую твоему примеру, Барнс.” (Following your lead, Barnes) You smile back, both of you swiveling to Sam and moving together. 

- 

You stand with him on a bridge, keeping a hand on his arm to stabilize yourself as you keep an eye on the ledge, fixing the comm in your ear with your other hand as he does the same. 

“I….. I never wanted to betray you.” He blurts, as John tries to convince Sam to give him one of their comms, his argument of ‘I’m part of the team!’ almost making you snort. But Bucky’s words kept your attention as you tried to play it cool. Keeping your eyes trained on the bridge before you. 

“Is this a good time to talk about this?” You mutter in Russian, just in case Walker could hear you both like you could hear him. 

“It was the status report. They were making me do it every month and….. I fought it. I really tried to fight it.” He admits in russian, casting a look to Walker before turning back to you, his hand shooting out to wrap around your arm as you lean to prepare a landing. “Careful.”

“I thought…. You were…. Nevermind it was my mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” He snaps, pulling you closer. “It… It was everything to me.”

“I shouldn’t have. I should have kept my eyes on the mission and I ruined it and I ruined it for those kids. You were a weapon dangled before me, they knew I would fall for it. They knew I would fall for the freedom of it. And I’m sure they already knew that I was helping those kids and they just needed to prove-” The words are spilling out and you just can’t seem to stop them, tears beginning to fill your eyes. “I just wanted… I just wanted to help them.”

“You did.” He mumbles, moving until his chest is pressed to your shoulder. “Please look at me.” 

“I messed it all up.”

“You didn’t mess anything up-”

“I did. I fell in love.” You finally look at him, tears in your eyes as he takes a deep breath in. 

“I-”

“Incoming.” It’s Sam's voice in the comms that makes you both jump before you look to see the train coming. 

“On it.” You mumble back in english, stabbing a knife into the brick beneath you as Bucky keeps a hold on your arm. 

“Be careful, we’ll be right behind. Keep a knife ready and-”

“I’ve got it.” You laugh, watching the train get closer and closer. 

“I just worry.” He admits, leaning forward to kiss your cheek softly. “And just so we are clear, I fell in love too.”

You try not to smile, giving him one last look before using the chord and launching down as you hear Sam count down in the comms, feet landing on the top of the train with a thud before you dive for the top grate and begin working on tearing it off. 

You manage to tear it off in time to duck and lay flat as a sign under the bridge appears, managing to avoid it before crouching and climbing in as the train breaks from the bridge, three heavy sets of footprints hit the top of it while you climb across boxes to get to the end of the cart. 

“Viper?!” Walker calls, landing in the crate followed by Bucky and Sam. You don’t bother answering, too busy trying to lift the shaft on the cart. 

“You good?” Sam asks, coming to your side. 

“I’m fine.” You mumble. “I can handle the mission sir-”

“Did you just sir me?” Sam laughs, leaning to help you with the shaft, letting the sunlight break in as the wind snaps in both your faces. 

“You guys see anything?” John yells across the way as Bucky hops over a box and reaches you both. 

You have just enough time to turn, ready to bite a response to Walker when you spot the bomb taped to the far wall. Your mouth opens in an attempt to yell a warning but it’s too late. It all blasts to shit. 

- 

There was nothing but pain as you hung suspended in the cell, the Shadow Widow sneering at you from her spot in the corner while Valkov took a break from torturing you. Your breathing is ragged, blood falling out of your mouth with the saliva as your eyes water. 

You can no longer feel your legs, and your fingernails had been torn out first. Sobs racking through your body as he asks the question again, his russian loud. 

“WHERE ARE THE LOOSE ENDS?!!”

You couldn’t betray the kids, you couldn’t do it. So when he picked up the drill you closed your eyes, sobbing once more as you try to blink Buckys face out of your memory, succumbing to your punishment. 

- 

Heat blasts against his back as you scream out, Sam yelling loudly, all three of you grasping anything you can as the train keeps going. 

Bucky’s metal arm finds purchase on a broken handle of the train, trying to pull himself up as Sam grips the side grates of the train trying to activate his falcon wings while you struggle to keep hold of what is left of the floorboard in the train car, nails scraping as you grimace in pain while your legs stay suspended in the air. 

“HOLD ON!” He calls, reaching his flesh hand for you before the metal of the door groans and he has to freeze. 

Walker appears, bleeding from his ears and looking frazzled as hell, but Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees the idiot reach to help you. Hope that you would make it out of this mess, that is until John stumbles as he reaches for your hand and ends up making you lose your holding. 

You scream out, nails scraping as you slide out, nearly all your body suspended in the air. Both Bucky and Sam scream, reaching for you before they realize they can’t. 

