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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Mission Control 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You don’t know when he stopped, you’re just happy it’s over. For now. You know better than to think it won’t happen again.

His shadow moves around, vague and ominous. You lay where he left you. The mattress feels thin beneath you, your body sunk from the force of his appetites. Your body aches as his assault scars you more than skin deep. Bitemarks and bruises pulses as your insides knot and tug in ceaseless horror.

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You listen to him shift around; it sounds more as if the house shifts around him. He leaves the bedroom and you roll onto your side with a rattling effort. You whine and tuck your hand between your thighs, raw from his incessant pounding.

It’s like something in him broke. There was no control in what he did. No restraint or relent. He is more than inhuman, he is monstrous.

When he returns, a grunt crackles from him. He comes to the bed and it dips with his weight. He grabs your shoulder and forces you onto your back. You brace yourself for more.

His cowl is gone. His brows arch and the scar down the side of his face pales with the strain. He raises his hand and you wince. He tilts his head then shakes it as he shows you a handful of the silver packets. You blink in confusion.

You take a breath and try to speak. Your throat is brittle and dry. You clear it and push a hoarse whisper, “not hungry.”

He tuts and drops the packets, keeping one in his hand. He points to the label. Day 2 – Dinner. It’s still sealed. He tosses it and takes another, once more tapping the slanted lettering. You think you know what he’s saying.

You hug yourself and swallow, trying to wet your tongue. “I wasn’t hungry. Stomach hurt.”

He looks down and sifts through the packages. He turns them over and his forehead wrinkles. He gathers them all and carries them away.

You stare after him as he stomps out of the room. You uncross your arms and press your hands to the bed. You sit up and look down at the remnants of the nightgown. You free your arms and bring your knees up to hug them. You whimper at the friction between your legs.

He comes back. His hair is greasy and some has a red tint at the tips. You don’t want to think of what that is. His neck shows a layer of filth and his clothes are stained and dusty. You look down and find much of it smeared on your skin.

He marches over to you. You cower and he stops at the edge of the bed. He raises his hand slowly, as if to coax you. You stare as he holds it open to you. Your insides throb and you take his hand, not wanting to provoke another episode.

He leads you from the bed and takes you through the front room into the bathroom. He puts you by the sink and turns away. You shiver, trying to shield your naked body with only your arms. He bends over the tub and rinses it out then puts the stopper in place.

He faces you and works at unstrapping his body armor. You stare at him, legs trembling, and move to lean on the sink to keep from keeling over. He watches you with a dimple in his forehead.

He undresses, piece by piece, until he’s naked. You stay as you are until he grabs you. He drags you to the tub with him. You step in at his insistence and he angles you around. He lowers himself first then brings you down over him. The water laps between your feet as it fills the porcelain.

You can’t relax, even as the heat soothes your tortured muscles. With him so close, you can’t ever let your guard down again.

He brings his hand up your thigh and around your hip. He tickles your stomach and spreads his hand over one side of your chest. You shiver and steel yourself. He toys with you, not unkindly, and you brace the sides of the tub.

As the water reaches the brim, he sits you up with him to shut it off. He reclines again, hooking his other arm around your middle. You like this softness less than his rough return. You can handle the cruelty, you expect it, but these moments confound you. It’s like a game you can’t win.

Silence steams with the water. You don’t move. You can’t. You have to do something. Say something. But what?

“I’m sorry,” you eke out. You’re not sure why you say that, but you are sorry. That moment flashes in your head, when you tried to use his name. That seemed to set him off. “Thank you for the food and the wood. I’m sorry I didn’t eat it all.”

He growls but doesn’t say anything. He shifts and nuzzles the top of your head, his hot breath pluming over your scalp. The rigidity slowly seeps from him, thought that underlying stiffness remains.

“I tried to keep it clean. I didn’t know... what else to do. I... I don’t know why I’m talking. I’ll-- I’ll stop,” you exhale and stare at the corroding mouth of the faucet.

He drags his hand up from your chest and cups your chin. You twitch and his thumb stretches up to toy with your lower lip. Your grimace and let him poke around. He huffs in frustration then with two fingers, moves both your lips. He traces his touch down to your throat.

“You want me to talk?” You ask.

He pushes his nose firmly against your crown. You take that as affirmation. What do you talk about? You glance around and search for anything. You’ve been so bored and yet you can’t think of much.

“My... my grandma had a tub like this,” you utter awkwardly. “It was her favourite place. She would read in there for hours. Funny, she... she wasn’t much of a kid person so we usually just did our own thing.” You ramble as your voice cracks, “and... we broke her favourite clock. It had a glass cover over it... I... just a silly memory.”

He hums and caresses your cheek. You gulp again and hold back a quiver. If you can keep him calm for just a little, then you’ll find something to talk about. You just need to think about anything but the here and now.

#captain hydra #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve roges x reader #captain america #mission control #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #drabble #series

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changenameno · 5 months ago

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Shower Head PART 2

(Complete, link to the first part down below ⬇️ )

Summary: You thought you were already ‘finished’. But Sy has other plans. You’re not only going to get dirtier, a certain hotel roommate might crash your bath time. But maybe you don’t mind?

Paring: Syverson x Fem. Reader, Walter Marshall x Fem. Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, daddy kink, size kink, p in v, bathtub sex, brief voyeurism, pet names, praise kink, spanking (like one time), rough sex, anal sex, overwhelmed reader, penetration in both holes at once, threesome

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: Again, just VERY shameless smut. Writing this second part because @uunotheangel asked (I hope you’ll like it?) and also I can’t get Sy out of my mind among someone else…

Any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Thank you and enjoy ❤️✨

! Neither Syverson nor Walter are my creation!

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(In case you’ve missed PART 1)

PART 2

As Sy stepped into the bathroom of his own hotel room, you noticed that it seemed a lot more spacious than yours. There were two sinks, along with a big bathtub and a shower. That made you frown, why was his room so much better than yours?

It didn’t escape his notice that you angrily glared about the room, he chuckled, “What’s the matter, sugar?” You immediately turned your head to glare at him instead, as he very well knew, what the matter was.

“Alright in my defence, I didn’t book the room. Not payin’ for it either. S’ supposed to be a work event.”

That confused you further, so you leaned back a little in his arms to be able to look at his face better, “What do you mean work event?”

“Sort of like team building or somethin’.” Apparently that was all you were going to get, because Sy leaned down over the tub to put the stopper in and then turned the water on.

He sat down on the toilet seat with you on his lap, waiting for the water to fill the tub. You were straddling his meaty thighs.

In any other situation you might have begun shivering but not with him as you were sufficiently warmed by his body alone. He was a furnace, which certainly came in handy right now. You scooted a little closer to his chest, enjoying his warmth, burring your head into his neck.

Sy’s hand was lazily stroking up and down your spine, while the other rested on your ass, pressing you against him. You signed, placing soft kisses below his ear, when you suddenly noticed that something else began poking into your rear.

A little exasperated you lifted your head, staring into his sparkling, blue eyes as he smirked, answering your unasked question, “What can I say? I’ve got a naked, little minx straddlin’ my lap, what’d you do?”

That last part of the question didn’t make a lot of sense to you, until another voice sounded from behind. Making you whirl around, staring at the intruder as he playfully replied, “Well I’d invite my mate to join. Wouldn’t you?”

You were so taken aback by the sudden appearance of the other man, you didn’t even try hiding your naked body from his curious eyes instead you just gaped at him. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt and blue jeans, burly arms crossed in front of his broad chest, as he leant against the doorway. His dark curls were falling into his face, sly smirk surrounded by a beard.

His deep blue eyes rested on your face, seemingly waiting for a reaction from you. But you were still preoccupied with wrapping your mind around the situation, frozen on Sy’s lap indefinitely.

Not until he softly bounced you up on his lap did you finally react to the second man, stuttering out, “Wh-what, who…who are…?”

They had the audacity to laugh at your adorably flummoxed state. At last Sy answered amused, “That’s Walter. He’s a colleague of mine and coincidentally my best friend. Also here for the team buildin’. Didn’t I mention that I share I room with him?”

Your eyes flew to his, raising your brow, sarcastically replying,” Oh yeah. Of course, you’ve mentioned Walter, right after you locked the bathroom door apparently.”

“You really are a little minx, aren’t you?” When you turned back to Walter, he winked at you, still very much amused, then he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Your eyes were carefully fixed on his approaching figure. When he was in arms reach he stopped, squatting down in front of the toilet, looking up at you “But to get serious for a second. I’d very much like to join you for a bath. Would that be alright with you, darling?”

His whole demeanour was so trustworthy, you felt yourself nodding, wanting nothing more than this other handsome man to join you and Sy. As he got up, he shook his head lightly, sharing a look with Syverson, before glancing back at you, “Ah no darling, I’m afraid we’d need verbal confirmation going forward.”

Because you stayed silent, Sy added, “Could ya do that for us, sugar?”

In your daze you nearly nodded again, before catching the movement and replying out loud this time,” Ye-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I…I’d like Walter to join us, please.”

“Mmh what a polite, little kitten we’ve got ourselves here.”

Walter stood up, turning to the tub and shut the water off, as he deemed it full enough, especially for three people. Sy bounced you up on his thighs again to shift your attention back to him, whispering in your ear “Walter is gonna get a little warm with all these clothes on, don’t ya think? Wanna help him, love?”

You bit your lip, slowly sliding down from his lap, turning around to face Walter, though hesitating a moment too long. As a huge paw slapped your ass suddenly, making you jump and shriek at the stinging pain, “Get goin’, daddy is watin’, sugar.”

Heat spread through your entire body at Sy’s commanding husk and his choice of words had you swallowing thickly. Walter gazed hungrily at your naked body, admiring your beautiful form.

Standing before him, made you realize that he too, was quite tall. You let your hands glide over his arms, up to his shoulders, staying there and waiting for him to initiate the next move. You didn’t have to wait long, as he smiled and dipped his head down, stopping a hair’s breadth of your lips. Overcome with a deep seated desire you quickly pressed yours to his. Walter’s hands landed on your waist, drawing you closer, reciprocating the kiss. Groaning when he felt your soft skin beneath his fingertips.

His kiss felt different to Sy’s, slower somehow but just as hungry. Then his tongue slipped out, gliding over your lower lip begging for entrance, you moaned, letting him in. Your tongues fought for a moment, though he won, dominating and deepening the kiss.

