#I made you something to read when you wake up

[mallory524]

going out

bob x reader

pictures from pinterest

summary- You and Bob finally spend some time together one morning, but you find yourself rushing to defend him when he gets overwhelmed and people aren’t kind to him.

word count- 1,691

warnings- THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS, fluff, pining, just a little language, hand holding, stranger being rude to bob :(

notes- the thunderbolts live in the watchtower (previously the avengers towers) because that’s what the post credit scene made it seem like and if I’m wrong I don’t care because I love the idea of them all being roomies :)

Although things hadn’t gone as expected, they are plenty of perks that come with being the New Avengers. The group hangs out together in the Watchtower all the time, none of you have to hide in the shadows anymore, and all the other accompanying “hero” perks. Helping the city by reversing the Void damage thrust the Thunderbolts into the spotlight, which typically just meant being waved to on the streets, and a lot of being told “your money’s no good here” with a big smile when you go out to eat.

Although the group fights a lot, there’s an unspoken understanding that you’re a real team now. More and more often the bickering is playful rather than actually malicious. At risk of sounding sentimental, real bonds are being made. Of course none of you would ever admit that out loud. Except maybe Alexei.

Bob’s enjoying his new life, too. Probably. You assume. He’s still a quiet guy, and sometimes he opts to stay in and read when you all go out for lunch or something. He’s still working through a lot, but everyone else is too, so you know to give him space. It’s clear to all of you that he’s slowly getting a bit more comfortable here with every passing day.

One cold morning, while everyone is sleeping in, you hear rustling and muttering in the other room. You throw on a robe and silently walk into the other room to investigate. Bob’s on the ground picking a bunch of papers up, and he whips his head around when he hears your footsteps.

“Sorry, I accidentally knocked all of Bucky’s things over. I’ve got it”, he says as you sit down next to him and help anyway. For a split second your fingers brush, but he pulls away, almost instinctively. You’d noticed that physical touch in general didn’t seem to bother him that much, but little soft moments like that make him nervous.

He’s gotten a bit of a handle on accidentally showing people memories they didn’t want to see, but maybe he’s nervous that he’d do it again without meaning to.

“Hey, have you had anything to eat yet?”, you say quietly, trying not to wake anyone else up. He shakes his head.

“Do you want to get something? There’s a coffee place I go to a lot. They have little pastries and stuff, too, if any of that sounds appetizing...”

He thinks about it for a second, and then smiles and nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Inside the coffee shop, it’s cozy and warm. You take off your large sweater, and your phone falls out of the pocket and onto the floor, and both you and Bob reach down for it at the same time. Your hands brush again and he nervously pulls away again. You lean in a little closer and speak quietly. “Bob if you’re worried about-”

“No no, I’m not- it’s not that. That’s under control. I’m just… it’s nothing”. He’s clearly having trouble expressing himself, and he doesn’t seem to want to, so you shake your head and smile politely.

“Hey man, don’t worry about it.” You get a smile in return, which is always nice to see. Bob has a nice smile. It’s so sweet and warm… you can’t deny it any longer. Bob is really cute.

He felt the same way about you, but he’s way too scared to tell you something like that. He’s already jittery enough every time your hands touch…

He really likes being around you. He’s just too shy to ask you to spend time with him, so he’s thrilled that you asked him.

You start to order your usual drink, and Bob gets in the line next to you. The girl taking your order remembers you from the last time you were there, so you talk to her for a little. She’s really sweet! The guy taking Bob’s order is not.

You go to the station with the straws and napkins, and you quietly watch Bob try to order. You realize you didn’t really ask him if he was ready to order, and now he’s at the front of this line trying to figure out what he wants. Bob’s starting to stammer a little and this barista guy is cutting him no slack.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what I’m going to get, I’m thinking…”

“Sounds like something you should’ve figured out before you got to the front of the line”, he says, scoffing a little.

“Yeah you’re right, it was just really fast and-” Bob looks down and shuffles his feet a bit.

“You know there’s people behind you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just… um…” Bob trails off, and you can tell that the idea of holding up the line and making all these people wait for him is only making this worse. He’s nervously laughing to try to keep it light, but you can also see him fiddling with the ends of his sleeves while squinting to read the small writing on the menu. You feel your heart break a little just watching him.

“Dude if you seriously can’t figure it out maybe you could get out of line”

Just as Bob is about to step away, you decide you’re not going to watch this anymore and you step up next to him.

“Hey do you know who the hell you’re talking to?”, you say in a hushed, almost professional tone with your arms crossed. “You’re talking to someone who helped save everyone here like a month ago.”

The guy’s eyes widen with realization. “I am so sorry, I forgot, you’re those guys. I was out of town but I saw you on the news-”

“Yeah that’s us. But that doesn’t even matter, you shouldn’t be treating any of your customers like this. Do you do this to everyone? Does your manager know that? Sorry not everyone can read that crazy small print on your menu-”

You continue for a little while, and Bob takes a tiny step backwards so he can be out of your way. This is a side to you that Bob hadn’t really seen. Sure, you bicker with Walker and Ava all the time, and he’s seen how well you can fight of course, (you even had to briefly fight him that one time), but in your everyday lives, you’re always so kind and patient with him. You’re nice to people who come up to you on the street and ask for a picture, and you’re nice to strangers who are rude to you, and you’re nice to the Thunderbolts most of the time, so it’s weird for Bob to see you actually go off on someone like that… and it’s all to defend him?? Strangely, it’s one of the sweetest things someone’s done for him in a while.

“- and you’re lucky I’m speaking quietly. I could be a whole lot louder and I could make a big scene but for your sake I’ll-” but you stop talking when you hear Bob clear his throat.

“I think I know what I want to order now”

“Go ahead”, you say with a little smile as you step out of the way. Bob tells his order to the terrified young man who keeps looking at you like he’s expecting you to lunge at him.

Another barista, who doesn’t realize what just happened, recognizes the two of you and walks up to let you know that it’s all on the house. It’s hard for you and Bob to keep from giggling just a little bit.

After you get your drinks and the muffin Bob ordered, you step back outside and start walking down the street together, enjoying your food and drinks.

“Thanks. You really didn’t have to do all that. I wasn’t ready, I should’ve been ready before I got up there.”

“No, no don’t worry about that. That’s my fault, I didn’t give you any time to read the menu and figure out what you wanted. Besides, that guy was just rude. That’ll teach him to mess with the New Avengers, am I right?” and Bob chuckles quietly.

“Yeah, I don’t really know if I deserve any credit for helping save everyone when I kinda caused all of that in the first place…”

“Hey, you know that’s not your fault”, you say in a softer tone. “You didn’t do any of that on purpose”

“Yeah I know.”

A car then loudly backfires, startling both of you. Bob stops walking and grabs your hand. When he sees that it’s fine and nothing’s wrong, he’s a little embarrassed.

“Sorry I didn’t…” Bob smiles at you awkwardly and trails off. He’s about to let go when you shake your head and gently squeeze his hand. “I’m always a bit jumpy, too, don’t worry about it.”

The two of you continue walking, and you notice that he’s not letting go of your hand, now that he knows you’re fine with it. Maybe he would’ve done that a while ago if he knew you wouldn’t mind…

You walk in very comfortable silence all the way back to the tower, refusing to let go of one another’s hands. Bob feels like he can’t. Like if he let go it might never happen again. He does decide to break the silence, though.

“Y/n, I had a good time” he says as he takes another big sip of his iced coffee. “Thanks for asking me to go out with you. Well, not like go out with you but you know like, coffee and this walk and stuff”.

“Well thank you for joining me. We should do this more”, you say, smiling warmly at him. Just then, you reach the tower. Walker’s heading out, and Bucky’s right behind him. The two of you immediately let go of each other’s hands, but Walker looks at you both a little funny. “Hey guys…”

“Hey”, you say in unison, acting natural as you walk into the elevator and start to laugh a little once the doors close.

“No Bucky I swear they were holding hands. It was so weird”

“I think you’re seeing things, John”

[layla4567]

Something for you

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n doesn't know that Bob likes her, but she wonders why he acts weird when she's being nice, maybe she has a sneaky suspicion

Warnings: fluff, a little bit suggestive, ex-avenger reader (no superpowers), curse words, Bob being a shy pookie (muah), beta read, no appearance of The Void (just mention)

A/n: I haven't seen the movie yet lol, I just started playing with my imagination and what I remembered from the trailers/TV spots

It was an open secret that Bob was attracted to Y/N. A lot, to tell the truth.

Well, the only person who didn't seem to notice was Y/N herself. In the small complex where everyone now lived, they constantly watched the small interactions between her and Bob.

The little ex-avenger always, always showed herself to be extremely kind and empathetic towards Robert, but it was because she perfectly understood everything he had been through and despite the fact that everyone saw him as a powerful man with the strength of a thousand men capable of leaving the whole world in shadows, for her it wasn't like that. When y/n laid eyes on Bob she only saw someone vulnerable, someone who needed to be contained and supported, like a lonely puppy eager for love.