“When does this fucking bridge end?” Bucky snaps, looking down to the hundreds of feet below, memories flashing in his mind. 

“Language.” Sam grunts, exhaling in relief when he sees you manage to grab the final woodboard, your last chance at holding on. 

“Complete the mission.” You snap. “I can get up.”

“We don’t leave each other behind.” Bucky grunts, using his flesh hand to reach for a rope connected to the roof of the train car. 

“Hydra tells us we need to complete the missi-”

“This isn’t Hydra and I’m not leaving my girl on this train.” Bucky snaps and Sam whoops out a loud ‘fuck hydra’ as they both struggle to get to the main opening. 

There are thuds on top of the train and you risk a look to see multiple hooded figures with bags getting ready to ransack the weapons. A grunt of anger passes through you as let one hand free from the board, much to Bucky's chagrin as he yells out for you before you reach and grab your compact launcher you had hidden in the belt of your suit and shoot the roof with the grappling hook, pulling yourself up right in time for Walker to fall back into the car. 

“This manchild is useless.” You sneer, reaching for Bucky immediately, hands grasping his tactical vest and dragging him as much as you can into the train car as Sam struggles to get in as well. 

“There are about 15 figures. We should have about 10 minutes before they blow the rest of this train up.” You explain, keeping your hands on his shoulders as you assess him. “Are you hurt?”

“No I’m-”

“I’m hurt!” Walker calls, making you hiss an unappealing word at him in russian before moving to look at Sam. 

“Do you want the viper or me on this mission?”

“Viper would be nice.” Sam nods, looking at all the weapons. “Viper for sure.”

You nod, turning to assess Bucky one more time before he nods at you and you both begin working.   

- 

While he was doing lines

And crossing all of mine

Someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI

And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shh again

- 

You both work in tandem, every punch he throws shoves the person straight into your kick. You slash your knife at anyone that gets too close to him, slicing their skin easily as he snipes out anyone rushing to the train. 

Sam is finding the rest of the bombs, disarming them to the best of his ability. 

You hiss in pain when you get hit in the jaw, but Bucky is there smashing the butt of his gun to the back of their head as you blink away the tears. His hand finds your jaw, assessing the damage before turning and nodding to the path you guys need. 

“So…. what’s the plan after this?” He asks, huffing as he gets to the slate you had originally been planning on clearing. 

“After this? Probably dinner.” You laugh, bending to break the controls. He adjusts himself so you were back to back, him watching to make sure you were good. 

“I mean…. After this mission.” 

“I….. I want to finish the list.” You answer, tearing out a board to access the rest of the control panel. 

“Does that list still include me?” He blurts, making you freeze. When you don’t answer he looks down to see you already staring up at him with wide eyes. 

“You saw that?”

“On your list. Highlighted and everything.” He nods, snapping his attention to a thud across the way, finding it empty. It was enough to get you back to work, focusing on the wires and buttons again. “I would understand if you wanted to-”

“I don’t anymore.” You snap. “I don’t think I ever would have been able to but it’s not like I planned to make it far after I got out. I didn’t have a plan. Everyone else had a plan and I was left! I was tortured and maimed for wanting that freedom, and when the time came I was the only one that had nothing to live for.” 

You were seething, and he could only agree. He hated the other widows for what they did to you, that would never be forgiven. 

“I wanted a family. That’s all I wanted.” You whisper, finally breaking the right chord. The lights immediately die out and the train lurches as it comes to a complete stop. 

“Is that still what you want?” He whispers back, holding his hand out for you to grab and help you up. 

“I don’t deserve it.” 

“You are the only person in this entire universe that deserves that.” He snaps. “And it’s important to me that you know that.”

“It’s not like I have much of a future open.”

“Well I think you have a bit of a future in the vigilante game if you ask me.” He smiles. 

- 

I don't start it, but I can tell you how it ends

Don't get sad, get even

So on the weekends

I don't dress for friends

Lately I've been dressing for revenge

- 

“I’m sorry, you used to what?!” Sarah laughs, coming around the kitchen counter to grab a bottle of soda from your hand, eyes wide. “Dip your knives in lethal poison.”

“It made things easier. Even if I didn’t hit a vital organ I still knew the job was done.” You explain, shrugging a bit as she laughs. You still got nervous when talking about your past, but Sarah seemed anything but judgemental. 

Sam's sister ended up being your very best friend on this earth, which surprised you to no end. You loved her kids and you loved her. You especially loved girls night because you never thought this would be an option in general. Nonetheless you had friends now. You had a home, with a silly little welcome mat that was left on the porch for the trick or treaters every year. 