When you two separated, a loud splash made you turn. Sy had entered the tub, grunting deeply as the warm water surrounded his body, his delicious deep rumble making your nipples harden. As if on command, your hands moved on their own, grabbing onto the rough fabric of Walter’s sweatshirt and started to pull it up. He lifted his arms, assisting you. Slowly his chest came into view, it was covered in dark curly hair which lead down to a significantly tented crotch. He encouraged you, by placing your hands on the waistband of his pants, “Don’t be shy, darling. Go on, open it.”

You needn’t be told twice, swiftly opening his fly, fingers disappearing into his boxers, dragging the remaining coverage down his painfully thick thighs. Walter’s stiff cock sprang free, slapping against his navel. Your eyes widened as he stepped out of the jeans. Walter’s cock wasn’t as thick as Sy’s but his was definitely a bit longer. Thinking about taking them both, had your cunt fluttering so much, you were convinced your juices were running down your thighs by now.

Walter’s hand took your smaller one, leading you to the tub, and ever being the gentleman helping you step over the rim and inside. Sy had been watching you the whole time, stretching out his own hand to pull you down into the water and onto his lap once more, letting his hands rest on your hips. You moaned when your body was covered by the warm water, submerged to your bellybutton. You straddled his thighs, trapping his monstrous cock between your bodies.

Small waves rippled the surface as Walter joined you. Even with you three inside the tub, surprisingly no water sloshed over the edge.

Walter had kneeled down behind you, his hard rod insistently pressing against your arse. Hands touching your upper arms before wondering more to the front, cupping your boobs, kneading them roughly and using the momentum to pull you more against his chest. Mewling you tipped your head back, arms wrapping around Walter’s neck.

“That’s it, such a good girl. Just relax, darling.”

You briefly wondered why he’d said to relax, but then you felt Sy’s cockhead rubbing through your folds. This time he shoved you down, driving inside to the hilt, making you cry out at the sudden fullness. If he hadn’t fucked you already, he surely would have torn you apart with his fat cock. You squirmed on his lap, trying to lift your hips, as your pussy had trouble to relax and accommodate him.

He grunted deeply, “Sh, sh be good for daddy. Breathe, breathe. Yeah just like that”. You ceased your squirming, actively letting out the breath you were holding, somehow sinking even deeper down his length, settling against his balls. “That’s it, atta girl.”

Walter couldn’t hold back any longer, you looked too delicious, mewling as your pussy was stretched out so thoroughly, so he began moving his hips, rubbing himself against your ass, nibbling at your earlobe.

Gruff voice, growling,” Can’t wait much longer. Sorry, darling. Think you can take me in that delectable little pucker of yours?”

Even though Sy’s big cock already felt like a lot on his own, you really wanted Walter’s inside you as well, craving to be filled by both men. Imagining the way they’d stuff you so perfectly, it made your mouth water and your head bob wildly in agreement.

Slap.

“Ouch,” you howled as Walter had slapped your right tit, skin tingling. Your traitorous pussy clenched around Sy’s throbbing cock inside you, though you still whined half-heartedly, “Argh, what was that for?”

Sy huskily answered, “What did we say about verbal confirmation, sugar?”

You understood now. “Oh, erm… ‘m sorry daddy,” you apologised, blinking up at Walter. Who growled, repeating his previous question more urgently this time, “Your ass ready to take me now?”

Knowing it would antagonise him further, you slowly circled your hips, grinding against him teasingly, “Yes daddy. Please, need you inside...”

His deep blue eyes, held a storm of desire inside as he cursed, “Fuck, you’re too exquisite for your own good, love.”

He placed his large hand on your shoulder blade, pushing you forward so your rear end was out of the water and you were laying chest to chest with Sy. Who in turn, groaned as the movement had him slide against your gummy walls. You had wrapped your arms around Sy’s neck, head hanging low, lips grazing his ear lightly, as that was more comfortable in the new position.

Walter’s free hand had grabbed his cock, placing the head against your puckered rim, beginning to push inside. The warm water had helped you relax, but you weren’t very prepared for his size. You whimpered as he slowly filled you. When you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, pleasure dwindling into pain, a rough thumb began rubbing your clit. Making your hips buck forward, at the sharp lightning of pleasure cursing through you. Someone’s hands immediately flew to your hips to hold you still.

Panting loudly, Walter pressed out,” Hell, you’re so fucking tight, not sure I’ll fit.”

Sy continued expertly petting your little pearl, though adding earnestly, “Mmh yeah wait, pull back out. I-…” Protesting vehemently, you interrupted him with a loud mewl. “N-no I…I can take it…don’t stop!”

He chuckled,” Appreciate your enthusiasm, sugar. But-…” You interrupted him again, pleading eyes locking onto his, as you whined louder when you felt Walter pull back, “No! No pl-please, I want it. I can take it…”

Sy’s gaze softened even more as he tried to calm you down, “Love, relax. I’m not sayin’ no. I’m just sayin’ not like this, we need lube.”

That instantly made you feel better, because you had previously believed they wanted to stop entirely, and that had put you in a bit of a frenzy, as you didn’t want to stop. Breathing coming easier as Walter had pulled out completely by now. You were shocked that you hadn’t noticed how tightly wound your body had become because of the second large intrusion. Very thankful that they’d looked out for you, caring about your wellbeing.

Sy’s hand stroked over your cheek, “Better isn’t it?”

You breathed back,” Yeah.”

Walter declared, “Be right back.” And with that he left the tub. You laid your head onto Sy’s chest, watching his retreat, focusing in on his dripping wet body or more truthfully his juicy ass.

“You alright, sugar? We can stop if it’s too much.”

You lifted your head to be able to peer up at him, met with a very concerned face. Smiling reassuringly you answered, “I’m fine.” As he only raised his brow sceptically, you added, “Promise. I feel very cared for by you two.” You saw he wanted to protest, so you leaned up, pulling him in for a kiss to shut him up. He seemed to relax, as did you, very content with where the evening was headed now.

Just as you two separated, Walter returned bottle in hand, pulling the bathroom door closed behind him, for the second time this evening. He quickly made his way over and stepped into the water, sighing at the temperature change.

Kneeling behind you once more, his hand grabbed your chin, turning it gently to gaze at your face, “Are you sure you want to continue? We can stop anytime.”

Warmth pooled in your belly at the gentleness with which they handled you. Beaming at him, “Yes I’m sure and I want to continue, please.” He searched your face for a moment, then nodded, “Alright, darling.”

You couldn’t help but squirm happily on Sy’s lap, turning your head back to him. Without warning Sy lifted him, and therefore you, out of the water, sitting down on the generous edge of the bathtub, leaning his back against the wall. Hissing as the cool tiles touched his back.

His hands rearranged you a bit, so you straddled his thighs like before, but he’d spread his legs further apart this time, giving Walter the space he needed. Which he immediately acted on, rising out of the water as well, stepping so close to you Water from his body started dripping down onto yours. Teasingly tickling down your spine.

Walter licked over his lips, taking in the erotic scene in front of him, your knees spread wide, ass enticingly calling to him, as you wiggled on Sy’s lap impatiently. Laughing quietly at your eagerness, he opened the bottle of lube, applying a generous amount to his angrily throbbing cock. Sliding his hand up and down for good measure, enjoying the two pairs of eyes that rested on him.

Until Sy grunted, “Get on with it. That sweet cunt is squeezin’ me like crazy and I really wanna start moving.”

Walter’s fingers landed on your hole, starting to lubricate it. Sliding up and down, then carefully pressing two long, wet fingers inside. This time it didn’t burn, even when he pushed in to his knuckles, instead your own juices actually ran down your spread thighs, dripping onto Sy’s balls, as he still was buried to the hilt.

The second Walter began scissoring his fingers, moving them in and out, you clammed down hard on both ends, coming unprompted with a loud moan.

Sy’s hands tightened on your hips, knuckles turning white. Walter cursed, “Fu-fuck. What a good girl, coming on daddy’s fingers like that.” You just moaned some more as he kept fingering you for a while longer.

When he finally pulled them out, something much bigger pressed to your rosebud. You felt him entering you, pressing deeper and deeper inside. All three of you panting loudly. Your fingers dug into Sy’s shoulders, head falling back onto Walter’s chest, as you were certain his cock was breaching new territory. Reaching so far inside, you were surprised your belly wasn’t protruding.

A loud groan later, and he was finally completely inside, “Arrgh you feel amazing. Gripping me so tight…”

You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to, only concentrating on relaxing your muscles around both their cocks. The sudden pleasurable taps to your clit igniting your body, definitely helped. Sy’s rough thumb was dancing through your weeping pussy. They let you squirm around between them, both men enjoying your quivering, hot channels, grunting with every little spasm of your body.

“That’s it, darling. Taking us so well.”

Nearly losing your mind, with the bliss of having them both inside but not yet moving, you barked, “Move. PLEASE…”

Apparently that was the magic word, as you felt Sy’s fat cock slide out, till only his tip remained inside, then he slammed all the way back, making you cry out as Walter’s cock also began moving. Though opposed to Sy’s thrust, so if one left your body the other was there to fill it up again.

Every thrust, forced another moan out of your mouth.

“What a good girl.”

So overwhelmed by pleasure you didn’t even know who said it, but you managed to push back your hips, back arching. You were having the most amazing time, between their bull-sized bodies, ramming into yours without abandon. Hitting every single sweet spot of yours.

Powerful hands were roaming your body, one pair kneading your tits, the other guiding you by the hips, helping them rut into you more efficiently. Intensifying your pleasure and desire further. Panting and whimpering for them.

Your eyes, long been closed, flew open when both men had pulled out just to thrust their thick cocks back inside simultaneously. “Mmmmh, soo go-good,” you cryed out. “So… so biiig.”

Sy cooed, “Aww look at you, completely fucked out…”

Walter quipped in, “Not that we’re faring any better… Sweet body of yours… too fucking tight…”

They picked their pace up after that, making you so delirious, only jumbled, unintelligible words left your mouth. A tension continuously began forming inside you, every push of their strong hips, bringing you closer to the umpteenth orgasm of the evening.

Thankfully they seemed to be just as close to their own release as you were, going by their ever increasing pace and loud grunts, followed by Sy’s shout, “Not gonna last much longer!”

More or less trapped between them, you bounced around like a rag doll, not having to do much, as their cocks ploughed away at your dripping holes. When a bearded mouth latched onto one of your nipples while the other was pinched between two calloused fingers, you started to see stars. Tension inside snapping, with a screech, nails digging into skin, “Nnngh, com-coming…!!” Your whole body went rigid, back bowing even more as you came.

A thick warm arm wrapped around your middle, two pairs of hips continuously meeting your body, not only prolonging your climax but coaxing another out.

