#it may be possible you are going to need his Help to Readjust to the World

[forsworned]

It’s said canonically that simon riley has trauma around intimacy from torture 😔 If you feel comfortable writing it, can I please ask for a short fic of an Afab reader body worshipping/lovingly pleasuring Simon after they both work through his trauma and he’s getting all soft and emotional and babbling about how good reader is making him feel and how much he loves them and can’t believe someone cares about him this much? I always liked the idea of Simon being portrayed as vulnerable and soft and not this dom sex god a lot of people portray him to be. I really love your work and would love to see your take on this request :)

Soft ft. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Author's Note: So I do recall someone making a post about this and I have to say I do not agree with everything. Men definitely process trauma, specifically sexual trauma a lot differently than women do. While women experience guilt, men experience anger. And maybe it's not all men who experience it that way, but after reading the comic and making my own assessment, I can say that Simon does have lingering anger. Of course, he is hell-bent on avenging his dead family, but all that pent-up energy could be going toward trying to even the score. He is pretty level-headed and able to compartmentalize. He has support from his comrades as well as undergoes mandatory rigorous mental health assessments because that's military protocol. He needs to be able to perform his duties on the field without putting himself or others at risk. He also most certainly gets mandatory counseling. Although he may be reluctant, his superiors are very much aware of the possible impact that it has on his mental health. So all that to say that Simon is not without help. He is not as "damaged" as people may perceive him to be. He's not a broken individual. As seen in the remastered MW's, albeit reluctant he can clearly put his trust in others. He develops relationships with the people who he works closely with meaning he is capable of change. SIGH. I just wish people would break this down a little more, but I do get what you're saying. His masculinity, trust issues, and the type of secret operations he goes on can lessen the effectiveness of the therapy. He's definitely a very complex character with layers to him, but I just don't think he's as weak as you may think he is. It's also important to note that it hasn't been confirmed that this current Simon went through the same thing. He could have a completely different background. Honestly, Activision is so fucking inconsistent but ANYWAYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I hope you enjoy this. Also if you read this all the way through, I applaud you. But thank you for enjoying my work, I didn't mean to critique you and your request, but I just couldn't let it slide LOL

Warnings: PnV sex, AFAB!Reader, Some Canon Simon Lore, Sexual Content, Mentions of Sexual Trauma

"Si—Simon..."

You sigh out in pleasure with every roll of your hips as you grind down on him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, and his cock stretches you out pliant. Fingers dig into his shoulders, marking half crescents into his pale, scarred skin. But something feels off.

His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and upon opening your eyes you find him his half-lidded gaze distant in a familiar haze. He isn't present.

"Simon." You halt the rutting of your hips, cupping his stubbly cheeks. "Are you alright?"

His onyx hues fixate on you. He is clearly readjusting his withdrawn eyes to refocus on you. You didn't want to say it yet, but you had felt him go a little soft a few seconds prior. "We can stop."

"No, no." His fingers squeeze your middle as he sits up a bit. You shake your head, but he's not letting up. "Why stop?"

You firmly grasp his face and his blonde lashes flutter up at you with a seemingly unreadable expression, but you're no stranger to Simon's detachment. Although he loathes to admit it, it happens. The relearning of being intimate is tumultuous for him.

"Because you're not mentally here, my love."

He frowns. "But I want y'to finish."

You exhale sharply. He doesn't even deny it. "No, Simon. I'd feel disgusted with myself if I finished while you weren't here with me."

He struggles to reply. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. It's not exactly a common occurrence, but he's not too keen on having a conversation about it. You never pry though. His therapy sessions are his own, unless, of course, you join him if he so desires.

Couples counseling is mandatory. A rule you established when you first decided to tie the knot. If you had problems that were beyond just a sit-down talk, a professional would have to intervene. And Simon agreed. No fuss, no muss. To preserve the sacredness of your relationship, he'd do anything.

He sighs. "'m sorry, dovie." He caresses your sides, feeling the gooseberries on your skin rise. A small smile adorns his lips and you giggle at his smugness.

"Stop it." You begin to get off of him, but Simon holds you firmly. You feel his dick harden inside of you, now kissing your cervix. A little gasp escapes your chest as you readjust yourself.

"Y'like tha'?" Simon's grinning now. It's his confidence gleaming through the abysmal darkness of his mind. The life in his eyes feels revitalized, and you now feel his vigor—literally.

"Yes, but..."

"'m here, love." He reaffirms, squeezing your waist again. "'m here. Please, 'm achin' for you."

He groans a bit and bucks his hips when he feels you pulsate around him. You return your own moan, leaning forward but his fingers thread through your hair and he brings you into a sloppy, heated kiss. His hips thrust into you slowly and deeply, earning a guttural moan from him.

For a moment as you withdrew from the kiss, your gazes meet and Simon's eyes soften and become glossy with tears that brim over his oculars and spill over the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You coo, holding him close as you kiss his face. His sadness is silent, yet palpable. You're now babbling sweet, sweet words to him as you pepper him with kisses, and Simon holds you as if you're going to slip away. You gently guide him through the double inhale technique you learned from your therapist, and with the sweetness of your voice, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch, he feels at ease.

"I dunno how y'put up with me."

You grin, kissing the corner of his lip. "It ain't easy."

"Oh?" He flips you over on your back, pressing you firmly against the mattress and you giggle into the nape of his neck. "Wanna say that again, love?"

You thread your fingers through his sandy blonde hair and kiss the tip of his nose. "You're not hard to love, Simon."

His eyes soften once more and he kisses you deeply. Simon has never cherished anyone more in his life. You were always so patient and kind from the jump. You were truly the "greater woman" behind the "great man".

He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes as you gently card your fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, lovie."

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A smile blooms on your lips as you watch Tilly play hopscotch with her friend near the street. Snow’s melted enough this morning to be able to draw chalk patterns on the cobblestones. The young girl woke up excited to enjoy the day. And while you’re nowhere as thrilled, seeing the joy and life return to her gaze is more than enough for you. 

The little girls’ buoyant laughs fill the street and you let yourself bask in the moment. It’s rare that you get time to yourself lately.  Your shifts at the factory take up most of your time. And you’ve been spreading yourself thin, hoping to keep concerns at bay by remaining busy. White wisps surround you as you blow a long breath. You readjust your scarf and rub your gloved hands. Cold air seeps through the tiny holes in your gloves. You’ll need to stay after hours on your next shift to mend them. Perhaps you could even purloin enough throwaway remnants of wool to make Tilly a new pair. She’ll soon outgrow hers.

Besides, her health might have improved for now, but you never stop worrying about her catching another cold, one that might be deadlier than the last.

Lost in contemplation, you draw a sharp breath when an object drops from the sky onto your lap. Your eyes widen as you lower them. A pair of knitted gloves rests in your lap. They’re clearly brand new and the wool quality is unlike anything you’ve ever laid eyes on. You can tell from the thickness and vibrancy of the twining threads. You’re tempted to give it a brush with your fingertips, revel in the warmth oozing from the fabric. But you refrain.

“I don’t want that,” you snap, whipping your head up.

A towering, lanky frame clad in the peacekeeper’s signature blue uniform fills your sight. 

You toss the gloves at him and he catches them with a deep sigh. He sits near you on the steps. The hairs on the back of your neck bristle with his proximity, his broad shoulder grazing yours as he turns to study you.

You shiver as his gaze runs along your frame. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to. You’ve done your best to forget about him these last few weeks, even if his ever-lurking presence is hard to ignore. Whatever you do, wherever you are, he’s never hovering too far away.

He seizes your hands, forcefully slipping the gloves on your frostbitten fingers.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” he says. Your lips tighten as you meekly comply. Arguing with the peacekeeper has never worked in your favor. So why even try? You let him put the gloves on you, cursing the comfort you feel when the warm fabric hugs your fingers. An absent thought drifts in your head as you admire the wool. You never owned anything this nice. The quality evokes the clothes that usually head straight to the Capitol.

All the nice things go to them first while District dwellers beg for scraps.

Coriolanus leans back, his large hands spreading over his knees. His stance is far too relaxed for your taste and you shrink further on your side of the narrow stairs. 

As his icy blue orbs settle on your cousin and her friend, you tense.

“She seems to be doing well. I’m assuming the medicine helped,” he notes, smugness oozing from his words. His attention scorches your skin as you pointedly evade his stare. You loathe the satisfaction he draws from this. More leverage to use against you. More opportunities to make you feel small, helpless.

“What are you doing here?” you curtly ask.

His small chuckle makes your stomach coil.

“Is this any way to greet a friend?�� His tone becomes light, playful. “Especially one that comes bearing gifts?” 

Your brows knit. “Friends…”

Hot air tickles your earshell as he bends over you, whispering, “The closest of friends.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He grabs your chin, angling your face towards his. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as stark blue eyes drink you in. “Really birdie, not even a smile? Come now.”

You nudge a tremulous smile onto your lips. 

His thumb grazes your trembling bottom lip as his mouth twists skyward. “Better,’ he praises quietly.

A winning glint sways in his eyes and your stomach lurches. 

“Hi!”

Tilly’s cheerful voice shatters the moment. Coriolanus releases you and relief billows inside your chest. 

He beams at the young girl, replying in a similar tone, “Hi.”

Your young cousin bounces on her feet, excitement rounding her gaze as she admires  the peacekeeper. Your frown deepens at the exchange.

“I’m Tilly,” she announces solemnly, offering her hand to shake.

Coriolanus laughs as he takes it, mirth lighting up his handsome face.

“I know. I know all about you.” A mix of shock and awe decorates the young girl’s features with that information, as if the peacekeeper knowing anything about her was the most extraordinary thing in the world. “I’m a friend of your cousin. My name’s Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus,” she repeats, as if mesmerized by the sound of his name alone.

“Here. I have something for you,” he says. 

He reaches inside the pocket of his uniform and pulls out a bag. Your cousin jumps, her eyes sparkling with joy when he hands it to her.

“Candy!” she exclaims. 

Your face pinches at the sight of the colorful sweets in the bag. These aren’t easy to acquire. 

“Tilly…”

“What?”

The young girl’s expression is dejected as she looks at you, almost like she can sense your disapproval and is preparing to return the gift. Your shoulder sag. You don’t have it in you to refuse her this small sliver of delight. 

You shake your head and smile.

“Nothing.” You hunker in front of her. “We should go back inside.”

“But I want to play…” she pouts.

“You have chores. And Coriolanus…” Your eyes lift to him. Amusement hasn’t left his expression. “is very busy.”

He doesn’t say anything as you shove your cousin inside the house. He lingers by the door and you fidget beneath his heavy stare.

“I’m guessing you have…somewhere to be.”

His gaze drags over you as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Yes, I hear I’m very busy,” he teases. Shock fills you when he leans to brush his mouth against your cool cheek. “See you soon, birdie,” he mumbles, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

You’re relieved when he finally leaves. You chase away the peculiar sensation his closeness sparked as you shut the door.

You don’t get time to collect yourself,  your little cousin immediately asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The pitch of your voice goes high with shock. 

“What? Are you crazy?”

Tilly frowns. “But I saw him kissing you.”

Heat nestles in your cheeks. Maybe from an outsider’s perspective, Coriolanus’ closeness could be misinterpreted, the peacekeeper perpetually crowding your space despite your reluctance. Still, you can’t believe it’s what the little girl thinks from looking at the two of you. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Every fiber of your being burns with hatred for him.

“No, we weren’t. It wasn’t…” you sputter, your embarrassment cresting as the excitement in your cousin’s eyes doesn’t dwindle. “He wasn’t kissing me. We were just talking.”

“About girlfriend and boyfriend stuff,” she insists. 

You sigh. You approach her and grip her shoulders. 

“Tilly, I need you to promise me something.”

She blinks up at you. “Yes?”

You crouch before her so you’re at eye level. 

“You need to stay away from peacekeepers.”

She purses her mouth, glancing down at the bag of candy.

“Yes, but Coriolanus…he was nice to me.”

Your stomach sinks.

“Well, Coriolanus isn’t like the others.”

She nods in understanding. You’re glad she doesn’t ask any further questions. You wouldn’t know how to begin to explain your relationship with him.

Not in any way that makes sense at least.

For a fortnight, you don’t see much of him. You bask in the tranquility of your usual routine, going back and forth, from home to work, and preparing to celebrate the end of the year with your cousin. It won’t be lavish, of course, but you’re hoping to save up enough from your wages to get Tilly a teddy and perhaps even a toy this year.

While most of your family has passed away, you want to cherish the things you still have. Perhaps you can even create new memories for your cousin, happier memories. She has been bedridden for months now and it’ll be the first holiday she’ll get to truly enjoy as a healthy, normal child. 

He appears again as you’re working your usual shift, casually switching places with another guard. While you pointedly avoid looking in his direction, you feel the weight of his unwavering eyes, watching you as always.

Still, you diligently weave the silk on your loom. Your attention cannot stray. One mistake and the fabric will be ruined. 

“Your shadow’s there,” Yara notes from her station right next to yours.

Your eyes flick upward briefly as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs in the air a while before your friend speaks again.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it.”

Her eyes land on the gloves peeking from the pocket of your long skirt.

“By the way, I meant to ask…Is that from him?”

You hesitate a little before begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.”

She moves her head in acknowledgement. 

“I see, gifts now.”

Stepping on the treadle to slow down the motion of your loom, you snap your head to Yara.

There was something in her tone just then, an implication you didn’t like.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head and scoffs, “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“My hands were cold,” you defend.

“You could have thrown them away. I made my own. It’s what we do every year. Make our own.” Her gaze locks with yours. Licking her lips, she seems to mull over something before she asks,  “Is there something going on between you two? I mean other than what I already know.”

Your face grows hot.

“There is nothing.”

She studies you for a few minutes before turning her focus back to her loom.

“Right,” she says.

Your annoyance mounting, you give the treadle a vigorous push and start weaving faster.

You let your friend’s prickly comments fade somewhere in the back of your mind. You have no desire to explore this dangerous line of thought any further. 

There is indeed nothing going on between you and the peacekeeper. You keep repeating it to yourself as your fingers assemble the threads as if your life depended on it. 

It helps you ignore the way your blood races in your veins.

Relief fills you when your shift ends. Tension built in your body and firmly remained since Yara began questioning you. You can still feel it in the stiffness in your limbs, the heaviness in your chest. You make haste as you dart across the hallways, eager to return home.

Your escape is halted by a pair of strong arms pulling you in a dark corner of the factory. 

You look up at him through wide eyes. That teasing smile you’ve grown all too familiar with decorates his lips.

“Why the rush, sweet bird?”

“Coriolanus…” You step back from him. “Can’t you just leave me be, just once?”

He approaches you, forcing you to shrink against the wall. He cages you, his hands on each side of you as he drinks you in. You dip your head, overwhelmed with the scent of roses washing over you. 

“I can’t actually.” Warmth swirls in your belly as his tone lowers. “Look at me.” He puts two fingers below your chin to angle it upward. His eyes narrow. “You’re upset.”

“Just had a long day,” you elude with a shrug. 

He scrutinizes you. Your mouth quakes, his silence unnerving you. 

After some time, he finally announces, “I’m getting discharged soon.”

“Oh, where?”

“I’m getting sent back to the Capitol.”

You gape at him. That’s not what you expected to hear. Though you surmise it makes sense, with him being around less. A strange mix of feelings surges inside your chest. But mostly, relief, freedom. You’ll be able to breathe properly again, without the uneasy attention of the peacekeeper tailing you everywhere you go. 

