#sunshine!reader

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[ellatehe]

loverboy

pairing - rafe cameron x sunshine!kook!reader

warning - fluff

rafe cameron was always known for his fiery temper and reckless behavior. he'd been raised under the heavy expectations of his father, and it had shaped him into someone who was always on edge, always fighting. but everything changed the day he met you.

it was at the country club, when you were having lunch with your grandmother. rafe, on the other hand, was fooling around with topper and kelce, as usual, caught in their antics. that's when he first saw you, sitting in the sun, wearing a simple yellow dress that seemed to glow against the afternoon beams. it wasn't just your dress that caught his attention, it was your presence; warm, radiant, effortlessly calm.

when you crossed paths before you left, rafe was caught off guard, his usual confidence faltered. he had planned to say something smooth or clever, but all that came out was a breathy, "hey."

"hey," you replied with a polite smile, "do you need anything?"

without thinking, rafe blurted, "you're beautiful."

flustered, you smiled a little wider, feeling warmth spread in your cheeks. "thank you so much," you replied, your smile brighter than before.

the conversation bloomed, and in that moment, rafe knew he had to see you again. he asked for your number, and from that moment on, you two were inseparable.

the more time you spent together, from movie nights to beach days, the more rafe changed. he found himself less angry all the time, lost in the weight of his families expectations. instead, he found peace in your presence. you became the calm to his storm, the sunshine in his darkest days. you gave him a reason to smile again, a reason to believe there was more to life than chaos and frustration.

for your one month anniversary, rafe did something special. he drove to your grandmothers house, holding a bouquet of yellow roses, your favorite. afterward, you two sailed on the marsh, basking in sunlight and laughter.

rafe had always felt like he was drifting, like there was no purpose to life beyond his father's demands. but with you, he felt grounded. he found meaning in your smile, in the sound of your laughter, in the way you made him feel like he mattered. and that, he realized, was all he needed; to make you happy.

[januaryembrs]

SWEET AND RIGHT AND MERCIFUL | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says: OMGGGG EM CONGRATS ON 3K !!! soooo deserved and i’m so so happy for you!!! please may i request tea for sunshine!reader 🥹🩷 maybe the moment when she realises just how much she likes him (perhaps she was in heavy denial beforehand)? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOUUUUU 🩷🩷🩷

description: The Sunshine rookie Spencer had heard so much about is the first one to make him laugh since he got out of prison.

length: 4.1k

warnings: Lucky Strikes episode, talks of humans eating humans, cm gore, blood, violence etc. UnSub gets creepy with reader. sex jokes, spitting water.

author's note: dedicated to @avis-writeshq because she is my GIRL when it comes to Spencer Reid x Sunshine brain rot, and also because she requested a Drabble for them but I couldn't stop writing and here we are with a full ficlet.

It had been three weeks, three painfully long weeks since Spencer Reid had returned to the BAU, nearly ten years since she’d seen him lecturing at Pennsylvania. He looked different, but then Emily had said quite literally on her second day that their endgame was getting him out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and it seemed only natural that being a fed in a foreign jail would knock someone around. 

She’d been too nervous to speak to him on their first day working together, had stuck to Luke’s side like glue because he was closest in age to her and he didn’t seem to mind the way she could speak a hundred miles per hour. They had only really had any contact when she was chatting with Garcia in the kitchenette at lunch, when she was talking to the tech whizz about the crochet set she’d bought even though she couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the way everything bobbed and weaved and bobbed again, and how the woman on youtube seemed to make the tiny bumblebee seem so achievable while hers looked like a yellow turd. 

He’d come up behind the two of them, his footsteps deadly silent despite the fact he had sneakers on, and she wouldn’t have even known he was there had Penelope not lit up with glee at seeing Reid poking around their office again. 

“Coffee, honey?” Penelope asked, looking over the girl’s shoulder, and it was only when he murmured a ‘mhm’ that the rookie noticed he’d crept up behind her, leaning over to grab his mug from the cupboard, and she hopped to the side immediately. 

“S-sorry, just shove me out the way next time, my mom says I have zero spacial awareness.” She said with a nervous laugh, and he didn’t seem to care as he granted her a small glance, pushing the button on the coffee machine and clunking his mug beneath the tap. 

“Have you met our newbie, Spence?” Penelope asked, friendly as ever even though the women caught the way his jaw seemed to feather with clenched muscle, like he was holding himself back from snapping, and his eyes were tired as he looked over at Garcia, barely flicking his gaze to the new face despite her prompt, “This is Y/N, she’s joined us from cold cases,” 

“Hi,” The woman chirped with a quick wave, despite the fact he was stood only a foot away from her, “It’s nice to meet you after everyone’s spoken so highly about you, Penny said you like invented the term genius,”

Spencer pursed his lips, trying not to make a backhanded comment about how dumb that sounded because of course he didn’t invent it, of course it was coined in the mid seventeenth century from the latin gignere to mean ‘exceptional natural ability’, and the last time he checked he wasn’t even born then. But he stopped himself, because she was just being nice, and it wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t been sleeping or that he couldn’t eat dinner without waiting to hear a buzzer go off to let him know when it was meal time, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she was just a few decibels too loud with her cheerful tone and smile that he could hear in every syllable. 

So he just gave her an awkward smile, and an acknowledging nod, the whir of effort from the coffee machine slowing down as his drink finished pouring, and he grabbed his mug, not even caring that the ceramic scolded his fingertips because he’d felt so much worse before and gotten through it. 

“I’ll catch up with you later,” He said coldly, not returning the sentiment, and he’d turned before he could see the way her smile dropped, her brows creasing in worry as she watched him head back towards his desk.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked with a small voice, and Penelope wrapped an arm around her shoulder giving her a kind squeeze and a sad smile. 

“It’s not you, sweetie, he’s just-” Garcia swallowed, her own pout growing over her red painted lips, “He’s not like the Reid we used to know, he’s struggling,” 

And so she nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek with a frown. It felt silly to have her feelings hurt, except she’d been thinking about the day two agents from the BAU came to give her sociology class a talk on geographical and societal factors compelling crime, how she’d headed straight to her tutor that evening to swap her major to criminology. Because she’d hung on every word Agent Hotchner and Agent Reid had said, which definitely had nothing to do with the fact the younger of the two was so dreamy in his glasses and tweed jacket. 

She’d been excited to meet him again after nearly ten years, maybe even thank him for changing the trajectory of her entire life. He was still handsome, and despite the fact she’d grown up since then, had only thought about him as that hot guy who gave a lecture in her class that one time, she still had felt that silly fluttering feeling in her chest the second she saw him talking with Emily in her office the morning he got back. 

And he’d look at her like she was a girl scout selling cookies; a passing face, a summer temp, no one worth getting to know.

She pretended like she wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed, he’d been to prison for god sake. The guy had bigger problems than a little nobody girl from another department.

Things weren’t much better the day they got the case.

“You might want to cover your eyes for this bit, my little sugar plum,” Penelope said, looking at the rookie with soft eyes, and Emily smiled at her gently, knowing the girl had a bit of an innocent streak, not completely unlike Penny when she’d started the job. 

“Why? I’m sure it’s nothing-” She cut herself off when Penelope clicked onto the next page, and the image of a woman who could only be described as utterly butchered flicked onto the screen in full size, “Oh,” 

“Oh, indeed, rookie,” Rossi said with a wince, looking at the mulch of blood and muscle where her legs had been removed, and her fingers severed clean off as if with a carving knife. 

Luke looked up at the girl, where she’d gone a little peaky, and he patted her back gently, sliding his bottle of water over to her without a word. 

“All the telltale signs are here,” JJ said on a sighed breath, images of the rest of the crime scene flicking up on the screen.

“Pentagram, legs and fingers gone,” Rossi agreed, Luke and Matt looking between the team with a questioning glance, as she downed a sip of the water. 

“There’s even one neat aspect right here,” Emily said, the tip of her finger pointing to one of the pictures of the floor outside the bathroom stall where the body was found, “Her earrings and jewellery are laid out equidistant on the floor,”

“Sure as hell looks like him,” Rossi said, and she cleared her throat, looking to the older man on her left. 

“Like who?” She asked, her eyes snapping to Spencer who opened his mouth to speak, which seemed to be the only time he ever did bother making conversation; when there was a body on their hands.

“Floyd Feylnn Ferrell,” He said, as if the original case had only been wrapped up last week, but then with his memory she wasn’t exactly surprised, “A psychotic cannibal who’d been killing under the radar for years,”

“He killed ten prostitutes and then moved up to low risk victims,” Prentiss added, the rookie’s eyes wide. It wasn’t anything she’d never heard of, but it never made it easier knowing something even worse was coming after the murders. 

“He kept slipping through the cracks and avoiding justice so people referred to him as ‘Lucky’” JJ said, her eyes darting over the crime scene photos that seemed to take her back ten years to when they’d seen almost an identical set of photos, like Hotch was about to call ‘Wheels up in twenty’ any minute now.

Rossi sighed, looking at the younger girl who watched him wide eyed, “Have you eaten today, rookie?”

She shook her head dumbly, “Why?”

“Because the worst of it was he owned a barbeque joint,” Her face dropped even more, if that was even possible, “And he fed one of the victims to the search party,”

Her hand flew to her mouth, blinking at the seasoned agent in terror, because that was something she hadn’t ever thought would enter someone’s mind until she heard it. As simple as it sounded, for someone who had seen cases going back twenty, thirty years, some particularly heinous in nature, there were new lengths she didn’t realise a human could ever go to, let alone would.

Penelope stopped, shutting her laptop lid and glancing at JJ in a plea for help, as the thought of what had happened after the Ferrell case rushed to the front of her mind, when the guy she’d thought wanted to take her out on a date shot her. 

“I have a computer…” The blonde trailed off, heading for the door to the office room with a dazed look in her eyes, and the rookie watched her leave, her neck and palms clammy as she thought about what Rossi had just said. 

“I think I have a computer too-” She rushed, and she bolted from her seat before she could think of anything else, dashing after the technical analyst because she feared she was going to throw up if she didn’t get a breath of fresh air. 

Spencer watched her hair swish as she scurried out the room, and he wondered how long she would last if she couldn’t stomach just a few photos. He had struggled with the gore at first, sure, but he’d never ran. Maybe he was being cruel, but he couldn’t say that a girl like her exactly fit the part of an FBI agent, she seemed… pure, like driven snow, and if anything he’d hate for the bloodied parts of their job to stain a girl so squeaky clean.

Emily nudged his shoulder, nodding towards her retreating figure when he looked up at her questioningly, “You keep an eye on her in this case. She’s still learning,” 

And Spencer grit his teeth, because he hated the idea of babysitting when he had a dozen of his own problems, but he nodded indignantly. 

He just hoped she didn’t make things too hard for him. 

–

The door swung open behind Ferrell, the UnSub’s sister, the midday Florida heat boring down on her back, Spencer bristling at her right as Luke pocketed his badge. 

