#i was about to move out of the flat and go home because this place is making me feel isolated and i didn’t wanna end up in the place i was

[lionhanie]

riwoo as your boyfriend! ♡

fluff, boyfriend riwoo x gn reader!

word count: ~760

warnings: none

a/n: been having a severe case of boyfriend riwoo thoughts like i desperately need to keep him in my pocket

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

never ending source of laughter and (really bad) dad jokes but he’s cute so you always end up smiling regardless

the effect he has on the members is practically ctrl c + ctrl v when he’s with you

nobody can deny that he has some BANGERRRRR jokes but when he’s always trying to make ‘em…. its inevitable that some will miss LMFAOOOO but he’s lucky to have you as his partner, because you always end up giggling when he looks to you when a joke flops

everyone will groan when you’re all hanging out and riwoo pulls the corniest play on words known to man, meanwhile you’re on the sidelines facepalming as you chuckle into your hand. “see, y/n understands how funny i am!” he boasts, feeling super full of love knowing he always has you to laugh at his jokes aw :,((((

i think he would literally have sparkles in his eyes every time you compliment him. he loves being praised by his partner!!!!! especially if we’re talking about something he’s worked really hard on or is particularly proud about 

you’re in the practice room with him, sitting on the floor and leaning against the mirror as you watch your boyfriend replay the same section of the song he’s been trying to choreograph for HOURS. even though it’s getting late, you’re completely mesmerized by the way he moves, his intricate facial expressions, and his (super cute) look of frustration when he isn’t quite satisfied with the steps he just made

“ah, this doesn’t look right. i feel like my flow is all off today,” riwoo groans as he lays flat on the floor next to you, splayed out like a starfish. “maybe i should just restart tomorrow. should we go home now, y/n?”

“mm, i thought you looked really cool though? that footwork you did for the chorus was amazing, it’s crazy to think you came up with it just now!” you’re deep in thought as you give him your two cents, finding it easy to compliment him when he’s just /so talented/ in the first place. “i don’t think you should get rid of everything you worked so hard on, but maybe you should get some rest so you can clear up your doubts about it!”

riwoo can feel his ears burn at your never-ending praise, cheeks starting to hurt from smiling too hard at your words. “okay, if my sweet y/n thinks i did a good job, then i must’ve really come up with a great choreo this time. come on, let’s go eat~!” 

methinks he’s big on rlly casual dates! stuff like staying at home and playing games, going on walks together, cafe hopping across the city, things along those lines :3

ooommmmfffgggg like. i’m thinking about enrichment time w riwoo LOLLLLL. it was a long day & you’re both just washed up laying next to each other on your shared bed just . scrolling on your phones. not a word said to each other for Lord Knows how long…except for the occasional poke to your shoulder bc riwoo wants to show you the funny dog vid he saw on his instagram explore feed… the two of you are just so content being at home together in comfortable silence that neither of you really mind that it may not seem particularly “exciting” to many

if you aren't staying in, riwoo loves going on walks with you, especially a little bit after the sun finishes setting. the weather’s a lot cooler without the sun, there’s less people out and about, and the mixtures of pinks, purples, and oranges from the sunset linger in the sky still -- and he has you! your fingers are interlocked as he swings your hands back and forth as you walk and talk about your days </3

okay…..now just IMAGINE what riwoo would be like if he had a s/o who worked at a bakery/cafe/pastry shop

first of all. riwoo would be all DOE EYED every time u left for work n just being like … “could you maybe… bring home any leftover pastries if there are any today? to make up for the fact that you're LEAVING ME ALL ALONE for a couple hours >:(” literally BEGGING u to bring him home something with his eyes awh

when you come home after your closing shift, he engulfs you in a huuuuge hug that lasts for maybe…. 5 minutes…. mainly because you smell like SWEETS and he literally wants to Eat You bc you smell so yummy LMAO 

im convinced this would be his DREAM PARTNER because wdym he can just waltz on into the store when 1) he misses you and 2) he can get his sweet tweat AT A DISCOUNT bc ur working… oh you're just so perfect for him! :,)

he is SO HAPPY to support you in any way that he can, without a doubt

i feel like you’d text him like “baby i’m really dreading work today :(“ and then when you’re on your break riwoo is there to visit! and he brought you snacks so that you aren’t too hungry by the time your shift ends; you can’t deny that his presence alone makes working a little more bearable, def gives you the motivation to keep going so you can quickly go back home to ur sweet boyfie

or if you’re feeling a little unconfident about the big test you have coming up, so you need to spend a couple hours studying every night-- i just KNOW riwoo is sat at the table with you for that mental support. you’d go through flashcards together, him quizzing you on each one and literally jumping in joy when you /finally/ get a term you’ve been struggling with correctly (he has no idea what he’s testing you on, but he’s just happy to be there for you!)

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[emmebearpaw]

Keeping my thoughts short as I find trying to write about my emotions just makes me feel them longer as I continue feeling them while writing about them. Do you ever find yourself wishing something upon yourself that would objectively make your life harder because “then it would be easier to make things make sense”. Like, no brain, having more symptoms of neurodivergence wouldn’t make things better except for in the very specific situation of diagnosis. It would just make our life harder the rest of the time. No dysphoria isn’t something to want either. Yes it would make it easier to parse out what the gender situation actually is. In both fronts we just have to be ok with never investigating and never getting an answer, because investigating is miserable due to how unhappy it makes me and without investigating I can’t get an answer. Now please stop thinking about myself and stop feeling the stomach void TM plus nausea.

[thewriterg]

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰

pairing(s); simon riley x fem!reader, reader x toxic family

summary; You tried to keep it together to keep him away from it to not get attached but it only take one situation for you to come crumbling down reaching out to simon for comfort —angstober day;14—

word count; 900+

warning(s); age gap, sweetheart is her/your own warning, thinking college student reader so like early twenties and simon is about mid to late forties, arguments, crying, angst, kisses, pet names, mention of violence, simon abt to risk it all, and language

playlist; nothings new by rio romeo

A/n:—GIFs; @astrolux111 & @silenthqll— GIF does not determine race

Simon was up it didn’t take much to wake him and when he heard the footsteps approaching his flat front door he was up the handgun from his scratched wooden nightstand that he’d bought off some older man who he was sure had passed to the unknown by now

The rough knocks on his door frame were demanding and rushed as if the person behind the wood was on time crunch he approached the door the firearm clutched in his hand his finger taking no time to rest on the trigger his hand was on the nob before he swung the door open his eyebrows furrowing not expecting to see what was in his line of sight

Your eyes were red and puffy tear streaks stringing your face your hair out of place as well as your shifted clothes Simon swiftly setting down his defense on standing table next to his door grabbing your arm to bring you into the shelter of his home he checks over your body to find nothing alarming but the soaking wet clothes clinging to your body

“S-simon” Is all you can get out as your body racked with sobs you shoulders hunched and he wraps an arm around you littered with tattoos your face hidden in his chest covered by the cotton tshirt that was a little small on him your cold wet clothes transferring onto his as shushes you slowly moving you into his bedroom sitting you on his mattress slipping your drenched shirt over your head as you sniffle your head throbbing from the continuous tears and energy spent you didn’t realize you were dressed in dry attire until you were getting picked up and suddenly the weighed down fabric wasn’t overwhelming you anymore your legs wraps around the blondes torso lying your head on his shoulder you body still shivering as you felt yourself dip onto his worn mattress rubbing his hands down your goosebump covered arms

“Come on love what’s the matter with my sweet girl, hmm? Tell Si what’s the matter” Something triggers in you causing more streams of tears to fall down your face and you try to speak choking out incoherent words and sniffles simon rubs a hand over your hair pressing a kiss your forehead his brain screaming at him to to go punch the nearest punk out on the street because there has to be something, something major to keep you acting this way

“I don’t want you to leave me” You body wracks you chest feels like it’s gonna cave any minute you feel like your airway you’ll be cut off and your sound will be free from your body

“Sweetheart it’s gonna take more than a few tears to get rid of me, matter of fact you won’t be able to you understand?” You nod your head before your spewing everything weighing your chest down to the floor about you family and how they make you feel more down then you’d ever been without meaning to the situation I particular causing your weaker construction to tip over and collapse your siblings couldn’t keep their hands out of your things and this time it had did it you’d been saving for a new laptop for class it cost more than you liked to admit and your sister god you loved her but she was at the age where she couldn’t keep her hands off of thing your things to be exact and long story short your laptop was broken in your sisters hands you berated her scolded her it was the least you could do for the trouble she caused you

When your parents arrived home you expected them to finish the job rip your sister a new one she ran into your father arms rambling of how mean and what a monster you are and even after you told your parents about what she had done she’s barely get a slap on the wrist you were older you shouldn’t yell at the younger ones defending your honor and standing your ground got you yelled at a stinging mark on your cheek

“My h-head hurts” You whimpered after a moment of silence and it was true you didn’t know how long you’ve been crying for and your head felt like it was going to explode Simon sets you down on the mattress briefly your head still spinning and pounding in your ears he leaves and returns again two pain killers that look like a spec of nothing in his palm he sets and on your cheek gently prying your jaw open setting the drugs on your tongue before you swallow the he praises you for it and your realize how much of a all time low you are

“Come on sweetheart no more tears you know it’ll make it worse” This time you’re not sobbing from the pain your chest but rather the pain your head hiccups slipping from your lips falling apart in his grasp and he held you like he always will and as he always had

He’d glue all your broke pieces back together

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

NEW; sweetheart and simon headcanons

[vidavalor]

Crowley is not living in the bookshop in S2 because he's trying to protect Aziraphale. He's lost his flat and he's got Shax popping up unannounced everywhere and he knows that Heaven and Hell might be leaving them alone but it won't be forever. He's afraid of what could happen if Heaven and Hell find out that he and Aziraphale are living together. Aziraphale asked him to stay in the bookshop-- and Crowley does on some nights-- but he makes sure Hell knows that he's living in his car as a way of trying to protect them.

Aziraphale has been trying to convince Crowley that he doesn't need to do this. S2 suggests he's been trying to get Crowley to just move in already. His look of irritation when Crowley moves his plants back into The Bentley upon Aziraphale returning from Edinburgh suggests he was hoping that Crowley would just leave them in the shop and leave himself in there while he was at it. He later tries to calm Crowley-- who is talking about having been up all night with anxiety-- by telling him to go relax in the bookshop, illustrating that he knows that the demon-free zone is a calming place for Crowley and trying to remind him that it's his home, too.

I don't think it's that Aziraphale didn't ask. I think it's that Crowley said no as a way of trying to protect Aziraphale and Aziraphale loves the gentlemanly-ness of it but he's also just like oh, Crowley, will you just come inside and get under some tartan blankets and let me make you a cocoa already? Every night? Forever?

[vanderilnde]

a more fleshed-out version from the third prompt of this post of mine.

cw for emotional manipulation, breaking in, stalking, smut, babytrapping, and dubcon to be safe

simon riley/reader

-

Something is wrong. 