Though you try not to let your emotions show. You give a tilted smile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You get to go home, return to your life.”

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek. 

“Well…I’ll miss some things about District 8.”

You clear your throat. “I should get back home.”

“Meet me tonight,” he says bluntly. 

“What for?”

His eyes darken, running over your trembling frame. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“I’m leaving. We should celebrate, just the two of us.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You truly hoped to avoid…colliding with the peacekeeper again, in any way, but you suppose it was inevitable. One way or another, he’d have asked for more of you, simply because he could. Your fate is in his hands after all. He could easily make your life here hell just by whispering in the right ears.

Still, you can’t help voicing a feeble protest.

“Is that necessary?”

His eyes flare with danger. Your breath snags as he grips your jaw, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks. Your pulse thrums beneath his palm.

“I don’t want to be mean to you right now, so don’t make me.” Though his tone is soft, his expression is harsh and inflexible. “Just do as I say.”

You give a shaky nod.

“S-See you tonight.”

He releases your face and you take a deep breath. His crooked smile is wide and victorious as he hops away from you.

“I look forward to it, sweet bird.”

You put a hand on your chest as he disappears, willing your thundering heart to slow down. You find comfort in a single thought. At least, after tonight, you will finally be rid of the peacekeeper.

[cameronspecial]

Assisting In Deception (Part 2)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex and Assassinations.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.8K 

Summary: Rafe makes an unusual offer that Y/N takes just to prove a point to her cousin.

Masterlist

Y/N enters Rafe’s office to see him scrolling on his phone at his desk. His coffee is left cold in its mug while his focus is on his phone. He looks in her direction at the sudden feeling of another presence in the room. She walks over to the chair in front of his desk and waits for him to put down his phone. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N. What do you need?” he offers, giving her his full attention. She readjusts her posture with the sudden new gaze on her, “I know it’s a little early, but I was wondering if I could have March 18th off.” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. She isn’t one to request time off unless she is sick and he highly doubts she can predict being sick six months in advance. He knows she is a planner, but no one could schedule a sickness.

“Okay, may I ask why you need the day off?” 

“For my cousin’s wedding. I mean it would be great if I could have the whole six months just to look for a date, but I could do with just the day.”

“You need a date for the wedding?” 

“It’s not necessarily a need. It just would make my life a little easier to go to the wedding without being questioned by my relatives about why my romantic life is non-existent. It also doesn’t help that there are like a million parties before the actual wedding that I will be going to solo.” 

Rafe shifts his body weight forward, placing his elbow on his desk and his chin on his hand to show his interest. He feels as though fate plopped this opportunity in front of him. What are the chances that Y/N needs a boyfriend at the same time that he needs a girlfriend? “I have a proposition for you,” he states, calmy like what he is about to say is an everyday offer. Y/N’s head tilts, “What would that be?” He looks into her eyes and it feels as though he is about to reveal a deep dark secret. “I want you to be my girlfriend.” She sits there in shock for a solid minute; her mouth hangs open, saying nothing. Rafe worries, waving his hand in front of her face, “Ms. Y/L/N?” “I’m not sure what to say about that,” she admits with bewilderment all over her face. Rafe nods, “I should clarify. I would like for you to be my fake girlfriend. I would go to all of your family events and in exchange, you would let me use you to show the media that I’m not everything they say I am.”

“I see. So you want to use me.”

“Well, yes. But I shouldn’t have used that word. We would just make media appearances together and that’s it.”

“Theoretically, if I were to say yes, I need more details on what you would require me to do.” 

“Exactly what I said. You could flaunt me in front of your family. I’d go to the engagement party, bridal party, the wedding and any other thing related to the wedding. For me, you would just need to make one or two event appearances, be seen with me in public a few times and maybe one interview. That’s it. If you agree, we could write this all down in a contract.”

“What about the fact that you are my boss? Don’t you think people will say things about that?” 

“They probably will, but everyone will have criticism of who I say I’m dating anyway. I have full confidence that you can charm the public.” 

Y/N takes a second to ponder what he is saying. She weighs the pros and cons of his statement and in her mind, the cons come out on top. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cameron. But I don’t think I’m comfortable with the idea of being in the spotlight. Thank you for offering though.” She gets up from the chair and makes her way back outside.

——

It’s been a few hours since Y/N has been in his office and she can’t stop thinking about what he said. She turned down the offer because she wasn’t sure it was a smart idea with her crush on him. The relationship would be fake, but the possibility of her catching true feelings for him could be a risk. It would be too painful if that happened and then they had to stop dating. She would rather take the annoyance of being single than the pain of heartbreak. She still can’t believe how calm and collected he was throughout the whole conversation. He acted like he was asking her what she wanted for dinner, not like he was asking her to lie to the world about their relationship. The ringing of her phone snaps her out of her thoughts. 

She takes it out of her pocket to answer it. “Hey Y/N, how are you? Did you get Francine’s wedding invite?” Natalie asks through the phone. Y/N shakes her head at her cousin’s inability to hide what she really wants to know. Natalie has only ever had one interest in life and that is one-upping her cousin. “I did, Nat. Are you going?” she plays into her cousin’s game. 

“Of course, I’m going. I love Francine, so I would totally want to go to her wedding. Plus, Richard can take the day off. I’m thinking of getting us matching hats for the wedding. Well, a fascinator for me and a top hat for him.” 

“That sounds like a great idea. I’m glad that you are happy with Richard.”

“So… Are you going to be going to the wedding solo again?”

The hint of pity and patronizing in her tone irritates Y/N to no end. Y/N responds without another thought, “Actually, I do have a date. Not that it is your business really. Anyway, I have to go. My boss is calling me.” She hangs up the phone and sighs at what she has to do. She gets up from her desk, knocking on Rafe’s door. She enters at his approval and sits herself in the same chair again. “I accept,” she informs. “But I want a say as to what goes into the contract.” 

“I can work with that.” 

Rafe holds his hand out for her to shake. As she shakes it, worry floods through her. She realizes that this isn’t just going to be something her family is going to see, but the whole world is going to know about their relationship. What will they say when they learn she isn’t the heiress of some big company? What will they think if they learn she is his assistant? She buries her stress deep inside and promises to not let it out until this whole thing is over. 

——

The staff lounge is empty except for Topper sipping his tea whilst on his phone. He may be the head of legal at Cameron Development, but he always makes sure to get to know everyone in the company, no matter the rank of their job title. “Ahh, well if it isn’t the new Mrs. Cameron,” he jokes when he notices her at the door. She smiles at him and walks to the Nespresso machine, “That is not a new nickname that you are calling me. So I see you got the contract.” Topper laughs at the seriousness of her voice at what he called her. “That I did. I have to say I was not expecting to see a contract about your relationship with Rafe when I woke up this morning.”

“Me either. All I wanted was someone to go to my cousin’s wedding with me. And now, I am going to be paraded around his world.”

“Well, you could’ve just asked me. I’m always available to take you out.”

“Thanks but the only taking out I’m considering right now is the one where you would need a gun. All jokes aside, I think it’s going to be fine. Rafe is a good boss.”

“He is and if he ever gets on your nerves too much, you can always come to me.” 

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” 

——

Rafe looks around the subway station horrified about the state of the place. His expensive dark blue polo shirt and tan dress pants are a stark contrast to the hot and rat-infested platform. Y/N giggles at the look on his face, “It’s like you’ve never been on  the subway before.” “I haven’t,” he admits, looking at her with raised eyebrows. Her head moves from side to side and she hesitantly takes his hand to guide him onto the arriving subway.

One of the stipulations of the contract is that Y/N gets to take them on their first “outing” as a couple. She wanted to go out with him outside of work to get to know him more than the very little he’s allowed anyone he works with to get to know him; the exception being Topper and Kelce, who grew up with him and were given jobs when he took over the company. The other rule she stipulated is that she wants a soft launch of the relationship until it is necessary for her to be revealed as the mystery girl. At least, this way she can keep her privacy as long as she can. She had told Rafe to dress casually, but she really shouldn’t have been surprised that he still arrived looking like a million dollars. 

He keeps his sunglasses on as he pauses to sit down beside her on the subway seat. He takes a chance to glance at the costumed cookie monster and looks back at her. “Do you have to keep your sunglasses on? We are on the subway,” she questions, leaning in to talk to him. His eyes dart to the muppet beside him, “Yes, because me wearing sunglasses indoors is the strangest thing here. Why couldn’t we have taken my car?” She shoots him a playful glare. “Your fancy dancy car would bring too much attention to us and that is the last thing I want right now,” she explains, checking the subway screen to see how many stops until they get off. “Where are we going anyways?” he inquires, following her gaze. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

——

The pair exit the station and the sight before him is one he is familiar with. He isn’t sure what “regular” people restaurant is around Central Park, but he lets her steer them in the right direction. He looks down at their joint hand and he can’t help but notice how they interlace together perfectly. He shakes himself out of his observation and looks up to see the reason why she stopped. In front of him is a street cart that appears to be selling hot dogs. He looks over at her with a questioning look, “You want me to eat food that has come from a cart?” 

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. And this place has a permit. It’s fine.”

“You can eat that stuff, but I’m not risking it.”

“Stop being so snooty. Eating is part of a date. So you are going to go sit on that bench and eat whatever I get you. If you are a good boy, then maybe I’ll get you a Spider-Man or Spongebob ice cream. Dealers choice.” 

He stares at her in surprise that she talked to him in such an ordering manner. She always speaks her mind, but she normally does it in a less commanding way. He listens to what she says and goes to sit on a bench looking over the lake. After a few minutes, she comes back with two hot dogs and water bottles. She hands him one of each, “I have ketchup and mustard packets if you want. I didn’t get you a New York hot dog because I thought I would ease you into street food culture.” He takes the packets with thanks and adds the condiments to his meal. They eat in silence until she breaks the silence. “So you grew up in the Outer Banks. What’s that like?” He looks over at her, finishing chewing before answering, “Yeah. It was quiet.” 

“Wow, this has been a great conversation. Thank you for participating in it!”

“I don’t know what you expect, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ve never been much of a talker.” 

“First, when we are outside of the office, you can call me Y/N. Second, what I expect from you is to stop being Mr. Cameron, my boss, and to be Rafe, my boyfriend. If people are going to actually believe we are dating, then you have to separate those two.” 

“Okay, fine. I see your point. Ask me another question.” 

She grins at his offer and takes a second to think about it, “You are never playful or smile, so why do you tease me sometimes? It’s the least serious I’ve ever seen you.” 

“You’re the only one who isn’t afraid of me. Plus, it amuses me how flustered you get.”

Y/N is rendered speechless and she uses one hand to put her hair that is framing her face on both sides of her face behind her ear. The conversation flows in small talk while they finish their hot dogs. She takes their garbage and stands up, “You’ve been good. I guess I can get you an ice cream. Do you want Spider-Man or Spongebob?”

“Are those the only two options? What about the other flavours?” 

“Yes. Now, choose.” 

“Spongebob.”

She nods and heads back over to the stand. He watches as she pays for the sweet treats and returns to him. Rafe didn’t want her to pay for everything on the date, but she had put it as a requirement in the contract. He takes the package from her, opening it as soon as it makes contact with his hand. The disappointment on his face is evident on his face and she laughs. “This does not look like the picture,” his lips turn in a microscopic pout. Her head moves from side to side, “Things rarely do, Boss.” 

——

Y/N returns home from the date a little after five to find Juni sitting on the couch, watching TV.  “Where have you been? You didn’t tell me you were going out, Sweetie,” Juni interrogates, getting up from the couch to be closer to Y/N. She chuckles at her best friend worrying like her mother. She gives her a hug, “Did you forget that I told you about my fake date with Rafe today?” “Oh, yeah. I did. Sorry, I’ve been so busy with work that I forgot. How was your date with the Big C?”  she apologizes, sitting herself down at the kitchen island. 

“One. That cannot be your new nickname for him. Two. It was good. He opened up to me a little bit, so we are making progress. It was adorable, he was so disgruntled that the Spongebob ice cream wasn’t like the picture. Also, apparently, he teases me because he likes to see me flustered.” 

The loving look in Y/N’s eyes causes Juni to frown, “Just be careful with him. I don’t want you getting hurt in this whole fake dating thing, Sweetie. I’ve never seen these things end well.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t fall for him. He’s my boss and nothing more.” 

Alexander enters the apartment with no knock and an annoyed look on his face. “Why must people be so crude? Why does no one want a serious relationship anymore?” he complains, settling himself on the couch. The girls turn with concerned looks on their faces. “Another bad date?” Y/N poses, getting up from her stool to sit beside him. “Yes, this guy literally told me all he wants is a fuck buddy. And when I asked him why he still tried to match with me even though my profile said I wanted a relationship, he said that he just thought I was lying and would agree to just fucking when I saw his face,” he answers and lets himself be embraced by Y/N. Juni gets up to rub his back in reassurance, “Ugh, I hate men that are so cocky like that. I’m sorry the date went bad. He doesn’t realize what a great guy he is missing out on.” 

Heat rushes to his cheeks and he scratches the back of his neck. They look into each other's eyes. Anyone but them can see the obvious attraction between the two. Y/N looks between the pair with a slight bit of jealousy. She wishes that she could have chemistry like that with someone, but that would require believing in love first.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @maybankslover @abbybarnesstuff @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis

[lvlyghost]

In the Midst of War: III

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Shadow!Reader

SUMMARY: Home is no longer where it used to be. Left with no one else you wonder who your friends and foes are.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TW: blood, descriptions of wounds, an old friend shows up. feelings! attempted fluff. mind the english🐸!

A/N: this GIF is my new fixation and i will not stop posting it in a long time so be advised 🤩 things are hitting the fan next chapter💗as usual thx for reading 🍁🩵

Masterlist✨Masterpost

"𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔?"

Heavy boots, a ragged breathing caused by adrenaline and the sound of his heart thumping inside his ears, those are the things that Ghost can hear as he approaches the white van. Price shouts behind him but he can't make out what he's saying.

The blood... crimson blood that spills from her wounds is frightening. He's a man accustomed to witness horrible things. Seen the worst the world had to offer. Experienced in the flesh what evil can do to a human being. And simply because the woman that he holds in his arms is supposed to be his enemy that didn't mean he wanted to see her bleed out to death. Especially when they learned the truth.

Ghost had a moral code. Things he never wanted to see people go through despite being consequential to their own decisions. She had decided to join the army. She had decided to join the Shadow Company. It was bound to happen. Still it was hard for him.

That very moral code was to not hurt women nor children under any circumstances, and may God —if it even existed— help him when he'd have no other choice.

"Open the fucking door!" He yells, accent becoming more prominent; the door instantly sliding open, readjusting her near dead body in his arms to get them inside. "Gaz, give me everything you have." He commands the Sergeant, who's quick to open his medical pouches as well as the first aid kit they had loaded just in case someone needed it. The eyes of the woman flutter shut and then open slightly again, drifting back and forth between consciousness and the arms of the reaper. Ghost barks again at Gaz, so he helps him undoing the straps of her vest so he can check the wound properly.