And then there he was. The guy from the photo, his thick, wiry glasses exact matches to the ones he’d been wearing the day he got caught, though she supposed a mental facility didn’t exactly have funds for replacements. 

“It’s no problem, Lori, I’ll speak with them,” His voice was a strong southern twang, and almost chillingly calm. His sister looked over her shoulder at him, the woman fretful as she glanced between the four agents, ten years of troubles on her shoulders. She sighed, running a hand over her neck nervously and headed back inside to be with her son, leaving them alone with their suspect on the doorstep, “You’ll have to wait, I’m on my way to church. It’s right around the corner so I’m within the thousand permitted yards from the monitoring station,”

He quickly glanced at where Matt and Luke stood behind her, the former with his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed up the thin, twiggly guy who looked like the type to live in his mother’s basement until he died, not the type to cannibalise and murder. 

His eyes darted over to where Reid towered over him, familiarity flicking in his face as he looked at the agent, and he smiled slowly, like something out of a horror, the uncanny valley of a face so normal when she knew he was so sick somewhat terrifying to her. He fed one of the victims to the search party. She heard it rattling around her skull as she saw the whites of his teeth, and she imagined him ripping into her then and there, her hands shaking.  

“Hey, I remember you. Where’s your friend, Agent Morgan?” Floyd said, and she felt Spencer tense up beside her, which she guessed meant it was a sore subject as she jumped into the conversation, her lips moving before she could think better of it. She’d always had a habit of talking too much when she was nervous, or to fill gaps, or when she could tell someone was uncomfortable, she’d always been told it was one of her more irksome traits. 

“You wouldn’t mind if we took a look around, would you? Just while you’re gone?” She asked politely yet, for once, she regretted ever opening her mouth the second he turned his attention on her.

She felt something cold and dreadful run down her spine as he looked straight at her, his sepia eyes trailing down over her neck, running over her body and down to her hands that fidgeted at her sides.

They waited on baited breath, her stomach flipping with sickness as that manic smile drew even wider, trained solely on her, a thought privy only to himself somewhat amusing to him. She felt herself lean away without even meaning to, incidentally feeling Spencer’s arm bump into hers as she did, and the three men seemed to tense up as they watched Ferrell smell the air, savouring every second of it, his eyes blown wide with something unreadable. Lustful yet starved, like he was on a four day fast standing next to an open roast. 

“You’re awful pretty for an agent,” Floyd said, that drawling accent of his turning her stomach, and his eyes trailed down over her calves, and she cursed herself for wearing a midi skirt. But she hated jeans on her thighs, hated the way Florida air clung humidly to her skin when she didn’t let it breathe, but she thought she might just hate the way his mouth filled with saliva more, “Do you like running, agent?”

“Sometimes,” She whispered, shrinking in on herself even more as he took a step out of the home. 

And Spencer felt his chest drop at the sound of it. She sounded petrified. But then, he would be too if someone his size looked at him like he was a five-course banquet. And he regretted ever thinking of her as babysitting, as defective, because she was clearly trying her best, and this was where it had gotten her. Right on the UnSub’s menu.

“I bet you do a lot of running, chasing after bad guys, huh?” Floyd pushed, leering towards her with another smell of her perfume, and she could have sworn his smile only widened into something cheshire cat-esque. She nodded with a worried gulp, her breath picking up when his hand began moving up to where a rogue stray hair fell out of her bun, running over her collar bone, her heart beating so wild and heavy beneath it. 

And it was enough for Spencer to act, because within the blink of an eye, he’d side stepped in front of the rookie who seemed frozen in her spot, and Floyd’s arm was shoved away where it hit Spencer’s bicep. Ferrell was forced to stop looking over her clammy skin with heavy swallows like he was imagining just how she would cut and marinate, and instead was confronted with a frown that could send any man scarpering, Spencer’s lips pressed into something furious, his shoulders seeming only more broad than they usually did when he purposely blocked Ferrell’s view from her. 

“You’d better get going, Floyd,” Spencer said, his voice a deadly sort of calm, and his arm stuck out behind him to keep her where she was as he spoke, “You’re going to be late for church,” 

And Floyd listened, despite his smarmy smile as he dared a look at her when he passed by, despite the fact his eyes trailed back down to her jugular like he was ready to sever it there and then to string her up and cure. 

Spencer’s hand fished around his pocket, glaring at the back of Floyd’s head as he strolled down the street, tossing the keys to Alvez, “Take her back to the car, don’t let her out of your sight,” 

And the two of them listened while he and Matt swept the house, because anyone would be insane not to when Spencer looked so angry he could have put a hole through Ferrell’s head without blinking an eye.

–

“Eating people, who eats people, what on earth is that all about,” She muttered, the four of them in the SUV heading back to the station. She sat at the front with Spencer where he drove because Luke and Matt were gentlemen and had offered her the extra leg room, and Spencer had zero qualms because he was under strict instruction to keep an eye on her. 

She did that alot, he realised. Muttered when she was thinking about something. Where he went deadly silent when troubled, too focused on sorting through the mental files that seemed to be so resistant to organise these days, she was his entire opposite, always talking or humming a tune under her breath or playing an invisible set of piano notes on her knee, something to always keep the space filled. 

He’d hated it the first few days, the sound like a blaring alarm coming from over by her desk, cutting through his limited attention span, grating on his nerves and making him have to bite his tongue to stop himself from yelling at her to shut the fuck up. But then, it wasn’t exactly personal to her, even the sound of the coffee machine had been enough to pull at his hair in frustration. At twelve years old, it spluttered and whirred and kicked back at every drink it made, every second of it winding Spencer’s patience up like a jack in the box.

But he found himself listening in on her mumbles, glancing over at how her frown screwed up her doe eyes, her lip pulling between her teeth whenever there was a tiny pause in between her words, before she started again. He’d quickly realised it was the easiest cheat in the book to know when something was bothering her, that she was so much of an open book, not at all cold and guarded like him or so many other profilers he knew, that he wouldn’t need to bother deducing her like she was his next UnSub to know what was wrong. She would just tell him as it was, wear everything vulnerable on her face. 

“Something the matter?” He pressed, Luke also keeping a close watch on her from the back seat as she shook her head to herself, and her head snapped over to the driver’s side, her expression entirely caught even though she’d not exactly been subtle about her turmoil.

“M-me? “ She pointed to herself, and Spencer nodded, trying not to smile because sometimes she could be clueless, not the dumb kind but something sweet, naive, and he found himself somewhat jealous that she didn’t need to be the smartest person in the room to be worth something, she could just be herself, “Yeah, I guess I just,” She huffed, running her hands over her skirt, “I don’t get why anyone would want to eat someone else, it just-” She shivered, not in a theatrical or fake way but like a ghost had walked over her grave just thinking about Floyd smelling at her. 

“Some cultures used to cannibalise other members of their society as funerary practices as early as twenty-four thousand years ago,” Spencer said, and she stopped fidgeting to listen to him, “There’s evidence that the Magdelanians in North Europe used to turn their dead’s skulls into cups they would then drink out of,”

“That I can understand, those guys were probably starving and it’s not like they can just chow down on a damn sabertooth as an easy lunch or something,” She said, and he bit his lip from stopping her to explain that the two of them were about four thousand years apart from one another, “But like, when there’s a burger king or taco bell on every corner, why are you eating women. Who eats women for breakfast lunch and dinner, like raise your hands which one of you would ever eat a woman,” 

Luke sniggered, and Matt smirked at the innuendo of it, the double meaning of her words flying entirely over her head.

“I dunno, Alvez, do you like eating women?” Simmons asked, a smug grin in his words as the boys cackled childishly, and Spencer rolled his eyes with amusement. 

“Pretty partial to it actually,” Luke chimed in, and she whirled in her seat to look behind her of scepticism, “How about you, Reid?”

“You guys are so weird,” She murmured, and Spencer took a quick glance off the road to see her looking entirely baffled, her feathers ruffled at the fact she was left out of the joke. 

“They’re talking about oral sex,” He explained, because he remembered when that had been him for the longest time, and how it had made him feel like the butt of every punchline to not understand why everyone would smile at him knowingly, yet he found himself doing the exact same to her, his lips twitching at their corners.

Spencer watched her scoff, looking back at the two grown children in the back, “I take it back, you guys aren’t weird, your gross. Why can’t you be mature like Spencer?” She huffed, sitting back in her seat and fixing her skirt, “See if you were grownups like Agent Reid and I, you’d know the term isn’t eating a woman, it’s called focalratio,” 

Matt pulled a face of confusion, flicking his eyes to her, “Isn’t that to do with a camera lens?” 

“Do you mean fellatio?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest not to smirk because he didn’t want to make her feel stupid, except she just waved a hand at him.

“That’s what I said. I see why they call you Doctor Read and not Doctor Listen,” She giggled at her own words, watching the trees go by her passenger window, almost entirely oblivious to the way Spencer’s face cracked into a grin, something easy and charmed in his chest. 

And for a moment, he saw exactly what Penelope had been talking about when she wouldn’t stop talking about how likeable she was and how it was harder to hate her than it was to love her. 

Luke took a sip of his water, the bottle nearing the end as the Florida sun warmed it up, and he figured he might as well finish it before it became stagnant and undrinkable. 

“Actually the term fellatio describes only male genitalia, the female equivalent would be cunnilingus-” Spencer explained, and he knew she was listening because he felt her eyes on the side of his face as he spoke, except he was cut off by the sound of her screaming so loud he nearly slammed on the breaks then and there. 

“LUKE!” She yelled, and when Spencer looked, she had water dripping down the back of her hair, soaking her shirt to her skin, her black bra straps suddenly clear as day as they pressed against her dove white top. Alvez looked mortified, and he found himself apologising between coughs, water dribbling down his chin where he’d been so shocked to hear that word coming from Spencer’s mouth that he’d completely forgone swallowing and simply spat the whole thing out right through the gap between the headrest and the seat. 

And Spencer laughed; it was quiet and foreign and nothing on the roaring cacophony coming from Matt in the back, as her and Luke descended into a squabble, her proclaiming him as a disgusting alpaca man as she tried to dry herself off with his jacket. But she caught it, the small chuckle coming from her left, and she looked at him, the sodden shirt almost forgotten when she saw him laugh. 

She thought then that she wanted to make him laugh like that a million more times. And she knew she had it bad for Spencer Reid all over again.

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[barbiesmuse]

ᡣ𐭩 DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + fem!reader

summary: in which simon riley decides to message you after a year of no contact!

tags: angst, romance-ish, talk of abusive parents, simon's an asshole, slight age gap (27 - 30!), cursing, very slight body image issues, simon is a wreck, not proofread oopsie! talia talks: this is my first post!! this account is inspired by @audisive, much love to this blog! if this does well a part two will be out soon!