The very same one that was getting trampled on every time Sarahs kids ran through with your adopted children, covered in mud and laughing loudly. 

“Hey! Mind your mess!” She snaps out but you can’t stop smiling as you watch your adopted 4 year old chase after one of her sons. 

“What are you up to?” Bucky asks, coming in from the garage with Sam and Joaquin smiling from ear to ear as he rushes to kiss at your jaw. 

“We are getting ready.” You laugh, shooing him away. 

“For?”

“The Eras movie. You have daughters now Barnes. You need to get with the program.” Sarah scoffs playfully, making her brother laugh as they pick up the snacks and head to the living room. 

“Hey…. I just wanted to say thank you for your help on the mission the other day.” Torres smiles before following the rest into the living room leaving you with Bucky. 

“Hear that? Vigilante shit right there.” You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. 

“Still waiting for you to kill me.” He whispers against your lips, winking before heading to catch your daughter as she tries to dash past, making her laugh loudly and reach for you.

[pinkaditty]

Cater Diamond Thoughts

hey hey part 2 of my insatiable brainrot. been sitting in my drafts for like. weeks. it's Cater's turn. he's gyaruo (and im gyaru if u didn't know!) so i've been obsessed with him for like. months now.

summary: a small collection of thoughts about Cater Diamond that has no chance of curing my permanent unending gyaruo brainrot. help me please. content warning: suggestive content, implied sexual encounters, creepy (ish?) behavior, gn!mc, proofread once or twice at best. a/n: Cater's turn raaaaaah! this isn't exactly nsfw but all the same I'd really prefer it if MINORS DIDN'T INTERACT! thanks! also a reminder that I WILL NOT WRITE NSFW FOR TWST CHARACTERS CANONICALLY UNDER 18. thank you very much for respecting my boundaries! and i promise part 3 of the pervert obey me thing is in the works! <3

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI IM SO SRS.

thank you! enjoy the read!

Cater Diamond who is aloof.

He finds himself not caring at first, especially when you decide to spend all your time with other people when he could’ve been the perfect upperclassman. He finds himself not caring when he watches you get swept away by the hotter, older upperclassmen. He finds himself not caring when you can’t come by Heartslabyul as often anymore.

And then, very quickly, he starts caring. He doesn’t know why or how, but you somehow managed to become an object of his desires when he tries very hard to not let that happen with anyone, ever, at all. Sure he’s liked people, but he has never been spurred to act on it. So he doesn’t know why he goes out of his way to speak to you, to do things with you. Why does he invite you to go for tea and take cute pics? Why does he text you out of the blue just to share a silly thought or idea? Why does he jump for joy whenever he’s invited over to Ramshackle Dorm? And why do you go along with it every time?

He's mystified at how you've managed to break his aloof structure in so little time. But he's not going to let you get away with it. Now that you've caught his attention, he's going to ensure that he catches yours. 

Cater Diamond who is secretive.

He's the kind of person to keep things casual on his end, regardless of how committed the other party may be. He wants to know everyone's deepest secrets and desires, but prefers to keep his under multiple layers of locks and keys. Most of his relationships were almost always one sided, mostly because he could never keep himself tied down. He didn't like to be owned, but he liked to be desired.

After growing up in a house with two older sisters, he hadn't had much privacy, and hadn't had much secrecy either. But once he was exposed to different worlds, he made it a point to keep himself a secret. Talking about home was stressful, and working through the stress surrounding it was even worse, so he always kept his emotions a secret. His sunny disposition and eager attitude was more than enough to catch interested stares, so he kept it up. He was a bit of a tease, but people liked that. The problems came when people grew close to him and expected him to open up in return. That is usually when things would end or grow stagnant. The terrifying ordeal of being known and owned was too much for him. No commitment, no permanence, no promises. Just silly temporary flings, hookups, and infatuation. He was never tempted for more. 

And yet, with you, he finds it hard to not want to be yours. He craves your attention and will do anything to receive and retain it. It is especially satisfying when he manages to draw you away from others and instead towards him. It gains him more than a few displeased glares, but who cares? The only person whose attention he cares about anymore is you. 

Cater Diamond who is clever.

It may not seem like it, but he's got more than a few tricks up his sleeve. 

He will first ask you for your schedule, under the premise of wanting to spend more time together. When he has it, he memorizes it until he knows it off the top of his head. He keeps a close eye on your social media to track your favorite places, and asks you to go there with him, saying he wants to try something new. He plans out random encounters, few and far between enough to make them seem coincidental. He doesn't follow you, but he does show up. And because of that, he begins to stick out in your mind. 