"There's another one on her leg, Lt." he points out, moving around him as much as he can with the vehicle moving. With no time to waste he rips the lower part of his shirt, long and wide enough for his Sergeant to work. "Tourniquet , now." Gaz nods, at the harsh and cold commands of his superior. He then turns, lifting her shirt to inspect the wound. The bullet is still lodged inside her stomach, he notices sucking in a sharp breath; part of Ghost wonders who could've been the one who shot her? What if it was him? Taking the disinfectant from the kit he poured a generous amount on her wound. Her face scrunched, lips pouting and a low whine leaves her mouth. "Sorry about that, kid." He muttered, before pressing down on her wound every single gauze he found only to slowly start tainting red. He knew well she couldn't hear him her mind far away from where she physically was.

"We're back." one of the Vaqueros announced, as the van comes to an abrupt stop.

"We need to get her to the helo as soon as possible. She's lost too much blood." Price orders.

The three men get down, military doctors rush to them.

"We'll take it from here." One of them declares, patting Ghost on the shoulder, he nearly growls.

"Let's go. This isn't finished yet."

So Price dragged him in the opposite direction where they were taking her. He didn't know if she'll make it. But that was everything they'd do for her.

-

Stepping out of the room, showered and changed into comfortable sporting clothes you look around for Ghost. The safe house is silent. Deadly silent.

You wonder if he's even here, and you wonder if escaping would be a good idea. But as for now this was everything you had, at least a bed to sleep and a roof above your head. Sighing you walk to the kitchen just to find it as empty as the rest of the rooms.

The chilly air of late November causes your skin to erupt in goosebumps the moment you step outside, the backyard stretches farther away in the distance and as if on cue, the tall broad form of the Lieutenant appears walking through massive pines, wearing nothing but the jacket and his mask.

Ghost gradually stops when his eyes land on you standing still right outside the back door, arms crossed over your chest to protect you from the weather. He remains silent for a long minute before taking another

step closer.

"All set. Come with me." He orders you.

Biting on your lower lip, stopping your mouth from saying something you'll regret.

"Are you always this bossy?" Despite not liking his tone you oblige and begin to follow as he turns on his heels. If your question annoys him he doesn't let it show in fact he ignores you completely. "Where are we going, Ghost?"

Suddenly a wave of fear washes over you, steps faltering, hands shaking ever so slightly. What if this was it? The end of everything. You didn't want to believe Ghost could kill you like you were nothing you just don't do that to someone you've taken care of for the past month. Why bothering? Why tending to your wounds and worrying for your wellbeing, even if he was forced to do it. You wanted to believe that at least he didn't hate you. Not the way he hated your former Commander. You thought something had changed between the two. He had seemed more relaxed around you; like he somehow had lowered his defenses around you.

"Silence." he hushes you in a low mutter. "M'not gonna kill you if that's what you're worried about."

His words are cold and measured, as if he doesn't want to be here at all and the feeling, the knowledge that you're a burden to him makes your heart ache. A tiny pang of sadness that that's all you've ever been. All you could ever hope to be. So you ball your clench your hands, head hanging low when the so familiar lump in your throat becomes unbearable.

Both of you make it to a clearing, birds faintly chirping on the horizon. The sun no longer greets you, a storm announces itself with heavy clouds appearing in the sky above.

And then you're not alone. Another person stands in the middle. Hands clasped behind. Your heart skips a beat.

The only person that cares enough to save you. Blonde hair in a low tight bun.

Kate turns around, eyes going wide when she finally sees you. She's about to say something but words die because you're practically running to her, ignoring Ghost's warnings on being careful.

A smile appears on her face when you finally hug her and tears roll down your cheeks.

"What took you so long?" You sniffle. Kate's arms hold you tighter.

"I came as soon as I could. Forgive me, Vesper."

Shaking your head you try to stop the tears. It's honestly humiliating but she's known you since you joined the military. Kate Laswell was the closest thing you had to a family just like Graves. "I hope Lieutenant Riley has been good to you."

You huff, making her chuckle.

"He's taken care of me. For that I am grateful."

So now you knew more about him.

Riley.

Better than just a callsign. And it suited him.

Ghost stands a few feet away, despite this being a secure area he can't afford himself to relax. He can still hear everything you say to each other.

He can hear you crying on her shoulder and bloody hell if that didn't made him feel all sorts of distressed. It was a rare thing. Something he wouldn't have thought when he first scooped you up back on that forgotten highway.

But he guesses that happens when you spend too much time with someone you were supposed to look after. It didn't help that just last night you had asked him to stay the night in your room. All kinds of wrong.

Although he had refused he could sense what was happening and he needed to stop it. Getting attached wasn't part of the plan, and it would end terribly.

Deep in his thoughts he misses the look you send him.

"He really is something else." You murmur to Kate who keeps you know at arms length. "If it wasn't for you, I'm sure they'd have killed me." A sad smile appears on your lips.

"Let's not think about what happened darling, but rather what's gonna happen, yeah? Things have taken... a turn. No, hear me out." She says, interrupting you with a soft smile. "You're not alone. Never have been." Another quick glance at Ghost confirms the both of you that he's heard you.

"You know I don't like it when you say mysterious things, Kate." She sighs, giving you another hug although this one isn't as long as the first.

"Trust me. That's all I'm asking, and hey..." he levels you with a serious look. "Ghost may seem frightening but he's a good man." A low confession that doesn't reach his ears. Your cheeks turn red and you don't know why, leaving you mortified when she notices.

"Yeah..." you mumble.

"I don't have much more time. There's matters that require my attention but you'll hear from me again sooner than you think."

-

"What's that stance?" He gruffly asks as he stands next to you, eyes sliding up and down your body. His arms are tightly crossed over his broad chest. You turn to look up to him and away from the scope of your sniper rifle, blinking rapidly not understanding the disapproving look in his brown eyes.

"Uh, this is how I shoot Ghost." You answer like it was obvious what you were doing. You notice the way he furrow his brows beneath the balaclava.

"Bloody Christ." He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He comes behind you. "Widen your stance." He kicks one of your foot so it slides along the dirty soil.

Yelping you lose balance for a second before he steadies you with a strong hand to your waist.

"Hey! What was that about?"

Ghost tilts his head eyes narrowing.

"That stance was utter shite. Your legs were not separated enough, you'd get knocked down easily by a waft of air."

"I've been doing it like this forever."

"Well you've been doing it wrong."

"But that's..." squinting your eyes you stare at him, fuming. "My legs are not as long as yours, they're like five damn kilometers long." Ghost snorts. "What's so funny?"

"Shocked you know what a kilometer is." Shaking your head you decide to ignore him and readjust the grip on the rifle. "One of his best soldiers, I heard." He points out. He returns to his spot next to you, trying not to think of how you felt under his touch.

"You've never seen someone like me, Lieutenant Riley."

Ghost freezes, heart skipping a beat at the way you say his name. It's soft and endearing. He watches you closely, you're focused on the target one eye closed and the other fixed on the green bottle.

Breathing slowly and steadily, the exact moment when the sky rumbles you press the trigger. The bullet sound echoes through the lone forest as it hits the target, sending birds flying away from their nests. A wide grin makes its way to your lips, turning to look a Ghost who remains silent merely watching the near-perfect shot, the average size bottle shattered in a thousands pieces.

"Bullseye." you comment in a casual tone. "Your turn."

Offering him the rifle you stare at each other for a long time before he shakes his head, refusing to take it.

"Mine's better." Unfazed by his refusal you wait as he goes to the black duffel bag that he previously placed on an old wooden table. He takes out his preferred weapon. Your was... lethal, but his own, the sheer size and way it was customized for him left you speechless. You even doubted you'd be able to hold it still. "And just so you know." coming back to where he was, Ghost readies himself but not before taking off his leather jacket. Only left with his black hoodie he offers you the jacket, eyes serious. Hesitating for a second before grabbing it and putting it on, it smells like him. It's soft and warm around your body. "We're going out tomorrow."

His body prepares to take the recoil of the gun. Yet another perfect shot is made that day; body barely moving, barely flinching when he fires. You hold your breath at the sound of shattering glass and then everything goes silent. Ghost turns to look you in the face, the way his clothes hang around your body swallowing you whole. A sight he finds himself liking too much for his own bloody good.

"Taking me out on a date I see." His lips twitch although you can't see it. "Where to?" You ask rolling your eyes.

Laying down the weapon he motions you to follow him back inside, he'd clean up afterwards.

"Your first mission. Laswell wants you back asap." The air gets stuck in your throat. "Don't look at me like that. We could use a good soldier. And don't worry too much. I'm coming with."

Teaming up with Ghost was the last thing you thought would happen in your lifetime, even if you had before needlessly to say not directly. For all you knew, they considered you a hostile for your connections with the Shadow Company. But your commander was off the equation. Gone forever.

With a final glance to your way he starts to cook dinner for two so you join him.

Your new life starts now.

-

"When does this end, Laswell?" He asks her, it's not that he doesn't want to be around the girl. That is exactly why he's desperate to put an end to this, enjoying her company wasn't a part of the plan.

She breathes the cool air, and tries to calm him.

"Don't tell me you've grown to care about her, Lieutenant."

Ghost doesn't answer but the CIA agent notices the way his shoulders tense.

Part 4

[carooosa]

Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness

Part 1: Exposure (rewrite)

Full series here

Word count: 1.5k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Ascended Astarion x AFAB Resist Durge/Reader Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, ear play, violence against an NPC AO3 link: Exposure

Summary: Astarion can exert his control/power as he maintains composure while fucking you, and while he may not be as strict with his council when doing so, the harshness behind his actions is still there. But when you torture him by making him moan in front of everyone who is beneath him? Not only will it show him weak, but it’ll show his weakness.

It’s another boring day as a consort while you sit on your lover’s bare lap, slowly rolling your hips into him. Ever since the ascension, Astarion has refused to let you out of his sight for too long, always wanting to have some part of him touching you. It upset you, at first, having to sit in on all of the dreadful conferences and dull discussions. But as always, Astarion made sure that it was worth your time.

He’s droning on about some inaccuracies in recent reports he’s received and his fingers dig into your hips as the proprietor of the counting-house stumbles out an excuse. You can’t help but giggle when you picture the proprietor trembling as he tries to talk his way out of this mess. You remember his name being quite the joke as well, something like Sparkleboard or Glimmerbrook.

“Rakath Glitterbeard,” Astarion barks at the dwarf before berating him for his inadequacies. He shoots you a mischievous glance, confirming that he too is bored with this meeting, so much so that his mind had wandered into your own.

Of course the poor sod’s name was something ridiculous. If he was going to have a name as awful as that, he should just change it to Goldcoin or something similar. At least then it’d have relevance to his job.

Astarion pinches your hips in an attempt to stifle any laughter that may come out, and you yelp in surprise. You look at your lover and notice the slightest crinkle in the corner of his eyes. The ramblings from Rakath stop, and Astarion’s head snaps towards him. “Have you run out with excuses already, Glitterbeard? Or have you simply come to your senses and decide to own up to your shortcomings?” Astarion says with a growl.

You turn your head as well, excited to see what’s about to unfold. The dwarf readjusts his collar before clearing his throat, and the idiot decides to speak up against your Lord.

With the arrogance of a little kid, he says, “No, Lord Astarion, I just noticed that you seem to be preoccupied and thought I would wait until you regain focus.”

Astarion scoffs and you feel him grab onto your ass with one hand as he stands up and kicks back the chair he was sitting on. With his other hand, he pushes off all the paperwork that lay strewn about the desk. He sets you on the edge of the table before pushing you down so that your back is against the hardwood. He stares directly at that insufferable banker as he begins to thrust into you – hard.

“What was that about losing focus?” Astarion says with a crazed look in his eyes.

Rakath’s face turns bright red as he tries to stammer out a response, but it’s no use, as Astarion has already made up his mind.

“Silence. Pick up those documents and put them back on the table – in their correct order. After that, you will redo all of this week’s reports, as well as the last 4 month’s as well.” Astarion is interrupted by a noise of disapproval, his frustration reaching its highest point today. “I said silence. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how that tongue of yours works, shall I cut it out and show you?”

Rakath drops to the floor and begins frantically gathering the papers, all the while Astarion continues to slam into you with reckless abandon as he addresses the rest of the meeting attendees. 

“Do I need to remind everyone that you’re in the presence of the Vampire Ascendant? I am more powerful than you could possibly comprehend, yet you wager your lowly lives just to make some ridiculous point. I could replace you with the snap of my fingers and no one would even care. I keep you around because I couldn’t be damned to get rid of you – however, give me enough of a reason and I’ll put the dungeon to use.”

You weren’t sure exactly how or when it started, but whenever Astarion would get annoyed or pissed off during a meeting he would yank you closer and begin to fuck you, right there, in front of everyone. Somehow he was able to maintain composure as he catered to your needy whines, asserting his dominance over the room while he dominated you. He always took care of you, and one day, you got the brilliant idea to care for him in return.

You’re once again sat on your lover’s lap with his cock buried deep inside you. His nose is deep in a document, a contract with an architect from Neverwinter, and his shoulders are tensed. You delicately reach your hands behind his shoulders to start massaging the knots. He doesn’t acknowledge you save for a quick twitch in his ears, so you push harder, hoping to alleviate some of the stress the Vampire Lord must feel. Moving up to his neck, you meticulously knead every knot you find, humming a soft melody as each point of tension slowly comes undone. When you finish giving him a massage, one of your hands slightly brushes against his ear, causing a shutter to ripple through Astarion.

You quickly look at his face and notice his lips part, a silent moan leaving them. Interesting, you think to yourself, and you slowly reach out to stroke his ear.

You watch as Astarion gasps, eyes fluttering closed in contentment, the contract falling from his hands. He desperately tries to regain control by focusing on his breath. You caress the helix of his ear and his breathing hitches before a pleased sigh escapes his mouth and he leans into your touch. His hands move to your back to stabilize you as he begins to roll his hips, ever so slightly fucking you.

He looks so beautiful like this, you think to yourself. Astarion’s eyes are hooded when he opens them again, and if your heart was still beating, you’re positive it would’ve skipped a beat.

You can tell from his posture that he’s about to move your hand away, and the mind-link connection you share confirms that. The Vampire Ascendant has an image to upkeep, and he can’t show any vulnerability outside of the bed chambers. He starts to shift in his seat when suddenly, you take his ear lobe in your mouth. He mindlessly bucks his hips forward and grasps the armrests of his chair, splintering the wood. You nibble on the lobe, pressing and flicking your tongue against the soft skin.

He can vaguely see in his peripherals the guests from Neverwinter glance at each other and shift in their seats. One of them clears their throat and Astarion tries again to regain his poise but all he can think about is your lips on his ear. You roll your hips and gingerly reach out to his other ear, pinching and rubbing the tip. A quiet moan starts in the back of Astarion’s throat as you coo at him, telling him that he’s such a good lord, so strong, incredibly smart, your love. All the meeting attendants can do is watch as the Vampire Ascendant comes undone beneath your touch.

Astarion is panting as you whisper sweet nothings in between giving attention to his ears. You bite down on the flesh in your mouth – harsh enough to draw blood – and moan from the sweet ichor that flows into your body. The nobility that would usually cower at the mention of the vampire lord’s name now sit watching, unable to do anything in fear of retaliation. One of the younger nobles, the son of the architect, begins to slowly stroke his fingers against his strained trousers.

Within seconds, Astarion barks an order.

“Stop.”

You pause, concerned that you may have gone too far. Before you can ask if you did something wrong, you’re sat alone on the chair while Astarion is on his feet and holding the young man by his throat. He raises the boy above his head and dangles him above the table, his claws piercing into his flesh. The architect starts to get out of his seat but a nearby guest stops him.