One year. Today officially marks one year since Simon left without any warning. He didn't even leave a note. You were a wreck. No one was able to get in contact with you for a month. Simon was your first everything. You questioned yourself over and over. You often find yourself looking in the mirror. You studied your appearance in the mirror. Was it the way you looked? Was it your age?

It took almost two months for you to even begin working again. It wasn't as if Simon was your world, but he was a very important part of it. After you got yourself back on your feet life was beginning to get better. You moved to a new city, got a new job, found new friends, and left your old self behind. A change of pass, at least that's what you wanted. 

No matter how much you wanted to forget the day he left you couldn't. He was always there in the back of your mind. The sound of his voice replaying over and over again. You would catch yourself staring into space, thinking of what life would be like if he was here now. How would he touch you? Simon left a large wound, and you felt as if it wouldn't heal anytime soon. You wondered if would you be engaged or married. Simon left like you were nothing to him, but it was quite the opposite.

Leaving you was the hardest thing Simon had ever done. Simon wasn't one for crying, he despised it. Yet as he took one last look at your once-shared home he felt a singular tear slip down his cheek. The salty liquid traced the curve of his face and slipped into his mouth. The taste of his tears brought him back to himself. Crying? Pathetic.

Simon Riley grew up in a rough house. His father was either absent or drunk. His mother died when Simon was young. He grew up hardened by abuse and war, but when he saw you it all went away. You were the light of his life. He often got lost in the darkness, thoughts of trauma and PTSD clouding his thoughts. You, you were the one thing that stopped him from destroying himself. Now that he didn't have you, he told himself he had nothing to lose.

Simon had stopped going to work, he had stopped eating, and he had stopped speaking. It was as if he wasn't living anymore, like his heart stopped. Simon was staying with his godmother, she was the only constant thing in his life now. He stayed in his room, only coming out once a week to eat. His godmother, Delena worried about him. She had known Simon since he was a child. She watched him grow up, and this was not like him.

Today was the day that marked a year, and you and Simon were both a mess. You wanted nothing more than a warm embrace from Simon. You imagine the creaking in the floorboards was his large boots trudging up the stairs. You imagined he had just come back from deployment, you would smile as he walked into your once-shared room. The sound of your phone “ding!” brought you out of your daydream.

Simon.

As Delena knocked softly on Simon's door she heard the sound of Simon's heavy breathing. Delena didn't wait for confirmation to walk in. She found Simon on his bathroom floor. A bottle of Disaronno lay by his side. His phone was cracked and his balaclava was nowhere to be found. His eyes were red, his lips were chapped, and his hands were shaking. He looked up at Delena with tired glossy eyes. He stayed away for a reason, he was going to ruin you. He wasn't healthy, no part of him was healthy. He was toxic, the only good part about him was you. But he didn't have you anymore.

Simon looked at Delena as she sat down next to him, her back sliding against the wall until she hit the ground. She chuckles softly and his lips curl into a tight grin. “I texted her,” Simon says, he picks up his cracked phone and shows it to his godmother. She gives him a sympathetic look and rubs his back. She knew that you were going to text back. She wished deep down you wouldn't. He had left you, who's to say he won't do it again? But she could never say that to her godson. 

“Well, that was very brave of you, Si.” The older woman says. Her hair was a gorgeous silver color. Her nails were painted a dark red. Simon liked the way she carried herself, with class and elegance. Simon, on the other hand, was a mess. She sighed as she realized there was a slight chance he might never get better. Delena wasn't sure if she was okay with that. She was getting too old.

Your breath hitched as you read the text. Simon had texted you? Why? You didn't want to respond, you hated him. He left you, he never called or texted. Not even a letter, so why should you respond to his text? Yet as you open the message, your heart drops.

Simon. I miss you, love.

talia talks: this was fun to write!! part two will be on it's way soon! xoxo!

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

opposites attract | l.howlett

Summary: Logan is a grump but you're his sunshine

Tags: fluff, slightly ooc Logan, empty threats to throw reader off a cliff (?)

Logan Howlett was a grump. It was a well-known fact, he never tried to deny it, in fact he was proud of it. The students were terrified of him, he never got approached for babysitting duty, life was great. That was… until you showed up at the school. 

You and Logan were complete polar opposites, night and day, ying and yang, grumpy and sunshine but as the age old saying goes, opposites attract. He might be a grump, but he was your grump and that was all that mattered. Logan loved you, honestly he did, but sometimes your sunshineness was too much for him. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Babyyy get up. You promised we’d go for a walk this morning. You pinky promised!” You poked Logan’s side as you laid beside him in bed, the older man’s eyes closed and one hand flipping you off while the other held you close to him. 

“How in the hell are you so fuckin’ cheery at 5am? Do you get coffee infused into your veins?” He glared at you and you just rolled your eyes.

“Baby you promised me. C’mon, you gotta get up or we’re gonna miss the sunrise and then it’ll all be for nothing.” Logan groaned and sat up, his hand covering your mouth just before you squeal. 

“One more squeak out of you and I throw you out of the window.” You smiled behind his hand and just nodded, going in the bathroom to brush your teeth and get changed while Logan threw on his typical jeans and white wife beater. “You’re gonna need a jacket bub, it’ll be cold out.” 

“Nuh uh. Weather app says it’s warm, it’ll be fine.” You protested and he rolled his eyes, putting on his own jacket with a look that clearly said ‘don’t try stealing mine’. The walk to this bench you raved about wasn’t too far, a steady ten minutes, twenty with Logan by your side as you insisted on stopping and making him sniff every flower you passed. When you finally reached the bench, Logan realised that maybe getting up this early was worth it. The bench looked out over a cliff, the sun just starting to peak over the horizon and the waves crashing against the rocks below. “Pretty right?” Logan just nodded in response and sat next to you on the bench, slipping off his jacket as he notices your shivers and wrapping it around your shoulders as you give him a smug look. 

“Not a word or you’re going straight off the cliff and in the water, sunshine.”

First little drabble for Logan. Please like and repost if you enjoyed, it encourages me to write more :)

Divider: @coolcatsgraphics

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOPPOSITE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N and Matt are polar opposites.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Matt was not an extroverted person. Unsurprisingly, he was a quieter, more reserved guy who liked to have his own space and took his own time to say what he wanted if he was asked to do so. His mood would change drastically if he was forced to talk when or with whoever he didn't want to.

Y/N, on the other hand, looked like a little ball of light that wouldn't stay still. She had a habit of talking a lot in a short space of time, uttering words until she was out of breath. In addition to always seeming to be in a good mood, a smile decorating her face like a permanent tattoo. Energetic was the word that defined her.

Therefore, when she and Matt revealed their relationship to the public, many fans didn't understand the origin of their love, as they were very different, literally polar opposites.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"... Stop! Stop protecting your insecurities because you know you have an ass haircut, so you're projecting what could possibly happen to me! At least I'm willing to take that change." Nick screamed next to Y/N, moving his arms comically in exaggerated despair.

Chris laughed loudly at his speech, leaning his back against the car door from the passenger seat so that he could have a better view of the back. Matt smiled as he shook his head, watching them in the rearview mirror.

Y/N quickly nodded her head, her eyes wide as she raised her hands, showing that she wanted to initiate her own opinion on the matter.

"Exactly! You only try to diminish others because you are insecure about yourself. It's impossible to be friends with people like that. They are always trying to diminish someone, saying absurd things that cause so much discomfort." She spoke quickly, gesturing with her hands as her eyes darted between Nick and the rearview mirror, or rather, Matt's blue eyes.

Matt watched her with eyes full of love and affection, nodding his head in agreement to what she was saying.

"They're always talking bad about someone, have you noticed?" Y/N turned to face the blonde next to her, pointing her right index finger towards him, who hummed.

"Yes, exactly!" Nick shouted, slamming his hands against the back of Chris's seat, earning an angry shout from the boy.

"People can only give what they have inside themselves." Y/N finished her train of thought, shrugging as she licked her lips, wetting them.

Matt quickly reached for the bottle of his own tea in the cup holder between the front seats, opening the lid and turning his upper body towards the back, silently offering the drink to his girlfriend. She smiled big, sending a wink as a "thank you" before taking the bottle.

"It's good to have Y/N in a video with us. She speaks for both of them." Chris commented briefly, pointing to Y/N and Matt, letting out a hysterical laugh when he saw Matt rolling his eyes - but still not denying anything.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt was fast asleep. His head buried in the white pillow, and his body curled up like a burrito around the fluffy duvet. His mouth was half open, low snores escaping from between his lips. His eyelids trembled slightly, showing that his mind was sailing through dream land.

Y/N slowly opened the door with her elbow, her hands occupied by a wooden tray that held a simple but nutritious breakfast for two. The girl had a big smile decorating her face as she walked with light steps towards the bed.

She placed the tray on the closest bedside table in one quick movement before going to the windows, opening the black-out curtains, allowing the sunlight to illuminate the room completely.

A grumbling sound was heard from the bed, Matt lifting the duvet to the top of his head, still half asleep. Y/N smiled at his reaction, quickly walking to the bed, kneeling on the mattress and pulling the blanket off the boy, laying her chest on her boyfriend's bare one, bringing her face closer to his.

"Good morning, my love." She murmured against his cheek, sealing her lips over his skin repeatedly.

Matt grumbled again, his brow furrowing in false anger but pushing his face against hers lightly, enjoying the feeling of being showered in affection by his girlfriend.

"Come on baby, wake up!" Y/N asked a few seconds later - after seeing his eyes closing again -, her fingers pulling Matt's eyebrows up slightly, watching him forcefully open his blue orbs.

Her laughter echoed through the room as the boy pretended to go bite her, a smile spreading across his face instantly.

"It's such a beautiful day outside. I thought we'd have a picnic. Or we could go to that golf park. Oh oh oh, or we could cook that blackberry pie you wanted. We could also-" Her words came quickly, excitement evident in her voice.

Matt's sleepy brain took a few minutes to process what his girlfriend was saying, his head just nodding in agreement without even knowing what he was agreeing to.

"Can we?" Y/N's question caught his attention. Matt only opened his right eye, looking at her for a few seconds, trying to search in his mind what she was asking him to do without achieving any results.

Matt didn't understand how Y/N woke up with so much energy, while he needed at least 20 minutes to really feel alive.

"Yeah, sure." The brunette mentally shrugged his shoulders. She wouldn't have asked him to do something risky to their lives, so it was okay for him to accept it without knowing what it was. Right?

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N knocked twice on the door of her shared room with Matt, the sound almost imperceptible. She turned the handle and opened it, entering the room slowly.

The sound of loud music escaped the brunette's headphones, which rested against his ears. The boy was sitting in his gaming chair, and his upper body bent slightly forward as his hands worked on the keyboard, probably answering emails sent to the Sturniolo Triplets inbox.

The girl walked with light and quick steps towards her boyfriend, a small smile on her face in excitement. She gently touched his right shoulder, alerting him to her presence.

