#I just want them to be safe and warm and together

[mugglebornmarvelite]

hi, girly girl ♡♡♡

i’m re-reading your grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader series (bc of course i am) and i was wondering, if you’re taking requests, what your thoughts are about:

💭 something happening to sunshine!reader, during a mission or something else, and she’s emotional (maybe hurt) and frantically asking for bucky. cue extra-protective!grumpy!bucky.

k love u bye

hi, babe :))

it started out as thoughts and I worked it into a lil something something

love you more <3

You came? You called.

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: The team’s brightest light shatters after a mission gone wrong, and only one person can put her back together.

Bucky Barnes :)

Word Count: Roughly 900 words 

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries mentioned (barely), mentions of blood, overprotective and soft Bucky, physical and emotional distress, a lil bit of angst (but just a pinch)

Author’s Note: I don't know where I was going with this, but I tried :(

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Divider by: @strangergraphics

You’re not supposed to cry.

You're supposed to sparkle. 

You're supposed to laugh like you’ve never tasted bitterness, bounce off the walls like gravity never quite applied to you, and leave glitter bombs and rainbow cupcakes in your wake. 

You're the sunshine of the team, the chaos incarnate with fingers covered in icing from baking every other day, held together by too much energy and not enough fear.

But right now, you’re sobbing, shaking so hard it rattles your bones.

The safe house is too quiet. 

Too sterile. 

You hate the quiet.

Your world is made of giggles and explosions and yelling at Tony for calling you “a walking serotonin factory,” like it’s not the biggest compliment ever.

Steve’s kneeling next to you, his voice is soft, words calm and even, like a warm blanket. 

Nat’s crouched just behind him, her clothes smeared with blood that’s not hers. You know what that means. She already got them, the ones who hurt you.

But none of that matters.

You want him.

“Bucky,” you whisper softly, the name tumbling out between hiccups.

Steve tries to soothe you. “He’s coming, sunshine. He’s on his way.”

But that only makes it worse. It hurts, how badly you need him. The tight, aching space in your chest pulses with panic.

You try to push yourself off the couch even though your leg won't work right. The pain flares, sharp and hot, but not as bad as the panic clawing through your ribs. “I need him now. Please. I want Bucky.”

Your voice breaks, shatters into something raw and desperate.

Steve looks helpless. Even Captain America doesn’t know how to hold back the sun when it starts to implode.

Nat lays a hand on your shoulder. Her touch is light but firm. “He’s coming,” she says quietly. “He’s already ripping apart the walls to get to you.”

That sounds like him.

It helps, but not enough. 

The tears keep coming, stupid and hot, blurring everything. Your fingers grip the blanket around you, but it’s not what you want. 

You want metal and leather and the calloused hands that catch you midair when you launch off rooftops without a second thought. You want the gruff voice that mutters complaints when you bounce in front of him, bright and too close, but never pulls away.

You want Bucky.

And then he’s there.

Steve barely gets out of the way before Bucky’s next to you, metal hand cupping your cheek like you’re made of something too precious to break.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Sunshine, what did they do to you?”

Your hands reach out to grab him, clutching at his jacket, his shoulder, his neck, anything that’s him. 

You curl into him like a sunflower searching for sunlight, burying your face in his chest and gasping like you can’t breathe without him. 

He smells safe. 

Like home.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” you sob into him. “I was so scared. I thought…”

He’s already wrapping around you, his flesh hand holding the back of your head, metal arm tucking you into him, so close there’s no space between your body and his. “Shh. I’m here, baby. You’re safe now. I got you. Nobody’s touching you ever again.”

You nod, even as the tears soak through his shirt. His lips press to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. Like, if he kisses you enough, he can erase what happened.

“You’re late,” you whisper, your voice trembling and watery.

“I know, dollface,” he murmurs, his voice cracking at the edges. “I should’ve been faster.”

Steve clears his throat, somewhere behind you. “Maybe give her a second to breathe, Buck.”

“I am breathing,” you mutter into Bucky’s neck, your voice muffled but stubborn.

Bucky glares at Steve. “She wants me, she gets me. End of story.”

Nat smirks from the corner, arms crossed. “She was begging for you like the world was ending.”

“She’s my world,” Bucky shoots back without hesitation.

He tilts your chin up gently, and when your glassy eyes meet his, he winces. “Look at what they did to my baby,” he whispers. “Your face. Your leg...” He trails off, breathing hard, like he might go find the bastards and rip them apart again just for good measure.

“Nat already got them,” you say, sniffling, managing a tiny smile. “Bet she looked really cool doing it, too.”

“I wanted to be the one to end them,” he mutters darkly.

You tug on his sleeve. “You’re here now. That’s better, the best thing ever. Promise.”

He melts at that, just enough. His forehead presses to yours. “You scared me, you little menace.”

“I scare everyone,” you mumble, eyes drooping as the exhaustion catches up with you. “But you always come back.”

“Always, sunshine.” He kisses the tip of your nose, holding you like you’re breakable. “You’re my favorite chaos.”

You hum, smiling sleepily at him, and he has to look away so he doesn’t fold. “I like when you call me that.”

“I’d like it even more if you didn’t almost get yourself killed,” he mutters. “No more solo missions. No more running ahead without backup. No more playing bait.”

“But I’m good bait,” you protest, nuzzling into his chest.

“I don’t care. No more.” His voice is final. His grip is absolute. “You’re sticking with me.”

And maybe that sounds like a means of control to anyone else.

But you? You just smile.

Because you’re safe. 

Because he’s here.

Even the brightest light needs a shadow to guard it.

And Bucky Barnes is your favorite one.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp @winchestert101 @thatesqcrush @bamitzzsam @grubler @peaches1958 @helen-2003 @ickearmn @Kimmie113080 @Xgbtmdmx @buckysbunnie @Shower-me-with-roses @pigeonmama @civilbucky @piinksdoll @desimarie12 @sleepysongbirdsings @barnesb420 @Suffereroflife @pigeonmama @yes-ilovetowrite @shadowstar1072 @serenaivy

[mysteriousxgirls]

He didn’t speak. And the silence stretched—thick, uncertain. Luna stood there, caught in the stillness, the weight of her own words pressing down like something too heavy to carry back. Maybe she’d said too much. Maybe not enough. She watched as he stripped off his hoodie, then his joggers—slow, deliberate, not for comfort, not for show. Just… unarmoring. And when he sat at the edge of her bed, shoulders tight, hands braced on his thighs like he was holding himself together with sheer force, something cracked quietly inside her. “I—I don’t…” Her voice caught, barely a whisper. “I don’t know.. I just…” She trailed off. Because how do you speak a truth that feels like it will shatter the world between you? She couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Not that her days were numbered. Not that there was something inside her—a tumor, quiet and merciless—that would eventually steal everything. She couldn’t risk the look that might flicker in his eyes. Pity. Fear. Distance. She didn’t want to become someone he had to protect.

So instead, she moved toward him. Slowly. Like the space between them had changed shape. Like gravity had realigned itself just to pull her to him. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand—light, testing—then wrapped around it, firm and sure. Warm. Alive. She sank to her knees before him, until their eyes were level. Until there was nothing between them but breath and silence and everything they didn’t say. “Your darkness,” she said, voice steady despite the quake in her chest, “it’s mine now, too. Your pain… I carry it with you.” Her lips trembled, but her hands—God, her hands—were steady as they rose to his face, cupping it like something precious, something she wasn’t afraid of breaking. Her thumbs swept gently along his cheeks, memorizing him with every touch. She stayed like that, watching him, holding him, until something inside her eased. Then she rose again—not away, but closer—and climbed onto the bed behind him. Her arms wrapped around his tense form, pulling him back into the sanctuary of her chest. She pressed her lips to his shoulder, featherlight, like a vow. “You and your heart,” she whispered, “you’re safe with me.”

She said it like a secret. Like something sacred. Because I don’t know how long that even is for me. The words carved through the haze in his mind, sharper than any blade he'd ever carried. He wasn’t sure she was speaking in metaphors. It was like she knew. Azriel stilled—completely. Even the shadows that clung to him, always coiling and restless, went silent. Listening. His breath left him in a slow, controlled exhale. Then, without a word, he reached for the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head. The fabric dragged over his scarred hands. He didn’t rush. Didn’t break eye contact. Didn’t let himself look away from her. Next were the cargo bottoms—unbuckled, unzipped, folded with quiet care before being set aside. He left the black vest on. Left the boxers. He wasn’t undressing for seduction. He was shedding the armour, the barriers.

The shadows didn’t fight him. They drifted back like mist burned away by sunlight. Then he sat on the edge of the bed. Shoulders tense, hands braced on his thighs, head bowed—but far from shame. His voice, when it came, was low. Rough. “You said that like you already know.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t push. But his silence—his stillness—was a tether. An invitation. And in the quiet that followed, he waited.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Miles Between, Heartbeats Close


Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader


Warnings: Long-distance relationship, angst, smut (kinda? I guess?), emotional intimacy, soft domestic moments, implied PTSD/nightmares, tender vulnerability, language


Author’s Note: IM BACK BABY!! Sorry I was visiting family and friends so here we are! Enjoy this!!


Summary: Loving a soldier means learning how to live in pieces—and how to put them back together when they come home.

Masterlist


MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

——

One Week Before Deployment

He didn't wear the mask around you. Not in bed, not at home, not when he was cooking you eggs at midnight in just a pair of sweats and his dog tags.

You were wrapped in one of his shirts, leaning on the counter with a mug of tea, watching him cook. He felt your eyes on him.

“What?” he said, glancing over his shoulder, spatula in hand.

“Just thinking,” you murmured.

“Dangerous,” he replied, smirking.

You walked up behind him and hugged his waist, pressing your cheek to the scarred expanse of his back. “I’m going to miss you.”

He stilled, just for a second.

“I’ll miss you more.” His hand came down to cover yours, squeezing gently. “Keep my shirt on. Sleep in it. That way, I’m there even when I’m not.”

You kissed his spine. “I love you.”

He turned, leaned down, and kissed you slow, with the kind of ache that meant he’d already started missing you too.

——

02:14 AM (Present Time)

The clock blinked 02:14 AM again. You hadn’t realized it had been an hour since you last looked. You were curled up on Simon’s side of the bed, his hoodie drowning your frame, your phone clutched tightly in your palm.

You wanted to hear his voice more than anything, but war didn’t cater to desire.

Still safe?

It wasn’t much, but it was honest. The response came five minutes later.

Simon:

Still safe. Tired. Thinking about you.
Want to be home. With you. In our bed.

You bit your lip and blinked away the sting in your eyes.

You:

I miss how you hold me like I’m the last warm thing in the world.
Come home, Simon.

Simon:

Trying.
Want to kiss you breathless.
Need to feel you under me. Soon.

Your breath hitched.

You remembered the way his voice sounded right against your ear, gravel and smoke when he let the mask slip — only for you.

——

Three Weeks Before Deployment

You were in the kitchen, standing on your tiptoes to reach a jar on the top shelf, when Simon came up behind you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other snagged the jar easily before setting it down beside you.

“Too short for your own good,” he murmured into your hair, lips brushing your temple.

You rolled your eyes. “You love that I’m fun-sized.”

“Fun, yeah,” he said, spinning you around and lifting you onto the counter with ease. His hands spread over your thighs, thumbs brushing soft circles against bare skin beneath your shorts. “Size? Perfect.”

His forehead pressed to yours. That quiet moment burned itself into your soul — his gentle hands, the way his lips brushed yours like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“Tell me to stay,” he whispered. “I will.”

You shook your head then, cupping his cheek. “You’ll come back to me. You always do.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed. “But I’m yours anyway.”

——

Present

Your fingers ghosted over the screen again, heart thudding.

You:

Remember when we fell asleep on the couch watching that terrible horror movie?
You kept waking me up because I was drooling on your shirt.

Simon:

That’s when I knew.
You, half-asleep, hogging the blanket.
Felt like peace.
Like home.

You pulled his pillow closer to your chest and inhaled. Faint traces of his scent still clung there: cedarwood, gun oil, and warmth.

You typed, slow and honest.

You:

I want you to kiss me like that again.
Like you mean it. Like you need it.
Like you did before you left.

A pause.

Simon:

When I get back, I’m not stopping at kissing.
I’m going to make you forget the time I was gone.
Going to have you under me until you’re shaking.

You shivered, eyes fluttering shut, thighs pressing together at the raw truth of his words.

——

The Reunion

You opened the door before he could knock.

Simon stood there, duffel bag on the ground, hair longer, scruffier than when he left. His eyes — those endlessly haunted eyes — locked onto yours like a man dying of thirst who’d finally found water.

You barely got his name out before his arms were around you, pulling you in, lifting you clean off the ground.

Your lips met fast and desperate, teeth and breath and the softest of whimpers escaping you. You tasted sand and sweat and Simon, and your whole body shook with it.

He kicked the door shut with one foot, walked you backward until your spine hit the wall, and kissed you again like he couldn’t breathe without you.

“I missed you,” you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Say it again,” he breathed into your neck.

“I missed you.”

His voice cracked. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Simon. I’ve always been yours.”

He crushed his mouth to yours and picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom. You barely made it to the bed — he didn’t want slow, not yet. Not until he'd burned off the desperation, the need to prove he was still real, still alive, still yours.

Clothes hit the floor in a trail. His hands were rough with calluses, but they moved over you like reverence. He whispered your name like a prayer. Apologies mixed with low moans, every thrust a wordless plea: I'm here. I'm home. I'm yours. Please don’t forget me.

And when you finally gasped his name like it was salvation, when you clawed at his back and pulled him tighter, he let go — not just of control, but of fear. Of the war. Of everything.

——

A little while later, you lay tangled in the sheets, his arm over your waist. His breath warm against your neck. He kissed your shoulder, soft and unhurried.

“Still with me?” he murmured.

You turned to face him. “Always.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Never leaving again unless I have to.”

“You’ll always come back.”

He kissed your temple. “Every time.”

——

Morning After

You woke tangled in each other — your legs wrapped around his waist, your cheek on his chest, your fingers laced over his heart.

He was already awake, watching you.

“You stayed,” you whispered, voice still husky from sleep — and the night before.

“I always will,” he murmured, brushing your hair back.

You kissed the underside of his jaw, smiled against his skin. “You’re warm. Heavy.”

“Don’t move,” he said. “Just stay like this. Let the world wait.”

And you did.

——

Later That Day

The day passed slow. Coffee in bed. Showers that turned into giggles and soft touches. He cooked breakfast shirtless, and you wore one of his old t-shirts with nothing else. He kissed syrup from your mouth and lifted you onto the counter to have another taste.

No war. No uniforms. No mask.

Just Simon. And you.

He didn’t need to say much. His hands said it all — the way he touched you like you were sacred. The way he reached for you even in silence.

And that night, when he laid you down again, it was slow. Worshipful. Not like he’d just come home — but like he finally was home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 33

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: A question you asked yourself, over and over again, through the past year, was is safety real? Is freedom real? Even now, as you lay in a warm, clean bed, surrounded by kind faces, you didn't trust it. Could you ever be safe again?

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Mention of torture. Needles. Angst. Loss. Missing Bucky.

Authors Note: I loved all the comments on the last chapter!!!! Thank you guys for always messaging me and commenting. I love the interactions. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Seeing is believing. You’d heard the saying many times before throughout life. And as a scientist, you were one of the people saying it. 

When you see it, you’ll believe it. 

But one day, something changed, and even sight felt like a lie. You couldn’t trust yourself anymore. Your thoughts, your senses, your mind. But even when you started to believe something was real, so real you could feel it, you couldn’t trust that it would last. 

Because safety wasn’t something you could see. It was something you had to be. And you never thought you would ever feel safe again.

Your name is Y/n. 

You remember your name. You remember your family. You remember your past. You remember the pain. You remember the fear. You haven't forgotten who you are. 

You couldn’t.

And yet, everything felt wrong.

You laid in a clean, warm bed. White light surrounded you. Needles stuck in your veins, feeding an IV into your system. Your body was clean. Your hair was combed back out of your face.

You stared numbly at the ceiling, lines of fluorescent lights blinding you. 

Everything was so bright, and felt so clean. 

A stark contrast to the dark, cold hole you’d been left to rot in for weeks.

A figure moved to your left. You didn’t feel the urge to look, to move. You just wanted to sleep. But that figure moved again, now facing you. You blinked up at them, and the kind smile you were faced with. It was a woman, one you’d never seen before. 

The woman fretted over you, but you could barely hold your focus. Your eyes rolled back as she drew close. You succumb to darkness.

The next time you woke, there was a woman with red hair sitting at the end of your bed, staring out the nearest window. Your lashes fluttered in a blink, your lids still crusted together slightly. The woman hadn’t seemed to notice your eyes rolling open. The woman chewed at her thumb nail, her pale nail turning red under the pressure.

You watched her through the corner of your eye, dragging your gaze over her form. She seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t place it. A part of you wondered if it was real at all, if you were real. 