“Arrgh, darling, that’s it…”, and without further delay both crashed a last time into you as deeply as they could, cocks pulsing violently before spilling their hot seed inside.

Your body still jolted from the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had to date. And as your sensitive pussy still clenched around Sy, he mumbled tiredly, “Okay…gotta pull out…still too damn tight…”

Walter let his cock slip out first, taking your hips, carefully lifting you up and off Sy’s dick. You whimpered softly at the sudden emptiness, as both had left your body. Walter didn’t let go, supporting your weight, as you leaned into him. A hand of his glided down your chest and between your shaking legs. Cupping your mound as he whispered, while biting your shoulder gently, “What a beautiful mess.”

Before you grew too sensitive he pulled his hand back, showing it to you. It was drenched in your juices and their sperm, as he brought it to your mouth, you obediently opened and licked it clean. Tasting yourself and their salty, tangy seed. Smacking your lips together once you were finished cleaning up his hand.

“Good girl, “Sy praised you, hooded eyes resting on your form.

As all the energy had been fucked right out of you, you couldn’t do much. Not even standing on your own. Of course they knew, so they manhandled you out of the tub, gently cleaning you up, placing you back inside as soon as it was filled with fresh, steaming water.

The warm water did wonders on your sore muscles, relaxing you so much in fact, you didn’t even know which chest you were currently lying against. Nor whose chest your feet were probed against, or who was massaging them.

Until the chest behind you rumbled, “You were amazing, love. Hadn’t had that much fun in years.”

You couldn’t open your heavy eyelids, but you managed to chirp out, “Yeah, me neither.” Then a mighty yawn betrayed your tiredness even further, sleepily curling into Walter’s hairy chest.

Sy drawled softly, “Mmh, you were perfect, sugar.”

When they saw you trying to fight off the sleep that wanted to claim your exhausted body, Walter added, “Sh, just relax, darling. We’ve got you.” You felt so safe with them that you did as he said, dozing off.

Only waking again, when a soft blanket was thrown over your body, mattress dipping behind you.

They had not only cleaned you, dried you off and laid you down on your bed. No. To your delight they had also decided to join you, cuddling into your body. The only indicator that you were awake, a soft, content, “Mmpf” breathed into the chest your head was resting on. Not wanting to open your eyes, you wiggled weakly into the warm body spooning you, to find out who was who.

A hand gripped your naked waist from behind, stilling your movement, followed by a deep, drowsy huff, “Go back to sleep, sugar.”

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Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me!❤️✨

#henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #x reader #fanfic #sand castle #night hunter

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togrowoldinv · 2 years ago

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Washing the Dishes

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Natasha Romanoff can do just about anything, but she’s never washed dishes. You offer to help her and feelings come to light

Note: Soft Nat, woo! I was washing the dishes tonight and came up with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Natasha is always willing to help the team do chores around the compound. Usually she cleans the floors or does laundry, but today she offered to wash the dishes after dinner.

You watch Natasha from the table where you’re finishing up eating dinner.

“Do you need help, Nat?” You ask Natasha. She grips the counter and sighs.

“Where is the thingy that blocks the water?” She asks. You try not to laugh, realizing that she really doesn’t know what it’s called.

“I’m here to help,” you tell Natasha. You slip next to her. “The stopper is right here. It’s in the sink drain and just needs to be twisted to ‘block the water,’” you say the last part to quote her.

“It’s not my fault I haven’t washed dishes before,” Natasha shrugs.

“Really?”

She shakes her head and for some reason it makes your heart hurt. It’s something so simple, but the superhero stands here helpless.

“I’ll show you how,” you say. “First, let’s get the water to hot and then we can use the stopper.”

Natasha listens intently as you explain how to do the steps. You let her do them and she’s proud of herself with each one she accomplishes.

“Alright, you’re ready to wash away,” you say once she’s got the soap in the water. “How about I rinse?”

“Sure, thank you.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes as Natasha washes the dishes delicately and hands them to you to rinse. You do your part with ease but she never feels rushed by you to wash faster.

“You’re probably wondering how I’ve never washed dishes,” Natasha breaks the silence after a while.

“I know that you didn’t have an exactly normal childhood, but I figured you would’ve done it in your adult life,” you say.

She shrugs. “Never had to. I didn’t stay in a place long enough and at the tower Tony had a high tech dishwasher installed.”

“We could use one here,” you say.

“I guess. But it’s kind of nice using my hands. Feels like it’s really doing something,” she says.

There’s an adorable smirk on her face and you can’t help but blurt out, “You’re so cute.”

A blush spreads on Natasha’s cheeks as you feel your own warm with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“That’s alright. Thank you though,” she says. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me cute.”

“I think you’re adorable,” you say boldly. “Those other people just don’t get it.”

Nat hands you the last dish. Something about the domesticity of washing the dishes with her makes you long to be with her. You’ve known you had a crush on her for a while, but this is sending you over the edge.

“Okay, it’s time to drain the water. Turn the stopper back to the way it was when we started and the water will drain,” you instruct her.

She does it perfectly and the water drains down the sink.

“Can I just run the water to get rid of the excess soap?” She asks.

“Yes, but use the sprayer.” She looks confused until you point to the sprayer on the rim of the sink. “Turn on the water please.”

Natasha does so and watches as you spray around one side of the sink. You hand it to her and she does the other side. While she’s putting it back where it goes, she accidentally sprays you with water.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, rushing to grab you a towel. She wipes the water from your neck and cheek. Her other hand holds your face steady.

Her thumb brushes over your jawline and lingers even once the water is gone. Natasha steps closer to you and both of you lean in slowly. She closes the distance between your lips with a slight pull at your neck.

Natasha’s lips against yours feels better than you could’ve ever imagined. The cliches about feeling like fireworks are going off and that the world is standing still are true as she kisses you.

“Thank you, y/n,” she tells you once she pulls away. Again, her hand lingers on your face.

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say in return, rendered pretty speechless from her kiss.

“For the record, I think you’re cute too,” Natasha says. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Just us.”

“Yes please,” you respond.

She smiles and kisses you softly once more. You hear feet coming down the hallway and the two of you step apart and work together to dry and put away the dishes.

Natasha steals glances at you and her touch lingers when she hands you dishes. You’re so glad she decided to learn how to do a new task tonight and that she allowed you to help.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #friends to lovers #it’s random but it’s canon to me

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novankenn · 2 months ago

Note

So for the invasion Au can you do Ciel next? Also Penny asking Ironwood if they should help but Ironwood says it's to late.

the Invasion... Snagging Soliel

Ciel was fuming as she marched through the dimly lit corridors of Beacon. Her eyes completely focused on her wrist watch. She was late. VERY late for a meeting with the General and Penny to go over the game plan for the Vytal festival tournament.

Ciel: How can this be happening! HOW!

So focused on her watch the young woman never notice the approach of a slightly younger blond haired teen coming up behind her.

Ciel: It's 7.5 minutes from the dorm to the General's temporary office. I've been walking for 4 minutes, so I am almost there. That will put me 2.5 minutes ahead of the time I reported to be at General Ironwoods office.

The blond teenaged girl continued to follow along behind the oblivious Ciel. A playful smile on her lips, and a skip in her step, making the pinkish skirt she was wearing over her black cargo pants, float about her, like the fashion crime it was.

Ciel: 2 minutes to the General's office.

Still unaware of the blond following close behind her, Ciel continued to walk her eyes focused on her watch. Turning a corner she looked up, and sighed. The door to the General's office was in sight. In fact the General and Penny were both just arriving themselves.

Behind her the blond pulled out a stoppered bottle and a rag from a pouch on her plate carrier. Popping the stopper silently, she up ended the small bottle against the rag.

Ciel: General! Sir! I am so.... HEY!!! GET O*muffled words*

????: You dear sis-in-law need to relax! I'm Juniper Arc by the way! Nice to meet ya!

Penny: Friend Ciel is in trouble! I must...

Penny is stopped by a firm hand upon her shoulder. Just down the hall from them Ciel was weaving about as Juniper was latched to her back holding a rag over her nose and mouth.

Penny: General?

James: It's too late for her Penny. Too late.

Penny: I don't understand? Why is it... too late?

In the distance Ciel finally sinks to the floor, her eyes closed as if she had just fallen asleep. Juniper shoved the rag into a pouch, before pulling out a roll of duct tape and securing Ciel's ankles and wrists together.

Juniper: Here's comes the bride! All dress in white!

James Ironwood continued to keep a firm grip on Penny as they watch Juniper start to drag the unconscious form Ciel back down the hall from which she came.

Penny: General? Why?

James: The Arcs have her, Penny. The Arcs have her.

(Episodes)

#the invasion au #rwby #jaune arc #Juniper Arc (ooc)#Ciel Soliel #james ironwood #penny polendina

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murciafire · 8 months ago

Text

Lady Lazarus

Jason Todd Angst

Summary: “You don’t get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come back wrong. This is the price you pay for resurrection” – Nathaniel Orion

Warnings: angst, the poem is about Plath's attempts but nothing explicit

Words: >1000

Notes: The thought of Jason dying and then being resurrected often led me to think of “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath. I find that it’s even more appropriate considering that Jason’s died twice now (1988, 2024 – please let me know if I have it wrong). Since we all know that Jason reads classics, I felt that his thoughts might as well be as dramatic and poetic as seen in classic lit.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I have done it again.

There was a chipped tile in the corner of the wall where it met the smooth surface of the bathtub. My eyes would always catch it on the days I found myself lying in the bathtub, but it was so indiscernible that I didn’t think anyone else would remark it. (Not that I would care if anyone did, nor did anyone visit me, nor did I want anyone to). It was like a scar hidden under a chin that wouldn’t be evident until you tilted your face to where God should be (but perhaps in His absence, you could stare at the sun and the rays would make the sliver of cut skin silver, brilliant and hideous).

But such a break, where it was so insignificant, would bother no one unless you knew where to look for such fractures. And I, being that I am, often find myself wandering in an agonizing game of self-loathing where I’m drawn to discovering broken things like me. Which is why I think—and when I do think these thoughts, they’re often coupled with a heaving dry chuckle—I must cover the bathroom mirror. This game, or perhaps self-torment, is one that I often lose even when I win.

I put out my cigarette on the side of the tub—I had forgotten I had lit it. My nerves were so frayed that I didn’t think nicotine could absolve me any more than drowning myself in this bathtub hoping that a self-made baptism could bring me any closer to my father. I sighed, closing my eyes while dropping the crumpled cigarette on the floor beside me. My heart beat steadily in my chest, but I was already limp like I had given up. I felt a smile curl my lips into something cruel because here I was, in rose water which I wasn’t holy enough for, but damned enough that I was swimming in my own blood.