Matt looked up, his eyes instantly brightening as he noticed Y/N there. His hands pushed the headphone back - leaving it hanging around his neck - while his feet moved on the floor, turning the chair so that he was facing her.

"Babe, it's raining." Y/N quickly said, without even waiting for him to talk.

Matt frowned, his hands moving up to her hips, lightly squeezing the covered area.

"Yeah, I know, honey." He nodded, confused as to why she would be telling him the obvious, the sound of heavy raindrops hitting the windows from outside filled the room.

"Can we dance in the rain? Please, please, please?" Y/N clasped her hands in front of her body in a sign of prayer, pleading with her eyes.

Matt raised his eyebrows, the thought of getting completely wet with the freezing rain made him shiver, his mind already imagining his clothes sticking to his skin.

He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily.

"What I wouldn't do for you?"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"What do you guys want?" Madi asked as she stood up from her seat at the table on the fast food restaurant, ready to place the triplets' and Y/N's orders besides her own.

Nick quickly said what he wanted without taking his eyes off his phone, choosing the photos that he would put in that Friday's photo dump. Chris mumbled his order, resting his left cheek on his hand - which was supported on the table by his elbow -, his eyes focused on the digital menu on his own phone.

Madi nodded to the two before turning to Matt and Y/N, waiting for them to say what they wanted.

"For me, it's just going to be a cheeseburger and a Diet Coke. And Matt's going to have a double cheeseburger and a root beer." Y/N counted on her fingers as she said each food, watching Madi nod when she finished. "Thank you, Madi." She blew the brunette an air kiss.

Matt pressed his lips to the top of Y/N's head lightly before pulling her to rest the back of her shoulder against his chest.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"No, Chris, I don't want a blueberry donut." Matt rolled his eyes, huffing as he leaned his hips against the table, his arms crossed.

"You're hungry, and it's the only thing we have right now, Matt." Chris rolled his eyes back, exchanging looks with Nate, who smiled, amused by his reaction.

"What happened to you today? Did you wake up with the wrong foot?" Nick asked, his tone full of annoyance, wrinkling his nose.

"Why don't you shut-" Matt's sentence was interrupted by Y/N entering the kitchen, humming a Taylor Swift song under her breath.

"Oh, hi guys! Good morning." Y/N smiled brightly at the four of them, her eyes shining as she met Matt's, approaching him with quick steps - throwing smiles towards Chris, Nick, and Nate as she passed them. "Hi baby." She rose on her tiptoes, sealing his lips in a quick kiss.

A smile automatically grew on Matt's face, his eyes taking on a lovestruck look, all the anger he felt vanishing.

"Did you eat? I didn't see you eating breakfast earlier. You must be hungry." She asked, still facing him, her brow furrowed in concern as her right hand rested lightly on Matt's stomach, stroking the covered skin.

"No, baby. There's nothing interesting here." The boy sighed dramatically, ignoring his brothers' murmurs of disgust.

"We still have blueberry donuts, honey. There are some left over from the video you three made yesterday." Y/N pointed to the counter, where the box of donuts sat next to the stove. "You liked them, right?" She moved slightly away from Matt, reaching out and taking one before handing it to the boy.

Matt instantly smiled, taking the sweet from Y/N's hands with his right one and bringing it to his mouth, biting off a small piece. His left hand rested on Y/N's hip, caressing the area.

"It doesn't even look like he just-" Nick began his sentence, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Thank you, my love." Matt cut Nick off, sending a glare in his direction over Y/N's right shoulder before opening a big smile to her, biting off another piece.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Hi, good afternoon! How are you?" Y/N greeted the McDonald's attendant, a big smile lighting up her face, as her eyes went to the board where the menu was displayed, mentally confirming what she was going to order.

The attendant smiled back quickly, her heart warming at finally being able to have a kind costumer who wasn't in a bad mood.

"Good afternoon! I'm great, thank you." She nodded momentarily, placing her fingers on the computer screen, ready to select the order. "What can I do for you today?" Her eyes went from Y/N to Matt, who was standing behind the girl.

His hands rested in the front pocket of the hoodie that covered his upper body, while an awkward smile spread across his face, nodding briefly.

Y/N started ordering calmly, including Chris and Nick's orders that she had already memorized - even though they both said they didn't want anything, she knew that Nick would end up biting a peace of her burger and Chris would steal Matt's fries -, giving the attendant time to select everything without rushing.

"Is that all for today?"

"Yes, that's all." Y/N confirmed, taking Matt's wallet out of her purse and taking out her card, quickly paying for the order. "Thank you so much. Have a nice day!"

Matt quickly mumbled a "thank you" before intertwining his fingers with Y/N's, allowing her to pull him toward a table.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Yes, they were polar opposites, but Matt and Y/N showed every day that opposites really do attract each other.

© vanteguccir

[sematarygirls]

 ☀️ ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── introducing sunshine!reader

warmth personified .ᐟ  ball of energy.  777.  folk music.  sunflowers.  fleetwood mac.   crystals. polaroid pictures.  soft floral patterns.  vinyl records. all things vintage.  rom coms.  charm bracelets.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader who seems to leave a trail of warmth wherever she goes, like she's made of sunshine. her presence is almost magnetic, and she has a way of making friends with everyone. she doesn't subscribe to the kooks vs. pogues mentality, instead believing that everyone deserves the same amount of kindness, even if they are not kind to her.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader who works at her grandmother's antique shop during the week and volunteers at the local animal shelter on the weekends. after hurricanes and extremely bad storms, she volunteers to help with the clean up and brings food to people that were particularly affected by the storms.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader who loves to bake and dance around the kitchen to her favorite band fleetwood mac. she longs to see stevie nicks in concert one day and has a big jar on her dresser with money she's saved up to go. it's decorated with stickers and doodles, surrounded by her favorite crystals and knick knacks for good luck.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader whose room is a kaleidoscope of everything she's ever loved—walls covered in polaroid pictures, pressed flowers, posters, and art prints. vinyl records are stacked haphazardly next to an old turntable, and her bed is covered in a quilt her grandmother made along with all her favorite stuffed animals, some of them having patches of mis-matched fabric sewed in.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader who has collections of about a thousand different things— buttons, stamps, coins, records, dolls, bottle caps, post cards. she's always stashing random little things away like a squirrel hoarding nuts.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader who smells of vanilla and coconut with a hint of something distinctly nostalgic, like spending an exciting afternoon with your inviting grandparent as a child. she greets people with a bright smile and a wave, her bracelets jingling with each movement, like her own personal melodic theme song.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader who can't resist a cute animal. she's the kind of girl who rescues stray cats and dogs to find them a new home and always wants pet any fluffy animal she comes across, consequences be damned.

.ᐟ    sunshine!reader who takes rafe completely by surprise. he's never met anyone quite so cheery, especially not a pogue, and the way she brushes off his arrogance and ignores his cruel words intrigues him greatly. she seems to see past him, almost like she knows the motivations for his actions better than he does, and it scares him like hell, but at the same time, he can't stop thinking about her.

           ୭ৎ sunshine!reader works below .ᐟ

    01. sunshine!reader playlist.

    02. sunshine!reader &&. rafe's first meeting.

[madame-fear]

Imagine lucerys being betrothed to sunshine!reader😭💕 her parents meet with Rhaenyra when she becomes queen to arrange a marriage between lucerys and their youngest daughter, she’s just curious about everything because her parents never let her experience what her older sisters did because they sheltered her at a young girl age but she loves talking and making new friends. She’s so bubbly when greeting everyone like the Targaryens, and she’s not even scared of them because she believes that every one has kindness. And she’s so fascinated by dragons, she immediately comes to look at them and Arrax and Syrax actually like her and Rhaenyra just loves her because she’s kinda like the daughter she’s never had!!

AHHSHHSHD NONNIE thank you for feeding my mind with this !! i literally CAN’T get over this !! 😭

okay but literally imagine, I think everyone would be delighted by how bubbly & endearing you are. First thought I had beforefinishing to read the message, is that Rhaenyra would absolutely ADORE you the very second you greet her in a most respectful manner, with a wide toothy grin growing on your lips— it would take Nyra no time for her to treat you as her own daughter,, she would basically have you under her wing from that very moment.

Knowing that Luke is a little bit shy, I can picture him helplessly smiling at how lovely you simply are. Initially, he would be overwhelmed... But in a good way, of course! Much like his mother — and basically the rest of his family —, Luke would immediatly be swooped off his feet at the sight of, simply, how much of a kind young girl you are, and incredibly respectful as well to each one of his family members, and to him.

I can definitely see Lucerys offering you his arm to walk you around King’s Landing, or the Red Keep, for you to know your way around as you both gleefully chat. In a way, your personality wouod match perfectly with Luke’s— being the one to take him out of his shell, and swiftly improving his mood at the sight of your presence in the same room as he is in.

And since you have a great curiousity for dragons, and they have grown fond of you, perhaps even booping their snouts against your face playfully, Lucerys would take you to the dragonpit to greet them rather often. The way your eyes are simply impressed by the sight of these huge beasts is a loving sight to behold— and he’s most definitely the type to take you on dragonrides on whichever opportunity he has to do so; adoring the way your warm body eagerly holds him as the air delicately hits on your face whilst riding Arrax.

You are just perfect to be the Lady of the Tides, and I’m certain he would be thanking the Seven for gifting him such a wonderful little sunshine as his betrothed.

NONNIE THIS IS NOT ENOUGH,, I LITERALLY NEED TO WRITE A ONE-SHOT ABOUT THIS, WITH YOUR PERMISSION. 🙇‍♀️

[wintfleur]

HERE COMES THE SUN !

“you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off you”

jackson’s sunshine .ᐟᅟ romance books. polaroid pictures. paint stains on jeans. vinyl records. sowing. trading in things for more art supplies. animal whisper. affectionate. handwritten letters. warmth personified.