Weeks in solitude turned your mind into a stranger, and over time everything became warped.

You licked your cracked lips. “I-” no sound left your throat at first, your mouth too dry. “I know you,” you whispered.

The woman’s gaze snapped to you, the surprise in her eyes quickly shifting. “Hey,” she stood, slowly approaching the bed. You stiffened, the soft beeping from the machine beside you picking up. The woman raised her hands, offering peace. “I’m not gonna hurt you, you’re safe.”

The woman's voice was deep, slightly scratchy, but kind. Your gaze flickered over her face, recognition slowly dawning on you. “I’ve-” you licked your lips again, clearing your throat. “I’ve seen you…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “On tv.”

The woman nodded, “I’m Natasha. You’re…Y/n, right? I’ve seen you too, on tv.”

You blinked slowly, a shaky breath leaving your chest. You hadn’t heard someone else say your name in a long time. “You have?”

She nodded. “You’ve been on the news a few times. You’ve been missing.”

“Where…where am I?” Your head lolled to the side, seeing the large expanse of a high tech lab.

“You’re in the Avengers tower.” Natasha informed you. “You were being held captive in a Hydra base in Slovenia, out of eastern Europe.” She continued, her voice quiet, almost like she was trying not to make you panic. 

“Slovenia…” you muttered, closing your burning eyes. Hot tears stung and dripped down your temples silently. An ache traveled and throbbed through your skull.

You're in the Avengers Tower. They found you.

They found you.

“Y/n, why were you there?” 

Images of guilty blue eyes burned in your mind. You wondered, absently, how long it had been since you last saw him. It didn’t feel like it had been long, but you couldn’t tell. You dragged a heavy hand up to your left shoulder, sliding your fingers beneath your papery gown. Natasha watched you, confused. 

Without much thought, you pressed gently against the bandages that wrapped around your previously gaping bullet wound. You winced, a sharp ache traveling through the previously torn muscles. The pain was noticeable, but not fresh. It had long since begun to swell closed.

Which could only mean it had been a long while since you last saw Bucky.

“Y/n?” Natasha called out to you.

“How long have… how long?”

“How long what?” Natasha responded.

“How long have I been gone?” A long silence followed, making you turn to look at the woman. The uneasy look on her face made your stomach turn. “Please…” 

Dread built inside your stomach, curling and knotting.

“It’s been a little over a year since you disappeared from your lab.”

Those words, the reality of it all, sent a sickening ache through your body. Your throat closed up, bile rising. Your cheeks soured and you turned your head quickly. Natasha seemed to get the memo, and fetched a small trash can.

You retched, your body convulsing as saliva dripped into the bin. Your stomach was empty, which only made you feel more sick. You pressed your cheek into the pillow, shivering.

A year.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay-”

You shook your head. “I can’t-” you heaved, your spit smearing on the pillow. You squeezed your eyes closed, thoughts of your family and friends- your life- flashing through your head. You’d lost it all. 

You knew it had been a long time. You had seen calendars in the corner stores. You had seen it in the changing weather. You knew time had passed. But actually hearing it changed everything. 

You felt sick.

Your birthday had passed. Christmas, halloween, your friends and families lives. It had all flown past you.

You’d lost so much of your life. And there was a reason you stayed away.

“Y/n-”

“I can’t be here-” you whispered, realization dawning on you. “I was gone- I can’t come back.” You lost that time because there was no coming home. There was no coming back. They would find you. “They’re gonna kill me-” your trembling hands reached for the wires stuck to your chest. You needed to get out of there. You needed to go-

“Y/n, breathe-!” Natasha grabbed you by the wrists, keeping you from yanking out your IV. “Breathe!”

“They’re gonna kill me!” You sobbed dry tears.

“No one is coming!” Natasha urged. “You’re safe! You’re safe, Y/n!” Natasha held you still, slowly wishing she would have switched places with Steve. He was much better at things like this. “You’re with the Avengers, I told you.” Her voice softened. “We brought you straight here, nobody knows we have you.”

Those words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, your entire body went lax. “No-No one knows?” You whispered between staggered breaths. 

“No one knows.” You stopped fighting her, allowing Natasha to slowly release you. “But we need to know, Y/n, why were you there?” 

You took a second, hanging on her first words. No one knows. You’re a ghost, back in the states. The dread you’d grown so familiar with shifted from a sizzling burn, to a warm prick in your veins. 

You released a trembling breath, your muscles relaxing. 

Your ease lasted only a second, as Natasha repeated her question. Why were you a prisoner of Hydra? Why were you there? Your eyes slid closed, horrors flashing in the dark space that was your mind. The question was an easy one. But it wasn’t simple. 

James Barnes was the reason you spent the last year and a half as a ghost. Bucky Barnes was the reason you had slipped into the shadows. The Winter Soldier was the reason Hydra wanted you dead.

Bucky.

Where was he? Was he safe? Had they caught him? They couldn’t have, or else they would have gotten rid of you on sight. He was alive. He was safe. 

Natasha sighed softly, glancing at the machine that tracked your heartbeat. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” She muttered. You heard her footsteps fade, but your consciousness was already fading. 

You were floating. Like a leaf, dropping from its home in the sky to drift along an icy river. You were foreign in your own body, like a dream blurring at the edges.

Nothing was real.

It was all just your broken, warped mind. 

You couldn’t trust yourself. You couldn’t trust anyone. 

You were lost. 

Steve was the next to visit you. You had just woken up, having not realized when you fell asleep. You whimpered when you tried to stretch, your malnourished, bruised limbs aching. You heard the chair at the end of your bed creak, and then he was right there.

“Are you alright? Should I get the doctor?” Were his first words. His blonde hair seemed white under the fluorescent lights. 

He looked different, standing before you now. You’d only ever seen the man in his famous suit, dressed in the flag of freedom. You’d only ever seen pictures. But here he was now, dressed in casual wear, staring down at you with these wide blue eyes.

You blinked up at him in awe. 

Before all of this, before you were taken, before your life was destroyed, you’d had a fascination with his story. You always thought that Steve Rogers was one of the most incredible things the world had ever seen. A man out of time. 

But now you looked at him with so much more than that childhood wonder. You looked at him knowing things he didn’t. You looked at him, your mind reeling and begging to spill everything you knew about Bucky.

But you couldn’t. Not yet. You didn’t know anything yet, and you needed to be sure.

“You…” you whispered, “you’re real?”

He cracked an awkward smile. “Yeah, I’m real, kid.” 

You smiled ruefully, the nickname reminding you of Bucky. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he chuckled. “How are you feeling?” His big blue eyes looked droopy, soft and kind. For such a large man, he seemed so sweet. 

“Awful,” you whispered, your smile wavering. He nodded in response, waiting for you to continue. “What’s going on?”

“We recovered you from a Hydra base located in Slovenia. Natasha said she already filled you in on that bit. Why you're here, that's a whole different matter.” Steve started, his voice steady, like he was still on duty. “You were the only prisoner there. They seemed awfully keen on keeping you hidden, too.”

You listened, staring blankly at the ceiling again. You had never left the small room they kept you in, so you really had no idea if there were others there, in that cold tunnel system.

“We brought you here because it seemed like the safest option,” he continued. “We haven’t alerted the media yet, or your family. We wanted to know what the circumstances were, first.”

“They can’t- they can’t know.” You blurted, your gaze darting back to his. He nodded, watching you with a pinched brow. “No one can know.”

“Why?”

It was such a loaded question, but such a reasonable one. How could you answer without giving everything away? “I…” you trailed, a guilty feeling turning in your gut. Steve waited, patiently. 

What could you even say?

For a moment, you believe it was best to just tell him everything. But then you thought better of yourself. No one would want to find Bucky more than Steve. And that would be the most sure fire way to expose Bucky to the world. To every threat out there waiting for him.

You gaped up at him, shaking your head lightly. “I…”

Steve pressed his lips together, looking dissatisfied, but not surprised. “Alright. That’s okay.” His hand moved forward, but paused mid air, like he was going to pat your shoulder but thought better of it. “Can you at least tell me about your condition? The doctors did what they could to treat your surface wounds, but we didn’t want to do anything further until you woke up.”

You licked your cracked lips. “I, uh- can I get some water, first?” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, like he hadn’t even thought about it. “Right- of course!” You watched his figure retreat around the corner of a short curtain pulled beside your bed. He returned after a moment with a plastic cup of water.

With your permission, he helped prop your bed up so you could drink. The water felt like it came straight from a clear glacier, the way it slid down your throat. You gulped it down with a gasp, then clutched the cup to your chest. After catching your breath, you continued. 

“I’ve had more than a few problems…” you whispered. “They didn't carve into me, this time, thankfully.” After they’d scooped you up in Romania, you were expecting the worst. Only, there were no knives or clamps charged with electricity. They used the older methods, simple, like waterboarding, or pressing against the open gunshot wound in your shoulder. But nothing new.

You weren’t important enough.

“All of my internal wounds have… healed, somewhat.” You avoided the man's gaze, feeling the weight of his questions. You knew what he was thinking. She’s been with them for two years. Bucky’s been with them for decades. What had he endured? “I’ve been in the dark for weeks. That’s it. They just…waited.” 

“What for?” He cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“To use me.” You knew the only reason they had to keep you alive was to find Bucky. You were their next best clue. And they would wait you out, if they had to. They wanted their asset back. “I knew something. That’s it. They just…They wanted to know.”

Steve nodded, his arms crossing over his chest. “That something, it's what you can’t say, right?” You nodded. “Alright. So, all of your injuries are either surface level, or somewhat healed? There's nothing pressing to worry about?”

You knew what he was asking. “They didn’t experiment on me.”

He shifted, but nodded. “Right.” He paused. “Look, Y/n, whatever it is you know- what you’re too afraid to say, you’re safe here. We can protect you. We can help you.”

You shifted uncomfortably under your covers. “I just…” you cleared your throat. “I just need time. I need to think, please.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. When you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

But could you ever be ready? What was the right choice? If you told Steve, he would charge through Romania to find Bucky. Bucky would be left exposed. If he were to return to the states, he may just be locked up. He may be set to death. But then again, was Steve Bucky’s only chance? There were too many moving variables. 

You just couldn’t make that decision.

Recovery, as you once said before, was awful. It felt like you were in a constant state of disrepair. Over and over again, your once perfectly healthy body was mangled and abused. You tried to keep a brave face and push through. You tried to tell yourself this would be the last time. 

But you said that last time. 

You said it every time.

You were starting to accept the fact that you may never be fine.

So with that, you started your journey again. From the bottom. You were pumped full of fluids and set on a detox journey from all the drugs that had been flooding your system for weeks. You were finally able to eat again, and real food at that. One of the perks of finding sanctuary in the Avengers Tower was Tony Stark's money. 

Your medical bills were non-existent and your meals were completely free. You knew there was a silent price, but you tried to ignore that in favor of focusing on your recovery. 

You made that choice a lot lately. Pocketing all thoughts for later. The good and the bad. The one that recurred the most though, of course, was Bucky.

It would always be Bucky.

You still had no idea what to do. You wished the decision wasn’t up to you. You wished you didn’t have to make the choice, expose Bucky, or let him sink into the shadows forever. 

But only you had the information. Only you could help him. 

As the days passed, you were set up with a nutritionist and a physical therapist. You could barely stand on your own, after so many weeks without motion. So you desperately needed the help.

They started small, with minor exercises and stretches. It ached and burned, but it felt right. It felt good to move your body again. 

Between moments of fitful rest and physical therapy, you researched. You had requested a laptop be loaned to you, so you could catch up on all the time you’d lost. 

It was true. But you wanted it for more than that. You needed to know what was out there about you, about Bucky, about Hydra.

And god, did you learn. 

You learned that your family spent months in constant search of you. There were GoFundMes, blogs, news articles, and fliers posted all across your old corner of the city. Your dad never gave up hope.

You learned from your sister's instagram that she got pregnant with her first child shortly after your disappearance. A little baby girl. On the celebration post announcing her birth, it showed the child's middle name as Y/n. 

Your sister posted about you every month on the anniversary of your disappearance. She raised hell for you.

You sobbed into your fist as you scrolled through her posts, and those of your friends, aching and weeping over all that you’d lost. All that they’d lost. 

And god, you were so close you could almost taste it.

You wanted to go home and throw yourself into your loved ones arms, but you couldn’t yet. It was too dangerous. You had to stay gone until you knew it was safe. Until you knew that Hydra was gone, or until your worth was outweighed. 

Over time you met the world renowned Avengers. 

You met most of them in passing, seeing them through the med bay windows, or as they stopped by the lab. You were basically chained to your bed, your legs barely able to hold your own weight. 

Natasha and Steve stopped by the most. As well as another woman named Wanda. You’d heard of her, back when Sokovia was under fire. You watched the news. But in person, she recluse. Human. 

She originally stopped by out of curiosity, but then was put on watch duty. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust you, they just didn’t take chances. And you were one of the biggest chances around.

Wanda was a kind woman, though sometimes a bit sharp and melancholy. She had a dry sense of humor. And she was always able to help lull you to sleep when your nightmares woke you. 

Tony Stark was one of the people you were most aghast to have met, though. He was exactly like you expected him to be. Self absorbed, boisterous, always lacking a certain room-reading skill. He had an out of tune quip for just about everything. He felt particularly awkward with you though.

A woman who spent the last year and a half teetering on death. How did one make light of that?

Although, he had his own experience with it, so he was able to make light of his own trauma to ease you. He popped by the lab the most. Your little corner was in the med bay, which was a few glass doors and a bridge away from the lab. But he always popped by. 

When you started your physical therapy, a week in, he started offering solutions to your heavy limp. “We could get you into surgery for that, you know. Unless you want to keep hobbling around like that.” He pointed at you with the tip of a pen. The physical therapist beside you was silent, continuing to help you step along. 

“For my leg?” Your brows lifted. 

“No, for lipo. Yes, your leg.”

You fought the urge to clench your jaw. The offer was actually something you hadn’t dared to dream of. “I…I would love that. But- wouldn’t I have to go to a hospital?”

Tony rolled his eyes, setting something metal on the counter top. “If you’re still keeping your secrets locked up, then no hospital. You make me feel like a prison guard, you won't even get too close to the window.” He lifted a brow. “We could have it set up here.”

You released a breath of relief. “I’d like that, just-” you paused, staring down at yourself. “Not yet.” Your body couldn’t take another recovery, not like this.

“You’re basically a walking wound. It makes me feel icky.” He muttered, turning back to whatever he was working on.

“Thank you.” You huffed, taking another slow step with your PT.

One dark night, as you stared up at the sparkling lights of the city scape, you decided. 

It had been days. Weeks. Too long. You didn’t know what was happening out there. You didn’t know what the chances were. But you knew one thing. Bucky’s only chance at a free life was Steve. 

“Hey, kid.” Steve popped his head around the corner of the privacy curtain. “You wanted to see me?”

You fisted the knit blanket thrown over your lap. “Yeah…” you nodded. “Can you sit?”

He dragged over a stiffly modern chair and sat at your bedside, his brows furrowed with patience. He watched as you picked at your nails, chewing your words. Your mind was a whirlwind of fast thoughts and half baked confessions. 

“I’m a doctor, you know?” You blurted.

He nodded. “Yeah, I read your file.” He said thoughtfully.

You chewed at the inside of your cheek. “They took me because I’m a doctor. I’m good at what I do.” You paused. “Not to boast about myself, it's just a fact. That's why they picked me.”

He watched you silently. You couldn’t bear the weight of those big blue eyes.

“You’d wonder why- I mean, Hydra has an arsenal of everyone they might need.” You squeezed your eyes shut, remembering the descriptions of the fate of the doctor before you. “They’re impatient people, you know? They had a patient and they wanted results. I could give that to them.”

“Are you saying there’s another hostage?” Steve interrupted, his back straightening slightly.

You shook your head. “No, not any more.” You turned to look at him now. “The patient-” You paused. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t bear this weight. “The patient was Bucky.” The words slipped out before you could think to word it better. Steve's brows shot to his hairline. His throat bobbed as he physically swallowed your confession.

“What?”

“I…I was taken because The Winter Soldier was experiencing unknown side effects from his cryo chamber- and their shotty serum. He was experiencing heavy muscular degeneration and weakness.” You rattled off, slipping into the safest world you knew: doctor. “He was sick, but I fixed him.”

Steve stared at you with a slackened jaw. “He was there? At the compound?” He rushed out the words like he was already finding new ways to blame himself for failing his friend. 

“No! No, he wasn’t.” You urged. “He wasn’t there.”

“Where is he?” His brows knit tightly together as his jaw set. 

“Romania. Bucharest, Romania. That’s where we were hiding out- but we got separated.” Your voice grew quiet. Your gaze drifted to the blankets. “It was my idea, my fault.” You huffed. “But it happened, and we got separated.”

“Where in the city? I-”

“He won’t be there anymore.” Your own words hit you with a deep ache. “We planned for this. If something happened to me, he was supposed to relocate to somewhere I don’t know about.” You snubbed his lead short. “I’m…I’m sorry, Steve.” You whispered. 