The bathroom, I thought, was a state of purgatory where all my thoughts merged into a state of expiatory purification. Because I was alive and somehow—“One year in every ten I manage it—”

I groaned as my bones creaked and my muscles strained as I leaned over to pull the stopper. My eyes fixated on the swirling water, taking my blood with it. I blinked a few times, looking at my hands, no longer stained but very still. As if silence was a word to describe a motion—I wasn’t sure I was breathing. But I was.

And again I find myself moving, peeling myself off the floor of the tub, stepping over the edge. A sort of walking miracle, my skin bright as a Nazi lampshade, my right foot a paperweight.

I stood in front of the mirror and in my hesitancy, I found some courage, or as if reality took form and guided my hand to rip off the towel I hung over it, so I had to face what I saw in that tile: something broken. My face a featureless, fine Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin, O my enemy. Do I terrify?—

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh the grave cave ate will be at home on me.

I smiled, my laugh hollow as I wiped my face, continuing to recite Plath. “And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty and like the cat, I have nine times to die.”

I tossed the towel onto a hook on the wall before gripping the sink to stare at myself. “This is Number Three. What a trash to annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd shoves in to see them unwrap me hand and foot—the big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies—” I pushed off the sink, throwing my hands over my face. “These are my hands. My knees. I may be skin and bone, nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.”

I slid down to my knees, my chest heaving. “The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant to last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut as a seashell. They had to call and call and pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.”

I shut my eyes, feeling my body crumple to the floor and curl into itself. Silence, I decided, was a word to describe action. Because here I was, living silently.

“Dying,” I whispered, “is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call.”

I rubbed my arm with my hand, my fingers brushing over scars—new and old. My body was littered with wounds, but no one could ever see the scar under my chin. Or perhaps, the one I wanted most to notice was the crack in my heart that shattered my soul.

“It’s easy enough to do it in a cell,” I muttered. “It’s easy enough to do it and stay put. It’s the theatrical. Comeback in broad day to the same place, the same face, the same brute amused shout: ‘A miracle!’”

I laughed or cried; I wasn’t sure. But air came out of my lungs and clawed at my throat to make some sort of sound so I knew I was still here, lying on the bathroom floor very much still alive. But it’s a miracle that I am, isn’t it? That knocks me out.

There is charge. For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge. For the hearing of my heart—

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge for a word or a touch or a bit of blood or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus, I am your valuable, the pure gold baby that melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—

You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—

A cake of soap, a wedding ring, a gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.

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phiclets · 1 month ago

Text

Your Place or Mine?

“They’re used to spending most of their time together, but creative work means they’re also constantly, actively interacting with each other; brainstorming and arguing and making important decisions from day till night. On days like this, having their own space at home can be vital. Interviewers are always asking them how they make it work, being partners in work as well as in life? This is it.” OR: They've always had two bedrooms.

Words: 1,623 ✮ Rating: T ✮ Slice of Life, Domestic, Fluff

Also on AO3!

“I think I’m gonna go green tonight.”

Phil says this as he’s kicking his shoes off in their entryway, and Dan is gently nudging him aside so he can toss his keyring into the shallow dish sitting on the table next to him.

“Yeah?” Dan says absentmindedly, starting to unwind the scarf from around his neck. “You gonna Shrek it up, are you.”

Phil puts on a breathy voice — “Yeahhh” — which makes Dan laugh through his nose.

“Okay.”

Going green is Phil’s code for sleeping in the green bedroom. Which, given the day they’ve just had, makes complete sense. Working on a new project always does this. They’re used to spending most of their time together, but creative work means they’re also constantly, actively interacting with each other; brainstorming and arguing and making important decisions from day till night. On days like this, having their own space at home can be vital. Interviewers are always asking them how they make it work, being partners in work as well as in life? This is it. (Though they’d never say so, lest the fans deduce from this that the nature of their relationship, in the absence of the work aspect, would not require two bedrooms. C’est la vie.)

“Do you need to get anything from my room?” Dan asks. Phil has been sleeping with him for the past week and a bit, meaning more and more of his things have been migrating to his bedroom.

“I think I’ll just get my towel and shower in the guest bathroom.”

“Alright.”

Phil leads the way. He flips the room lights on by the door, then heads right into the bathroom as Dan heads left, into the walk-in. He needs to get his accessories off. Rings, choker. In the background, the white noise of Phil puttering around the bathroom. Dan looks, and then wanders over to the door of the walk-in as he fiddles with the stopper on his earring.

“Don’t forget your contacts case,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” comes the reply, which Dan takes as a sign that he can safely abandon his post and retreat into the closet again. A few moments later, Phil’s voice comes from by the door. “Night.”

He has his towel — swamp-coloured — slung over one arm and various other toiletries crushed into a claw-like hand. His hair is a little flat from a full day out in the rain. Dan’s chest pulses with a familiar affection.

“Goodnight,” he says, taking two steps forward to give him a kiss on the lips. It’s just a brush and then gone. They’re tired. There’ll always be tomorrow. Phil smiles at him, then disappears out the door.

Dan’s shower is heavenly. He cranks it near-full heat and does nothing but stand in the spray for about ten minutes. Then he speed-cleans himself for the last five and gets as quickly as he can into floor-length pyjama pants (incredible find for a 6’3” man) and a T-shirt.

But his bed, when he sinks into it, is an even greater revelation. A proper ouahhh sound escapes him once he’s horizontal. This is his favourite mattress in the house — just the right amount of fluff and firmness to send him into a baby’s slumber. Phil is agreeable to it, but he prefers the one in the green bedroom, which he got sole voting rights over since Dan wasn’t going to be the one crashing in there when they grew sick of each other.

If I’m gonna get kicked out of your room whenever you like, I’d better get to choose the mattress I want, was what Phil had said. Dan had argued that since his was the default “shared” room between them, it was also the room of compromises — a mattress both he and Phil could agree on, a desk chair that wouldn’t give Phil back pains too, etc — so he was paying the price already.

You love sharing a room with me, Phil had said dismissively, already turning back to the digital drawing board on his laptop.

Dan had made a face at that, but also said nothing.

The Dan of now just smiles at the thought. They’re a long way from Manchester now, when choosing furniture was less a question of preference than absolute necessity. He can hear water running through the pipes in the walls as Phil showers in the guest bathroom. The rest of the house is quiet. Their house, their home.

He sends Phil a message. It’s nothing at all to do with what he’s thinking. Just recalling a random anecdote from this morning, when one of their team members spilled coffee all over his beautifully put-together agenda. Phil won’t see it for another ten minutes yet (60% of the water bill in this establishment is attributable to Phil), so Dan leaves it for him to find and doomscrolls quite comfortably until the pipe noises die down.

Ding!

Dan swipes over to iMessage.

i felt so bad, Phil has replied.

his agenda was so beautiful

it was printed and bound, Dan replies.

thicc

agendussy

They go back and forth. Talking about their project. The government. Whether polar bears are capable of getting hypothermia. (Phil goes quiet for 10 seconds, then sends him a link with a list of reasons they can’t get hypothermia, one of them being their small tails. Dan gets weirdly emotional about that.)

They never really run out of things to say between them — haven’t since 2009 — but Dan can feel the moment when the energy of the conversation starts to flag. The messages start getting blander, the words monosyllabic, and then utterly nonsensical. Communication becomes reduced to animal noises. Phil even sends single letters once or twice.

But Dan isn’t willing to be the one to end it. Funny how he’d just thought they were so far from Manchester, but at times like this he feels like the same young boy who clung onto AmazingPhil’s every word, except before he did it with some measure of incredulity and burning gratitude. Now he does it with a warm insistence in his chest, nothing he won’t die without, but everything he wants for the rest of his life. The best part? He knows Phil wants the same.

When Dan finally sends the snail emoji with gentle effect, and Phil sees it without immediately responding, Dan gives it up.

can i green as well

A moment later, Phil replies with:

🟢

Dan smiles. Then rolls out of his perfectly comfortable bed and flips the lights off on his way out. He could’ve asked Phil to come to his, but it didn’t seem fair, given Phil had been the one to retreat to his own room himself. Dan would go to him. (Wouldn’t he always?)

Once at Phil’s door, he does an unnecessarily fancy knock before pushing it open.

It’s a warm, green haven in here. The overhead lights are off, leaving just the bedside lamp to cast its golden glow and fantastical, stretched-out shadows across the walls. The bamboo paintings Phil’s dad did for them to commemorate their magical trip to Japan hang tranquilly over the bed. Beneath them, Phil is on his phone under the covers. It would all be very serene if there wasn’t the insane sound of someone screeching wildly coming from Phil’s phone.

“What the fuck are you watching?” Dan asks, closing the door behind him.

Phil throws him a glance, mid-laugh. “I’m watching a goose steal someone’s wig.”

Dan makes his way over to the far side of the bed. “Do you mean that in like a, wig snatched—”

“No, I mean a goose actually stole someone’s wig. In a park.”

Phil turns his phone screen towards Dan as he’s pulling the covers back and climbing in next to him. There is, indeed, a goose fully clamping onto some poor woman’s beautiful blonde wig and escaping with it. Dan finds himself laughing stupidly.

“What the fuck,” he snorts. Phil giggles as well, watching him watch the screen. “Absolutely brutal.”

“This is why I don’t feed geese in the park.”

“Because you’re scared they’ll steal your wig from you?”

“Yeah.”

Dan gets comfortable beneath the blankets, and Phil goes back to the never-ending stream of animal content that is his TikTok For You page. Dan watches some with him, shaking his head at the things that make him laugh like a maniac. It’s far from the bedtime atmosphere podcast bros would recommend for optimal sleep, but this is exactly what Dan needs right now. Just Phil being himself. Next to him. He turns his own phone on and browses the news. Like a seesaw, he’ll read some depressing news about the state of the world, and then Phil will shake with the giggles at something he’s watched, and the gloom will be balanced out. This is why they work. This is why they win. 15 years and going strong.

Dan is still reading about some prime minister’s fumble when Phil’s side of the bed goes quiet. Distantly, he registers the sounds of Phil putting his phone on the table beside him, the light clatter of him taking off and folding up his glasses, the clap of its case shutting.