“You fucking degenerate. How dare you please yourself while looking at my consort,” Astarion bellows.

The boy is unable to respond as blood fills his throat, causing him to suffocate. Astarion slowly closes his grip around his neck, watching as the architect’s son struggles to pull his nails out. The boy stops thrashing, the life drained from his eyes as his body goes limp.

Astarion continues to hold the corpse in the air as he addresses his room. “Leave. Now. And if so much as a word of today’s events is whispered outside of this room,” he pauses, throwing the body onto the table where the group congregates, “I will personally hunt each and every one of you.”

A few days later, a rumor silently spreads across Baldur’s Gate. Astarion, the unforgiving and merciless Vampire Ascendant, has a weakness. While many laugh and make jokes about how the powerful tyrant gets turned on with the touch of his ears, a resistance group takes note of his true weakness, and their key to his demise: you.

Part 2 here Full series here

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That

Can we just stand still? (5)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: This chapter deals with the bombing scene that happens during CACW.

Word count: 2.7K

A/N: Things are about to get angsty from here, so you better buckle up everyone!

May 21st 2016

Your day had started off like any other. You woke up in your room where Wanda had stayed with you. It had become a common occurrence for the two of you to spend the night in each other's room. You gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before slipping out of bed. Wanda stirred only slightly as she readjusted herself, taking in a deep breath before letting it out as she settled in once more making you smile before heading off to take a shower and get your day started.

By the time you were getting dressed about an hour later, Wanda stirred awake. Sitting up with messy bedhead and rubbing her sleep filled eyes she still managed to look beautiful. You smiled as you made your way over, kissing the top of her head.

“Good morning krasivaya(beautiful).” You knew several languages before meeting Wanda, Russian included, and she promised some day to help you learn Sokovian. She beamed a still sleep filled smile up at you.

“Good morning. Are you off to work?” She asks, looking over your appearance.

“Yes sweet girl I've got an early appointment with Sam today. He wanted to switch his appointments to before his morning training.” Wanda simply nods and leans against your stomach, breathing in your scent. 

“I'll see you later, right?” She asks looking up at you. 

“Of course, sweet girl. We'll see each other for dinner and sitcoms, okay?” you reassure her.

“Okay I'll see you then.” She's smiling once more and pulling you down into a kiss before she lays back down and gets all comfy as she grabs her phone for some morning wake up time as you exit the room.

It was just past noon. You had already done a few sessions for the day and just finished eating lunch. You'd been working on going over the notes for the next session of the day so you knew where you had left off last time with them. Though you were interrupted by Natasha coming through your door.

"Y/N, I need you to come with me." Natasha states. You sigh, looking up from your work, pushing your glasses up. 

"What is it? I thought you were getting ready for Vienna?" You asked with a bit of venom.  You haven't been talking since she decided she was on Tony's side and would be the representative for going to sign the accords on behalf of the Avengers.

"I was, something else has come up. A bit of an emergency. Steve is already there." She tells you and you shoot up from your seat. 

"I'll be ready in 10." You tell her. Hurrying out of your office to go find Wanda. 

"Hey sweetie what's up?" She asks when you barge into her room. 

"Nat is taking me on an emergency mission. Apparently Steve is already headed out. I don't know how long I'll be gone for. I didn't have time to ask." You take three big strides towards her, wrapping her up into your arms. "I love you." You tell her.

"I love you too. Be safe." She says back. The two of you share a kiss and if you had known that would be the last time you'd get to kiss her you would have never let her go.

======================================================

The urgency in Natasha's demeanor was palpable as you swiftly made your way to the rendezvous point. You couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at your gut, a foreboding sense of impending danger hanging heavy in the air.

As you boarded the Quinjet with Natasha and soared through the skies towards your destination, your mind raced with possibilities, each one more ominous than the last. You couldn't help but worry about Wanda, her safety and well-being weighing heavily on your mind. The last thing you had wanted was to leave her right now while the team was in shambles from fighting on opposite sides. A civil war brewing just under the surface of the cold war that was currently taking place. Both sides ready, but neither willing to make the first move yet.

Natasha remained stoic beside you, her focus unwavering as she piloted the aircraft with practiced ease. You admired her composure, her ability to maintain her resolve even in the face of uncertainty.

The minutes stretched into hours as you flew towards your unknown destination, the tension in the air palpable. With each passing moment, your concern for Wanda grew, a knot of worry tightening in my chest.

May 22nd 2016

As you finally touched down and prepared to embark on your mission, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that lingered in the pit of your stomach. Whatever awaited you on the other side, you knew that you would do whatever it took to ensure the safety of those you cared about, no matter the cost.

Natasha took you to a safe house. Made you get dressed in a nice suit, while she slipped into a dress. Both of you in black. She grabbed the two of you a rental car and before you knew it you were in front of a church. "Tasha? What are we doing here? This looks like a funeral." You state. 

"That's because it is. Peggy Carter. Steve's first love all the way back from his days before being a super soldier. I figured he'd need us as a support system." Normally you'd be mad that Tasha didn't just tell you outright, especially with everything going on, but she's right. He does need you two. So you simply nod and get out of the car. Looking like another set of people Peggy had met over the years.

As you entered the church, a solemn atmosphere enveloped you, the air heavy with grief and reverence. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as you thought of Peggy Carter, a woman whose legacy loomed large in the lives of those she had touched. Funerals were never a good place for you. Too much emotion that you could feel from every direction, making you feel sick and overwhelmed.

Steve stood near the front of the church, his expression a mask of sorrow as he greeted mourners and offered his condolences. Your heart ached for him, knowing the depth of his loss and the pain he must be feeling.

Natasha and you quietly make your way towards him, offering our support in the only way you knew how. You stood by his side, wordless gestures of solidarity as you paid our respects to Peggy and mourned her passing.

In that moment, amidst the somber surroundings and the weight of your grief, you felt a sense of unity with your teammates, a bond forged through shared trials and tribulations. Together, you would weather this storm, drawing strength from each other as you faced the challenges that lay ahead.

After the funeral you talked with Steve and Tasha asked you to stay with her as her body guard of sorts. Obviously with the Accords signing there could be trouble from anyone or anything. You really didn't want to since you were against signing them, but Steve urged you as well. Safety in numbers and telling you, "Nat is doing what she thinks is right. You're doing what you think is right, but she's still your best friend." You wanted to argue because let's face it. You're 20 and she's 31 she shouldn't be your best friend, but over the time of being in the Avengers she had become your best friend with movie nights, girl time, shopping trips, dinners, sleepovers.  It didn't make sense, but it also somehow did. 

So you agreed to go with her. You sat in front with her this time, not knowing how to fly, but just watching and admiring her. "I can teach you some day." She mentions when she notices you watching. 

"Oh no I don't...I'd rather not. I don't even have my regular license." You remind her.

"We should fix that too." Tasha says. 

"It scares me." You admit and Tasha chuckles. 

"You've gone against monsters and aliens and gods and that's what scares you?" She asks and you nod. "You're something else, little bee." You smiled at your nickname she had given you after she found you watching a documentary about bees and you were crying over how bumblebees shouldn't be able to fly because of how fat they are. "You're thinking about the bees again aren't you?" 

"They're so fat!" You cry out and she laughs. 

"You're the cutest, you know that right?" She tells you and you feel your face heat up. 

"What? No...no not me..." you can see her smirk, but she doesn't press me further. 

=============================

You were at the Accords meeting as you stayed close to Tasha. She talked with T'Challa for a bit. You told him if he needed to talk to someone he could always call and have a virtual session with you. He gave a polite smile and thanked us. Tasha and you headed to your seats towards the back of the room. When you sat your leg started bouncing like crazy which you didn't notice until she put a hand on it. Your head snapped to her hand and then to her face. 

"I know things like this aren't your thing. You prefer to stay behind the scenes, but I appreciate you being here. More than you understand." She speaks softly and before you can respond the meeting is starting. T'Challa's father T'Chaka, is speaking, thanking the Avengers. As he carries on the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you get goosebumps and without a second thought you throw up a force field around the floor as T'Challa calls out, "Everybody get down!" and an explosion goes off. Even with your force field you still end up grabbing and holding Tasha as if your small frame would protect her. 

"Are you okay?" You ask her first. 

"I'm fine."

"Is everyone okay?" You called out. Most people are but the explosion still rocked the building. People had stumbled or got pushed away by your force field. You can only make it so big. "I need all available medics and fire to the scene now!" You call through the ear piece you were given earlier in the day. 

As chaos erupted in the aftermath of the explosion, Natasha and you found yourselves caught in the flurry of activity. Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your focus remained steadfast on ensuring Natasha's safety.

"I'm fine," she reassured you, her voice steady despite the chaos surrounding us.

Relieved by her response, you quickly surveyed the scene, calling out for assistance and coordinating with emergency responders through the earpiece. The force field you had instinctively erected provided a barrier of protection, but you knew that the situation remained volatile.

"We need to get out of here," Natasha urged, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.

Nodding in agreement, you took her hand and guided her towards the nearest exit, maintaining a vigilant watch for any potential threats. The air was thick with tension as you navigated through the chaos, the weight of the unfolding events pressing upon us.

Once outside, you breathed a sigh of relief, the cool air offering a brief respite from the chaos within. But even as you moved to a safer location, you knew that the danger was far from over. With the Accords meeting descending into chaos, the fragile peace you had hoped to achieve seemed to slip further from your grasp.

As emergency responders rushed to the scene, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you. The events of the evening had underscored the precarious nature of our existence as Avengers, and the challenges that lay ahead seemed daunting.

But amidst the uncertainty, one thing remained clear: you would do whatever it took to protect those you cared about, no matter the cost. And as you stood by Natasha's side, facing an uncertain future, you knew that your bond would be your greatest strength in the days to come.

Tasha held a cold Gatorade against my face, "Here. Drink." It was my favorite flavor which means she had brought it with her. You smile and take it, after a few gulps she hands me a baggie filled with your favorite after mission snacks, ones that help me replenish your energy. 

"You packed this with you?"

"Of course. I always do. Just in case."

"Why?"

"Y/N. You always take care of us and sometimes you forget about your own self-care. It's okay because I'll remind you and help pick up the slack." Tasha smiles at you and you smile back.

"You know, through everything going on...I'm still so thankful that I took the job when Tony offered it. I never wanted to be an Avenger. It just fell in my lap. All I ever wanted was to just be a psychiatrist. To help people. I know I'm still doing that, but it's not what I had envisioned for my future, ya know?" She wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you close. 

"I know. I'm glad you're here with me. Through all of this. You'll stay with me right?" She asks. You take in a shaky breath. You consider it, but you remember Wanda back at home waiting. 

"But...Wanda..." 

"She's safe. She's at the compound." Tasha says and you nod. You want to say no, but you don't think you've ever said no to Tasha. Especially not when she needs you.

"I can stay, I just...can I call Wanda? Let her know I'm okay? I'm sure this is all over the news by now." Tasha hands me the phone and you call the familiar number.

"Y/N!? Please tell me you're okay!?" She cries through the phone. 

"I'm fine, baby girl. Don't worry. Tasha and I are safe. So are most people who were on the floor. I threw up my force field. I know I didn't get everyone in time, but I saved a lot more who would have died." You run your fingers through your hair. Tasha's hand on your back.

"Are you coming home?" She asks and you sigh.

"I can't. Tasha and I haven't gotten the okay. I don't know when I'll be back. I'm sorry baby girl." Your heart breaks as she talks.

"I'll be fine here. Just...be safe. Please. I mean it this time." Her voice is cracking and you can tell she's crying. 

"I will, I promise. I have to go. Just stay at the compound, it's the safest place, okay?" 

"Yes Doctor." You give a small smile.

"I love you." The line cuts before she can reply. Your hand drops as you stare at the ground. 

"Everything okay?"

"She didn't say I love you back...she just hung up..." Tasha pulls you back in for a hug.

"I'm sorry sweetie. Maybe she didn't realize you said it." You decided to listen to Tasha instead of letting your mind wander.

As Natasha comforted you, her words offering a soothing balm to your troubled thoughts, you tried to push aside the hurt and uncertainty gnawing at your heart. Despite the chaos of the evening, her unwavering support provided a beacon of stability in the tumultuous aftermath.

Taking a deep breath, you focused on the present moment, allowing yourself to be enveloped by Natasha's reassuring presence. She had always been there for you, a steadfast ally in the face of adversity, and you knew that you could rely on her to see you through even the darkest of times.

With Natasha by my side, you felt a renewed sense of strength and determination, a reminder that you were not alone in facing the challenges that lay ahead. And as you awaited further instructions, you resolved to remain vigilant, ready to confront whatever obstacles may come your way.

Amidst the uncertainty and turmoil, one thing remained clear: no matter the trials you faced, you would continue to stand by Natasha's side, trusting in your bond to carry you through the storm. And as you leaned into her embrace, you found solace in the knowledge that together, you would weather whatever challenges the future may hold.

[timothee-chalamets-girlfriend]

Paul Atreides X Reader (Dune)

Part 1: Caladan

     Paul Atreides' feet dangle from his bed as he rests in slumber. The blanket was on his body's top half, but he had kicked it off his bottom half. He was a restless sleeper. This was because of strange dreams he would have. They were always changing, but most made him uncomfortable. This has been going on since he was a child, yet some of his dreams still shock him. 

    Outside of House Atreides, the sun was beginning to rise. It had been a cool night, causing drops of dew to form on the soft grass. The ocean water can be heard roaring against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, a high tide was coming in. Luckily the cliff House Atreides sat on was the highest on Caladan. Not only was it protected from water, it's protected from any kind of threat that may arise. Paul's father, Leto Atreides, had done all he could to keep his royal family safe. However, part of him knew nothing could be protected forever. Still, it was his duty to keep his family safe. And he would.

     "Paul," a small voice whispered. "Paul." He feels a warm touch on his shoulder and his eyes shoot open. Looking up, he immediately relaxes when he sees it was just his mother. Paul readjusts himself from his crooked position and sits up. "Hm?" He makes a small, sleepy sound. "You slept in again. Your father and I have been waiting at the breakfast table for you." His mother tells him, running her hand through his curls. "Oh, sorry. I was-" Paul starts but his mother interrupts. "You were up late studying Arrakis and their people again, weren't you?" She asks with a sigh. Paul simply nods, looking away. "Come now, your food is getting cold." His mother says and leads him to the dining room. 

     Father, mother, and son sat side by side at the table and enjoyed their breakfast. Paul's father and mother finished theirs fairly quickly, while he took a bit longer than usual. "Not hungry?" Leto asked. Paul shrugs. His father and mother exchange a glance before Leto turns his attention back to his son. "Look, Paul, I know you want to come to Arrakis with me, but it's just too dangerous. You've never experienced desert conditions. I'm not going to risk it, you are far too important." He talks firmly. Paul, being a teenager, rolls his eyes at his father. 

    He pushes his plate away, which had a little over half of the food left. "You just don't trust me." He says, shaking his head. "It's not that, Paul, and you know that. We simply love you too much and are trying to protect you." His mother enters the conversation. "But you get to go." Paul defies. "You know why I have to go, Paul. Don't pull that." The mom replies. Paul grunts, "mother, father. Please. You both know how much I've been studying and preparing for this. I am ready. Please believe me." Paul says, practically begging his parents. The room goes silent for a few seconds as Leto looks at his son and ponders possibilities. "There is one thing we could try in order for him to prove himself ready." He finally lets out his thought. Paul's mother was quick to share her thought. "Are you insane!? That could get him killed!" She yells. "Calm down, Jessica. I believe in him. I believe he deserves a chance." Leto replies calmly and seriously. 