Your suitcase is halfway past the threshold of your front door, halfway past your new grave, when you notice the hum of salt and tobacco in the air. Discomfort licks your insides and binds to your skin so heavily that you begin to sweat. A tinny sound peals out as you rearrange your keys between your knuckles, clenching it, and step inside your flat. 

Your heels are at the foot of your shoe rack. Your coat isn’t where it’s supposed to be, crimped in a pool on the floor. Your framed photographs are all inched to the left—you know this because you committed their placement to your memory—because you feared this would happen.

Something is seriously, gravely wrong. 

You feel like you’re lost at sea. Dull-headed and impaired under the alluring melody of a blood-thirsty siren. Walking towards their call, your legs moving before your mind can, spit in the presentiment of fear the same way insects get caught in spiderwebs. Stuck, and about to be eaten.  

You trek further into your flat, following the telltale signs that someone has been here—is here. A general shift in air. The stench of stale herbs and metal. A trail of silt on your hardwood floors, that of which could only be caused by certain mud-clogged boots tracking into your flat.

Here, you pause. On the threshold of your kitchen. Your stomach turns inside out and if it weren’t for your ribs, your heart would have burst out of your chest. 

It’s like you’re walking on glass. Every thin sliver that pokes your skin, invading you, is a splinter of fear. And it also makes it so that you can’t walk away—you’re frozen in place, watching him above your stove, setting a kettle to boil. 

He hears your squeak. Simon turns around, cotton-plated in his civvies, and hums. 

“Welcome home, Love.” 

The moisture leaves your mouth and rushes to your eyes. A film of dew materialises on top of your waterline. It’s thick and pearlescent and clouds your vision, turns Simon into an incorporeal blob in your vision, turning him into a trick of your eyes that you hope will go away after you blink.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Simon rests himself against your kitchen counter. He crosses his tattooed arms over his chest, tilting his head, and bends his lips into an unseemly smile.

“How was your friend’s place?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?” You try getting your anger across, but your voice betrays your emotions. It’s heavily distorted by fear, waning, so much so that it makes him blandly chuckle. Like he can smell the terror roiling off of you. Like he feeds from it.

“How did you get in?”

Simon shrugs. “I’ve got a copy of the key.” 

“I changed the damn locks.”

“I got new ones,” he says.

“We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” Simon snarls. “When I was at my fuckin’ lowest. You broke up with me and I didn’t agree to tha’ shit.”

“Simon–” a gust of disbelief cuts your sentence short. You grip your hair at its roots, tugging it, twisting it, coiling your face in frustration. “Simon, you need to leave.”

“You’re talkin’ like that ‘cause you’re mad at me. Give it a few minutes, and you won’t be.”

“Are you fucking insane!?” You yell. You draw towards him and slam the kettle off the stove. “You broke into my flat!”

“I had a key,” Simon says. He steps towards you, bullying you backwards until the hind of your spine catches on the cold granite of your countertop. Until your back bends over it, Simon, looming over you. “I’ve always told you to use the deadbolt.”

You bite your lip. The blood sticking to the roof of your mouth isn’t as bitter as Simon’s eyes. His are cold, depthless. 

“Fuck off.”

Then, Simon flips. His expression shifts in a whirlwind of seconds. Now, his brunette eyebrows are pursed and his lips are pointed down. His head is ensconced on your neck, his shoulder suddenly laden with an invisible weight as he kittens into you.

“Just came ‘cause I wanted to talk…” he mumbles. “One a’ my men died on me yesterday. Got early R&R for it. Thought you’d be happy to see me...”

You’re motionless as Simon clemently begins kissing your neck. You split your hands on his chest and try shoving him away, but he doesn’t move. He’s as solid as rock. Pushing himself into you, grovelling into your sleek skin. 

A phantom chain is tightening around your throat. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what you can say. You feel that with any words that poise themselves on your tongue, Simon won’t take kindly to. 

“Simon… I’m sorry for you. I really am,” you slip out from under him and step back. “But this isn’t the way to go about it. We’re adults. And I’m asking you to leave.”

Simon raises his head, lukewarm. He stares at you through his half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily, clenching his fist around the lip of your countertop. Thickly, you swallow. You fidget with your cardigan and hope it will offset the discomfort hanging in the air. Simon takes a deep breath, sucking it all up—the discomfort, the presentiment—and you expect his huffing to precede an explosive reaction, but it doesn’t come. He just slips himself off the island and turns around, quiet when he speaks.

“Yeah,” he hums. “My old man didn’t want anythin’ to do with me, so why should you?” 

Your eyes widen. Though you’ve spent so much time trying to bury it, trying to familiarise yourself with Simon’s sick gambits, a pang of guilt hits you hard.

“Don’t say things like that,” you point an accusing finger to his chest, “it isn’t fair.” 

“No, no,” he grumbles. “Makes sense, does’n’it? My old man walked out on me, so I should handle you walking out on me, too.”

Simon shudders with a long breath. He slaps his face into his hands, and it’s at this point, does your knee-jerk impulse to comfort him take hold of you. The last of your even-tempered brain screams at you—he’s trying to ply you with a humanised side of him, but that side died a long time ago—but you press forward and awkwardly bring him into your arms, patting him on the back. 

“Simon, I’m… sorry, okay?” He buries his head in your neck, nips at your skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t you jus’ yell at me tomorrow?” He asks. Simon slips his hands into the depression of your waist, pulling you against his chest. Against the ever-rising tent of his jeans. 

Your mind protests, but Simon keeps you close. He stinks of sweat, impairing you with it, spinning you around and pushing you against the counter. 

“Simon–”

“Shhh,” he hums, catching his fingers on the hem of your leggings. “Y’said we can talk later. ’m tired, Love. Just need you right now.” 

Any protests rot on your tongue because the wind is knocked out of you as you’re folded over the counter. Simon’s hands travel, gripping every part of you, rekindling old bruises left behind and making space for new ones. 

He ruts into you, cock fattening in his boxers and stressing against his jeans. He slides a hand over the divots of your spine and bends it around your neck, hoisting your head back, huffing into your ear. 

“You’ve no idea how much I missed y’Love,” Simon’s humping you now. Rutting himself against your ass with unrestrained vigour. He bites the husk of your ear, flattens you against the counter, and sinks a hand below your waistband. He spreads your pussy open like the shell of a fruit, pushing his thick fingers into its flesh, knuckle-deep and kneading you. 

“How’s here?” He grumbles. You whine, and he twists himself deeper. “What about there?” 

Your mind and body wrestle between pushing him away and yielding under his touch. Simon fucks his fingers a little deeper, a little meaner, into you, and chuckles when you squeal. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, and you see a sliver of bared teeth as his lips hitch up into a gnarled smile. “Ah, so that’s the spot, innit?”

You’re dew-skinned and fuzzy when Simon throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom. Your tongue is heavy and numb and bootless against any objections as he throws you on the mattress, standing balefully at the foot of the bed. 

If you were a child, you’d hide under your sheets until he disappeared. But you’re not a child, and Simon doesn’t disappear. He sinks his knees into your bed and swipes his shirt off over his head, unbuckling his belt in one slick motion. 

He unzips his jeans and doesn’t even pull his balls out, just cups the gauze of his boxers beneath it and leans onto his hands.

A pearlescent bead of precum slips down the slit of Simon’s dick and drools onto your comforter. He wraps his hand around it, slips his palm up and down, tugging down your pants.

Your legs kick into a paltry complaint, but Simon pins your legs down. 

“No reason in fighting,” he says, rubbing his cockhead against your clit, “You’re so wet, Love.”

Simon nudges your panties to the side and thumbs your clit. Leans in for a biting kiss and swallows your moans, slapping his fat cock against your puffy, wet cunt. 

“Missed me just as bad, eh?” He huffs, setting his dick against your winking hole, pushing past your first ring of muscle and rolling at the sticky sound of your cunt spreading open.

“Simon–” you hic, latching onto his forearms. Trying to offset his bruising grip on your hips as he falls into a steady, deep rhythm. “At least wear a condom.”

He’s so thick, so heavy between your legs. Hoisting you onto his thighs and leaning over you, snapping his cock into you. He screws his face tight, pellets of sweat running down his marred collarbone. Congealing into the spindly, blonde threads of hair on his chest. Down to the wire of steel wool that thickens on his pelvis, pinching your clit each time he slams into you.

“You’re stayin’ with me, Pup,” he pants, kissing a stripe up your neck, suckling on your pebbled nipple. “Gonna gimme a litter, ain’t you? Just like we talked about?”

A little, lone tear slips down your hot cheek. Simon leans in and licks it off. He stuffs himself to the hilt, shuddering with abrupt pleasure as he skips to his feet and folds you in half, pounding into you, biting down on your shoulder.

It hits you like whiplash when Simon pushes himself so deep that you feel him swelling under your skin. He gives you no warning before emptying his balls inside you, flooding you with a white-hot come, clutching your jaw into a wet, messy kiss.

You’re blinded and eclipsed by pain as your orgasm shoots through you. The pleasure is numbing and makes you quiver, tremble, until you’re gushing around Simon’s cock and swivelling your hips to get away.

You’re shaking when he pulls back, giving your pussy no time to soften. Simon gives it a swat and flays himself off of you, heading to the bathroom. You hear the cellophane of your birth control peeling open, and the successive thunk as Simon tosses it into the bin. 

You try getting up but Simon flattens you back as he crawls in bed next to you. There’s a hand of his on your waist, seemingly benign, but tightens itself each time you try slipping away. Your sniffles are piercing and Simon pulls you close. Brushes your tears away, kisses your eyelids. 

“You’re not gonna leave me now, eh? You can’t,” he whispers, “you’re all I’ve got. You and our baby. You can’t leave me now.”

A pitiful cry escapes you. Simon takes that as agreement.

[bolognamayhem117]

Hot Take: Astarion does NOT hate flowers. You just missed a few subtle hints through Act 1 and early Act 3.

Astarion's negativity is directed toward just about anything remotely pleasant as you move through early act three, starting the moment you leave Wyrm's Rock. First thing after Gortash's coronation he marvels near tears at the colors of the city in daylight. If you ask if he's alright, it pisses him off.

There's other instances I can't quite remember but he's a straight crank throughout early Act 3 and it took me several hours of gameplay to have a lightbulb moment about his newly crappier attitude.

He just spent the last two hundred years seeing everything in the overwhelmingly warm dim tones of indoor lighting via sconces, rushlights, and braziers, or the dingy blue gray of moonlight outside. Daylight colors are something he had more than a lifetime to forget and now that he has a chance to remember that vibrancy in his own home town, he knows he's going to have to forget it all over again either by death or by remaining a vampire spawn forever. The worm isn't going to live rent free in his head forever, and killing Cazador to ascend in his place likely feels like an insurmountable and impossible fight against a literal titan who could stomp him flat without a corm of effort.

He doesn't hate flowers, he hates EVERYTHING right now because it's all going away very soon and if he convinces himself he hates everything then he won't miss it when it's all gone again. He was denied this for two hundred years and he's PISSED at what was stolen from him and PISSED it's all going away again.