He'll fish for your attention every chance he can get. He'll post the most random, silly things just to get you to like it. He'll click his pen a few too many times in class just to get you to glance over at him and watch him click it repeatedly. He'll fake a stumble if he's walking in front of you just to get your help. He'll put up his hair differently in flight class just so he can catch your questioning stare. He'll do all these things just to feel your eyes on him, so that he can feel like you've noticed him. And if he's brave enough, when he catches your gaze, he'll smirk knowingly, his eyes creasing up at the edges and say "You're staring," as though that wasn't exactly what he wanted. 

He can't bring himself to confess first, so he'll bait you into doing it, by planting the idea in your head in perhaps not-so-subtle ways. He'll mention the incoming Valentine's Day and how badly he wishes for a confession, or he'll bring up the topic of crushes often as though he's dying to know who you've got your eye on - all the while knowing it's him. When you finally crack and cave, admitting your feelings for him, his heart soars. Of course he accepts your feelings, and while the fear of commitment eats at him just slightly, it's muffled by his fulfilled want to be yours.

Maybe you fell first, but he definitely fell harder.

Cater Diamond who is prideful.

He's never been proud to be tied down, ever. But it's with you and he's learning to enjoy it. All he does is talk all of Heartslabyul's ears off (and anyone else who will listen) about how wonderful you are, or how beautiful you are, or how he adores every little thing about you. And while he does indeed love you, there is something satisfying about the palpable jealousy that hangs in the air when he mentions staying the night at Ramshackle Dorm or going out on cute little photogenic dates with you. His eyes glimmer with pride every time someone sucks their teeth or rolls their eyes or lowly growls. He doesn't even remotely feel threatened. 

He tries not to flaunt you too much, for fear of being overly zealous, but he offers his arm to you every time you walk together. He kisses your forehead sometimes when he sends you off to class. He takes as many pictures as he likes of you in your cutest outfits. And he always makes a show of it if you sit near him at lunch. He can't help it. He's just so proud. The question is, is he proud to be yours or proud to have you?

Cater Diamond who is capable.

It doesn't take long for you to bed each other; romance wasn't the only thing blossoming between you two. Cater very quickly proves himself to be far more than adept at such activities, but recognizes that there is love in this too, this time.

In the past, he always did it how his partner liked it to keep them interested, ensuring both parties were happy, but only to his own benefit. He never said "I love you" or anything as flimsy and daunting as that. It was always whispered moans and whines from him and his partner, various curses, vulgar descriptions, and a cry to signify release. Nothing more, nothing less. If such committed words were uttered, he'd stop seeing them. He always made it clear that that's never what he wanted to hear. He only wanted to hear how good they were feeling, how close they were, or what they wanted him to do or what they wanted to do to him. It was always just to get off or satiate a burning attraction, never to demonstrate love. 

Like the past, he wants to make you, his partner, feel good, but unlike the past, it is a demonstration of love. He will do everything in his power to ensure that you know that he loves you through every technique he knows. He thinks of you first and him second. Whatever you want done is done, however you want it, whenever you want it, all to show that he loves you. He doesn't care. As long as it satisfies you, anything's worth it. And he does satisfy you. Every time. 

He never gets tired of hearing his name moaned out on your tongue, and he never gets tired of the taste of yours, sweet as honey, lingering on his lips like a whisper.

Cater Diamond who is devoted.

He's been tied down, slowly but surely. Whether you planned it or not, you've simply got him wrapped around your finger. Of course he knows this, but can't bring himself to want to tear away. He is safe and comfortable with you, and all the things you've shown him. He quickly finds that, instead of being proud to have you, he's proud to be yours. He's proud to be loved in the way he's learned to love. Whatever residual fear he has of commitment, or loss of control, is all dissolved when he looks at you, your hand curled around his, your eyes watching him.

He takes pictures of you all the time to remind himself that he's yours, and he curls into your chest at night to remind himself that he's yours, and he bathes in the jealous stares of his peers to remind himself that he's yours.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Cater Diamond who is in love with you. 

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

a/n: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Cater Diamond my beloved?!?!?? anyways. thanks you guys for reading. genuinely I hope you all appreciate Cater Diamond as much as I do, especially after reading this! take care, and stay tuned for the other adult characters!

[ladye-zelda]

Welp, uh, technically it's still Age of Calamity's birthday where I'm at so here's a little fic of AoC Arranged Marriage AU!

