#just regular people in tough places

[worstloki]

HYDRA kidnaps Loki but all the goons look up to him and think he’s the coolest guy and keep kissing up to him because they really really want him to join their ranks

[hirazuki]

Me: Okay, two photoshoots a month is about all this body can handle. Done with August, now to plan for September!

Photog friend: Hey, I'm planning a shoot at the abandoned hospital.

Me: Oh, cool! That's a perfect location for Kurapika. When were you thinking?

Photog friend: Next week.

Me:

[amongemeraldclouds]

The Slytherin Boys as Disney Princes

Ft. Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, and Lorenzo Berkshire. Also features x f!Reader as their equivalent Disney princesses.

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I share my written work.

✿ Masterlist | 1.8k words

From the Wizarding World to magical fairytales, let’s crown our beloved Slytherin boys as the following Disney princes:

Theodore Nott as Prince Charming (Cinderella)

Note: Prince Charming doesn’t have much personality in the original 1950s film, but we learn more about him in later films, where I drew information from.

✭ Raised in privilege as a prince, Theodore Nott lived a very charmed life just as the name Prince Charming suggests.

✭ With only royals and commoners to distinguish class, he is less prejudiced and more accepting of others. His father taught him at an early age that they have a responsibility to their people just as their people serve them.

✭ Because of this, he is open and friendly to everyone, including animals. He was once hunting down a deer only for it to be a game in the end, him and the deer are actually friends. (Note: Yes this is canon Prince Charming and is very Theo as well.)

✭ If Disney were less wholesome, Theo as Prince Charming would have regular lovers, but it will only always be physical. He has not yet found a connection with anyone, but it doesn’t matter because he enjoys sex. He certainly never runs out of women to sleep with.

✭ Beneath all the charm, he secretly hopes to find a love match. The kind of relationship that transcends strategy and status. He longs for passion and romance, much like in the books he reads in the castle’s library, though he’ll never let anyone know.

✭ His father in the meantime is keen to see him married to an eligible maiden so he threw a ball. He rolled his eyes and yawned when no one was looking, initially bored because he still couldn’t find the connection he longed for. At this point, he doubted he’d ever find it. 

✭ Then he met you. You in your light blue dress and glass slippers. Everything about you sparkled and it ignited something in his heart. He never knew romantic love before you, but he recognized it right away.

✭ He wouldn’t care that you were a commoner, he’d admire your courage and kindness once he got to know you. Besides, true love was far more valuable than any precious metals and gems.

✭ After you ran off, your glass slipper gave him hope. He was going to stop at nothing to find you, his true love.

Mattheo Riddle as Flynn Rider (Tangled)

⋆☀︎. Left to his own devices, Mattheo Riddle would go on countless adventures across different kingdoms and forests, thieving only as a means to an end so he could survive. 

⋆☀︎. He enjoys the rush, being chased by the authorities and not being held down by rules or responsibilities. (Except they can never get his damn nose right on Wanted signs despite the distinct cut he has on the bridge of his nose iykyk.)

⋆☀︎. With his charming personality and irresistible smolder, he’s an expert in banding together with fellow criminals and often smooth talks his way into ladies’ beds. All temporary partnerships for his on-the-go lifestyle.

⋆☀︎. Until one day he comes across you, the girl with golden hair and big eyes — not to be underestimated with your ferocious pan wielding tendencies. He learns the last part a little too late, the hard way.

⋆☀︎. As he promised to take you to see the floating lights in exchange for the crown, he finds himself having fun swinging his fists and learning about your power to bring out the good in people.

⋆☀︎. You managed to charm tough guys in a bar, getting them to talk about their dreams—of being a florist, of performing on stage, and of falling in love. He realizes it may not be so bad to go on adventures with someone else.

⋆☀︎. He was already mesmerized before he learned about your magical hair. He saw the light within you long before that enchanted night when lanterns floated through the air like stars hung low just for you. And of course, they were always meant for you.

⋆☀︎. Before Mother Gothel could plunge the weapon in him, he already knew he was a goner. He knew he could never go back to who he was. He was now and forever going to be a moth to your flame, your soul as radiant as the sun even long after your golden hair turned brown.

Blaise Zabini as Kristoff (Frozen)

•❅*ִ Much like Kristoff, Blaise Zabini exudes a quiet confidence that does not need to declare itself.

•❅*ִ As an ice harvester who works with ice picks, hooks and ropes, he has an athletic build and a tough exterior, but do not be fooled for he has a soft heart within.

•❅*ִ Having grown among trolls and reindeers, he sometimes gets frustrated when interacting with people. He believes reindeers are better than people, but all that changes when he meets you.

•❅*ִ He is very practical and honest, but when he is blunt he often means well. He is quick to call you out on the fact that you’re about to marry a man you hardly know.

•❅*ִ He initially agrees to help you end winter to save his ice business and get a new sled. However, the more challenges you face together, he grows to admire your fearlessness and determination.

•❅*ִ While you initially find him to be annoying, you soon discover his charming and funny side.

•❅*ִ He will however suppress his feelings for you, thinking it’s better to let it go because you’re already engaged anyway. But when truths are revealed and no one is who they appear to be, you’ll melt his frozen heart with a kiss on the cheek.

Draco Malfoy as Li Shang (Mulan)

✿ To Draco Malfoy, loyalty and family legacy is important, just like Li Shang who aims to be just as great as his father, the head of the Imperial Chinese Army.

✿ He is disciplined and has mastered both physical and strategic ways of waging war. He has a lot of traditional beliefs, including making a man out of his troops using elaborate physical training.

✿ He starts questioning those beliefs when he sees your determination as Ping, using both weights to climb up the pole even though it took you countless failures throughout the night. What were these confusing feelings in his chest?

✿ Yet he couldn’t deny it, nor would he try. He was ready to lay his life down for you even before you saved him. It didn’t take him long to return the favor when he found out you were a woman and so he spared your life.

✿ Despite his firm upbringing, he was always loyal to his heart. Even though you betrayed the army, he knew your intentions had been good and that your hard work made you a skilled soldier.

✿ He listened and trusted your last ditch efforts to save the Emperor, even resorting to cross dressing as part of the plan. It all paid off as you saved the Emperor and all of China. 

✿ In the end, you were absolved of your deceit and honored for your heroism, finally letting your reflection show who you are and what you’re made of. Your final crime was stealing his heart.

Tom Riddle as Aladdin (Aladdin)

✶ Tom Riddle grew up as an orphan and resorted to a life of crime to survive in Agrabah. Secretly, he enjoyed it too.

✶ Smitten by your beauty, he saved you from a merchant at the market and he was impressed with your agility when it came to dodging the authorities.

✶ When you reached Aladdin’s home, you revealed you were from the palace and left thinking you’d never see him again. He longed to visit the palace to get another glimpse of your beauty.

✶ Named as a diamond in the rough, Jafar recognized Tom’s talent and recruited him to steal the magic lamp from the Cave of Wonders. Encouraged by the promise of riches (therefore power) and a subconscious need to please Jafar, he takes on the task, saving a magic carpet in the process.

✶ Back at the palace, your father sought to marry you off to find a successor to his throne. You met suitors, including a flashy prince called Ali from Ababwa.

✶ On a magic carpet ride, you trick Ali into admitting he’s the thief you previously met at the market. He manipulates you into thinking he’s the prince and the thief persona was just an act for him to get to know the city better.

✶ When Jafar uncovers Tom’s identity, he steals the magic lamp and wreaks havoc using the genie’s wishes. Understanding Jafar’s ego, he tricks him into wishing to be the most powerful being in the universe, which imprisons Jafar in his own lamp as a genie.

✶ Instead of using his last wish to continue being the rightful prince who can marry you, he used it to free the genie, as he has now learned how power corrupts others. It wasn’t worth it.

✶ Crowned as the next sultana, you recognized how our actions and choices defined us. Despite Tom’s manipulations, he showed up and was willing to learn. He was not afraid to look into the dark and make the right decisions when it mattered, a husband fit for a ruler.

Lorenzo Berkshire as Jack Frost (Rise of The Guardians)

Before you come at me, I know Jack Frost is not a Disney prince, but I’m a Jelsa truther so here we are.

❅ Lorenzo Berkshire mirrors Jack Frost’s love for mischief and games. As the guardian of fun, he enjoys playing harmless tricks on children and hearing them laugh as a result.

❅ Beneath the playful exterior, he deeply cares for those around him, having saved his sister from a frozen lake. His ultimate sacrifice led to his untimely demise, which the Man in The Moon rewarded him by making him immortal and granting him powers. 

❅ He never found much need for romance, opting to spend his days playing with children and visiting his fellow guardians instead. Until one day, he visits the Enchanted Forest and comes across you, its mighty protector.

❅ Despite the initial distrust, he wins you over with his easy smile and sincerity. You never realized it until then, how lonely it was to be an ice queen without her king.

❅ Jack was also amazed to find someone else who could play with the magic of snow. He felt seen and understood like never before. For once, the loneliness in his heart melted away.

❅ So you spent your days together, laughing over silly jokes and exchanging stories. The cold never bothered you, but being with him made you understand why people enjoyed the sweetness of hot cocoa and why they cuddled close to a fire.

❅ Both your friends and family were happy for you. One day, Jack asked you to invite everyone so you can have a contest on who built the best sculptures. Your audience and judges comprised of Jack’s fellow Guardians, Queen Anna and King Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven.

❅ You showed off with iced gardens, towers, and even the shape of Sven, but none was more impressive as when you turned around to find Jack on one knee, a gleaming diamond in his hand. It was a picture perfect moment with ice sculptures in the background, celebrated with loved ones. 

❅ And soon, the ice queen would never be without her king.  

✿ Masterlist <- read more!

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Capri Sun

(A/N) This is just stupid, but I love this side of Cod.

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: blood draw, fear of needles, aggressive and oblivious reader, starstruck Simon, suggestive at the end

Synopsis: Based on this.

Simon is a soldier. A warrior. Hardened by life, by the horrors he experiences every day. He had killed hundreds, thousands of people with his hands. Scars cover his body. Scars he acquired in battle and through torture. His subordinates fear him, his superiors respect him. If anyone were to think of a ‘tough guy’, someone not scared by anything, they would think of him.

But god damn, this man is scared of needles. What didn’t help, was the fact that, as a soldier, he had regular health check-ups, each of them including a blood draw.

At first, he tried to face his fear alone, not telling anyone how bad it really was. Only when he eventually fainted before one of those blood draws, did Price catch wind of the Lieutenant’s phobia. And since then, he accompanied Simon to every single blood draw, just to make sure the big, scary man was okay.

But Price still tried to help Simon with his fear. While at first, the Captain would be standing right beside his colleague, he started slowly distancing himself, hoping to give the Lieutenant some independence that way.

The same was happening again. They had just gotten back from a mission and due to an injury, Simon had to go through a check-up, which would start with the oh-so-feared blood draw.

The soldier felt the anxiety from the moment he woke up, only consoled by the fact, that since he had to be sober for the blood draw, it would take place before breakfast. At least it would be over soon.

Ten minutes before Simon’s appointment was scheduled, Price knocked on his door and picked him up. Together, they walked to the infirmary and after checking Simon in, they sat down in the waiting room. Some other soldiers recognized them and started to chat with Price, not really noticing Simon’s silence. After all, he wasn’t much of a talker on a day when he didn’t have to get a needle jabbed into his arm.

After a few minutes, Simon was called into one of the rooms. As he got up, he glanced at Price, who just nodded encouragingly, sending the Lieutenant off. While walking to the room, Simon took slow, steady breaths, already trying to calm his nerves. But when he entered, the anxiety spiked up again.

This time, it wasn’t because of the prospect of what was about to happen, but because of…you. You were…adorable, sitting on a tiny stool, you could use to roll around the room.

He stood in the door for a few seconds, staring at your profile, as you routinely took out everything you’d need for this. You didn’t even notice him until you swiveled around to face the door.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips, not expecting a mountain of a man to be your patient today. Sure, you were used to treating soldiers, big men and women, fit and stocky, but that man…he was something else entirely.

After recovering from the surprise, you let out a chuckle and pointed to the chair in front of you.

“Please, take a seat.”

Simon did as you asked, still staring at you. You looked so fragile and cute. And your smile. If Simon were to die and he could pick one image to see before he leaves this world, it would be that smile of yours.

You swiveled back again, grabbing a capri sun from a table behind you before you turned back to face him. As you ripped off the straw, you started to go through your standard introduction.

“Hi I'm your medic and I'll be drawing your blood today.”

You straightened the straw and aimed at the small hole on the top, jamming the straw down, but missing it. If this display wouldn’t have scared Simon as much as it did, he would’ve found the way, your face pulled into a frown, adorable.

You try again, missing once more, making you grow incredibly frustrated.

“Ahm, so…are you sober?”

You weren’t even looking at Simon while asking him the question, still focused on the capri sun and the way you kept missing the hole.

“Uh-hu.”

You glance at him, a smile on your face, before you glance back down at the juice pack in your hands, the smile gone.

“And have you ever fainted before, during, or after a blood draw?”

Simon’s muscles tensed and his eyes grew wide while he watched you jabbing at the poor juice pouch, a thin layer of sweat starting to cover his skin. His hands had started to claw at the armrests of the chair. But you were oblivious to his panic.

He muttered a quick ‘no’, wanting to save face in front of you, but in his mind, he completed it with a ‘but I think I’m about to’.

“Good. Let me just…ugh.”

Another missed attempt and you clearly had enough. You balled up the pouch, turned it on its side, and jabbed the straw into it with as much force as possible, a triumphant ‘ah-ha!’ leaving your lips as you took a sip.

Your display of aggression was enough for the poor man and with a voice you never expected from someone like him, he called out.

“Price!”

You looked up, confused as to what was going on. Your confusion only grew when another big and burly soldier, even if not as big and burly as the one sat in front of you, came running up to the door.

“What’s going on?”

You looked between him and the man sitting in front of you, not knowing what to say. And Simon didn’t say anything either, instead just reaching out his hand towards the Captain.

Price let out an understanding chuckle and closed the door for some privacy, before grabbing Simon’s hand and giving him an assuring squeeze.

“He doesn’t like getting his blood drawn.”

The way Price whispered that to you, seemed as if he was sharing an important secret with you. You nodded in understanding and sat down the juice pouch, which caught Price’s attention, earning you a confused look.