On the other hand, the brunette man felt a deep affection and respect for her. Y/n was the only one who was patient with him and always showed understanding. Yelena was also a great help by listening to him and not judging him, but the almost maternal warmth that Y/n radiated was incomparable. If she were metal, he would be a magnet; he couldn't help but always be close to her or follow her as if she were a planet and he were a satellite orbiting around her.

Of course, this generated some suspicion among the other members of the group. Everyone knew about Y/N's kindness, but some thought it was excessive and she was actually hiding something more. Also, Bob's attitude toward her was nothing new, but they even found it a little blatant how obvious his feelings for her were.

The memories of that mission with Bob are still fresh in everyone's minds...

..Some time ago..

After the others learned of Valentina's true plans to use Bob as a weapon, the group hatched a plan. They would rescue Bob at all costs.

They still couldn't believe they'd been tricked like that, or maybe they were; Valentina's bitch-like attitude wasn't anything new. But Y/N was the angriest and most hurt. It's not that she trusted Valentina; she wasn't that stupid, but imagining the torture they inflicted on a poor, innocent man made her blood boil.

She was always a reserved person, able to control her temper and not explode; in fact, it was rare that she get truly angry. But this time, that was one of those times; she hated injustice. The others perceived it, her calm face was wrinkled by her frown.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the laboratory where they had the brunette locked up.

He was on some kind of stretcher, he seemed asleep. Y/n approached carefully, his chest rising and falling peacefully, was he unconscious? She moved a lock of hair out of his face and he frowned, waking up in fright.

Please don't be scared, we won't hurt you, I promise, calm down" Y/n crouched down and raised her hands in surrender. He looked at her, not only was she pretty but something in her serene features told him that he could trust her. Robert aka Bob got off the stretcher and let Y/n gently guide him. She always had a hand near him, on his bicep, his wrist or his back, guiding him and giving him security and comfort, and he thanked her for it with silent glances full of affection.

As we left the building and dodged several guards, a person dressed as a chicken suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a sign ready to attack us. Bob, scared like a child, covered his head with his arms and hunched over slightly. Y/n stood in front of him, serving as a shield. The chicken-man was fighting with Bucky but suddenly seemed to turn his attention to Bob. He moaned in fear, and that's when something woke up inside the girl, an anger never seen before, a strong protective impulse to take care of that brown-haired boy who had suffered so much in life. She wouldn't let a creepy son of a bitch ruin everything.

"OH HELL NO"

Before the stranger could get any closer, Y/n gritted her teeth and, growling, landed a strong punch in the middle of his mask, which knocked the man out and left him unconscious on the floor. Robert, seeing himself out of danger, slowly and cautiously lowered his arms, watching the scene in bewilderment. His gaze wandered from the fainted man to Y/n's, a little in shock. She, afraid that he was now afraid of her, spoke to him gently and sweetly.

"Sorry about that, are you okay?"

He gulped. "Yes, thank you." She smiled in relief, and they got into the truck. Y/n sat in the back seat next to Bob, watching over him. She occasionally glanced at him until she slowly slipped her hand over his, holding it firmly. He looked at her in surprise.

"You're safe now, we won't let anything happen to you" she smiled

He nodded and blushed slightly. They both stared out the window. Bob's thoughts were now troubled, and not exactly by The Void, which seemed like a miracle. No, now he couldn't get that benevolent face that had saved him, his guardian angel, out of his mind.

..Present..

The complex was pretty quiet that time, almost everyone had left except for Yelena and Alexei and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the TV.

Bob was sitting on the couch in front of the television, his body upright and his hands in his lap, looking calm as usual. They were playing a comedy show he'd never seen before, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling at the screen from time to time.

Y/n was in the kitchen with Alexei, helping him dry the dishes. He cleared his throat and, with a smirk, said, "How are things going between you and Bob?" She looked at him a little confused "What do you mean by that?" He laughed. "Oh, nothing, you know, do you like him? He seems to like you more than the others."

Y/N blinked and stopped moving her hands over the plate. "Uhm, well, yeah, I like him. He's kind, friendly, and sweet." The girl's gaze softened when she mentioned Bob, causing Alexei to raise his eyebrows with a mischievous smile. She noticed and shook her head. "But that's all. You know I'm always nice to others, and if he approaches me, it's simply a reflex action."

"If you say so... just don't be surprised when I yell in your face: I told you so!! when you're making out and groping him," Alexei finished with a laugh.

Y/N gasped in disgust and hit him affectionately on the shoulder as she finished drying everything and headed into the living room. There she saw Bob with his back to her, focused on the TV, with only his broad shoulders and wavy brown hair sticking out of the couch. She came up behind him, touching his shoulder.

"Hey, can I sit down?"

Bob jumped and she giggled softly, then nodded several times "o-of course" She sat down next to him with a kind smile, crossing her legs comfortably. Now the boy's body was no longer relaxed as before, but very tense and rigid. He secretly glanced at the girl next to him, admiring her profile. His eyes fell on her long eyelashes, moved down to her nose, and rested for a few seconds on her lips, so soft and rosy.

Suddenly, Y/N turned her head to look at him, and he quickly looked away to the TV.

"Have you seen this show before?"

"Uh no, this is the first time" He swallowed

The minutes passed and her laughter filled the room. He smiled at times, but all his attention was on her, on her melodious, cheerful voice, or on the way her nose wrinkled in a smile. Suddenly, she leaned closer to him, and Bob's breathing quickened. The brunette boy tried to calm his nerves, but with her so close, it was difficult work. Y/n was focused on the TV, waiting to see what would happen next, unaware of Bob's reaction. At one point, she burst out laughing as she bent forward and placed a firm hand on his thigh. Bob gasped loudly, his mouth open as his face turned red, and his hands gripped the seat of the couch as if he were going to fly away. The warm sensation of her hand on his leg sent an electrifying shiver through his body, especially his lower stomach.

The former Avenger continued laughing, amused, not noticing anything until she turned to look at him and realized his hand was on his leg, and he seemed uncomfortable. "Oh shit, so sorry!" she exclaimed, embarrassed, and quickly pulled her hand away, much to Bob's relief.

"N-no worries, I-it's okay" he stuttered nervously. Then he exhaled all the air he had been holding and his body momentarily relaxed again.

Now an awkward silence settled between the two and they didn't know how to break it. Y/n felt confused and a little embarrassed for having made him feel uncomfortable although she didn't know why, when she was very close to him Bob seemed to almost reject her or appear a little indifferent, was it that he didn't like her? But if so, why did he always seem to follow her around like a dog? On the other hand, Bob felt so embarrassed and shy as to tell her the truth, but he hated to imagine that she thought he couldn't stand her and he didn't want to make her feel bad either.

Just at that moment Yelena came out of her room to go to the kitchen where Alexei was still cleaning, only to see that scene and roll her eyes. "How long are they going to keep this up, huh? I swear if they don't confess to each other right now, I'll punch them both in the face." She said to Alexei

He let out one of his characteristic laughs. "Patience kid, I'm sure something will happen today," he concluded mysteriously.

In the living room, Y/n didn't know how to make things better. Resigned, she sighed, "Fine, uhm, I think I'll go. I won't bother you anymore. Sorry."

Bob, surprised, watched her get up with puppy dog ​​eyes. Before she could completely walk away, he raised his hand and gently brushed his fingers against hers. Y/n turned to look at him, confused. "Wait, don't go... you weren't bothering me" he said shyly.

"So why do you act so weird around me?" She crossed her arms.

He stood up hesitantly, standing near her, swallowed, took a breath and sighed "uhh well, it's just that..." he didn't know how to find the courage to confess "It's just that I think I like you..."

y/n opened her eyes in surprise and he got more nervous and blushing he blurted out "Uh well actually I don't know if I like you that way, I'm not saying that you're not pretty so that he wouldn't like you!, I mean you're very beautiful and very kind to me and uh" Bob seemed to stumble over his words and she just smiled tenderly. He realized he looked like a fool so he closed his eyes and said "The only thing I know is that when I'm with you I can be myself, well, almost. You know, sometimes The Void wanders around my mind and it bothers me but when I'm with you he seems more... silent. And, and it makes me feel good, with you I feel good and it's something I haven't felt in a long time. Yeah, just that"

He finished with a nervous smile and stared at her expectantly, praying that she wouldn't run away or hate him or something. But no. She would never do that and deep down he knew it. The girl simply gave him a sincere smile, one of those that don't come so easily to others, a smile that radiated warmth and shone like the sun itself. Y/n approached him and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her back and rested his face in the hollow of her shoulder, feeling safe.

"I.. I didn't know that you felt that way for me. And I thought you were scared of me maybe" she giggled

Bob laughed softly, and she could feel his smile against her skin. He pulled away slightly. "You could never scare me, especially knowing that you don't fear me" he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Y/n smiled compassionately and placed her hands on his cheeks, giving him a kiss on the cheek very close to the corners of his lips. Bob froze, surprised, not expecting that sudden and sweet gesture. She laughed amusedly and softly asked him "May I?" looking at him with doe eyes that made his heart pound hard as if he could faint at any moment.