⠀﹙ 🌻 ﹚

sunshine!reader who’s presence is almost magnetic, she brings a comforting warmth and sweet smile wherever she goes—that makes you just immediately drawn to her. she treats everyone with kindness, helpful as ever. literally the embodiment of sunshine, warm, bright and kind.

sunshine!reader who likes to keep busy. volunteering at the school, daycare, shops, farm/stables, etc. she just wants to help everyone and she loves being social. She prefers helping inside of the community instead of going out on patrols. She only likes going on patrols with Joel, Tommy, and Jesse. feeling the safest with them.

sunshine!reader who appears to be weak and naive from her personality and lack of intimidation, but is far from it. She knows how to defend and protect herself, knowing her way around a gun and knife. She just prefers when others (jesse) takes care of her, not liking to get her hands dirty.

sunshine!reader who likes to trade things for more art supplies, art is like her escape. From painting, drawing, pressing flowers, sowing, and taking pictures with her polaroid camera that her uncle got her. she loves collecting things as well, all of it organized perfectly in her room. Buttons, records/cds, post cards, vintage jewelry, and more.

sunshine!reader who loves to make sure she looks and smells good always. In the hotter weather she loves wearing her short sundresses, shorts/skirts and her pretty tops, in the colder weather she loves wearing her favorite jeans and sweaters. She smells like a mixture of vanilla and sweet flowers, it’s addictive. She loves wearing jewelry, specifically bracelets, some vintage and some homemade that she made with the kids of Jackson.

sunshine!reader who is very expressive with her eyes. many has described her as having ‘doe eyes’

sunshine!reader who has a fear of being alone, so she’s always attached to someone’s hip.

sunshine!reader who is a hopeless romantic. She has read tons of romance books that just made her fall in love with the idea of being in love. And then when she got to Jackson she got to see her first romance movie, she tries to go to as many movies as she can. She cried when she was gifted a tv with a bunch of old movies.

sunshine!reader who loves to go outside the walls with jesse, to pick flowers and fruit. Or to just relax in the field and watch the wild horses. she always brings her pretty basket with her, the two of them having picnics. Or the two of them sneaking off to go take swims in the nearby rivers. Jesse loves watching her press flowers in her journals as they rest on a blanket in the field, or weaving them into her hair.

sunshine!reader who would love to be a mother, whether it’s from her own body or adopting a child. she loves helping take care of the kids, always so attentive to them. Everyone can see it. She would be an amazing mother.

“My gift is my song and this one’s for you”

˗ˏˋ SERIES MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

𝓻oro’s note. OH OUR DARLING GIRL ᐢᗜᐢ please tell me what you think of her ☺️

ᆼᆽᆼ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 & 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ！

་ 𝓽aglist : @winterbarnesblog @43hyughes @toasttt11 @mushy-mushroom04 @mihstar @beelee-cotton @hardbeingcasual

send an ask or comment on this post to be added to the taglist!

©️WINTFLEUR ; you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.

[bi-writes]

more little thoughts about curvy!sunshine!fem!reader and dark!simon (18+)

thinking about being so indifferent to his violence because it has never been directed at you. you had a bad night at the pub--an asshole tried to grab your ass in the brand new white dress you bought, with a puffy little mini skirt, and you had wanted to wear it out and get dressed up. the man had ruined your night; you just wanted to spend it with simon, drinking and spending time together, and as soon as he had his hand up your dress, and simon saw the tears in your eyes, all he could see was red.

you're sitting on the curb outside, sniffling, tears still a little damp on your face as you lick at the cone of ice cream you're holding. you click your heels against the pavement, and you look to the side when you feel a big, warm presence take a seat next to you. his shirt looks damp and sticky, and your eyes dart down to see how his boots smear blood against the ground. you smile a little through your soft tears, reaching over and sliding your arm around his. the tension in his muscles relaxes, and you lean up and kiss his cheek gently.

"did he squirm?" you ask softly as you trace his ungloved hand, running your fingers lightly over the fresh bruises there. "i know you hate it when they cry."

"didn't 'ave time t'cry," he grumbles. he leans over, kissing your forehead through the mask, holding you close. "cut his throat out before he could even think about it. and then i took his hands, luv--" you take a lick of your ice cream before you smile up at him. "didn't deserve 'em since he's had a feel 'f ya."

he lets you paint his nails. you sit on his big thigh, holding his hand up as you smooth black polish over his nail bed. you clean his cuticles and under his fingernails, giving him a nice little manicure before practicing your nail-painting skills. all he does is sit there and grumble as he watches a football game on the telly, not really paying you any mind. when you finish, you smooth lotion over his cracked knuckles and smooth some oil over his nails until they're nice and soft. when you finish, he makes you watch him stuff those fingers into your pretty pussy. he never takes his eyes off the game, but his lips twitch into the lightest smirk as he feels you writhe and squirm beside him, laid back on the couch as you wet his freshly painted nails with cum.

he never lets you cry, not really, because he fucking hates it. if you cry, he tilts your head up towards him, shoving his mask up before dragging his pink tongue up your face and ridding the pretty planes of your cheeks of any evidence. his solution to your sadness, if that doesn't work, is to put his head between your thighs and eat.

he never says no to you. wherever you want to go, he will take you. whatever you want to buy, he will buy it for you. even if it's something you technically can't have, like the vintage purse you see as you window shop with a not for sale tag on it. or the last pair of sparkly barrettes that the woman in front of you snagged first, found at the bottom of your shopping bag the next day. or the job you applied for that you knew you wouldn't get because you bombed the interview--only to receive confirmation in the middle of the night that you got the job, telling simon monday night that your new boss got mugged only a few hours after your interview!

(the bruises on his face are gnarly--and he seems to always avoid you like the plague.)

you break all his supposed boundaries in front of other people, but what they don't understand is that he has boundaries with everyone except for you. when you visit him on base, everyone tenses when you run into the rec room looking for him, slipping into the chair he sits in and taking your place on his lap. but ghost doesn't flinch as he does if others touch him. no, he just places his hand on your back to steady you. when you're out at the pub with his teammates, they stare wide-eyed as you cup his masked cheeks and kiss him all over his face--his eyes, his nose, his cheeks--but all ghost does is pat your ass soothingly and stroke along your hair gently. he stands out in crowds, so imposing and large and broad, and he ignores the stares when a pretty girl bounces into his orbit, taking his hand and pulling him along because simon, i saw this dress, but i need your help getting the zipper up--

there just isn't anyone like you. ghost feels dead, on the inside. he doesn't feel right. he knows something is so wrong inside of him. he wants to eat your glow. it's what he has loved about you since he met you. the unconditional devotion, the big heart you give him, the wet look in your eyes when he does anything for you, even when it includes the bloody stuff. even if he does the wrong thing, even if he kills the wrong man, and you know he is overreacting, you are never mad, never angry. you just kiss his scars and coo in his ear, "it's okay, you didn't know any better, you were just doing it for me, weren't you, baby?"

you give him the validation that he needs to be violent. you tell him it's okay. you aren't afraid of all the gore, of the terrible things he does, of all the things he rights with wrongs. he is quick to anger, and he finds it easy to be judge, jury, and executioner, and all you do is bat your lashes and open your legs and tell him it's okay, simon--it's okay, come here, i miss you.

you suffocate the things that scream in his ears. when it's too loud, you push him to lay down, climb up over him, put your thighs around his head and quiet the noise. you sit your pretty pussy on his mouth, and you ride his face, smoothing a hand over the balaclava that he is too busy to take off. you used to be afraid of being too heavy, of making it hard to breathe for him, but simon is a big boy, and maybe he wants to die, because you taste so sweet, and he always chubs up so easily with his hands digging into your hips and his tongue deep inside of you.

it aches, everything hurts, the world is too loud, but it isn't like this in your flat. it's just right. it's normal. it's safe. simon can be himself, and so can you, and when he is too brooding and terrifying, he looks at you, because if you're still smiling, he isn't too much of anything. and when you think you're talking too fast, when you are second-guessing the dress you want to wear, you look at him, because if he is there, nothing will ever be wrong, and no one can ever hurt you.

simon isn't a good person. you know that. he's quick to the knife. he likes to bite. he commits war crimes, and then he comes home, and no one asks him to explain himself, and no one tells him to stop what he's doing, and when he does it over and over again, all he gets is validation, medals for a job well done, and maybe you're an instigator, too, because you let him fuck you in every position whenever he comes home, a reward for bringing death to whoever was stupid enough to end up at the wrong end of his rifle.

but it's really, really hard to care. as soon as he steps through the door, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor, all of your doubts disappear. all you can do is stare at him in all his gear, swallow the drool that threatens to spill, smile--welcome home, teddy bear!

he is a bear. but you've never been on the receiving end of what scares people. if someone were to ask you what to do, you don't think you'd know what to tell them. you wonder what it is you would tell them if they begged for your help.

run away? or play dead?

[aemnd]

꒰ 𓉸ྀི ꒱ ── 𝓼𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒. ♡ 𝓫𝑜𝑦𝑓 ! a.t. ྀི

cw: mdni. afab reader. pet names. fluff + erotica. grumpy bf 𝑥 sunshine gf. whipped!aemond. modern au.

𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒. so .. lmk what y'all think ♡ also, my reqs are currently open for any prompts &. any ideas/tropes that you want to see me write about for our boy, aem. ꫂৎ

you wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window of your bedroom, far too cheerful for this early hour. aemond, grumpy as ever, groans beside you and buries his face deeper into one of your many fluffy pink pillows that he always favors when he sleeps over at your place.

"morning, sunshine," you coo softly, brushing a long strand of silver hair from his face.

he grunts, a subtle warning that he's not in the mood for your cheerfulness. that's all you get, a single grunt, but you don't mind, not in the slightest.

you smile, because this is your favorite part of the day—watching the fiercest targaryen squirm under the weight of your love and, worse, your relentless joy. clearly, you're a morning person. aemond is... whatever the opposite of that is, probably with fire and blood involved.

"you're lucky that i love you, woman," he scolds, grouchy as always, his voice gravelly and low, no doubt pouting. you lean down and kiss the cleft of his strong, aquiline nose, humming softly, "you say that like it's a burden."

"it is," he grumbles, pretending to sulk, though his arm snakes around your waist and pulls you against him. "you smile too much. it's suspicious."

"and you frown too much, it's exhausting," you pout.

that earns you a soft, rare smirk from your beloved grumpy boyfriend—the good kind. it's the one he saves just for you when he thinks you're not looking, always silently amused by your little retorts that you say back to him, charmed even. he'd never admit it, but your presence is the only thing that stops him from wanting to burn half the world down on bad days.

you sit up and stretch like a newborn kitten, sunbeams dancing across your face. aemond watches, silently, like you're some celestial being he can't quite believe is real, drinking in your beauty greedily with his half-lidded eye.

"you're ridiculous," he chides gently, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth mockingly, as though he were displeased.

"you're in love," you counter, teasing.

he sighs, long and dramatic, mumbling underneath his breath, "unfortunately."

you giggle girlishly and toss him a clean shirt, your smile brighter than the morning sun. and despite himself, aemond—one-eyed prince of brooding storms and silent rage—feels the corner of his lips lift again in a small, lazy smirk.

it's annoying. you're annoying.

but, gods help him, he wouldn't have it any other way. you stand in the golden morning light, breathtakingly beautiful and perfect, wrapped in nothing but one of his old college t-shirts, oversized and hanging off your shoulder like a whispered invitation.

aemond watches you with that sharp, unreadable gaze—the kind that once caused your troublesome ex-boyfriend to flinch and made your enemies fall silent. but when this gaze is directed at you, it feels different. it's softer, almost reverent, as if you've accomplished something extraordinary simply by loving him, by choosing him.

"you're staring," you croon, without looking at him, rummaging through your dresser for some clean clothes.