“I couldn’t hit the hole with the straw, so…”

You explained it so nonchalantly, but in that moment, everything started to make sense in Price’s head and he had to use all of his self-restraint to not just burst out laughing.

Now that you knew that your patient was afraid of the procedure ahead of him, you decided to get it over with as quickly as possible. And you did it without a hitch, placing a small bandaid over the puncture wound.

“Do keep some pressure on that, okay? You don’t want a bruise to form there.”

Simon nodded and with the help of Price got to his feet. The Captain quickly thanked you, before leaving the room, but Simon hesitated. He glanced at you and you again smiled at him, making his heart melt.

“W-Would you l-like to go out s-somtime?”

He talked so quietly, it took your brain a second to catch up, and when it did, a heavy blush covered your cheeks. Was he really asking you out?

“Y-Yeah. I’d love to. I’m done at six tonight.”

Simon nodded, not looking at you, way too embarrassed.

“I’ll pick you up then.”

You nodded and smiled at him, waving as he left the room.

Let’s just say, from that moment on, you were the only medic that would draw his blood. And let’s just say that with him, the procedure required a lot longer than normal and would only happen behind a locked door. Yeah, he’d practically have you sitting in his lap while drawing his blood, grinding up into you, the only way to get his mind off of what was happening that moment. At least Price no longer had to accompany him to those appointments.

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[hoodiedmenace]

Reasons Why Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan are Gay (an almost essay)

Reason 1: from a game play standpoint, you only get a few optional missions. Those missions are helping Mary when she asks (who is Arthur's like, old girlfriend/ex/situationship/it's complicated) and CHARLES when he asks Arthur to help with the local Native American tribe

Reason 2: Charles is super introverted, and doesn't talk to other gang members much at all. However, when Charles goes bison hunting, despite it being a sacred thing that he holds really close, he invites Arthur along

Reason 3: John, Arthur's sort of brother, gets SHOT and MAULED BY WOLVES and Arthur makes fun of him and doesn't treat it seriously. But when Charles burns his hand, Arthur is super doting on him

Reason 4: Arthur doesn't hug people very often, and when he does its always because another person initiates it. He doesn't go in for the hug himself. EXCEPT. With CHARLES. And they hug not once but twice. Once when Arthur finds out that Charles isn't dead, and again when Charles leaves the gang

Reason 4.5: when they hug the last time, you can see them hold hands for about two seconds once the hug has finished, as if they don't want to let go yet. (Which they probably don't because Charles knows that this is probably the last time that he'll see Arthur)

Reason 5: when Mary (again, Arthur's weird ex girlfriend/it's complicated) asks Arthur to run away from the gang and live with her, he says he can't because the gang is his family and he has to stay loyal to Dutch (who is Arthur's father figure/leader of the gang) but when Charles says he's staying to help the Native Americans, Arthur is immediately like "Okay I'll stay too" ............ yeah okay buddy those are totally straight tendencies

Reason 6: Charles is one of the few people that actually shows compassion, care, and offers Arthur a sort of solution when he tells Charles that he's dying. He also says "Oh Arthur" and it's the most devastating thing ever

Reason 7: Charles doesn't make fun of Arthur like. Ever. everyone else calls him stupid and not worth much else than basically a work horse. There are two times when Charles does say it but the first time is when Arthur makes a joke and he goes "you simple minded fool" but like. In a silly way. And the other time Arthur is being Problematic and Charles goes "I know you're not as tough and dense as all that"

Reason 8: Charles goes back for Arthur, finds his body, and buries him. And his grave isn't just the regular tombstone that anyone else's is. It's hand carved wood, on a mountain overlooking the morning sun because "That's what he would have wanted". And there's also flowers purposefully grown there as well

Reason 9: Arthur isn't often given a choice in who he gets to take on missions but when he does, it's always Charles.

Reason 10: Arthur is weirdly submissive towards Charles? Not in a sexual way, but he won't take orders from anyone else besides Dutch and Hosea, and then also Charles.

Reason 11: At the beginning Arthur doesn't just ride anyone's horse, he rides CHARLES'S horse. And also when he dies, Taima takes him to his final resting place

[lila-went-missing]

Can I have a whipped!Clarisse x sunshine!reader headcannons or one shot idk (could reader be either a Hecate daughter or just unspecified?) :3

Have a nice day/night

Ugh, I love Grumpy X Sunshine.

Clarisse x Sunshine!Reader Headcannons

Okay, literally no one expected you two to start dating.

Plot-twist of the century vibes.

You're so sweet and kind to everyone, offering your magical insight to anyone who asks you.

And she's so tough and brutal all the time, always picking fights with people over the smallest things.

Literal polar opposites, but opposites attract.

I feel like she would be pining over you from the moment you met.

Something about you drew her in. Maybe the way you carried yourself, maybe it was your natural talent for magic.

Either way, she's so whipped for you.

You have her wrapped around your finger without even trying.

I feel like she's the kind of person to practice what she's going to say to you before she actually asks you out.

I can just imagine her pacing around her cabin when no one is around whispering the script she made in preparation.

Because of her dad constantly ignoring her, and what little attention she does get being him telling her that she'll never be good enough, or never as good as her brothers, she has a MASSIVE fear of rejection.

That really plays a role in how she asks you out.

She'd literally be so nervous it's not even funny.

When she does eventually ask you out there is a lot of stuttering and stumbling over words.

You would probably be in your cabin, just finishing brewing a potion when she comes to you.

You can't help but laugh at how nervous she is, finding it rather adorable.

Obviously she gets really offended and tries to leave, telling you to forget she said anything in the first place.

You pull her back to you and kiss her.

"I wasn't laughing to make fun of you, I was laughing because you're cute."

From that moment on, her protectiveness SKYROCKETS.

Someone looks at you wrong? They're in the infirmary getting stitches.

Someone calls you a freak because of your mom being Hecate? She's lost dessert privileges for the next five months.

Eventually you do have to talk to her and tell her to tone it down.

But that just ends in y'all making out on her bed.

How is she supposed to be serious when her girlfriend is sitting there looking so pretty and perfect, and her lips are just so kissable.

SPEAKING OF, you can't tell me this girl isn't obsessed with kissing you.

Doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, she will kiss you at any point in time.

Lips, forehead, nose, cheek, neck, shoulder, you name it.

She could literally be about to break someones bones until you come up.

The mood switch is IMMEDIATE.

From "I will literally murder you." to "Oh hey baby, how was your day." and just kissing all over your face.

It gives everyone whiplash.

But they get used to it eventually.

She's just so in love with you.

You're literally the first person to ever show her what it's like to genuinely be loved and not just wanted as a weapon.

You're the first and only person she says "I love you" to.

You're especially the first person and only person she means it to.

It takes her a while to open up because she hates being perceived as weak or soft. After a while though, she will start coming to you with her problems.

She'll occasionally come to your cabin in the middle of the night after having a nightmare, usually about you dying.

She never wants to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her until she falls back asleep.

Everyone in both of your cabins comes to love y'all.

I like to think that Ares cabin is sworn to a mutual secrecy because almost all of them have someone they sneak in at night to cuddle.

But they all have a reputation to uphold no one talks about it.

If you think regular Clarisse likes to cuddle, Whipped!Clarisse is 10x worse.

She'll never admit it, but cuddling you is one of her favorite things ever.

Her guilty pleasure is laying on your chest or being the little spoon.

She just likes the feeling of being held by the only person she's ever loved.

This ended up being A LOT longer than expected. Sorry (not really) y'all, went on a tangent.

[ystrike1]

My Villain Fiancé is Interfering With My Flowery Path - By May Rain (7.5/10)

Being framed for murder sucks, especially when your hands are genuinely clean. A fake saint steps aside when the real one appears gracefully, only to find blood under her feet. Her sweet, handsome fiance has been disposing of all who doubt her.

Thisbe is a child from a famous family. Experts determined that she was the one and only Saint who would save the land when she was just a baby. Her loving but stern grandpa forced her to train day and night. When the real saint came Thisbe snapped.

That Thisbe died.

She has been replaced with another soul. A regular Woman From Korea.

Said Woman is happy to live as Thisbe...but not really. She plans to abandon her fiancé and escape. To where? Well, the nation of magic. All people with magic can enter the secluded nation to become a citizen, as long as there are no criminal charges against them.

Thisbe is no Saint, but she does have magic. She can flee to this remote country. It'll be tough to get there though. Magic is still a mystery in most nations. That's why she was mistakenly hailed as a savior in the first place. Very few powerful magic users are born outside of the secluded magic country.

The old version of Thisbe never stopped believing she was the Saint, because she does have strong magic. It just wasn't holy magic and she was born in a country with a low understanding of magic. She lived in angry, bitter ignorance.

Luckily Woman From Korea already knows everything.

The real saint, Estelle, appears. She saves everybody from a giant wolf. The Saint has a certain type of magic. Magic that turns bloodthirsty monsters into friendly puppies. Thisbe has a more common type of battle magic. The difference in their skills is clear.

Rumors fly. Everybody thinks Thisbe will try to murder her usurper, but Thisbe is nothing but kind....in public.

Thisbe reads the paper and she's doomed. She can't enter magic country. Why? Well, she's been accused of murder. The people who don't support her Saint title keep dying in highly suspicious accidents. She is the main culprit, even though she has an alibi. Even though she's nice to Estelle. The misunderstanding is impossible to shake.

Thor is her friend and fiance.

He's a puppy yandere. A very sweet and loving guy that loves to torture people who insult his fiance. He also really, really doesn't want her to leave him.

Thisbe thinks Thor is with her out of obligation. That's the way arranged marriages are. She of course believes they are friends. She thinks she's a great guy, but he doesn't think he loves her romantically.

In her defense he is too...casual? He never boldly proclaims his love. They just hang out and drink tea...and he kills people who insult her behind her back.

Thankfully he doesn't really see Estelle as a threat. Estelle is a nice girl. Thisbe has alot of real enemies though. People who will always hate her because of her high pedigree. Thor has been quietly, and now loudly, getting rid of them.

All of the snakes who are supporting Estelle don't actually care for her. They are just supporting her because she's special. Estelle has very few real allies.

Thisbe doesn't get to run away. There's no need for her to hide in the mage country. Estelle really needs her help, and Thor does genuinely love her...even though he's a bit of a villain.

Thisbe is going to become a great pillar of support for the Saint and the Duke.

Also everybody who dislikes her is going to die.

[lady-djarin]

apple pie

bucky barnes x f!reader (one shot)

warnings: soft!bucky, longing, flirting, oral (m receiving), pet names (baby, doll), p in v sex (unprotected- wrap it up y’all), fingering, praise, choking, 18+ minors dni GO AWAY YOUNGLINGS

word count: 4.7K

a/n: heyyy so i finally did it! after way to long here she is. this is not edited very much at all so i apologize but i don’t completely hate it and it fills the hole in my heart that is reserved for bucky <3 enjoy!

Growing up in your small town of Delacroix, Louisiana, everybody knew everybody. One of your good friends growing up was Sarah Wilson. Everyone knew the Wilson’s. especially when Sam became an Avenger. You were born in the city and loved it; the small fishing port, friendly people and small town America feel it had. You worked at one of the oldest diners in town that almost everyone was a regular at. Your uncle owned the place so you helped out when you had the free time. Nothing too exciting ever happened in your sleepy little corner of the south, not until Sam came back to town that is.

The whole town had been buzzing about Sam's return home and all the good work he had done as an Avenger. Sarah had also told you about the “broodingly handsome” friend he had brought home with him. She said that Sam and his friend ‘Bucky’ had been working on the boat constantly, trying to get it up and running. They had stopped in a few times here and there to get lunch or pick up dinner for the whole family but never stayed long enough to talk. There were some moments where you caught the mysterious man looking your way but brushed it off as nothing important. You did agree with Sarah, Bucky was handsome but you figured he’d probably be leaving sometime soon to go save the world or whatever it is that Avengers do.

On Sunday nights you always stayed late to make your signature apple pie for the week to sell at the diner. Everyone had gone home for the night and you were left to finish baking the last pie. You were sitting behind the diner counter, mindlessly scrolling on your phone when the soft jingle of the front door broke you out of your haze.

“Miss apple pie!” Sam's voice was always a cause to make you smile. You were like brother and sister and you had endless good memories growing up with him.

You looked up and your heart skipped a beat when your gaze met that of the dark haired man beside Sam. You hadn’t thought much of him before, he was attractive, sure but not until now did you really feel anything for the man. His hair was messy, just slightly from working on the boat all day and his white shirt was now covered in grease. He looked rugged and tough in an almost perfect way. His blue eyes stood out under his dark eyebrows, they almost glowed in the soft light of the diner.

“Hey you two, come sit down, I just finished making some.” The two tall men sat in front of you, plopping down with a sigh. Bucky rubbed his right shoulder with his left arm and a glint of metal caught your attention, peeking through the end of his sleeve under his glove. You wondered why he wore the glove but never asked, in fear of offending him. You served the boys their slices of pie and watched as they dug in. You loved making food for people, especially baked goods. Watching people enjoy your hard work filled your chest with pride. The three of you ate and talked for a while until your last pie was done in the oven.

“So, what are you still doing in this small town? I always thought you would get out of here and write a book, or do something amazing,” Sam asked as he wiped his mouth where crumbs of pie crust had fallen.

“Well, you know how it is, my family needed me. Plus where would I go? I don't really have anywhere else to go,” you sighed, placing the now done pies in the fridge, ready for the week.

“You could go anywhere, the world is a large place,” Bucky finally spoke up, otherwise quiet until now. You stared at him, kind of in shock, hearing something coming from his lips.

“I guess that's true...” his icy gaze captured yours, making you unable to look away. A sharp ringtone broke through the silence, causing you to lose your focus on the man in front of you.

“Hi Sarah, I-- yes, I’m on my--- Ok! Ok! I'll be right there, bye,” Sam hung up the phone as he rubbed his forehead. “Sorry guys, I promised Sarah I’d help the boys with their homework,” he shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his plate to help clean.

“No no, don’t worry about it. You guys go, I'll clean,” you took the plates from both men and turned to put them in the sink.

Bucky finally spoke up again. “I’ll stay and help you clean, I'll meet you at home later Sam,” he grabbed the rest of the dirty dishes and pie tins before rounding the counter. Sam said his goodbyes before rushing out the door, mumbling about being late. The two of you spent some time cleaning and making small talk, he told you about how he met Sam through a mutual friend, who just so happened to be Captain America. So naturally you questioned him about that as much as he would allow, until the entire diner was clean. Soon you both realized how late it was and started to head out.