Then Phil’s arm comes to rest over his torso. Dan feels a gentle exhale ruffle the curls by his ear, and smiles. Phil doesn’t say anything — he might already be asleep, honestly. And it doesn’t sound like a half bad idea. After finishing up reading whatever he’d been reading before, Dan switches his own phone off and slides it onto the table by his head. Reaches up to turn off the light.

The mattress is really, honestly, subpar. And Phil snores like a feral hog throughout the night.

It’s worth it.

#slice of life my beloved!!!!! hope you all enjoy #if you do i would endlessly appreciate a reblog!! <3 #dan and phil #dnp #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #dan and phil fanfiction

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cultofdixon · 2 years ago

Text

Nurse!

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Nurse Dixon here to nurse you back to health • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Illness / Vomiting

Requested by: Anon

She’s late Daryl thought as he sat in the watchtower waiting not only for Abraham to relieve him of his shift but for Y/N to “come and get him” to go home and get in bed. But when Abraham beat her to it, he started to get worried for his girl.

The archer made his way quietly back inside, not to disturb Carol who was sleeping in the upper level of the house. Leaving the basement apartment for Daryl and Y/N. But when he drew closer to the bedroom he heard gagging.

Don’t jump the gun Dixon. You’re better than this. Don’t let your insecurity think the worse and as Daryl opens the door to see the little light shine through the bathroom. His insecurity died off as he instantly makes his way toward the light opening the door to find Y/N throwing up.

“H-Hey…” Y/N groans only having a second to speak before returning to throwing up. She heard footsteps disappear as she couldn’t blame Daryl for not wanting to be there.

But to her surprise, the bedroom light turned off and the door opened up more. Daryl came back without his crossbow on his back and a towel in hand with an extra change of clothes. He set those items on the sink counter before dropping to his knees beside her. The archer always had a hair tie on him just for her, plus he tugs on it whenever he’s anxious.

Y/N sat up long enough for Daryl to gently brush her hair back with his hands using the hair tie to tie it up in a ponytail. She was going to thank him but felt another wave from her unsettled stomach causing her to throw up again. This time Daryl rubbed soothing circles on her back as she did so until she was finished.

“Let’s get yea out of these clothes”

“I’m too tired D…”

“I know” Daryl continues rubbing circles on her back until Y/N started to relax finally. “But I bet yea feel nasty in the clothes you threw up in. Let me run a bath, get yea cleaned up and dressed, then to bed”

“You spoil me…”

“You’re worth it” Daryl stood up kissing the top of her head before getting the bath started.

Once Y/N was undressed and relaxing in the bath, Daryl took care of tossing her dirty clothes in the basket then went to change the sheets knowing she puts scented stuff last wash and it would upset her already upset stomach if she smelled it. After doing that he went to check on her, Daryl carefully pressed the back of his hand to her forehead watching her look up at him.

“How long have you not been feelin’ well, baby?” There was a hint of concern in his voice as he pulls his hand away, sitting on the edge of the tub feeling if the water was still warm or at least nice enough for her.

“I was working with Rick on securing the walls after the herd that came through a bit ago…” Y/N shifted a bit to get comfortable again. “Then I thought I was just dehydrated and maybe hungry cuz I haven’t eaten today. But once I got back here it felt way hotter than it was outside…then made the mistake of eating something when I started to not feel good.”

“Should’ve gone straight to bed, or tell Rick to find me sooner”

“You were on a run with Aaron by the time this was happening…and the sheets”

“I changed the sheets. Don’t smell like your floral stuff anymore” Daryl reached into the tub to remove the drain stopper and reaching for the towel. “Let’s get yea dressed”

“You spoil me D…”

“Mm. Yea just don’t gotta suffer alone, alright? Let me take care of yea” Daryl helped her lean forward enough once the water was drained, to wrap the towel around her shoulders before getting up and reaching in to pick her up bridal style.

Y/N sat comfortably on the edge of the bed with the towel wrapped around her as Daryl grabbed the clothes he set out previously. Once she was dressed, he helped her get comfortable before covering her in several blankets. Daryl knelt in front of her bringing the back of his hand back to her forehead.

“Yea have a fever. Gonna get some medicine from the infirmary”

“Can you make me soup?”

“If I find a can or two. Then maybe”

“Pleaseee” She pouts with puppy dog eyes that Daryl could never deny.

“I’ll make it tomorrow if you can handle food. But right now just try and sleep while I find something’ close to cold medicine” Daryl brushes away the loose hair in her face before kissing her forehead and going to get the medicine.

After about being gone for thirty minutes to get a few pills and two cans of the soup he found in the pantry, Daryl came back to find her fast asleep and thank god for that. He put the pills in a shot glass she found for him on a run, the only interesting thing about it was the squirrel print on it. That’s why Y/N picked it up. He set the glass on the nightstand beside her watching her shift a bit in her sleep. Before Daryl put her canteen beside the glass, he noticed the discomfort in her expression.

Right as Y/N was about to throw up, Daryl drops the trash can at the right moment she leaned over the edge to vomit.

“Nah don’t go layin’ back down. Gotta make sure you’re finished so you don’t aspirate”

“You…sound like a nurse” She tried to hold it in for a bit but couldn’t and threw up once more.

“More like Merle OD’d before. Yea learn a thing or two” Daryl frowns taking the rag from his back pocket out wiping away the excess once she finished throwing up. “Think it’s the flu” he helped her sit up in the bed by grabbing his pillow putting it on top of hers before letting her lean back.

“Eh what gave it away?” She jokes before taking the water bottle and pills handed to her by her partner.

“One of those should break the fever. The other helps with nausea. At least that’s what the bottle said.” Daryl brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed setting his rag on her nightstand.

“Gonna be a few days…”

“Yeah. Like most sick people recoverin’”

“‘M just saying, you don’t have to stay by my side the entire time”

“Well…” Daryl untied the laces on his boots slipping them off and climbing into the bed beside Y/N crossing his arms once he got comfortable against the headboard. “That’s too damn bad”

A small smile graced Y/N’s exhausted lips before getting comfortable on her side the best she could and fell asleep shortly after. Daryl on the other hand, stayed up a bit longer which meant staying up when the sun rose. Which wasn’t long given Daryl’s night shift ended at midnight and he spent a few hours taking care of Y/N.

“Daryl!”

Shit. The archer frowns stepping out of the infirmary after telling Denise Y/N’s symptoms to get a few more medicines to help with such. Now being day 3. Meaning he hasn’t talked to anybody but his partner since she first came down.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Home”

“Home? That’s it? I haven’t seen yea or Y/N in three days”

“You have plenty of others to do your bidding. I’m allowed a moments peace” Daryl frowns gripping the bottles in his hands that Rick took note of and started to get worried.

“What happened?”

“Y/N’s sick. That’s what’s been happenin’ the past few days. Taking care of my partner and you buggin’ is keeping me from giving her medicine”

“Right. Right. I’m sorry”

“But seriously though. There’s plenty of other people to do what yea need. Yea just gotta ask instead of waiting for me to just do it” that was the last thing Daryl said before physically leaving the conversation to go back to Y/N.

To Daryl’s surprise coming back to their home, Y/N moved to the couch. No longer being in the bedroom or in the bed that she started to feel disgusting in the longer she laid in there.

“Want me to—-“

“Finally make me soup” Y/N smiles a bit even through the very tired composure her entire body held. Daryl set down the medicine on the coffee table for her to investigate what they were until he took the thermometer out of his pocket which lead her smile to fade. “You’re not sticking that up my yknow”

Daryl quickly checked to make sure he grabbed the right one as Y/N started to laugh slightly. Bringing out an annoyed look from her partner.

“Sorry. It’s the right one, D.” Y/N took it carefully once he handed it to her as she stuck it in her mouth. “Wanted to mess with yea”

“Glad to see that came back…and that yer talkin’ more” Daryl sat on the coffee table once he got her a glass of water. He set the glass beside him watching her open one of the medicine bottles to take the required dose out. He handed her the glass trading it for the bottle then carefully taking the thermometer out while she took the pills. “Least it’s broke now. Still got a headache?”

“A little one. It started from being in that room for the past few days…”

“I cleaned your bucket already, I’ll change the she—-“

“You don’t have to do that…” Y/N pouts after washing the pills down hearing Daryl sigh before feeling his hand caress her cheek lifting her chin and her gaze to lock on him.

“You’re always takin’ care of me darling. Just let me return the favor”

Once that smile of hers came, Daryl rose to his feet kissing the top of her head. “I’m finally gonna make you that soup”

“Yes!” Y/N shouts wincing a bit to the pulsing pain in her head that the pain killer hasn’t kicked in just yet to get rid of. “Woof…” she rubs her temple for a moment.

After Daryl got the pot on the stove, he went to change the sheets in the bedroom while Y/N laid on the couch for a bit. He tossed the dirty cheers in the basket, about to grab the ones previous that he cleaned with unscented stuff when he heard footsteps behind him. He was going to turn around but felt the familiar warmth that came from his partner when she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I gotta—-“

“It can wait a minute. Haven’t held you in a few days…becoming touch starved” Y/N sighs holding him for a bit feeling him shift in her embrace but enough for him to turn toward her caging her in his arms.

“Once you’ve got some food other than toast in your system. We can cuddle”

“Mmm that better be a promise, Daryl Dixon”

And it was.

Once Y/N finally had a meal of sorts that didn’t instantly leave her system or threaten to do so. She found herself already fast asleep but in the embrace of the archer that finally got a good nights sleep knowing she will pull through from this illness.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #sick fics are my favorites ngl. except if we talkin prison illness then that’s a diff story #daryl dixon fanfiction

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htelover24 · 18 days ago

Text

Curse Breaker pt 1

WARNINGS PLEASE READ: mentions of suicide body dysmorphia sh and depression

A/N: IM BACK and with a series. (Let me know what you think?? (This chapter is kinda a get to know yourself as a character I’m writing BUT billie does come in toward the end so give it a chance)

Reader is immortal and struggling to be completely blunt. Billie moves in next door. Can she help reader feel something again? Is it fate?

22 years and forever to go. You could call me Annie if I had the choice because then It’d be “A day away.” Not a day goes by without at least a desperate attempt. Not a minute passes without the thought ricocheting through my head. I still can’t quite get a grip on the mystery I call my life. Maybe I’m already dead. I like to think that way but I want nothing more than to believe it.

Truth be told I can’t fucking die, and trust me I’ve tried. Not a damn thing works. At least I can say all hope is dead kinda wish it was me though.

If you’re asking why I’d want to die at such a young age, ask that to 13 year old you on the bathroom floor with the blade in one hand and 11 pills in the other. I’m tired of that question my therapist asks it enough.