He behaved similarly in Act 1 about anyone besides him enjoying physical intimacy. Some of this content was cut, to my best knowledge, but the overwhelming majority of his dialog addressing the PC romancing anyone but him are negative or backhanded. This is for two reasons, I think. A: his Simple Plan just dissolved right before his eyes when you chose someone else which in his mind means he has zero safety net, and EVERYONE gets to enjoy sex (key wording being ENJOY, not simply having) except him... And it pisses him off.

He also gleefully interrupts the bug bear and the ogress, I think for the same reason as the above paragraph, being: If he doesn't get to enjoy intimacy neither do they.

He reacts with anger and disgust at anything he's being unfairly denied. Which... That's fair. His feelings are valid, but his reaction to it is pretty shitty and meanspirited.

The other companions I tend to keep in my party, (that is Lae'zel, Halsin, Karlach, and Wyll) however, are actually appearing to behave pretty patiently with him in Act 3 which I find interesting.

In the instance with the flowers Karlach doesn't bother trying to convince him otherwise of his opinion, she just tells him how they make her feel instead and rather than getting snippy or doubling down he more or less agrees to disagree. I also don't recall anyone disagreeing with Astarion during Gale's last quest tasks when he mentioned that he quit praying to gods who wouldn't hear him a long time ago but to be fair, I think the gods did everybody in this crew dirty and they all know it. It seems like they're consciously giving him the space to be mad about things, is what I'm saying.

Everyone I know including myself who crawled out of a long-term hot garbage situation kinda went wild for a bit with freedom, spoke poorly, behaved strangely, had extreme emotional reactions to things, and made some particularly terrible choices. I think that's just a part of recalibrating yourself, healing and learning how to be okay again.

Point is, I wouldn't conflate too many of the turbo-negative things he says with how he actually feels about anything. We certainly know what he says and what he feels are two very different things.

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[bleedingoptimism]

Steve likes to watch youtube videos of a guy who restores old consoles. It soothing to him, it relaxes him. He likes watching how he restores them, fixes them, makes them look brand new.

He also enjoys watching him work for… other reasons. Weirdly, he thinks the guy is kind of hot, even if he never shows his face. He looks fit, with the way his shirts stretch over his chest and are loose on his tiny waist and he’s always wearing cool belts, black leather with studs or chains. He likes the way he moves around, manic and a little clumsy but incredibly precise when necessary.

Steve especially likes watching his hands, thick strong fingers, bony wrists, noticeable veins, and short clean nails that sometimes have chipped black polish adorning them.

He sometimes thinks about those hands when he's alone, but, well… no one needs to know about that.

🎮🤲💖

Eddie has a fairly popular youtube channel… And a huge crush on his next-door neighbor. He simply cannot decide if the dude is cutter than hot or vice-versa.

'He sure is nice, though,' he thinks, when one day he gets a large package of replacement parts that he’s struggling to get inside and the guy walks up to him, asks if he needs any help, and takes the heaviest box with no effort at all.

He says his name is Steve and then stares at Eddie's hand for a really long time when Eddie extends it for him to shake after getting the boxes inside his studio.

He hears Steve’s little 'oh', under his breath and then sees him blush prettily before mumbling ‘He needs to go, now.' And stumbling out of Eddie’s place.

Eddie chuckles to himself as he watches him leave, definitely cute AND hot in equal parts.

🎮🤲💖

A few weeks later Steve's mom tells him she needs help getting rid of some of his nonno's old things and he finds a LOT of cool stuff that look just like the ones Eddie restores on his channel.

He and Eddie have been slowly getting friendlier over these last couple of weeks and he’s been dying to have an excuse to talk to him more, so he takes the items home and then goes to Eddie's and very nervously tries to offer them to him but doesn't know how to explain he knows he's a youtuber without looking like a weirdo because Eddie’s never shown his face.

He stumbles and blushes a lot, barely making any sense and Eddie mistakenly thinks he's trying to ask him out and says, 

"I'd love to go on a date with you," Smiling and hiding his dimples behind a lock of hair he's been playing with since the moment Steve started stuttering.

Steve completely forgets what he was trying to say or do and says he'll pick him out at 6.

The date is amazing, it feels like they are meant to be. They get along so well, talking, laughing, and already making fun of each other as if they’re old friends. And they are definitely attracted to one another. If the way Eddie practically tackles Steve with his rush to get his mouth on him when they get back, it’s any indication.  

Steve is very on board with this and he enthusiastically kisses him back. They kiss desperately as he fumbles with his door handle to get it open. When he succeeds, he walks them backward into his place not wanting to stop kissing Eddie, but stumbles and falls flat on his ass.

When Eddie turns on the light he sees Steve sprawled on top of a bunch of boxes full of old technology. A lot of emotions go through his face, ‘he’s so expressive’ Steve thinks a little enamored, having still not realized how much trouble he’s in.

But Eddie looks confused, then shocked and scared, and finally, angry,

"Steve, what the fuck?"

‘Oh, shit…’

“I can explain!” he says immediately, standing up and walking toward Eddie as he backs away,

“I didn’t want to ask you out-” Steve starts but interrupts himself when Eddie huffs, turns, and starts walking towards his own apartment, “Shit, fuck! No- That’s not what I meant, Eddie! Wait-”

He turns again and glares at Steve but then his eyes go wide, “Steve,”

“Please, let me explain-”

“Steve-”

“I did- do! Want to ask you out! I like yo-”

“Steve!” Eddie screams and Steve stops, shocked, and finally focuses. Eddie is staring at him and he’s so pale even his freckles have changed color. But no, wait. He’s not staring at him, he’s staring at his arm and Steve looks down to see… a lot of blood.

“Oh,” he says faintly. He must have cut himself on a sharp edge when he fell. Too worried about Eddie, he hadn’t even noticed the pain, but now that he’s seeing the cut, it fucking hurts.

“Oh,” he says again, realizing he’s feeling kind of dizzy, ‘that's way too much blood,’ he thinks.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie huffs, takes off his flannel shirt and wrapping it around Steve's arm, he pulls Steve by his other hand toward his van.

“Oh no, your cute shirt,” he mumbles and hears Eddie snort before he slams the door of the passenger seat and goes to the driver’s one.

They go to the hospital in silence. It's tense. Steve tries to explain himself but Eddie shuts him up harshly, tells him to save his energy.

Even so, when they get there, Eddie still holds him gently by his good arm as he helps him inside. He tells the nurse what happened because Steve is having a hard time focusing right now and then tells him he’ll wait outside for him.

He gets stitches and a tetanus shot just in case because he doesn't remember when was the last time he got one and gets weird looks when he refuses painkillers, but no arguments. He’s given a little juice box and is told he can't get up until he finishes it.

A few seconds after the nurse leaves, the door opens and Eddie walks in. Steve looks up and smiles at him, but Eddie doesn’t smile back and Steve shrinks a little on himself.

Eddie sits on the chair facing the overbed table Steve is perched on and sighs, moving his hand in little circles motioning like, ‘Well go on. Explain yourself’

Steve looks around the room and thinks about where to start. He can't look Eddie in the eye, so he stares at the little juice box in his hands. It's got a cartoon orange in the front. The drawing it’s awful and kind of scary.

Taking a deep breath, he starts, “I've been watching your videos for a long time now. I have- I am- I-”

He fumbles for what to say, even if this date is already ruined…it's not exactly a good first date topic, is it? How fucked up he’s inside.

In a flash, images of his father’s violence, running from home with his mom, going to live with his nonno, taking care of him as he slowly lost his mind with age while his mom worked her ass off to feed them, getting cheated on, losing his “friends” because he didn't want to bully freshmen, working as a babysitter and getting almost beat up to death by his kid’s stepbrother… he shakes his head and shrugs,

“I've been through some…stuff” is what he says in the end, looking up at Eddie. He doesn't look mad anymore, his expressive eyes look concerned. Steve worries about what was it Eddie saw in his own expression, but it surprises him how easily he read him. He’s usually so good at hiding it. 

He breathes in again and keeps going, “Your videos, they calm me down when I've, sometimes I get anxious and-” he clears his throat, again, not wanting to tell Eddie about the panic attacks, the nightmares.

But it seems he doesn't have to, Eddie looks at him like he gets it.

It makes Steve want to keep talking, “Watching you work, seeing you fix things, leave them like new, no sca- marks, no problems, just working again and beautifully clean. It makes me feel better.” 

Eddie gives him a small smile and Steve returns it, “I really like your hands…” he blurts out and then closes his mouth quickly, blushing furiously.

Eddie’s eyes go wide and then he smirks and stands up slowly walking up to him and taking Steve’s hands on his own, they both stare at their joined hands for a while, the touch feather-like and soft.

“You recognized me because of my hands?” Eddie asks him a little incredulous.

Steve giggles, “I saw the logo for your channel on your studio that day I helped you with the boxes,” he clarifies sheepishly.

Eddie blushes and opens his mouth in a silent ‘oh,’

Steve draws small circles on Eddie's knuckles with his thumbs, “When I came over today, I was just trying to offer you those stuff at my place, they were my grandfather's” he explains, “I didn’t know how to say I knew who you were without looking like a weirdo and I got nervous and you thought I was going to ask you out and I wasn’t planning to but you are so beautiful I-

Eddie kisses his cheek and Steve shuts up and looks at him surprised,

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Eddie says, “I thought- I don’t know what I thought- I was just upset you didn’t actually like me.” 

And Steve immediately answers, “I like you” a little too excitedly.

Eddie smiles at him so warmly it makes his heart rate pick up, “Good. I like you too.”

He blushes and looks down at their hands again unsure, “Do you really? Even tho I’m…”

“What?” Eddie asks, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

“Broken?” Steve whispers.

Eddie hums and drops his hands to hold his face, “Not broken, baby” he says lovingly and kisses the crease between Steve’s brows, the top of his eyelid, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. Then hugs him and Steve buries his face on Eddie's neck, and breathes him in.

A minute goes by or an hour, Steve is not sure, and Eddie leans back enough to kiss him again softly and whispers, “Some things don't need to be fixed Steve, just held.” 

𝒻𝒾𝓃

coffee? a hug? ☕🥐💕

[wosoamazing]

Rescue

Barça Femeni x Teen!Reader (Mainly Alexia)

Based off of this request. (And also vaguely off of Lauren Daigle's song - more so just the title, but it kind of under lays the fic I guess.)

WARNINGS: Attempted Sexual Assault References (flack backs), Abusive Father (physical and emotional), drinking/drunk, slight mentions of implied sick (doesn't happen). Let me know if anything else

The team were always suspicious about your home life and what it was actually like but you always brushed them off when they questioned and no one had tried to push further until recently.

“Y/N, we missed you last night, what happened?” Lucy asked you as she walked in, most of the team following behind her.