“Thank you for helping, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, considering Sam dined and dashed,” you laughed at the thought of him being yelled at by Sarah over the phone. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Oh I didn't drive, I only live a few blocks away so I walk,” you motioned down the street, intending to walk alone.

“Well I'm not going to let a pretty lady like you walk home alone,” he stepped closer, eyes lidded and glued to your lips. “Especially looking as sweet as you do,” his hand snaked its way up to your face and he swiped his thumb across your lower lip. He held it up to the light to see a spot of powdered sugar on his thumb.

You were about to say how embarrassing it was that you had it on your face all evening but you had a feeling he did that on purpose when he stuck his thumb into his mouth. He relished the taste on his tongue and the almost imperceivable sound that came from his throat made your chest tighten. He smiled that sweet smile like he didn't just do… that, and he stuck his elbow out to escort you down the sidewalk.

The tone of your conversation had definitely shifted towards flirty while walking back to your apartment. He rested his gloved hand on top of yours, a soft yet strong gesture, telling you he would protect you if need be. The two of you walked side by side, getting to know each other with mindless small talk. He didn't talk much, mostly asking about you but he always looked like you were telling him the most interesting thing in the world. Finally you reached your apartment building, though you tried to walk slowly, because of how much you enjoyed his company.

“Well, this is me. Thank you for walking me home, James,” he told you his full name, although now he regrets it.

“Please, my friends call me Bucky.”

“Oh are we friends... Bucky?” You took a chance and stepped closer, closing the small distance between you two. Testing the waters, you put your hand on his chest, right next to his shoulder. Under his shirt you could feel something hard right near the top of his peck. You kind of toyed with the seam of it under your fingers without trying to draw your eyes to the area.

“It's metal,” he had kind of a lost, sad look in his eye.

“I’m sorry I didn't mean to–” you withdrew from him now, feeling awkward at the confession. You could see the hurt in his eyes from the memories that must be playing in his mind. Sam had told you some of the awful things he went through in the service so you can't imagine what Bucky had gone through.

“It's alright, have a good night, doll,” his soft lips gently kissed the apple of your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

Doll. Doll?

Usually you hated cheesy nicknames that men used to make women feel smaller, but coming from his lips, oh lord did it sound nice. The tall man stood watch as you made your way into your apartment building, one last wave before seeing you disappear into the elevator. He would never admit it, but his heart was in his throat the entire time he was with you.

------

“Nothing happened Sam. I walked her home, that's all,” Bucky threw his hands up in defense, neglecting to tell Sam about the kiss on the cheek.

“That's all that better have happened. She's like a sister to me,” Sam was always protective of you, even against his best friend.

“Don't worry Sammy, nothing happened… yet,” he mumbled the last word as he turned away, not letting his friend hear his true intentions.

He would never tell Sam, but he was already over the moon for you, even after only a few interactions. The small smile on your face whenever he spoke, the adorable way you froze when he wiped the sugar off your lip. He had been wanting to do that all night and he was so glad he finally got the courage.

“Buck, I swear, if you so much as think about it–”

“Oh come on, relax! I won’t!”

The two men were standing in the kitchen after the rest of the family had gone to bed. As Sam walked past his friend to go to bed, he whispered to his friend, “Be nice to her, ok? She's like a sister.”

“Will do, Wilson.”

—--

You were cleaning up the diner after closing, tired and sticky from a long day, ready to go home. You had the radio on louder than usual to motivate the cleaning process, unaware of the door jingle you danced your way around the floor, broom in hand. You spun around a corner to head towards the front and finish sweeping when you collided with a solid chest. A small scream lept from your throat when large hands turned you around to face the most beautiful blue eyes.

“Oh Bucky! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry doll, just wanted to see if you need a walk home?” His eyes sparkled when he saw your face, a wide smile to go with them.

“I would love that! Let me put this stuff away, give me a minute.”

You put the cleaning supplies away and turned off the lights and radio while Bucky sat at the same barstool the night you met him. When you were done you gathered up your belongings and Bucky walked you out as you locked the door. He offered his elbow just like the last time.

Such a gentleman.

“So, how was your day?” His voice was deeper than usual.

“Oh you know, the usual. Busy.”

You made small talk the whole way home, like you had known each other forever. By the time you got to your building neither of you wanted it to end.

“Hey… do you want to come in for a beer?” You weren't sure how he would perceive it but with how comfortable he seemed with you, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

“I’d love to.”

The two of you walked up to your apartment and settled into your place like you had done it a dozen times. You opened a beer for the both of you and sat on the couch, close enough to make you want to reach out and touch him. Of course Bucky was an attractive guy and the chemistry was electric, but you didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

After the conversation became comfortable and more than a few beers were empty, you felt bold.

“So…Bucky…” You were still nervous to ask.

“Yes, doll?”

“Can I ask you something…personal?”

You could see the slight change in his demeanor, the anxiety in his face.

“Anything.”

“What happened to your arm?” You could feel your heartbeat out of your chest as your voice shook.

There was a static silence, something shifted in him and you could see it.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It-it’s none of my business… I’m sorry.” you got up and collected the empty bottles, heading to the kitchen when his voice froze you.

“It was the war…” he sounded distant. Like he was in that memory again.

“Bucky, please its ok, I'm sorry i ask–”

“No I… I want to tell you. It was a mission, I thought I was dead...”

You couldn't bear to hear anymore, you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. He didn't know how to react at first but he slowly slipped his hands around your waist, pulling you into him. He held you like you were a lifeline, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“I'm so sorry Bucky… you didn't deserve this.”

He breathed deep, like he was holding back a sob. You rubbed your hands up and down his back, soothing him while he steadied his breathing again. He pulled away from you just enough to bring his face to yours, his breath fanned across your lips. You looked into each other's eyes, you could feel the mood change. Something was different.

He slid his gloved hand up your arm until it cradled your cheek, the leather feeling foreign on your skin. You put your hand over the glove, pulling it down to your face. Slowly turning over his hand you undid the strap on the top of his glove. Pulling the glove off, revealing a dark gray metal in place of fingers. There were intricate gold details woven through the thin plates of metal.

“Oh my god…”

“I know it's–” he tried to pull his hand away.

“It's beautiful.” You were in shock, it was like he was made of midnight sky with gold stars flying across it.

He was stunned to say the least, unsure of how to respond. Instead, he placed his steel hand on your cheek again. You thought it would be cold, unfeeling. It was quite the opposite, it felt as alive as him.

You turned your head to kiss the inside of his palm, trailing your lips down to the inside of his wrist. You could hear a small hum from his chest, an approval.

That made you want to test the waters.

You put his hand back on your face, moving your face closer to him. You couldn't lie, you wanted to see what his arm looked like, actually, all of him. You slid your hand from his wrist up to his bicep and felt the lines of metal under the cotton shirt clinging to his body. He jolted in surprise but didn’t move away from you as you ran your fingers over the curves of muscle on his arms.

You could still see some hesitation in his beautiful eyes, telling you not many other people might have seen as much of him. You wanted to show him this wasn't some meaningless fling to you, you understood the gravity of this for him.

“James…” He smirked at the formality. “You can tell me to stop.”

The thought never came to him. Instead of putting it into words, he hauled you into his seated lap. The motion pleasantly surprised you, you were glad he took charge and made the decision. You could feel the hardness under your thighs, making it seem like all of him was made of metal. The slightest roll of your hips made him groan from deep in his chest.

“Baby I-” The nickname slipped off his tongue so naturally you almost missed it. “I haven't, uhh, you know– it's been a while.”

“Hey, it's ok. Me too,” you laughed at yourself. Dating in a small town is hard, especially when you know everyone and everyone knows you. You were still moving in his lap, almost undetectable, but enough to make his length harden.

You couldn't tell but he was losing his grip, trying to hold back and not rush you either. You had him mesmerized, lost in your eyes and his hands on your hips that were moving against him. He wanted nothing more than to touch every inch and taste just as much. You were lazily kissing, neither one wanted to break the spell.

His lips were soft like silk and he smelled like smoke and motor oil. The thought of him working on that boat with Sam made your thighs clench. You could imagine him bare chested and sweaty out in the Louisiana sun. You intertwined your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck to draw him closer. The motion sealed your lips together further and his tongue danced across yours as his hands roamed your body. He caressed and squeezed every curve he could find, leaving you breathless.

You needed more.

You wanted to taste him.

You kissed your way down his neck and clothed chest all while trying to remove his shirt. You slid down on your knees between his thighs and looked up at him with bated breath. He didn't object to your action and you took it as a sign to continue. You worked the button and zipper open on his jeans and he moved his hips out of the confining fabric. His hard length was tenting his underwear and your mouth practically watered at the sight. Your hands on his thighs slid closer to the waistband of his boxers, pulling the fabric slightly. You peppered little kisses and small bites along all his clothed skin, watching him get visibly harder.

“Oh fuck baby…” his voice was dark and soothing. He was holding back for your sake, letting you do what you want but he was slowly starting to slip.

You finally removed the remaining clothing around his hips and motioned for him to remove his shirt. The muscles on his chest strained with the effort and before he leaned back again you were on him. You wrapped your mouth around the head dripping with precum before he even saw you do it.

“Shit–” His hands flew into your hair to hold you just like that and he relaxed into the couch. Your mouth worked him the best you could but he wasn't a small guy by any standard. Your eyes watered when you took him all the way, your nose hitting the curls at the base of him. He groaned at the warmth of your mouth and knew he wouldn't last long. You bobbed your head up and down while his large hand gripped your hair, pulling just hard enough to feel good. You knew you were dripping, ruining your underwear but you didn't care. All you wanted was to hear this man moan your name for as long as he’d allow. Your name came in broken moans as he chased his high.

Bucky was getting carried away, he should be the one pleasing you not the other way around, he thought. But when you slid your tongue up the vein running along him, he was powerless to stop you. He almost felt guilty for it but couldn't bring himself to make you stop, you felt too good.

The salty taste of precum told you he was close, painfully close, so naturally… you slowed down. You were torturing him a little bit but having this powerful super soldier in the palm of your hand was just too good. You could see the almost painful look in his face when he looked down at you, urging you to touch him.

“James… I need you.”

His name, those three words, it sent him tumbling over that edge of control. He extended his hand to help you up and before you could get your bearings he pulled you down to fall onto the couch. So there you were, face down in the pillow with your fully clothed ass in his face. He pulled the band of your soft pants down your hips, along with your underwear, fully exposing you. The cool air of the room brushed your skin as he moved behind you. His hands were steady as they moved across the skin of your ass. You were dripping no doubt. The slick feeling was making you blush, Bucky hadn’t even really touched you yet and you were practically putty in his hands.

Your heart was thundering in your chest knowing he was staring at you, probably deciding what to do. After a brief moment he pulled you up against his chest, one hand on your chest over your shirt and the other sneaking up under the hem of the fabric.

“Jesus, you…” he nuzzled his nose into the hair draped over your neck. “You're so soft.”

He ran his hands under your top and pulled the thin bra over your hardening nipples. He lightly brushed his fingertips over the pebbled skin and you unclasped the band of your bra and pulled off your top to let him have full access to all of you. His touch was so soft and sweet, it made you even wetter. You had a feeling he was holding back because he was afraid to hurt you.

Oh, if he only knew.

“Please, Bucky… I-I want you. All of you.” your voice was so small that you barely heard it.

“What baby? What do you need?”

You clenched around nothing hearing his voice, whining a response not able to form words. You pushed your hips back into him, feeling his hard length against your soft backside. His voice echoed in your ear, almost like a low growl from his chest.

“I– p-please…” You were delirious. And his roaming hands were not helping.

His lips were just as curious as his hands. His tongue was tracing the strong pulse in your neck all the way up to your ear. He sucked on the sensitive skin behind your ear and you rolled your head back to accommodate him. You couldn't help how your eyes fluttered closed when he pulled your hair back to keep your neck exposed. His fingers were tangled in your hair, he completely controlled where your head was. You moaned as he continued to lick and nip at your neck and slowly inched his metal fingers toward your slick center.

The dark metal was biting in a good way, harder than flesh but still comforting to the touch. The gold glinted off the low light in the room, catching your eye. Your gaze followed his fingers as they spread the wetness around your clit. You moaned as he sped up his movements until you were a painting mess, his arms the only thing holding you up.

“Oh f-fuck… mmm Ja–James…” You whined when he pushed his middle two fingers into your heat. Your hips ground onto his hand, the metal smooth yet the grooves in the design made you dizzy as your sensitive bundle of nerves ground into the heel of his hand. You were seeing stars and were quickly barreling toward a release. His chest pressed against your back let you feel his climbing heartbeat and rapid breathing.

Just as you felt a warmth start to spread in your lower stomach, he pulled his expert fingers away. You slumped against the loss and moaned in protest.

“I need to see your face when you cum.”

He swallowed your moan and shifted you to lay on your back, ever so softly. Ever the gentleman. Your heart swelled. Before you had a chance to register, his massive arms opened your legs and pushed your knees up to your chest. His grip was strong enough to bruise and you hoped it did. He ran his metal fingers over your soft folds, through your slick and hummed as he licked it off.

“Mhmm, sweet as apple pie.” He gave you that devastatingly brilliant smirk that just made you melt.

You hummed as he rubbed his tip through your folds, his chest exhaling above your face. He locked eyes with you as he guided his length into your swollen pussy. You practically purred as he bottomed out inside you. It was like liquid ecstasy was running through your veins, something you never experienced before.

“Jesus Christ, look at you doll.” His voice sounded like it had been dragged out of him, across gravel. The sound made you clench around him. “Y’look so pretty like this…” his words were almost slurred, like he was drunk on you.

And if he was honest with himself; he was drunk on you. This was a new feeling, entirely its own. It felt like his body was reacting to yours in some indescribable way. As he rocked into you, the only sounds were of your quiet moans and breaths, your noises spurring him on more.

“L-let me hear you baby… talk t– talk to me.”

“James… oh my– my god, you feel so…so good.” You clung onto his arms as they framed your head. You turned toward his mechanic arm, your lips meeting his thumb. You licked the digit, wanting to feel the metal in your mouth. He must have noticed your unconscious movements because he adjusted his arm and cupped his hand around your jaw, the thumb teasing your bottom lip. His hips never lost their rhythm as he pushed his thumb into your mouth. You moaned and sucked on his finger and his grip tightened on your face and eventually slid to your neck.