"i always do, baby," he replies simply, his voice low—rough, raspy, and deep. possessive in the way only he can be—with few words and a gaze that pins you in place better than any chains ever could.

you turn to him, grinning impishly. "like what you see, daddy?" he doesn't answer right away; instead, he smirks at you with amusement, making his eye twinkle with something mischievous and dangerous.

gracefully, he rises from the bed, bare-chested and stunning in a haunted, warrior-like way. the scar that cuts through the flesh on his devilishly handsome face, the pale glow of his silky hair, and the dangerous calm in his every step should be intimidating, even terrifying.

but you know better. you know the way he kisses you when he thinks you're asleep and lost in sweet, blissful dreams. you know how he grips your hand under the dinner table while dining with his complicated family, and the way he touches you as if you're the only soft thing in a world that has always been too hard.

he approaches you in three slow, prowling steps. one large hand cups your jaw delicately, a bit possessively, while the other pulls you closer by the small of your back. "you're too good for me, sweetheart," he hums, so quietly that his words barely fill the space between you.

"and yet," you whisper, brushing your lips against his as though you are sealing a promise of eternal love, "i chose you anyway… always."

that's all it takes.

he kisses you like he's making a vow, slow at first, then deeper, needier—like he's trying to tell you everything he never learned how to say out loud. his fingers tangle in your hair, his cock already half-hard just from the mere sight of you in the morning sunlight, utterly angelic, so fucking perfect. your hands slide over the smooth, warm skin of his chest, feeling the thrum of a heart that only ever beats hard for you.

as he walks you back toward the bed, his movements are not rough or hurried; they are intimate and devoted. his touch feels reverent, and his kisses are full of worship against your flushed skin. he memorizes every inch of you as if it's the last time, even though he promises that he will have you for a thousand lifetimes more.

you giggle, a delightful sound that is one of your boyfriend's many favorites that come from you. he pulls the shirt over your head and tosses it aside as if it has offended him, chuckling as you immediately frown. "you always do that," you accuse with a small huff, rolling your doe eyes in faux annoyance.

"you shouldn't ever hide from me, sweet girl," he murmurs against your neck, lips dragging across your heated skin as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses across your delicate throat. "not even a little."

the morning melts into slow, passionate kisses and whispered promises, hands exploring familiar paths with new hunger. he touches you like you're both fire and salvation, like he can't decide if he wants to burn or be saved by you, his most precious girl.

and when it's all over—when you're tangled together in your cream colored silk sheets, panting and coming down from your incredible highs of lovemaking, his forehead pressed to yours and his breathing finally calming down—he speaks again, voice barely audible over the pounding of your hearts.

"you're everything, sunshine."

you trace lazy circles on his sweat-slick chest, smiling as brightly as the morning sun itself. "and you're mine."

© ┄ 𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗡𝗗, 2025. ྀི

[crescenthistory]

analyze regulus black sunshine reader? like reader is js such good friends with ppl and socializes sm? maybe he gets jealous over how close she is with people? like how does he bring it up to her? :)

hi there darling<3 i would love to! i have also already written several full-length fics about sunshine!reader with reggie, including "you occupy my every thought" (where reg doesn't understand reader's love for him) and "are you falling asleep on me?" (where reader spends late nights in the library with him), if you want to see more 🤞

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ANALYSE regulus black with a sunshine!reader

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: gn!reader, reg's mental health struggles

regulus had always used his cold demeanor, family reputation that preceded him and lack of social skills as a shield to protect himself

it's better to keep everyone away than to risk under- or overestimating anyone he chose to let in

he had a close knit group of friends in the rosier twins, barty and dorcas, and he told himself time and time again that he didn't want or need more

which is why you walking into his life and choosing him effortlessly was so disorientating and hard to swallow for him

someone who was considered lively, beautiful and pure like you had no place in regulus' orbit, he was certain of it

yet you just settled down like it was the most natural thing in the world

sunshine!reader who loves regulus not just despite every obstacle he has thrown up to keep you from doing so, but even specifically because of it

sunshine!reader who looks at him and sees him instead of looking past

sunshine!reader who is not just bubbly but emotionally intelligent and willing to hold space for regulus in that way he desperately needs but is unable to convey

everything that regulus thought it a given that people dislike in him, you adored -> his deadpan humour that most people found rude, you found hilarious, his quiet and reserved self that sirius always called boring, you found serenity in

and you were so painfully patient and kind with him, never demanding, just showing up and loving him in a way he thought impossible

how could he not fall for you?

it took him a long time to get used to the feeling, let alone act on it or speak it out loud

i believe most romances with regulus, especially from "unexpected" people, would have to start as friendships that he slowly builds up trust and comfort in

which any sunshine!reader would fully understand and encourage him in, making him all the more infatuated

i think regulus would view sunshine!reader as kind of holy, someone who can do no wrong and is perfect all the way through

so if you were to ever reference or communicate any insecurity about being too much, too loud, too bubbly, etc. he would be just so thoroughly confused

i think he might not even understand what you're trying to say until a while later

at which point he would approach you and be like "hold up, what?"

which hits even more if this happens pre-relationship while he's still getting comfortable with you, but his reaction just couldn't be contained

it was simply unheard of to regulus that you view yourself as anything short of perfect

similarly, if anyone made jokes at your expense, he would wield every bit of his harsh facade and reputation that precedes him to ensure it doesn't happen again

barty and evan understand from pretty much the first week of your friendship that you are not to be messed with, and they respect both you and regulus for it

they need to tease someone though, so instead they focus all their energy on how lovesick regulus is becoming

when it comes to jealousy, i think regulus would be more jealous of what sunshine!reader can do than who they're with

it seems to him that everything is easy to you, that it just comes naturally to you to be such a kind individual

i believe his love for you would be permanently settled when he comes to understand that it's not easy for you, but that you do it anyway; it's not natural, it's hard fought for

yet, as he goes on his own healing journey, a part of him would be so envious to hear you navigate through difficult feelings with kindness and logic or see you get on so openly with those around you

he would be so glad you are able to do that and that you get to be completely surrounded by love – he just longs for it for himself

i think he would also be jealous of your friends for being able to match your energy so well

there would be many many conversations where regulus goes "you deserve better" and you go "but i want you"

seeing you and sirius shoot banter back and forth like it's nothing or see you run up to braid lily's hair at a moment's notice would both heal and break something in regulus

he's once again confronted with everything he could be, feels like maybe he should be, but can't

because regulus' personality, no matter how healed he is, is never super outgoing and sunshine-y – when he's with close friends, he is much more lively and filled with banter and jokes and even some physical affection. but it's never the same as your friends.

he wonders if he should be more

you keep showing him every day that he doesn't need to be, that you love him because he's him; he doesn't need to change for you

when he becomes more comfortable in your relationship, his ideal time of voicing any such feelings would be at night in bed

with the lights turned off and his face buried in your skin somewhere, he feels safe enough to be vulnerable with you

you'll drag your fingers through his hair and talk him down every time

the best part of being with regulus is getting to love him through the healing process and see him separate his personality from his coping mechanisms and fully blossom

i think it would be a bumpy ride, but what he needs throughout it all is a rock

his sunshine!reader

i also believe he would call sunshine!reader for sun related nicknames, particularly in french (soleil anyone?)

[readsaboutreid]

Could I please request a sunshine! Reader who's a friend of Penelopes, and she goes to drop off some baking for Pen when she asks Spencer for directions to her office, he's a stuttering mess and the reader offers him a cookie as thanks for his directions. And she tells Pen about the cute guy and so she ropes Morgan into setting them up?

YES YOU CAN this sounds adorable and i love it pure fluff and baked goods coming right up! i hope you like it this is my first request and i'm kinda nervous

pairing: Spencer x sunshine!reader

contains: pure fluff, adorable flustered Spencer, another blink and you'll miss it Buffy reference

Lavender Roses | S.R.

Spencer sat at his desk, the stack of folders on it feeling as though each time he completed one another one is added. He takes a deep breath and leans back, taking his glasses off his face to massage the bridge of his nose. Most of the time he was glad to have a slow casework day but for some reason today was crawling by.

He placed his glasses back on his face and turned to resume to his work before he heard a soft voice. "Excuse me?" He swiveled in his chair and found that in front of him stood possibly prettiest person he's ever seen before carrying a couple of small plastic tubs. She was smiling slightly at him, her eyes sparkling even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bullpen. She wore a long-sleeved black dress with a white collar and a flared skirt and a pair of black Mary Janes. "Hello?" She asked again.

His eyes widened slightly and he remembered that she had been about to ask him something so he cleared his throat. "Oh, hi! Uh, m-may I have you? Uh, help. M-may I help you?" Spencer shook his head and nearly slapped his palm to his forehead but managed to refrain from doing so. His cheeks burned as he met her gaze again and was met with a smile so sweet that it would have made his knees buckle had he been standing.

"Yes, actually!" She responded, her smile growing wider. "I'm looking for Penelope Garcia's office? I need to drop these off for her." She held up the boxes, which upon further inspection held an assortment of cupcakes, brownies, and cookies in the very top one.

"Oh, oh yeah ! It's just, uh—it's r-right over—just turn around and—," he stammered, his cheeks burning more and more with each failed attempt to organize his racing thoughts so that they'd come out of his mouth fluently instead of in the word jumbles he was currently producing.

"Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, but you said you're looking for Penelope Garcia?" Derek Morgan swooped in, rescuing Spencer from further embarrassment. "Her office is right this way, I can take you to her." He flashed her one of his smooth smiles and placed a hand on her arm as he began to turn her in the right direction.

"Oh, thank you!" She said gratefully. Before Derek could lead her away she turned back to Spencer and opened the top container, lowering it in front of him. "Here, have a cookie as a thanks for helping me!"

"B-but I didn't even—," he began before being shushed by her in a joking manner, her index finger landing a mere centimeter in front of his lips.

"Uh-uh! I will hear none of that nonsense," she laughed, making his heart skip a beat or two. "You were kind to me so take a cookie."

"O-okay, if, uh, if you insist," he gave a nervous laugh of his own as he reached his hand in and grabbed the first cookie his fingers met. He quickly withdrew his hand and met her eyes once more. "Th-thank you!"

"You're welcome, handsome!" She chirped before letting Derek lead her to Garcia's office, leaving Spencer silently kicking himself for fumbling that interaction so thoroughly. He took a bite of the cookie and was met with the most amazing tasting treat he'd ever had as he went back to working on the pile of folders on his desk.

"Thank you for showing me to Penelope!" (Y/N) thanked the kind man, who had introduced himself as Derek Morgan. She had heard endless stories about him from Penelope so it was nice to put a face to the name. "What, no cookie for me?" He joked, right as Penelope opened the door.

"She better not give you one! These are for my party tonight!" She said immediately.

"Oh, it's fine, Pen, I made like 30 of these things, not to mention the brownies and cupcakes. Plus, I already gave one to your other coworker so it's only fair, I suppose," she opened the top container, allowing the man to pick a cookie.

"Thanks gorgeous," he winked and walked off, taking a bite of the cookie. "Mmm these are delicious!"