“Oh, sorry I was going to message but I must’ve forgotten, I felt a little sick so I thought it was best to stay home,” you told them, causing Alexia to move towards you with her hand out, which you dodge, “but I’m fine now,” you smiled at your captain and she gave you a fake smile back.

That was far from the truth but you didn’t want to tell them what happened. You were in your room making some finishing touches before you left to go out with them, when one of your Dad’s friends had walked into your room, you thought you had locked your door but you must’ve forgotten. He walked up behind you and his body was pressed against yours before he slinked his hand up under your dress and brushed his hand over your upper thigh. You snapped around and punched him before you ran, you could hear him yelling at you afterwards, and you Dad yelling at him, but all you could do was run, and to the safe place you knew no one would come looking for you. Thanking the heavens above that Jona somehow gave you a pass that meant you could go to the training grounds at all times. You quickly got changed into your training kit and took off your makeup before setting an alarm on your phone and falling asleep on one of the couches.

That day during treatment you flinched every time one of the physios touched you, and when he moved his hand up to your thigh you felt your body tense up and your breath becoming laboured, when he applied pressure to start working you bolted straight out of the room, the touch bringing back all the feelings from the night before. You found yourself in a room, full of your teammates, who all worried over but when you finally calmed back down they all left except for one, your captain. Who gave you a pointed look as you made contact with her eyes.

“I’m fine” you reiterated to her for probably the 100th time that hour.

“You know you can talk to us anytime, about anything,” Alexia reassured you.

“Si, I do, but I don’t need to because I’m fine,” she gave you a very unconvincing nod before walking out, leaving you to be by yourself. The team knew you weren’t fine. You constantly showed up to training with bruises that were slightly too dark or too big to be caused by whatever your excuse had been that time, but you were clumsy so they never really questioned it. However Alexia had kept a mental note of when they happened and what your excuses were and she couldn't help but see that there was a pattern. Then there was the incident last week when you were calling some of them and your Dad started yelling at you, and calling you names. You tried to convince them that it was because he had tripped over because you had left your boots and bag and other stuff all over the floor which caused him to stub his toe, however they all felt that it was a very poor excuse to yell at your child in such a way but you just brushed them off.

One week later you found yourself laying on a yoga mat in the gym, you were flat on your back as you stared straight up at the ceiling. Alexia had come over and placed a mat down next to yours, she didn't say anything but just laid there next to you on her back, as the team filtered out to go to the pitch for training neither of you made an effort to move. 

Several different thoughts ran through your head as you laid there next to her for quite some time. You were having an internal battle in your head of whether you opened up to her or not, maybe she would help, maybe this wasn’t normal. But maybe she would tell you it was your fault, you had a short dress on that night, that was slightly slutty, were you asking for it? Had you deserved all of it, all the yelling, the hitting.

“He-he, tried to touch me,” you blurted out, one side of the fight winning, your words caused her to bolt straight up, sitting crossed legged on her mat facing you.

“Who did? Your Dad?” she asked.

“No one of his friends,” you said, shaking your head.

“Did he?” she asked, concerned. “No, not really, I mean he put his hand up my dress, he was leaning forward into me and he touched my thigh, but I quickly moved away from him and punched him and ran, while I was running he was saying something about reporting me for hitting him, but I don’t think he did because I could hear Dad saying something about them finding out if he did because the police would show up to the house,” you said as tears started to flow out of your eyes.

“Find what out?” Alexia asked, confused, wondering what had been happening.

“That he abuses me, they would see the holes in the walls from where he would try and punch me but miss, the shattered mirror that I glued back together, it smashed because he threw it at me, but they wouldn’t see the emotional things, they would only see the physical things. The name calling, the swearing, they couldn’t see that, it would be his word against mine,” you continued as your shoulders started to shake as your cries turned into harsh heavy sobs, “I’m sorry,” you cried out as you rolled over onto your stomach, head resting in your arms as a puddle formed on the underneath you.

“Oh Nena,” Alexia sighed as she went to place a hand on your back, “please don’t touch me,” you asked and she obeyed, quickly retracting her arm, “b-but, please, s-stay” you hesitantly asked her. You felt broken, like there was something wrong with you, how didn’t you notice it wasn’t normal. You thought you had a broken home but at the same time, you never spoke about it so maybe everyone had a broken home and just didn’t talk about it, but since being at Barça you slowly started to realise that what was happening in your home wasn’t normal and wasn’t okay, but it was normal to you, to you being called an idiot, or a stupid bitch was normal, being told you were too lazy or not good enough was normal, being scared to take a step in your own home was normal. Constantly living on the edge and not feeling comfortable in your own home was normal. It was normal in your extended family as well, you came from a long line of toxic men, there was no one to show you that what you were experiencing was abnormal, until now. Men drinking until they passed out was normal. Men controlling the house was normal. Women only dated Men, even in a different universe you would never see a Woman dating a Woman in your family. But somehow Barça had shown you this wasn’t normal.

Alexia’s heart ached as she watched sobs rack your body, she just wanted to hold you tight and tell you it would all be okay, but she couldn't. She had to respect your boundaries and give you some control back.

But you soon found yourself sitting in her lap, your body having gravitated to the warmth and safety she seemed to provide. Your hands clutched to her shirt.

“Nena, can I hug you?” She asked not wanting to do anything against your will, you nodded into her chest and she wrapped her arms around you. You suddenly felt safe, cared for, loved, it suddenly all came crashing down, this team loved you, you had never really experienced that before, and you broke down even more. You were now gasping for air as your body shook, Alexia’s concern for you was rapidly growing.

“Nena, I need you to breath, you’re going to make yourself sick,” She told you, “I-I can’t” you told her as you struggled to suck in air, “Yes, you can Nena, just in and out, focus on my chest moving up and now,” you managed to slightly calm down, but it was barely, your were still shaking and your sobs still racked your body, but you were no longer gasping for air. Alexia put her headphones over your ears and made sure to turn on the noise cancelling feature, she needed to call someone for help but didn’t want you to have to listen in, you didn’t mind, you kind of liked the quietness they provided you. She called Mapi.

Mapi, I need you and Ingrid to take me and Nena home now.

[anantaru]

— rejecting his cuddles

including dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, blade x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, we‘re evil

— dan heng

"nope!"

you quickly place your hands on top of dan heng‘s chest to swiftly push him away— although tied with an eased and playful shove, your boyfriend was still left baffled and most of all, supremely confused out of his damned mind.

primarily— since when did you ever reject a comforting, cozy cuddle from your pretty man the moment he rushes straight home to come and see you, principally spoil you with all the bundled up physical affection he could possibly channel and provide?

one hundred percent, never. in point of fact was it you instead who would hug him first afresh.

"oh— i‘m sorry." dan heng backs away, as to not cross any boundaries with you. his voice shakes and creaks in the back of his toughened throat. it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he in fact, did not expect to have such a hard time being rejected by you.

"s-so.. uh, yeah."

dan heng corrects himself— or lets work something out to express it differently, at least tries to spell out a follow up sentence because you actually managed to make him speechless, at loss of words with nothing more than arbitrarily prattles bubbling past the tip of his tongue and leaving his lips.

there‘s a punch of cold silence, stolen by a deep sigh from your irritated lover— one might think that dan heng strongly thought about what he had done wrong or if he messed up in some way. yes, the possibility on you playing tricks on him was always there but this time you really put in all your acting skills into this one moment, carving it to almost perfection.

"can— can i ask why?" he nervously whispers, deciding that there, nothing was as gruelling as not receiving a hug from his significant other, "i don't know, can you?" which unbeknownst to him, was playing a devilish play with all expenses falling flat on top of his shoulders.

you smirk, your body moving on its own as you suddenly shelter his body into your frame, "surprise! it's a prank!" and nuzzle yourself into his chest, cheeks flushed on top.

granted, his facial expression was hilarious, but you could only go that far before the man would suffer from a heart attack.

"you're unbelievable." dan heng rolls his eyes while leaning his head into your neck, his nostrils slightly flaring at the pocketed entry of your signature scent welcoming him at last.

"you still love me though."

— jing yuan

to wholly fool someone, precisely form their running thoughts anew, was it wishful thinking or actually possible? what an absorbing charge to partake in, you figured.

but despite that, you were awfully aware that someone as hellishly meticulous and careful to their surroundings such as jing yuan was without question to be an utmost arduous task to accept— yet, who were you to give up so easily?

your heart had been softly pounding with a minuscule increased pace signalizing your nervousness the minute your boyfriend unlocked the door to your shared home. if you had been honest to yourself, the following sequences that would normally happen work as followed— if you didn't decide to be a little evil today, they never change, you greet the man in addition to embracing him in a warm hug, point blank, and jing yuan unreservedly savored such implementing like no other.

the man sought after a soothing embracement all day long, he thinks about it, and when closes his eyes he imagines it too. it's a crucial source of serotonin to him and he requires it each night before passing out into a deep slumber with you by his side.

"i'm home, my love."

your ears point at the all too recognizable voice dotting a comforting timbre into the living room as you silently moved up from your seat to walk towards jing yuan who had made it his own personal duty to part his arms the second he sees you saunter towards him.

"hello, love." you greet him with a smile, your voice had been soft and actually managed to fool him for the short duration of your prank.

but then, "oh, no thank you!" you skillfully dodge his attempt to wrap his arms around you, waving your hand in between the awkward space of your bodies, shaking your head.

"excuse.. excuse me?" that's a little less confident than how jing yuan would for the most part articulate himself— to underscore his brilliant irritation, he cocks up a brow in disbelief.

but he's cautious, your darling— so don't be fooled, the man had a sharp and blazing eye on remote sections that might go unnoticed to other people, to the innocent faces and crowds, it was jing yuan who was keeping the control interlaced in the palm of his hand.

"hmm?"

you play the guiltless, in the clear significant other a little too well and you applaud yourself for your very own performance— at this rate it makes you wonder if you should have actually pursued a career in acting after all.

while your boyfriend was now feeling a sense of dread in his joints and limbs, the color of his eyes had gotten hidden by a dusty darkness.

"ah, i understand." he smiles, but the way he approaches you was almost tactical, and that grin on his face— on the outside, modest and upright while on the inside, it concealed a bristling confidence that yes, figuring you out was easier than he thought.

"that's okay." jing yuan walks past you, slow, each step echoing and slipping past your ears, his hand too, was listlessly tapping your shoulder once twice, as he made you turn around to face him again.

"i do not need it anymore." huh, for him to not even utter a single complaint, something, anything would do, really.

your lips pucker into a pout when you realized it‘s over, when you noticed that your boyfriend was getting way better at this, as if he had you wholly figured out from the very start— did you never stand a chance to fool him to begin with?

"ugh." you cross your arms around your body, "you knew from the start, didn‘t you?"

"of course i did, love." he breathes his words featherlight, but his smile stays strong regardless.

"i always do."