The hopeful glint in his eye didn’t die out. In fact, he looked more determined than ever. “Could you please tell me everything in your plan? Safe houses, routes, drop sites, anything.”

You blinked at him, your stomach twisting. “You have to be careful.”

He tilted his head, confusion mixing in his expression. “What?”

“You’ll lead them to him.” You whispered, your body almost seizing up with panic at the mere idea. “This is what they’re waiting for. I read online- well, there’s a lot on there about this but- I read that you are the reason Pierce is dead. Right?”

He nodded thoughtfully, quietly hearing you out.

“People seem to think that what happened a year ago- the fall of Shield and Hydra- means Hydra is actually gone. But it’s not. They never will be- they’re buried so deep, you don’t even know.” You rambled, panic swelling in your chest. “They’re like a weed. I read that the Avengers routinely clear out old bases. So you think you’ve squashed them. But you haven’t. They’re waiting for this. They want to find him.”

“Hey, breathe,” Steve reached a hand out, patting your arm. You hadn’t even noticed you’d started to hyperventilate. “I know, okay? I do. I know how corrupt this world is.” His deep, steady voice washed over you. “I know how deep it all is. But if I don’t get to him, then they will. So please, help me find him.”

In that moment, as you looked at Steve, he looked just like the boy Bucky once told you stories about.

The search for Bucky died almost immediately, as Steve was called away on an urgent mission in Lagos Nigeria. He’d taken half the team with him, and a whole lot of your hope.

The night of your confession, you spent all hours until dawn telling him everything you knew. You told him about your capture, about Bucky’s health, about the conditions of your captivity, about your escape. You told him about the countryside, and your first decent into the city. You told him about the first ambush, and then the second.

After all the critical information was shared, Steve paused. He took a second to look at you, really look at you, and ask about Bucky. 

"What's he like?"

In some way, you were the only person that really knew the Bucky of this world. The Bucky that lived on. The part of Bucky that survived the fall.

You smiled softly to yourself at his questions. “He’s kind.” You whispered. “He’s stubborn, but kind. He’s still good, Steve. That good never died.”

The answer made him smile. It eased something in him. 

But the drive to find Bucky, however strong, was still pushed to the sidelines.

You watched on the tv in the corner of the med bay as live news rolled in from Lagos. Something big was going down. Something important. It didn’t hit you just how big it was until Rumlow’s picture flashed across the scene. 

You flinched, those dead eyes boring right into you. You hadn’t seen his face since he dragged you from Bucky’s cell, over a year ago. But you still remembered him. You remembered the feeling of his boot driving into your stomach. You remembered his fists.

You remembered it all. 

And as you panicked about Hydra, and Rumlow, and Bucky, the world of the Avengers erupted into political turmoil. You had no right, nor knowledge on the technicalities of what was going on. 

You’d only recently been moved out of the med bay and into a room of your own in the tower. You had only recently begun to settle, begun to heal.

So as you peered around the corner through the glass walls of the briefing room, you felt dread. You had no idea what was happening, but you knew it was bad. 

Whatever was happening in that room drew you no closer to finding Bucky.

A/N: Wow, I think this is the longest chapter of this series that I put out. I like it like this, so I think I'm gonna focus on writing longer chapters. GUYS... Every time I start to move towards healing and safety I start thinking I rushed and didn't add enough pain and torture....maybe I'm just too deep in the angst stuff. But if you feel it was rushed, I'm sorryyyy.

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha @natalia42069 @nicolebarnes @fallen-w1ngs @justachillgirllui @avaout @local-crazy @nynxtea @cherryheairt

[subliminalghoest]

Safe house 4

Ghoap x f!reader (Part 1 2 3)

Ok... I don't know how I feel about this one... I kinda hate myself for it honestly.

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, suicidal thoughts (more a lack of care about their wellbeing tho)

After locating Price and finding out Johnny was in the medical wing, your heart had almost begun to beat normally again.

Almost.

Not until you saw him with your own eyes. Not until you confirmed every limb, every laugh line, every ridiculous grin was intact, would your pulse settle.

The med wing was low-lit and quiet, and you paused just outside Johnny’s door. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to go in. If they wanted to see you.

But the door was already cracked open, and you heard him laugh—soft, low, familiar. A sound that began to piece together your aching chest. Pushing aside any lingering pangs from the morning with Simon. 

You pushed the door gently.

Johnny sat on the edge of the bed, pale but alive, bandaged but still grinning. His arm was in a sling, and there was a bruised cut across his cheek, but he looked up and smiled when he saw you.

“Look who finally decided to show,” he teased, voice warm, like nothing had changed.

You crossed the room before you even realised your feet had moved, pulled him into a hug, careful of his injuries.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you whispered, breath catching.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love.” He said it easily, but his grip on your back tightened in response.

When you pulled back, Ghost was standing on the other side of the bed. Stiff. His eyes flicked to you briefly, then back to Johnny. Awkward.

“Glad you’re not dead,” you said, trying to find your footing again. You didn’t mean for your voice to shake slightly. 

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You alright?”

You nodded too fast.

Ghost shifted his weight slightly. Said nothing.

The air in the room felt thick.

You stepped back. Gave them space. You didn't belong with them anymore, you could feel it in the undercurrent, pushing you towards the door.

That’s when you saw it and paused—Johnny’s hand in Ghost’s. His thumb moved in slow, absent circles over the back of Ghost’s knuckles, like it was second nature. Unthinking. An unconscious action. “We’ve been together. For a while.” The words echoed in your mind, each syllable landing like a weight in your chest. It felt like someone had injected ice water straight into your veins. A reminder. A cruel one. That you hadn’t mattered—not really. Just something they’d tried on for size and quietly discarded.

It took longer than it should have to register that Johnny was saying something. But when the words finally registered, you were almost grateful for the anger that flared up to wash away the hurt left behind.

“Captured?” you blurted, smacking his shoulder with an open palm. “Why didn’t you lead with that, you idiot!”

“Hey! I’m fine—just a private regiment who didn’t realise who I was. Tied me to a chair, roughed me up a little. Honestly, could’ve been worse. Bit of a holiday, really.”

You hit him again. You didn’t know what else to do with the flood of emotion crashing against your ribs. Relief. Anger. That ache in your chest made worse by the hulking presence opposite you, the one who still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Before you could say more, the medic returned, shooing both you and Ghost out to run more tests.

Now, you were outside in the hall.

The door clicked shut and the silence tightened, like a vice around your throat. Every word you wanted to say jammed in your chest.

A pause. 

“I’m gonna wait here,” Ghost muttered, not looking at you, arms folded across his chest, “You should go update Price.”

“Update him on what?” It came out sharper than you intended—but you didn’t care. You knew what Ghost was doing. He was trying to get rid of you.

He didn’t respond. Just stared harder at the floor.

“So we’re just pretending that didn’t happen?” you asked, arms crossed, your voice a fragile shield against the way your heart stung.

Ghost didn’t look surprised. He didn’t look at you at all.

He scratched at his glove instead, then said, low and even, “We were both hurting. Missed Johnny. Needed something to hold onto. That’s all it was.”

You swallowed around the lump rising in your throat. “So we’re still friends?” You couldn’t lose him entirely because of some stupid night spent together. 

A beat passed. “Course.”

It felt like a lie.

But you nodded anyway. “Good.”

And that was that.

You tried to move on like nothing had changed, but the ache remained—an invisible bruise you couldn’t stop pressing.

Johnny bounced back to form fast. All wide grins and stupid jokes, his presence like sunlight—loud and warm and blinding if you looked too close. But even he couldn’t miss the shift in the air.

Conversations between the three of you that had once felt as easy as breathing were suddenly stunted, Johnny feeling like some kind of glue trying to hold you all together.

Ghost was once again quiet around you, like you were the new guy on the team again, only this time you weren’t trying to peel back his layers and worm your way inside.

But.

You’d decided to stop touching them. Both of them. It felt wrong--like you were encouraging a relationship you had clearly opted out of.

No more friendly shoulder nudges, no collapsing into Soap’s side on the couch after a long op. No leaning against Ghost in quiet moments, sharing space when speaking had become too much for either of you.

You kept your hands to yourself. Played it safe.

Tried to.

Even if it meant bleeding quietly where nobody could see.

Weeks passed.

You took to sparring more often.

It was the only place you could touch without feeling too much. Here, it was allowed. Controlled. Clean. Rules to follow.

But today felt… different.

You didn’t pull your punches. Neither did Ghost.

The mat slapped beneath your feet as you moved, fast and brutal. You ducked under his swing, landed a palm against his chest—but he didn’t back off. He came harder. No banter. No guiding corrections.

Just teeth, grit and unspoken fury.

Johnny leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with narrowed eyes.

When Ghost landed a solid hit to your hips that made you stumble, you retaliated with a hard sweep that knocked him flat.

Johnny stepped forward. “Alright, alright. No need to fight to the death.”

You backed up, chest heaving, sweat prickling down your spine. Ghost said nothing. Just rolled his shoulders and walked off the mat.

“You want next?” you asked Johnny, trying to cover the sting of the moment with a grin.

But Ghost cut in, voice low. “That’s enough. You’re tired.”

You weren’t.

You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to be left alone with your thoughts again.

“I think Soap can make that decision for himself, no?” You raised an antagonising brow at the Scot.

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about it. You’re getting sloppy. You’ll injure yourself.”

Ghost walked away.

You weren’t sloppy. Anger rose. Hot. Needing an outlet.

When Johnny turned away, you stepped in close—jabbed him just under the ribs. Fast. Sharp.

He grunted, staggering back. “What the hell!”

You dropped your stance, jaw tight. “Come on. Thought you said I was getting sloppy. Still landed that one easy.”

He stared, anger flashing behind his eyes. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” Your threw your fist towards his face, him narrowly dodging the jab.

Johnny’s voice lowered, jaw set. “Don’t antagonise me, lass.”

You squared off again. And he came at you like a storm.

You grappled to the floor, matching each move, lock for lock, grin for grin. This was fine. This was safe. A game with rules. Touch that didn’t mean anything.

Until it didn’t.

You slipped.

He didn’t have time to pull the hit.

His fist landed painfully against your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and your legs from under you.

You hit the mat hard.

Johnny was on you instantly, concern twisting his features. “Shit—I’m sorry. That was too much—”

“No. Don’t apologise.” You scrambled upright, already backing away. “It’s my fault. Forgot you had a mean right hook.”

His hands reached out again, checking you, fingers brushing your side. Your breath hitched.

“What’re you doing?”

“Making sure you didn’t break a rib.” He lifted your shirt and began the process of checking each rib, pushing to see if any felt worryingly sore. You tried to grit your teeth and get through it. Your head began to buzz. It had been so long since you’d had someone touch like this--softly. You were holding your breath, knowing Johnnys cologne would invade your senses as soon as you breathed in. 

He was too close. 

You stepped out of his reach. Too much. Too close. Too intimate.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly.

He let out a hesitant laugh, masking uncertainty. “Go get it checked, yeah? Don’t want Price on my arse for injuring his favourite sharpshooter.”

You almost made it to the door before you saw him.

Ghost. Leaning there. Watching. Mask unreadable.

He followed you out.

“You trying to punish Johnny now?” he asked, voice low. Like a knife dragged slowly along your spine.

You froze, whipped your head around to him. “What?”

“I saw it.” He stepped closer. “You’re angry. I get it. But don’t take it out on him.”

“I’m not—” You stopped. How could you explain?

That you were lonely. That you ached. That you craved the comfort of their touch but felt like you'd been burned for ever wanting it. Without sounding as desperate as you felt, that is. 

When you didn’t answer, Ghost exhaled sharply. “Right.”

“Can’t you just accept that I wasn’t trying to hurt him without needing a damn explanation?”

He grabbed your arm, pulling you into him so he could peer into your eyes, "No, I can't."

You scoffed, "There you go again with the 'I can’t’, you can't what, Simon." 

You weren’t even making sense to yourself. Felt irrationally angry at him. 

"Oh, there you two are." Johnny rounded the corner and you wrenched your arm from Ghosts grip. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, just bugging me about going to the medic." You glanced at Johhny, turning on your heel to get away from them. You needed space from them, permanently.

“Simon?” Johnny’s voice was quiet.

He was staring at Ghost, who hadn’t blinked.  Eyes fixed on the hallway you’d disappeared down. Expression unreadable—except to Johnny.

“Simon, what did you do?”

Ghost flinched, just a little. “I didn’t—” he stammered, glancing away. “Nothing.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Ah-ah, no. Something’s off. You’ve got that kicked-puppy look you only get when you’ve properly fucked up.”

Ghost tried to shrug it off, but Johnny stepped in front of him, hands gentle as they took his arms.

“Look at me.”

Simon’s gaze met his reluctantly.

Johnny’s voice softened. “Tell me.”

Ghost hesitated, then said quietly, “We kissed.”

Shock and confusion warred on Johnnys face, “What—just now?”

“No,” Ghost muttered. “When you were gone.”

“Ok…” Johnny’s brows furrowed. “She didn’t like it?”

Ghost looked like he wanted the floor to open beneath him. “Thats not it, at least I think she liked it.”

“You think she liked it?”

“She kissed me back,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But she stopped it before anything else happened.”

Johnny waited, silent, patient. Not letting it go.

Simon finally exhaled a shaky breath.

“I kind of pulled away the morning after,” he admitted, “And before you start—I was scared, alright? I’d just spent four days thinking you were dead. I was barely holding it together. Then she was there. In her bed. In my arms. And it felt like if I let myself have that… I could barely survive anything happening to you let alone her aswell.”

Johnny didn’t speak at first. Just pulled him into a slow, one-armed hug and began walking with him down the corridor.

“So, you’re not mad?” Simons voice was small as he asked what he’d been terrified of finding out the answer to.

“You are such an idiot.”

Simon let out a disbelieving scoff. “How am I the idiot?”

Johnny snorted. 

They walked on, shoulders brushing.

It was going to be a long night.

But maybe, finally, Simon was ready to talk.

Perhaps too late to change your plan.

You started sitting at a different table during meals. Switched your gym schedule. Made yourself invisible, unless it was mission time.

Johnny noticed first-catching you in hallways with bad jokes and warm smiles that didn't reach you anymore.

Ghost kept his distance, even after his talk with Johnny, still unsure on how to approach the situation.

You had made your mind up.

You stopped calling them by their names.

A barrier.

It was hard at first. A few missed nicknames, a couple moments where "Johnny" slipped past your lips before you caught yourself, corrected it. But eventually, it stuck.

They noticed.

The first time you did it on base, Soap froze mid-sentence. You'd handed him a debrief file, avoided his touch when he reached for it, and simply said, "Let me know if Command wants an update, Soap."

He blinked at you, smile faltering like you'd slapped him across the face.

He didn't say anything then. Just took the file, nodded slowly, and walked off quieter than usual.

Ghost didn't react at all when you did it to him, he was expecting it. He took it with that same mask-on, walls-back-up silence. Just a stiff nod. Professional.

They tried to pull you back in at first.

Soap started with the little things—inside jokes, dumb banter, lingering near your desk when he didn’t need to be there. You laughed once. Weakly. But you didn’t meet his eyes.

Eventually, he stopped trying to be funny. Just watched you instead, quiet and confused.

Ghost didn’t try humour.

He tried persistence. 

He started showing up again—shoulder to shoulder with you during drills, hovering just behind you at the firing range. But he never crossed the line. Never spoke first. Never touched. Just waited for you, just in case.

There were benefits.

In the field, you were untouchable—precise, calculated. No room for mistakes. You issued commands with a voice stripped of warmth.

“Soap, cover left. Ghost, clear the stairwell. I’ll breach.”

Not Johnny, with me or Simon, watch my six.

You didn’t even flinch when they called you out on it.

“You always this cold, Snipe?” Soap asked one day after a long couple days in the field. “Or you saving all the warmth for someone else now?”

You didn’t look at him. Just checked the ammo count on your rifle.

“You done?” you said coolly.

He scoffed under his breath, but didn’t push.

Ghost said nothing.

He just stared at you a beat too long, like he was trying to decode something that wasn’t there anymore.

You were a well-oiled machine now. The person on and off duty had blended into one. If you began to feel that familiar pang of loneliness, you simply took yourself to the gym and ran until all you could think about was your breath, all you could feel was the pain in your legs. No room for anything else.

Maybe they thought it was a phase.

Maybe they were waiting for you to come back.

But you weren’t sure if you could.

Because if you let yourself soften again—it wouldn’t be pretty.

So you called them by their callsigns.

And every time, it felt like drawing a line you knew they wouldn’t cross.

It all came to a head when you were prepped for your next mission. The briefing room was quiet, heavy with the kind of tension that settled deep in the walls and didn't leave.

Price stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, projecting calm authority. Ghost loomed beside him, unreadable as ever behind the mask. You sat opposite them, back straight, eyes sharp on the folder in your hand.