They walked into Penelope's office and she closed the door behind them as (Y/N) set the containers down on one of the few surfaces not littered with papers and/or computer equipment. Once her hands were free she hugged her friend and they began catching up. Eventually, (Y/N) couldn't help but ask about the young brunet agent with whom she had shared her first encounter.

"So Pen, who was that tall, handsome agent I met earlier?" She asked, feeling her cheeks burn as she blushed lightly.

"Oh, sweet cheeks, stay away from him! He's mine," Penelope joked back, nudging her friend lightly with her elbow.

"Oh no, not him. He was nice but before he led me to your office, I had asked another agent where to find you. He was younger, wearing glasses, closer to my age, and he had what looked like the softest brown hair and he got all cute and flustered," she gushed to her friend, not taking a single breath until she had finished and took in a large gulp of air.

"Wait wait wait, are you talking about Reid?" Penelope laughed, her hands flying up to her mouth. "Skinny guy, about 6'1", dresses like he shops with my grandpa?"

"Hey, I like the way he was dressed!" (Y/N) responded with a playfully indignant tone. "He looked very cute if you ask me. Truth be told that's why I offered him a cookie!"

As her friend was leaving, a plan started forming in Penelope Garcia's mind. Once (Y/N) was through the glass doors and in the elevator, she rushed over to Derek Morgan, sitting at his desk and working on a case file.

"Derek! Derek, I need to talk to you," she panted, slightly out of breath from her hurrying. "Come to my office with me." The two went to her office where she shut the door and hurriedly asked, "tell me about what you saw between (Y/N) and Reid!"

"Is that your friend from earlier, baby girl?" He asked, tilting his head to the side with an amused smile creeping on his lips.

"Yes and she spent about 20 minutes gushing over him, Derek," Penelope laughed. "She is smitten and their interaction couldn't have been all that long. So, tell me, you beautiful man, what. Did. You. See?"

"Okay, okay!" He put his hands in the air and gave a good natured chuckle. "She walked up to him and got his attention, he fumbled asking her if he could help her with something, she asked how to find you, and he tried to tell her but it sounded like he was about to have a stroke so I stepped in and offered to show her to you. She offered him a cookie as a thanks for his effort and then we went to your office."

"Nothing else?" She pressed, trying to get every last bit of information that she could.

"Uh, she called him handsome, I think?" He added, trying to sneak a second cookie but being met with a slap on the wrist from Penelope.

"Okay so I have a plan," she said, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in closer to Derek. "But I'm going to need your help."

Spencer sat in the café Derek had told him to go to, a single lavender rose in front of him. He had been told to look for a girl wearing a light purple beret, but no such girl had arrived in the 15 minutes he'd been waiting. He checked his watch while his heart beat rapidly against his chest. Why had he agreed to a blind date in the first place? Logically he knew Derek wasn't like the kids he went to school with growing up, he would never intentionally hurt his friends like that, but a part of Spencer's mind was telling him that this was all some elaborate prank that all his coworkers would be laughing about on Monday.

In the midst of his thought spiral he failed to notice that someone had approached his table until he heard a soft throat clearing from in front of him. He started and looked up, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red as he met the twinkling eyes that have been plaguing his thoughts for the passed week.

"Dr. Reid?" She asked with a hopeful look on her face. "I don't think we were every properly introduced the other day. I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N). May I join you?"

"Oh! Uh, um, s-sure! Please do," he stuttered, realizing that she was wearing a lavender colored beret that from the looks of it was handmade with a lot of care. "I, uh, I'm Spencer." He smiled at her as she sat across from him in the empty chair.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Spencer," she responded with a soft giggle that made Spencer feel like he was about to melt.

"I, uh, I brought you this," he told her as he reached for the rose in front of him, reaching his hand out over the table to hand it to her. Her cheeks tinged an adorable shade of pink as she reached for it.

"I don't know if I've ever seen a rose this shade before," she whispered, twirling it around in her fingers as her eyes widened in awe.

"Different colored roses carry different meanings," He began explaining his thought process behind the particular color he had picked for her. "Lavender colored roses usually represent enchantment, admiration, and carry an air of mystery or mysticism, so I figured it would be a perfect color for the first time meeting you." He felt his cheeks burn as he finished his explanation.

"That's incredibly sweet of you, Spencer," she smiled at him softly, reaching forward to put her hand on top of his. At this point he swore his heart was going to explode. "And even though we've technically met before it also has the added benefit of matching my hat quite well."

"Yes, yes it does," he smiled back as a warm feeling bloomed and spread throughout his chest.

"So what do the other colors of roses signify?" She asked, tilting her head and listening eagerly with the very same smile that had made him tumble head over heels for her during their first encounter as he began explaining each and every color of rose and their multitude of meanings. Not once did she roll her eyes or sigh from boredom. As the night drew on and the conversation flowed Spencer knew that a lavender rose was indeed a perfect choice since what they really symbolized was love at first sight.

[deunmiu-dessie]

sorry, was thinking about doing domestic things with fiancé!ghost, like making cookies and him messing up something in the process 💀--- cause even though ghost is good at most things, this man does not have a cooking bone in his body, maybe he can make a few simple meals but for the most part ( something you taught him btw ), he'll leave the meals and meal prep to you ( besides, he enjoys ur cooking ). so when you pull him to the kitchen and ask him to make cookies with you, he's reluctant but of course he agrees, ( he'd burn the world if you asked ) though, making cookies is a lot harder than he expected😭

"si, the butter--- it's burning."

your fiancé, always standing so tall and imposing, is slightly hunched over the stove wearing your pink apron that you had 'forced' ( wouldn't call it that since he literally bent down so you could put it on him but... ) over his head. despite him being so focused on the task at hand, he'd ended up burning the butter rather than browning it.

"ah fuckin' hell."

he stirs it for one moment more before looking down at you, "y'sure we can't use it?" he mellows at your beaming smile, deflating as you shake your head.

"simon, baby, it's basically tar."

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ (rehehehehe how simon looks most days when youre teaching him to bake.)

connected with this post!

[tempobaekh]

Light in the darkness

Pairings: grumpy!bucky x sunshine!nurse!f!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, a bit of asshole bucky, hurt to comfort, kind of enemies to lovers but it’s mostly buck, no reader physical description so can be read as any appearance, female reader

A/N: got inspired to write this one after i came across @apparentlytheproblem account and enemies to lovers prompt list. there is a lot of good stuff there so i thank her for motivating me to write this, I used some of the prompts from that list, they will be highlighted in the fic. also got the trope inspiration from @buckyalpine (I absolutely love your writing) this fic here I absolutely love it, with perfect amount of angst and cuteness please go read it!! anyways enough of my yapping, enjoy reading!!<3 (also please listen to these two in this order for more feels, I myself was listening to them while writing this and omfg it got me in the feeeels)

The infirmary of the Avengers compound is a well-lit, sterile environment, but you've managed to make it warm with your presence.

Cute little potted plants all over that were practically your babies, small fidgeting gadgets for anyone to fidget with (particularly for Bruce and Tony), small snacks placed in different containers scattered around the infirmary (frequently emptied by Tony), and a few stuffed animals placed here and there, all meant to make the space less intimidating.

You’ve always been a naturally optimistic person, someone who sees the best in everyone and everything. The Avengers compound, with its high-stakes missions and often tense atmosphere, was a perfect place for you to share your sunny disposition.

The team appreciated it—your laughter, your kindness, your unwavering positivity. They said you were a breath of fresh air, a light in the often dark world they navigated.

Every day, you greet the team with a cheerful smile, your laughter echoing through the corridors like a soothing melody. Everyone seems to love you—everyone except for Bucky Barnes.

From the moment Bucky set foot in the compound, he knew he was out of place. Haunted by his past, he kept his distance from everyone, preferring the silence and solitude of his own company, he mostly stuck to Steve and would occasionally have a Sam-sized problem hanging behind him.

He barely speaks to anyone, and when he does, it’s usually to snap or grumble. With you, he’s even worse. There’s an edge to his voice, a coldness in his eyes that seems to cut through your sunny disposition like a knife.

When he first saw you, with your bright smile and cheerful demeanor, he felt a strange pang in his chest—a mix of longing and irritation.

You were everything he felt he could never be again: light-hearted, carefree, a beacon of hope in a world that still felt foreign and hostile to him.

A world where he was still hated by some- or many.

Every time you laughed, it reminded him of what he had lost, of the darkness that had claimed his tortured and scarred soul. He hated that feeling, that reminder, and by extension, he hated that you were the one to evoke it.

From the moment you met him, he seemed determined to extinguish your light. His coldness was a stark contrast to your warmth, his gruff demeanor a perpetual challenge to your cheerful one.

At first, you chalked it up to his history, his need for time to adjust and heal. You were patient, giving him space while still trying to make him feel welcome.

Every day, you made small efforts to connect with him. You brought him coffee with extra sugar, hoping the gesture would soften his grumpy exterior. You cracked light-hearted jokes, trying to coax a smile out of him. You even complimented his metal arm, not out of pity, but genuine admiration. Yet, every attempt was met with indifference or a sharp retort.

Your jokes were often greeted with a curt nod or a dismissive grunt, and your compliments seemed to make him even more uncomfortable, his eyes narrowing as if questioning your sincerity.

Despite your efforts Bucky kept his distance and rejected. When you brought him coffee with extra sugar, he grumbled about preferring it black.

“I prefer my coffee black,” he would say, barely looking at you as he set the cup aside, not noticing the hurt look on your face.

When you made light-hearted jokes, he responded with curt nods or dismissive remarks. When you complimented his metal arm, he saw it as pity, a reminder of his brokenness. Your persistent cheerfulness was like a spotlight on his scars, and he resented you for it.

But deep down, Bucky knew that his anger wasn't really directed at you. It was aimed at himself, at the man he used to be and the man he thought he could never become again.

Your presence forced him to confront emotions he had buried deep within himself—emotions he didn't know how to handle. Every time you tried to break through his defenses, it was like a chisel chipping away at the walls he had built around his heart, and it terrified him.

Each brush-off, each cold response, chipped away at your resolve, leaving you more confused and hurt.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung; it was the feeling that you were the only one he treated this way.

Everyone else seemed to get along with him fine, or at least, they didn’t bear the brunt of his sharp edges. You couldn’t understand why you were the exception, why he seemed to harbor a special kind of disdain just for you.

You tried not to let it show, maintaining your sunny facade for the sake of the team. But inside, every encounter with Bucky left a small, invisible wound.

You would smile through the pain, and laugh through the hurt, but the weight of his rejection grew heavier with each passing day.

Nights were the hardest, lying in bed replaying your interactions, wondering what you had done to earn his ire. Wondering and thinking where you went wrong, blaming everything on yourself.

And yet, despite the pain, you found yourself drawn to him. Maybe it was the challenge he represented, the mystery of his cold exterior, and the glimpses of vulnerability you occasionally saw.