---

(Basically the premise of this AU was that when Link was revealed to be the chosen hero Rhoam had basically married him and Zelda together; they would be in their early 20's in this AU of course)

---

Zelda rubbed her aching forehead, trying to still the racing thoughts in her mind as she glossed over the different designs of wedding gowns. Quite a few of them were too flamboyant for a wedding; decorated with so many jewels and layers that she could see herself dying in one of them. The others didn't even look like wedding dresses; too blue or red or gold with only fragments of white to even signify they were for marriage.

She set the different designs down, sighing defeatedly. Not one of the dozens of designs spoke out to her. It was like they were not even for her.

Well, of course not, she thought with a scoff. This isn't my own wedding. It is for the kingdom's sake.

It had been such a struggle to get the Master Sword from Korok Forest. So much resources and time were spent trying to free the forest from the monster's clutches. If Link hadn't already been with them, and if he wasn't already the chosen hero... the people of Hyrule would've thought of it a waste of Hyrule's militia. Already so many lives had been lost from the previous battles...

A knock on her study door drew her from her thoughts. She quickly gathered the drawings, a curse slipping from her mouth as some fell to the floor, before beckoning the knocker to come in.

To her surprise, it was her fiancé coming to visit. She found herself staring at him as he came in, fully donned in the dark blue and red of the royal guard's uniform; a temporary garb until she could finish the champions' apparel, but one that was long overdue. Even without the hilt of the Master Sword peering over his shoulder, Link had long deserved the royal guard's uniform (at least in Zelda's opinion).

Link looked at her curiously, before looking down at one of the dropped drawings at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, but before Zelda could protest he was already snickering at the design.

"They are aware it's supposed to be a wedding dress, right?"

A smile crept up on Zelda's lips, and before she was aware she was already chuckling. "Oh, and that's not even the worse of them," she giggled, motioning him over to the larger stack. Together, they nitpicked at every little design detail, laughing at the questionable design choices.

"Oh, but this one isn't too bad," Link said, picking up a drawing of a flamboyant wedding dress that was an odd mutated mix between a ballgown and a military uniform.

"It isn't," Zelda admitted, "but it just doesn't... fit me, if that makes sense."

Link squinted at the drawing, then looked at Zelda and back at it again. "Yeah, you're right," he relented, placing the drawing back in the pile.

"There's quite a few of them like that," Zelda said, flipping through another pile before bringing out a dress. "Like, I love the skirt on this one" -- she brought out another drawing -- "and I love the sleeves, but not really the neckline." She sighed, leaning into her chair. "It would make this ordeal a lot easier if I could just design my own."

"Why can't you?" Link raised an eyebrow. "You're already designing our champions' outfits. Why not make your own?"

"You really think I should?" Zelda asked. "But... Father wouldn't allow it."

"And why should he stop you? It is your wedding."

Zelda gave him a look to challenge that statement.

"Okay, maybe not really. But I've seen the designs you made for our garbs; they're amazing, Zelda."

Zelda felt her cheeks grow hot, though her heart felt soured by the notion. She only had to make the champions' garbs out of tradition, not because she really wanted to.

But... it wouldn't hurt to try.

Zelda reached over and grabbed her notebook, quickly flipping through all of the horrible sketches of flora she tried to doodle, before finding a blank page. She was about to grab a utensil, but her hand knocked the cup over. Goodness; she was a mess today.

Link caught most of the utensils before they escaped her desk, and the ones he did he picked back up and placed them in the cup.

"Thank you," Zelda said, before grabbing the one she wanted and turning to her page.

She had begun sketching out the base lines for the dress before she realized she had an audience watching over her shoulder.

"Hey," she said, looking up at him with a mischievous smile. "If we're going to treat this like an ordinary marriage, shouldn't this be a surprise to you?"

Link chuckled. "And what part of this marriage is ordinary?" he teased.

"Oh, you--!"

Zelda sat up from her chair and began playfully pushing Link out of the door. "It's bad luck to see the wedding dress before the wedding!"

"Isn't it 'to see the bride before the wedding'?" he joked along.

"Same thing!"

The two laughed as she finally pushed him out of the door. "I shall see you at dinner, then!" he said, twirling his hand around and stooped into a bow. Zelda agreed, still giggling, before closing the door. She sighed contentedly; it always felt good to laugh.

She returned to her notebook, continuing sketching out the rough lines. Using elements from the other sketches as references, she designed a dress she became proud of. It was flowy, and nature-like; the skirt of the dress reminded her of the petals of a silent princess, the sleeves were long and elegant, and the neckline was lower and allowed more comfort to breathe. She couldn't help but also design her hair into a long braid, making a note of it by the side to also put specks of flowers (preferably silent princess replicas) into her hair as well.

When she was finished, she took a moment to admire the dress. She could see herself walking down the aisle now, holding a bouquet of flowers, looking up to meet the man that she would be married to...