And Johnny—Soap—was beside you.

You didn’t look at him.

“High-value target,” Price said, nodding to the satellite imagery spread out across the table. “Intel confirms he’s on-site for another 48 hours max. After that, he’s ghostin’.”

Your gaze traced the structure outlined on the photo. Guard rotation, possible entry points, extraction windows.

“I’ll go in,” you said, before anyone else could speak. “Alone.”

Price’s brows lifted. “That’s not the op. You and Soap were slated to infiltrate together.”

You didn’t flinch. “I’ll go in solo. Quicker, quieter. No point risking two lives when you can just risk the one.”

A pause filled the room—cold and sharp.

Soap turned toward you slowly. “What the hell are you on about?”

“Just logic,” you said flatly, not looking at him. “One person has a better chance of slipping through. Less noise. Less chance of being caught. I can handle it.”

“You don’t get to make that call,” Johnny said, voice low, his usual warmth gone. “You’re not going in alone.”

“No point in both of us dying.”

His voice hardened. “You’re. Not. Going. In. Alone.”

You shrugged, eyes still on the intel, refusing to meet his. “It's not your choice to make.”

“Enough,” Price said, tone sharp now. “No one’s dying. And no one’s going in alone—”

“I’ll go with her,” Ghost interrupted suddenly, his voice a smooth, flat line of steel. “Unless you're gonna tell me I’m not allowed?”

You frowned, he had you cornered and he knew it. Then, slowly, Price looked between you, Soap, and Ghost—his gaze sharp.

“Alright fine.” He paused. “But I want a word with Ghost before we move forward. You two—wait outside.”

Soap opened his mouth to protest but shut it again when he caught Ghost’s look—something dark and silent passing between them.

“Fine,” Soap muttered, standing. His chair scraped the floor as he left. You followed, already turning—

“No,” Ghost said, eyes locked on you. “Not you.”

Your step faltered.

Price raised an eyebrow. “Simon?”

“Need a minute alone,” Ghost said simply, “Won’t be long.”

Price studied him for a beat, then nodded slowly. “Five minutes.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, the silence turned thick. Pressing.

You didn’t speak.

Didn’t look at him.

Ghost took a step toward you. “What the hell’s going on with you?”

You crossed your arms. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, and the sudden edge in his voice made your chest tighten. “You shut us both out. Won’t look at Johnny. Barely speak unless it’s call signs or orders. And now you’re offering yourself up like some lamb to slaughter?”

You turned away. “It’s just the better strategy. Stop reading into it.”

“Stop it.”

You bristled, but his voice was too steady. Too calm. Like he wasn’t just angry—he was hurting.

“You think if you pull away hard enough, it’ll stop the fallout?” he continued. “You think freezing us out’ll protect you?”

You didn’t answer.

“We kissed,” he said, quieter now. “You let me in. And now I don’t even get my name?”

You flinched, but still didn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re not the only one who’s scared,” he added. “But you don’t get to act like we don’t care just because it hurts too much.”

Finally, you looked at him—properly, allowing yourself to take him in for a moment like you used to.

Your voice cracked. “You don’t get to say that. Not after you left that morning like none of it mattered and reacted to me like I was a devil on your shoulder for weeks after.”

His eyes flickered. “It did matter. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that, I know. But I didn’t know how to explain what was going through my head.”

“And what was there to explain, Simon?” you said, bitterness leaking into your voice. “That I was a mistake you wanted to forget?”

He took a step closer, eyes sharp, but not unkind. “No. It wasn’t a mistake. If you just let me—.”

You shook your head. “It’s easier this way. The why doesn’t matter anymore.”

He closed the last bit of distance, gently taking your wrist. “But it does matter.”

You stared at his hand on yours.

He waited. Breath steady. Not pushing.

You felt the first crack like a gunshot through your chest. Felt the fractures expand from there. The feelings you’d locked up rushing out the gaps made by him.

“I just can’t keep feeling like an extra piece, you know? Like I’m only needed when someone’s missing. And when they’re not—” You shook your head. You were tired. Frayed at the edges. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be around you, but this.”

His hand gripped you tighter, as if trying to hold you here—not let you drift away again, “We just want you back. In any form.”

The door opened before you could say more—Price stepping back in, brows raised.

Ghost released your hand slowly, eyes hardening again—you didn’t notice how much they’d softened.

Price looked between you both, then nodded once. “Good. Get ready. Wheels up in two hours.”

You brushed past Price on your way out, your chest still tight—but now, under the wreckage of everything you were trying not to feel… a flicker of something else.

A feeling you had gotten so used to pushing down.

This time you let it linger a little longer.

“We just want you back.”

[wosospacegirl]

maybe continuing with having reader being with katie and caitlin. And reader is struggling during an away game and katie and caitlin try everything to make her feel better, until they realise all she needed was a boob to fix her 😂 and katie is like 🙄 you could’ve just said so

also thank you for existing in this space ❤️

-🦦

Chill out - Katie x Caitlin x reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: boobs - kinda +18

..

“Why are you so annoying today?” Katie groaned, flopping back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m not being annoying,” Y/n snapped, arms crossed. “I’m just tired. And I want to go home.”

Katie rolled her eyes like it was the most unreasonable thing anyone had ever said. “We’ll go home after we play.”

“I know that,” Y/n shot back. “I’m not stupid. I’ve read the schedule.”

“Then why are you being such a pain—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Caitlin’s voice cut clean through the bickering as she walked out of the bathroom, still towel-drying her hair. Dressed in nothing but sweatpants and a tank top, she looked exasperated but calm. “I could hear you two from the shower.”

“We wouldn’t be arguing if Y/n would stop being so impatient,” Katie muttered.

Y/n turned sharply. “And we wouldn’t be arguing if you, Katie, had just been gentle with me. I’m having a bad day, and you’re making it worse.”

Katie threw her hands in the air. “Then stop complaining and just accept the hug I offered! I literally tried!”

“I don’t want a hug!” Y/n yelled.

“Stop!” Caitlin said again, louder this time.

Both of them shut their mouths instantly. Caitlin gave them a look that could kill before her expression softened.

“Look,” she said, sitting on the bed, “I know we’re all stressed. The flight was hell, this hotel sucks, the beds feel like cardboard—but that doesn’t mean we forget that we actually love each other, right?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n muttered.

“Me too,” Katie said, almost at the same time.

Caitlin leaned in and kissed each of them gently, first Y/n, then Katie, before collapsing in the middle of the bed and patting both sides. “Now come cuddle. No more fighting.”

Y/n and Katie sighed in sync and crawled into the bed, lying on either side of her. Caitlin took one of each of their hands, linking their fingers together while the room settled into a quiet kind of peace.

For a while, it was just soft breathing and the rustle of blankets.

Then, Y/n tugged at Caitlin’s tank top, a small blush creeping up her neck. Her voice was shy, quiet. “Please?”

Caitlin smiled, already pulling her shirt off. “Of course, baby.”

As soon as her chest was bare, Y/n latched on, burying her face there like it was the only safe place in the world. 

Her shoulders eased. Her jaw unclenched. Her entire body melted into Caitlin’s.

Katie and Caitlin began chatting quietly about training—what Renée said, who looked fit, who looked tired. 

Y/n stayed quiet, letting the steady rise and fall of Caitlin’s breathing lull her. She felt the press of Katie’s hand on her back a moment later, warm and grounding.

“If I knew you only needed a little boob time to chill out,” Katie said dryly, “we would’ve been here hours ago.”

Y/n didn’t answer. She just nuzzled closer, practically purring from contentment.

Katie leaned down, brushing a kiss to the top of Y/n’s head. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she whispered. “I’ll be more patient with you. Calmer.”

“Same,” Caitlin murmured, resting her cheek against Y/n’s crown. “We love you. Even when you’re…impossible.”

Y/n let out a muffled noise of agreement against Caitlin’s chest. For the first time all day, she felt at peace.

Y/n had her cheek pressed firmly against Caitlin’s chest, warm skin against warm skin, finally—finally—starting to relax. Her arms were curled in protectively close, like a cat curled up on its favorite spot. Safe. Grounded.

Katie laid on her side, facing them, her eyes flicking between Caitlin’s face and Y/n’s content pout. 

Her hand was still resting on Y/n’s back, tracing small circles with her thumb. “You’re really not gonna move for the rest of the night, huh?” She asked.

“Nope,” Y/n murmured, eyes still closed. “I live here now.”

Caitlin chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Y/n’s head.

Katie scoffed, but her mouth tugged up into a smile. “She’s a menace. All day she’s been snapping at me, ignoring cuddles, acting like I ruined her whole life.”

“Well, you weren’t the kindest of girlfriends today either.” Caitlin teased.

Katie grabbed a nearby pillow and launched it at her. “Hard to be a kind girlfriend when the airport loses your entire luggage, Caitlin. My entire bag is somewhere between here and London. My moisturizer is in that bag. My good socks.”

“Oh no,” Caitlin said dramatically, catching the pillow. “Not the good socks. Tragedy.”

Y/n, still half-asleep, groaned. “Can you two fight later? I’m finally not grumpy for once and you talk too much.”

“God, you’re so spoiled” Katie muttered fondly, leaning in to press a kiss behind Y/n’s ear. “You could’ve just said you needed a boob, you know?”

“I tried to,” Y/n grumbled. “You called me annoying.”

“I said you were being annoying, not that you are annoying,” Katie corrected, pulling the blanket up over their bodies. “There’s a difference.”

“I was just overstimulated,” Y/n defended weakly.

“You were a terror,” Katie deadpanned, but her voice was warm. “But we’ll keep you anyway.”

Caitlin smiled sleepily, arms wrapped around them both. “We love you,” she murmured.

“Even when I’m mean?” Y/n asked, barely a whisper.

“Especially then,” Caitlin replied.

Katie sighed dramatically. “I mean, I prefer when you’re not a little shit, but yeah, I love you.”

Y/n cracked a sleepy smile, hiding it in Caitlin’s chest. “Good.”

Silence settled around them again, soft and safe. Just three girls tangled up on a creaky hotel bed, breathing in sync, letting the outside world fade into background noise.

They could win the game tomorrow. Or lose it. But this tiny corner of peace was theirs.

..

a/n: hope u guys like it <3

[thirteenheavens]

fluffy hoshi fic w him being a great dad and husband 🥹🥹🥹 can i be hoshi anon 🐯

Just like her mama|| Kwon Soonyoung

Hoshi cradles your daughter in his arms, gently bouncing her up and down as she giggles. "Daddy's little princess," he coos, nuzzling her nose with his own.

The baby squeals with delight, reaching up to grab his hair with her tiny fingers. "Ouch!" Hoshi laughs, pretending to be hurt. "She's strong, just like her mama." You watch the scene unfold with a warm smile, feeling your heart swell with love for both of them. Hoshi notices you watching and grins, still bouncing the baby.

"Come join us, Y-N," he says, patting the spot next to him on the couch. "She wants to see her beautiful mama." You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist as he passes the baby to you. The little girl snuggles into your chest, making contented baby noises as she settles against you.

Hoshi leans in to press a kiss to your temple, then gently kisses the top of the baby's head. "I love you both so much," he whispers, his eyes filled with happiness and adoration. The baby coos softly in your arms, reaching out to grab at Hoshi's shirt again. He laughs and gently pulls her hand away, kissing her tiny fingers.

"She's so perfect," he says, looking at you with such tenderness it makes your heart ache. "Just like you." You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling complete in this moment with your little family. "We're lucky to have you," you murmur, watching as the baby yawns and starts to doze off. Hoshi wraps his arm around you both, holding you close as the three of you cuddle together. "I'm the lucky one," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. "You gave me everything I never knew I wanted."

The baby's breathing evens out as she falls asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully against yours. Hoshi gently strokes her cheek, watching her sleep with a look of pure love on his face. Hoshi carefully lifts the baby from your arms, carrying her to the nursery to put her down for her nap. You follow behind him, watching as he tucks her into her crib with the utmost care.

"Shh, sleep tight little one," he whispers, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead. He steps back to stand beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist as you both watch her sleep.

"She's growing up so fast," he says softly, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. "I remember when she was just a tiny bundle in your arms." You lean into him, feeling grateful for the moments like this where you can just exist together as a family. "Time flies," you agree, taking his hand in yours.

Hoshi gives your hand a gentle squeeze, pulling you closer. "But I'm glad we're doing this together," he says, his eyes meeting yours. "Every step of the way." You look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. "Me too," you whisper, reaching up to cup his cheek.

Hoshi leans into your touch, covering your hand with his own. "I love you, Y-N," he says softly, his voice full of emotion. "And I promise to always be here for you and our daughter." He kisses your palm, then your forehead, before pulling you into a gentle embrace. You wrap your arms around him, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

"I love you too," you murmur against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. "You're the best father and partner I could ever ask for." Hoshi holds you close, rocking you back and forth in the nursery as the baby sleeps peacefully in her crib. The moment feels perfect - quiet, tender, and filled with love.

[sirenontheloose]

COFFEE

The best kind of love is the one that makes you feel like you’re home.

"Riiinggg." The alarm rang for the third time.

Lara sighed and gently slipped out of YN’s arms to turn it off, hoping the noise hadn’t woken the other girl still curled up in bed.

But YN, smiling sleepily at her girlfriend’s failed attempt to be quiet, reached out and wrapped her arms around Lara’s waist, snuggling into her back.

“You’re up?” Lara asked softly, turning to pull her closer into a warm hug.

YN hummed, snuggling closer to Lara, content with how warm and safe she felt in her arms.

Lara giggled at her girlfriend’s clinginess and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, a gentle hint that it was time to get up and start the day.

YN let out a quiet sigh. “I wish we could stay like this all day,” she mumbled.

“Me too,” Lara whispered, linking their fingers together as she gently tugged YN toward the bathroom.

Their morning routine unfolded like a quiet dance, familiar and easy. They stood side by side at the sink, brushing their teeth while stealing glances at each other through the mirror. YN playfully bumped her shoulder into Lara's, causing toothpaste foam to spill from her mouth as she laughed.

After rinsing, they moved to the shower, letting the warm water wake them up as they took turns lathering shampoo and tracing lazy patterns on each other’s skin. Between soft kisses and shared smiles, it felt less like getting ready for the day and more like slowly easing into it together.

Later, YN, looking effortlessly stunning in a sky-blue blouse, wandered into the kitchen to prepare two cups of coffee, one for her and one for the love of her life. She returned to the dining area, handing one cup to Lara before sliding into her seat with a satisfied sigh.

“Thanks, babe,” Lara said, giving her a grateful smile. “Best coffee I’ve ever had,” she added, leaning over with a playful wink, making sure to make eye contact as she took a sip.

YN raised an eyebrow, setting her cup down with a teasing grin. “So good you want to put a ring on me?” she called out, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she leaned back in her chair.

Lara chuckled, her gaze lingering on YN for a moment as she rested her cup on the table. “Should I?” she asked, a sly smirk curling at the corners of her lips.

YN froze for a second, her eyes going wide as her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. But then, she quickly recovered, flashing a cheeky smile. “Oh, I see how it is,” she said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. “Trying to lock me down already? You sure you’re ready for me?”

Lara raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. YN leaned in a little, smirking as she added, “You’re gonna need a lot more than just praises for my coffee to win me over. And I’m talking, like, an actual vacation… maybe a private island?”

Lara’s smirk widened as she leaned in closer. “Is that a challenge?” she asked, voice low and teasing, her playful gaze never leaving YN.

YN took a dramatic sip of her coffee, making a show of it as if she were pondering the situation. “Maybe,” she said slowly, setting the cup down with exaggerated care. “But you’ll have to do better than that. You know, lifetime supply of chocolate might do the trick.”

Lara chuckled, reaching over to nudge YN’s knee under the table. “Noted. I’ll start budgeting for the chocolate then.”

They exchanged one last smile, warm and lingering, before falling into a comfortable silence. The soft clinking of spoons against mugs and the faint hum of morning filled the space between them.

After a few minutes, YN stood up to clear the table, gathering the empty cups and moving to the sink. As she rinsed them off, she didn’t notice Lara sneak up behind her, the small silver ring tucked between her fingers, heart pounding in her chest.

When YN turned around to grab the last cup, she froze. Lara was standing much closer than expected, her body nearly brushing against YN's, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. The ring gleamed between them, catching the light.

“You were saying?” Lara whispered, her voice low and playful. She leaned in even closer, just inches from YN, feeling her own heart race in anticipation, the heat from their bodies mixing.

YN’s breath caught as she looked up at Lara, the closeness making her pulse quicken. Her usual teasing smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a nervous excitement that she couldn't quite hide.

Lara smiled softly, her lips hovering just above YN’s ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “Guess you’ll have to say ‘yes’ first,” she teased, her voice just a little breathy.

divider - @v6que

a/n - hey y'all..