Speaking of therapy what’s the point. You’re talking to someone to help you, yet you’re $150 short once you leave. It’s really belittling to know you’re just their source of income isn’t it. It’s not even like you tell the truth first few sessions but they’re still getting paid to listen to your lies. Absolute bullshit.

My thoughts are track racing again challenger one being denial and the other being reality there’s no draw yet neither of them win but neither one excepting the loss thus a rematch. You’d think they’d give up right?…… Yeah me too.

Just as the 7th race finishes my alarm goes off if you were wondering denial won, he pushed reality down and stopped him out. What did you expect he can’t expect anything and definitely not defeat.

I look around my room adjusting my eyes to the familiar interior. I scoot out of bed, legs feeling flimsy from the lack of holding up my weight for 8 hours. I stutter over to my bathroom feeling incredibly sick from the failed attempt at poisoning myself overnight. I was hoping I’d die in my sleep, but like always I wake up with the unjust consequences of my actions.

I look in the mirror at my disarrayed reflection. I’ve got dried spit smudge at the side of my mouth, eye crush built up along my tear ducts, and hair disheveled knots engulfing my hair tie making it almost invisible.

A heavy sigh slips passed my lips as I turn on the water to my shower. Stepping in feeling the warmth of the water trickling down my skin reminding me of the same sensation of my blanket, just missing the gentle mattress. I put the stopper in the drain and watched as the water rouse filling my tub.

Attempt one.

I lay down flat on my back and let out all the air from my lungs before dunking my head completely submerging myself in the water.

My body doesn’t panic and my mind is loaded with the absence of thought. When my chest feels like it’s been pinched, picked at, compressed, and dismantled I inhale the water around me. My eyes widened at the familiar feeling of guilt and agonizing thick blurred pain in my lungs. I can clearly make out the shape of my lungs as they feel the heaviest in my body. I feel them rest on my vertebrae as my heart loses its steady tempo, both quickening and slowing. My skin feels like it’s being bitten all over and injected with venom. My eyes go droopy and my body begins to sink onto the marble shell of my tub. My heart completely stops but my brain still very conscious.

I’d failed again.

After a few hours I finally gain feeling back in my body. I sit up very slowly looking down at my flory reflection in the water.

How come it never works out. Whether it’s my life or my failed attempts to get rid of it. It all goes to shit. It sucks because apparently life is precious but at what cost does it keep its value. Does my mental health have to deplete for me to still be of worth to anyone? Do I have to suffer to uplift the value of others? It’s unfair. It’s either the world is fucked up or…….. it’s me. I know if I dwell on it too much I’ll drown again just in the counter narrative of my mind. “Whatever”… Is the only thing I can say to keep myself from breaking.

I unclog the drain watching the water spiral down reminding me a lot of myself. I stand up a bit unsteady from well you know….. drowning, and turn my shower head back on. I grab my soap and froth up my sponge.

I bring my sponge to the skin of my arm smoothly lathering myself in a layer of soap. Before I know it I’m completely covered…. So why do I still feel so gross.

I look down at my body seeing every out of place lump, dip, and curve. They begin at my shoulders and the whole length down to my feet. I scrub at the skin of my arm harshly practically scraping at it hoping to get rid of these imperfections. My hands race down to my stomach and I snatch pinch and scrub I scrub until I’m red and bleeding. I can’t stop my hands from traveling all over my body working to destroy what I see as an enemy.

My body feels like it’s been raked before I finally put my sponge down….. At least I’m clean right?

I step out the shower not bothering with drying off I look in my foggy mirror not being able to make out my features, but from what I can see I look like a silhouette of pink and red splotches. Darker in the area I’m most disgusted with.

I walk over to my closet and pick an outfit to lounge in and won’t be uncomfortable after a few more attempts at taking my life. I put my hair in a messy bun with a few strands that didn’t quite make it in leaking out the hair tie.

I walk over to my nightstand and pick up the bottle of Ondansetron and down 16 of them.

Attempt 2

After a few hours I feel the overdosage take over. My face feels like it’s being rearranged, as well as my organs. I get up to go drink some water before I-

DING DONG.

I haven’t had a visitor at my door in weeks who could possibly be at my house, and at such a bad time. I walk over to the door looking through the peep hole. I see the most magnificent blonde woman at my door holding what looks to be a pumpkin pie with a bizarre purple color to it, though that can always just be the overdose defects.

I open the door and she smiles.

“Hey I’m billie the new neighbor thought I’d introduce myself instead of just being a stranger you know?”

Her smile begins to drop along with my body to the floor.

No fucking way I just died in front of her. The hottest woman to ever interact with me just saw me die. This is so fucked.

“Holy Shit.” Is the last thing I hear before going unconscious.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 9 months ago

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lil joel x reader drabble

sexual tension and some nudity. we all know what's coming next.

Okay but what if you don't really know Jackson!Joel, you just nod at him whenever you pass him by in the street (because that's what you do in Jackson), and you know nothing about him except what everybody knows: he walked all the way there with the girl, he's lethal, he's Tommy's brother, he's fucking dangerous, but when he looks at Ellie he smiles, and when she reads him puns from that book of hers he laughs, and it's the sound of someone who has longed to laugh for many, many years.

So one day he delivers something to your door. I don't really know what, maybe soup or something, and when you accept it, your fingers touch, and you lose your grip for a moment, and you spill it all over his plaid and jeans.

"Shit, oh shit, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking clumsy!"

"Don't worry about it, no harm done."

"Dammit, it's all over your clothes!"

"It's okay."

"I'm really sorry!"

And somehow he ended up inside your house, carrying the pot or whatever to the kitchen, where he puts it down, before assessing the damage. He takes off the plaid, and the t-shirt underneath is fine.

"Gimme that, I'll clean it for you."

"You really don't have to."

"I want to," you stress. "It was my fault. Come on, jeans too."

He has already handed you the plaid, but now he's shaking his head.

"Joel, I insist. Go home, get changed, bring me back the jeans."

"I only have this one pair."

"All the more reason for me to clean them!" you point out as you turn your back and go to the sink, turning on the water and putting down the plaid. "Come on now, you think I haven't seen a guy in his undies before?"

You try to make your voice light, but you know you failed. It has been a long time since you last saw a man in his undies, and a man like Joel Miller...

You hear him taking off his boots, then the rustle of his jeans, finally the belt buckle hitting the floor with a low thunk. When you turn around to accept the pants, you stop still.

Except for the t-shirt and socks, he's naked. The hem of the shirt just about covers the little round of his belly, and you can very plainly see the dark hair running down between his legs, where his cock and balls hang snugly against the mass of hair.

You gulp, and realize that you have stared at his crotch for longer than is considered polite. When you meet his gaze, you see that he is teasing you. He's not even holding the jeans in front of his crotch, oh no, his hand is resting comfortably at his side.

"You do realize that I can't go out like this?" he asks you in a low voice that makes the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up. You nod, stupefied.

"And that I'll have to wait here until my pants are dry?"

You nod again. He takes a couple of steps towards you, and hands you the jeans. You accept them, hand trembling slightly, and turn around quickly to shove the jeans into the sink, along with the plaid. You look for the soap, the drain stopper, and splash water on the floor.

"You need any help?"

Joel is suddenly right behind you, startling you as one of his hands come to rest on your waist.

"I'm good," you manage.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll just let these soak..."

You turn off the water, and take a deep breath. Okay, here goes.

Slowly, you turn around, your hip grazing his cock that doesn't seem to limp anymore. Joel takes a step closer, trapping you between himself and the sink.

"They gotta soak for a while," you tell him quietly, before clearing your throat. "For quite a while, in fact."

He smirks, and leans in to press his lips against yours.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #my fic

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floralpascal · 1 year ago

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Water Temperature

Summary: Gaz likes baths and showers cold. You like yours super hot. It leads to some teasing on both sides

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 492

Rating: Mature (Some sexual insinuations though so 18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: nudity, gratuitous looks from everyone involved, hints of sexual insinuations, talk of super hot and cold water

A/N: This is just a cute little drabble that came to me randomly a couple days ago while I was taking a steaming-hot bath. Enjoy the cuteness!

Gaz stood in front of the bathroom sink, eyes fixed intently on the mirror as he carefully shaved his face.

The warmth of your bath enveloped you, drawing the tension from your body with ease. Laying your head back against the bathtub wall, you lazily eyed Kyle as he worked, shirtless and clad only in workout shorts. His muscles moved and worked as he lifted his arm to reach the side of his beard, a sight you never seemed to get tired of.

“Ever feel like you’re bein’ watched, babe?” He teased as he stretched his neck to the side, his eyes darting to you mischievously for only a second before he returned his focus to the mirror.

You laughed, readjusting your legs in the water. “I’m not ashamed, I like the view.”

With one last swipe, he finally finished. He laid the razor back on the counter before turning to you with a smirk. As his eyes slid up and down your naked form, he countered, “Oh, I bet I like my view more.”

“Wanna join me?”

An amused eyebrow of his shot up, like your idea was ludicrous. With two strides he was at the edge of the tub. He bent down and put a finger in to test the water as cautiously as he could. As soon as the tip of his finger brushed the surface of the water, he was yanking his hand away.

“As much as I’d love to join you in the ninth circle of hell, sweetheart,” he said, “I don’t think I could even dip my toes in there, let alone my whole body.”

You gave him an incredulous laugh. “The ninth circle of hell?”

“Baby, your baths and showers put volcanoes to shame. I’d love to join you, but I just don’t think I’d make it out of there alive.”

The bath water moved with your laughter. As you playfully flicked cooled-off droplets of water at him with your fingers, you asked, “And you would rather I take my baths and showers in the Arctic like you do?”

He rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his mouth. “So dramatic,” he groaned. “My water isn’t even that cold when I’m home. You should see how cold the showers are when I’m at work.”

“You might as well just have an ice bath at that point. That sounds like torture, Kyle.”

He shrugged. “It’s all about perspective, babe. Your tub of boiling water seems more like torture to me.”

You leaned forward, taking his hand with your wet one — not that Kyle seemed to care. “How about I get out of here, get dried off, and then we can go lay on the couch together? That sound like a better deal?”

He nodded, his brown eyes sweeping up and down your body again. “Yeah. Can’t promise I’ll let you make it to the couch, though…”

Smiling, you pulled the stopper to let the water out.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 headcanons #cod #my writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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Partners in Crime 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, allusions to abuse including body-shaming, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you’re left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Wakey, wakey,” the voice draws you up from the sludge. You pry your eyelids apart and groan.