You couldn’t help the small smile that broke on your lips. You knew he saw it, and that he knew what it meant. The metal digits tightened around your throat, just enough to send stars across your vision.

“Oh fuck… you’re so fu— fucking tight. You— you like that don’t you? You like my hand around your throat?”

He was picking up the pace now. Whether he meant to or not his hips were slamming into you much harder now, every thrust causing his grip to tighten on your neck. The lewd noise of him moving inside you was ringing in your ears, the loss of blood flow made you dizzy. But you think you might just die if he stopped.

He kept his Vibranium hand on your pulse while he sat back and reached between you. For a moment you thought he was going to stop but when his fingers found your sensitive clit, you gasped at the feeling. He knew just how to fill your veins with fire, set your whole body ablaze. As he expertly circled your bundle of nerves you could feel his significant size swell inside you. You knew he was close.

“Bu— Bucky… please…” your words were long and drawn out. You were teetering on the edge now, practically vibrating with your pent up release. You needed one thing, one small thing to send you over that edge.

And he was that one thing.

“Fuck— where?”

You knew his release was going to be your salvation. You wrapped your legs around his hips, sealing him to you, telling him to empty inside you. Your walls clamped down on him, wringing him dry as he came and practically whined in your ear. He never stopped his movements on your clit. Feeling him finish inside you was all you needed to scream his name as the fire in your veins exploded. You came harder than you ever have before, like nothing you ever experienced.

You both could do nothing but lay there as your bodies recovered. Bucky stroked your arm and hummed as you nuzzled into him.

“Shower?” his chest rumbled with the words.

“Only if I can come with.”

“Deal.”

He kissed you all the way to the bathroom and didn’t let you lift a finger while he turned on the shower and made sure there were towels for both of you.

You didn’t know what to expect of the mysterious soldier but, boy you were not disappointed.

Sadly, you had a feeling deep in your stomach that he wouldn’t be around long. I mean, who can expect a superhero to stick around for very long when there is a whole word to save.

But damn it if you weren’t going to enjoy it while it lasted.

[anjelagarrick]

solace

simon riley x reader

summary: your boyfriend’s having an off day, you decide to comfort him.

tags: established relationship, depression, reverse comfort, fluff, a bit of angst, soft! simon

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

ADJUSTING THE SKIRT of your uniform, you smooth the creases, making sure your outfit was spotless before exiting the bathroom. Working as a barista was nice, you got to meet nice people, make cute latte art, it’s how you met your late boyfriend- he was dragged in by the arm by one of your regulars, Johnny. Simon was a big, burly man- hard eyes, quiet yet gruff voice. You found his mask adorable, unlike your co-workers that always had you serve him. Eventually, you managed to crack his wall and start little conversations; and eventually he came alone, no Johnny. He’d sit, observe. He was a good people watcher, you’d have to give him that. Something blooms, and eventually, you hesitantly leave your number upon a napkin, sliding it under his drink. You watched anxiously as he sat down, glancing at the napkin. He reads it for an awfully long time before pocketing it, he doesn’t look at you. He just drinks his drink, then leaves.

You feel extremely lucky that you managed to become his lover. Simon, despite looking tough and rough on the outside, was such a sweet man. He held you gently, helped you with cooking, he made you laugh. What got you to fall in love was his eyes, honey brown eyes that stared at you with adoration and joy, how he’d go from a stony look in public to a softened gaze when his eyes found you when you were out with friends. You understood that Simon would have to be away a lot, with his work and everything, you remember the first week he was away. You fretted, texting him every hour to make sure he was alive and kicking. With time; you developed more faith in your boyfriend’s abilities (not that you doubted them), and you held hope that he would come back. Simon had come home from deployment roughly about a week ago. He kept his experience quiet, not giving you many details- which wasn’t weird for him, yet something in him seemed more… sad.

“Baby, i’m going to work.” You lean upon the doorframe. Simon, to your surprise, was still in bed. With his job as a soldier, you were used to Simon getting up at six a.m, sharp, not a minute behind nor over. He’d have his coffee, go to the gym, come back and shower then allow himself to relax. Yet right now, as of seven forty-five a.m, he was in bed- in the same position you left him in. You knew he was awake, you had spoken to him briefly, told him good morning and kissed him sweetly. Simon doesn’t respond, his back to you. Slowly, you move away, walking down the hall. Instead of collecting your flats, you pick up your phone from next to your bag. It rings twice, then your boss picks up. “Hey, sir… so sorry but im gonna have to take the day off. Something came up.” You tell him, hearing your boss sigh. “Really? Rush hour is about to start.” He complains. “I know, but this is really important..! I’ll work a double tomorrow and Thursday- I promise.” You insist, glancing back to the bedroom. “And Friday. See you tomorrow.” Your boss hangs up without a goodbye. Heading to the kitchen, you make your boyfriend a coffee- just the way he likes it, and head back to the bedroom.

Slowly so it wouldn’t spill, you place the steaming mug beside him. “Thought you were going to work?” He asks, voice raspy. “I called in sick.” You respond, changing from your uniform into some more casual wear. “Why?” Simon’s brows furrow as he watches you, not moving. “To take care of you. Somethings up, I can tell.” You reply, shrugging as you get back into bed beside him. Simon sighs, rolling onto his back. “You don’t have to. Just… having an off day.” He tells you, you hum, shuffling to rest against his chest. “Why? What’s the matter, baby?” You ask softly, hand moving up to gently trace over a scar upon his cheek. Simon raises his hand, enveloping your own and kissing your palm. “Dunno, just… not feeling good.” He responds. “Do you need medicine?” You blink up at him, watching him shake his head. “No, not physically…”

“Oh…” You mumble, letting the silence sit for a while. “Si, do you have- y’know… depression?” You ask sheepishly, worry growing. “Yeah, got diagnosed a while back. Before I met you.” You sit up at his response. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” You frown, cupping his cheeks gently. “Didn’t wanna burden you. This is my fight.” He sighs, letting his eyes close. “Simon, you’re not a burden. You should of told me, I want to help you.” You lean down, kissing his jaw gently. “You’re such a good guy, Si. You deserve the world, and I want to support you as much as I possibly can.” You tell him, thumb still stroking his scar. “You… you don’t have to, babe. I’m fine.” Simon lies, voice thick; as if he were going to cry. “Simon…” you sigh, resting your head against his as you try to soothe him. “Let me help you.” You beg quietly. Simon stays silent for a few moments. “…okay.” He mutters, hand finding your back. You smile, kissing his temple before sitting up. “Okay. I have some ideas, just to get you out of bed and have you feeling active.” You move your hands to rest on his chest.

“I’m listening.” He responds. “Good! The first idea is, we could go out to a café; there’s a new one out of town that i’ve heard good things about. It’s not too far, to be fair.” You explain, watching his eyes; they’re kind, loving. “Up to you, love.” Simon shrugs half-heartedly. “Well it’s your day, baby. We can do something else if you want?” You remind him, he hums. “Fine, we can check out this café.” He mutters, letting you pull him up. “Okay. Drink your coffee before it gets cold baby, we’ll go soon.” You respond, kissing his cheek gently. “Thanks love… you don’t have to do this.” He smiles, it’s small. “I want to do this. I hate seeing you sad.” You frown a little, kissing his lips before pulling away so he could drink his coffee. He hums softly, sipping his coffee. “I know, but still… thank you.” He responds.

“Why’re you feeling so down, anyway? Anything happen? Maybe at work?” You respond, hand gently massaging his arm, specifically the one wrapped around you. “Yeah… uh. My job isn’t easy, and… this guy I was working with for the first time, he got really messed up. Almost died- and I… I could of helped- could of prevented it. I… I ruined his life.” You hear his voice waver a little at the end, yet he immediately shuts his mouth, closing his eyes. “Oh, Simon. It’s not your fault.” You cup his cheeks, fluttering gentle kisses over his face. “It is. I could of been faster.” He insists, sighing shakily. “Simon, look at me. There is nothing you could of done differently. Your job is dangerous, he knew that when he signed up to join.” You tell him, voice much more firm. Simon sighs. “You did all you could, I’m sure.” You add on, kissing his lips gently. “You weren’t there.” He seethes, eyes darkening a little. You try not to let his tone hurt you. “But I know you. You’re such a sweetheart, you truly do care about the people around you, even though you won’t say it. I know you helped him, he’s still alive, isn’t he?” You ask, hands moving to his sides, gently massaging him. Simon let’s out another sigh, closing his eyes once more. “Look at me.” You mumble, patting his cheek gently. “It’s not your fault.” You insist.

Simon takes a moment, leaning his head against yours before taking a deep breath. “Yeah… okay, you’re right.” He mutters, squeezing his mug tightly as his other arm hugs you tight. “Of course i’m right, doofus.” You half joke, kissing the corner of his mouth; feeling it curl upwards as you do so. “Finish your coffee baby, and try not to worry. You’re home now.” You point out, he nods. “Yeah. Just gotta relax a little…” he responds, kissing you gently. “Thank you, baby.” He mumbles, you smile. “Of course! I’m not gonna abandon you, Si.” You coo, cuddling against his side as he drinks his coffee. “Want me to pick out an outfit for you baby?” You ask softly, head leaning against his shoulder. “If you want, love.” He shrugs a little. You smile brightly. “Great!” Moving away, you get up, moving to the closet. Simon watches you, a glint of amusement in his eyes as you pick your favourite things on him out and put them on the bed. “I heard this new place serves that cake you like. We’ll have to get some.” You say over your shoulder. Simon nods, finishing his coffee. “Sure thing, baby.”

[beomcoups]

Caller #17

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: basketball player!Soonyoung x college dj reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, 90s au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, talks of tough family dynamics, bit of heavy angst, kissing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

𝐀𝐍: This was not an easy fic. It took me way longer than I planned to write, and the story I had mapped out went in a different direction. I still feel proud of this one, my longest fic yet, and I hope that you will enjoy it too 🥹 This is a part of my very own Now That's 90's collab hosted by me and @mingsolo. Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and @hobeemin for making a banner for me at the last minute 💙

“Thank you for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s your song of the week?” “Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve!” “You got it! Thanks for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio at 526 AM.” Hitting play on the record, the orchestra's melody hits your ears, sending you into an out-of-body experience, your soul floating to cloud nine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand every time the song is played, and you imagine yourself playing the violin, getting lost in the beautiful and complicated sinfonia.  Working at the college radio station was your life. It’s the only place to lose yourself to TLC, Nirvana, and Weezer for hours without judgment. You are in your 3rd year of college, getting your bachelor’s in music theory so you can be one of the most prominent songwriters in the world. While everyone in high school didn’t know what they would be doing with their life, you always imagined yourself getting a Grammy for Song of the Year on stage. That is your real passion: creating musical poetry for the masses.

You slowly take the headphones off and set them down, looking at the big clock plastered on the wall. You let out a heavy sigh, sad that your time at the station is ending. You are allotted two hours a day on Saturday as a part of credit for your program. If you had it your way, you would be here daily, listening to your favorite records and writing songs between commercial breaks.

“Hey,” your professor Kim calls out from her office. “Come in here before you leave.”

You gather your things to leave, looking at the station one last time before entering the smaller space. This isn’t her regular office, but it has everything you think you would need: a desk, a comfortable chair, and bookshelves full of books and ornaments for decoration. You have spent a lot of time in here, pitching new ideas for the station and getting turned down every single time.

“What's up?” You sit in the chair opposite of her.

“So we will be introducing a new segment to the radio where callers can call in and ask for advice about anything, and then you can recommend a song based on what they are calling in about.:” She pauses to take a sip of water. “I want you to be a part of it.”

You don’t answer right away. You are peeved that Professor Kim wants you to head any segment. You have never shown any initiative to want to talk to anyone who calls in besides listening to music. It’s just not your thing. You are a loner at heart, and that’s how you plan to stay.

“Why me?” You finally speak up. “There are other people who are better at this than I am. Hell, ask Emily. She has been foaming at the mouth to talk about anything other than music.”

“Because you are who I want,” she shrugs. “I see how you look when you talk about your favorite releases. You go deep with the lyrics and how you can relate that to any part of your life. You are more than the person behind the voice, and it’s time other people see that.” “Well, I am not trying to be the next Oprah or Ricki Lake,” you scoff. I just want to play music, write my songs, and do whatever I need to do for the class.”

“No one said you would be the next talk show anything,” Professor Kim retorted. “This will be considered a project, and it’s worth 20% of your grade. Plus, when you are in the industry and have sessions with the artists about the song's lyrics, don’t you need to talk to them about their life and what they need? Think about that.” You nod, feeling defeated because you know you can’t talk your way out of this. You know she is right, but you will never admit it. “Plus, it’ll be a good idea to get out of your shell and work on those social skills,” she says. “We will start in a couple of weeks, so get your mind ready because before you know it, you will be there.” You nod and leave the office, your stomach grumbling loudly as you put your headphones on and listen to the latest Backstreet Boys release. It’s a quarter past seven, and dusk officially sets in the sky as you walk across campus. Working at the radio station is the highlight of your week, as you can’t play music loud at your dorm without others complaining. Fortunately, your dorm is set where you have your own space, but the walls are thin, and you can hear everything. You considered buying noise-canceling foam to cover your door but were told it was “against” the rules. Whatever. Your stomach rumbles again, and you are determined to get a burger and fries in your stomach and drink an Oreo milkshake. You cross the street, open your bag, and grab your wallet before being met with a screeching halt from a car in front of you, its headlights blaring in your eyes. “What the fuck?” You mouth at the driver. The driver pokes his head out the window, and you instantly recognize him as Soonyoung, the star point guard of the basketball team. His black Jeep is crowded, full of guys and girls, with Usher blasting through the speakers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he waves. “Yeah, no shit,” you retort, walking to the end before the car pulls off. Jeers and boos could be heard, but you could care less. People like that always get in your way no matter what. You avoid people like that as much as people, as you don’t want to be mixed in with that crowd. Soonyoung will eventually go pro and live the NBA life, whereas you will be on the stage accepting awards, with millions of people cheering your name.