— gepard

in the beginning of your comical scheme, gepard was convinced you didn‘t want to hug him because he had just returned from training the new recruits of the silvermane guards and fair enough— he didn‘t have the chance to take a shower prior to returning to you.

yet, keep in mind, in any other instances you did not care about said fact, more so was it you who‘d practically hug him for hours on end and pepper him with kisses all over. being the mighty captain of the silvermane guards of beleborg not unexpectedly came with a tightly shut package of both it‘s very own positives and jarring negatives.

while the positives would greatly outweigh the stormy negatives by a tenfold, having limited free time to spend on each other would sometimes be a strenuous obstacle you can only manage together, as a team.

"i can shower right away." gepard panics, he didn't think it was possible for his body to sweat even more than earlier when he fought against the new recruits and your poor boyfriend curses himself underneath the warm racks of his fastened breathing on why he didn't manage to be in the bestest shape for you tonight.

he adds on, "don‘t move, i‘ll be right back!"

the sides of your mouth twitch in an amusing snort and you carry on to gnaw down on your bottom lip to suppress yet another wave of laughter, "oh, i think you‘re misunderstanding me." and step back just a little bit more to accentuate your evil plan and push your boyfriend over the edge for good.

"i don‘t want to hug you tonight." you raise your brows while scratching the back of your neck.

this sentence alone was like a sharp stab into the blonde's heart as he sets his eyes to meet your own.

"like at all." and you finish him off with an indirect blow right against his handsome features, "at— at all?"

if you were aware of one thing, it was that gepard never wasted any time to talk things out with you— basically being transparent and working together, "okay, baby'" he pauses, "listen to me." and almost squeals in sadness, placing both hands on top of your shoulders.

"if you're still sad i had to cancel our dinner the other time, i can try to figure something out—"

how adorable, you realise.

pinching his cheeks with your fingers, you smile, a shadow of intense guilt poking on your heart, "i’m sorry!" you yell, "everything is fine, i‘m sorry." and abruptly lean into his warm body, arms crossed around his chest as you sensed the upping beat of his heart underneath his ribcage.

gepard couldn’t believe you this time, truly, and lets his eyes fall close before sighing out— in relief but also a slight bit of annoyance written across the rest of his heavenly features.

"i‘ll get back at you for this."

— blade

"hmm, you sure darling?" he acts innocent that's for certain but blade’s next look on you, fuck, if you didn‘t know any better you would've sternly stated that it entirely formed into a menacing demeanor— stone cold and fierce as you felt it wash over your trembling skin.

a followed sharp click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth is all it took for you to whole-heartedly regret and loathe even considering to work out a prank against your boyfriend, at all.

"yes, i pass."

notwithstanding, you couldn‘t back away now, quite obviously would it blow up in your face with you becoming the pranked one instead. at this graven point the entire situation had already been in great favor of blade instead of you— the most plausible solution would be to somehow make it out as a winner regardless while your lover thoroughly found delight in engaging in those games with you.

"what a shame." he sighs and tilts his head to the right— pending his eyes from your lips to your legs and up, then approaching you a step closer so your cheeks could immediately sense his warm breathing.

"and here i thought my significant other actually liked me." and slowly whispers his finishing line against the shell of your ear while idly leaving it to his gravelly voice to place a shivering thunder-like sensation on your skin, in this cold your body welcomed the flames of your flustering frame, the furnacing warmth and the fuel this man was capable to inflict on you was ridiculous, but so did you work wonders on his psyche.

you knew your boyfriend, entirely— his sweet perceptions, his personal views and his virtually scary attention to detail for bodily responses of his usual targets.

"ugh, cut the crap blade." you roll your eyes at him playfully, laughing out a frustrated heave with a deep scowl on your lips.

"me?" blade dramatically places his hand on top of his chest, his mesmerizing eyes growing at the size of saucers, what a pain in the neck, literally.

"yes you."

despite everything, you, with the kindness of your heart, attempted to silently move forward to cuddle him, practically leaving your failed prank in the past while blade, in his radiating confidence, was swift to dodge you.

"no thanks." blade says sternly, "i‘m rejecting this hug."

how unwelcomely, indecently, annoyingly typical for your boyfriend to turn this entire malfunctioning situation upside down and play it into his very own favor.

if only he wasn‘t so breathtakingly handsome when he greeted you and presented his confidence so tastefully, smiled so prettily at you too, his shining whites and canines poking from under his lips and greatly accentuating the rest of his bewitching features while his large hands slowly ran up and down your shaking arms.

"tsk." you avert your gaze, not being certain if you're more embarrassed that you lost or that he beat you so effortlessly too, "you‘re unbelievable blade."

okay, hold on— even though you started this game, now witnessing it in a different perspective on how it would‘ve played out the other way around was a little frustrating, to say the least— while you also made sure that you‘re calling yourself out for that sprinkle bit of hypocrisy climbing up on you.

"i‘m unbelievably funny." he drawls back at you with a wink and kisses your forehead playfully— then your nose, which he found adorable and lastly your cheeks before gently trapping your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger to make you look at him, "and i have to put you in your place sometimes, you know?"

as he at last, conveniently pulls you into a warm hug, both smiling and laughing into the comfort of the situation.

2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Just Ten Minutes

Summary: Spencer needs a cuddle after getting home from a rough case

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Comfort

Word count: 588

Spencer finally got home after a long jet ride. The case was grueling but successful. He dumps his satchel on the nearby chair. He spots you immediately on the couch, reading a book while wearing one of his old sweatshirts. You loved this sweatshirt the most because it was long enough to not wear pants. Spencer liked it for that reason too, but he was too tired to do anything beyond admiration. He smiled when you looked up at him. “Welcome back.” You say. His hand is on your shoulder and you rub his arm. He’s warm.

“Good to be back.” He glances down at the book you’re reading. “George R. R. Martin?”

“It was on your shelf, so I figured why not?”

“You mind taking a break?”

You look up at him and before he says anything else, he’s moving to the other side of the couch. He sits in the middle, putting your right leg in his lap. You put the book down and see. “Was it a rough case?”

Spencer nods, looking down at his hands.

“We can go to bed, so you’ll be more comfortable.”

Spencer shakes his head, pushing his shoes off by the heels and letting them thump on the floor. He crawls across your body and lays his head on your chest. The weight is pleasant, and you never miss an opportunity to play with his hair. So you put the book on the floor, and he doesn’t protest. George R. R. Martin has never been a favorite. You place it flat to bookmark where you left off. You settle into the couch arm. Spencer wraps his arms around you, occupying the open space between your back and the couch. You pull your legs up to encase him, wrapping him in warmth. He exhales. “You smell good.”

“Thank you.” You say. “Is it wrong to say I used your shower while you were gone?”

He shrugs. “No. Wish I was here for it.”

You scoff, pulling on a piece of hair as punishment, but he knows he’s not in trouble. Spencer looks up, his chin on your sternum, and pushes his lips out with his eyes half open. You push your head down as best you can to kiss him. It’s a light peck, but he accepts it happily. “You sure you don’t want to go to bed?” You rub his back with your other hand.

He rests his head on your chest again. “Can we just stay here a little?" He sounded quiet, weak. You didn’t want to ask about the case but you know it hit closer to home than he liked. That’s when he gets like this, so you don’t ask further. “I won’t fall asleep, I promise.”

“You can if you want to.” You say, brushing strands of hair from his face. “I don’t mind.”

“No, last time I got a terrible crick in my neck. Just ten minutes, okay?” You huff some air out of your nose and kiss his scalp. “You might end up hurting yourself first if you keep doing that.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Absolutely not.” He shuffles up a little to make it easier to reach. You tighten your legs around him, only a little, but enough to leave zero room between your bodies. Spencer burrows further into his favorite spot.

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader

2.6k | fluff, mentions of physical abuse If Simon still had his family (part 2)

Simon Riley just got back to the safe house when he saw it.

Tommy Riley, 2 hours ago, 5 missed calls

It’s mum. Call back.         

His heart thumped as the phone rang. “Mum?” he said as soon as the line connected. ”Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Oh, Simon…” her voice cracked.

His dad had always been an alcoholic ever since he could remember. He and his younger brother Tommy grew up witnessing his antics: stumbling through the door with slurred shouts in the wee hours of the night, often breaking things in the house, taunting them with the exotic animals he brought on occasions, if he even came home at all.

Mrs. Riley turned the other cheek, making excuses for him. As a child, Simon believed her, that people were short sometimes. Because daddy was tired at work, because mummy didn’t cook dinner right, or forgot to buy his favourite beer… Until he grew up and saw the behaviour as what it was.

But she never left, reassuring him his dad would never lay a hand on her. Simon didn’t trust that bastard of a man, but it was her choice to stay and he could only respect that. It was not his decision to make.

At least if he couldn’t bring her the happiness she deserved, he had to do something to distract himself from the hell at home and divert his aggression. That, and he wanted to help make the world a better place. When he left for the military, he firmly warned Tommy to take care of mum and to be there for her if anything was to happen.

Still, Simon spent his adult life painstakingly watching, waiting for the man’s first misstep so he could eliminate that cancer out of everyone’s life once and for all. The day was finally here. His dad had chased his mum about the house with a knife.

“I- I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back. I walked barefoot to Tommy’s,” she said between sobs.

“How long has this-“ He stopped himself. It was not the time. He took a deep breath, his hand in a fist, knuckles white. “You’re catching the next train to Hereford,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You’ll stay at my flat until I’m back and we’ll figure things out. Someone from the base will call and help you out.”

“I don’t want to be a bother, Si. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said sternly. “I only go back home on the weekends, just stay there. I need you to be safe, mum. Please.”

In Hereford, on a chilly Tuesday night as you made your way down the hall to your flat, there stood a lady fumbling with the key to her own. On the floor laid bags overflowing with fresh produce. She turned as your footsteps approached.

“Hiya, sweetheart. Terribly sorry, but could you give me a hand please? I can’t seem to get the door.” She was middle aged, greying short hair, soft spoken with a Manchester accent.

 “’Course.” You smiled at her as she moved aside. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The key only turned halfway before stopping.

“I just got here some days ago.”

You grunted before turning it all the way. “There you go.” You pushed the door open.

“Oh, you’re an angel, luv.“ She thrusted a bag of apples towards you. “It’s not much, but here. Please have these as a thanks.”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. It’s nothing really.”

“Please, I insist.” She put her hand on yours. “And it’s Melanie.”

You smiled. “Welcome to the building, Melanie. I’m at the end of the hall if you need me.”

You spent Saturday morning baking, courtesy of Melanie’s delicious gift. Even that you devoured the apples throughout the days, you didn’t want to risk the rest going bad on you – you could only eat so much. As you let the pie cool, you cleaned up before making your way to her flat.

It didn’t take long for the door to open. Your smile fell as you blinked at the man staring down at you. His stature huge, almost filling the doorframe as he stood unmoving.

You cowered, eyes darting away. “Hi, uh, is Melanie in?”

“Melanie?” he repeated, voice gruff and cautious. He leaned his forearm against the frame, appearing even more intimidating than the situation needed him to be. “What does this concern?”

You took a step back. “Just… wanted to give this to her.” You held out the pie towards him.