He nodded vigorously and she closed her eyes and placed her lips delicately on his. At first he blushed and she felt the heat of his face but then he closed his eyes and let himself go. The kiss was tender and sweet, not wanting to rush things, she didn't want to pressure him, she just wanted him to adapt to the rhythm. But quickly, as if he had wished for this a long time ago, he slowly lowered his hands to her waist, holding her firmly in place and his mouth opened to speed up the pace. When things started to heat up, she brought her hands to his hair, caressing the back of his neck while he leaned closer to her, not wanting to let her go.

Unfortunately, before they could move on to the next level, a cough and a clearing of the throat put them on alert, quickly separating and looking at the person who had interrupted them. Yelena had a serious face and her nose wrinkled slightly in a disgusted grimace.

"I swear to God, if you start doing it on the living room floor, I won't be cleaning anything up the next day. In fact, I'll make you clean up your mess."

Alexei arrived right behind the blonde laughing but then seeing Bob and Y/n far from each other his face turned into disappointment "Oh c'mon!, I missed the fun"

Y/n looked away blushing and trying to hide a smile, Bob smiling shyly asked her "so that means that I... I mean that you, feel the same way?"

She caressed his face "I thought it was already clear" and laughing she gave him another kiss on the cheek and said goodbye going to her room.

As she passed by Alexei, he shouted, "I told you!!!" She walked down the hall and simply stuck her middle finger above her head.

[rans-prettydoll]

Handyman!Toji

NOT READ OVER SO MIGHT BE SOME TYPING MISTAKES.

Handyman!Toji was just always fixing something for everyone. Known to be both attractive and a fast worker but also married. To you. Everyone thought you were so lucky to be married to the well-known handyman that everyone was always asking of and well they were right.

Handyman!Toji would barely talk to his female customers trying to flirt with him as he fixed whatever they asked of him. He would even roll his eyes and mumble under his breath. Getting the job done quickly as he held out his hand for the cash before leaving.

Handyman!Toji would come home in his worn-out black short-sleeved button-down and baggy jeans that had all types of stains on them from a long day of work. Not to mention his tool belt that also had his house keys clipped onto it and his picture of you, his wife hanging from it.

Handyman!Toji who wouldn’t dare touch you in his work clothes, there probably all different types of shit on his clothes from all the various jobs he did for the hefty sum of money he made. So he would get in the shower and then after, come and lay on top of you. His wet hair dripped onto your chest as he mumbled, “I don’ feel like drying it..ya do it, mama.” when you asked him why he didn’t dry his hair before he came to lay on you.

Handyman!Toji who ended up falling asleep just like that. Waking up in the same spot he was laying last night, on your chest in bed. He didn’t care about how his phone was blowing up or how his alarm was continuously going off. He reached over and hurled the alarm off the nightstand, breaking it before throwing his phone across the room with it. He didn’t care about any of that shit at the moment, he wanted to be with you for today, he wanted to stay with his face shoved in your plush chest and the smell of body wash that still clung to your skin.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Remmick x reader, established relationship, Fluff (maybe some NSFW)

Imagine Remmick and reader enjoying each other’s company while laying together. Soft kisses, nails lightly raking through hair, and soothing touches.

Perhaps teasingly reader lightly bites Remmick’s neck, since he always does this to reader they wanted some payback. Might or might not have known that it would rile him up.

(Would love to see some feral softness from Remmick if that makes sense lol)

Gender neutral pronouns please :)!

Have a great day/night!

P.s glad to see my request/asks are enjoyed! Love your work :D

Drunk on you||Remmick x GN!reader

Summary— reader and Remmick are obsessed with each other.

Word count-1180

Warnings-Explicit sexual content Mutual masturbation (gender neutral reader x male character) Bloodplay-adjacent themes (post-feeding cleanup, references to blood) Vampirism (turned!vampire reader) Established relationship Oral teasing and heavy kissing Soft domination tones (gentle aftercare, power dynamics rooted in emotional trust)Reader is described with fem anatomy Semi-public setting (clearing in the woods, but secluded)

A/n — this can be read as male,female and gender neutral.

A/n#2– oh yes anon I love it when you’re in my inbox!!!

The forest still thrummed faintly with the echoes of the hunt moonlight threading through the trees, the air rich with the scent of blood and pine. The adrenaline had faded, but a different kind of hunger lingered in its wake.

You leaned against a moss-covered boulder, cheeks flushed, laughter bubbling out of you in lazy bursts. The blood was still tacky at the corner of your mouth, but you didn’t care. You felt wild. Sated. In love.

Remmick watched you from a few paces away, one hand braced on his hip, the other dragging a cloth slowly over his jaw. There was something dangerous and stupidly tender in the way he looked at you like he still couldn’t quite believe you were his. Like the sight of you drunk on blood and moonlight knocked the wind out of him.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” you teased, eyes half-lidded as you sauntered toward him, hips swaying lazily.

“You’re glowing,” he murmured. “Like you just remembered how much you love chaos.”

You laughed and slipped your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. “No, not chaos. Just you.”

His breath caught as your lips brushed against his blood-slick and soft and your body pressed flush to his. “You made me. Isn’t that the same thing?”

He chuckled under his breath but didn’t let go, his hands settling on your waist. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Drunk,” you corrected with a sleepy smile. “On you.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, tongue slipping against his with a faint metallic tang still lingering. He groaned into it, fingers tightening just enough to make you whimper.

Eventually, he pulled back. “Come here,” he said softly, guiding you to the old blanket spread near the fire he’d built. “You’re still a mess.”

You sat down without protest, your body humming, eyes glassy and soft. Remmick knelt in front of you with the cloth again, warm now with water from his flask.

His touch was almost reverent as he cleaned your blood from your jaw, your collarbone, the smear on your neck. You watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face.

“You always do this,” you murmured. “Clean me up like I’m something precious.”

“Because you are,” he said simply, voice rough. “Because I remember what it was like right after I turned you. You were fire. You were fury. I didn’t know if I’d get you back.”

You cupped his face gently, thumb tracing over his lips. “But you did. I came back. I chose you.”

He kissed your palm, then your wrist, slow and deliberate.

The tension shifted between you then not urgent, not frenzied. Just heat and safety, blooming slow and low.

You pushed him gently back until he was sitting against the base of a tree, and you crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. The kiss that followed was softer, your fingers threading into his hair, hips rocking forward just enough to make you both gasp.

“Touch yourself,” you whispered against his mouth. “Wanna watch you.”

His eyes darkened. “Only if you do too.”

You nodded, lips parted as you reached between your legs, hiking your skirt just enough to slip your hand beneath. He did the same, dragging his belt loose with a soft groan, pants undone just far enough for his cock to spring free already hard, leaking at the tip.

You both moved slowly at first, hands buried beneath fabric, matching pace and rhythm. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the fire crackling nearby, the trees your only witnesses.

Watching each other, teasing touches, shared gasps there was something sacred in the act, something unspoken and deeply yours. His eyes never left yours as you rubbed lazy, wet circles over your clit, back arching, while his fist tightened around himself, hips stuttering.

You leaned your forehead to his, breath ragged. “Love you. So much it hurts.”

His other hand gripped your waist, steadying you as he groaned your name. “You’re mine,” he rasped. “Always.”

You both came within seconds of each other soft cries swallowed in kisses, bodies trembling, breaths shallow and fast.

Afterward, you stayed curled up in his lap, limbs tangled, your cheek against his shoulder, fingers tracing lazy shapes over his chest.

“You gonna clean me up again?” you mumbled, half-asleep.

He huffed a laugh, already reaching for the cloth again. “Yeah, sweetheart. Always.”

[manicmanuscription]

Hi there! I have a request for a ff if you’re still taking suggestions. I would love to read a ff of Azriel x Mate!reader and they decide to keep their relationship private from the IC, (Maybe because of the whole Elain situation, I’ll leave it up to you!)and maybe they have a little baby aswell! And the IC end up finding out and want to get to know Azriel’s family. Sorry if this is so bad, feel free to ignore if you hate the request xx

Weight

A/N: Hi Love! I'm so fucking sorry for how long this request took me to get too! I genuinely love it but it took me forever to decide which direction to go in I swear I rewrote it like four times so I hope you like the version I ended up with! Thank you for request <3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 1584

Warnings/Tags: Angst, IC Fighting, Rhysand lowkey painted as bad guy (but it's only for plot don't come after me that's my husband.) Happy/Hopeful Ending

Summary: Azriel has hidden his daughter and mate from his family but an accidental run in in Velaris ruins it all.

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

The door to my shared bedroom with my mate opened with a soft click. Yet I knew he was coming the second he set foot in our home. The spymaster himself purposefully made his footsteps loud enough for me to not be startled and yet not too loud in case I was resting. 

I had been sleeping a lot during this pregnancy. The physical aspect of carrying our second born is much harder than carrying our first, and I was barely pregnant. I forced my eyes open in the dim room, wanting to lay my sight on the male that had captured my heart entirely no matter how tired I was. 