The segment started as planned, and you sat and listened to every caller asking for advice. Most of them wanted advice on how to ask someone out for a date, makeup, and things you didn’t care about. The only thing that made it worth it was you got to pick the music to go with the advice, which allowed you to show off your taste in music, from Britney Spears to Mandy Moore, Usher, Sugar Ray, etc. It made the time go by faster as well. You look through the glass, and Professor Kim gives you a thumbs up to take the last call. Letting out a sigh of relief, you let the call ring a few times before you answer. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s on your mind?” “H-hello?” a tenured male voice booms through the speakers. You groan, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve reached C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s on your mind?”

“Hey. You can use this line to ask for advice, right?”

“Yep,” you say, a bit annoyed. “Whatcha got?”

There is a lengthy pause, your fingers tapping dramatically on the soundboard. You raise an eyebrow at the professor, who shrugs and walks out of your view. You hear shuffling in the background, followed by what sounds like something being sipped from a cup.

“S-sorry, I am a bit nervous,” he apologizes. “It’s my first time calling in.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I know how it is. How can I help?”

“So I already have this path carved out for me by my family and everyone who cares about me. Sports is all I have known all my life, and I have worked very hard to get here.” He stops for a brief second. “Everyone expects me to act like this all-star college boy, and no one ever talks to me about anything else than sports, and I am starting to hate it.”

“Do you mind telling me what kind of sports you’re in?”

“I play ball.”

“Okay, that's good. Well, what is it that you want?”

“I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be: this golden retriever everyone loves. I just want to be me.” You understood how he felt. Maybe not in sports, but people pushing you to be something you’re not. You come from a family of doctors and lawyers who expected you to be the same. “Get good grades so you can get into an Ivy League school” is all you heard growing up. When you were seven, you expressed interest in music, sitting in front of the family piano on Christmas and playing Jingle Bells, which you learned on your own. Your parents cared for a while, putting you in piano lessons and taking you all over the state for recitals. They figured if you kept this up until high school, it would look good on college applications, but nothing that they took you seriously for. It wasn’t until you learned how to play the guitar in secret that you fell in love with how the strings strummed against your fingers that you realized that your passion is music. Thanks to your choir teacher, you had a good voice and kept it in tune while practicing writing music. You soon sang in front of the school, getting high praise from people all over for your voice and how you would “make it big one day.” Your parents insisted that it was just a phase and that eventually you would become a doctor and make a “real” living. You were determined to prove them wrong by applying to one of the best music schools and getting in on a full ride. You did that, but it came with a cost: being cut off by everyone in your family but your grandparents. They believed in you from the beginning and made sure you were okay. You will pay them back in tenfold one day. “Hello?” the deep voice cut through your thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry,” you snap back into focus. “Do you want my advice?” “Yeah, I do,” you hear him clear your throat. ‘I think you should be who you want to be. It may feel a little different at first, but eventually, you will be happier being yourself.” “I mean…” he pauses for another second. “How do I go about that? How do I show people the real me?” “Hmm,” you think out loud. “Why don’t you try easing into it? Start a random conversation about something you are interested in that no one knows about. Gauge their reactions, and if they treat you weirdly, then start making new friends. It might be a little harder with your family, but they will come around. But either way, it’s exhausting having to hide yourself at the time. It’s the 90s and a new era!” “Yeah,” he says slowly. I’ll try that.Thanks.” “No problem!” You say. “Check out this song that’ll hopefully speak to your heart. This is me signing off on CARAT Radio, 800am.” You played “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, a personal favorite, closing out the end of your segment. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, some questions were annoying, but it allowed you to pass on music to people and help them get over whatever. You can’t call that a total loss. You push the mic to the side and leave the room, checking in with your professor before leaving. “Great job,” she leaned back into her seat. “You were well-spoken and composed, and the music selections were excellent. Have you thought about being a radio DJ?” “NO,” you snort. “I want to be more behind the scenes, writing songs and getting Grammys.” “Okay, okay,” Professor Kim chuckles. “But don’t rule it out. You are a natural at it.” You nod and head out the door with a small smile. Getting complimented about your work feels good, but you rule out being a radio DJ. You deal with people if you have to, but you prefer to have time for yourself a lot of times. You’re just introverted like that. However, that last call was in the back of your mind. You just want to live and succeed at your dream job. It was nice knowing someone out there felt the same way you did. 

Before you knew it, a few weeks had passed, and you had secretly liked doing the segment every Saturday, talking to people from different backgrounds and listening to their troubles. You had a song for every call, and you bragged to your professor at the end of your shift that you had impeccable taste. The analytics showed that more people were tuning in during your segment than at any other time on the radio. Not gonna lie; it stroked your ego quite a bit.

The mystery guy called in on Saturdays, ironically being caller #17 every time. He would call and ask for advice about getting his grades up, coming out of his comfort zone, trying new things, etc. You got to know him a little, see how he solves problems, and see his sense of humor. You have no idea what he looked like, but you imagined he was just your type, like a Keanu Reeves, Theo Mizuhara, or Merlin Santana. Is it crazy that you sometimes daydream about a man you never met?

Today was the last day of the advice segment, and everyone called in with their usual advice and well wishes. Like clockwork, the mystery guy was caller #17. His breathing was labored when you answered, followed by a clunk of metal hitting the floor. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s your damage?”

“H-hey.” You know it was him; the sound of his voice was familiar to you. You shift in your seat, sitting straight and placing your elbows on the desk. You try to keep a poker face, your professor watching you with curious eyes. “Hey there,” you clear your throat. “How can I help?” “I heard today is the last day to ask for advice,” he says. “I can’t say I won’t miss calling and hearing your voice every Saturday.” “Oh yeah?” you chuckle. “ That’s good to know. Well, what is the last piece of advice that I can give you?” “So, there is this girl,” he starts. “I really like her. She’s cute, a bit of a hard ass, and I really like her mind. She’s not like anyone that I’ve met. How do I ask her out?” “Does she know you exist?” “Yeah. I almost ran into her once, but we talked a lot.” “Ah. Do you think she might like you?” “I-I’m not sure,” he stutters. “We get along and everything and we have some things in common. I just don’t know if she would be into me.” “Okay, well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her out? The worst that can happen is that she says no; at least you’d know.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m nervous as hell, that’s all. Have you dated anyone before?” You are taken aback, your professor raising her eyebrows through the glass. You nod, licking your lips before responding. “I’ve dated here and there,” you say slyly. “It wasn't anything serious. What about you?” ‘Um, yeah, I have,” he snorts.

“Well, there you go then, tiger.” You’re clearly entertained by this conversation. “Remember how you felt when you asked the other girls out, and apply that same confidence to this girl. You never know. She might say yes.” “Okay, I will take your word for it. Thank you.” “Not a problem!” You beam. “Here is the last song I leave you with: ’ 4-page letter’ by Aaliyah. Have a good night, ya’ll.”

You play the final track of the night, setting down the headphones while Professor Kim claps her hands in applause. You roll your eyes playfully, pushing your chair onto the desk and exiting the booth. You feel light as a feather, dopamine taking over your body as you meet your professor in her office. “Great job,” she smiles. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Maybe,” you plop down on a chair. “It was fun giving out music suggestions.” “Mhmm,” she nods. “Well, get out there and enjoy your Saturday. I will see you in class on Friday.” You grab your things and leave the station, your stomach rumbling and your mouth parched. It’s after 8, and the nearest thing open is the local pizza joint with the best pepperoni pizza with the cheesiest cheese you’ve ever had. You go there often, and the owners, Dante and Gabriella, get your order ready before you sit down. “The usual?” they always ask, knowing that you are a creature of habit. Aside from your grandparents, they were the closest thing to family to you, always making sure your pizza was hot and crispy with a tall cup of Coke to go with it. They asked about your studies, and Gabriella always asked when you’d get a boyfriend. 

“Ah, stop it, amore mio,” Dante jokingly shushes her. “She has all her life to find the love of her life.”

More people started coming in, and they left you to your food and your walkman. You gleefully put Parmesan cheese over your pizza, taking the first bite and feeling instant gratification. A slice of heaven, literally. You take your headphones on, listening to Kurt Cobain croon on Nirvana’s Something In The Way. The “Nevermind” album got you through some tough times, especially when your family cut off communication with you. It hurt you and made you feel isolated and misunderstood. On the outside, your mom and dad put on this persona of being open-minded and willing to do anything for the family. Why were you the exception? You feel the tears well up, and you get yourself together before people start to notice, eating the rest of your pizza before you call it a night. You look around, seeing people on dates or hanging out with their friends, and you miss that. You had friends back home, but you all split up before you went to college. Who knows what their lives are like now. It’s not like you are visiting home anyway. You clean up your mess and walk into the bathroom, relieving yourself and washing your hands before returning to your dorm. You looked at yourself in the mirror: your jean jacket covered your black button-up shirt, shorts, and stockings underneath. Your eyes were slightly red, a contrast from your fresh face. Stifling a yawn, you leave and wave goodbye to Dante, opening the side door and bumping into someone in the process. You look up, facing Soonyoung, his cheerful eyes meeting yours. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” you mutter, backing up and adjusting your jacket. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” he responds, opening the door to let you out. Your head snaps up, half expecting him to not hear you.  You rake your fingers through your hair, walking out of the restaurant. He’s a handsome guy, you can admit that, with his fresh, faded haircut and trendy clothes. You get why he is popular with everyone. “I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car the other day,” he calls out. “It’s alright,” you turn around. “Just don’t make it a habit.” “Alright.” He chuckles and goes inside, and you speed walk to your dorm. Did I just flirt with him? You think to yourself. What the fuck was that? You aren’t even interested in Soonyoung in that way. You two are the two opposites of each other. You’re clearly losing your mind.

The cool air calms you down, and the slight breeze underneath the moonlight keeps you at bay until you get to your building. It’s Saturday night, and everyone’s out; the only sound being heard is your boots hitting the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway to your dorm. Unlocking your door, you notice an envelope tucked underneath it. You sit on the bed, open it, and pull out a letter. I know this isn't a four-page letter, but I like you. You’re funny, have good jams, and are down to earth. Did I say that you’re cute? I like talking to you every Saturday and don’t want it to stop. 

 I want to take you out to a concert on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 4 at your dorm. I know you've said yes if you’re there when I arrive. —Caller #17

“What do you think of this?” Your former roommate and good friend, Nikki Prince, holds up a black leather jacket in your size. You asked her to go shopping with you for an outfit for tomorrow's impending date, and you needed another set of eyes. She majors in architecture and design but models on the side thanks to her striking looks. A tall, tanned skin and green-eyed beauty, she now lives with her much older chef boyfriend, Caelan, but whenever you need her, she’s always there. She’s French, stylish, and brutally honest. You loved that about her. “I dig that,” you take it from her and try it on. It fits you just right. It would be chilly, so you bought new boots, a white shirt, and black jean shorts to wear with black stockings underneath. You wanted to be comfortable as you would be on your feet all night. 

“Are you sure about this date?” Nikki’s foreign accent comes through. “How do you know this guy isn’t some serial killer? We’ve all seen Scream.” “Gee, thanks, mom,” you roll your eyes. “If he tries anything with me, I’ll just show him the moves I learned from the YMCA.” 

“I’m serious. This is risque for you, no?” You shrug, slowly taking off the jacket and heading to the cashier. “I get your point, and if anything happens, I can defend myself. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen.” You greet the cashier and pay for the jacket. “I’ll call you before I leave and tell you about it the next day. Deal?” Nikki nods, and you both walk out of the store, satisfied with what you bought. The mall is busy for a Thursday night, with young adults frolicking at stores like Rave and Wet Seal, looking for the latest fashion trends. The mall isn’t really your scene, as you prefer to thrift shop for your clothes. You have been lucky to find some hidden gems there, especially since you are on a limited budget. Nikki, however, said it was a special occasion, and you quote, “You are not going on a date in someone else’s vêtements.”

You stop at Auntie Anne’s, buying a massive pretzel with cheese on the side, while Nikki opts for a small lemonade. You offer her a piece, which she declines, saying her boyfriend, Caelan, will make her dinner later. “How is that going, by the way?” You sit down at a table. “It’s going good,” she enthuses, raking her fingers through her long black tresses. “He’s so mature and sophisticated. Imagine not having to cook and clean after a man and have good sex.” “Well, yeah, he’s about six years older,” you remark. He better know a thing or two if he wants to keep his model.” Nikki gloats as you finish your pretzel, talking about the elaborate French dishes her boyfriend makes for her and how he worships the ground she walks on. Since you’ve known her, she has always been opinionated and refused to associate with people within your age group. Whenever you see her in the hallways, she always talks with teachers or ignores the lustful looks of college boys. You two got on well because you were roommates, and both were Scorpio risings. You understood each other. “Oh shoot, I better head back to the flat,” Nikki says, looking at her watch. Caelan is going to be home soon, and he is making steak frites tonight.” 

“Yeah, I gotta head to the dorm anyway. Early class tomorrow.”

You walk out of the mall into the chilly night air. She offers you a ride home, and you decline at first, saying that you will walk as it's pretty close. But a slight wind blows, bringing chills down your spine.

“Wait,” you shout after her. “I’ll take that ride.”

The ride was short and quiet, your mind occupied with your date with this mystery stranger. Nikki was right, you don’t know him, and he could be this crazy guy. But you’re also excited; the butterflies haven’t left your stomach since Saturday. You feel like you know him, and you don’t even know his name. He is just caller #17.

She pulls up to your building, and you hug her, preparing to run inside and shower. You know Nikki is still worried and means well, even if she sometimes acts like an overbearing old sister.

“Come over tomorrow at two if you can,” you announce. “You can help me get ready and meet my date in case anything goes crazy.”

“Alright,” Nikki seems relieved. “I’ll be there.”

You shut the door and shout your goodbyes before sprinting inside.

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The next day went fast, like a blur. You slept past your alarm and woke up after twelve, making you two hours late.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” you shout as you scrambled out of bed and tripped over a blanket. You throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from the University, your hair in a wild ponytail as you brush your teeth and high-tailed it out the door. You ran to class, forming an apology along the way, your heart beating out of your chest. You are met, however, with a closed door and a white paper plastered on the door:

NO CLASS TODAY. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND.

“Really?” You huffed, leaning against the wall. It’s not like you are late for class; your alarm was

set despite you being up late last night. But whatever, fuck it. You aren’t about to let this ruin your day.