[fleurriee]

can you write a fluff/maybe slight angst with fem!reader who is insecure about not being very curvy/doesn’t have a large chest and spencer helps her feel better about it?

pairings ; spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis ; spencer reassures your insecurities.

themes ; slight angst, fluff, insecure!reader, established relationship

You tugged at your shirt for the third time that morning, your fingers fidgeting with the hem like it was stitched from uncertainty. The fabric clung awkwardly — or at least, it felt like it did. No matter how many times you adjusted it, the mirror didn’t reflect anything new. Just… you. And today, that didn’t feel like enough.

“I just… don’t really fill things out like other girls do,” you muttered under your breath, eyes barely meeting your reflection.

Behind you, the soft rustle of pages stopped.

Spencer looked up from the couch, his book resting forgotten in his lap. His brows pinched together, that familiar crease of concern appearing between them. “Come here,” he said gently.

You hesitated, unsure if you really wanted to be seen right now — especially by him. But there was something about his voice — soft, safe — that drew you in like a magnet.

You shuffled across the room and stood in front of him, arms crossed protectively over your chest. He reached out without hesitation, taking your hands in his. His thumbs began tracing slow, deliberate circles over your wrists, grounding you with just a touch.

“What brought this on?” he asked softly.

You shrugged, eyes dropping to your feet. “Just been noticing things — online, mostly. People talk like you’re only desirable if you have curves, if you look a certain way. And, I just… don’t.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, but not in a way that felt dismissive. He was thinking — carefully, intentionally, like he always did.

“You know I memorize things, right?” he finally said, his voice warm but serious.

You blinked, unsure where he was going with that. “Yeah…?”

“I’ve read over ten thousand books. I can tell you the square mileage of every U.S. state. I know exactly how many freckles you have on your left shoulder.”

Your head lifted at that, brows knitting. “You do?”

He smiled, just barely. “Thirty-four. I’ve counted. Twice.”

You huffed a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He gently pulled you down to sit beside him, his arm wrapping around your waist like it belonged there.

“I notice everything about you,” he said. “Not just your body, but how you hum when you’re thinking, how you curl your fingers under your chin when you’re reading, how you always check to make sure I’m okay, even when you’re the one who’s hurting.”

You leaned into him without thinking, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Beauty isn’t one thing,” he continued. “It’s not a checklist, not a set of measurements. It’s not how you compare to someone else — it’s how you exist in the world. And you — you — are beautiful in a thousand quiet ways.”

“But —” you started, still half-heartedly clinging to that knot of insecurity.

He turned to you, gently placing a hand against your cheek. “I love you because of all the things I feel when I’m with you, not because of how your body looks in a shirt.” His thumb brushed against your cheekbone. “But if we’re being honest, I do think you’re stunning, exactly as you are. I wouldn’t change a single part of you.”

You felt a tightness in your chest loosen just a little, like maybe you’d been holding your breath for longer than you realized. You looked up at him — at those sincere, coffee-colored eyes that saw you so clearly.

“You really mean that?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Of course I do. I’ve never said anything I meant more.”

You leaned into him fully now, his arms wrapping around you with practiced ease. There was something sacred about the way Spencer held you �� like you were something rare and delicate, but never fragile. Like he knew exactly where the cracks were and loved you more for them.

“I know it’s hard,” he murmured into your hair. “This world can make you feel like you’re supposed to look a certain way. But if you ever forget how worthy you are, let me remind you, as many times as it takes.”

You smiled into his chest, the weight on your shoulders just a little lighter now.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You’re allowed to remind me forever, if you want.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger there for a beat. “Good. Because I was planning on it.”

[mirrored-muse]

ᴘʀᴇ-ᴏᴜᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋ! ᴊᴏᴇʟ ꜱꜰᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ

A — Admiration ⟢ What do they admire about you?

Joel admires your patience. The way you handle things without snapping, the way you make a house feel like home, the way you look at him like he’s not broken. He doesn’t say it much, but it’s written all over his face when he watches you handle a tough situation.

B — Bonding ⟢ What’s their favorite bonding activity?

He’s not big on grand gestures, his favorite bonding is simple: building something together, fixing up the house, sitting beside you on the couch while your legs are on his lap. Just being near you, hands busy, heart settled.

C — Cuddling ⟢ How do they like to cuddle?

Joel’s a human furnace. He likes to spoon you, chest to your back, arm locked tight around your middle. If you shift too far, he’ll grumble and pull you back. Even in sleep, he’s always touching you.

D — Dates ⟢ What are date nights like?

Date nights are takeout on the couch and old movies Joel half-watches because he’s too busy looking at you. Sometimes he’ll take you out for live music or a beer at a quiet bar, but most nights, home with you is more than enough.

E — Emotions ⟢ How do they express their emotions?

He’s not great with words, not unless something’s really eating at him. But he shows you through actions: fixing things before you ask, rubbing your back when you’re tired, holding you like you’re made of glass.

F — Future ⟢ How do they see their future with you?

Joel doesn’t daydream much, life’s taught him not to. But when he lets himself think about it? He sees a house with you, Sarah getting older, maybe a dog or another eventually another kid. He doesn’t need much, just wants to keep what he’s got safe.

G — Gifts ⟢ How do they feel about gift giving?

He’s practical with gifts, tools you mentioned needing, something for the kitchen, a worn book you once said you loved. Occasionally, he’ll surprise you with something sweet, like your favorite dessert from a local bakery.

H — Holding Hands ⟢ How do they hold hands?

Joel holds your hand like he’s not letting go. Firm, fingers laced. His thumb will rub over your knuckles without thinking, grounding both of you.

I — Injury ⟢ How would they react if you got hurt?

If you get hurt, even slightly, Joel’s immediately in fix-it mode. Worry sharp in his voice, hands a little too gentle. If it’s serious? God help whoever’s responsible. he’ll come unglued. His anger’s quiet, dangerous.

J — Jealousy ⟢ How jealous do they get?

He doesn’t get outwardly jealous, but his jaw tightens. He gets quiet. Protective. The arm around your waist gets heavier. And if a guy gets too friendly? Joel just stares, lets his presence do the talking. No one pushes their luck.

K — Kisses ⟢ How do they like to kiss you?

He kisses like it means something. Slow, steady, lips brushing yours like he’s memorizing the shape. Likes cheek kisses in the morning, neck kisses at night. When it gets heated—his hands always find your face first.

L — Love ⟢ What’s their love language?

Joel’s love language is acts of service. Fixing your car. Making sure you eat. Hand on your back as you walk into a room. He’s not great at big speeches, but he shows up. Again and again and again.

M — Morning ⟢ How are mornings spent with them?

Mornings with Joel are warm and lazy when he can get ‘em. He comes up behind you while you’re making coffee, kisses your shoulder, grumbles into your neck. Half the time he’s shirtless, all the time he’s clingy.

N — Nightmare ⟢ What is their worst fear?

His worst fear is losing you or Sarah. In any way. It eats at him sometimes, keeps him up at night. The thought of something happening and him not being able to stop it—it’s the only thing that really scares him.

O — Obvious ⟢ How obvious is their love to you?

It’s obvious to everyone how much Joel loves you. Even when he’s being gruff. Especially then. He doesn’t look at anyone else the way he looks at you.

P — Pet Names ⟢ What do they call you?

“Sweetheart,” “baby,” and “darlin’” are his go-tos. The softer his voice gets, the more he means it. When he’s teasing, you get a sarcastic “Honey” —but it always ends with a kiss.

Q — Quirk ⟢ What is one of their quirks?

Joel talks to himself when he’s fixing things, curses at screwdrivers, mutters about “cheap goddamn parts.” You tease him about it, but he won’t stop.

R — Romance ⟢ How romantic are they?

He’s not flashy, but Joel’s romantic in his own way. He remembers the little things. Fixes your favorite mug when it breaks. Wraps an arm around you during storms. Keeps photos of you tucked into the glove box of his truck.

S — Show Off ⟢ Do they like to show you off?

Joel’s not loud about it, but he does like to show you off. An arm around your waist at the store, a smirk when someone compliments you. Can’t see him being big on pda though.

T — Time ⟢ How quickly do they fall in love with you?

Joel doesn’t fall fast. He’s cautious, slow to trust. But once he does? It’s deep and permanent. You’re it for him.

U — Upset ⟢ How do they comfort you?

If you’re upset, Joel doesn’t push you to talk but he stays close. Wraps you up in his arms, lets you cry it out or vent, whatever you need. He’ll do anything to make it better, even if that just means holding you while it hurts.

V — Value ⟢ What do they value most about you?

He values your steadiness. Your softness. The way you make him feel like a good man, even when he’s not sure he is. You’re his peace.

X — X-Ray ⟢ How easily can they read you?

Joel knows you like the back of his hand. Doesn’t need words, he can read your silence, the way you hold your shoulders, the look in your eyes. He sees right through you. Always has.

Y — Yearning ⟢ How easily do they miss you?

He misses you after a few hours. Never says it like that, but it shows in how fast he comes home, the way his hands find you the second he walks in. Like he’s been holding his breath.

Z — Zzzz ⟢ What are nights like with him?

Nights with Joel are quiet, warm. His hand on your waist, his breathing evening out beside you. Sometimes he talks in his sleep. Sometimes he pulls you closer without waking up. Always, he’s there solid, safe, and yours.

[aph-ro-ditee]

sneaking off ~

solangelo one shot !!

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Will decided to play capture the flag, but is put against Nico. He decides to break the rules to see his boyfriend during the games.

The one time Will decides to participate in capture the flag, he and Nico are put on different teams. Of course, they would never go out of their way to hurt each other, but Nico was competitive and willing to go against his boyfriend if it meant helping his team. Will, on the other hand, just wanted everyone to be safe.

Before the games started, the two teams were lined up face to face so Chiron and Mr. D could go over some ground rules: No killing and no leaving camp borders. It was also general knowledge not to work against your own team. Anyone caught cheating or planning with the enemy was disqualified. Everything else was fair game.

Lined up to face the other team, Nico was on the left side of Percy, shoulder to shoulder with the armored team captain. Will was farther down his lineup, but his eyes were locked on Nico. No, his eyes weren’t on Nico, they were on Percy.

Was that jealousy on his face? Nico wasn’t sure his boyfriend was the jealous type, but he saw Will’s expression harden as his eyes made their way down to where Nico’s shoulder was touching Percy’s shoulder. Nico would’ve moved, but his line was so packed with campers, he couldn’t really go anywhere. Nico tried to speak with his eyes once Will’s finally found them.

What’s wrong?

Will smiled and shook his head. Nothing.

His smile warmed Nico, like it always did, but something else was there. His boyfriend was very aware of the crush he used to have on Percy Jackson, but he was also very aware of how far gone that crush was. Obviously it was silly for him to like Percy at such a young age, and his type in men had changed drastically since then. Nico felt bad that Will was worried about something like this, but really couldn’t get out of this position.

Their eyes locked again, both of them completely ignoring Chiron.

I miss you.

I miss you more.

Then, Will’s cheeks turned red with color and his eyes quickly averted Nico’s gaze. He immediately missed their silent conversation. It was crazy how much Nico yearned for any bit of Will’s attention. It was almost embarrassing.

As Nico pouted and Will’s head was kept down, Chiron blew a horn that made both of them jump. Immediately, campers ran to their respective meeting points and huddled up. Right before Nico and Will were lost in the crowd, Will shot him one last quick look.

Come find me.

Nico blushed. He knew that team members weren’t allowed to work together in any way, and he wasn’t used to his boyfriend wanting to break the rules, so this was exciting. Quickly, Nico made his way into his team huddle. Percy was talking fast but direct, as if he’d done this a million times (which he had). Then, his sea green eyes locked on Nico, and he smiled.

“You know what to do, shadow man.” Percy smiled a genuine smile.

“Don’t call me that.” Nico smiled back sarcastically and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Percy gave one right back.

The few times he had participated in this event, his job was always to shadow travel through the forest to get any information of the other team and where their flag might be. Fortunately, this gave Nico more than enough time to find Will and have no one wonder where he went. When the team broke off to hide the flag, Nico fled into the shadows.

Finding Will was hard. Nico travelled through the shadows of the trees, but the places he thought to look were all in the sunlight. The irony made Nico laugh— how a boy made of shadows fell for a boy made of light. The thought distracted Nico as he shadow travelled head first into another tree.

“Shit,” He cursed under his breath and grabbed his throbbing head.

“Gods, you move so fast, you have to be careful,” A familiar voice came up from behind him and his eyes took a moment to focus as he turned.

“Oh,” Nico was face to face with Will, who was in the darkest part of the forest. “I found you.”

Nico must have looked very lost and confused, because Will just laughed and nodded.

“Took you long enough. I was starting to get worried my teammates attacked you or something.” Will had his hand on Nico’s hand, still on his head. Nico wasn’t sure if he was using his healing powers, but he already felt better.

“Yea, sorry, I was…” Confused about your sudden urge to break the rules, Nico wanted to say. “Just looking for you in the light. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Around them, the trees went so high up they tangled into each other, creating a canopy of leaves. The sun was completely blocked out except for a few spots here and there. Nico wasn’t sure if it was because of the lack of natural light or because he was anxious about getting caught, but Will looked very pale.

“Well, I know they send you into the shadows to hunt out the other team, so I came here,” Will’s voice got softer. “I just needed to see you.”

Nico smiled, but Will was dead serious, his eyes piercing into Nico’s. It made his heart thump out of his chest so fast, he was sure everyone could hear it and catch the two enemies mingling. He blushed and tried to calm himself.

“Will,” Nico started, smiling through his words. “We could get in serious trouble if we get caught. You know that, right?”

For a moment, Will’s face filled with anxiety, running through every possible punishment they could receive if Chiron or Mr. D or their teammates found them. Then, his face softened and he smiled.

“I don’t care,” His hand was now on Nico’s neck, warm and gentle. “I want to make sure you’re okay. I needed to see you.”

“I would have been fine,” Nico shrugged off the statement. “I rarely see any action on the playing field because I’m always moving. I was actually planning on just following you to make sure you were okay.”

“I know you can handle yourself, I just worry,” Will flicked his eyes to Nico’s lips, just for a second. “And I missed you.”

Now, the two were closer than before, hands on each other and faces so close, their breathing intertwined. Nico’s stomach churned as his heart sped up again. Even in the dark, his boyfriend looked beautiful.

“Will,” Nico smiled. “We’re breaking the rules big time right now.”

“I know.” Will looked sick to his stomach, but his eyes were now locked on Nico’s lips.

“If you kiss me, we’ll be double breaking the rules.” Nico couldn’t help but tease his boyfriend, it was too easy.

“I know.” Will swallowed hard, as if he was keeping down his doubts.

Nico’s eyes fell on Will’s lips as he pressed into them. His hands gripped at his boyfriends arms and around his neck, lacing his fingers into his curly hair. Will’s hand was still on Nico’s neck, the other on his waist, pulling him closer into the kiss. A soft breeze blew through the trees and the rustling leaves made Will tense for a moment until his body relaxed again against Nico as they fell into a rhythm.

Will’s hand wandered down his boyfriend’s chest, which made Nico smile into the kiss. Since Nico was used solely as a silent hunter in the games, he never wore armor— it was too heavy to wear while shadow traveling and he never fought anyone anyway, so Will’s hand found it’s way under Nico’s shirt. The direct contact sent electricity through their bodies. The excitement from the intimacy and the nervous adrenaline from sneaking off created a tension between the two that was addicting.

Nico was strong. His body looked skinny and boyish, but his muscles said otherwise. He didn’t look buff at all, but Will could feel every muscle in Nico’s body tense just from his touch. He gently traced the line of his abs from his collarbone down to the hem of his pants. Will’s entire body felt hot as Nico choked back a gasp against their kiss and pressed closer to his boyfriend.

Will tugged lightly on Nico’s jeans, but he knew it wasn’t asking permission or initiating anything, just teasing. Still, Nico’s mouth got weaker every time Will’s fingers traced his lower abdomen, begging silently. Will smiled and pulled away, and Nico’s eyes immediately pleaded for him to come back. Instantly, his lips were on Nico’s neck.

The sensation felt too good— their hands all over each other, the gentle intimacy, the warmth shared between them. Will slipped his tongue out on to Nico’s skin when he quickly pushed away, turning his head to look behind him.

“What?” For a moment, Will was scared he had gone too far, but Nico looked scared, not uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?”

Nico’s head was turned for so long, it started to make Will anxious.

“Nico, what happened—“

“Shh.” Nico’s hand found Will’s shoulder and he squeezed it, giving him a silent apology for shushing him.

Nothing happened. Will hadn’t heard or seen anything but trees for miles behind Nico. Then, his head whipped back so fast it made Will jump, and his hand squeezed tighter on his arm.

“Your flag,” Nico’s eyes were now filled with a completely different kind of adrenaline— competitiveness. “Your flag is right there, behind those rocks.”

Sure enough, when Will looked again and the wind blew through the trees, he could see his team’s flag waving between a pile of boulders. Then, his eyes focused on his teammates surrounding it. The small area was surrounded by sunlight, which means they must’ve known Nico was using the shadows to travel.