     Paul's lips swiftly form a smile, and he jumps up from his chair in a sudden burst of excitement. He had no idea what this thing he would have to do was, but he was happy to get to try nonetheless. Jessica sighs, standing as well and readjusting the long fabric of her dress. She didn't want to disappoint her son, but she couldn't help but worry about the possibility of him failing the test. "Very well, then. I'll take Paul to her." She tells Leto, and both mother and son walk the halls of the great House Atreides. While they walk a sinking feeling forms in the pit of Jessica's stomach. She hated this idea. At the same time she knew it needed to be done. "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear.." she says to herself in her mind as they approach the door. 

     Lady Jessica takes a final step forward, knocking on the large metal door. "Reverend Mother?" She calls out, and the door quickly flies open. As Paul enters the room, which was mysteriously dark and empty, a shiver runs down his spine. He was starting to feel not too sure about this. "Reverend Mother, my son, Paul, is ready to be tested." His mother tells the cloaked woman with a shaky voice. "How wonderful!" The lady croaks, "you may leave, lady Jessica. Guard the door for me." Jessica nods and leaves at once, the door closing behind her with a forceful slam. 

     "Come closer, boy. Don't be afraid." The lady shows off some of her crooked teeth. Paul cautiously proceeds forward, but stops just a few feet from where he should be. "CLOSER!" She yells, her voice suddenly becoming deeper than even his. He feels as if someone was behind him, as he is abruptly pushed forward. "KNEEL!" She yells in the deep voice again; Paul's legs seem to give way as he falls to his knees in front of her. The Reverend Mother takes a few moments to study Paul. She reaches out a shaky hand and places it on his cheek, her hand traveling around his facial features. 

     Paul, thinking that this was all the test was, goes to stand. He is quickly stopped when he feels an odd sensation against his neck. The Reverend Mother smirks as she points the gom jabbar directly at the boy's neck. "By your neck I hold a poison needle, in which will cause instant death at injection. The test is simple. Put your right hand in the box and keep it in there no matter what you feel. The second you remove your hand from the box, is the second you die." She tells him, still smirking. "What's in the box?" Paul asks, lifting up his right hand and beginning to slowly direct it towards the box. "You'll find out soon enough, my boy. Go on now." The lady grows impatient and pushes the needle a few inches closer to Paul's neck, making Paul waste no more time putting his hand in the box. 

    At first, there was just tingling. Almost as if electricity was running through Paul's hand. But it didn't hurt, it was just an unusual sensation. Paul looks the Reverend Mother in the eyes with confidence of passing the test, but it doesn't take him long to regret that. There was no light, no heat, yet.. it felt as if his hand was immersed in flames. Paul takes a quick breath to try and keep himself from reacting to the burning sensation on his skin. Soon, he feels as if his skin was being ripped off and the flames were entering his open wounds, making it feel like he had stuck his hand in a river of lava. Paul bites his lip, shaking his head and groaning through his throat. He wanted to remove his hand from the box. But he couldn't. 

     Now, the sensation he had in his right hand was that of an axe chopping off each of his fingers one by one before completely severing his hand. All of this while still burning, as well. Paul couldn't hold back anymore. He lets out a pained yell, which echoes throughout the room. "Quiet." The lady says, still holding the needle just centimeters from his neck. Paul breathes rapidly and scrunches his face in agony. He felt like crying, screaming, and mostly he felt like removing his hand from the box. However, he knew that any of those were not an option. The pain seems to reach its maximum level, and as it does Paul closes his eyes and holds back another scream, instead letting out another groan from his throat. Everything seems to go blank. All he can feel is pain, all he sees is darkness, and all he hears is the sound of his panting. He decides to focus on his breathing and nothing else. A few failed attempts pass, but he finally manages to get his breathing under control. Paul slowly opens his eyes and locks them with the lady's once more. His face was as still as stone. There were no emotions in his expression. He looked as if he could be dead. 

    "Enough!" The Reverend Mother yells after exhausting herself enough. The boy had passed. Paul swipes his hand out from the box and examines it; it was perfectly fine. He sighs in relief as the pain melts away and he realizes he's still alive, meaning he had passed the test. Lady Jessica runs in and immediately checks on her son, feeling just as relived to see him alive. "You pushed it too far." She tells the Reverend Mother sternly. The lady clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "Now, now. You and I both see the potential power in this young man. He needed to be tested to the limits." The Reverend Mother speaks. "What of him now?" Paul's mother asks. "He will go with you to Arrakis. You'll leave early tomorrow morning. I feel as if he will be needed there. No matter his fate, I feel he can make a difference to that rouge planet." The older lady responds before ushering her guests out from the eerie room.

[usafphantom2]

My RSO, Ed Bethart, made his infamous comment “don’t tell me that’s the other engine,” My answer, “Ed that’s the other engine,”’ SR-71 Blackbird pilot Major David “Dave” Peters.

SR-71 Blackbird pilot Major David “Dave” Peters was born to fly. He started collecting airplane pictures at the age of 7

On Apr. 28, 1979 with RSO Ed Bethart in the back seat, Dave was descending back to Okinawa, Japan, his home base, with only one engine working.

Then the other engine blew out. Knowing that the SR-71 glides like a rock, he had to think fast! Dave started to tell Ed to get out (eject), then Dave heard a voice…

Peters recalls; 🪽🕊️ “You’re OK keep going.” The voice was not in my head. Ed said he never heard it. I heard it again and I felt calm and I did exactly that. I kept going.

It started with a rocket ride one pass through the Korean DMZ unrefueled. Everything was great until I came out of AB (afterburner) for the descent. Almost immediately the left engine started surging and compressor stalling with the EGT going way past limits. I told Ed I was going to shut it down. So, he went through the check lists and we declared an emergency and requested descent to a precision straight in. We were setting up and not particularly worried because we had done this more than once.

Unfortunately, about 15,000 ft in the descent setting up for a downwind the other engine started surging and compressor stalling. Ed made his infamous comment “don’t tell me that’s the other engine,” my answer, “Ed that’s the other engine.” So, he says “what are you going to do?” I said “Restart the other engine so call approach and tell them we are going visual and get the tower and I’ll talk to them.” So, I started a pretty steep dive to get enough speed for a restart which I was able to get. The engine was still operating the same way so it wasn’t doing anything but giving us hydraulics for flight controls. I left the other one running for the same purpose. Ed got the tower and I told them we were running out of engines and were visual for a modified straight in. They cleared us for whatever we needed.

‘We were doing a little over 500 KIAS and turning onto a descending base leg trying to get the speed down to lower the gear. I had Ed get a hold of Mobil to let them know. Tom Keck and Tim Shaw were Mobil and they had Bob Cunningham and Jim Sullivan with them. I didn’t find out till later that Jim had told them all don’t say a word the last thing they need is help.

‘We kept slowing and I threw the gear down at about 350 KIAS. At the same time the right engine ceased. The gear came part way down so I pulled the emergency release handle and the mains came down and locked but the nose wasn’t down. I was constantly readjusting and trimming to keep the flight controls as close to neutral as possible because I didn’t want any violent movement if everything quit. That’s when I told

“Ed if I say get out if you say what… you’ll be talking to yourself.”

kept letting it slow and about 5 miles on final the nose came down and locked. I felt like we had everything set up well and was geared to keep going.

According to the MRS the second engine quit at 11 seconds on final which at the speed we were traveling was a little over a mile and a half. I think because I kept keeping the trim as close as possible there were not any big changes and windmilling may have been enough. At any rate we touched down at about 240 KIAS popped the chute and eventually used emergency breaking to stop.

‘It turned out to be very fortunate that we were able to get it down because it was determined that the cause was faulty fuel hydraulic pumps that failed. When they looked further, they found the same faulty pumps on the other airplane at Kadena, two at Beale and one at Mildenhall.

As most of you know, Dave Peters is fighting for his life. Let’s all put our thoughts and prayers together for Dave.🙏

Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

I am still indecisive, but Gojo, Nananemi (I feel like the more I type his name, the more I misspell it), or Sukuna x husband reader and Yuji as their adopted son? Just some teeth rotting fluff from your local ace.

One loving family coming right up~!

Title: 2 + 1

Characters: Gojo Satoru x m!reader, Yuji Itadori

Contains: fluff <3, adoption

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+ (except Itadori bc...adoption)

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI (This may not be smut, but I still want the above to be followed)

Reblogs > likes

"Satoru...let's have a child!"

Gojo choked on his coffee, practically coughing up a lung. "Wh-What?!"

"Let's...let's have a child!"

You had been pondering the idea for quite some time. You two had been together for awhile, and seeing so many happy couples with a child has given you a little bit of baby fever.

"I uh...a-are you sure? A kid is a...real big responsibility, y'know?"

"Yes! Yes I'm really sure! C'mon, Satoru!"

Gojo was silent, readjusting his sunglasses that he always insited on wearing as he sat back in the chair. "Well...First off, I'd be a terrible father--"

"Oh don't you start that--"

"I would! I mean, look at me! I can't even take care of myself!"

"Mhm...and that's why you double check whenever I order your food to make sure I get the right thing, or make sure I use the right detergent in washing your clothes."

"H-Hey! That doesn't mean anything!"

"It means that if you can be so vigilant on things you care about, you can be vigilant with a child!"

Gojo's cheeks puffed in a pout as he looked away from you, not liking how you made sense. "Hm...well...I at least want to think on it..."

Elated, you jumped from your seat on the couch and squeezed him into a hug. "Thank you, Satoru!!"

"H-Hey, easy! You're gonna spill my coffee!"

---

Now something like this didn't come quick or easy for that matter. You two had to have deep conversations about how this would work: how to organize a room for the child to have space, what foods to make, toys to get them, what rules there would be, etc. Not only that, but you two had to look deep into adoption agencies and see what their policies were and how to go about this.

It was mentally taxing, and at times, you two had to put it off for awhile, just to make sure it could be tackled with a clear head. After all, this was a massive decision, one that affected not only your lives, but the life of a child. You two began to wonder if it would even be possible until finally, after all your searching, an agency reached out to you, willing to take your case.

Now came the next step, home interviews, personal interviews, background checks, all the works, all the more strain that was going into it. Though Gojo assured you it would work out in the end, which meant a lot coming from him, as he was hesitant on this in the first place.

Still, you two persevered.

---

3 Years Later

"Satoru, I'm home!"

You sighed as you sat on the step inside the house, kicking your shoes off to allow your feet to rest after long hours at work. You were soon greated by small, thudding feet rapidly approaching you.

"Daddy! Daddy Daddy!"

A body barreled into you, and two arms tightly wrapped around yours, giving you a practical death squeeze. You couldn't help but chuckle at the small child, ruffling his hair.

"Heya, Yuji. How was your day today?"

Yuji straightened up, waving his arms up and down. "It was fun!! Papa and I played "Stack the Blocks"! We had to see how big we could make the towers! Papa lost at three blocks, and I beat him with five blocks!

"Oh really now?" You gave a playful grin as you stood up, picking up Yuji in the process. "What else did you and Papa do today?"

"Oh! I did Papa's hair! Wanna see?!"

From the other room you could hear Gojo object. "N-No no! Daddy doesn't need to see this, Yuji!"

"Come on, Papa! You look amazing!"

Before Gojo could object any further, you stepped into the living room. Your husband was sitting on the floor, his white hair pulled into very messy and tangled pigtails with an additional one on top of his head.

"...Yuji didn't want me taking them out so I couldn't," he huffed.

You couldn't hold back the giggle that slipped out, and you set Yuji down. "He looks wonderful, Yuji! You did a great job!"

"Heh. See, Papa? Daddy likes it! So you will too!"

Gojo grumbled something under his breath, but you could only chuckle as you rolled up your sleeves. "I'm gonna get started on dinner. Yuji? Can you make Papa extra cute for dinner tonight?"

"Mhm!"

Much to Gojo's dismay, you walked out of sight before he could bribe his way out of another hairstyling.

As you prepared dinner, a simple, happy thought crossed your mind:

I love this family.

[steviewashere]

Want to Go Home With You (Bring Me a Home)  Chp. 4

Rating:Teen and Up (May Change With Future Chapters)  CW: None, at least for now  Tags: Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Hurt/Comfort, Dialogue Heavy, Took Canon Out Back And Pulled an Old Yeller, Mer!Steve Harrington, Fisherman!Eddie Munson, Packless Steve Harrington (kind of?), Soft Steve Harrington, Confused Steve Harrington, Lonely Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Wants to be Loved, Mermaids with Animal Like Instincts, Future Propositioning, Lowkey Might Involve Some Omegaverse Aspects in the Future (Not Sorry), Steve Harrington Has Powers (Like Starfire in Teen Titans), Good Parent Wayne Munson

Read the first part over here

Read the fifth part over here

Can also be read on AO3

🧜‍♂️—————🧜‍♂️ When they make it back to shore, Steve’s trembling. His sharp baby teeth chattering together. Arms wrapped firmly around his naked torso.

“It is so cold,” he bemoans. His curled nails dig softly into the fatty flesh of his biceps. Legs bouncing where they’re hooked over the side of one of the benches. There’s rows and rows of goosebumps riddling his skin. And his hair keeps whipping around him every single time they’re hit with a gust of wind.

Eddie clicks his tongue on the back of his teeth. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Guess I did forget to mention that. Sorry, Steve. But good news is that we only have to walk some five minutes and we’ll be back at my cabin, how’s that sound?”

“Good, Eddie. I want warm.”

He comes to a slow stop at the dock. Throws the rope over the side and hops out onto the hardwood, wrangling the rope to tie against one of the support beams. Gently, he takes Steve’s hands and helps him step down with him, his legs wobbling with the effort. He swipes his thumbs over the backs of Steve’s freezing hands. “You’re gonna hate me,” Eddie murmurs, “but when we get there, you’ll need to wait outside for just a couple minutes, alright? I have to see if my uncle is home. And if he is, then I’ll need to figure out a way to sneak you inside.”

Taking Steve over the sand is an arduous journey, Eddie sorely notices. He should’ve guessed, he supposes, having to keep Steve upright and moving. It’s hard to lug him back to the cabin. Every single step is a new moment for them both to end up face down in the sand pits, cushioned by shards of shells and possible broken glass beer bottles. But, somehow, they make it. And Eddie hates having to leave Steve out here on his own, shivering and almost naked on his doorstep.

Hates everything a little more when he steps into the main living space of the cabin, only to find his uncle sitting on the sofa with a hot mug of coffee. He looks up from the Sears catalog he’d been browsing, eyebrows raised and mouth pinched. “Thought you were out there fishing today,” his uncle gruffly remarks.

“I tried, Wayne,” Eddie states, which is true. Even if he didn’t try quite as hard as he should’ve. “Wouldn’t give me a good bite.”

Wayne hums. “So if I asked about that figure I saw you walking up with, you’d tell me…”

Eddie’s eyes widen. Of course Wayne would see through the fucking windows, you absolute moron, he can’t help but chastise. “What figure? I walked up here all by myself,” he nervously garbles out.