“Who is it, Si?” a woman from behind him called.

The man stepped aside to reveal the much shorter Melanie.

Her face lit up. “Oh, hello, luv. What a surprise!”

“Thanks for the apples, Melanie. I made you this.” You trudged the pan towards her, shifting your weight.

“Come in, come in. This is my son, Simon.” She turned to the man, patting his arm. “She’s the bird who helped me with the door the other day.”

Still with the sharp stare, he gave you a curt nod before you followed Melanie in, placing the pie on the dining table.

“Lunch is almost ready. Would you care to stay, luv?” She made her way towards the stove and muttered, “I always cook too much.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, sure. It smells lovely.”

You helped set up the table as she finished up the soup and brought it out. Simon got himself a helping and sat across you with Melanie beside the both of you. The blond was a few years older than you, jaw lined with a light stubble, but those brown eyes. They were icy, calculating as he glared at you.

Even that the soup was tasty, you regretted saying yes to it as you ate under his scrutiny. Instead, you averted your gaze to take in the flat. The layout was similar to yours, but quality pieces furnished it instead. The large, dark couch in the corner of the living room looked particularly comfortable, behind it a tall shelf lined with books. It was sparsely decorated, and too tidy to be recently moved into without boxes about.

“Do you know if they’ve got a farmer’s market nearby, luv?”

“I don’t, sorry. I get by going to Tesco.” You gave her a soft laugh. “But I can help you ask around.”

She beamed. “That’d be very nice.”

“I do know a bakery a few blocks away with wonderful loaves though. I always buy there.”

While the both of you chatted about the area, Simon was wordless. In fact, he almost didn’t make a noise at all, but at least he’d stopped staring which allowed you to finally relax your back you didn’t realise had been tense. You thanked her again for lunch, and she promised to return the pie pan as soon as she could.

Later that evening, the knock on the door took you away from your laptop. You expected Melanie, but were instead greeted by Simon. Standing a respectable distance from the doorway, he didn’t look like he was trying to scare you this time even that his gaze was as stony.

“Thanks for the pie. Was mint.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flat tone, taking the pan from him. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He grunted, averting his gaze. “I wanted to thank you, for how nice you’ve been to my mum.” He looked back up at you. “She’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “I understand. It’s not always easy going somewhere new.”

“If you ever need anything, feel free to drop by.” He gave you a half smile before turning away.

The blond Mancunian was the last person you expected at your door on Wednesday night. You’d just taken your coat off as you arrived back from work.

“I got greedy and bought too much takeaway. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed. “Really? Too much food?”

“I’m not fond of leftovers.” He shrugged, inadvertently emphasising his size.

“Well, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Mon’ then.” He tiled his head towards his flat, his hands now shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“Glad you could join us, luv.” Melanie smiled as she set the table.

“Hard to resist takeaway.” You chuckled as you approached. Takeaway boxes almost covered the entirety of the table. “Wow, this is a whole spread.”

“I said the same thing!”

“What can I say, I’m a hungry man,” he said gruffly behind you.

You turned to him in amusement. He gave you a shrug, but this time his eyes didn’t look as hard. In fact, you thought you saw a whisper of a smile on his lips.

Later that Saturday as you lounged around on the couch, you looked up from your book at the knock on the door. It was once again Simon in his hoodie, his posture impressive as always.

“My mum told me to run to the shops because we’re out of salt. Any chance you’ve got some to spare so I don’t have to?”

“Salt? Of course.” You headed to the kitchen, leaving the door open.

His fingertips brushed against yours as you handed him the ceramic container.

“She’s cooking pasta. Fancy some?” He tilted his head towards his flat.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

You gave him an amused smile. “I’m starting to feel like a freeloader.”

“It’s the least we can offer in return of the salt.”

“It’s just salt.”

“We wouldn’t be eating without your salt, if I’m honest.”

The smile remained as you shook your head.

“Come, she’s waiting.”

At the stove, Melanie thanked you for the ‘life-saving’ salt when you should be the one thanking her for her hospitality. By now, you knew where the tableware was and started setting the table, but this time Simon trailed, grabbing glasses and closing the cabinet doors after you.

“It’s brilliant, really,” you said after the first bite of the tomato pasta. “You’re feeding me too well.”  

She smiled proudly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not a culinary prodigy at all, but please let me return the favour and make the meal next time.”

“Don’t wor-“

“When?” Simon piped up.

“Next weekend sounds good?”

“Can’t do.”

You hummed. “Well, I won’t have enough time to cook anything fancy on weekdays.”

Melanie swatted her hand. “Oh, you really don’t have to, luv.”

“But there’s still tomorrow. How does lunch sound? I’ll do the shopping today.”

“I’ll drive. Need to pick up a few things too.”

You smiled at him and turned to Melanie. “You want to come with?”

She shook her head. “You kids have fun.”

Simon cleaned up while you got ready before leaving in his SUV. In the sun, his eyes were gorgeous glimmers of deep caramel framed by long, blond lashes. He’d pushed his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms – the left one inked.

It flexed as his hand rested atop the steering wheel at the red light. You could see the details from here – skulls and rifles over fire adorned his pale skin. You wondered how far up the monochrome sleeve extended.

He still hadn’t said anything since he picked you up at your door. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was awkward or simply didn’t like to talk. You tried your luck anyway.

“How do you find the building so far?”

“No complaints. Been there over a year.”

“Really? I don’t think I’d seen you before actually.”

“I don’t really live there. Just on the weekends, if any.”

“Didn’t Melanie say she just got here weeks ago?”

“She’s visiting.” He turned to you. “I meant it when I said she likes your company.”

You smiled. “She’s real sweet. I hope she enjoys her stay.”

When you arrived, he beat you to the basket at the entrance.

“I’ll get it. On you, luv.”

You got called ‘luv’ all the time, but the way he said it made you look away. You couldn’t ignore the tickle that ran down your spine.

On the way to the produce section, the offer sign caught your eye as you passed the biscuit aisle. You reached for the goldfish crackers you hadn’t had in a while.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…” he started behind you.

You turned to him, a brow raised.

“One looks at the other and says ‘You know how to drive this thing?’”

Nothing prepared you for a joke from him, the brooding man in oversized hoodies who barely spoke. You cackled embarrassingly loud in the empty aisle. It was your first time seeing him actually smile. He had pretty teeth, and his eyes finally thawed, crinkles by them.

“That’s a good one,” you said after your laughter died down, chucking a bag into the basket.

The ghost of a smile remained on his lips as he looked ahead. You took it as a cue to move along. He stood behind you as you moved about and picked ingredients, telling you the reason he couldn’t do next weekend was because he was in the military and would be gone on a mission. You didn’t know it, but his gaze lingered on you the whole time.

Before long, you were ready to check out, grabbing a box of English Breakfast tea on your way there. In the queue, Simon stood a touch closer behind you than he needed to, his arm splayed on the railing next to you. You didn’t make a move against it. Instead you tried to make out the rest of his tattoo, but the way his veins budged under the ink from holding the basket distracted you.

It occurred to you people had joined the line when you heard giggles behind the wall of Simon. You couldn’t help tuning into the rather loud conversation. One of the girls was dared to skydive after losing a round of beer pong, and the instructor was “so fucking hot summer came back to Birmingham”. She very much looked forward to their date the following week.

You bit back a smile. You were oddly proud of the stranger. You go, girl.

Simon tapped your shoulder and leaned into your ear. “Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

You only managed to turn a fraction before coming face to face with him. Your breath hitched, not expecting the proximity.

“Because it scares the shit out of their dogs.”

Your laughter boomed before you slapped a hand over your mouth and turning to him fully. His warm eyes returned with his smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself.

The eye contact remained a touch longer, only broken by the cashier calling for the next customer. You whipped towards the lady, gaze cast down as Simon hoisted the basket onto the counter.

He didn’t give you a chance to pay as he already had his phone ready at the receiver, shrugging off your protests. You didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t even pick up anything for himself.

It wasn’t a lot, but Simon carried all the shopping up to your flat. You gathered the bags from him after you opened the door.

You pulled a box of salt from one of them. “Here’s for your mum.”

He quickly took it and looked away.

“Thanks again for the ride. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nodded, but stood unmoving. His boots only thudded away when you’ve locked the door.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

[dammn-dean]

Hii could you do Simon and his wife arguing like pretty badly and their shouting at each other as their arguing she hears her newborn cry and once she goes to the baby room and feeds looks after her baby she didn’t wanna go downstairs to talk to him she just went on her phone on social media.

(If you’re okay with doing that!)

Thank you so much for the request! I hope that this is what you wanted... I changed it up a little, but I still think it fits the request. Thanks again 🖤

Whispers and Words

Pairing: Ghost (Simon Riley) x Female Reader

Words: Almost 3k (oops)

Warnings: Reader is a new mom, Simon is a bit mean/clueless, reader is insecure, arguing, barely there sexual talk if you squint

Staring back at your reflection in the mirror, a small smile on your lips. You felt like you looked nice. A very casual, but cute dress adorned your body for the first time in a long time. Your baby went down for bed already, giving you a little extra time to yourself to shower and get ready for Simon to get home. You even fixed your hair and put on a little make-up. You felt good.

There really hasn’t been much time over the past 6 months for you to treat yourself, much less dress up. Having a newborn was a full time job! Simon had been gone almost the entire time, not by choice but because of work. You weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel any better, because.. Well it really didn’t. You missed him so much, and he missed so many things your baby was accomplishing. Getting bigger by the day. He was home off and on for a combined maybe 4 weeks the past 6 months, two weeks straight after she was born and a few days here and there since. All of that felt like it didn’t even really matter at the moment, your Simon should be home any minute now. 

You had decided to spend the time you had getting ready, which didn’t really leave you a lot of time to cook for him like you had wanted. Instead you settled on ordering in from a few of his favorite places, so he would have plenty to eat over the next couple of days. Simon was always a big eater, and you hoped you could get to the market to buy groceries in the next day or two. You loved cooking for him, and he loved eating your food. As much as you would love for him to come home to a big home cooked meal, this would work just fine. The last bit of food you ordered arrived not long ago, so you started moving some food to serving dishes. You hoped it would make it easier on him, just get home and dig in. 

Simon was due home about an hour ago, which had you a little worried. You sent him a text about 30 minutes ago, a simple, “You okay?” with no response. You felt crazy checking your phone every other minute, seeing if there was a call or text from him. Nothing yet. You stood from the stool you were perched at, tired of staring at the now cold food. You decided as an attempt to salvage the meal, you moved some food to baking dishes, turned the oven to keep warm and began boxing up the rest for later. Your back was to the door as you had placed the last of the food in the fridge when you heard the sound of a key entering the front door. 

Giddiness filled your body, a smile on your lips as you quickly shut the refrigerator door and made your way to the living room. Smoothing your dress nervously as he entered through the doorway.