Azriel smiled softly when his gaze met mine and he quickly and quietly put his coat away before sliding under the massive amount of blankets I was buried under. “Hi.” I murmured my voice raspy from sleep as Azriel adjusted us so that I was halfway laying on his chest, one of my legs thrown around his and the slight baby bump barely poking him in the stomach. His hand's immediately finding my belly and resting there.

“Hi.” He whispered back and I immediately tilted my head to look up at him at the slight shift in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concern layering my tone. 

Azriel just huffed a sad laugh under his breath as he gave me a rare smile. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “My observant little mate, you know me so well. Did I wake you?”

“No you didn’t. Azriel, tell me what’s wrong?” I panicked pushing myself up further so I could look at him properly. Something was…off about him. From the exhausted way he carried himself to bed, the way he had tugged me impossibly close and breathed me in as if it was his last time. 

I knew he had spent the whole day with our daughter before dropping her off at my sister’s for a sleepover so I could have a peaceful night but the way he was acting- especially after the hurt I’d felt from him early in the day only to have him shut me out-

“Nothing’s wrong my love, everyone’s safe and ok.” Azriel assured me, repeating the words over and over again until my breathing evened and he placed a comforting kiss on the inside of my wrist before holding my hands close to his chest and pushing me to lay back down all cozied up next to him. These hormones were going to kill me.

“Ayanna and I ran into my family this evening.” Azriel started and my chest cracked open. No wonder he was so sad. Azriel loved and cared about his family deeply but ever since we’d met he’d taken extra care to make sure I stayed hidden from his family.

Rhysand had used Azriel’s own loyalty and respect towards him to make him leave the middle Acheron sister alone and it had completely broken him. It had only cemented the self doubt running rampant through his mind. Adding another layer to his hardened and yet sensitive heart. 

It had shattered the new couple before it even started and Azriel had vowed to keep his High Lord’s orders to himself despite the devastation it caused to himself and Elain. Elain was almost as good as my mate in hiding her emotions but not nearly enough and Azriel had cursed himself even further. Because in his mind he was the monster that had crushed the innocent girl in his brutally bloody hands. 

I had worked a lot with Azriel over his insecurities and self doubt. The male had barely even touched me when we first met, terrified he would scar another beautiful thing but I had coaxed him out of his shell and his family was something I could never really talk to him about, he shut down and went to a dark space that took days to get him out of. 

In reality Azriel was terrified you’d be taken away from him, ordered halfway across the continent, just one day waking up and you and your beautiful daughter would just be gone? And there was a chance it could’ve been Rhysand’s fault? Or his own?

He loved his family, he loved his brother’s with every fiber of his being. But in the end his terror won, old wounds speaking louder than logic because he couldn’t handle it if there was even the slightest possibility Rhysand made the only good thing disappear from his life, because Gods he wouldn’t survive it and the world around him would shatter under his wrath. 

I traced my fingertips underneath Azriel’s shirt, trailing soothing touches down those muscled abs until he came back to me. Clearly stuck in his own head. “How’d it go?” I asked. 

“Horrible.” His voice cracked and my heart ached at the sound, mating bond screaming at me to do something other than just snuggle in bed. But I knew Azriel just as well as he knew me, instead of pressing him for more information I placed a gentle kiss on the juncture of his throat as he stared at the ceiling. He’d talk when he was ready.

A few minutes passed by until I heard the pain in his deep voice echo around the room again. “They were…angry. At me once they figured out Ayanna was my daughter. They were hurt and asking me why I didn’t tell them-” He paused, swallowing. “The look on Cassian and Rhysand’s faces-” 

A few tears rolled down his cheek. The only other time I’ve seen the Shadowsinger cry was at our mating ceremony and the birth of our daughter. I brushed them away with the pads of my thumbs as he continued. 

“I just couldn’t take it anymore. The betrayal on every single one of their faces. Ayanna was just confused of course, tugging on my shirt and hiding away. The shadows hid her from view and it only worsened the situation. Cassian accused me of not trusting him. I just felt so…ambushed so I let down my shields and threw everything I’d been feeling at Rhysand and Feyre.”

“I didn’t even stick around to hear the aftermath. Just went to the park for a few hours with Aya to cool down.”

“Nesta found you?” I presumed. The Lady of Death having grown quite close to my mate in the House of Wind. He nodded, continuing the rest of the story. Apparently Feyre had shared the information with the family and had promptly yelled at her mate for a few hours. 

They’d all been hurt and angry at Azriel, at each other, and at Rhysand. Cassian and Mor having been the most bent out of shape, stinging even worse with how close they were.

I offered to talk more about it even as my eyelids were unwillingly drooping lower and lower. He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a strong kiss before he ushered me back to sleep once again. 

——————————————

A soft knock echoed throughout the house and I left the tea table,, leaving Azriel to enjoy the outrageously sweet tea my daughter had made, she obviously got her sweet tooth from him. 

“I’m assuming your Cassian and Mor.” I said by way of greeting as soon as I pulled the heavy oak door open. I knew the Inner Circle would come crawling out of the cracks after a few days and it warmed my heart to see and meet some of Azriel’s closest friends. 

“And you’re my brother’s mate.” Cassian breathed out, Mor still finding her words next to him. “The one and only.” I joked with a small hand flourish that did nothing to defuse the tense air suffocating us. Grief etched into the fae’s very faces. “Can we come in?” Morrigan asked clearing her throat. 

“Are you here to fight with him?” I questioned in return. A wince crossed over Cassian’s pained face. “Gods no, we just- we want to talk.”

I smiled softly, it was time for my mate to reunite with his family, to fully be present with them and stop hiding behind his indifferent facade. “He’s playing with Aya in the kitchen.” 

Cassian practically rushed inside as soon as I opened the door wider, the male wearing his heart on his sleeve and I could see how much this entire ordeal affected him. Mor stepped in the threshold with more caution, taking a deep breath as she faced me.

“Rhysand and Feyre would’ve come you know but-”

“But if you bombard Azriel then he’ll shut down and pull away?” she chuckled half-heartedly, sparing a longing glance in the direction Cassian had gone. “Sounds like Az.”

“He didn’t want this to happen, none of us did.” She whispered softly. I knew she was talking about the High Lord and I nodded in understanding even though Rhysand and I would definitely be hashing it out later. “I know.”

Mor took a steadying breath and walked by, allowing me to finally shut the front door. Before she rounded the kitchen she turned to me once again. Pulling a brand new plush teddy bear out of whatever pocket realm she kept it in. “For Ayanna. Whenever you and Azriel are ready for us to meet her.” 

I smiled, taking the gift and following the blonde into the kitchen, I knew without words that Azriel didn’t want to properly introduce our daughter until everything was resolved with his family despite the accidental meeting yesterday and I gave the fae’s their space. He’d already sent the three year old upstairs and I gave Azriel a quick kiss on the cheek before making my way up there as well. 

[passionwillow]

I’m here to beggggg you for more obsessive! Jack 😫. The thought of this man being insanely protective over you just does something to me. He needs to have your location, know who you’re going to hang out with (if he even lets you go by yourself), measures how short your dress is with his fingers, and makes it known that you’re his & he’s yours so there’s no chance anybody can think the opposite. He raises your standards so high to the point there’s no chance you’ll find better. He cares for you so much that you wonder how you even survived before meeting him, how you even survived without his love. He mesmerizes every little thing about you, he knows when you’re overwhelmed, knows how you like your coffee, knows your dinner favorites

Possessive Jack is a necessity. 😩 I finished season 5 of YOU so I may be taking some ideas from there.. PLEASE don't actually let a man treat you this way, this is just fiction and for fun.

Jack made sure he had your location months ago. He swore it was just so he could make sure you got home safe, but he's always checking where you are. Out with friends? At that bar? It's a sketchy area, just making sure you're safe.

He isn't a fan of most of your friends (especially the guy ones). "Who are you going out with? I'll come along, babe. No, it's okay. I wanna make sure you're safe."

He hates when you wear short skirts or low cut tops out. "Showing off what's mine, baby? I don't think so. Go put on those jeans I bought you. That's a good girl."

Always marking you. Even when it can't be seen. Hickies on your neck, his teeth and lips bruising your sensitive skin as you squirm and moan, his hands keeping you pinned to the wall. Hand prints on your ass, smirking as you cry and moan with each smack. "That's a good girl, look at that. All fucking mine."

But he takes such good care of you, it makes him being overbearing so worth it. He can read you like a billboard. You're in a good mood, you're upset, you're stressed, you're mad, you're horny. He can take one look at you when you wake up and know.

He knows everything about you, down to your coffee order. How you like your showers, your dinner, your drinks. How you play with the pages of your books when you read, that sore spot on your shoulder you always need rubbed out. That little squeal you make when he pinches your clit, how you go breathless when he curls his fingers just right.

You're stressed about work? Sit down and talk to him, he's waiting with open arms to help you. You had a good day? Sit down. He already has dinner ready and can't wait to hear. You're stressed out? Sit and let him hold you, he'll give you some advice.