“Just bring the guy in,” Wayne sighs. “It’s forty degrees out right now and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Might as well take a stray in for a few hours.” He flicks the catalog between his hands, readjusting on the sofa. When Eddie makes no show of movement, though, Wayne simply looks up again and raises an eyebrow. “If you were going to sneak him in, I was going to find out eventually. You’re a terrible liar, Eddie. Now, bring him in, fetch him some warm clothes, and you can introduce me, yeah?”

Hesitantly, Eddie gives a slow nod. “Uh…Yeah, fine. Sure. Just—Wayne, promise me something.”

“What kind of hogwash shit have you gotten yourself into, boy?”

The question is neutral, but Eddie still minutely flinches anyway. Wayne doesn’t get mad, not really. But he definitely makes it known when Eddie’s being a dumbass. Hopefully, though, he doesn’t actually get pissed. “The guy I found,” Eddie starts slowly. “He’s—Well, the guy’s not from around here.”

“So he’s an immigrant? A tourist? Why’s that supposed to matter to me, Ed?”

Eddie sighs. Bites his bottom lip. “Yeah. Fine. Let me just bring him in. Just don’t freak out.” 

Hastily, Eddie makes a quick exit to the front porch. Steve’s still sitting on the first step, hunched over his new knees, looking down at his toes. Watching them cautiously as they flex in the sand. He looks up when Eddie steps in front of him, wide eyes and curious brows. “He is home?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, unfortunately he is,” Eddie answers. “I don’t know how he’s going to actually react, Stevie. But he found out that I was bringing somebody with me. I was being kind of stupid and didn’t remember the windows and he saw you and now he wants to meet you and I just—“ He stops at the softness of a palm on his forearm. Eddie nods, swallows. “Don’t be disappointed if we have to find somewhere else for you to stay, okay?”

“Will not like me?”

“I think he’ll like you,” Eddie says, half-unsure, half-hopeful. “But I can’t promise anything.”

“I am cold.”

“Let’s get you warm, Stevie,” he says softly, reaching out his hand. “He can be mad later.”

Eddie walks through the door first, gently dragging Steve behind him. Then, when Wayne’s focus is back and the Sears catalog has been set aside, he finally ushers Steve forward. Standing just off his shoulder. A hand placed on his upper back. “This is the guy, Wayne. His name is…Well, his real name is Steven, but I’ve been calling him Steve.”

With a wary stare, Wayne takes Steve in. His eyebrows raising in slow increments with every feature he catalogs. At the claws wrapped on his elbows, the baby teeth that shine through his attempt at an inviting smile, the ripple of gills on his ribs, and the trembling legs. He swallows thickly, eyes wide. “Where,” Wayne asks slowly, “where did you find this so called ‘Steve’?”

His thumb, nestled between Steve’s shoulder blades, rubs soothingly when he senses the spark of anxiety. “The ocean,” Eddie quietly answers, “I caught him in the net. And he was sweet and lonely and cold. I’ve uh…I’ve been going down to see him everyday.”

“Caught him?” Wayne asks, “Like a fish?”

“He’s a merman,” Eddie states simply. He calculates the reaction, though.

Wayne’s impossibly wider eyes and his high-arched eyebrows. The small gasp and the drop of his jaw. He stands from the couch and shuffles over, standing right in front of Steve. “And he’s a person,” he points out.

Eddie nods once, firm, but anxious. “He—uh—has this ability to take on things that he…kisses?”

“And you kissed him?”

“He kissed me, Wayne,” he states. “But I liked it. I didn’t mind.”

“And…And now he’s in our home.”

“Listen, Wayne,” Eddie rushes to say, “if it’s a problem, I can use my salary to get him a motel room for a few nights. He just—I don’t want him to go back down there. He’s alone with no family; they’re all dead, Wayne. Dead. All he wants is somewhere warm. We have…There’s a space heater in my room and I know how to make soup and I’ve got extra clothes. I’ll figure this out, just please don’t turn him away.”

Steve’s smile wavers as Wayne reaches out and gently grasps him by the shoulders. “Can you turn back?” Wayne asks, though not unkindly.

Over his shoulder, Steve shoots Eddie an apologetic, nervous look. But he glances back at Wayne. Answers softly, “No. I am human now.” He inhales sharply, trembling fiercely. “Please no hurt,” he quietly pleads, “no hurt me, please. Not like my mer.”

“Ed, what does he mean by that?”

Eddie swipes his hand down Steve’s back and hooks it around his waist. Holding him firmly, yet as gently as he’s able. “Fishermen killed them,” he states lowly, “but we don’t do that.” He raises an eyebrow at Wayne. “Right? We don’t do that.”

For a moment, they all just stare at each other. Steve at Wayne. Wayne at the both of them. But he doesn’t speak. And in that lull, Eddie notices something odd. There’s a glint to Wayne’s stare. Something that sparks and blazes. The way a fire trying to consume a house does, trying to devour secrets and memories, attempting to not let any of it get out and away. As if it’s trying to hide a previous destruction. But Wayne looks to Eddie like that, not Steve.

No.

It’s like he’s remembering something that Eddie wasn’t privy to. And even if he was, he’s not sure he quite realizes what it is. A thing locked behind a chest in the back of his brain.

Then, Wayne smiles. It’s plastic, but there. And Eddie’s afraid to question it.

“Of course we don’t do that,” Wayne says easily as looks back at Steve. But then his eyes do that thing again. Blazing. Creating uneasy storms. “Us Munsons don’t do that,” he states, steadfastly avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie furrows his brows when Steve stumbles into him a bit. Falling back against his chest, out of Wayne’s grip. His eyes flicker between the two Munsons. And he hisses quietly under his breath.

“Lying,” is all Steve mutters.

He catches Steve’s side profile. The snarl to his lips. Aggressive scrunch of his eyebrows. The flare to his nostrils. His fingers are bent in sharp angles at his sides, claws shiny and ready to strike. He chuffs at Wayne when he tries to reach out.

“What?” Eddie quietly asks, “Wayne, what’s he talking—“

“Go get him in something warm,” Wayne demands not all that kindly. “Keep him out of sight for now. I have some errands to run.” And then he sidesteps the both of them, grabs his coat and keys by the door, and slams the cabin’s door behind him.

Eddie gently ushers Steve towards his room, ignoring the way he poises at the door, waiting. Like he’s expecting Wayne to come back. Like Wayne’s something dangerous. But that can’t be, Eddie tries to reason, Uncle Wayne wouldn’t hurt a fly.

He knows his uncle. Wayne’s too soft for that sort of violence.

Whatever Steve knows, though, makes something in Eddie swoop uneasily.

But he keeps a level head. Throws a pair of sweatpants and a worn-in sweatshirt at Steve. Makes his bed as the other changes. And lets him get safe under the covers.

“He is lying,” Steve quietly, viciously states, “he is a liar.”

Eddie sits beside Steve on the bed, criss-cross, vacant. Wondering what the hell his day has turned into. But his hackles raise and he snaps, “He’s not, Steve. Quit saying that.”

For all the ferocity that Steve previously wore, he now softens. Hurt. His eyes grow big and shiny. He whimpers as quiet as he could possibly manage. And he scoots away from Eddie, which burns him to his core. “Don’t hurt me,” Steve whispers, “I trust you.”

“Never,” Eddie adamantly promises. Or at least, he thinks he can promise that. A part of him trembles though. An area in him unexplored, suddenly awake and searching. Looking for a danger that isn’t there. “I’d never do that, Steve. Believe me. Believe Wayne. He’s right. The Munsons don’t do that.”

Steve watches him warily. Then, he murmurs, “You don’t know.”

Eddie scoffs. “Know what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve got nothing to worry about. We’ll be fine.”

With that, Steve seems to make a decision. There’s words on the tip of his tongue, Eddie can notice that. But whatever he wanted to say dies immediately. Instead, he smiles something soft, yet not all there. His eyes a little more vacant. Sort of desolate. He whispers, “Right.” Reaches out a shaking hand, pats the back of Eddie’s left. His skin finally a little warm.

He turns his hand over and grips firmly to Steve’s. Interlocks their fingers. “I wouldn’t let anybody hurt you, Steve. You’re my friend. And I love you.”

“Love you,” Steve mutters. “I sleep now?”

Gently, Eddie nods. “Go ahead and sleep a while. I’ll make soup when you get up, okay?”

“M’kay. No leave, okay? No leave.”

“Okay, Steve,” Eddie murmurs as Steve’s eyes drop closed, “okay.”

As Steve lays there, snuffling against the old, flat pillows, Eddie couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. Why was Steve so determined that Wayne was lying, he has to wonder, Have they met before? 

It seemed likely, but Wayne put on a good mask if so. There was no way they recognized each other. Eddie couldn’t put his finger on the blazing look in Wayne’s eyes, though. Why, rung out in his head. There was sharpness in Wayne’s stare. A deep remembrance. The way he gets when reminded of war. Of Vietnam. Of honorable discharge and losing some of his buddies, of making acquaintances that’ll never be seen again.

A trauma, that’s what it was. A deep, unrelenting, resurfaced something in Wayne’s brain. And all of it was solely focused on Eddie’s face. On his adamant promise that Munsons didn’t kill. At least, the Munsons that mattered.

He knew something. Wayne knew something.

And even if Steve is a new friend, a person Eddie was still trying to figure out, he was able to call Wayne’s bluff immediately. He knew something, too.

Eddie was never one to enjoy sitting out. So he’ll prod. He’ll meddle.

He sits criss-crossed on the mattress, arms over his chest. Waiting.

He’ll wait however patient he needs to be for Wayne to come through the door again.

Who was the man that Eddie ran into in the living room of his cabin? And why was he lying?

🧜‍♂️—————🧜‍♂️ Taglist (open for this work): @scoops-aboy86 @spectrum-spectre

@loveryanax @emmabubbles @swimmingbirdrunningrock @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @azryl90

@starryeyedpoet17

[frankenjoly]

hi hello may i interest you in some misc ships both rare and not <3

"i want her back" + higumitch

"none of us go on forever." + fukufuku

"what? sorry, i'm a bit tired." + mushiango

"we can beg for forgiveness later" + lemon futon

*cracks knuckes*

higumitch + “i want her back”

“Gin!!!” Higuchi called out, running towards them so fast she basically collided against her friend when finally getting there. In fact, if Gin wasn’t strong enough to counter such a speed with ease, the two would have ended up on the floor. “I need your help, please! It’s… an emergency.”

Gin let go of her and took a step back so there was enough space to motion, then signed a simple ‘Context? Please.’

“Okay… I’ve just met a very pretty girl, and I’ve also totally made a fool of myself and…” She let out a deep, embarrassed sigh. “I stumbled so badly. Then I panicked and fled, and almost tripped with my own feet too and… fuck. Bet she thinks I’m a complete idiot.”

‘No. Doubt it.’ Gin replied, stretching a hand to readjust one of the clips on Higuchi’s hair, and before she could ask how anyone could be that sure, the answer manifested in the most literal sense.

Margaret was approaching them.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She said when arriving, a polite smile on her face. Gin instantly shook his head, which wasn’t much of a save but didn’t count as throwing Higuchi under the bus either (as if her friend would actually do that, but well, she was nervous). When she mirrored the gesture, Margaret continued. “Then I want her back.”

“O-oh! Of course, yes.”

Said and done: tapping her shoulder in encouragement, Gin quickly took her leave.

lemon futon + “we can beg for forgiveness later”

“And if something goes wrong and we get caught?” Katai asked, already dreading the answer he might get.

“Ah, don’t worry! We can beg for forgiveness later.” And… there it was; just as he was expecting, Kajii didn’t exactly reassure him. In fact, he was so nervous he might be about to puke at any moment. Still, he didn’t let go of Kajii’s hand and let him guide them both to the place. “Have you never ever risked getting into trouble just ‘cause the thing you were gonna do was fun?”

“Uh… no, not really.” Growing up, Doppo had been his only actual friend, and the only one of the two who ever got into trouble as well even if it was about defending certain causes and not looking for fun per se.

“Oh! In that case, will you let me show you, my dear Katai?” Instead of seeming upset in any capacity, there was a glimmer in his eyes hinting at how the possibility appealed to him greatly. He even stopped for a second, now taking both of Katai’s hands and smiling from ear to ear. It didn’t take a genius to notice the silent plea that accompanied the gesture, nor could he resist it.

“I--” A smile tugged at Katai’s lips. “Alright, I will.”

fukufuku + “none of us go on forever”

“None of us go on forever, I know.” Fukuzawa said, after only a brief moment in silence; it felt like, if he left anything unsaid, it would be like that permanently. And given how they had to return from the book’s space eventually, the feeling was rooted in something very real. “But I wish things had been different.”

“Me too, Yuki. Me too.” Gen’ichirô replied, and something stirred inside his chest at the sound of those words.

‘Yuki’ was a remnant of way simpler times, where they could be just kids and their first separation was still so far ahead none of them could have predicted. And getting called like that, now they were heading for their last…

Without even thinking about it, he held out his hand to the side, and shortly after their fingers were entwined. They way it had happened many years ago, as Gen’ichirô led him towards his latest discovery (a new bakery, a stray cat, the train they shouldn’t miss). The way it had also been when they became a couple.

“I wish we’d had more time, too.” Was the last thing Fukuzawa heard before the moment was broken.

mushiango + “what? sorry, i’m a bit tired”

“What?” Ango said, finally moving his eyes away from the documents he had been… glancing at, saying he was paying attention at that point would have been quite the overstatement, and Mushitarô knew it. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired.”

“I figured when you didn’t answer the first three times.” He answered, scrunching his nose a little before letting out a simple sigh.

“Sorry, really. I thought I could get this done before heading out and now it’s been… how much time has it been?” As he finished speaking, Ango moved to reach for his phone and check the hour. But instead of letting him proceed, Mushitarô basically shoved the screen of his own towards Ango’s face. And, upon reading the clock’s numbers, his eyes went wide. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah. Anyway, you’re going home.” Mushitarô turned the phone screen back so he could face it again, and started looking some things up. “And I’m going to cancel the reservation for tonight’s restaurant.”

“What? Wait!” Ango grabbed his wrist, pleading, but he didn’t yield.

“No. If you’re as exhausted as you look, there’s no way having dinner out is going to be as enjoyable as it could be. So you’re going home, I’m going with you, and we’re ordering takeout instead.” 

At what was very clearly the realization of how Mushitarô wasn’t calling their date off but rearranging the specifics, Ango visibly relaxed.

“... Oh. Alright.”

(Also on ao3.)

[sighthounds-and-sketches]

Let's talk about flying to pick up a puppy by yourself

And some ways to make it easier on you.

Your prep starts honestly, about a week before baby actually comes home. Maybe 2 weeks.

For my pre-flight prep, I first picked out a flight carrier. I went with the one my breeder recommended.

It has expandable sides, and a little storage pocket. And it's resistant to chewing. I'm really glad I didn't buy a cheaper one, and I can't stress enough that it's cheaper to buy a quality one the first time than have a zipper break or a tear in the middle of your trip. My trip in total was 4 flights and 4 hours in the car, with him being with me for half of it and having the longest layover of my day. I could only really let him out a couple times, so this next part was incredibly helpful.

I mailed the carrier to my breeder,

at her behest. This was *huge* because the siblings got their scent on it and he was acclimated to being in it before I got to him. It acted as a secure place for him to ride in the car and for his first few nights here, he slept in there through the night.