There were moments, fleeting and rare, where you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes—a hint of sorrow, a flicker of regret. Those moments made you wonder about the man beneath the armor, the soul behind the scowl.

Gradually, your frustration and sadness turned into something more complex.

You began to care for him, despite his harshness.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was upset, the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, the way he fiddled with either his dog tags around his neck or his sleeve when he would get anxious, the way the sound of any whirring machine close to him would subtly make him jump.

You saw the pain he carried, the ghosts that haunted him, and your heart ached for him.

You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to show him that he didn’t have to face his demons alone.

But every time you tried, he pushed you away, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Your feelings grew in the quiet moments, in the way you found yourself thinking about him even when he wasn’t around, in the way your heart raced at the sound of his voice, even when it was laced with irritation.

You realized you were falling for him, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm’s length.

You were falling for James Buchanan Barnes.

And he hated you.

One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, you’re restocking the infirmary when the door slams open. You jump, nearly dropping a box of gauze.

When Bucky stumbled into the infirmary, bleeding and in pain, he didn't want to admit to himself why he came to you. He could have gone to anyone else, but something—an instinct, a need—drove him to seek you out.

Bucky stumbles in, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers. His face is pale, eyes dark with pain and something else—frustration? Anger? It’s hard to tell.

“Barnes!” you exclaim, rushing to his side. “What happened?”

A strange mix of emotions flooded you. Concern for his well-being, of course, but also a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the moment he finally let you in.

He grunts, shaking his head as if to dismiss your concern. “Just patch me up.”

You guide him to a bed, your hands surprisingly steady given the state he’s in. You quickly gather the necessary supplies, your mind racing with questions.

Why did he come to you? He usually avoids you like the plague, very often going to Helen instead of you no matter the severity of the injury.

As you begin to clean his wound, he hisses, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your tone soft.

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those intense baby-blue eyes. It’s unnerving, but you refuse to let it shake you. Instead, you focus on your work, your movements gentle yet efficient.

Bucky watched you work with a mixture of frustration and awe. Your hands were gentle, your touch soothing, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel vulnerable in your presence.

As you stitch him up, the silence between you grows heavier, filled with unspoken words and unexpressed emotions.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You wrap up the last of his wound and look him straight in the eye. “Bucky, why do you hate me so much?” your voice trembled with frustration and hurt.

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your question and his response took you by surprise. “I don’t hate you.”

You blink for a second and then scoff, shaking your head, trying to process his words. “You could’ve fooled me. You’ve been nothing but cold and an asshole since the day we met. I just don’t get it. Everyone else likes me, but you. You go out of your way to avoid me like I'm some plague! You always brush me off rudely and call me a bother when I try speaking to you only to speak with the others like it's nothing! You can't even give me the decency of respect, you pretend that I don't even exist!."

You stop, realizing you have almost gone to shouting, and take a deep breath in.

"Why?" your voice is quiet and broken, hurt and horse. Your eyes glazing with unshed tears,

Bucky felt a surge of conflicting emotions. He wanted to push you away, to keep you at a distance where you couldn't hurt him. Where he couldn't hurt you with his broken soul, and the demons from his past.

But the heart-shattering sadness on your usually lit-up face, made him also want to pull you closer, to let you in and see the parts of him he kept hidden. It was a battle between his fear and his longing, and for the first time, he felt the fear of losing.

Specifically, losing you.

“I’m not...used to feeling this way, okay?” he snaps, the admission seeming to cost him. His jaw clenches, and he looks away, refusing to meet your gaze.

For the first time, you saw something other than anger in his eyes.

Vulnerability.

Fear.

“Feeling what way?” you press, your voice shaking slightly, your frustration bubbling over. “What did I ever do to you?”

He’s silent for a long moment, the tension in the room almost suffocating. Finally, he lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his emotions pressing down on him. “I feel the opposite of hate...towards you,” he admitted, his voice raw and honest.

The revelation left you breathless. All this time, you thought he despised you, but in reality, he was struggling with feelings he didn’t know how to handle. Your heart ached for him, for the battles he fought within himself.

He watched your eyes widen in surprise, your mind trying to process his words.

The words hang in the air, and you can hardly believe your ears. “You...what?” your voice barely a whisper.

Bucky turns to face you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and determination. “You heard me. I don’t hate you., far from it. You’re always so...bright and happy. It messes with my head. Makes me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. You make me realize that I can feel a romantic attraction towards someone, you make me realize that I can have some goodness in life. You make me feel want. To want something and not feel selfish.”

You blink, trying to process his confession. “You...want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Without hesitation, he answers, “You know I do.”

A slow smile spread across your face, and for the first time in a long while, Bucky felt a glimmer of hope.

The weight of his confession settled over you, bringing with it a mixture of relief and tenderness. You smiled a slow, genuine smile that lit up your face. “Such a pretty liar, mhmm. And here I stressed over that you hated me.” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, his usual gruff demeanor softening.

He grumbles, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Shut up and kiss me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a sweet, tender kiss. It’s hesitant at first as if you’re both testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, the pent-up emotions of the past months pouring out in that one perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, the hidden feelings, the pain and hope intertwined.

When you leaned in and kissed him, it was like a dam breaking. All the emotions he had bottled up for so long—fear, longing, hope—flooded out in that one perfect moment.

Your lips were soft and warm against his, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt at peace.

As the kiss deepened, Bucky knew that things wouldn’t be easy. He still had a long way to go, and there were still demons he needed to face. But with you by his side, he felt a renewed strength, a reason to keep fighting.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, Bucky felt something he hadn’t felt in years: happiness. Maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his past mistakes. With you, he could be the man he once was—the man he wanted to be.

You pulled back, breathless and smiling, and a little dazed, you knew that this was just the beginning. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, you felt like you had a chance to break through his walls, to reach the man behind the mask.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “Maybe you’re not such a grump after all.”

Bucky smirks, a rare but genuine smile lighting up his face. “Don’t push your luck.”

You giggle, the sound like music to his ears.

As you finish bandaging his wounds, the atmosphere between you has shifted. There’s a new understanding, a connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe things won’t be easy, and maybe Bucky will always be a bit of a grump, but you’re determined to be his sunshine, to bring light into his dark world.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you.

Bucky's confession had changed everything. In the days following that night in the infirmary, his demeanor towards you began to shift.

The once icy wall he maintained seemed to melt slightly, and while he wasn't exactly warm, there was a newfound softness in his eyes when he looked at you.

Still, the past months of his coldness and hostility left a lingering tension between you, a wound that needed healing.

You knew that a kiss and a confession would not be enough to cure his long-standing hostility toward you; you knew you both needed to have a conversation.

One evening, you stayed late at the compound, finishing up some paperwork in the infirmary. The sun had long set, casting the room in a dim, serene glow from the soft lights overhead.

You were engrossed in your work when you heard a knock at the door. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there, looking hesitant and unsure. Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anticipation and wariness flooding you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside.

“Hey there you,” you replied softly, setting your pen down. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. “I need to talk to you.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the white chair, that currently had a cute Dumbo plush placed on it. Bucky grabbed the plush before sitting down and placed it in his lap, fidgeting with the ears, his large frame taking up more space than usual, his presence filling the room.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see he was struggling to find the right words.

“I’ve been an asshole,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

You watched him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Bucky-”

He held up a hand, stopping you. “Please, let me finish, I've been wanting to say this for a while because you deserve an apology. You’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me, and I repaid you with coldness and cruelty. I pushed you away because...because I was scared. Scared of what I was feeling, scared of getting close to someone again. I know my behavior is not to be excused but I'm being honest doll." he pleaded.

You swallowed hard, the raw honesty in his words touching something deep inside you. “I get it, Bucky. But it still hurt.”

“I know,” he said, his voice pained.

He stepped towards you, gently taking your gentle hands into his calloused ones and continuing to speak while tracing patterns on your skin with his thumb, the gesture comforting him. “And I’m so sorry for that. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. What I can do is promise to make it up to you. I want to show you that you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a tentative hope blooming within you. “How do you plan to do that?”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. “By being there for you, by treating you the way you deserve to be treated. I want to make you happy, sweetness. I want to be the man you see in me, the man you’ve been so kind and patient with.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity and determination in his voice. “Oh Buck…”

“I crave you, doll,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I crave your touch, your smile, your laughter. Every part of you. I’ve tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore. I need you.”

The intensity of his confession left you breathless. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I need to know you mean it,” you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt.

He covered your hand with his, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll spend every day of my life proving it to you if I have to.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. More intense than the last one. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up emotions and longing that had been building between you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You really want this? You really want me?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “You have no idea how much.”

A slow smile spread across your face, a mixture of relief and joy washing over you. “Well then, show me, Barnes.”

He grinned, a rare and genuine smile that made your heart soar. “With pleasure.”

He kissed you again, this time with even more passion and intensity. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, any distance in between being excruciating. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured all your emotions into the kiss. It was a promise, a beginning, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly hopeful.

As the kiss ended, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “You won’t regret this, doll. I promise.”

“I believe you,” you whispered, feeling the truth of his words in your heart.

The moment of intimacy is shattered by the sound of cheering and whooping from the doorway. Startled, you both turn to see Tony, Natasha, Steve, and Sam standing there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous teenagers who had just witnessed their friends’ first kiss.

“Finally!” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I thought I was going to have to script it out for you two. Turns out Terminator actually has the balls to confess." he snickered, seizing a snack packet of dried blueberries and munching on them.

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Took you long enough, Barnes. We were beginning to think you’d never make a move.” the redhead pauses and winks at you.

Steve steps forward, a proud smile on his face. “About time, punk. I knew you had it in you.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “And here I was thinking the Winter Soldier was all cold and no heart. Looks like our sunshine melted the ice.”

You feel your face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and amusement washing over you. Bucky, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Do you guys mind?”

Tony steps forward, still grinning and munching on his snack. “Not at all. We’ve been waiting for this moment for months. I mean, the tension was practically killing us.”

Natasha nods in agreement. “It was like watching a bad rom-com where the leads are too stubborn to admit they like each other.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head but there’s a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Well, enjoy the show. It’s over now.”

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it’s over. I think it’s just getting started.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your fun. Now, can we have a moment?”

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll leave you lovebirds alone. But don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

He turns to you and points at the packet in his hand, "Also thanks for this sweets," and struts out.

As the group begins to disperse, Natasha gives you a wink. “We’re happy for you, babe. You deserve it.”

Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder. “Good job, Buck.”

Once they’re gone, you turn back to Bucky, who’s shaking his head, a look of exasperated affection on his face. “I swear, they’re worse than a bunch of kids.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think it’s sweet. They care about us.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Yeah, well, as long as I get you to myself now.”

You lean in, brushing your lips against his. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

As you kiss him again, the echoes of your friends’ teasing fade away, leaving just the two of you in the warm, comforting glow of newfound love.

With that, you knew that this was the start of something new, something beautiful. It wouldn’t be easy, but together, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And with Bucky by your side, you knew you could handle anything.

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