You’re still nestled against Lee but you can see something past him, a fleshy blur. The man at your side squeezes you and rolls onto his back. He sighs and rubs his eyes.

“You gonna sleep all day or we gonna get down to it?” Lloyd asks.

You squeak as you spy his bare chest and stomach, blocking out the rest as you cover your face with your hand. Lee snarls and untangles from you as he sits up. “Goddamn, Hansen, put some fucking clothes on.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Lloyd snickers. “You like the way it hangs?”

“Piss off,” the slap of flesh makes you flinch and Lloyd yelps.

“Damn it, that was too close,” he exclaims.

“Next time I won’t miss,” Lee’s weight leaves the bed. “Cover up.”

A huff and a rustle follow and you dare to peek out between your fingers. Lee comes back to you, in a tank and boxers, holding a fluffy pink robe open. “Come on, darling. We gotta get the day started.”

Lloyd’s behind him in a black silk robe, smoothing his mustache with his fingers. He looks agitated with the bristly hairs. You sit up, quaking, unsure what else to do but what you’re told. You got too used to waking up alone and peaceful. Yet, you can’t say what’s worse, them or your ex.

“We’ll get ya washed up and dressed, then we’ll sit down and eat,” Lee slings his arm across your shoulders. He seems even bigger than the day before. They both do. “How’s that sound?”

“Good,” you eke out. What you know is that obedience is safe. Any sign of resistance only got you worse.

He keeps you wrapped up and Lloyd grumbles as he leads you past, “we really gonna drag this out?”

“We have a plan,” Lee insists. “You agreed. We wanna take care of her. Give her what she never had. Stop being a jerk.”

“I’m not. I'm just saying. Rip the bandaid off,” Lloyd turns and follows.

You look over your shoulder as he crosses his arms, his blue eyes sharp as he squints back at you. Of the two, he makes you more nervous. You know better than to trust in self-control, but Lee it a bit less scary.

You turn your head straight and take in the hallway. The house is nice. The walls are half-panel, half floral. An old-fashioned sort of domesticity. The white trim is clean and elegant and the runner rug is delicate patterned in a complementary pattern.

Lee turns you through a door with a crystal knob. You fold your hands together as he ushers you into the bathroom. The porcelain shine and the counter is the same ivory as the trim in the hallway.

There’s an oval mirror over the sink basin, a shelf of neatly folded towels in various sizes mounted on the wall. The bath mat is a blue rose, the walls a lighter shade of the same, and a clawfoot tub stands near the far wall.

You take it all in. In any other circumstance, you would be in awe. You can only curl into yourself as you try to disappear. This can’t be real. These men can’t be either.

“You go on, get yourself in,” Lee detaches and steps forward to twist on the faucet. He bends with a grunt to put the stopper in place. “Got everything you need. Soaps, salts, bombs.”

Your eyes scan the shelf along the tub and all the colourful bottles, jars, and trays. You slowly come forward and peer down into the lapping water. Lee backs up as you sense Lloyd lingering behind.

“Want me keep an eye on her?” Lloyd slithers. “Don’t want her to fall in.”

“Go get her something to wear,” Lee commands.

“No, you,” the other argues.

“Don’t be ornery,” Lee rebukes.

“No. You.” Lloyd repeats more tersely than before.

There’s a sigh, “we’ll both go.” Lee insists.

You stay as you are. You wait until the door shuts before you move. You look down at the silk night gown and the cool air sets prickles across your skin. There’s a click behind you. They’ve locked you in. As nice as they are trying to be, they don’t trust. You’re still their prisoner.

You brace your head as you quiver. How could this happen to you? Why? How did they know who you are? How to find you? You don’t quite believe everything they’ve told you. They seem to know more about you than they should.

Maybe it’s your ex-husband. He can’t torture you so he sent these two to do so. How cruel can he be?

When the door opens again, you flinch. You rub your arms and shiver.

“Now, don’t let the thing overflow,” Lee chides. “Get in, honey.”

Lloyd hums in agreement. You glance back at them. You want them to leave but you don’t think they will. You face the tub again and shudder.

You close your eyes. You're back in the bedroom you once shared with your husband. Alone. You’re in a towel, sifting through your closet, looking for something to wear to his work thing. You unwrap the cotton from around you and hear a scoff.

“Sixteen,” your husband’s voice crawls across the room as he appears in the doorway. “Sixteen dimples in your ass. Last time I counted, was only twelve.”

Your eyes snap open as the balmy air roils over the tub. Your nose tingle hotly. The two strange men are going to see all your dimples and marks and scars. You know they did last night but you were too terrified to think about it. And this is different. It’s so bright in here.

You scrunch the satin in your fists and lift it slowly. You sniffle as you unveil yourself to the room. To them. You tense and swoop the fabric over your head and drop it. You shake as you step forward and angle your leg over the edge of the tub.

You try to ignore your audience and the gristly noises wafting from them. Are they disgusted by you? Disappointed? You turn and lower yourself into the hot water. Their silhouettes loom beside you.

“Ain’t that nice?” Lee asks. “You just relax.”

“Hard to relax fully-cocked,” Lloyd snickers.

“Shut up,” Lee snaps and slaps his arm. “Get outta here.”

“Stop telling me what to do.”

“We’re both gonna leave her be,” Lee insists. You stare at the tiled wall, humiliated. The way they talk about you like you’re not there, like you’re a thing. “Let her get situated then we can get her settled in.”

“You’re a fucking softie, Bodecker,” Lloyd sneers.

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” he shoves the man back, “stop cussin' and come on.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #drabble #partners in crimes #au #the gray man #the devil all the time

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redhalmao · 2 years ago

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Headcanon: Tim checks Bernard's pulse, a lot.

Bernard knows that he was not supposed to notice, but he can't help himself.

Tim checks his pulse. Like a worrying number of times.

Although the action in itself, Bernard shouldn't find it too alarming. It's Gotham for pete's sake, Bernard will proudly bark out laugh at you if you call yourself a Gotham native and NOT know how to CPR/check someone's pulse. It's just that Bernard feel like it's another small detail that cements the fact Tim is Red Robin. Tim's life was supposed to be a sunshine n' rainbows, dazzling, glamorous and fairly safe world of the rich or famous, but no one from that world should check a person's pulse with that much confidence and effectiveness. Tim checks Bernard's pulse like every fiber of his being was trained to.

Oh another thing that bothers Bernard is that Tim m typically checks Bernard's pulse when it's a quiet moment.

And those moments become the loudest that Bernard felt.

***

At the time, Bernard is too tired to move his study session back to his room. Add in the the combination of Tim's harsh lamp light glaring at him for the past 4 hours and lack of Monster drinks, his eyes deserves a much needed break. So, Bernard is just happy to accept his fate of laying down on Tim's very inviting soft couch.

Bernard soon loses himself to the fuzzy feeling of the boathouse that slightly rocks his body. His legs readjusts to the boats motion and Bernard hugs himself together to roll with the movement better. Bernard hummed at the moment he realizes that a storm must be coming and must be the one causing rocking.

Huh, Tim should really put some more rocker stoppers. Bernard curled farther into the couch at that thought.

Within a half of hour later, Bernard sleepily heard some commotion outside. Throughout the next hour, the boat slowly stopped rocking. Bernard curled towards the couch and it's pillows, silently mourning the lack of soothing rocking.

A window opens.

Rain comes in.

A couple of steps towards Bernard's self claimed study mess area.

A click of the lamp's switch being turned off.

A lot more steps.

A series of clicks and zips echos throughout the small boat.

A shower turns on.

After a good while, the shower turns off.

A wet towel has been dropped, rustle of clothing.

Steps going towards to the couch, to himself, Bernard.

Bernard is not delusional, he knew that there was a good chance that Tim would still be on that week long "business trip" a little bit longer than he did he would. That Bernard would have a lot better chance of seeing Tim in their favorite breakfast restaurant tomorrow than Tim surprising Bernard by crashing into study session in own boathouse at this afternoon.

But the buzzing feeling of Tim of brushing the back of his hair was so addictive that he couldn't help but thank his lucky stars that he was a bit impatient today.

As Tim sinks into the couch and curls into Bernard, the his brushing of Bernard's hair turns into his hand skimming to Bernard's neck.

Bernard had to stop himself to chuckling from the ticklish feeling, but he did let himself reply with a hum. Bernard reached and stuck the Tim's wandering hand on his neck and turned around.

"Hey"

"Hey, yourself."

And that's when Bernard felt it. Bernard knows that Tim's other hand was supposed to be comforting and distracting Bernard by brushing his hair, but the brush of his neck turned to a soft press. The distraction would have worked it if it weren't for the vulnerability of Tim's eyes, he would have missed it. The look in Tim's eyes, makes Bernard wrap his arms and legs around him.

"Are you okay?"

Bernard wants to laugh, of course Tim asks him as of he doesn't have the eyes of a veteran soldier that just relived through their personal hell.

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"Hmm, just stressing about the company."

Tim pulls away, as he does, his hand travels away from Bernard's neck and on to his face. He rubs little circles on Bernard's face. Tim smiles.

Bernard wants to cry.

#timbern #tim x bernard #bernard dowd #i am so tired #I just wanted to write like two or three sentences and then this happens #did not mean for it to end sad #dont worry they will have that happy breakfast date tomorrow

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eekshade · 1 year ago

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Cliché

Bucky Barnes x m!reader

Word Count: 1353

Warnings/Info: very cheesy!!, Bucky paid in advance, I wrote this while tired so it's not the best, this isn’t a au; Bucky just needed a job because hero business doesn’t pay well, very brief mentions to y/n having bad past relationships

Part One

It has been around a week since Bucky and y/n had first met, the two talked briefly through text, before Bucky asked y/n out for their first date. Bucky has now found himself standing in a small flower shop near y/n’s place unable to choose what kind of flowers to get for him. After a few minutes of an internal debate he finally settled on a warmly colored bouquet with a mixed variety of flowers (favoring carnations and baby’s breath), he left the store with enough time to enjoy his walk and properly plan what he was going to say.

Bucky arrived at y/n’s door a few minutes early giving him time to stress, he hadn’t really thought about how nervous he was until he had to actually knock on the door. Deciding to just get it over with, he raised his right arm and softly hit the door three times. Less than a moment had passed before the door swung open to reveal y/n in all of his glory, dressed in casual clothing but in a way one could tell he was done up; a smile across his face, that only grew at the sight of the flowers.

“Hi.” Bucky greeted with a smile, as he handed the other man the blossom.