The leaves flow softly with the wind as you walk back to your dorm, the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. All you can think about is tonight and what concert you are going to. Maybe it’s a huge concert, and that’s why he is picking you up early… or perhaps it’s a local indie band at a bar. Your mind runs with endless possibilities, excitement pumping through your veins. You aren’t a hopeless romantic or a love-at-first-sight kind of person, but something about this person makes you feel good… like you finally have someone who can relate to you on some level. Granted, you have only talked with him on the phone, but you have a gut feeling and are rarely wrong about these things. You finally return to your dorm and take a well-needed shower, washing and detangling your hair with much-needed privacy. Your dorm has shared showers; you usually take them when everyone is asleep at night. Fortunately, there were only a few people, allowing you to have time for yourself. You allow yourself to think of the water running down your body as him, his hands caressing your body, his lips maybe touching yours— “Is anyone in here?” You snap out of your daydream quickly, and the water turns cold right on queue. “Y-yeah?” “I am here to clean the showers,” a woman’s voice calls from the door. “O-okay, give me a second.” Cursing silently, you quickly step out and dry yourself, throwing on your robe and grabbing your shower caddy before exiting the bathroom. You are met by an older woman wearing a shirt representing your college and sweats, with cleaning supplies in tow. “You were in there for a while,” she remarks as she sets out the wet floor sign. Do you have a hot date tonight?” “Something like that,” you shrug. You walk back to your room, and to your surprise, Nikki is outside your door. “You’re early,” you remark, unlocking the door. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But we will need more than two hours to get yourself right.” “You act like I can’t dress myself,” you scoff. “I just wanted your company, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah? Mon ami, when was the last time you changed your makeup?” You open your mouth to rebuttal but close it immediately. You hate to say it, but Nikki’s right. It’s not like you are going anywhere besides school, the music store, and the pizzeria. “Exactly,” Nikki says, setting her stuff down on her bed. “I went and got you makeup close to your teint, just in case.” She pulls out brand-new makeup from Revlon from mascaras, concealers, powders, and assortments of lipsticks of my choosing. She also bought nail polishes, saying it was time to add some color to your life. As much as you want to roll your eyes at her, she is right. As harsh as Nikki seems sometimes, she has a big heart and always looks out for you when you least expect it. You know a thing or two about style, but she takes it to a whole different level and isn’t shy about giving advice on it. You appreciate her so much. Being honest with yourself, you are nervous as hell. You have had crushes before, but you have never been pursued like this, where someone likes you enough to ask you out formerly, even if it was via a note. This person cares about your mind or seems to. You aren’t sure how to feel; you want to be excited and have a good time, but you have a wall up for a reason. You don’t want to be disappointed again like your family has. You figured if the people you love the most can abandon you like that, there is no hope for you out there. You lived with that hard truth for a long time, and you were content with that. But god, this guy has you curious. “What’s on your mind?” Nikki finishes with your makeup and hair, gazing at you through the mirror. “Butterflies in my stomach are killing me,” you grimace. “I can’t believe I am even doing this.” “Oh, relax,” she blows a raspberry. “You always do this thing where you talk yourself out of things you deserve. Stop that. D'accord? “Yes, mother,” you tease. She sucks her teeth, and you get dressed, putting on the new clothes you bought and your black leather boots. Checking out your appearance, you are satisfied with your look, and Nikki gives you a thumbs up while she cleans up. Knock, Knock! You look at the door, the butterflies fluttering deeper in your stomach. You look in the mirror one last time as Nikki opens the door, a brief silence followed by a heart chuckle. “Mon ami, your date is here.”

You see him, and you're stunned. It dawns on you why he’s here, and you feel your heart drop all the way to your ass. This has to be some kind of joke. “Soonyoung? What are you doing here?” He walks more into your view, wearing a grey jean jacket with matching pants. His right hand is in his pocket, and he has a small bouquet of irises in his other hand. “I’m here to take you to the concert?” Nikki is behind him, trying to keep her composure and mask her giggles. Of all the people you thought would show up, Soonyoung was the LAST person on your mind. This is the person who was calling in every Friday and wanting to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “What happened?” you accost him. “Did you lose some bet, and you had to ask me out? Or do you feel bad for almost hitting me with your car?” “No?!” he scoffs, clearly offended. “I mean, yes, I feel bad about almost hitting, but no one dared me to do anything. Do you think I am that kind of person?” “Well, yes.” You wish you could take back what you said, but it was too late. You knew you hurt his feelings, the crestfallen look on his face saying it all. “This was a mistake,” he sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, I wasted your time.” He handed Nikki the flowers and walked away, the air feeling thick and awkward. You couldn’t even look at her in the eyes. You knew you fucked up. “Well, that was awkward,” you huff. “And shitty.” You raise an eyebrow at her, and she stares you down. You don’t want to feel worse than you already do, and Nikki isn’t helping. “Honestly, I think the guy was telling the truth,” Nikki surmises. “He looked like a sad puppy.” You think about this caller #17 guy who would call in every week and share his thoughts with you about everything, with you having to do very little. You think about how scared he felt about being his true, authentic self and how much courage it probably took to ask you out. You know you are a tough cookie to crack and understand better than anyone how it feels to go against the grain and be who you are. “I fucked up Nik,” you slump on your bed. “Yeah, you did.” God, you hate her bluntness sometimes, but she’s right. You need to go find him and make this right. “Do you think he’s still here?” you ask, sitting up and grabbing your purse. “He couldn’t have left that fast.” “Only way to find out is to get off your ass and find him,” she says, pulling your arm. “Go find your guy.” You both rush out of your dorm, jogging down the hallway and out of the building, looking for a silhouette of him. You were scared you missed him and felt defeated, not seeing any sight of him anywhere. Surveying the area one last time, you noticed a black Jeep peeling out of the parking lot. It stops at the stop sign, the second to last car to go. This is your only chance. “WAIT!”

You sprint towards the car, barely meeting him as he is about to turn.

“STOP,” you exhale, relieved that you caught him. “Don’t go.” Soonyoung steps out as you rest your hands on the hood of his car, trying to catch your breath. He touches your arm, his hands soft as silk, sending shocks throughout your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a good look at you.

“Aside from me about to pass out, I’m good.” You take a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and an asshole and—”

“MOVING YOUR FUCKING CAR!”

A middle-aged woman leans out of the window and gives you the bird, followed by a slew of car horns beeping in annoyance behind you and Soonyoung.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung curses, realizing the amount of cars behind him. “Get in the car.”

You both get in the car and drive off from the angry drivers, pulling into the nearest gas station. You sit with your hands in your lap, this weight of regret sitting on your chest and guilt eating you from the inside. You look at him, and he seems surprisingly relaxed as if you didn’t reject him

not even thirty minutes ago.

“I’m going to get some gas,” he announces. “Wait here.” 

You watch him walk inside to pay and let out the deepest, most agonizing sigh. He should be calling you every name in the book, and rightfully so, as you insulted him. Why is he being so nice? Does he really like you that much?

He returns a few minutes later, shoving his pockets with change left over, and you both lock eyes with each other. In another situation, you would’ve been able to appreciate his good looks, trendy clothes, and tiger-like appearance. But instead, you feel sick to your stomach, disappointed in how you acted. You look down, twiddling your thumbs until he finishes pumping his gas and returning to the car. This is not like you at all. “Hey,” he says. “Hi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry again. I feel like a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.” “I know you were intense, but Jesus Christ,” he exhaled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you? You made it seem like I lost a bet to ask you out. You made me feel like crap.” Every word felt like a punch in the gut, and you deserved it. Despite your parents' many flaws, they always taught you not to judge a book by its cover, and that’s precisely what you did. You were pretentious and stuck up about him. In some ways, you aren’t any different from them. “I guess…” your voice trails off. “I just saw you as the athlete that everyone is in love with. Your friends, I know the type, and we’ve never really crossed paths with each other unless I was bumping into you or almost getting hit by your car.” “So… you saw me as the very thing I told you I didn’t want to be seen as.” You didn’t have to answer back. You both knew the answer, and it was eating you up inside. “I’m sorry, I am just gonna go.” Before he could stop you, you exited the Jeep and started walking back toward your dorm. You are embarrassed and can never face him again. This is why you don’t don’t talk to anyone. This is awkward; it feels weird. You lose yourself in your thoughts until you reach the street light, waiting for your turn to go. The air is slightly chilly than usual, the smell of the ocean taking over your senses that you would enjoy any other time. Yeah, a walk to the beach sounds nice, you say to yourself just as the street signal turns green. You feel someone’s hand pulling you away, and you twirl around, facing Soonyoung’s back as he takes you back to his car.

“You’re dramatic as hell, you know that, right?” He shouts over his shoulder. “You didn’t even let me respond; you just hopped out like you were on the run.” 

You stayed silent. What more could you say? He was right. He opens the passenger side, letting you slide in and shutting the door behind you. A few seconds later, he is on your other side, turning on the ignition. 

“You not a terrible person,” he breathes. “A terrible person wouldn’t come sprinting out of their doom in boots and a nice outfit trying to apologize. You said you’re sorry, and it’s fine.” “Is it?” 

“I mean, I’ll get over it,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pulled you back here if I didn’t want to be around you. Now, do you still want to go back and forth about this, or do you want to make it up to me by going to this concert?” It’s a brief moment of silence as you seriously consider your options. You can tell Soonyoung is still bothered by what you did, but his small smile clarifies your decision. “Lead the way, tiger.”

He chuckles as he pulls out of the lot, pulling into a line of cars headed in the same direction. The sun starts to set, the golden hour hitting the horizon at the sea. You fold your arms, confused as to why he is being so nice to you, despite you being a bitch to him earlier. You haven’t felt forgiveness in a long time, which feels foreign. Uncomfortable. You hope this feeling will go away as the night goes on.

You mainly rode in silence aside from the music on the radio, and the hour trip to the venue seemed to be double that. You pull up to Bayfront Amphitheater, packed to the brim with people screaming their hearts out to the band onstage. Your heart skips in excitement, realizing what concert Soonyoung took you to. 

“The Foo Fighters?” you grin, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ve been wanting to see them forever.: “Yeah, I remember you were talking about it on the radio, so I figured why not,” his voice trails off. 

Your heart feels like it is going to burst at the seams. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, and you had the nerve to be a bitch to him earlier. 

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry again. I feel really shitty about it.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, let’s just enjoy this concert, and I’ll forget about it, okay?” You nod, walking towards the loud music. The rhythm of the drums and guitar blended together, hyping the crowd. You let Soonyoung lead the way, checking your tickets and guiding you to your seats. The crowd is thick, with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol flowing freely, and everyone is caught in their own zone. You wouldn’t say you are claustrophobic, but being packed like sardines isn’t your definition of a good time. Soonyoung notices your discomfort and grabs your hand, holding tight until he finds your assigned seats. You felt safe with him, a tiny spark in you that made you swoon. 

“Are you okay?” He shouts over the noise. “Do you want a beer or anything?” “Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head. 

The opening act finishes their set, the crowd politely cheering as the members walk off the stage. There is a small intermission, with people disbursing from their seats to grab drinks or making quick trips to the bathroom. You can feel Soonyoung looking at you, his eyes burning into the left side of your face. You lick your lips and pull strands of your hair to the back of your ear, a blatant attempt at flirting. 

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” You feel bold, turning your body towards him. “I might,” he purrs. “I have a beautiful, mysterious girl sitting beside me.”

“I’m not that mysterious. We’ve been talking for weeks.” ‘Yeah, in front of thousands of people on the radio. Now I have you all to myself, and I want to get to know the real you.”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Well, I’m always the same on and off air. You’ll see.” “I hope so.” He smiles at you, and gotta admit the man can flirt. Soonyoung is devastatingly handsome, and he’s quick with his words. It excites you. You like being around people you can banter with and not take shit personally. It takes a load off your shoulders, not having to hold yourself back every time. You just want to be you and be free. It feels like Soonyoung is chasing the same thing. 

“I wouldn’t have predicted you’d be into rock bands like the Foo Fighters. What made you want to go to their concert aside from me?”

“Well, you might be surprised to hear this, but I actually like the band,” he laughs. “I’ve been following them since their debut.”

“Really?” you say. “That’s cool.” “What?” Soonyoung leans closer, your shoulder barely touching his. “Do I not seem like the Foo Fighters type?” “Aht aht,” you playfully wave your finger at him. “I’m not getting tripped up on that question.” You fell into a rhythm of laughter that felt natural as if you had been doing this all your life. Despite your fuck up, he makes you feel cozy and open. The sun makes one final appearance, shining its glorious light on his beautiful, tanned skin. You can fully admit to yourself that he’s handsome as fuck, taking him all in before the sun dips below the horizon. “No, but seriously, I don’t seem like the type to be into them?” You pause before responding, being careful with your answer. “On the surface, no. But I am learning that there is more to a person than meets the eye.” There is a comfortable silence between you two, the sweet-smelling breeze keeping you at bay as you sit and enjoy each other’s company. You have so much you want to say but don’t simultaneously. You savor this tiny bit of peace with him. “I think I am gonna grab a drink,” Soonyoung gets up suddenly. “Do you want anything?” “Yeah, like a juice or something.” You watch him leave, checking out his ass as he stands in the concessions line. Nice and firm, definitely a football player’s ass. You look away before being caught, watching the crew prepare for the next act. You feel like a young girl who just realized you have a crush on a boy. You’re giddy inside, hypersensitive to everything around you and how you look. You hope he finds you as attractive as he says he does, or if not, keep up the lie a little longer. You’ve been dealt many disappointments in your life, and you can’t let this be one of them. 

“Here. I got you a lemonade.”

You gaze up at Soonyoung, carefully grabbing the cup from his hand. He has a cup of beer in the other, sipping before making a face. You laugh in your cup, tasting your sweet drink with some tart. You feel refreshed and a little bit alive, thanks to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the FOO FIGHTERS?”

The crowd erupts into a roar as the band joins the stage, getting their placements to perform. Jolts of electric excitement course throughout your body, screaming your heart out before the first string is played on the guitar. You’ve always wanted to see them in concert, being a huge fan of Nirvana and following Dave Grohl after. Despite everything, he seems like a rad guy, and

if you ever had the opportunity, you would want to pick his brain and jam out with him. “ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKERS READY?” Dave Grohl shouts into the mic. 

 You both scream as the first song is played, the drums scratching the excellent part of your brain while the guitars take you to another level. You look at Soonyoung, his attention on the band with his arms folded, in awe of the performance being given. He looks adorable, and all you can do is smile, satisfied that you are in this space and can experience this moment. The band keeps playing hit after hit, the energy around you making you want to levitate in the clouds. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. You reach the last song of the night, and the key changes, the guitars riffing into a song you know all too well. “I want everyone to sing this song with us— this is for the regular heroes out there.” 