He doesn't try to be a sugar daddy, but sometimes he may as well be. Any money troubles? Let him take care of it. Matter of face, just give him your bills. He'll take care of everything for you. He doesn't want you worrying your pretty little head over it.

He's your biggest supporter, always pushing you to be better and try new things. Wanna go back to school? Tell him where, he'll make sure it's covered. Wanna learn something new, an instrument or new line of work? You'd be amazing no matter what you do.

No one could ever love you better, take better care of you, support you more, be more loving and protective. He's all you need. ❤️

[asoftsighh]

°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ joel miller x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

joel helps you when you struggle to fall asleep

856 words

By the next time you shifted in bed, you were sure that sleep was far, far away. It wasn’t like you could move much, with the large man attached to your back, both arm and leg bracketing you into place. You still tried, as best as you could, squirming underneath his heavy arm. You must let out some sort of noise, a sigh or a groan, if you were to guess, because now Joel is the one shifting. You feel his arm tense, his hand tightening where it’s spread out against your stomach. Almost as if he’s making sure you’re still here, still safe. “Mmph -you doin’?” A low, muffled voice asks against the back of your neck , his warm breath sending a tickle down your spine. 

“Sorry,” you say quietly in return, swearing in your mind. Those decades of always being on high alert made it harder to keep things from Joel. Not that you want to lie to him, you just don’t want to see that thing he does with his brows, where a divot forms whenever he’s stressed or confused. Or see any more gray hairs that are already sprinkled throughout his temples. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He inhales, whether sighing inwardly or smelling you, you’re unsure. “You okay?” He asks now, his voice less muffled as you feel him lean deeper into his pillow, rather than your back. His movement takes you with him, and your body follows, now laying on your back. 

Your eyes move from the dark ceiling to the other side of the bed. Using the moonlight as a light source, you could just make out the browns of his eyes, that small frown on his lips. He truly was the most handsome man you’ve ever met, despite the years of killing and fighting, of experiencing loss over and over again. The indent at the bridge of his nose is visible, too, the one from his reading glasses (ones that you think make him look hot, despite his grumblings.) You must take too long to answer, because his squinting takes you out of your reverie.

You place a placating hand over his chest, his worn t-shirt soft beneath your palm. “I’m fine,” you say softly with a smile you hope is convincing. It must not, because, still under his stare, you add, “I just can’t sleep.”

He watches you for a moment, something you’ve learned over the years that means he’s trying to figure out whether you’re lying or not. He must come to some conclusion, because he flattens on his back, bringing his arm up and over your head. The way you move toward him is like two magnets, their positive and negative ends coming together with a pull nothing can resist. Your head settles above his collarbone gently, similar to the way his hand settles on your back. His fingers are spread wide, his palm warm enough to feel through your shirt.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” His breath is warm against your hairline, tickling the baby hairs there. He presses his lips in the same spot shortly after, too long to be casual.

You inhale deeply. His smell has always reminded you of the woods, like cedar. Woody, fresh, a little spicy. You sigh now, softly, like you’re not sure what to do with yourself. “Just can’t shut my mind off. Not very tired.” His responding hum is unconvincing. 

You’d be lying if you said you couldn’t already feel the dredges of sleep sneak into your mind. His hand on your back, moving up and down, up and down, was relaxing. Like a boat bobbing on a wave, or the feel of someone else’s deep breaths. What made it even more soothing, however, was the man behind the movement.

His voice is low and gruff when he speaks next, which must be a couple minutes after the last time. “Y’know, Sarah used to have a real hard time falling asleep. Must’ve been when she was.. 6 or 7 maybe.”

Your head perks up (not by much) in curiosity. “Really?”

If his face wasn’t buried in your hair, you’d still be able to hear, rather than feel, his smile. “Oh yeah. Would crawl into my bed, all pouty. She’d demand that I either braid her hair or give her some warm milk.” As he talks, his free hand crawls up the side of your neck, his thumb drawing the line of your jaw. With each touch, every rumbling in his chest as he talks, you fall closer and closer to the darkness of sleep. 

“And did you?” Your voice is groggy already. “Give her those things.”

His laugh is an exhale against your forehead. “Every damn time. Spoiled little brat.” There’s zero ounce of meanness in his voice, which sounds more like a mixture between grief and nostalgia. 

You must respond, because he says something back to you. The wisps of exhaustion cloud your mind, and you let yourself be pulled under; to the rocking of a boat, to the deep breaths of a man, to the back and forth of a warm hand. 

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[luvingjeanie]

streamerboyfriend!yuji

non-sorcerer!au, yuji is not a vessel, he’s just a goofy guy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

streamerboyfriend!yuji who began streaming as a silly little past time, and jumped up at his first donation, urging people to NOT send him money because he felt bad

‘nonono, wait, can i send this back?!’

‘i mean thank you so much but i don’t want you guys to send me money pls i don’t need it :(‘

‘babe they’ve started sending me money i feel bad!’ to you after he’s finished his most watched stream yet, brown eyes all soft and wide as he whined to you about how sweet his fans are!!

streamerboyfriend!yuji who looks confused after checking his analytics for the first time after he gradually got bigger, realising that like, nearly 80% of his viewers are female.

not that he minds, he just doesn’t know why it’s such an insane amount of teenage girls watching him

‘oooo’ *slowly nods* when you tell him it’s because they find him cute

streamerboyfriend!yuji who is always a little too loud and excitable when interacting with chat, a lazy, boyish grin crinkling his eyes as he laughed unabashedly at the jokes made by his fans, calling you over to read what had been said so you could laugh together.

streamerboyfriend!yuji nearly screaming at a jumpscare in some indie horror game his chat DEMANDED he play, but he clamped his hand over his mouth last minute because you were sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake you

streamerboyfriend!yuji doing extra long charity streams, which is the only time he’s truly comfortable with people sending him money.

to get extra money donated for the charity he lets his chat suggest stupid challenges when they donate.

one of them was pouring a full packet of the buldak ramen hot sauce in his mouth, he accidentally rubbed his eyes after and he screamed SO loud you thought he got shot or something

it got clipped and somehow became a viral tik tok sound. it kills him to this day

streamerboyfriend!yuji who grinned so so so wide and cute the first time you came on stream, it was an accident. you just went into his streaming/gaming room to ask him something and his chat went FUCKING crazy!

‘oh!!! this is my girlfriend y/n!!!’

‘babe say hi!’

streamerboyfriend!yuji who doesn’t always do gaming streams, and sometimes just does chill reaction streams, or you laugh you lose ones with his friends.

the viewers send in the videos, and he always cackles over fucking everything. bro ALWAYS loses

one viewer managed to find an old musical.ly of his from when he was like twelve and he just gawked then hid his face in his hands. genuinely nearly had a nervous breakdown he was so embarrassed

streamerboyfriend!yuji who eventually convinces you to come on stream sometime for silly little those reaction streams or to play cute couples games like it takes two

these streams always get clipped and people make those cutsey little edits on tik tok

he saw one edit that used ‘love me not’ by ravyn lenae and reposted that shit IMMEDIATELY and then showed it to you

streamerboyfriend!yuji who softens up on the streams he does with you. he’ll poke fun and joke with anyone he streams with BUT you. bro is just a sap. he lets you make fun of him but won’t say anything back, he’ll just giggle and nod his head, agreeing

will remove an eyelash from your face and gets you to make a wish, or fixes your hair when it gets messy from the spare headset he has for you

his chat calls him whipped but also, as you can guess, clips these moments and uses them in their edits😭

[anyshowwitharainbow]

hii, i saw ur requests are open. may i request agathario x reader where reader had a subdrop? reader feeling overwhelmed and anxious from a long night of activities, always curious how they would help reader 🫣

I hope this is what you were after 🥺 I may make some edits when I wake up and re-read, but here you are!! Enjoy!

Warnings + Tags: 18+ for NSFW themes MDNI, fluff, post-sex, subdrop, mentions of squirting, caring Agatha and Rio, sub reader, mommy!Agatha, daddy!Rio, cg/l themes, no mention of pronouns, pet names Words: ~2.3k

You aren’t sure when the weight sitting in your chest anchored itself to your spine. You could be convinced an alien just drop kicked you back down to Earth. Moments you know are no further from you than a few breaths feel fuzzy and you try desperately to grip them and root them back into reality.

When you reach for them they part like they are made of nothing but fog and dust. Each attempt at clutching them closer smudges their edges and blurs the memory they hold. You feel too scared to keep trying, lest they become damaged beyond repair.

There are glimpses of bliss, you still feel the buzz from a haughty assuredness that has since frozen in your bones. The warmth of a carefully woven safety net fades into a cool, shadowy abyss and you feel foreign in your own body.

Did you do something wrong?

Should you have done something differently?

Do you still have a purpose in the space you suddenly feel intrusive in occupying?

Were you welcome here in the first place?

The thrumming echo of competing thoughts swells against your skull and you’re paralyzed between fight or flight. You’re not sure if you truly have an option. If you sit still enough for long enough you could petrify into something unobtrusive. You might be more useful as decor, anyways.