Simon takes a couple steps in the house, pausing by the door to slip his mask over his head and set it on the side table there for the sole purpose of holding his mask. His eyes then search around the flat looking for you. His tired eyes fall on you with a small smile on his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes flutter down your frame with slow blinks, which make your cheeks warm. You hoped he liked your dress.

“Look at you sweetheart,” he all but coos, with his arm out for you to fall in with a hug.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped once you were in his embrace. Your head rests on his chest, arms wrapped around him as well as you can muster. His strong arms swallow you whole, making you feel a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time. 

“I missed you so much, Si.” Your voice is muffled into his chest. You can feel the rumble of his laugh more than you can hear it.

“I missed you,” he responds with a kiss on the top of your head. 

You pulled back a little to look into his deep brown eyes, loving that he is here with you more than you can even explain. Simon leans down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, which you return immediately. His hands began working his way over your shoulders, down your spine, before gently resting on your hips. The feeling of his large hands on you in such an intimate spot, that is a bit softer than it was before the baby, caused your spine to straighten. 

You pulled yourself from the kiss. “Oh! Food, let me pull it out of the oven for you.” You gave a quick peck to his lips at that and pulled yourself from his embrace to head into the kitchen.

Simon followed in after you, watching you pull a few trays of food from the oven. 

“I’m sorry it isn’t homemade… but I ordered all your favorites. I tried my best to keep it warm for you,” you explained. “I was expecting you a bit earlier, so I kept some in the oven for you. The rest is in the fridge!” You clapped your hands together with a small smile. “So you can have more of your favorites over the next few days.” 

Once your eyes fell back onto him, he held an odd expression, almost sorrowful. Your throat tightened at the look. Feeling like you made a mistake with the food. Internally cursing yourself, you were so sure he would be excited about having a bit of all his favorite take out, but maybe you were wrong. 

“Or if you want I can just put it all up and make you something!” You attempted to sound cheery, but you knew there were barely any groceries in the house.

You turned to the cupboards, looking through them all. Hoping something would magically appear even though you know there isn’t much in there besides some dried pasta, canned goods and cereal. For some odd reason your eyes began to burn with humiliation. Of course he wanted to come home to a home cooked meal, he’s been gone for months and I just ordered him take out. 

“Love,” Simon said softly. You ignored him, heading to the fridge. Knowing exactly what’s in there isn’t much better than the cupboards, but you didn’t know what else to do.

Standing there with the door to the fridge open, Simon slips up behind you. He slowly wraps his arms around you, pulling your form firmly against his. Your breath hitched in your throat. As much as you missed his touch, you weren’t prepared for how feeling his strong hands on your soft stomach would feel. Your body has changed a lot since giving birth, which is to be expected, you know that. The both of you just haven’t had any time to be intimate with each other since the baby. Your body needed to heal, and Simon was beyond understanding of that. Then your doctor cleared you, your body was better and this is the first time really seeing him since.

“You did great sweetheart, thank you for ordering all my favorites,” he whispers into your ear. Sending chills down your spine. “I will eat every last bit of it, promise.”

“You sure?” You question softly.

“Of course lovie,” he kisses the back of your head tenderly. “But Johnny asked the team if we wanted to go to the pub tonight.”

Eyebrows pulling down at that with a frown on your face. You turned your head to the side, attempting to see his face from your peripheral. 

“What?” Surely he wasn’t going to go.

“Yeah,” Simon pulled back from you to go around the island and perch on the stool you were previously on. “This last mission was a bit tough, and we all wanted to celebrate it going as well as it did. Happy to be back home, ya know?” He says as plain as ever. Reaching over to one of the baking trays and grabbing some chips to toss into his mouth.

“Sure Si, I get it,” you start, slowly turning around to face him. “But… Well it’s just that I haven’t seen you in almost two months, and I was really hoping we could spend some time together.” You bit your lip softly, eyes not leaving his. You hoped he could see the desperation on your face without you having to say it outloud. After a few moments of his blank stare, you decided to change the subject to your daughter. “You haven’t even had a chance to see the baby. And-”

“Y/N, don’t do that.” Simon started with a bit of an edge to his voice. “You know how much I miss you both. I can go out for a couple of drinks with the team, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“She’s been asleep for a while now, I know she will be up soon. She would love to see her dada, Si.” You felt your heartbeat in your throat now. If he won’t stay home for you, surely he will stay home for her. 

“That isn’t fair.” Simon stood from his chair. “You can’t hold her over my head. Our daughter isn’t supposed to be used as leverage.” 

“Of course not Simon, that isn’t what I meant. I just meant-”

“What did you mean then? To make me feel even worse about being gone from her? Because I don’t need your help to feel bad about that.” Simon’s voice was unintentionally raising by the second. You had no idea what it was like for him out there, on the job constantly thinking about you and your daughter. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad Si…” You gulped in some air, hoping it’ll calm your pounding heart. “I just have been so lonely and I was really looking forward to being with you tonight,” you explained softly. 

“It’ll be a couple hours Y/N.” Simon firmly stated with no room for argument. “I will be back before you know it.”

“I know that, but-” Cries echo throughout the flat, starting at the baby monitor on the kitchen island. You closed your eyes, telling yourself to keep your face even as your bottom lip attempted to wobble. You felt so sad and dejected. “Okay, Si.” You opened your watery eyes and gave a small smile that didn’t quite perk up the rest of your face. “Have fun and be safe okay?” 

You didn’t wait for a response before heading to your daughter's bedroom.

“What’s the matter baby girl?” You ask gently as you lean over the crib to pick her up.

“Hungry?” You whisper. 

Taking your spot in the corner of the room where your rocking chair is. You set up to feed her. You hum a small song to her as her cries finally calm and she accepts you feeding her. After her little belly was full you made sure that she was burped, then you changed her nappy and she was asleep again. You were grateful she was currently pretty good about getting back to sleep at night. Her tiny body was back in the crib as you looked her over. Perfect in every way. You gently brushed her head one last time before you turned to head back out of the room, but before your hand could twist the knob you changed your mind. 

You sat yourself back to the rocking chair, snagging your phone from the end table you had sat it on when you came into the room. You decided to just scroll for a while, not looking at anything in particular, just wanted to mindlessly scroll. Unfortunately it didn’t last long, after 10 minutes of not being able to take your mind off of him. You gave in, phone falling into your lap as the tears began to fall. You held your face in your hand, mascara long forgotten. You tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to disturb the sleeping baby. Your mind just kept spiraling. 

“How could he not want to be here with me?”

“ I felt like I looked pretty… as pretty as I can look anyway.”

“Maybe I should have expected this. It’s so selfish of me to assume he would want to be intimate with me again, looking like this.”

 And worst of all, your mind started to wonder if he was even going out with the team at all. “Surely there isn’t someone else… No Y/N stop that.”

 You told yourself, nipping that in the bud. Simon would never do that to you, you knew that.  

The tears just kept on going and going, until you had no more tears left to cry. You felt exhausted, you couldn’t remember the last time you cried like this and it really took it out of you.  Checking your phone again, noting how much time has passed, you decided it was time to just go to bed. Using the back of your hands to wipe away the tears as best as you could before standing with a small sigh. You opened the door gently and slipped out without making any noise at all. 

Before heading to bed you wanted to drink some water, you could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. You started on your way to the kitchen, but stopped dead in your tracks before making it more than a few steps. Simon was still sitting at the stool where he was when you went to feed the baby.

“Si, I thought you were gone to the pub,” you breathed embarrassed. You couldn't help but notice the baby monitor in his hand. 

“I heard you talking to her, and humming that song you always do,” he started. “And I was just going to listen for a moment until you came back out.” His hazel eyes gazed upon you, heavy with the weight of sorrow. “Then you didn’t come out, and I heard you…” He stopped.

You swallowed nervously, hands knotted into your dress, eyes on the floor. Trying to do anything to avoid the tension rolling off of you in waves. 

“Baby,” he started only to falter momentarily. “Look at me please.” 

Unsure why, but you just couldn't bring yourself to look up at him. The stool was pushed back, as he gently stood up, his boots thud across the floor stopping in your line of sight.

His thumb and index finger grip your chin gently, pulling it up to force you to look at him. You weren’t sure what to expect, but seeing his beautiful brown eyes watery wasn’t it. 

“I’m sorry Si, I didn’t want you to hear that,” you tried to explain. “I’m just being selfish. I don’t want to force you to be here. I’m okay, go out with the team.” You attempt to reassure him. “I just want you to be happy.”

Your poor dress is a wrinkled mess, your sweaty palms constantly bunching and un-bunching the fabric. You weren’t sure why you felt so embarrassed, but you felt shame to your core over him hearing you cry like that. 

“You aren’t selfish Y/N, and I am happy, here with you and our daughter. It’s where I am my happiest, love,” he clarifies. “You two are my world, and you don’t need to apologize to me. I am the one who is sorry.” Simon pauses for a second to clear his throat, not allowing himself to get choked up. “I never want to hear you cry like that ever again, especially over me. You don’t deserve that, my sweet girl.” He presses a soft kiss on your mascara stained cheek. “The perfect mama to our perfect baby,” he whispers against your cheek. “My beautiful darling.” Mirroring the previous action, kissing your opposite cheek just as gently as before. 

His large hands reach for yours, gently coaxing them from your dress, forcing them to relax. He takes one hand in his and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before repeating the same with your other hand. Simon warily looks you over, you are so beautiful, and yet your eyes are so sad. All because you want to spend time with him, how could he be so foolish. 

“You look amazing tonight sweetheart, this dress looks great on you,” he gushed. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before.” His warm hands resume their spot on your waist. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you blush.

“Definitely not nothing, love.” Simon realized his mistakes, he was always a bit slow when it came to things like this. 

“How about we eat some dinner and get ready for bed love?” He asked sweetly. Large hands engulfing your hips, guiding you to the kitchen. “How does that sound?”

You couldn’t help the smile from forming on your lips. 

“I would love that Simon,” you muttered. 

Once he gets you to sit on a stool, he grabs some plates for the two of you and places a bit of food on each before sliding the plates over to where the stools are. Simon takes his spot beside you, and leans over to you and whispers, “Maybe then we can have some dessert, yeah?” 

Your eyes widen at that, as your duck your head to hide your burning cheeks. 

“You up for it, lovie?” Simon beckoned, placing a kiss on your warm cheek. 

“I- uh I mean we can, do whatever you want,” you kiss his cheek in return. 

“I have a few things that I want.” Simon says with a grin. “Eat up sweetheart.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and let me know if you have any ideas or requests.

[flynnriderishot]

fluff of princess matt wanting a massage

massage - m.s

a/n: been on my tiktok edit grind lately so this is extremely rushed.

you walked into the triplets LA home with a small smile on your face and a bag of food in your hand.

you hardly made it through the door before the pounding of footsteps let you know that someone was coming. you didn’t need to look up to know who it was, greeting them as if it were normal,

“hi, christopher.”