And now that he's in his crate, the removable pad with scents on it has been instrumental in establishing the crate as a safe place for him.

Video of why I'm really glad I got the durable carrier.

Please consider what you're wearing that day.

Wear clothes you don't need to fuss with *at all* that's normal airport protocol- but I can't stress this enough, you're carrying the puppy in your arms through the TSA checkpoint and other people will be fussing over him. Make sure your appearance and personal bag is no fuss.

See: jeans, hoodie, puppy treat and potty bag that can be shoved into my personal Item, and a no fuss backpack.

In my personal travel bag I kept:

Pee pads, his food from the breeder, a change of clothes in case of incidents, a portable battery to charge my phone, collapsible food and water bowls, collar and leash incase one wasn't provided, and SEVERAL toys in there.

The toys were great for waiting in the terminal. I'd expand the sides of the crate and introduce a new toy to him to help him run a bit of energy out before we had to board.

Peepads: Even though airports have animal relief areas, chances are they're either kind of gross or your dog may be a little too young for it to be safe. I was traveling through one of the busiest airports in the world, and nobody was checking jack shit so I opted for potty breaks to occur in bathrooms with pee pads. He didn't end up going but it's better to be prepared.

I flew Delta and used Skymiles accumulated from our credit card with them that we pay off monthly, so the only thing I paid for out of pocket was 95.00 to bring Argos on board. My flight only costed 20k miles total, and that was only a small portion of what we'd accumulated over the 6 months we've been using the card. I think it's worth considering if you're planning to fly to a breeder. It enabled me to go anywhere in the country that Delta flies and not worry about costs.

Day of hack: double check your flights on the airlines app and switch your seat if possible. I swapped one of my return flight seats to an empty row for 15.00, which meant I could have my carryon and him with me at the same time and that was very nice for readjusting where my stuff was and taking a damn nap. Because at this point, I'd been up for about 18 hours and still had 7 hours of traveling before I'd get home.

I think my last thing is that if you're like me and you do have an invisible disability- ask if you can preboard. Dont be afraid to say "hey, i have this problem and standing in the heat while carrying a bunch of stuff is potentially going to cause an episode. " The employees were extremely nice, and willing to work with me. Ultimately, I went through all of this because he's a service dog prospect and will hopefully help.

Small things for me specifically prior: ate in the morning and right before I picked him up, he was able to chill in his carrier while I ate dinner at a restaurant in the airport- didn't make any sounds. He slept the whole time. I don't think I couldve eaten in the food court, too much to carry between him and my main bag.

I think that's it. I may add to this if I remember anything I forgot.

Edited to add: for my besties with miscellaneous illnesses-

A baggie with your medicines is IMPORTANT. Do not forget some dramamine, advil, Tylenol, whatever, pack it if there's a small chance you'll need it!

I ended up getting migraine symptoms like 5 hours into travel, and that was not a day I could afford to have blurred vision. <3 remember to take care of YOU on the journey.

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Staccato breaths mingle with the wild drumming of your heart as Coriolanus takes you to a place unknown, so far from where you live on the outskirts of town.

The freezing air sneaks under your skirt, causing your legs to tremble. Wherever you look, you’re surrounded by darkness, a cluster of clouds cloaking the moon now.

It reminds you how utterly alone you are.

Your tears soak the blue shirt of his uniform but he doesn’t seem to care. In your current upside down position, you can’t see his expression and it scares you even more. 

You wonder what he’s thinking, why he’s doing this and, most importantly, what his plans are for you.

“Where are you taking me?” you inquire, your wavering voice dripping fear.

“It’s a surprise,” he announces, readjusting you on his shoulders.

You don’t like his tone, not one bit. It’s taunting with a sliver of resentment. 

Somehow, you pissed him off at the bar and he wants to make you pay for it. Punish you for…for what exactly? It eludes you. All you did was dance with some guy and Coriolanus saw red.

You knew the peacekeeper was strange, but this is a step beyond that. He stole you. In public. It’s insane, deranged.

Lights finally pierce through the veil of the night, twinkling through the hazy obscurity. A faint shred of hope glimmers inside you. If there are people here, maybe you could shout for help, appeal to basic human decency. Back at the bar, no one would help you.

Part of you understands. This is the kind of fear the Capitol has instilled in everyone in Panem.

Still, a hint of bitterness lingers inside you. Not even Yara lifted a finger to help you. You thought she was your friend. But you suppose even that is asking for too much for someone like you. Even that is a luxury far beyond your means. 

You confine tears. You do not wish to give the peacekeeper the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart. 

He enters a building with bright lanterns scattered at its front. The smell of incense, cigarette and expensive perfume engulfs your senses, so overwhelming you can hardly breathe. A woman appears in your line of sight. She’s strikingly gorgeous. Glossy, raven curls frame her heart-shaped face and heavy makeup adorns her delicate features. She wears a low-cut red dress that must cost at least two months of your wages. 

You frown, dull remembrance tugging at your brain.

Something about her is vaguely familiar. 

Then it dawns on you, and your stomach coils in dread.

You’ve seen her before, at a bar in the northeastern part of town. She was working her charms on a man who slipped her a bag of coins before they disappeared together.

The urge to puke tickles the back of your throat. A brothel. Coriolanus has taken you to a brothel.

“Is our room ready?” he addresses the woman, impatience bleeding through his tone.

“It’s all been prepared like you asked, Mr. Snow,” she trills.

“Help me, please…” you beseech. 

She tilts her head, a wide grin unfurling on her crimson-painted lips. 

“She’s a pretty thing, your lass. Almost as pretty as you.”

Coriolanus reaches inside his pocket. The clinking of coins resonates as he drops a tiny purse in the woman’s hand.  “Don’t disturb us,” he instructs.

She grabs the purse and beams at him.

“Wasn’t planning to.” Her cheerful inflection makes your stomach sink. “Our clients’ privacy is of the utmost priority.” 

“Let me go you mon-”

The woman giggles. “She chirps an awful lot, that bird of yours.���

He heaves out a deep sigh, both weary and resigned. “She needs discipline, which is exactly why we’re here.”

His words do nothing to reassure you. You thrash again, legs flailing and hands reaching for any parts of him you can. He groans but doesn’t release you. He stomps upstairs.

Your mind runs wild as your fear grows. Soon, the blond reaches an ornate black door. He kicks it open with his boot. Once inside, he tosses you onto the canopy bed in the middle of the room. He slams the door closed and locks it. Your blood runs cold.

Without much thought, you clamber off the bed, awkwardly getting to your feet and heading straight for the door.

He grabs the back of your neck and yanks you away from the door. A strangled shout leaps from your throat.

Coriolanus peers down at you, bent in an uncomfortable position beneath him.

A look of mild annoyance decorates his handsome face.

“Still trying to run away? You never learn your lesson, pretty bird.”

“Let me go,” you croak, your pleading eyes searching for pity in his icy gaze. But you’re only greeted by contempt. Tears swell under your eyelids. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He snorts, like he can’t believe you’d ask something so ludicrous. He narrows his eyes at you, the fingers clamped around your nape squeezing harder.

“Why? Because you’ve been ungrateful,” he hisses.

Befuddlement trickles within you. “Ungrateful?”

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks.

“I help you, I save you.” A storm gathers in his enraged tone. “I do so much for you but you bat your lashes at some pathetic district scum?”

You cower beneath his accusing stare, in disbelief at what you’re hearing. Your lips clamp shut, your mouth quivering before you retaliate, “I’m district scum too.” You squint at him. “I’m district scum too so what do you even want with me, Coriolanus?”

He chuckles darkly, wrenching your head so far backwards, your neck starts singing in pain. He sinks to one knee, scrutinizing your shaking form on the floor. 

“What do I want with you?” he echoes. His hold on your neck loosens to latch around your jaw instead. His scorching blue gaze dives into yours as his voice dips, whisper-soft. “Tell me, sweet bird, am I that repulsive to you?” Puzzled, you blink. Why does he even care what you think of him? 

Your silence has him jostle your frame, as if trying to shake a reply out of you.

“Answer me,” he growls.

An hasty, breathless response tumbles out of you. “No.”

You hardly had to think, needing to simply utter the truth. Of course, Coriolanus is handsome, a feast for the eyes like a prince from a fairytale, with his smooth skin, free of any blemish, bright blue eyes and angular features. It’d be hard to deny how beautiful he is.

…But he’s not a prince, and you're not in a fairytale.

As your eyes lower, his fingers dig harshly into your cheeks.

“Look at me.” There’s a sharp edge of authority to his words. You lift your gaze, too terrified to dare divert your attention from him. He continues. “Do you find my face disgusting, my voice unbearable?” His mouth twitches. “Maybe it’s my smell. Is it atrocious?”

Tears dangle at your lashes as you mutter, “No.”

“Then why?” A blend of dismay and anger paints his features. “Why do you always run away from me? Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

“I don’t need you. I never needed you.”

His orbs flare dangerously. You shriek as he hauls you from the floor and hurls you on the bed. 

“This is where you’re wrong. You live because of me. Your cousin lives because of me.” He begins removing the blue vest of his uniform, his motions irate and rushed. A lump nestles in your throat as you watch him zip down his pants next. “You owe me, and it’s about time you show me some gratitude.”

This time your attempt to flee is curtailed by a steely grip on your ankle. A knife-like sensation pierces your limb as he twists it cruelly. The pain knocks the wind from your lungs. You freeze and go limp over the sheets.

The blond’s forehead puckers, a contrite look flickering over his features.

“You’re making me do this. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re making me.”

He squeezes your shoulder and forces you to sit up at the edge of the bed. The air chills around you as he tugs down his white boxers, revealing his long, thick girth, glistening at the tip. You gulp the lump in your throat.

Your fingers clasp around the end of the bed as you gape at his erect cock. The vein along the shaft seems to taunt you. Cupping the side of your face, he nudges his tip against your wobbling lips.

“Open up,” he orders. He sneers when you don’t move an inch, “So stubborn…I can’t tell if I love or hate that about you, pretty bird.”

“Please…” you mumble, your glistening eyes rising to meet his.

He purrs, lust clouding his sky blue orbs. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“You’re even prettier when you beg me, birdie.” His tone mellows as he offers, “Open your mouth and I’ll make sure you never want for anything.”

Your mouth remains adamantly sealed. 

Studying you, he ponders, “I’ve always found the punishment for thievery needlessly harsh.” He unleashes a dragged out, ponderous exhale. “For shame, I’m not sure your cousin will last very long here without you.” Your heart threatens to spill from your chest. A wicked, lopsided smile blooms on his lips as he fondles your cheek. “It’s a tough world, especially for a little girl all on her own, wouldn’t you say?”

Your chest collapses at his blatant threat. Even if your own fate mattered little to you, you can’t imagine Tilly fending for herself here. You’re all she has now and if she can’t rely on you, who will she be able to rely on?

Besides, she might be better now but she always had a fragile health. Someone needs to look out for her. And it has to be you.

It’s as if Coriolanus could hear every thought bouncing in your head, smugness oozing off him as he observes you. 

Your lips part slowly. Victory illuminates his features.

He pumps his shaft, excitement bouncing in his orbs.

As he pushes his tip into your mouth, a hum of pleasure vibrates in his chest. You feel it through your own body and a shudder passes through you. 

You quiver as you swirl your tongue around his leaking tip, silently wishing he’ll be quick about it. Maybe if you do it well enough, it won’t last long and he’ll leave you be.

Still, embarrassment pools in your gut. You’re letting a peacekeeper treat you like a common whore. You doubt your dignity will ever recover from this ordeal.

He grabs both sides of your face, impatient, pushing more of himself down your throat. Your mouth aches at the corners, the size of him nearly too much to bear. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels good,” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

He slides his entire length down your throat until it tickles the back of it. You fight your gag reflex. The salty taste of him spreads on your tongue as you choke on his cock, air flailing in your lungs. He licks his lips, gently stroking your tear-stained cheeks.

“Good girl”, he praises.

He starts fucking your mouth, bruising your throat with each forceful thrust. Tears and spit mingle around your mouth as you take him as well as you can. You grow numb, eyes half-seeing as you let him use you.

Coriolanus’s throaty moans fill the room. The echo of his blunt thrusting reaches your ears. You feel sick. 

You close your eyes, hoping to forget, but all you can see is him, hear is him, feel is him.

You wish you could climb out of your own skin.

His pounding turns more feral. Cradling the back of your head, he shoves himself more urgently inside you. His chest ripples as he grunts.

You weep, suffocating on his length. Your stifled cries join the lewd sounds he makes. Your fists tighten around the sheets as your vision dims.

His motions become sloppier as he snarls, a look of sheer bliss decorating his handsome face.

His cock twitches, his eyes rolling back. A warm stickiness glazes the inside of your mouth. A groan leaves him as ropes of him pour down your throat. When you try to pull back, he firmly keeps you there, framing your face so you can’t escape.

The excess trickles on your chin and neck.

You shudder, quaking sobs wracking your body.

A wet sound resonates when his softening cock finally exits your mouth. You inhale a wide lungful, thankful to be able to breathe again but disgusted by the bittersweet aftertaste still coating your tongue. You wish you could bleach the inside of your mouth many times over. 

He collects your tears with his thumbs, his smile growing as he basks in the sight of the mess he made on your face.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, my sweet bird,” he croons.

You plunge your hands in the frigid water, roughly rubbing the clothes against one another. You focus on a willful beer stain that won’t come off no matter how much you try. Frustration blooms inside you as the brown lingers on the beige fabric.

You grimace. This was one of your nicer blouses. Now it’s forever ruined, tainted beyond recovery.

Yara wrings her skirt above the bucket, her attentive eyes clinging to you. When she offered to do laundry together this morning, you expected a plethora of questions. Instead, she spent the last hour mirroring your silence.

You’re grateful. While her presence soothes you, there are many topics you’d rather not broach. One in particular. A memory you went to great lengths to bury but won’t let itself be erased. You feel branded, like you don’t belong to yourself anymore.

It’s a ghastly prospect, one you have no desire to mull over too deeply. 

You’d rather focus on laundry today. Washing, rinsing, drying and repeating. The tedious routine keeps the scary thoughts at bay. At least for a little while.

“Tilly’s doing a lot better.”

Yara’s abrupt words stagger you. Your head snaps up. Your focus veers to your younger cousin. She’s sitting by the fire playing noughts and crosses with her friend. The two little girls are wrapped up in the thin lines they’re drawing with white chalk on the stone floor, concentration etched on their small features.

She has been doing better. Much better than she has the entire year, though it guts you to admit it. She can laugh, play, run and be a normal kid.

…And you have the little care packages Coriolanus has been dropping on your doorstep to thank for that.

It stuns you that he even found out where you live so easily. You thought you were careful.

Now you don’t even feel safe in your own modest home.

There is nowhere to hide from the peacekeeper.

While he hasn’t shown up in person, his presence hovers over every aspect of your life.

You live because of me.

“Yeah,” you reply tritely.

Hands going still in the water, Yara observes you for a while, hesitation wrinkling her features. 

Eventually she dips her head, averting her gaze as she mumbles, “I shouldn’t have let him take you away.”

Guilt bleeds through her tone. Sighing, you peer at her. While you resented being on your own, you’re also keenly aware there is nothing she could have done.

“It’s not your fault,” you reassure. “I’d be scared too. I am scared,”

Though sadness still glistens in her eyes, she nods.

“Did he…” She trails off, sucking in a deep breath as if to gather the courage to speak again. Her gaze meets yours head on. “D-Did he hurt you?”