What would it be like? To forever be a fly on the wall? Aware of who people are when no one is watching- but never aware of yourself?

Your body is rocked by a confident presence flopping down unceremoniously to your left.

“Jesus, I’m fucking thirsty,” Agatha heaves, panting and grimacing when her hands land on her skin.

She is thinly layered in a sheen of sweat and you assume her soft, disgruntled ‘hmm’ is the sound effect from taking a mental note to wash the sheets tomorrow.

The ballooning in your head is harshly popped and awareness hits you like a freight train, horn blaring as it crashes into you.

The sheets are cold beneath you and your own sweat makes you shiver. The movement jostles you and you recoil away from the pool of your wetness you sat in. Hazy memories crystalize in sudden clarity and you blanche- frozen aside from the burning of your cheeks.

You made a mess. In the moment, your body had stolen your autonomy… It felt so good when Rio tickled depths in you that had never been reached… Sure, squirting everywhere was probably hot for the five seconds while it was happening.

Now, its an inconvenience. Agatha and Rio don’t want to sleep in Lake Superior.

You begin to buzz with panic, highly aware that you need to appear casual. Unbothered. If you take up more space, more energy, they may tire of you.

Don’t be fucking stupid.

They won’t just suddenly cast you aside. They’ve had years to get rid of you. If they were going to toss you aside they would’ve done it by now.

It’s the truth. They’ve loved you for so many years. You’ve shared so much time. Enough time for them to grow bored of your insecurities. Who wants to have sex with someone who makes it weird afterwards?

No, that’s dumb. Everything is clearly fine.

You assert this truth over yourself for a moment. It is true…right?

Hesitantly, you let yourself feel proud. It’s not everyday you single-handedly talk yourself off the ledge.

Probably best not to test their patience, though.

You need to do something to make yourself useful. Something is begging to be fixed. You aren’t quite sure what, but you know that the consequence of not doing it is losing Agatha and Rio’s love and affection.

“I’ll wash the sheets!” you declare in an effort to avoid letting yourself wonder if you ever truly had it all.

Hastily, you clamber to rise from the bed. Your limbs are jelly and you aren’t prepared for the lack of help your body offers. Your flailing to gain enough momentum to hoist yourself up is cut short by Agatha pulling you back down.

“Don’t be silly, bunny. It can wait.” Agatha tries to nuzzle into you as she pulls the covers over you both, but you’re fidgeting uncomfortably and she looks at you with concern.

It looks as though she wants to say something more, but she doesn’t. Her eyes are scanning your face and you feel her reading your features, assessing what may be wrong.

After a moment, her eyes flick to Rio’s. You follow her gaze and see that Rio has returned to the room with a bag of wet wipes and a hand towel. Big brown eyes, swimming in concern seem to be in conversation with Agatha’s. When Rio focuses her attention on you, you are entranced by how easily she calls your full focus. She cautiously, but surely approaches.

“Can I help you sit up, bunny?” She casually offers, concern no longer as evident as it was moments ago.

You consider fussing at the ask, but her presence is so unassuming that you feel compelled to allow her request. You nod, happy with your decision when you are given a proud smile.

“Perfect. I wanted to come clean you up and I was hoping I could squeeze in behind you.” She looks towards Agatha, “That is, if Mommy agrees to release you.”

Agatha’s hold on you tightens and she drawls out a long hum of indecision.

“I suppose I can share our little bunny’s snuggles.” Agatha concedes, “On one condition.”

She coyly poses the bargain and your curiosity begins to chip away at your stoicism. You look to Rio and she only raises her brows and shrugs. Turning back to Agatha, your curiosity peaks when she matches Rio’s shrug.

“What?” you prod.

“You have to be good for Daddy while I go get us something to drink.” She presses a kiss to your temple and gives you time to consider her terms.

You don’t want Agatha to go, but you feel like it’d be ridiculous to ask her to stay. She’ll only be gone for a few minutes. And you actually are quite thirsty…

You un-scrunch your face and look to her, nodding your head. Surprise is overshadowed by relief when she doesn’t ask you to use your words. Warm contentedness pulls at the anchor that weighs you down.

“The kitchen is serving water- still or sparkling- and a selection of our finest imported juices- pouched or boxed. What will it be, my loves?”

Before you can begin to ponder your choices, Rio is assessing her own.

“Do we have the green boxes or the yellow ones?”

“We have both, but our head juice expert keeps the yellow boxes chilled at the request of our most esteemed patron.”

You didn’t know there was juice in the fridge…

“Purple?” you ask and they both look to you.

You hear Rio chuckle and you can tell by the twinkle in Agatha’s eye that she is beaming with pride. The remaining weight nestled into your chest begins to levitate away from you.

“Of course, bunny. Mommy knows grape is your favorite.” Her subtle coo turns the last of the weight to dust and blows it away. “One purple coming up. What will Daddy be having this evening?”

Rio purses her lips in indecision, brows furrowed in thought before she groans.

“I can’t decide, bunny. What do you think?”

You can’t help the smile that creeps over your features. You bite your lip and take the task of deciding seriously.

“Purple!” You decide easily.

“Purple it is!” Rio matches your enthusiasm.

“Did you pick purple so you and Daddy could match, baby?”

You give a shy nod, uncertainty threatening to pick at your comfort.

“Can Mommy have a purple so she can match too?” Agatha strokes your cheek and excitement takes the place of the previously looming uncertainty.

You nod again and swallow your whine when Agatha untangles from you and stands up.

“Three purples it is. Be good for Daddy, bun. I’ll be right back.”

Before she leaves, she grabs the hand towel from Rio. Once you are alone, Rio’s attention is firmly locked onto you. She sets the wet wipes next to you and helps pull you up. Settling in behind you, you melt into the warmth of her skin.

Her breasts are soft against your back, nipples playfully poking against you.

“Come here, mi corazoncito,” she whispers, humming in satisfaction when you soften into putty in her hands. “Do you want to talk about where you went? After we finished?”

You swallow hard but don’t have the chance wander from the safety you’re surrounded in as she slowly rubs her hands up and down your arms.

“You don’t have to, but I’m here if you want to. No matter what it is or how mean your thoughts might be Daddy’s always here to listen. You know that, yes?”

Upon your nod of affirmation, you are further unwound by her murmur of approval. She hums in the comfortable silence that’s fallen over you, swaying you gently. She isn’t waiting for you to say something, content to share this moment with you however you’d like to spend it.

“I don’t want you all to get tired of me…” You hesitantly offer.

She gives your statement room to breathe, careful with how her reaction and response will meet you.

“That sounds like a scary thought, bunny. Is there something you think we’d get tired of?”

Her question isn’t accusatory and you feel welcome to ponder it truly. You chew at your lip before you decide you’ve come up with the right words.

“I don’t know… I know I need a lot sexually and emotionally. I made a gigantic mess and I guess I just thought maybe you all wished I was less… I’m not sure. Just ‘less’ in general I guess. Then I think I wanted reassurance but that made me feel like ‘more’ instead of ‘less’. So I figured if I made myself useful it would level things out… It made more sense in my head.”

“Can I give you that reassurance now?” With your permission, she continues. “We need you in all of the same ways, bunny. You and Agatha are everything to me. You are never a burden. Everything I give, or Agatha gives, we give freely. You are endlessly lovable, sexy, and perfect in every way. And you didn’t make a mess. I proudly claim full responsibility for you soaking the sheets. Give credit where its due.”

You snort at her playful cockiness and she joins you in soft laughter.

“We love you so much, bunny.” She soothes lowly, her breath tickling your ear and freckling your skin with goosebumps.

“I know.” Your response is met with a tight squeeze. “I love you too.”

You both settle into the comfortable warmth of each other’s company before she shifts to reach for something.

“Can you be good for Daddy, sweetheart? I need to clean you up now.”

You hear the packet of wet wipes crinkle and shyness creeps over you.

“Shh… It’s okay.” Her left hand gently rubs the center of your chest and she holds the wet wipe held in the other against her own skin. “See?”

She lazily pats at your thighs with the wipe to get you used to the temperature and texture before bringing it to your center and wiping you clean.

“All done.” She whispers before a soft kiss tickles the shell of your ear.

“Can you promise me something?” She continues when you offer a soft ‘mmhmm’. “If your thoughts ever start to get mean or scary you’ll let Daddy or Mommy know, hmm? Even if you don’t have words to describe them or what you need promise me you’ll let us try and help.”

You ponder this. Not because you are uncertain of your answer, but because you want her to know how certainly committed you are to meeting her request.

“I promise.”

She quirks her brow and you understand before she needs to further coax you into what she wants to hear.

“I promise I’ll let you and Mommy know if I ever feel overwhelmed or if my thoughts get scary.”

“So good for Daddy, bunny. Thank you.” Rio squeezes you as tight as she can you you’re certain you could pop when Agatha’s voice loosens her grip.

“Promise Mommy too, bunny.”

You comply, trying your best not to make eye contact with the juice boxes tucked in her arm. She thanks you by inserting the attached straw into a juice box and offering it to you.