You feel the emotion and intensity in Dave Grohl’s voice, making you emotional. The song is about the ordinary person and their potential; you wish your family saw your potential. You wish you could share your music with them and see you thrive in the elements you’re most comfortable in. But instead, you’ve been cast out, and as much as you worked hard to get over it, it hurts you deeply. “Are you okay?” Soonyoung looks at you wide-eyed; you’re unaware of the tears trickling down your face. All you want to do is be held and told everything will be okay. As if he read your mind, he holds your hand, his thumb rubbing your palm softly, keeping you anchored in your emotional storm. Nothing else needed to be said between you two; the song lyrics moved your spirit. Kudos, my hero

Leavin' all the mess

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

“Thank you for taking me to the concert. I had a really good time.”

You sit with Soonyoung in his car, sitting outside of your dorm. You talked about music all the

way back home, singling your hearts out to whatever is on the radio. Soonyoung is surprisingly a good singer, hitting some notes even better than you can. You wonder if he had any training. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you,” he grins. “Oh, please,” you wave him off. I’m the one who started us on the wrong foot.” “True. But I think you more than made up for it tonight.” “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.” 

“Why were you crying during the concert?” You knew this question would come eventually, but you still felt unprepared. You hadn’t really talked about your family life with anyone besides Nikki, but you were determined to keep it to yourself. But he makes you want to open up. “The song really hits me,” you point at your chest. “I feel every word and every percussion note as it plays. It reminds me of my mom and dad, and I wish they saw me as a normal person with their own aspirations rather than the person they want me to be. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soonyoung nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. 

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I just don’t see myself doing that. I fell in love with music and singing, and when I shared that I wanted to do songwriting full-time, they made me feel so low. Like I am stupid and naive for wanting a career, I would actually be happy.” You huff, wiping fresh tears off of your face. “I just wanted them to support me, but they couldn’t even do that. Aside from my grandparents, they cut me off completely.” “That’s not cool,” Soonyoung scoffs. “So they just went cold turkey and quit talking to you?” You nod, bitterly reliving the last conversation you had with them before you made no contact. “Why can’t our parents just let us live the lives we want? It’s like they want to live vicariously through us.” “Right?!” You exclaim. “See, you get it!”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he mumbled. You turn your body to look at him, studying his face and the possible thoughts he is having. You may see more eye to eye than you realize. ‘So, what’s your damage?” You poke at him. “It’s the same as yours,” he revealed. “They just want me to keep playing basketball so I can go into the big leagues and take care of everyone. I am essentially everyone’s meal ticket.” “Well, you don’t have to be,” you say. “You could just say fuck ‘em and live for yourself.” “Easier said than done,” he sighs. “I’m the first person in my family to attend college, and I actually like playing basketball. I believe in it, bleed it, all that… but whenever I am around my folks or friends, that’s all they want me to be about it. It’s like I’m not real. I am a person with complex interests and feelings, too.” 

“I know exactly what you mean, tiger.” 

You smile reassuringly; you understand that last sentence all too well. Your family would rather consider you the family fuck up, the black sheep, instead of understanding that you wanted different things. Why is that so fucking complicated? You stifle a yawn, looking at your watch and seeing how late it was.

“I really like talking to you and being around you,” Soonyoung confesses. I hope we can do it more.” “Yeah,” you gaze into his eyes. “ I would love that.” He walks you to your dorm, opens the doors, and holds your waist as you walk up the steps. His hands bring jitters and butterflies in your stomach that you hope you can experience more. You know you have a hard, cold exterior on the outside, but deep down, you want to feel love and adoration from someone. You hope Soonyoung can bring that. 

You never want this feeling to go away.

“Thank you for walking me in,” you say, unlocking the keys to your room. “I know I was being a bitch early, but thank you for showing me a good time anyway.” 

“It was worth it, seeing a smile on your face.” 

“Was it?” 

“Yeah,” he leans in closer. “I want to see it more.”

His lips touch yours, your chest bursting like fireworks as he deepens the kiss. Your arms rest on his shoulders, feeling natural and comfortable like a glove. He is gentle and kind, not doing too much but making you feel safe and like you can depend on him. It's crazy how one kiss can have you seeing your future. 

“We should do that more often,” you joke, leaving one last peck. He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “We will. I’ll make sure to do it more often.” 

“Okay,” you say, walking into your dorm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#3 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.

Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵

Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.

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Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.

Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.

He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.

The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.

The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.

That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.

Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.

“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”

Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.

“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”

“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.

“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”

“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.

“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.

“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.

“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”

“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”

“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.

“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.

“She’s coming.”

Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.

“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.

“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”

“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.

“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”

Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.

“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.

They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.

“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.

Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”

Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.

“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.

“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.

“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”

The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.

“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.

“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.

A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.

“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.

“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”

“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.

“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.

“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.

“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.

“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.

Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.

“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.

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Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.

He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.

The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?

He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.

“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”

“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.

“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”

“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.

“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.

“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.

“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.

“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.

“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.

“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.

“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.

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An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.

“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.

“I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.

“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”

She shrugs, taking the book back.

“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.

“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.

“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.

“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.

“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”

Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”

Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.

“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.

“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.

“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”

I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.

“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.

“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.

“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.

“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.

“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.

“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.

“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”

“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.

Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.

Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.

She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.

Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.

The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.

They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.

Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.

Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.

“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.

“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.

“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.

“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.

Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.

When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read—that she’ll love these books and so many more.

And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.

A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.

And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.

Tag List: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @little-missbookyworm

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Cafe Fare

You own a small café off base. Most of the time, you just see people hurrying through wanting a ready-made meal, a coffee, or energy drink. Then, a masked man stops in for lunch. Something fresh from the kitchen. He stops in the next day and the next. The fourth day, he drags along a flirtatious Scot who gets a head slap when the skull-faced man tires of him not ordering. They're gone the next few days, but then the skull man is back alone. The day after, the Scot, Soap, as he insists you call him, brings in another soldier. Gaz, he introduces himself as. All three men become regulars, typically dining apart when they have time. Then Gaz brings in The Captain. You never catch a name beyond that, but you quickly make another regular out of him.

It's only a few months later when a man nearly too big for the booths sits for lunch. A mask covers his face even more thoroughly than Ghost, the name you have finally wheedled out of your masked man. The others shoot glares at this new man, and he retreats behind a menu. When you take his order, you smile just as wide as you do for those regulars, and he seems to relax. Especially when you call him Sugar, Dear or Honey. Those remnants of your American upbringing always seem to disarm even your big tough SAS regulars, and the Austrian is no different.

The other men try to warn you off of König and you tell them this is a no conflict zone. You're a civilian, and this is a café, not the barracks. They bite back protests, agreeing to keep the peace for your sake. As a concession, you try to always seat them away from each other, preferably so they can't see the other table at all.

Time goes on, and the café gets busier and busier. You have to hire more people to keep up. It seems that your regulars have brought in a whole wave of soldiers who want to try the food that is better than any chow hall on base and always treats them with a little love. Civilians pour in, too, as you get consistent five-star reviews.

One day, you have two full tables and then some of KorTac and 141 men, as they seem to refer to their separate factions. The rest of the cafe is packed full as well, and yet again, a young officer is demanding that you serve him first instead of the enlisted men at other tables. He oozes self-importance, and it makes you want to gag. Putting on your customer service persona, you tell him that rank doesn't matter here. He will be served when his food is ready and not a moment sooner. He stands, towering over you and gets in your face, yelling about teaching you your place and obeying orders. You cock an eyebrow, ready to fire back when a wall, no two walls of flesh are suddenly between you and him. König and Ghost stand shoulder to shoulder glaring down at the man. They begin to argue over who should be allowed to deal with him.

"He's an officer in my military. He's mine," Ghost growls.

"But we are off base in the civilian world. That makes him mine." König's higher pitched voice sounds just as deadly scary. They go back and forth for a minute or two before you tap them both on the back.

"Luv?"

"Liebling?"

You hide a grin as they both use the same term of endearment. "Why not compromise and do both? König, you handle it now in public, and Ghost, you handle it on base after whatever complaints roll in as an officer. Because I bet there will be complaints." They think for just a moment before nodding at each other. Ghost wraps an arm around your waist and guides you over to the counter where food is waiting to be dropped off. Meanwhile, König is giving the ass chewing of a lifetime to the officer who has nearly pissed himself by this point. When König finishes, the officer runs out the door, and you can guess you will never see him again.

You give both men their meals on the house despite their protests.

"Next time, you can pay me then. It's not like that was the first, and it won't likely be the last time that happens." The men mull over your words, and you miss their exchanged look. You don't know it now, but you have fundamentally changed the dynamics on base. KorTac and the 141 cooperate on and off the field, realizing that working together is far more entertaining and satisfying than constantly arguing. The Captain gifts you a bottle of top shelf bourbon that Christmas in thanks.

Ghost and König are not best friends, but more often than not, the two teams now eat together, prompting you to reserve a table for them at lunch every day. The number fluctuates, but König and Ghost are there every chance they get. When one or both are down range, as they call it, you miss them fiercely. When they return, you always excitedly hug them to welcome them back home. At first, they had frozen under your hugs, but when you greeted them and only them with a hug, Ghost and König felt themselves hugging you back possessively. Soap and Gaz loved to complain about their lack of hugs, but you notice they never even try to initiate one, and a glare from Ghost has them shutting up.

It's been nearly three years since Ghost first tried your food, when you see them loitering around near close, looking nervous. You've never seen these men nervous, and it has you on edge. You hurriedly work through your closing duties, locking the doors and pulling the blinds shut before sitting heavily across from them.

"What's wrong?" Your question seems to surprise them. "You two are more nervous than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." They break out in laughter, much of the tension bleeding away.

"Luv, what the 'ell kind of sayin is that?"

"A good one, now spill." They sober up, and you see them exchange a look.

"We.. fuckin Hell. How do I word this?" Ghost's nervousness is back already. You've never heard his voice waver before.

"We want to court you. Both of us, if you're interested. We have fallen for you." König reaches a hand out as he speaks, lacing his fingers with yours. You are too stunned to speak for a moment but squeeze his hand.

"Umm... I was not expecting... what I mean is... yes?" You clear your throat. "Yes, I would like that." They seem almost as surprised at your answer as you were at the implied question. You stand and walk around the table, resting a hand on each of their shoulders when they go to stand. "Can I kiss you? I've wanted to kiss you both for a ridiculously long time." You are blushing deeply but determined to push past it.

Ghost tugs you into his lap and tugs his mask up, kissing you deeply. You feel him smile against your lips when you moan quietly and wrap your arms around his neck. After a few moments, he pulls away and passes you over to König's lap. You smile up at him in a bit of a daze but reach up slowly to lift his mask above his lips. He leans down while lifting you up a bit. Kissing him is different, but just as satisfying. He nips at your lower lip, making you gasp into him. He plunges his tongue into your mouth, holding you tight against his chest and groping your ass. When you finally pull away, your eyes are lidded, and all you can think about is doing more. So you do. It's a few hours later, after more than a couple rounds with them, that you teasingly ask if this is how courting is supposed to work. They stumble over their words, but your cheeky grin has them promising revenge soon.

That Christmas, you attend the joint KorTac and 141 holiday party with your men fussing over your every step. When The Captain tries to give you another bottle of bourbon, you pass it over to Ghost politely. He huffs, complaining that the bottle he gets is never this good. You roll your eyes and pass the Captain a box. When he opens it, he freezes, just looking. Soap, the nosy bugger tries to see what it is, and The Captain slams the box shut. His eyes bore into you while you giggle at him. He grabs for the bottle, but Ghost pulls away, having anticipated the move.

"What is going on, Captain? You get a gag gift?" Gaz teases him, knowing that you would never give a bad enough gift to prompt such an action.

"No! I gave a bad gift! I need to exchange it!" He cautiously opens the box again, seemingly to confirm what he saw.

"Captain, just hold it up already." Ghost is a bit impatient to get this over with now, and you rub a hand down his back. The Captain pulls out a small piece of fabric and holds it up. A onesie, well two onesies, he realizes. They read "My Grandpa goes by Captain"

"Two onesies? Did ye gettae discount for buying an extra?" Soap's voice booms with laughter.

Ghost pauses a second, wanting to time it perfectly. "We bought two for the same reason they issue me and you separate uniforms, idiot." Soap chokes on his drink, coughing while trying to talk. The room is silent for a moment before cheering excitedly, congratulating all three of you. Your men don't stop smiling all night, not even when they carry your sleeping form to bed after falling asleep on the couch at the party, curled up like a cat in König's lap.

[relatableblorbopoll]

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 11

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

Propaganda under the cut

Mae Borowski (Night in the Woods)

"Spoilers! She's a college dropout in her early twenties, who suffers from untreated mental illness and dissociation and had a complete breakdown at college, causing her to come home. Now she's living with her parents again, but life in her dingy little hometown went on without her. Her friends are adults now - in a relationship and planning on moving to the big city, or having to waste away in a dead end job instead of following their dreams. Mae is the only one without a new adult role in life. She's not great with people either - she's blunt and often doesn't think things through, and in many ways just doesn't get the world of adults. She's also prone to petty crimes and general anarchy. She's kind of lost and purposeless, and trying to find meaning in life by desperately clinging to the past. Her decision to drop out of college probably saved her life, but it's also put her family in a tough financial situation and is viewed by most people as her just thoughtlessly doing whatever she wants. She's also kind of shamed a lot about not having a job or other productive role in life, despite the fact that her untreated mental issues are actually disabling for her. She also plays the bass real bad. Anyway, i love Mae a lot. Playing this game as a college dropout in my early twenties, sitting in my childhood bedroom in my mom's attic, back in my dingy little hometown, desperately missing my old friends who have all moved on to better, resposible things in life... yeah, it felt like the game was pointing dead at me. Given tumblr's general demographic, i figure i must not be completely alone in this"

Shigeo Kageyama / Mob (Mob Psycho 100)

"autistic. likes milk. if we reach a certain level of emotion we turn into a psychic bomb. cool brothers :)"

Barry the Quokka (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog)

"Their only skill is working the microwave, they're non-binary, when seeing a trash bin their first instinct is to look through it, they're always the most normal person in the room, they can beatbox, and they were only hired due to being the only one who applied."