“I heard something moving, it sounded like metal, I knew it had to be campers,” Nico was talking to Will, shooting his thoughts at him as if he were his own teammate. “If I can find a place close by those rocks within the shadows maybe I can—“

Their eyes locked as both of them remembered they were not supposed to be working together at all. Nico’s hand covered his mouth and his eyes went wide. Will smiled.

Quicker than their moment had ended, chaos struck the couple. Will’s hands reached out to grab Nico, but he was already gone. He broke into full sprint toward his teammates at the rocks to warn them as Nico reappeared right in front of Percy, who’d almost slashed him with his sword.

“Nico!” Percy lowered his sword. “That scares me every time—“

“The other team’s flag is between some rocks in the dark part of the forest,” Nico was out of breath but trying to point to where he had come from. “Not Zeus’ fist, different rocks. Different— it’s different rocks.”

“Okay, I get it, different rocks,” Percy did not seem to care about which rocks they were, he just started running in the direction Nico was pointing. “Just take us there!”

While Nico and his team were on the way, Will had already warned his team about the ambush.

“How did he find us?” Connor asked, getting impatient with Will’s very choppy story.

“Well,” He scratched his head. Will was not a good liar. “He must have, I don’t know, seen it from afar?”

“We picked a spot with sunlight for a reason. And what were you doing wandering around? You were on defense.” Connor’s face was never serious, but he had looked like he wanted to punch Will in the arm for disobeying his orders.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but Nico is meant to be a spy. He could be anywhere! All I know is that the other team is headed this way right now—“

As if on cue, a group of campers ambushed the flag site, Percy at the head of the group. Will’s eyes desperately searched for Nico, but he was no where to be seen. Then, all around him, a battle broke out. Enemy campers fought in hand to hand combat with Will’s teammates, while others tried to climb their way up and around the rocks. Will scurried around, trying to find his boyfriend.

Will was watching Percy fight Connor alone, captain against captain, when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the chaos.

“Will!” Nico whispered, hidden in the darkness.

“Nico,” Momentarily, Will was happy to see him, then his body swelled with anger. “What the hell is your problem? You set me up!”

“I set you up?” Nico’s expression changed from a warm smile to a cold frown. “You’re the one who asked to see me! You led me right to your flag!”

“Well you ran off to tell your team!”

“I want to win!” Nico wasn’t whispering anymore, but the noise of the fighting behind them drowned out their conversation.

“I want to win, too!” Will was angry, but he felt disappointed. This was his first time playing in the games and he had messed it up. Nico saw the worry on his face and his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry for running so quickly,” Nico spoke over the battle. “If it makes you feel better, they were heading in the right direction already. Even if I hadn’t told them, they would’ve found it eventually.”

Will knew Nico was just telling him that to make him feel better, but it worked. He could never stay mad at that face when those big, dark eyes looked at him. Will wanted to melt into him on the spot, but was snapped back into reality when he heard a prideful yell come from behind.

When they both turned, they saw Percy with the flag in his hands, running at full speed away from the rocks. It was probably adrenaline making him run that fast, because no one was chasing him— they had all been tired or injured from the battle beforehand. Will sighed.

“Hey,” Nico turned toward Will, who was watching his team lose the game. “Percy always gets the flag. It’s, like, totally unfair at this point. It wasn’t your fault.”

Will laughed. “Yea, I don’t know why they let him play when he has such an experience advantage.”

When Will looked back at where his flag had been, campers were bleeding, bruised, and completely passed out.

“I should probably go do what I’m best at,” Will gestured toward the post-battle injuries, then cracked his knuckles. “You gonna go celebrate with your team?”

“Maybe later,” Nico smiled watching his boyfriend fall back into a comfortable routine. “I’d rather help you for right now, like old times.”

“Old times?” Will raised an eyebrow at Nico who laughed at himself. “You helped me in the infirmary, like, a week ago.”

They laughed and talked, walking into the sunlight where the campers all were. Chiron had come down to pick up one camper who had been seriously injured and needed to be treated at the infirmary with more supplies, leaving about five others to be treated by Will and one other child of Apollo.

Nico watched as Will’s hands worked quickly and his skin glowed in the sun, the way it usually did when he healed people. He couldn’t help but blush. Will looked so confident and sure of himself as he talked campers through the pain or simply touched a bruise to make it go away. He and Nico talked about how he would probably never participate in the games in the future other than healing, and Nico laughed.

“That’s it?” Nico said. “Just one and you’re done?”

“Yea,” Will smiled. “I didn’t even do anything except heal the injured, I don’t know why I thought I could fight.”

“Well, you did do something.”

Will blushed and avoided Nico’s gaze. The camper they were healing cleared their throat, trying to break the silence which made Nico laugh again.

“You keep healing and I’ll be right there with you,” Nico smirked. “Since you can’t spend a moment apart from me.

“Will you stop?” Will shook his head at Nico’s laughter and his face was hot.

After talking to each other about anything and everything, and finishing up the last of injuries, the two headed back to camp where Nico was met with congratulations and a feast. Percy was already crowned and hugged and had a huge lipstick stain on his cheek (from who, he didn’t know. Annabeth never wore lipstick). After cutting through the crowd and saying a million “thank you’s”, Percy pulled Nico aside.

“Hey,” He whispered, but the dining hall was so loud, he could’ve yelled and he wouldn’t have been heard. “I really appreciate you on our team. It would’ve taken us forever to find the flag, so thank you.”

Nico wasn’t sure why he specifically was getting praised, but he didn’t hate it.

“Yea, it was no problem,” Nico thought about why he had found the flag in the first place and stumbled on his words. “I just— I found it when I—“

“I know, Nico,” Percy grabbed him by the shoulders and smiled proudly. Nico blushed. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Percy winked and hit Nico on the arm, like a father saying Atta boy! when his son gets a hot date. Then, Percy was off and got lost again in the crowd of people. Nico was so flustered from what had just happened that he didn’t see Will come up beside him.

“What was that about?” His voice snapped Nico back into the moment.

“Nothing important,” Nico tried not to sound suspicious, because there was nothing to be suspicious about. “He just wanted to thank me for helping them find the flag is all.”

“Oh,” Will smiled. “Well, I guess you were the hero today, not Percy.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that!” Nico rolled his eyes.

They both laughed and Will interlocked his fingers with Nico’s. They pushed through the campers to a table filled with all of the food you could imagine, and then some. The table quickly filled up with friends and other campers wanting to hear what had happened on the playing field— who found the flag, who drew first blood, who chickened out a ran. Of course, Will made it out to be all Nico’s heroic plan. Whenever he tried to cut in to say something different, Will just led it back to Nico. In the middle of an outrageous story, their eyes met and Will’s hand gave two squeezes on Nico’s leg under the table— a silent encouragement. They both smiled before returning to telling the story of how Nico won the game all by himself.

note: thank u for reading !! original fic by me, posted on my ao3 (sefoxx) fic inspo by twt user pjomiu hehe

[andy-15-07]

Hi! First of all, I just want to say I absolutely love your work — your writing always hits right in the heart.I wanted to request something emotional, heartbreaking, and full of angst. A one-shot where Joel is married to the reader, and they have a three-year-old son (you can choose his name). It starts with a completely normal day — a warm morning, their son playing and laughing, Joel holding a cup of coffee while the reader hums in the kitchen. That peaceful kind of love that feels real, lived-in, and soft.I’d love for it to show their connection — little glances, soft touches, the kind of family love Joel never thought he'd have again. But then, out of nowhere… a tragedy happens. Joel dies.The story shifts — suddenly, it’s his last moments. Maybe he’s bleeding out, fading fast, and in those final seconds, his mind drifts to the things he loves most:— the first time he saw the reader smile— the weight of their son in his arms for the first time— the sound of his little boy’s laugh— Sarah’s face, always present— the life he got to live, even if it was shortAnd he clings to that. To them. To the idea that maybe he’ll see them again, somehow.The reader might feel something strange that day, like a gut feeling she can’t explain. Maybe she almost says “I love you” again. Maybe their son waves goodbye like any other day, not knowing it was the last time.I’d love for it to be soft at the start, then full of angst and heartbreak, a story that feels warm… until it breaks you.Thank you so much for reading this. I really admire your work and the way you tell stories that stay with people.

See You on the Other Side

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1951 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The first light of dawn crept through the curtains, illuminating the small Jackson home in a gentle, honeyed glow. You lay still for a heartbeat, savoring the warmth, the quiet, the soft weight of Joel’s arm draped over your waist. Outside, a lone bird trilled, and somewhere in town a generator rumbled to life.

You shifted, the mattress creaking, and found Joel already stirring,green eyes half-lidded, that familiar stubble brushing your forehead. He exhaled, a slow, contented sigh.

“Hey,” you whispered, brushing your lips across his jaw.

“Hey,” he rumbled, pulling you closer. “Sleep good?”

You hummed into his chest. “Best night in months.”

He tightened his arm around you. “Best wife in the world.”

You rolled your eyes but let the soft ache in your chest bloom. It still astonished you,how this broken man, haunted by loss and rage, had built this life with you. A wife. A son.

By the time you reached your son’s room, he was wide awake, tumbling with reckless glee across the rumpled sheets. “Mama! Papa!” He scrambled to the edge, blinking sleep out of his ocean-blue eyes.

“Morning, my punkin’,” you cooed, scooping him up. His body was warm and heavy, head buried in your shoulder, arms clutching your neck.

“Breakfast! Pancakes!” he demanded through a mouthful of sheets.

“Pancakes it is.” You set him down and tickled his ribs; he squealed and kicked, tiny fists punching into your hands. You laughed, the sound light and sure, and you carried him into the kitchen.

Joel was already there, leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, flannel open at the collar. He smiled when he saw you: a slow, proud tilt of the lips.

“Morning,” he said, voice thick with sleep and something softer,happiness.

“Morning,” you echoed. Your son scrambled onto a stool, examining the syrup bottle with intense concentration. Joel lifted him up, settling him safely.

“If you two don’t mind, I’ll have a pancake,” he joked, rubbing his belly like a contented bear.

“Only if you help me flip them,” you challenged.

“Deal,” he grinned, and together you built a tower of butter-topped cakes. By the time Ellie padded in,sunlight catching her dark hair,you’d stocked half the table with bacon, fruit, and steaming mugs of coffee.

Ellie sat beside Joel, propping her elbows on the table. “Don’t think I didn’t see you sneak that extra slice,” she teased.

Joel held up a pancake like a peace offering. “Want some?”

She rolled her eyes but accepted it. “You’re impossible.”

“Not as impossible as you,” he shot back, and you caught the way they both smiled,an affection between old friends that made your heart swell.

You ladled syrup over your son’s pancakes, then set a plate before Ellie. “Eat up. Patrol leaves at four.”

Ellie groaned. “I know, I know. I just,can’t I get one lazy morning off?”

You reached across the table, brushing her cheek with your fingertips. “Only if you promise to be safe.”

She squeezed your hand, serious for a moment. “Always.”

After breakfast, you tucked your son into his high chair and sent Joel out to let the temperature gauge on the generator. With him gone, the morning stretched open,an invitation. You gathered your son’s hand in yours and led him toward the community garden.

It was one of your favorite corners of Jackson: raised beds framed by wildflowers, tendrils of tomato vines, buzzing bees. The earth smelled of promise. Your son toddled ahead, plopping his hands in the soil, giggling as it sifted between his fingers.

You sank to your knees beside him, planting carrot seeds. “Just a little deeper,” you instructed, guiding his tiny hand. “See? Cover it up, like this.”

He nodded solemnly, patting the soil. “Mama plant.”

“Yeah,” you said, and brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Mama and Papa plant together.”

He looked up at you, eyes bright, then turned back to his seeds: the closest thing to magic in a world that had lost nearly everything.

Mid-morning found you in the smithy with Ellie, helping her patch up some gear. Sparks flew as she hammered; the heat of the forge wrapped around you both. Ellie hummed to herself, and you couldn’t help but smile,this was home.

She glanced at you over her shoulder. “You two are… good for him, you know.”

You stiffened, surprised. “How do you mean?”

Ellie tapped her chin, thoughtful. “He’s calmer. He laughs… genuinely. It’s been a long time since I saw that.”

Your throat tightened. You thought of late nights, storytelling by the fire, him holding you when nightmares came. “He does that with you too, once in a while,” you reminded her.

“Maybe,” she admitted, but her eyes softened. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

You squeezed her hand. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Back at home for lunch, Joel returned, pockets laden with fresh-baked rolls from the bakery. You and Ellie greeted him at the door. Your son came toddling out of the living room,sticky-fingered and bright-eyed,straight into Joel’s arms.

He hugged your son tight, burying his face in that red hair. “Hey, champ.”

“Papa!” The boy laughed, patting Joel’s back.

You passed Joel a roll, biting into it. “These smell amazing.”

“Hot out the oven,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Brought enough for the crew.”

He turned to Ellie. “Better share.”

Ellie grabbed her plate and shoulder-checked him. “Guess I’m in luck today.”

The afternoon sun slanted low as you rounded up your son for his nap. Joel was packing his gear for patrol, checking clips and tightening straps. You watched him for a moment: the careful precision, the broad shoulders, the way he paused to scratch his temple, musing over something.

You crossed the room, pressing your palm against his chest. “You’re ready?”

He tilted his head, resting his hand over yours. “For anything.”

“Come back soon,” you whispered.

He bent and kissed your forehead. “I always do.”

You laid your son down, humming a lullaby he loved. His eyes fluttered closed, breath evening out. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and slipped quietly into the study, where you kept letters to other settlements, records of Jackson’s trade. You sat at the desk and picked up your pen, but your mind wandered,back to that first day you’d met Joel, a broken guard with haunted eyes; to the moment you’d held your son for the first time; to all the stolen joys you’d fought for.

You wrote a few lines, then set the pen down, leaning back in your chair. You closed your eyes, just for a second, and felt the world rebalance around you. Here, in this home, you were safe. You were loved.

A sudden tremor of unease prickled your spine. You opened your eyes, heart fluttering. Nothing stirred, but the silence felt too heavy. You stood, moving to the window and peering out. Jackson’s street was quiet, but you caught movement at the far gate,shadows flickering, people slipping through.

You pulled back; your pulse raced. You darted to the door, but before you could grab your son’s monitor, the front window exploded inward. Wood splinters sprayed; a man in scavenged armor appeared in the breach, gun raised.

“Down!” you screamed, scooping up your son.

Ellie burst in behind you, rifle swinging. “Y/N!” She shoved you toward the hallway.

You stumbled, clutching your boy to your chest. “Go!” you screamed at Ellie. “Keep him safe!”

Ellie hesitated,a flicker of panic in her eyes,then her face hardened. “I’ve got him,” she said, pulling you toward the stairs. “Go help Joel.”

You risked a glance back: the raider was shooting at Ellie, forcing her to raise her weapon in return. You bit your lip, tears stinging, and scrambled after Ellie, up the stairs, heart hammering.

Downstairs, Joel was tearing through the living room, shotgun at the ready. He barked orders: “Barricade the door! Get everyone out!” His voice was calm, controlled, but every breath he took seemed to cost him.

You appeared behind him, breathless. “Joel!”

He spun, shotgun trained at a second raider in the kitchen. “Y/N,go!”

You shook your head, pressing your lips together. “Not without you.”

He lowered the gun, eyes flicking over you and the shape of your son pressing against you. “Get him to the tunnels. Now.”

Your head snapped toward the stairs,Ellie herded your son downstairs, crouching behind a couch as other townspeople filed past. You exhaled and turned back to Joel.

He set the shotgun down, hands moving to his rifle. “Be careful.”

You crossed the room to him. “Always.”

Outside, the street was a war zone. Bodies lay scattered; smoke curled from burning crates. You called Joel’s name, voice cracking, as you and Ellie dashed forward.

In the chaos you found him,slumped against the pickup, eyes half-open, shirt soaked through. Ellie dropped to her knees; you threw yourself beside him.

“Joel!” you sobbed, sliding your son into Ellie’s arms. He looked up at you, clutching Ellie’s neck, wide-eyed.

“Stay with me,” you sobbed. “Please.”

His eyes flickered up at you, green depths shimmering. “I’m,sorry…”

You twisted your head to see Ellie setting your son safely against a fence, tears streaming down her cheeks. The world narrowed: Joel’s voice, your tears, your son’s small form.

“Tell… him… I love him,” you croaked.

He blinked, expression softening. “He knows.” He coughed, clutching at you harder, like an anchor. “You,you did good.”

“Don’t,don’t do this,” you choked out, bringing his hand to your lips. You kissed each fingertip.

Joel lifted his other hand,it trembled toward your cheek, brushing your hair back. “Thank… you, Y/N. For… for everything.” His voice was barely a whisper now, but you drank it in, burnished into your soul.

He shifted, weight slumping against you. You caught him, cradling his head. His eyes found yours one last time: fearless, full of love, full of sorrow. You let his gaze hold you.