“Thank you, Mommy.” You make a show of your manners, hoping for praise.

“So polite, bunny. Mommy is proud of you for being brave and talking to Daddy.”

Her voice soothes an ache deep inside you that you hadn’t realized lingered. You notice the hand towel she left with is now damp and a few shades darker.

“Can you be good one more time and open up?” She taps at your legs and you let them fall open.

Your grumble at the cool air hitting your still-cold center is quickly replaced by an appreciative sigh. The cloth she pets your core with is warm and the noises you make are nothing short of purrs of delight.

You spend the rest of the night a tangle of limbs and laughter. The soft kisses the three of you share taste of grape juice and the promise of a lifetime and any that follow. Though your thoughts will ebb and flow, your best efforts occasionally thwarted by doubts, the truth of your life is nestled deeply within every fiber of your being.

You are safe. You are loved. You will be cherished forevermore.

*---*

Looking for more? -> AO3 | My Fics

[hcneymooners]

✸ TRITWWISIYTSTICS ⤷ chapter i. i feel i could right you.

(read on ao3.)

synopsis: here. cw: mentions of death and grief, implied animal death, mentions of injury, azzi's lack of self-preservation.

notes: please let me know what you think. my cycle started and i feel evil and tired, so i would love to know anything you would like to tell me. my inbox is always open, and i love you.

azzi wished people would stop dying, if only to get a moment to herself. as soon as thought left her, she felt swollen with its rot. 

it was just so easy to get exhausted now. she was so tired of lying: about how many supplies they had left, about how well-versed she was in her tasks, about how lonely she wasn’t. the worst were the ones who hurt themselves on purpose, who bled so that they had something in this mess to understand. she wanted to cup her hands around their jaw and bear down until there was a creak and a whimper of pain and tell them, “stop trying to die. this isn’t something you should want. stop trying to die. i’ve been spending months trying to bring back my family, to make them alive again.”

but she didn’t. she was just less careful with their ivs.

she was tired of waking early in the morning when the mists were thick and warping for a single moment of peace. despite the (dis)quiet of the house, she found that she still felt haunted in that wide, open space. she tried her hardest not to look at the locked room to her left when she exited her own, or the picture with the room’s key next to it. 

the country had only taken six days to collapse, though it spent years building up to the days she lived in now. she remembered the first plane that had been shot down just a few state lines over from where it had fled its own airport. there had been several planes butchered in the same manner, several crashes ablaze with flame, blood, and bone. azzi specifically recalled this one, not because it was the first, but because her entire family had been inside of it. 

she couldn’t remember how she’d managed to save her own life. she had been reluctant to go on the trip, had felt something immovable in her chest whenever her parents spoke of her coming. so, she stayed. she had stayed with inês in the stomach of her old home, their backs pressed together in her queen-sized bed. and then, she had only inês. inês like a sister. inês like her child. 

then inês had died, too, and left azzi to weep and wake on her own. 

azzi felt the top of her head ache at the root, the spot where she’d once torn out her hair in grief, still raw in spirit. she ignored it and grabbed the basket atop her counter as she made her way to the garden. she wasn’t hungry herself, but the soil gave her something to do that wasn’t destructive, self- or otherwise. 

when she walked outside, rain lightly lashed the side of her face, and she could see the swell of the clouds, their bellies dark grey and awkwardly ridged. she only turned to the side to slip off the wide-brimmed wicker hat she’d taken from a returning scout, and set it atop her curls to keep her vision clear. 

her outfit was slightly impractical: a long, cotton skirt the color of cow cream and a large grey woolen sweater that had belonged to inês’s father. she’d almost burned it after she’d buried the girl, so irrational with her grief, but had saved it in the end. now, it kept her warm, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel inês with her thin body and buttery, brown hair breathing warm and close against her neck. 

the skirt was bound to get dirty, but azzi didn’t mind whatsoever. this was the cost of sustaining herself. this was her proof of work, of living. her mother would’ve hated her for dirtying it. the thought made her mouth twist uncomfortably into an upward shape that could’ve been called a smile.

she bent slowly, her bones shuddering under the motion, and began to dig her fingers into the soil. she tucked the oiled fat of her fingertips underneath the small rocks and wiggling worms. it was still damp from yesterday’s storm, and it clung to her skin like it couldn’t bear to be parted from her. 

the carrots were late this year, she noted, and the herbs too sparse. but something in the dirt always came through. azzi had learned to trust that. she had to. it was a relief to be able to grow, to be able to avoid the commune’s large mess hall with its horrible silence and relentless, dull pressure.

the edge of the property was far beyond the line of trees, where the hills folded into one another like unmade beds. azzi always gardened with her back to the view, with her face bent toward the home she lived in. she’d never built a gate, despite inês’s nagging. you can’t just let the world walk in, she used to say. 

but azzi believed in openness. in letting things pass through. she borrowed from the land and thought, maybe, if she let it breathe, it would never take more than she could give. she borrows so much from the world—soil, rain, death, survival—and on some level, she knew it would ache to borrow back. the land remained porous because she was.

so there was no gate. no fence. nothing to keep the world out, or her in.

besides, she liked looking at their house. it was a rather large cabin, built and abandoned by a louisana-native who had been an architect before the floods swallowed his homeland. it pulled high into an a-frame, but spots of the south decorated it like sugar spots on a banana peel. 

the porch was vast and encircled the waist of the house like lovers’ arms, four thick columns split into two on either side of the wide wooden stairs. there was a balcony just outside the circular window that birthmarked the roof, but the glass couldn’t open, so it was more for the outside view. that was azzi’s room. 

since there was no gate and no one here, azzi liked to watch over where she lived as she worked. but that also meant that she could be snuck up on. an easy death. 

that’s why it didn’t startle her when she heard it: something soft shifting through the brush. not a deer. not a scout. but also, not a threat. just presence.  a footfall, a pause. the feeling of being observed.

azzi didn’t look up right away. she slowed the pull of her hands, letting a small head of lettuce roll into the empty belly of her basket. the long brown line of her neck twisted meekly as she let the moment stretch, her lungs expanding and contracting with delayed anxiety. she let it linger. the rain had stilled, and now the brim of her hat acted as a small shield from whomever was behind her. her hands were wet with earth.

carefully, she turned around. her shears hung loosely from her hand, the blades dull with mud. there was nothing practiced in her stance, nothing defensive. only the slow, reluctant curiosity of someone who had long accepted that danger, if it came, would not be outrun.

but what met her wasn't an animal. it was another woman. 

tan skin, despite the season. a sweep of wet blonde hair, dirt-streaked and pulled into a loose, messy bun that clung stubbornly at the nape. the roots were darkened, rusted by sun. her cheeks were flushed from effort or wind, maybe both, and a smudge of soil clung just beneath one of her impossibly blue eyes. she stood half-shadowed by the trees, close enough to be clear, but far enough that azzi had to squint a little through the mist.

and slung across her back was a rifle, its matte black stock dulled by rain, the trigger jutting gray and ugly like a sneer.

azzi still didn’t move. she just took her in.

the woman’s eyes swept the space like she was cataloguing it. she glanced at the porch, the rows of struggling herbs, and the way azzi’s cotton skirt clung desperately to her shins. then their eyes met, and for a moment, the air went thinner.

the woman didn’t speak right away. she just gave a small nod, more acknowledgment than greeting. something unreadable passed across her face. it was something like relief, but sharper.

“you always leave it open like this?” she asked, voice low and dry-edged, like she hadn’t used it much lately.

azzi didn’t answer. her fingers twitched once against the shears, then went still. she just said, softly:

“i didn’t want a gate.”

“you’re leaving yourself wide-open,” the woman remarked, raising a pale brow.

azzi’s mouth twitched. “i know.”

and even though azzi knew the answer, she asked her next question anyway:

“did you come from the commune?”

the woman eyed her for a second, took in the wide hat and its little tie beneath azzi’s chin. she decided to be honest. 

“no.”

azzi nodded, though she was unsurprised. the direction the woman had stepped out of spoke from the land miles beyond hers, not the carefully curated path to the main base that fell to her other side. 

“you’ll have to go there if you’re interested in staying.”

the woman pressed her lips together, then said, “you ain’t a part of it?”

azzi tilted her head to the side, and the motion made her look unbalanced. her eyes were sweet and full, brown like a doe’s.

“i am, but i live on my own. they know of me, but since i take care of myself, they leave me be. it’s a relief, i think, to know that they don’t have to completely take care of me. we’re struggling as is.”

azzi wasn’t sure why she was sharing. providing this information only revealed that both she and the commune were weak, an easy annihilation if the woman was so inclined. she didn’t even know if the blonde was alone.

“mmm,” was the answer she got back. 

azzi shifted in place, aching to drop back to her knees and finish cultivating. 

“are you going to kill me?” she asked, just to be sure. azzi’s voice was light, but the question hung heavy between them.