Zelda frowned; no doubt that Link wouldn't want to be married to her like this. She would always imagined that she would have time before marriage, to know the person long enough to love. Though she and Link had gotten along quite nicely, from the time that he had been appointed her personal guard they had only known each other not even long enough to be friends. All of this, no doubt, was forced on Link as much if not more than was forced on Zelda. As the princess, she at least had no choice on the matter of her duties. Link had a choice... until he got married to her at least.

It felt unfair to Link. Already his life was thrown away the moment he picked up that sword. He should be married to someone he loves, not a princess he was only sworn to by duty.

Like Mipha, Zelda thought, remembering how the two looked at each other when they had visited the Domain. Oh, goodness, Zelda realized in shock, holding a hand to her mouth. Had her father really stopped a relationship between Link and Mipha with this marriage?

She shook her head. No, her mind reasoned. If he was really distraught over losing Mipha, then he would probably not even talk to her, let alone laugh with her.

But... that didn't mean that she could approach Link on the subject one of these days.

Zelda picked up the drawing, taking a deep breath. All that was left now was for her father to approve her design.

[ghostgirl101]

Can you please do another for OG Michael Myers? I loved your first one, the fluff slayed me! Maybe reader works at Smith's Grove and takes an interest in Michael, what that would be like, etc.? Anyway, whatever you want!

Being Michael Myers' Psychiatrist Would Be Like This:

A/N: Glad you enjoyed the last one. I'll be doing some for the older Michael Myers at some point soon too 🙃

🔪• Michael's been locked up for basically fifteen years, so he's pretty familiar with how things work and has his own way of dealing with things. You were probably referred to Michael Myers after her scared away most of his old therapists, and since you're a similar age, Loomis thought that maybe you'd get more out of him than the others do.

🔪• He probably won't respond to anything you do or say while Loomis is around, looking in warily at the window. But if you're patient and gentle by the way you talk about things, as if you're just talking to a friend rather than stepping on eggshells with a crazy, psychotic killer, you'll see little changes over time.

🔪• He's used to the routine of you coming in to chat with him, even when he doesn't say a word. Michael does hear and listens to every word you say, even when you can't tell. And you usually can, because his dark, intense gaze follows you everywhere, silently observant. He's a big starer, so whether he sees you near the office spaces when he's taken outside or back to his cell, or giving another person therapy, you'll always get a strong glance before he moves on slowly.

🔪• Michael doesn't really know what draws him to you; maybe it's because you're just too frustratingly nice and understanding to him and everyone, the first person not to have looked at him like he was a monster. Maybe you're just different. The reason doesn't matter much to him once he decides that you're interesting, and confusingly pleasant to be around.

🔪• He likes any time you spend with him. Michael isn't friendly to anyone at Smith's Grove, and most of them are loud and crazed and obnoxious. It's nice when you're simply talking to him about your day, or reading a book in silence, while he stares curiously. It takes a bit of getting used to, him basically watching you for what could be hours, but it's not aggressive or predatory. He's just there, existing with you.

🔪• It's odd for someone in a place like that to be interested in him for reasons other than checking if he's really as horrifying as Loomis thinks, and then frowning because, well, he looks pretty normal? Michael feels a lot more exposed without a mask, and he doesn't have it on most of the time while he's in the asylum. He hates being vulnerable with anyone - even you at first until he gradually starts relaxing and trusting you.

🔪• I don't mean he's gonna start talking and opening up. Michael stays selectively mute all through your therapy sessions, but you've sort of learned how to read his eyes and expressions. He's often stoic, unfeeling, and indifferent, but every so often, when certain people or things are mentioned, there's a flicker of emotion that rips through the dark glare before it's pushed back down again. Or when you're not feeling a hundred percent one day when you're supposed to be having a session, you'll see Michael frown ever so slightly, his eyes scanning your face in search of injury, then your own stare to try to read what's wrong with you.

🔪• He's very protective, and it's one of the main ways he shows he cares. Any other insane prisoner that's been overwhelming you have mysteriously gone quiet or died in their sleep. Michael doesn't admit or deny doing it when you ask him, but if you look closely enough, you can see the vague amusement in his eyes when you cover your face with your hands in exasperation.

🔪• Myers still plans on escaping when he gets the chance, and you'll either be in the car that he gets in to drive off with, or he'll start showing up wherever you are at home in his stalker way. And him as a boyfriend... I've sort of covered most of that in my main dating headcanon. He's quite a bit more calmer than he was while in Smith Grove, now he has his freedom and free reign of his strength. He's not as hesitant to show affection when it's just you and him at home too, instead of trying to comfort each other awkwardly in a prison cell without guards snooping.