“I’ll… see you… on the other side,” he whispered.

Tears blurred your vision. You pressed your lips to his, tasting copper and coffee and home. He exhaled one long sigh,then he was gone.

Silence descended like a shroud. Distant sirens called; the world waited in suspended grief. You cradled his head in your lap, tears falling onto his still face. Ellie stroked your hair, your son nestled against her shoulder, too young to understand but sensing the sorrow.

At dawn the next day, you stood on the hill overlooking Jackson, the valley bathed in pale gold. In your arms, your son held a chipped mug,the one Joel always used at breakfast. Ellie stood behind you, silent support.

You knelt and set the mug on the earth, then pressed your palms into the soil, letting it crumble through your fingers. You laid a simple fieldstone atop a mound of dirt.

“Joel Miller,” you said, voice quiet but clear. “Husband. Father. Protector of this town. You showed me what love can be, even in the darkest times. You taught our son how to laugh,how to live.”

Your son reached up, patting the stone like a curious friend. You wrapped an arm around him. “That was Papa,” you told him, voice trembling but steady.

He looked up at you. “Mama?”

You smiled through tears. “He’s always with us, sweetheart. In every sunrise, every pancake, every hug.” You scooped him close. “And one day… we’ll see him again.”

Ellie knelt on your other side, hands folded, eyes bright with tears. You stood together,a trio forged by love and loss,facing the horizon. The wind whispered through the grasses, carrying the promise of tomorrow.

And in that promise, you felt Joel’s voice, steady and warm: “I love you.” You smiled through your tears, knowing his love was the light that would guide you home.

[dark-alice-lilith]

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together for bucktommy please 🫶🏻

Here you go!!💜💜💜

Also on AO3

Tommy slowly awoke to the sound of soft talking around him, but he was too sleepy to focus on the words. There was a comfortable, warm weight on his chest, one that nuzzled against him and the arm wrapped around the weight tightened.

He kept his eyes, not yet ready to leave the cozy comfort he was feeling. There was a quiet snoring that his brain latched onto, pulling him back towards his slumber.

Sometime later, he felt the weight on top of him jostle and he awoke with a start, coming face to face with Evan. The probie quickly got off the couch, nearly stumbling as he did so.

“I uh-I’m sorry!” Evan apologized quickly, his face flushed and his eyes everywhere but on Tommy.

Tommy blinked his eyes a couple of times, his brain feeling a little fuzzy. He slowly moved to a sitting position, realizing they had fallen asleep with Evan on top of him. He didn’t even remember it happening. The last thing he remembered was sitting in the rec room with Evan because neither of them could sleep.

Sometime during the night, they must have gravitated towards one another once they finally did.

“It’s okay, Evan,” Tommy said, yawning and looking around the rec room. Hen was reading in a chair seemingly ignoring them but other than that, there was no one else around. “Did you at least sleep well?”

He watched as Evan’s cheeks darkened. “I uh-yeah…did you?”

‘Better than I have in years,’ he thought, but outwardly he just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Bobby called out from the kitchen. “Buck, would you like to help me?”

Evan bolted immediately and Tommy looked over his shoulder, watching his hands shake slightly as he helped Bobby get food to the table. He turned back around to see Hen had set her book on her lap and was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy just shrugged before standing up to go get some coffee. Remembering how good it felt to have Evan snuggled on top of him, how safe and content he felt. He wondered if it felt the same to Evan.

He didn’t know what was going on between them, but somehow, this kid had broken down his walls even further in the short year that they have known each other. It was terrifying how much he wanted to keep Evan in it.

He turned around, his mug in hand to see Evan was watching him. Tommy gave him a soft smile before taking a sip of his coffee. Evan smiled back, setting down the tray of cinnamon rolls in his hands and taking a seat.

Tommy walked over, taking the seat next to him, fingers itching to reach out and touch, to pull Evan into his arms once more.

Evan’s shield ceremony was only two weeks away and a month after that, Tommy was transfering to the 217.

Maybe, just maybe, when they were no longer under the same house, they would figure out this thing happening between them.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ In my sins, I look for you ❞

yandere!ftm!vampire X ftm!reader | reader has had top surgery & bottom growth | sub. bttm. reader  | wc: 6.2k

warnings: horror elements, dub. consent, blood kink, period sex, oral sex (r! receiving), frottaging, overstimulation (r! receiving), dominant & submissive elements, obsession

pt. 1 ;

authors note: is anyone ever disappointed at the lack of period sex (especially for ftms) fics that include a vampire? I am. BTW, Putra is a vampire based on Malaysian folklore – I wanted my own rep too, lmaooo. ;p Listening to ▸ Sang Penikam by Noh Salleh / M. by Anil Emre Daldal  Patreon | Discord

The horrors over his shoulder were strange. As you gazed upon the strings of flesh draped across the branches your mind floats away, as if disconnecting from your body as it tried to comprehend the gore around you. The scent of blood had soaked into the leaves, trailing down the pathways of the tree barks and dripping from the crumpled beer cans. Entrails and broken bones popped against the dim light, the sheen and heat that emitted from them causing your stomach to twist. Putra sings a song, his long hair shielding your line of sight as he tilted his head down at you. 

“Adinda,” his tone was soft as his now human face grinned down at you. The smears of blood across his lips reeked of a metallic tang and it didn’t even seem to bother him. The thick crimson that streaked down his jaw and onto your clothes made you whimper, so he shushed you gently. 

“Those brutes. Forgive me for the mess they forced me to make. Once we’re safe, home, I’ll change.”

You were shaking in his unnaturally strong grip. But Putra simply holds you closer, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder to warm you up as he walked casually through the woods. Retracing your footsteps in the night, going down the same path you had. 

How long has he been watching you? You wonder with dread. He was holding you in his arms as if you were nothing more than a stack of papers, and as your brain reminds you of how easily he tore through people’s bodies, you were certain you might as well be. Here you were, in the arms of a murderer with supernatural strength. Someone you weren’t even certain was a human. 

“Where are you taking me?” you whisper softly. The woods are thinning out now, the ground transitioning into the frat house’s manicured grass and eventually the asphalt sidewalks of your campus. The streetlights flickered above you as he passed by them, his soft humming causing a haziness to cloud your mind as you try to gather as much information as you could. You clearly weren’t going to win this with brute strength — just the sight of his bloody teeth as he smiled down at you caused ripples of gooseflesh across the back of your neck.

”Home. Oh, well, a house. We’ll need to keep you safe. Your scent is far too sweet, sayangku.”

He lifts his gaze ahead and his eyes darken. You feel the brush of his hair against your cheek as it lifts up, defying the laws of gravity as his cheeks lift up into that unnatural, wicked, smile.

”They can smell you.”

You know you shouldn’t. But there was a chance that maybe what he was seeing was other people, so you turn to follow his gaze and your breath gets caught in your throat. The sidewalks that had been empty before, safe from a few students going to the party or some other, were now littered with these figures. They were hiding behind the poles, bloodshot eyes trained on you. They looked odd, some barely humanoid as they towered over the trees or tried to follow Putra’s steady pace with their tiny bodies. A few of them tried hard too mimic people, with four limbs and a head as they stood on two legs but then it was their faces or their posture or their stature.

Too skinny and tall, limbs dragging onto the floor. Head shaped oddly, too many eyes, too little eyes. 

One stood in the way of Putra. It was wrapped in a dirty white cloth, feet and arms bound together as the only thing that showed was its rotting face. It fixed its cloudy eyes on you, bending its knees then jumping to get close. Although the act seemed ridiculous, the stench and the hunger it had emitting from it made you lean into his chest. You clutched at his blood soaked shirt and his chest rumbled, a shriek building in his throat as he slowed his steps. 

“What the fuck are they?” your voice might as well have echoed. The world had gone quiet and you found that your breath was becoming visible in the air. Putra and that thing continued to stare the other down as they both got closer, his grip on you tightened as it began to growl. 

“Hantu,” he snarled out. 

“Bau kau manis sangat, mata batin kau terbuka. Bangsat semua. Dia milik aku!”

The wrapped ghost snarls in return, gnashing his teeth together which makes Putra spin on his heel, keeping his eyes trained on it as he walks backwards. It glowered, bending its knees again which made Putra laugh. For a moment, you think he might actually fight the thing with you in his arms but he glances down at you and whatever anger he had within him drains.

You were terrified. Trembling like a leaf in the wind, the blood drained from your face as you clutched at his shirt and squeezed your eyes shut. 

These bastards could wait their turn to be ripped apart. Putra had to bring you to somewhere safe, where they wouldn’t bother you. 

Somewhere the both of you can finally just be together. 

You recognized the building. The warm red bricks and iron wrought gates — it was Will’s apartment. His parents had rented it out before he enrolled in university, and now it was his while he studied. It was a more quiet area of town, the other tenants keeping to themselves. You’d been here a few times to study, revelling in the loft he had and making use of his big oven during a bleak Christmas break where he spent his time with you after you had a nasty spat with your folks. It was filled with happy memories, warmth imbued in the wooden floors and the Polaroids pinned to the living room wall. 

It’s jarring to see it now. Dark, cold, eerily quiet safe from the sounds of your own breathing. Every bit of life had been sapped away from his apartment, the air stale and dusty. 

“Will?” you called out, flinching when Putra shot you a tepid glare. That made you shrink into yourself, he’d only been mad at you one time and he caused a massacre right in front of your eyes. You weren’t going to see what he’d do if it were just the two of you. 

He sets his jaw, gently setting you down on Will’s grey L-shaped couch before he finally tries to wipe away the blood from his mouth. At this point, it’d dried and it barely wiped off and had merely smudged across the back of his hand and sleeve. You bring your knees to your chin, wrapping your arms around your legs as you watch him fuss over the mess on himself. 

“…Who are you?” 

Putra narrows his eyes, glaring at his clothes as he stands. He walks to the kitchen, turning the sink faucet as he washed his hands clean. 

“You know who I am. You called —“

”I didn’t,” you cut him off, brows pinched together as you watch the tenseness in his shoulder. ”I didn’t call you.”

”But you did,” he pressed the final word, as if needing you to realise that he didn’t just pop out of thin air like you thought he did. He braced his hands on the sinks edge, bringing the water to their lips and chins. “Just like I’ve been calling for you.”

”My dreams? That was you?” He perked up, eyes lighting up as he glanced at you from over his shoulder. “Yes, that was me.”

You felt like punching him in his creepy face. All those sleepless nights, waking up in cold sweat and suffering through a sleep deprived headache throughout the entire day. Needing to work harder to catch up with classes, missing outings with friends because you were too tired; all because he’d been ‘calling’ for you?

”Why?” you’re gritting your teeth together, trying to keep your emotions in check before you do something you regret. As unassuming as he looked now, you knew how quickly that could change. ”Why were you calling for me?”

Putra turned, walking towards you as pinkish water dripped down his chin. For a moment, he towered over you, his height increased by the shadows that freely peeked through Will’s wall of windows. He then kneels politely in front of you, folding his hands on his lap as he tilts his head downwards, gesturing with his eyes to your fisted hands. 

You uncurl your fingers and he’s so careful as he takes your hand into his grasp, feeling the curve of your knuckles and joints as he turns your palm up. He presses his lips there, the scar down the left side of his lip pressing to the pads of your fingers as he sighs and melts into your touch. You stiffen unsurely, heart hammering in your chest as he nuzzles his face into your hand. 

“Because we’re intertwined, our fates are attached.” He says this as though it is a factual, common knowledge shared among people when it absolutely wasn’t. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, adinda. Waiting, and waiting, for you to call for me. So we can be together. This land is strange now, the people are stranger, but you’re still the same.”

Putra looks at you and you can see the adoration within him pour out with every slow blink, those long lashes he had tickling your palm as he strokes the back of your hand. Touching you with reverence as he kneels before you when he’d already shown you just how powerful he was. 

“You’re still mine.”

”You’re not answering my questions clearly,” you sigh, pursing your lips as you try to make sense of the nonsense he’d spewed out in that soft voice. 

“How else should I answer such menial questions?” He surges to your face, lifting himself off his calves as he invades your space. Putra’s hair has this weirdest habit, almost as if it was emoting with him — the ends of it curl and lift with delight and anger and at the moment, as he comes closer to you they were lifting in complete delight. You place a hand on his shoulder and he instantly freezes. 

The sides of his mouth twitch but his thick brows slope, a semi-pout painting his features. You blink owlishly at him, trying to find the words as the seconds tick past. 

“…Adin —“

”I’m not kissing you until you answer all my questions. Normally. Clearly.”

You held your breath as he processed your words. But to your surprise, and chagrin, he starts chuckling. It’s unlike the shrieking he’d done, no fear rushed through you or the fine hairs on your neck lifting in alarm. He sounded like a normal person, and you scolded yourself for the rush of blood that pooled to your cheeks. 

“Alright, I’ll play your game. How many questions do you have for me?”

‘How about a 100?’ you wondered derisively but settled for 10. Putra settles himself back onto his ankles, hands once again politely folded on his lap as he nods encouragingly at you. 

“Okay, first question,” he hums to let you know he was listening. You clench your jaw, waiting for your brain to come up with something that would give you more answers than questions — you glance at the scar on the right side of his face, it was an odd little addition to the symmetry of his face. He curls the corner of his lips, tilting his head as he connects your gazes together. 

“What’s your name?” a flash of hurt crosses his face. His smile turns into a lipless frown, he turns his gaze to his lap and you feel an inane sprout of guilt. You couldn’t let him know that you had somehow figured it out — he was already convinced that somehow you had called for him, if he knew that his name had surfaced in the dark ether of your mind it would only enable him. 

“My name is Putra,” he whispered. 

“What are you?” Putra brings his hands together on his lap, threading his fingers through the other as his lower lip juts out. 

“I’m…yours?” you deadpan and he looks away from you. “We agreed you’d answer it normally and clearly, Putra.”

His name coming out from your mouth makes his eyes brighten up. You tuck this valuable piece of information in your mind for sticky situations.

”I’m…a vampire, of sorts.”

”Of sorts?” 

“Are you sure you want to use that as a question?” 

You huff through your nose, narrowing your eyes as you let your eyes take in the state of Will’s home. It was clean, but the little plants he had were beginning to wilt and you eye the trashcans he had, relieved that there wasn't any rotting food nor any flies buzzing around. 

“What happened to Will?” 

All at once, the room goes cold. Putra’s eyes go dark as he looks up at you, the moonlight flooding in through the windows making his skin much paler. You stiffen as his face goes void with emotion, tendrils of his hair lightly raising in contempt until he glances away again. Your breath comes back to you but you don’t dare move 

“He was a coward. What kind of men do you have in your life, adinda? He ran the moment he felt an inkling of fear. Dasar penjajah.” 

“What is that? What are you saying? That word you call me — what does it mean?” 

He frowns at this. Brows pinched in utter confusion. 

“Kau lupa bahasa ibunda?” 

Your frustrated silence is an answer, he swallows his confusion and answers. 

“That,” he says in a pointed tone. “Is Bahasa Malayu, I’m insulting those cowards and his bloodline of colonizers and the word,” his face softens the tiniest bit but then he continues. “That word is a word of affection. Something husbands call their partners. That’s six questions, you have fours left.” 

“You’re a vampire, you said. You sent those nightmares my way — you said I called for you and…and now you’re calling me your husband. I…I’ve never met you before.”

”Not in this life,” he mutters. “And for that, I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

“What do you mean by this life?” 

“Back then, we were taught that our souls do not reincarnate. Those foolish religious sycophants. You and I, we’re proof that they’re wrong. Your soul is the same, even if things are different. And I’m the same as before, you will see it soon.”

”Reincarnated?” you had never really thought of the terms and conditions of the afterlife. You’d work yourself into knots, finding little loopholes to the rules, daydreaming about the possibility of heaven and hell but reincarnation had never really been that satisfying. In one life, you were a humble man with a family and in the next, you could be reborn as a cow in a dairy factory or a rock. It felt odd hearing people claim that in their past lives, they were a famous figure or some evil dictator — so you can’t quite fathom what this vampire — ‘of sorts’ — was even saying. 

“I waited, I said, I waited for you,” Putra reaches for your hand again and his touch makes a shudder run through you. Ice cold, like a corpse. 

“Eight questions, two left.”

”Wha — That — That does not count.” Putra chuckles, trailing the edges of his lips to your fingers and palm and finally your wrist, eyelashes fluttering as he takes a breath. He pauses, eyes nearly rolling back as he looks at your lap, mouth slowly hanging open; his tongue wets his lips and the hint of teeth you see makes you eerily aware of how hungry his gaze is and what you had currently spilling from between your legs. 

He kept saying you smelled sweet. Even the thing in your apartment said the same. Your scent is too sweet, he growled out to you when the wrapped ghost had appeared and you’re hit with a sudden realization that he had meant it was because you were bleeding. Blood was used in all sorts of rituals, Hollywood horror movies that involved witches or black magic had taught you that much no matter how inaccurate everything else seemed. 