“Hey.” Y/n replied as he quickly, but ever so gently took the flowers from Bucky and brought them into his home gesturing Bucky to follow. Bucky watched as y/n put a drain stopper into the sink, filling it up slightly as a way to turn it into a makeshift vase.

“You ready?” Y/n asked, as he for the second time, looked Bucky up and down.

“Yeah.” Bucky replied as he led the way toward the door.

The walk was fairly fast because the restaurant was only a few blocks from y/n’s house, it was a cute, small place, it was dimly lit, almost a cross between a bar and a cafe. Bucky’s nerves were going mad as he watched y/n for his reaction; his heart only beating faster when he saw the smile etched onto the younger's face. The waiter came over to sit them at a two person table near a window.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.” Y/n commented as Bucky pulled his chair out for him.

“Oh how polite of you!” Y/n dramatically swooned with a hand over his forehead, as he sat.

“I try, I try.” Bucky joked back, he walked over to his chair after he pushed y/n in.

Both men laugh as they look down at their respective menus, they quietly decide what they both want to order. Y/n put his menu down, to find Bucky quietly staring at him. Before Bucky could get embarrassed by it y/n started to talk.

“Well Bucky, you already know quite a bit about me, I feel it's only right you level it out.” Y/n emphasized this by gently nudging Bucky’s foot with his own.

“What do you wanna know?” Bucky responded with a shy smile, he wanted to be able to bond but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get into the thick of it yet.

“How about we start with what you do for work.” Y/n softly questioned.

“I do a lot of random freelancing, mostly manual labor, sometimes for the government, but that’s kind of rare.” Bucky responded truthfully, trying to not lie, while not really telling the whole truth; at least not yet.

“You like it?”

“It’s not fun by any means but it gets me by, not that I’m complaining.” Bucky added the last part hastily.

“Oh no no no, I definitely get that.” Y/n replied with widened eyes and a smirk.

The waiter walks up to the table to give them both water and to take their orders. Y/n ordered first, then Bucky, the waiter scribbling them both down onto his pocket notepad. The two men fall into a comfortable rhythm of y/n (remembering that Bucky said he prefers to have others lead the conservation) asking Bucky questions about his life and for his opinions of current events, which Bucky was mostly confused by, seeing as he didn’t really pay attention to pop culture.

They finished their meals and the waiter asked if either of them wanted a box, they both declined, after the waiter walked away Bucky asked y/n if he’s ready to leave.

“We haven’t paid the bill yet.” Y/n laughed in response.

“I already got that, don’t you worry.” Bucky replied while he stood and started walking over to y/n.

“Awe, thank you but you know you didn’t have to.” Y/n half heartedly scolded him.

“Of course I did?” Bucky became confused when he saw y/n’s amused expression, “I asked you out, so I paid. It’s common decency.” He added.

“Huh.” Y/n offhandedly shrugged while he stood from the chair Bucky had just pulled out for him.

“What.”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m just not used to that I suppose.” Y/n and Bucky were now leisurely walking out of the restaurant.

Bucky tilts his head and smiles warmly, “I think you have just been hangin’ around the wrong people.” Y/n laughs to show his agreement.

Bucky walks y/n back to his place, making some brief small talk during it but mostly remaining in a comfortable silence. Bucky walks y/n up to his door and they stop in front of it.

“I don’t know about you, but I had a really good time.” Bucky states in a jokingly over the top tone.

“Yeah me too,” Y/n unlocks his door but doesn’t open it, instead choosing to lean his back against the frame of the door, looking at Bucky who stood two feet away at best. “Thank you really for dinner, even though I was more than willing to help pay.” Y/n added on in an accusatory tone.

“You’re too pretty to be worrying about all of that doll.” Bucky replied as he took a step forward, a smirk that was displayed on his face quickly grew into a smile after seeing y/n’s face at the pet name.

“Doll, huh?” Y/n responded as coolly as he possibly could.

“Yeah, do you not like it?” The question was not necessary as both parties already knew the answer.

“No, no,” y/n paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, “It’s cute.”

“Good, that’s kind of what I was going for.” Bucky replied evenly and y/n could have sworn he saw him wink.

The two men both stood still, as they stared quietly at each other. Bucky was the first to move as he slowly took another step toward the younger man. Y/n pushed himself off of the door frame now breaking away from Bucky’s eyes to look at his slightly chapped lips. Bucky softly grabbed y/n’s jaw with one hand and his neck with the other, pulling him into an even softer kiss. It lasted less than a few seconds, Bucky pulling away in order to gauge y/n’s reaction. Y/n breathed out a small noise of disappointment before laughing awkwardly; a laugh so quiet that Bucky could barely hear it despite being only inches away from the other male. Bucky, now sure that what he was doing was alright with y/n he kissed him again this time showing a bit more confidence, while still keeping the softness of it all. The pair only stopped for the sake of breathing, Bucky deciding he didn’t want to do too much on day one, was the first to back up.

“See you soon?” Bucky’s voice was quiet and full of hope.

“Of course.” Y/n responded in the same demeanor, unable to hide his lovesick smile.

“Bye, doll.” Bucky leaned forward and gave y/n a quick kiss on his temple before turning and walking away from the door, y/n watched for a small moment before finally going back into his own home.

| MARVEL MASTERLIST |

#marvel x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #male reader #bucky x male reader #mlm fanfic

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echo-goes-mmm · 9 months ago

Text

Silas and Wren 2.0 #5

Masterpost

Warnings: past dub/noncon

Silas paced in his room.

As much as he hated solitude, he’d grown accustomed to it. Now that he had company, what was there to say?

He’d gotten what he wanted, but it didn’t help the emptiness inside him.

Typical.

He stopped, sighing. Maybe… maybe he just needed some time. To get used to another person again; or maybe time for the pain of rejection to leave.

If it ever left.

Silas opened his door, bumping into Wren.

Wren squeaked at the impact. He stepped back, his honey-brown eyes wild.

“Sorry,” Silas apologized. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Wren's expression shifted in a flash, from fear to a placid smile, but Silas could hear his frantic heartbeat.

“I should have watched where I was going,” he said, polite as always. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Wren was afraid of him.

Of course Wren was afraid of him; how could he expect anything different? He shouldn’t hope for anything good from the universe. Nothing ever panned out right.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Wren’s relief was nearly imperceptible, but it was there.

“What’re you up to?” Silas asked.

Wren tensed again, and Silas could have smacked himself. “I’m only curious,” he added.

“I- I was looking for a duster, Master. To clean with.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t think I have one. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Master, I’ll make do,” Wren said with a sunny smile. It didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Silas wondered how many smiles Wren had faked before. He was too good at it.

“You don’t have to clean for me.”

Wren shifted. “I’d be happy to,” he said. “I don’t mind, Master.”

Silas knew a losing battle when he saw one.

“Well, alright. You don’t need to call me ‘master’, though. Just Silas will do.”

“Yes, Master Silas,” replied Wren automatically.

Silas sighed internally, and went downstairs.

So much for bonding. How did people make friends?

Silas scanned the bookshelf, looking for something to read.

Unfortunately, he had read all of his books many times, and he really didn’t feel like risking the streets for the bookstore.

The library was outside his pitiful territory, and out of the question.

Silas worried his lip. Maybe he could send Wren to buy a book or two?

He glanced at the clock. Ten pm. The bookstore closed at nine.

It was just as well, really. He couldn’t afford to spend money so frivolously. Sure, the banks were as happy to service vampires as they were humans- money was money after all- but his pockets were not as deep as most of his kin.

Wren alone was a sizable expense, and he had to buy food for him every week. Not to even mention furnishing the attic room. No new books for a while, then.

Silas grabbed a random title and sat in his armchair. He flipped to the first chapter, skimming the words.

Nothing jumped out at him; the plot couldn’t hold his attention. He had read it too many times.

Silas scrubbed a hand over his face.

He missed his sired siblings, even though they disliked him. He missed games and chatter and jokes, even if he was mostly left out.

But most of all he missed Felix; the only other person in his nest that didn’t hate him.

If only things had been different.

Silas sighed, and stood to put the book away.

___________________

Wren finished dusting the top of the kitchen shelves. No one had cleaned up there in ages, and no wonder. He had to climb on top of the counter to get to it.

Wren wiped off the counters one more time, and admired his work.

The kitchen was sparkling from top to bottom. He’d even mopped the floor, despite the lack of a proper mop.

Luckily, he’d found some rags in the bathroom closet. It seemed a rather strange place to keep them, but it wasn’t his place to question his Master’s organization system.

Speaking of his Master, Silas hadn’t fed from him yet. Surely he was hungry.

Wren put the stopper in the sink and filled it with hot water. He left the rags to soak, and went looking for his owner.

___________________

Master Silas was in the living room, staring off into space. His hands were folded in front of him, and his legs were stretched out.

Wren hesitated.

“Are you alright, Master?”

Silas turned his head, his gray eyes landing on him. Master looked away after only a moment.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Wren hesitated. “You haven’t had breakfast,” he said.

“I’m not hungry. Just… bored.”

What did he mean? A vampire who wasn’t hungry? Laughable. Incomprehensible. Then again, who was Wren to question him?

Boredom, though, he could fix.

Wren didn’t particularly want to at the moment- he was probably covered in dust- but it was about time he did his duty for Master Silas.

“I could entertain you, Master,” he offered, keeping his voice as pleasant and agreeable as possible.

Silas looked at him again. Wren’s hands twitched at the hem of his shirt, waiting for the order to strip.

It didn’t come.

Silas stood up. He walked to the shelf, and pulled down a box.

Confusion and relief swirled through him. A game. Just a board game.

“Do you know how to play Carcassonne?”

“I can learn, Master.”

Silas set the box on the coffee table, and Wren inched forward. Master began to pull out the pieces, and Wren sat on the rug across from him.

One day, soon, Master Silas would take him to the bedroom and Wren would find out what kind of Master he was. What he liked, and how to really please him.

But for now, Master wanted him to play a game.

Wren tried to pay attention as Master Silas explained the rules, but a thought nagged at him.

Why didn’t Silas want to bed him?

No one had ever turned him down before. He never really had to offer before, either. It was a given; understood that Wren was always available. No Master needed to be bored when he was around.

It had been three days and Silas showed no sign of interest.

No Master had ever waited so long. Some took him into the bedroom immediately, others waited until evening came. One in particular, the worst of them, had bent him over the nearest piece of furniture as soon as they had walked through the door.

But three days? Unheard of.

Silas placed the first square, and Wren was struck with a horrifying thought.

Was something wrong with him?

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