🔪• At the end of the day, you probably know more about Michael Myers than anyone does, and he'll most likely understand you more than you understand yourself. It works perfectly for him, and he wouldn't change the way things are. He's never really been comfortable with people before, so with you there to ease him through a warped kind of love, it settles the dark, clawing urges in his head, giving him a lot more clearness than he had before. And you've got a protector for life.

[lucy90712]

Road to recovery- part 8

Masterlist

Part of me was hoping that the hate would slow down a bit but of course it didn't. Every time I checked any form of social media all I saw was people posting about how much they didn't like me and assuming that I'm only friends with Pablo to gain something. I thought I'd be able to handle the comments but I just can't there has been so many more than I thought there would be and people have said such hurtful things about my appearance and my character. Pablo keeps apologising and asking if I'm ok and I just keep telling him I'm fine which is a bit of a lie but I can tell he already feels bad enough I don't want to make him feel worse by telling him how I really feel. The worst part about it is that everyone seems to be drawing attention to the things I was already insecure about which hasn't helped my mental state at all.

Today though I have a chance to cheer myself up a bit as I have a big check up with my doctor to see how my recovery is progressing. I think it's going pretty good so hopefully he agrees and says something positive as that would really lift my spirits. I've been nervous about the appointment today as well which has really made the last few days even more challenging on my mental health but I'm trying to stay positive as I know wallowing in sadness and anxiety won't do me any good. 

Alonso came to pick me up a bit before my appointment; when I got in the car I expected him to tease me about everything that happened with the game this weekend but he didn't instead he asked if I was ok. I was going to lie to him too but because he's my brother he knows exactly when I'm lying so I had to tell him the truth. It was kind of nice to get all of my feelings off my chest and Alonso was really supportive and gave me some good advice. He's been through things like this before with getting hate for his performances out on track so he told me to just delete the apps off my phone for a bit that way I'm not tempted to look at what people are saying. In fact he stole my phone and did it for me as I think he knew I probably wouldn't do it myself. 

Once I had my phone back I went into the hospital on my own leaving Alonso to wait in the car for me. The wait for my appointment wasn't long at all and then I went in and was immediately taken for some new scans to see how everything was healing. After scans I was subjected to a load of tests on my range of movement, how much weight I could put on my leg and how much pain I was in. The testing was rigorous and honestly quite exhausting as it's been a long time since I've done this much movement with my knee but for the most part it felt good. After I had done everything the doctor left for a while to review it all and look at my scans which left me just staring at the wall hoping to hear good news. Just as I was daydreaming the door opened again and the doctor came back in, his expression was impossible to read which for some reason filled me with a few more nerves.

"Ok Lola things aren't progressing as we would like them too internally you aren't healing as quick as we thought you would and your movement isn't at the range we would expect it to be" he said 

"What does that mean?" I asked holding back tears 

"For now it doesn't mean too much this can happen as we can't always accurately predict how quickly people will recover but we will set another one of these appointments in a few weeks and if we aren't seeing improvement you may need a second surgery so that we can see what's going on" the doctor explained 

"Ok" was all I could manage to say 

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear but don't let it discourage you if you keep working hard you won't need the surgery" he said 

We scheduled my next appointment and that was as long as I could hold it together. All of my emotions that I'd been holding onto for the last few days came out all at once, as soon as I left the hospital doors I burst into tears and I couldn't do anything to stop them. I made my way back to where Alonso parked but before I could get into the car Alonso had got out and wrapped me in his arms. He tried to get me to stop crying and tell him what was wrong but I just couldn't he tried everything to help me all of which had worked before but today nothing could stop me. Eventually he gave up and let me get in the car so we could go home because right now all I want is to just go home and get to grips with my emotions as I clearly have a lot to process. 

As much as my eyes were filled with tears I could tell that Alonso didn't take the turn to take me back to my place which meant he was going to take me somewhere in hopes of cheering me up. I really didn't want to go wherever it was he was planning to go but I was sobbing too much to tell him to take me home. We went a bit further before the car stopped and I looked round a bit as at first I didn't recognise where we were but then I saw Pablo's house and realised we were just down the street. I should've known Alonso was going to bring me here but this is the last place I want to be I don't want Pablo to see me like this. I knew we said we would help each other out but I know for a fact Pablo is doing better and I know he's in a better place mentally and I don't want to ruin that by projecting my problems onto him that wouldn't be fair. 