Goosebumps erupt at the base of your spine, spreading outward as your mouth trembles. 

“In a way,” you answer belatedly.

Shock covers her features.

“We should tell Commander Crane…”

You scowl. “We can’t.”

Not only does the ruthless Commander of District 8 harbors little to no sympathy for anyone’s plight, he may be more concerned about your thievery charges than any misdeed carried out by one of his Peacekeepers.

Such are things in District 8. Unjust and bereft of any morsel of hope.

“But we have to do something, report him,” she insists.

Irritation nips at you. You wish she’d drop it. It’s not like anyone will come to your rescue. You’re not some damsel in distress, a precious lady from the Capitol in trouble. 

You’re no one. Some might even say district garbage.

“Yara, he’s some rich kid from the Capitol, and I’m…we’re just…” The words shrivel on your tongue, hopelessness cresting within you. “It’s best to leave it alone, trust me.”

“But…”

“It'll only get worse if I fight him,” you snap.

A puzzled expression appears on your friend’s face. “Worse in what way?”

In what way indeed? You’ve no idea how far Coriolanus Snow is willing to go to torment and toy with you. There’s a glint of madness in his blue eyes which haunts your nightmares.

You go quiet. 

You pick up the drenched blouse from the bucket of water, wringing it until your hands start to hurt. 

Yara’s soft voice rises, encouragement laced in her tone.

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll get bored at some point, move on,” she says. “I mean he has to, right?”

She smiles at you and you return it.

“Right.”

But deep inside, you’re not so sure, dire thoughts of pretty boys with devilish smiles swaying in your mind.

[akariamai]

Human

Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Android!Reader

Word Count: 1170

You retained vague memories during moments of your creation. Long nights listening to the ramblings of your creator as they built a synthetic body capable of protecting your being from both natural and unnatural forces.

You were programmed to help situate a world war 2 veteran and integrate them into a changed world. Your creator was a massive fan of the man, it was evident from the old posters hanging on the walls, collectibles neatly placed in the bookshelf, and old tapes that remain unopened. Your creator built you, an android, to assist the man in any shape possible. Anything the veteran would ask and you would complete your assignment with grace and excellence.

You could be a cleaner, a cook, a teacher, a plumber, and even a friend. You were designed to learn and adapt like a human. You looked the part, created to blend in, the only exception was you were not alive in the sense of humans. Humans are flesh and bones while you are nuts and bolts.

“Are you ready for your name?” Your creator stuffed away various tools and wires from your sight. He had waited to name you till you were fully operational.

“Yes.” You forced out a smile. Humans smiled. They smile when they’re happy, excited or content. Would this be exciting for a human? To be given a name. A label for others to recognize. “I can’t wait!” You were slowly getting used to synthetically replicating human emotions. You were designed to do so by one of the greatest minds in the world. Was that your own thought process or a programmed code?

“MODEL AX400 register your name.” He waited for a moment before replying, “[Reader].”

“My name is [Reader].” It was a monumental occasion for both your creator and you. Your creator was going to drop you off to your owner and shake a few old hands as praises were sung to him. You were going to follow your new owner, an apparent captain from World War 2, and vertically await for a command.

The ride was loud as your creator blasted his beloved music. It was evident he was in a good mood. You were perfectly operational and the location of your drop off was becoming closer and closer. You noticed the way he fidgeted as you’ve both walked closer to his favorite war hero.

“Captain!” His voice shakes a bit, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

The Captain shook his hand before offering to do the same to you. No one has ever offered to shake your hand before. You’ve been operating for a few months before this meeting.

“They’re not a person, Captain.” Your creator laughed. He found it hilarious for others to confuse you with an actual person. All his hard work melted into you and you were perfect. “This is MODEL AX400. They answer to the name [Reader].”

“It’s nice to meet you, Captain Rogers.” You gave him a gentle smile, “You have a very impressive record.”

Steve was stunned at your lifelike appearance and performance. He wouldn’t have guessed you were anything other than human. It was strange seeing how advanced technology had become since he went under.

“Since SHIELD cannot have a SHIELD agent be at your beck and call to help you with readjusting to society, [Reader] here will do so. She will be under your command and answer any and every question you’ll have. She can even do chores.” Your creator especially loved to boast about everything you were capable of doing. You were one of a kind after all.

“I can’t accept,” He tried to argue. There was so much unknown about the technology used to create you that he didn’t want to take the chance. It also seemed costly to just give such advanced technology to be a babysitter and educator.

“She was made specifically for you.” 

“Don’t worry, Captain Rogers.” You tried to ease his obvious apprehension, “I am equipped to handle any situation that may cause you harm. Unlike humans, I don’t get tired or sick. I am not required to have a social life so I’ll be ready for when you need me.”

“She’ll be able to handle anything that’s thrown at her.” Your creator patted your shoulder, “[Reader] is programmed to contact me if she determines a part is broken or a glitch has made its way into her programming. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

~~~

It has been a couple of days since Steve made a space for you in his apartment. He gave you a blanket in the night despite you telling him you wouldn’t get cold. In the night, you distracted yourself with gathering more information to make Steve’s apartment more homey. His apartment was bare and organized.

“Are you sure you want to come with me on a run?” It was a question he always asked before heading out. Despite knowing you weren’t a person, he still felt bad for leaving you alone while he ran. You made sure you would be able to see him at all times when he ran. You could see anything and everything able to hurt him. He was your person and you would ensure his safety.

You assured him, “I’ll be alright, Captain Rogers.” You only wanted to complete the job without any distractions.

“Steve.” He said, “You can call me Steve.”

“Okay Steve.”

It grew quiet as the two of you walked towards the door. You carried his water bottle as you followed him. He was closely becoming accustomed to your presence in his life. Any question, no matter how small, would be answered by you. Most of his questions were about events that occurred after he was missing.

There was one question that struck you as old. It was not information about an event but of a person. A woman. One of the heads of SHIELD. Upon your research, you found he and Peggy Carter were close during this time in the army. You couldn’t understand the feelings he shared for the woman but you wanted to. You told him everything that was public knowledge about the life she was able to live.

Once you both made it to the park, you sat on one of the benches as you watched. A lone monarch butterfly captured your attention as it fluttered near you. You studied it, engraving it into your memory, and stockpiling government data on the insect. Its numbers were slowly decreasing by the years. You calculated in the near future, the insect would become endangered if humans continued to deforest the wintering forest in Mexico, do nothing about climate change or insist on using pesticides that are killing off milkweed plants.

“Are you okay?” Steve was lightly sweating after his run and he noticed you weren’t there to greet him as you always did. 

You offered his water bottle, “I was… distracted. It won’t happen again.” You weren’t supposed to get distracted from your goals. You were supposed to protect and serve Steve.

Masterlist

[somniari-94]

I really don't know if you're going to make this request, but I'd like to ask hudson ahn headcons about what he would be like as a boyfriend for your y/n. Maybe some with nsfw.

Obs: I'm of age.

Ｈｕｄｓｏｎ Ａｈｎ ａｓ ａ Ｂｏｙｆｒｉｅｎｄ

Thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy this 😊 I apologize ahead of time for any possible mistakes.

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ: 754

Requests: Open

• This man is the king of communication, really. There will be no misunderstandings between the two of you if he can help it. Hudson is the straightforward type, so if there is an issue -whether it be you being upset with him or the other way around- he’s going to want to sit down and work through it. He won’t press it if you just want space in the moment, but he will approach the subject again at a later time. If he’s with you, then he truly cares so he wouldn’t want any lingering resentment in your relationship. Fully believes that the key to a healthy relationship is communication and trust.

• He takes the time to actually know you. That book you spoke to him about that you love? The hobbies you enjoy? He read or learned about them just so you have someone to enjoy them with. He’s more than content to listen to you go on about the things you enjoy, and would love you even more if you returned his efforts.

• He’s not big on PDA. Hudson is a subtle lover. A barely there hand on your waist as you walk together, or a light brush of his lips across your knuckles while you hold hands will probably be the most you get from him while around others. But when it’s just the two of you? He loves holding you in his arms. Cooking? He’s holding you from behind and watching your movements. Will definitely press kisses along your jaw as a bid for attention. Relaxing on the couch? Time to readjust because he’s now your pillow (loves when your rest your head on his chest and will run his fingers through your hair or along your arm).

• Prefers calling you darling, sweetheart or my love to babe/baby. It sounds more romantic to him (don’t call him out on it, he’d get embarrassed).

• Definitely the type to watch you get ready. There’s a particular allure he finds in watching you go through such a basic process. Finds it even more appealing if he watches you get ready for a date because then it feels like you’re getting ready for him. Loves the thought of you wanting to look good for him. He certainly tries to do so for you.

• Not the jealous type. As stated previously, he’s big on communication and trust. If someone’s flirting with you or making you uncomfortable he trusts you to either set them straight or alert him so he can take care of it himself. He’s protective, and won’t hesitate to get physical if need be. Don’t try to make him jealous either. He doesn’t appreciate you trying to manipulate his emotions and will tell you such.

• That being said, he works around plenty of beautiful women and is aware doing so may cause you some unease. Though he leaves their care primarily to Jacky, interaction is inevitable so he’d do his best to address and reassure you of any concerns. This man is completely professional. If someone flirts with him his rejection is smooth and concise.

ＮＳＦＷ ＣＯＮＴＥＮ T

18 and Up Only

Warning: Edging, Begging, Slight Dom/Sub themes, Slight dacryphilia

• He worships you. Every caress and kiss is carefully curated to one goal; making you lose yourself to pleasure only he can give you. He’d happily spend a lifetime with his face between your thighs if it means he gets to hear your whimpers and moans.

• Though I see him leaning more toward being a service dom, he definitely has a mean streak. Hudson is the type that can edge you for hours. He’s patient, and loves hearing you beg for him.

• Prefers positions that allow him to see your face. He will praise how perfect you look beneath him, tell you how good you’re making him feel.

• Tease him at your own risk. As stated before, Hudson can be merciless when he wants to.

“You look so desperate, sweetheart. Was this not what you wanted? My attention?”

Hudson looked almost bored as he watched your body tremble; hips moving upon his in a ravenous bid for completion you knew he’d deny. How much time had passed since you began? How many times did you work yourself to that exquisite precipice of fulfillment, only for a firm hand to bring it all to an abrupt stop? It was cruel. He was cruel.

Your hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, head coming to rest on his chest as a sob escaped your lips. “Please,” you whispered, voice raw with need. “Please, Hudson? I need it. Please?”

“Do you?” Gently, Hudson brushed a finger along your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that escaped your eyes. He thrust up into you mockingly before nudging you back upright. “I’m not so certain you deserve to cum yet. You were being so daring earlier. Where did that spark go? No, if you want to cum you’re going to have to earn it.”

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

Targets and Watermelon | Felix

Summary: Felix decided he wanted to spontaneously take you for a short date at target

Warnings: none, just very fluffy

Notes: inspiration came from finding out Felix is ENFP

You had momentarily paused your nightly routine when your boyfriend suggested going out on a shopping trip. You had barely stepped into the apartment before he announced loudly that he was craving to do something spontaneous with you. He couldn't wait, he said, so it made you puzzled.

Still, after gentle coaxing and a lot of puppy eyes, Felix was always able to get his way. He even offered to drive, noticing that you were hesitant to even get back into your car. When you finally agreed, he couldn't help but shout in excitement as he raced to put his sneakers on. He all but dragged you down the hallway because you couldn't possibly be as quick as he.

"You wanna clue me in on what's happening?" You ask him with a glance out of the side of your eyes. You settled in the car, looking at the dark sky as it slowly morphed into a brighter area with street lights. "What's got you so...excited?"

He threw a charming grin your way. "I watched a lot of tiktoks on couples who do skincare together-stay together."

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. It was cute knowing he did certain cheesy things to feel a little more aesthetic from time to time. Felix had mentioned before that the aesthetic couple style is what he wants the two of you to achieve. Though, he knew it was something you hadn't mastered quite yet. He liked to follow specific couple activities to give you something to look forward to by the end of the week. Felix had a bucket list for the two of you when you didn't have plans.

"Target?" You questioned, shifting your whole body towards him once he parks. "Can I have coffee?"

He was anticipating you requesting coffee, even at such a late hour. "Of course." He sent you a wink before leaving the car.

Felix's hands immediately entwined with yours as he guided the two of you into the store. It was brightly illuminated, a stark contrast to the night sky outside, and you squinted to readjust. While you were doing so, Felix was already pulling you towards the familiar coffee place inside.

"I don't think you should have coffee," you mumble to Felix after hearing him order two of the same drinks. You both shuffle to sit at an empty table as you wait.

Felix had shrugged off your concern, his wide smile never fading as he reached across the table to encase your hands under his own. "I am so glad we came here."

You furrowed your eyebrows but laughed. "Why are you so excited? What plans do you have?"

"Paycheck, baby. I got that bonus in our account today and I'm feeling a little special."

Little did you know that Felix was enthusiastically waiting for the coffee in hopes it will keep him up late tonight. He had made things planned just for you and he couldn't wait for you to be just as excited as he. He didn't want to get his hopes up too much, but he couldn't help but imagine your reaction once the night was over.

After a moment you began to browse the store, leisurely holding one another's hands as you sipped at your drinks. Felix may have seemed to appear calm to those around you, but the intense look in his eye as he searched for the items in his mind and the coffee in hand, you were starting to realize just what you were in store for. He even pretended to pause in front of an aisle, clearly not the one he was looking for, to feign calmness. He felt entirely the opposite, though, wanting nothing more than to speed down the store and to the exact aisles he needs.

When you finally come close to the skincare products, Felix releases your grip quickly and races towards the area he knew. There, he reached down and started picking up multiple watermelon-scented items. He handed you a few sheet masks, cute headbands, and even some lip balm as he continued to sort through them all.

You picked up the lip balm and examined it closely. "Watermelon?"

He tucked a few more random things in between his now-full arms. "Yes! This brand has really good ratings. Also, they encourage using the same products as your partner to ensure the same results."

"Results? Like, face care results? What are you trying to do?"

He finally turns to you, smiling ear to ear and eyes large. "We're going to be a watermelon couple!"

Surprised by his random confession, you let him drag you to the next destination, stopping in front of clothes. There he found matching watermelon onesies and fluffy slippers. You were lucky enough to spot an empty hand basket to place all the items into as he continued to pick out more.

Finally, you placed your hand over his. "Sweetheart," you say gently, afraid to upset him. "I think this is enough watermelon for now. How about we get some snacks that we can have later and watch a movie? Smelling like watermelon and all."

You weren't entirely sure which influencers he saw online that gave him this idea, and you didn't think you wanted to. However, the happiness just rolling off of him was too contagious to ignore. Even if it meant you would need to stick to smelling like a sweet fruit, you would do it to please him. You couldn't deny you had fun when he found specific, but very odd date ideas.

"What brought all this on?"

Felix had taken the basket from you now, wanting to hold your hand once again. "I just knew an energetic, comforting night like now was exactly what you needed."

It didn't matter what you ended up doing, as long as you were with Felix you were content. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his way of telling you 'i love you', saving you from being shy in a public place. He attended to your needs and didn't turn them down when you had any requests. Even with a goal in mind, he loved being able to go off course and do things at the spur of the moment with you. As long as you two were happy, your dates were always the most fun.

"Did you know watermelons are fruit?"