Kaveh (Genshin Impact)

"In a fantasy world, be a guy with a regular profession losing his goddamn mind. Poor guy has a guilt complex, (so true) and a lot of deep embarrassment regarding his life.(ehe) He just wants to do what he's passionate about but capitalism is evil and also he keeps getting scammed. Claims to not want anyone to know Things, goes into depth about these Things anyway. Is probably most definitely gay. Can be found face down on a table lamenting his fate. Terrible sleep schedule. (HA) He is such a guy. Wants to believe the world is a good place and people are inherently good. And wants to help people and do good himself. It's just hard. [And he has a roommate. Oh my god he has a roommate]"

"He was, and still is, regarded a genius. He aced his Akademiya days, he has the admiration and appreciation of so many people because he is oh-so remarkable. But what for, when reality is that he sits at home depressed and with guilt consuming him, faking the image people have of him, not only broke as fuck but actually in debt, drowning his sorrows in wine."

Yusuke Kitagawa (Persona 5)

"highschooler who wants to spend the rest of his life doing what he loves. is obsessed with art and beauty and it's on his mind 24/7 received help from his now friendgroup to break from his abusive foster father who he still have complicated feelings with had to move into school dorms and am struggling to live independantly since he'd rather spend money and time on his art but he's still surviving and enjoying the good times id say also ends up saying whatever is on his mind and is pretty eccentric. very passionate about what he loves. doesn't want to do anything else."

Nanami Kento (Jujutsu Kaisen)

"Ex-salaryman, now jujutsu sorcerer. During one life-and-death fight, kept talking about how it was almost six pm with is when he is getting off work at 6pm no matter what because he hates overtime. While his opponent repeatedly almost kills him. Normalest adult in this shonen anime. Teen MC: "Let's go all out!" Nanami: "No. Where moderate effort will suffice, use moderate effort." Some of his quotes from the anime: "I studied at Jujutsu Tech and one thing I learned is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are shit! Then I worked at your typical company and one thing I learned is that work is shit! If both are equally shit I'll take the one I'm more suited to." "You've faced several life-or-death situations, but that does not make you an adult. Finding more fallen-out hairs on your pillow, watching your favourite stuffed bread disappear from the convenience store... The accunulation of these little despairs is what makes a person an adult." "I don't praise or disparage anyone. I adhere to facts and judge on that basis. That's who I am. There was a time when I mistakenly believed society operated the same way." "

[misssmina]

Characterizing Characters

Bakugou Katsuki.

I’ll be using the source material to create a simple list of traits he has already, then based on those traits, things we can infer about him based on those behaviors.

SourceMaterial!Bakugou is a hothead, we know this. However, at UA, his anger is almost never unreasonable. He is regularly the butt of his classmates jokes and teasing, which makes him argumentative. Outside of that he is just a very competitive teen with a grumpy disposition. He is pre-irritated.

SourceMaterial!Bakugou is rarely malicious in his words. Most things he says seemingly comes from a place of indifference. (Calling people extras, taking a long time to learn names and quirks, etc.)

SM!Bakugou is a goody two-shoes, despite his mouth. He sleeps early, studies hard, has been seen yelling at his classmates about making sure to eating well.

SM!Bakugou is socially awkward. He doesn’t just struggle with being nice, he struggles with being appropriate in general.

SM!Bakugou has great deductive reasoning skills. It helps in battle as well as him learning about interpersonal relationships.

SM!Bakugou is half decent with kids, he makes a point of analyzing and understanding their behavior to relate to them.

SM!Bakugou is a tough love kind of guy, but he actively acknowledges his classmates strengths.

SM!Bakugou has mission anxiety from both times he was held hostage.

SM!Bakugo regularly pushes his physical limits, regardless of injury or wellbeing.

Now we can make some inferences based on the information we have already.

ProHero!Bakugou found better outlets for his anger. MMA, quirk ranges, general exercise, etc.

ProHero!Bakugou still hates the press, but has learned how to conduct himself professionally. His interviews give the same cold feel as Aizawa’s.

ProHero!Bakugou would hold youth self-defense classes featuring different heroes, to prevent incidents like the sludge villain from happening again.

ProHero!Bakugou would take on many mentees and sidekicks. Feeling he’d be the best person to whip them into heroes.

ProHero!Bakugou would not give lots of verbal praise to his mentees and sidekicks. He’d just give them more responsibilities as the are able to handle them.

ProHero!Bakugou would have similar scaring to ProHero!Sero. Scars from injury and muscle damage would be most prominent on his shoulders, biceps, and forearms.

ProHero!Bakugou would work very closely with ProHero!Kirishima, ProHero!Jirou, and ProHero!Uraraka. Relying on their skills in combat, reconnaissance, and rescue, respectively.

Now, some personal headcannons I have. 💥

Bakugou rolls his eyes, A LOT. Mainly to keep himself from saying something out of pocket.

He cracks his wrists a lot, and his fingers are always sore.

He is a momma’s boy, but he’s an easier child for his father.

Bakugou is a polyglot.

Bakugou wouldn’t date another hero, but not a regular civilian either. Maybe someone in the medical field?

Bakugou has cuteness aggression with animals and his friends think it’s hilarious.

He takes Yaoyorozu with him to events because, “She’s the only one with any sense around here.”

Bakugou has gotten in trouble for modifying and tinkering with his gauntlets without approval.

Let me know who I should do next. I may do a secondary post the further I get into rewatching the show.

[sc0tters]

Birthday Do Over | Quinn Hughes

summary: it’s Quinn’s birthday and you can’t held but fuel your need to see him.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing?

word count: 1.53k

authors note: I wasn’t going to write this but when the request came in and it being Quinn’s birthday the opportunity was too great to pass up. Kaylin if you see that I used your answers to my cake questions, surprise? This piece is a lot of flashbacks people so pay attention to the regular italics!

You knew you shouldn’t have been doing this.

But as the three red bulls in your system kept you up you couldn’t help it as you stood in the kitchen baking.

October 14th, Quinn’s birthday and his first since you two were no longer talking.

Surely you should have been fine staying at home enjoying the comfort of your bed but instead you were in the bakery.

Quinn watched you start your dream as you bought the bakery but he never got to watch you fully live out the dream as you two broke up before it opened.

So the cake you made was from your memories of what he liked eating at late hours of the night in your apartment.

Bowls of different icing flavours were in a line “why can’t I try it yet? Quinn complained watching your hand swat his away “because I’m not ready so you need to wait.” You explained in a duh tone.

Over the last week you had been building a menu that had each of your favourite flavours that you had made throughout the years, as well as some new ones and those were what he was meant to try.

Quinn let out a huff causing you to smile “shut your eyes.” You brought your spoon into one of the bowls as the boy listened to you.

His eyes screwed shut as his mouth hung open “let me know what you think of when you taste this.” The spoon dropped a bit of icing onto his tongue causing him to close his mouth.

The sweet flavours melted into his tongue as he moved his arms getting excited “that was delicious.” Quinn announced as he opened his eyes to look at you again.

It made you laugh “that isn’t a flavour,” you shook your head as you sent him a look waiting for an answer “give me a hint baby.” The hockey player pouted as he reached over the counter to bring you to him.

His hands wrapped around your waist as you stood between his legs “it’s this one.” You brought the bowl to his nose but he still couldn’t get it “it’s my take on cream cheese-” the gasp Quinn let out made him sound like a child who just learnt Santa wasn’t real.

You smiled shaking your head “it was cheese!” The American grabbed a spoon again so that he could taste it again.

It was clear that the dials in his brain were turning as he came to terms with it “you make cheese good.” His words made you laugh “you give me too much credit.” You corrected him placing the bowl back on the table.

Quinn brought his hands from your waist to your jaw “don’t think I give you enough at all.” He mumbled running his hand over that bone as you leaned down to kiss him.

Both of you got sucked into it as the world felt like it stopped around you.

But it didn’t and the smoke alarm started going off “shit!” You groaned quickly pulling away from him.

As you whipped your icing you smiled remembering that night in the apartment that you now moved out of with the extra cash you had been making you were able to use to get more space.

It was another reminder of a milestone that Quinn missed yet still it wasn’t out of his own choice.

Part of you should have felt sorry for his neighbours as you two argued for what felt like the twentieth day in a row.

Your hand raked through your messy hair as you tried to remain calm “maybe I should go.” You shrugged avoiding Quinn’s irritated scoff “you always leave when things get fucking tough y/n!” He complained totally unaware of how much smaller you got in that moment.

If you chewed at your cheek any harder you would have drawn blood “look Quinn I love you.” You blurted out as you dug your nails into your palm “but this isn’t working anymore.” The hockey player was your world, that’s what happens when you date someone for three years.

But the reality that the arguments were now outweighing the normal conversations that you two had was weighing on you and the t was no longer at a point where you could act like it wasn’t around anymore “what are you trying to say?” The American knew what you were trying to say but he prayed that this was one time that he was so wrong.

Tears formed in your eyes “this is goodbye Q,” you frowned walking over to him as you pressed your lips against his cheek.

Before Quinn could process that you had left him the door to his apartment shut with a slam.

You were gone.

The final touches always scared you the most. It was like the moments when you screwed here were the ones where you wanted to cry.

Which was why you did a happy dance as Quinn’s birthday message was written out perfectly “perfect!” You smiled placing the piping bag on the table.

Below you sat absolute cake of his dreams, the red velvet cake and cream cheese frosting were complimented by the blue, green and white icing colours that you used.

The gold edible topper balls were for how you saw Quinn. Your shining star that could guide you anywhere.

If you had to find Quinn as a cake you would be looking right at it.

The boy grew impatient as he watched you work “this is an art Quinn.” You explained joy giving him the chance to complain “you put too much pressure on yourself.” You had been tasked with making a cake for Luke’s birthday and you weren’t going to screw this up.

You sent him a look trying to tell him to shut up “I’m trying to make this perfect.” You spoke in a duh tone as you were working on making the icing the perfect shade of red “you could give Luke cake batter and he’d love you.” Quinn’s voice made you laugh as you shook your head.

Luke was definitely the easiest man to impress.

You prayed that Quinn still lived in the same apartment that he was in before the summer. Fears that someone new occupied his home were greater than the ones you held about the ideas of him moving on.

As the sun had barely came over Vancouver you were just grateful that the doorman of the building recognised you because you would have been waiting for hours without him.

It was quiet in the building though as once you stepped into the elevator you hadn’t seen another person. Which is why you thought you were successful in getting to Quinn’s front door unnoticed.

But of course the universe wasn’t going to make your life that straight forward so as you placed the box on his doormat a laugh let you know that you were no longer alone.

Quinn leaned against the wall as he pulled his headphones out of his ears “you’re up early.” He smirked remembering how he could never get you out of bed early.

His bed was warm, and that was your excuse “Quinn!” You groaned reaching out to feel him no longer there “yeah baby?” He smiled seeing your eyes barely open.

Your pout was clear “come back to bed.” You tapped his side of the mattress “I’ve got to get to the rink.” The hockey player sat on your bed next to you as you let your head rest on your pillow once more.

He watched as your breathing slowed once more signalling that you were asleep “I’ll see you soon love.” The boy leaned over to press a kiss to your temple before he quietly tucked you into the duvet letting you bask in the comfort of his beds warmth.

You awkwardly picked the box up “I came to drop this off for you.” You explained turning to show him what you were holding.

Being a hockey player a cake wasn’t something you got in the middle of the season “thank you y/n.” He smiled seeing your cheeks turn red “I should get going.” You sucked at your teeth as you sent him a nod trying to move past him.

Quinn knew that he couldn’t let you leave again “wait,” the hockey player sighed feeling his shoulders grow lighter.

Your nod made him smile “you want to come inside?” Quinn’s offer made him feel nervous as you stayed quiet “I won’t be able to eat this cake by myself and if I get Brock over I won’t get any-” he began to ramble before you cut him off.

The giggle you let out made him go quiet “you know I’ll never say no to cake.” Your confession made him nod as he opened his door “it’s about time we caught up.” The door shut behind you both but this time it wasn’t the end of a chapter.

No this was the start of your second chance, the redo if you will. And this time you two were going to make sure that you didn’t screw it up.

This time was going to count.

[kaiser1ns]

𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗶 𝘀𝗲𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: your vampire boyfriend is hungry for human blood, so you let him have yours.

╹contents :: fem!reader, fluff, vampire nagi is the only correct answer, maybe this is going to be miniseries with vampire boyfriend nagi who knows

╹notes :: nagi with the new theme, also sorry for the inactivity, i will try to post when I have more free time ! anyway hope you enjoy <3

Nagi had been feeling exhausted lately, his fangs aching and his eyes constantly drawn to the pulsing veins of the humans around him. He tried his best to have self-control and to resist the urge to feed on them, but it was becoming tough for the vampire boy when the sweet aroma of blood was perking on every corner.

His girlfriend, Y/N, had noticed the change in his behavior; he stayed quieter than usual, but when it was nighttime and they were outside, he started drooling at the sight of so many people, so much prey. And she knew better than anyone that he was hungry for human blood and not animal blood from the plastic packet he gets on a regular basis.

One night, as they cuddled on the couch watching a movie, Nagi's hunger became too much to bear. "Y/N, I can't take it anymore," he whispered, his breath on her neck as she got goosebumps. "I need blood, human blood."

She hesitated for a moment, knowing the risks of allowing a vampire to feed from her, but she loved him so much that she could risk her own health just for him to be fed well.

"Sei" she said softly, turning to look at him. "You can feed from me. Just be careful, please"

His eyes lit up as he sank his fangs into Y/N's neck, and she let out a slight groan from the sudden pain. His hand held her head to be in a more comfortable position for him to feed, and the other warped around her waist to keep her in place. The sensation was overwhelming, and he drank deeply, savoring the taste of her blood. Sweet, it was so sweet that he couldn't get enough, it was the best human blood he had tasted in so long, but he had to stop eventually. When Seishiro was done, he pulled away, licking his lips and looking directly into her eyes with so much adoration "Thank you," he said, his hunger finally sated. "You're the best girlfriend ever."

“Everything for you, Sei” she said, kissing him on the cheek and, wiping the rest of the blood from his mouth. “Now how am I supposed to cover the two big dots you left on my neck?”

Uh oh, he hadn't thought about it “I can make more bites, tell people it was a very big mosquito” and with that, he earned to be met with a pillow in his face “Yeah, a 190 cm tall mosquito with white hair and fangs, they will definitely believe me.”

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