Alonso had to practically drag me out of the car and down the road which was rather easy for him as I'm not strong enough to put up too much of a fight. We walked down the street to Pablo's house where Alonso left me to ring the doorbell, part of me was hoping that he wouldn't be in even though he said he had no plans today. Of course after just a few seconds the door opened and I locked eyes with Pablo who straight away rushed over as quick as he could and wrapped me up in his arms. I wanted to stop crying but for some reason I only cried more once I was in Pablo's arms it was like he made me feel safe enough to truly let all of my feelings out. Pablo said a few words to my brother before taking me inside and allowing him to leave. 

Pablo took me to the sofa and allowed me to settle into his embrace with my head buried in his chest so he couldn't see my tear stained and probably red and puffy face. His hand was gently stroking my back trying to calm me down while he whispered comforting words in my ears. It wasn't anything special what he was doing but hearing his words and feeling his hands on me did wonders in helping calm my emotions which I didn't have any control over. As my tears began to slow down Pablo kept rubbing my back and he even wiped some of the tears from my face that he could reach as I was still hiding most of my face. I never would've thought he would be so good at comforting me I mean he's always so hyper and full of energy I never imagined that he'd be any good at keeping calm and radiating that onto others but clearly he is. Once I had completely stopped crying and my breathing was getting back to normal Pablo put a hand under my chin and got me to look at him.

"Can you tell me what's wrong I hate seeing you so upset and I want to help" he said 

"The doctor said my knee isn't healing properly and I might need another surgery if things don't get better" I said still sniffling slightly 

"I'm sorry that sounds awful but that's not the only thing on your mind is it" he probed further 

"No that's it" I lied 

"Don't lie to me please just tell me what's wrong I'll do whatever I can to help and I won't judge you you know that" he said 

Damn why doesn't he have to be able to read me like a book.

"Ok I've been getting a lot of hate since we were seen together at the game and it's been getting to me a bit I thought I could handle it as I'm used to criticism but I can't some people are just so mean" I admitted letting a few more tears fall 

"I knew it was getting to you people on social media are assholes because they don't feel the consequences of what they say but none of what they say is true" he said 

"But they keep talking about how I must be using you or how I don't deserve to even be friends with you which that part is kind of true" I rambled 

"No it's not true I can't even imagine what my life would be like without you I love spending time with you just because you aren't famous doesn't mean you don't deserve to be friends with me and despite what they say I know you aren't using me I know you would never do that" he said 

"And before you say anything all of the things they say about your appearance aren't true either you are beautiful inside and out and they are just jealous" he added 

Hearing him say that put a smile on my face. Pablo has never really complimented me before he's told me my outfit was cool a few times but he's never called me beautiful so hearing it made me feel a lot better about myself. He must've noticed that I was finally smiling again as he told me I looked pretty when I smiled which only made my cheeks heat up but luckily my face was already red from crying so Pablo probably wouldn't have noticed. Although I kind of wish he knew how he made me feel because as time goes on it's getting harder and harder to hide my true feelings from him. 

Pablo's POV

The pain in her eyes just shattered my heart. She's been my rock throughout every step of the way so far so to see her breakdown right in front of me really hurt. This whole time she's been the strong one never letting anything get to her but finally it's caught up with her and part of it's my fault because we got seen together at the game and now people are tearing her apart and one person can only handle so much. I feel so awful that I'm part of the reason she's so upset but knowing that I can be there for her and calm her down makes me feel a bit better. When she arrived she was hysterical and her brother told me he couldn't get a word out of her so he wanted me to try so that's what I did. I'm not very good at keeping myself calm at times let alone other people but I tried my best and after a while of just rubbing her back and whispering to her she calmed down. It felt good to be the one to help her because she's done so much for me that anything I can do to even remotely repay that I'll do in a heartbeat.

Hearing the way she criticised herself as well it pained me. She's the most beautiful and kind person I've ever met so to hear her say that she thought she didn't deserve to be friends with me hurt but what hurt more was to see that those horrible people got to her and made her feel insecure in herself. Throughout the time we've known each other I've always wanted to tell her just how beautiful she is but I've refrained as I know once I open the flood gates there's no going back. Once I start complimenting her I'm scared that I'll let my feelings show but today she needed it so I knew I had to take the risk. Seeing the smile that my compliments gave her made the risk feel worth it though as I'd do anything to keep her smiling 24/7.

Looking into her eyes as she smiled and blushed at my words made me feel some type of way. I've felt something for her since we first met and I've kept those feelings repressed until now but I don't know if I can do it any longer. She's just the most perfect girl I've ever met and I don't want to lose her whether that be to another guy or to the fear of what us being friends might mean for her. I have to tell her how I feel in hopes that as long as she feels the same way it gives her a reason to stick around even when things are tough like they are right now. As scary as it is I have to take the risk.