“Putra,” you tried to make your voice stern but it wavers anyways. He flicks his eyes to you, and you gasp softly at how blown out his eyes were — nearly swallowing the whites of his eyes as he waits for you to speak. 

“Two more questions,” you reminded as you cupped his cheek in your hand. Your touch causes him to politely close his mouth, relishing in the warmth of your palm. 

“How long have you been waiting for me to…for my soul to reincarnate?” 

Putra’s breath shudders on its way out, you could feel it brush over your skin as he tightens his grip on your hand. 

“It felt like an eternity. All I remember was falling asleep next to you, then just restless dreams.” 

You inwardly mutter that he deserved it but something about his sentence causes you to blurt out your last question. 

“Falling asleep next to me?”

He nods as his eyelids flutter open — the lashes tickling you as he raises onto his knees again. The hunger in his eyes returned this time, but there was this melancholy in them this time. Putra’s eyelids grew heavier, the bump on his nose grazing your cheek as he wrapped those deathly arms around your body. You feel him squeezing you, tighter and tighter but not enough to worry you. It spreads a rush through you, a layer of comfort you’d never known before in the form of him. 

He cradles the back of your head and your knees give way to his torso just as your eyes shine with tears.

”Like this,” he says into your ears. His chest presses over yours and you can feel the press of his mass flushed to your ribs. As if he was intent on melting into you, devouring you, like he wanted to be so close to you he wished to imprint the shape of him against yours. 

His face tucks into your neck, you gasp at his brush of teeth but he stays chaste as he breathes you in. 

“We held each other, like this.”

It’s your warmth that causes his lower lips to quiver. Oh, you don’t know just how he missed this, missed you. 

To feel your heart race against him, to feel your shuddering breath over his ears, to feel your body thrum with energy and life. 

Never again will he allow anyone to take this from you; he’ll be sure of that. Putra would be your sole protector in this life, forever and ever and ever. If death himself couldn’t rip Putra away from you, was life naive enough to try again?

“That’s ten questions,” you try to find an excuse to stop him but when he pulls away enough you’re stunned at the serene smile on his face. You swear you see a flush of red on his skin as his eyes squish into crescent moons. Putra brushes a thumb over your cheek, you pretend not to see flashes of horror behind your eyes with every blink. 

He places his forehead over yours, tendrils of his hair falling over his shoulder as he takes in every little detail of yours face. You feel the hand on your head push your head forward, a firm insistent in his pose as he flicks his dark eyes to your lips. 

“May I kiss you, adinda?”

Although he asks this, you know it’s just for show. You were trapped in his hold, his hunger pinning you in place as he waited impatiently for your meaningless answer.  You curl your hands into fists and lean forward, pushing your lips onto his. 

He groans into the kiss, the ends of his hair lifting as he pushes against you. You feel him moving, turning his head as he keeps you there, holding onto the nape of your neck as he places his knees besides your legs, effectively straddling you as he whimpers desperately.

”Putra — wait —“

”More, please,” he pants out. You keep your lips firmly shut, squirming now in his hold and he makes a noise akin to a wounded animal. Still, he presses his lips to yours. Kissing you again and again, his chest rising and falling as he relishes in the feeling. Your eyes widen when you notice him crying. 

Dark red liquid lines his eyes, slipping down the curve of his cheek as he stares down at you. It’s a ghastly sight, further proving his inhuman nature but you can’t help but stare at him as he cries crimson tears. It shimmers under the silvers of the night, like ruby gems decorating his face. Priceless bloody pearls that streak down to his neck and shirt, and onto your cheek as he sobs softly. 

“Please, adinda. Engkau sahaja yang aku mahu, engkau sahaja yang…engkau…” he tries to wipe his bloody tears away from you and you realize that he’s shaking. Here he is, a man strong enough to rip people into ribbons of meat, a vampire who’d been waiting for you for…for forever; sat on your lap, crying because he…

”I don’t…I don’t understand, Putra. I want to, but I don’t understand,” your voice was soft, afraid to cause him further distress. A drop of his tears paint your lips but you hold off on reacting as you watch him. 

“Please, let me kiss you. I can be good for you, I’ll protect you, I’ll make sure no one will ever hurt you like they did tonight. I know you said you don’t know me, that you didn’t mean to call for me, but you do. You do,” he laughs softly as he uses both hands to tenderly hold your face. He draws in closer again, his eyes nearly as greedy as him as it eclipses everything else in your sight. The red was beginning to stain the whites in his eyes and you lean backwards but he simply chases. 

“Kau mandi bunga, jumpa bomoh bodoh itu, suruh dia bukakkan mata batin. Semua itu untuk aku. Jiwa dan raga kau tahu.”

”You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.” 

“Putra, you’re scaring me,” he shushes you softly, soothing you like he would a baby as he brushes his lips over yours. 

“You’ve nothing to fear, cinta hatiku. I’ll never hurt you.”

His kisses this time weren’t insistent. It was commanding. You felt him grip onto your jaw and puppet you to his whims, you whimper into his mouth and he simply swallows it up. Everything, everything about you makes him lose his mind. It’s like you don’t see it — how handsome you were that night.

He’d felt the pull, heard the key turn and unlocked the doors to his cold prison the second that cold water washed over your face, the fragrant flowers sticking to the sides of your neck and your hair and the curve of your lashes. It was as though he was alive again as he watched from the corner of the room, feeling himself be stitched together by your acknowledgement of his existence. Dust and ash condensed together until his shape was complete and the first thing he did was admire you. 

Rose wasn’t the most tactful shaman, but Putra could smell it from her blood that she came from a long line of strong women. He hadn’t minded her, or the strange place he was now in, but he noticed Will. Holding his phone as he recorded the intimate ritual, recorded you topless and wet and dazed and Putra couldn’t believe it. This man, with his nose-curling scent, and too sharp smile — if Putra hadn’t been too weak at that moment he would’ve torn him apart. 

He watched as you barely came too, dizzy from Putra using your energy. Will had helped you with your clothes, and Rose watched Putra’s shape from the corner of her eyes. It was funny seeing her pride shift to wariness and settle on dread when his body finally became tangible enough for her to recognize what he was. 

“This energy isn’t malicious,” she’d told you. “It simply wants to communicate with you, this spirit is full of love. It won’t hurt you.”

She wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t malicious towards you, he wants to talk to you, he was full of love for you. He won’t hurt you.

This did not apply to anyone else.

Will had said goodbye to Rose and she knew it in her gut that that would be the last time he’d see him again. 

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, drowning in the taste of darkness as the scent of jasmine overtakes your senses. Putra is relentless, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as he practically eats you alive. You feel your body melt against the couch, no longer leaning away but instead giving him more room as hazy memories fill you.

Kissing someone had never felt like this damning before. You weren’t a virgin, you’d had your fair share of lovers and partners but they had never managed to make you feel this rush before. You could pinpoint fear but in that hurricane of emotions, you felt a sense of nostalgia — it felt like a copout, some inane bullshit the universe was throwing your way to make this feel okay and you hated that you were taking it. He kissed you the way you liked, shameless as he sucked on your tongue, barely giving you room to breathe as he whispered your name against your lips. Nose bumping into yours, his strong hands loosening their hold as they trailed down your neck.

An ache settles deep within you. You try to push it down, try to swallow it to find some rationality in this supernatural mess but Putra pulls away; a trail of blood and spit now smeared across his mouth as he gazes down at you.

”Please,” he begs. You see the puffs of air between you as he gingerly traces his hands down your sides, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. 

“Let me show you how well I know you, how much I worship you.”

You must be delirious. Insane. Losing your goddamn mind. In a state of psychosis even. But your silence is answer enough and Putra carefully pushes your knees apart. 

He’s starving — hands gripped under your thighs as he slips his tongue to your sex. Again, and again, and again. You’re panting, gripping onto the back of the couch as he groans, his pink muscle worming in and moaning at the taste of you. That metallic tang, that sweetness that causes his eyes to go dark like a shark. You can’t find the words — tongue heavy like lead as he messily dives in again. 

“You’re shivering” Putra murmurs to your thighs, biting down on your flesh as he gives your poor cunt some momentary relief. “Are you cold?”

continued ▸ Patreon

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Where We Stand

Summary: Logan does something that makes you second-guess everything.

Pairing: Logan Howlett X Plus-size! Reader, Logan x Jean

Wordcount: 746

Warnings: angst and cheating, arguments.

A/N: This isn't exactly how I wanted the story to go but it is what it is. 🥲

You hadn’t meant to see it.

You weren’t looking for pain.

You were just early. That was all. The art exhibit Logan had invited you to was only a few blocks from his apartment, and you had wanted to surprise him. Maybe catch a coffee together before the event. Laugh a little. You liked the way he laughed, warm and unguarded, like it didn’t come easily to him, but he gave it to you anyway.

So you climbed the stairs to his place, excited.

You paused upon reaching his apartment. The door was slightly ajar. You heard voices. One of them was Logan’s. The other familiar. Too familiar.

Jean.

Your breath caught before you even saw them. When you pushed the door open a few inches more, the sight on the other side clamped around your chest like a vice.

Jean was in Logan’s arms. Not in a casual way. Not even in a confusing way. Their lips met like they remembered exactly how to find each other. Like they never really forgot.

You stepped back instinctively, the wood of the door creaking. Logan pulled away from Jean instantly, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t sure he regretted yet. His eyes locked with Your’s.

“Y/N—wait!.”

But you didn’t.

You walked fast, head down, past confused faces on the sidewalk. Your chest ached, but not in a dramatic, movie-scene kind of way. It was dull, slow, a betrayal unraveling in silence under your skin.

You didn’t cry until you were home.

Logane came over the next day, trying to explain, and that's when the fight started.

He came, uninvited but not unexpected. You didn’t open the door at first. But when you finally did, Logan looked like he hadn’t slept. Like he’d fought himself all night.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said.

You stared at him, arms folded over your chest. “But it did happen, Logan.”

“Yes. And I’m not going to pretend it didn’t. But it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Oh? So she tripped, and your face happened to catch hers?”

He winced. “It was a mistake.”

You laughed bitterly. “No, Logan. A mistake is forgetting someone’s birthday. What you did was a choice. And it’s making me wonder what I ever meant to you.”

He stepped forward. “You mean everything to me.”

“Do I?” you shot back, tears burning. “Because let’s be honest, you don’t exactly parade me around like someone you’re proud of. You keep me close, but never in your life. Your friends barely know me. You say you like that I’m ‘real’ and that I don’t look like everyone else, but sometimes it feels like I’m your rebellion, not your partner.”

Logan looked wrecked. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I messed up. Jean was my past—I don’t want her. I want you.”

“You wanted me,” you corrected. “Before I saw you choose someone who’s safe. Someone who fits into your world better.”

Silence stretched between you two like a chasm. Logan opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words to fill it.

You wiped your face, steeling yourself. “I loved you, Logan. And I don’t know what to do with that now.”

He looked at you like he still wanted to reach for you, but didn’t dare. “I love you, too.”

Her eyes welled again, but this time, you held them back.

“I know,” you said softly. “That’s the worst part.”

Logan gave you space, and that space turned into weeks

The two of you didn’t talk anymore. Sometimes, you’d catch yourself looking at the door, wondering if he’d show up. Sometimes he did. But you didn’t always let him in.

One day, you opened the door. That led to the two of you trying again once. Laughed like old times. Kissed like you didn’t know better.

But trust, once cracked, doesn’t fit back the same. Love was still there, loud and trembling, but it sat beside doubt now, and silence too often followed the warmth.

So one day, you both stood on the edge of that same question:

What are we doing?

You didn’t have an answer.

So you held each other one last time. Not as lovers. Maybe not even as friends. But as people who had seen something bright in each other, and maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to hold on to the light without burning for it.

And then you let go.

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[itzsyds]

girl I just had an idea for Hector fort x reader

how about reader is from London and has never lived in any other country but fell I love with Hector fort in a summer holiday with her family 3 years ago now they are still together reader is 18 Hector is 19 when they are the beach one night reader tells Hector she is pregnant. The young couple arse so nervous but so excited. How will readers family react when she tells them A: she is pregnant and B: she is moving from London to Barcelona to raise her baby with her true love Hector and leaving everything in London behind like her friends and family . Readers family being sceptical at a bit worried at first but they come around and are so happy for Hector and reader

Hector Fort x Reader

Oceans Between Us🌊

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Can’t lie this one was fr a next level juicy one to try plan & write cause I did not want it to be too long or too short. Hope this was good enough for you anon🩷😭

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FLUFF- A London girl living a simple, city-centered life meets Hector Fort during a dreamy summer vacation in Spain. What started as a holiday romance blossomed into a love so strong that even oceans couldn’t separate them. Now both adults, she faces the biggest decision of her life— and it's not just about being pregnant. It’s about choosing love over comfort, Barcelona over London, and a new life over everything she's ever known…

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The salt air was cool against her skin as she walked barefoot along the beach. Tiny waves lapped at the sand, glittering under the soft moonlight.

Hector walked beside her, his hand warm in hers, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her palm— a small gesture that always made her feel safe.

Three years…

Three years since she first met him on this very beach, during a family holiday to Spain when she was only fifteen.

She could still remember that night: the way his laughter had floated across the water, the way he'd looked at her like she was the only girl in the world.

Now, she was eighteen, he was nineteen, and they were still here— still them.

She stopped, facing the ocean, nerves tangling in her stomach. She squeezed Hector’s hand tighter.

He noticed immediately. "What’s wrong, mi amor?" (My love) he asked, his voice low and concerned.

She turned to him, searching his familiar brown eyes, the ones she'd fallen for so long ago.

"I need to tell you something," she whispered.

Hector tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You can tell me anything."

Her heart pounded against her ribs. She took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment.

"I’m pregnant."

The words hung between them, fragile and heavy.

For a second, Hector just stared at her, as if trying to process. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again— and then he laughed, a breathless, almost disbelieving sound.

"You’re serious?" he said, eyes wide with something between shock and joy.

She nodded, tears stinging her eyes. "I found out a few days ago. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was scared."

He caught her face between his hands and kissed her— so fiercely, so full of love it made her knees buckle.

"Are you happy?" she whispered against his lips.

"I’m the happiest man alive," he murmured. "Scared...yes. But so happy. We're going to be a family, cariño." (Honey)

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in the sounds of the sea and the magnitude of their future.

But reality crept in, as it always did.

They had so much to figure out.

First and foremost— her family…

—

Two days later, she sat at the dining table in her London home, nervously twisting her ring around her finger. Her mum, dad, and younger brother were chatting about nothing in particular, but she barely heard a word. She caught Hector's eye across the table. He gave her an encouraging nod.

She cleared her throat.

"Can I say something?"

Her mum smiled. "Of course, darling."

Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. "I'm... I'm pregnant."

The table went silent. Utterly, painfully silent.

Her dad was the first to speak. "Pregnant? Are you...sure?"

She nodded, heart hammering in her chest. "I’ve been to the doctor. I’m about three months along."

Her mum’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes glossy with unshed tears— but it wasn’t clear yet whether they were happy or sad.

"And there's more," she said, gathering her courage. "I’m moving to Barcelona. I want to raise the baby there. With Hector."

Her brother made a shocked sound, but quickly quieted when he caught the serious look on her face.

Her dad leaned back in his chair, frowning deeply. "Leaving everything? Your home, your friends, your family?"

"I love him," she said simply. "I always have. We’ve been making it work long distance for three years. This isn’t just a summer fling anymore. He’s my family now."

The silence stretched.

Both her parents exchanged a long, loaded look.

"I know it’s a lot," she said quietly. "And I know you’re worried. I’m scared too. But I’m sure about this. I’m sure about him."

Her mum reached across the table, grabbing her hand. "You’re so young," she whispered. "It’s not that we don't believe you love him. It’s just... this is a huge step."

"I know," she said. "But I’m ready. We're ready."

For a long moment, it felt like the world might crack in two. But then, slowly, her mum smiled— a wobbly, watery smile.

"If this is what you want, darling... then we’ll support you."

Her dad sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just promise us you’ll visit. A lot."

"I promise."

And just like that, the weight lifted.

Her family hugged her, holding her tightly, as if trying to memorize the feeling before she flew across the ocean.

They were sceptical, yes.

Worried, of course. But love— real, messy, unconditional love— had won. Hector would be her rock during this new chapter in her life.

—

A few months later, she stood outside a little house near the Barcelona coast, Hector's arms wrapped around her from behind. Her belly had rounded slightly, a visible sign of the tiny life they had created together.

The sun was setting over the water, casting everything in a golden glow.

“Are you ready?" Hector asked softly.

She turned in his arms and smiled up at him, her heart bursting at the seams.

"I was born ready."

And with that, they stepped into their new life together— not perfect, not easy, but theirs.

Forever.

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Last one for today me thinks🙃

Thanks for the requests guys! Do keep them coming even if it’s for a player I don’t write for I may consider it like I did with Hector x