“hey.” he smiled brightly before pointing at the food in your hand, “”

“only some of it.” you spoke playfully, yet sternly, “where’s matt?”

chris shrugged as he dug into the bag, “in his room. he’s been complaining about his back all day.”

at his words, you could feel your heart flutter in sadness for your boyfriend.

matt told you a few days ago that the pain his back had subsided as quickly as it came. so to hear that he wasn’t being truthful broke your heart a bit, but you knew it was only because he didn’t want you to worry.

“let nick know he has food?” you glanced at the youngest triplet whilst walking away, watching him nod absentmindedly, speaking to nick being the last thing on his mind,

“yeah, sure.”

with a small sigh, you made your way to matt’s bedroom, knocking on the door gently to alert him of your presence before slowly walking in.

your eyes immediately landed on the boy laying stomach flat on his bed, shirt off as he tucked his head further into his pillow.

“matt?”

his head snapped in the direction of your voice, a smile instantly taking over his face at the sight of you before he winced.

“hi, baby.”

you walked towards him, sitting down near his hips as you placed a soft hand to the skin of his shoulder,

“you told me it didn’t hurt anymore.”

“it didn’t.” he said lowly, avoiding your eyes before eventually speaking again, “it stopped hurting in the moment.”

“matt—“

“it hardly hurts anymore.” he tries defending himself, “only when i move too much. it’s more tension than anything.”

you gave him a look, “do you need anything?”

he stilled, if that were even possible. he could hardly move without making a face that showed he was in pain.

he hesitated, “i have a favor, actually, if you don’t mind.”

“what’s that?” you question him, moving closer to him as his voice grew softer with every word.

“can you give me a massage?” he immediately looked away at the sight of your teasing face, “actually, nevermind.”

“you’re so cute, matt.” you chuckles softly, straddling his legs.

he let out a noise of annoyance at your words, though you knew without looking at him that his face was red, “babe—”

“try to stay still.”

“where would i go?” he spoke sarcastically, groaning at the feeling of your hands kneading into his shoulders, “that’s feels so good.”

“i bet it does.” you hummed thoughtfully, leaning down to peck his cheek.

matt let out a content sigh, “since when did you get so good at massages? you could be a masseuse.”

you laughed, traveling towards his lower back, “yeah, no thanks. if you enjoy it so much, i’ll do it more often, but that’s only because i love you.”

“you love me?” he mocked, humming as you moved down, his thin waist catching you attention the more he moved.

“you know i do. god knows i wouldn’t be giving just anyone a massage.” you eventually pull away, plopping down next to him.

you watched as he rolled over to face you, his blue eyes staring down at you,

“i love you too, by the way.” he pecked your lips, “i expect you’ll be here same time tomorrow?”

you grabbed a pillow, rolling you eyes playfully before hitting him with it, “oh, shut up.”

taglist: @hearts4chris @timmyandsturniolo @mayhem-72 @luvsturns @knowingnothingnoel @mrsmattyb @itzdarling @julliaaaaaaaaaaaaa @dracoflaco @heartsforchrisandmatt @lily-strnlo @alliehansson @stinkytwinkwinky @mstarniolo

[yjhariani]

When you arrived home, Simon was already waiting for you. He opened the door for you, hugged you hi, and kissed you welcome. Upon walking further inside, you were somehow being walked away towards the bedroom.

You stopped walking, you turned your destination towards the kitchen. Simon, immediately blocked your way.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Where are you going?” Simon asked back.

“To the kitchen, get some water,” you answered.

“I’ll get it for you, just wait in the bedroom,” Simon said.

That sounded very suspicious to you. Well, his body language was telling you that. So, you slouched your shoulders as you looked at Simon.

“Why?” you questioned.

“You just got here,” Simon cupped your face with one hand and rubbed his thumb on your cheekbone. “Maybe you’d like to rest.”

“You’re hiding Soap in the kitchen again, aren’t you?” you suspected.

“Not at all,” Simon insisted, gently pushing you towards your bedroom again. “Just wait, alright?”

“What’s in our kitchen, Simon?” you asked anyway.

“Nothing,” Simon promised.

“Let me go there, then,” you replied.

“Worried I can’t do that, love,” Simon sighed.

“Why?” you continued.

“No reason. Just—”

In a swift, quick motion, you managed to manoeuvre your way around Simon. From there, you rushed towards the kitchen with Simon failing to grab you in place.

Soon, you stood in the kitchen and saw almost most of the walls and flat surfaces were black, especially the area by the stove. One of the wooden chairs looked burned, too. Napkins were nowhere to be seen and one that was seen was camouflaged by the charred wall.

Simon caught up with you and immediately stood in front of you, putting his hands on your upper arms.

“I’ll get you the water—”

“What happened here?” you asked him. “Don’t say ‘Nothing’ because I’m looking at the damage. Did you play with grenades? Did Soap insult you too harshly?”

“No—I… there’s, uh—f…,” Simon exhaled as he looked down for a second before looking back at you. “I tried to cook something for you. I was thinking that I should be able to have a few tries if I started midday, but I forgot for hours and there was a fire.”

Seeing that you frowned, Simon moved his hands to your face. However, he retracted his hands immediately before gently placing them back on your face.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I’m fine,” Simon stated.

You put your hands on Simon’s wrists and moved his hands off you. You looked at his palms and saw redness all over. By the looks of it, it was likely that Simon touched something hot by accident—likely a pair of pot handles.

“I’m fine,” Simon repeated.

“Your hands are burned,” you pointed out.

“No,” Simon insisted.

You looked at him in disbelief.

“Alright, I’m sorry I burned the kitchen. I’ll clean up—”

“Sweetheart, you tried something, alright? That’s great and I love you for it, but you hurt yourself,” you cut him off. “You’re not fine.”

Simon did not respond at first, only locking his gaze on you.

“Did you do something about it already? You know what, I’ll go ask the neighbour for some aloe—”

“You love me,” Simon quietly said, but he looked surprised that he actually said that aloud because he did not intend to.

“Of course I do,” you sighed. “Now, let’s take care of you first, alright? We’ll deal with this mess later.”

“I’m fi—”

You cut him off with a finger on his lips. Simon moved your finger off his lips.

“If it makes you feel better, you could just kiss ‘em better,” Simon said. “I’m fine otherwise.”

“No,” you scoffed. “I’ll take care of them, okay? Just say yes.”

Simon took a moment before saying, “Alright.”

You gave him a smile.

“Thank you for trying,” you said.

"I'll try again," Simon said.

"We'll need a couple more kitchens, then," you teased.

[skyahri]

Soul |Ryomen Sukuna X Reader| HC

Summary: Sukuna meets the reincarnation of the only person he's ever loved.

Warnings: Implications of sex? Female pronouns. Reincarnation. Fear and anxiety.

- - - - -

"Rin..."

It came out like word vomit before Yuuji could even process what he was saying.

You looked at him, confused. Your name wasn't Rin and you'd never met this man before. Who did he think you were?

He slapped a hand over his mouth. Sukuna had forced his way to the surface just to ramble out a name? In all these years as his vessel, he'd never done something so trivial.

Sensing the flicker of cursed energy, Gojo, Megumi, and Nobara prepared themselves. It'd been a while since Sukuna had tried anything. Some sort of pact he'd formed with Yuuji kept him mostly content, although they weren't sure what it entailed.

It happened in the blink of an eye; Sukuna had taken over and stood directly in front of you, one hand flat on your chest and the other on your face.

"Rin... I could never forget the feel of your soul."

Your heartbeat fastened. An overwhelming feeling of fear fell onto you, rendering you unable to move.

What would you be able to do anyway? He's a God, and you had no abilities outside of actually seeing the damn things.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Your name isn't Rin and you'd never had any kind of encounter with either men until just now.

Megumi tried to move forward, but Gojo stuck an arm out in front of him. Something was off about the way Sukuna was acting, and he didn't think it was threatening.

It would be best to see how this played out instead of possibly starting a war that was never meant to begin in the first place.

"What are you doing? We can't let her-"

"Hold on."

They watched as Sukuna looked you up and down, inspecting your robes, hair, and face with a certain softness. His face was still hard and his movements still confident, but there was just that feeling.

"You look so different, but thats to be expected. Are you fairing well?"

You swallowed hard. His delicate touch did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only confused you more. He was tucking your hair behind your ear, giving you some sort of smile, and yet you feared he was going to rip your heart right out of your body.

"Um..."

Really, how were you supposed to respond? What sort of answer was he expecting? What were the consequences if you were to answer incorrectly?

Were you meant to comment on how you supposedly looked different? Was it your features? Your clothes? Your haircut?

"I'm scared."

Sukuna paused. You were horrified to have answered wrong, and now you could only hope he wouldn't kill you.

But he did something unexpected; he laughed. A thick, hardy chuckle that made your blood run cold.

Was this the end? How pitiful. Slain on a random Tuesday afternoon all because you wanted to meet up with an old friend. That's not a proper death.

"A thousand years and countless reincarnations, yet you still know how to make me laugh."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. You only had a moment to panic before a lifetime of memories filled your mind.

You remember the time before modern civilization when you relied on hunting in the woods and crops from the neighbor's farm.

You remembered your parents, siblings, friends, and other villagers. You remember your home on the outskirts of town just against the forest line.

But most importantly, you remember Sukuna.

You remember meeting him as a human, and then several years later as a curse. You faced off against him, and although you couldn't beat him in the end, you'd come close enough to earn his respect.

He stood above you, two arms crossed, one on his hip, and the other outstretched to offer you a hand up.

Who were you to refuse such a gesture from the king of curses?

He allowed you to join his temple alongside other followers of his with the condition you devoted yourself to him entirely. The offer was presented as a choice, but the alternative was death, so any reservations you had were null.

You wanted to go with him anyway, but that's beside the point.

From the very beginning of your journey with him, it was made clear to everyone that you were 'special' and not to be bothered.

This fact didn't hold up too well with some of the others, but what were they to do about it? Argue with Sukuna? Tell him they were more deserving of his attention? How pathetic.

He allowed you privileges that would only ever be known to you, like dining with him or joining him on trips. These small pleasantries became grand ones, like sharing his bed and allowing him to claim you.

Your relationship was equal from then on. You were not just a follower of his anymore. He was just as devoted to you as you are to him, and he ensured you knew it.

He'd always make sure to tell you how special you were, that he was taking his time with you and granting you pleasure. How you were his favorite, and no one else could even compare. How others had not been so lucky in the past.

He'd escort you to and from the hot springs, have humans bring you flowers and jewelry, and allow you to see the most vulnerable aspects of him.

He promised his love for you would never die, and here he is a millennia later proving true to his words.

Once the unrelenting onslaught of memories subsided, your hands met his- one still on your chest feeling your heartbeat, and the other slid partway into your hair- and all you could do was appreciate his presence.

You stared up at him. His face was different, but that intense look in his eyes was all the proof you needed that he was still the same man from all those years ago.

Tears beaded up in your eyes and quickly dripped down your cheeks. Crying had never been your thing in the past, but you didn't care to stuff the feelings down. Such a reunion was an occasion enough.

"My love," you whispered.

He leaned his forehead down to meet yours.

"My Queen."