“absolutely,” the woman said, deadpan. then, with no fanfare, she reached for the rifle at her back.

there was a tight pause before, with a few quick motions, she showed azzi how the clip was empty. 

azzi smiled, all teeth, and her skin almost split with the effort. it hadn’t done that in a while. satisfied, she lowered herself back to the ground and gently pushed away a rabbit who had been nibbling at the top of what just might have been a carrot. maybe they weren’t late, she thought with an inner laugh.

“you think they’d let me stay?” the woman called out.

“yes,” azzi responded. the commune never turned away anyone. it almost always irritated her.

“think they’d let me live on my own? like you?”

“mmm,” azzi said, “no. they would probably assign you to me, actually.”

“and why’s that?” the woman asked apprehensively.

“because,” azzi said, with a somber look over her shoulder. “i’m on my own now. i don’t have anyone left. so, i’m the only one with any space left.”

✸

azzi didn’t wait for the official decree. she could now picture cd’s tight smile, her short hair curling at the edge of her jaw as she welcomed that strange woman in.

instead, she dug into the dirt until her nail beds were red and raw. she planted the small bits of the iris that had been left over on the kitchen sill, its petals drooping just as her body had been doing since its owner passed. she sat, small and trembling in the dark as the loss rocked through her. she was learning that grief was a staircase she was almost always climbing. every day, she either got lost or found the landing, but she would never stop stepping on it.   

after, she grasped the top of her basket with both hands and hauled herself up from the ground. the weight of it almost swung her back down, but she only braced her knees and carried on. it was good that the wicker was heavy. it meant the earth, and she, were both capable of production. 

just before she climbed up the porch, she turned and looked out onto the land. the dirt was bloodied with the sunset, the sky shimmering with pale fire as the moon slipped into its opposite’s place. she watched it as it rose, and when it reached the highest peak, and the sun reached its lowest, she opened her mouth and said thank you to both. she repeated what her old neighbors had taught her, just before leaving:

“i am part of your natural world, and i am grateful to live off of you. i am grateful to breathe with you, to walk with you, and to call you home. i am connected to you and i commit myself to taking outstanding care of you, as you do me. i do what is in my power, i am conscious of you. i love—i love you.”

she always stumbled through the last line—everyone she had ever said that to was no longer there to affirm that they loved her back. 

she stepped through the door, the evening light pink and yellow like a fever-filled throat. the colors weren’t necessarily her choice, but the solar grid was twisted and makeshift, so this is what came through. it could be worse, so she let what passed through, well, pass through. 

the kitchen slowly filled with the scent of thyme and boiled bone broth, small bits of fat dripping off the tiny slabs of deer meat she had straining over a simmering pot. the meat was running out, which she didn’t mind, but the woman might. she hoped they could figure something out. azzi was never one for the killing. inês had been braver than her: knife, shotgun, and all. they were balanced that way.

she’d just washed and tucked the produce away, her knife bridged on the oven-warmed plateau of a second piece of flatbread a little larger than usual, when the door creaked open. there wasn’t a single shard of surprise that was felt in her chest. something different settled in. it was so strange, so much stranger that azzi put the knife down. she barely shifted. only pressed her fingers into the edge of the counter, the grain of the wood grounding her.

she supposed it felt rather close to being right about being chosen.

the woman stepped inside without fanfare, shoulders still damp, the rifle still slung over her back. mud flaked from her boots. her mouth was tight, her jaw working like she was chewing on the fact of being here.

azzi didn’t greet her. just scooped a generous handful of meat into the clay bowl closest to her, drizzled it with slick deposits of vegetable soup, and slid the flatbread gently beneath. she placed it all on a pale green porcelain plate, then set a second bowl on top to keep in the heat. like she’d done it a hundred times before.

“you’ll probably want to wash up first.” she looked up to find the blonde’s sharp eyes on her. “take your boots off, please, and set them by the door. the wood is hard enough to clean as is.” 

“you’re azzi,” the woman said, not quite a question. more like a fact she’d been told, somewhere along the way, and it was now being confirmed against the body it belonged to. 

azzi nodded, her curls bouncing with the affirmation. she was already wiping her hands on a linen scrap. “yes.”

she disappeared for a moment, her body folding into the hallway, into muscle memory. the quiet choreography of care. the way you did when someone needed you to know what to do. she returned with a dented basin, a thin bar of pale soap, and one of her better towels. rough but clean. she’d picked it quietly. unconsciously. the one with the frayed edge, she always folded inside.

 her movements were brisk, but not unkind. familiar. this had been routine once.

“water’s hot,” she said. “you just need to turn the valve. red knob. you can leave your things by the fire. put your gun by the door. i’ll handle the rest.”

the woman—to azzi, her name was still unknowable—still hadn’t sat down. her eyes followed azzi’s dirt-nailed hands. then, finally, she sagged like her spine had been holding too much. her knees bent slowly, almost reluctantly, as if suspicious of gravity, and she lowered herself to the floor, resting her elbows on them. her breath whistled slightly through her nose.

azzi stopped, her body stilling gracefully. she took the other woman in. she noticed the way her lashes clung together in wet little spikes. the way her fingers flexed, like she couldn’t quite unclench them. she was running low. her body was fraying. you could see it in the body, even before the eyes gave it away with their glazed water-blue weight. 

“you’re not gonna be able to wash yourself,” azzi said. not softly, not sharply either. it was just the obvious state of things.

the woman looked up, surprised. then gave a quiet laugh that scraped up and out of her, sharp and exhausted. “no. not really.”

azzi nodded once, then disappeared into the kitchen.

she returned with a small glass vial of oil, jasmine and pink salt, and knelt beside her like it was nothing. like it was the only thing left to do. she worked with care. even without a proper hospital, her bedside manner was inscribed deeply into the lining of her tissue, young as it was.

wringing out the cloth just enough, she pressed it gently to the blonde’s neck, then the crook of her elbow. the skin there was scraped raw in places. she rinsed dirt and flecks of what she knew to be blood from her collarbone, from her jaw. there were scars twisted around her stomach. azzi didn’t ask why.

“lift your arms,” she murmured, and the woman did. mute. trusting, if only because she was too tired not to be.

“tell me if anything hurts,” she murmured.

the woman didn’t, though everything did. 

the water ran in slow rivulets down her chest, catching on the curve of her ribs. azzi tried not to look. not really. but some things revealed themselves no matter where your eyes landed. by the end, she smelled thickly of jasmine, with a hint of rose and the mountains. 

she smelled like one of azzi’s ghosts.

afterward, azzi took the towel and dabbed gently at the woman’s face, smoothing away the last of the dirt from behind her heat-pink ears. then she picked up the comb she’d placed on the floor and began to work slowly through the damp blonde strands, careful not to tug. the hair was heavier now, a wheat-deep gold that was even darker at the ends. she left it loose. didn’t explain why

“my name’s paige,” the woman said at last, voice low, almost hoarse.

azzi paused mid-stroke. then resumed. “that’s a nice name,” she said, pulling the comb’s teeth all the way through.

they ate in silence. just the fire cracking and the muted clink of ceramic. the house sighed in the beams, wood settling like old bone. the birds had stopped. azzi knew it was late, then.

after, azzi stood in front of inês’s room for a long time. not opening it. there was pain just being near it. paige watched from behind her, building a shape of her in her mind. not consciously. just the way you do, when you’re trained to. 

she noted the way azzi’s fingers hovered. how some gripped the others like they could hold them upright. she watched azzi’s grief clutch her hips with invisible hands, saw the way her limbs lifted and curled awkwardly toward the doorknob like it might burn her. her eyes flicked, almost against her will, to the framed photo on the wall.

two girls. one with dark eyes and darker hair, her grin wide, teeth just shy of too large. the other, unmistakably azzi, pressed against her, eyes squeezed shut with joy. pre-collapse. you could tell by the light.

the key next to the frame hung limp on its nail, dust-heavy and stiff. a relic.

“i can take the couch,” paige said gently. quiet, but not unsure. an offer. a line in the sand.

azzi didn’t look back. just let out a quiet breath, a break in her ribs. something fell loose from the crack.

 “no,” she said. “your body can’t handle that right now. it’s fine. i’m in the master.”

she left before paige could reply.

the master was larger than the rest of the house let on. the ceilings stretched higher here, and the walls were painted a soft, dusty cream. the air was warmer. thicker. it smelled faintly of that same jasmine azzi had soaped paige down with, and something a bit more exotic. fig maybe.

the room had been called the marie antoinette room by the architect who designed it. inês had liked that.

the name showed itself without much effort. a chandelier hung, long since stripped of power, but still glinting faintly with dust and its crystalline skeleton of decadence. the bed sat like a small stage in the center, canopied and curtained. its sheets were peach and muslin, clearly survived by someone who had loved it enough to protect it. azzi stepped further in, approaching it with an odd methodology. she folded the quilt back with care, not ceremony.

she had changed into a loose, mid-thigh nightgown, the color of ink. dark indigo, almost black. it caught the light in a way that made it almost look like water, its folds as still as laminar flow. it didn’t belong to this world. or this collapse. paige clocked it. registered the choice.

they didn’t speak as they lay down. just turned their backs to one another like they’d done it before. paige didn’t question the arrangement. not yet. but she noted the oddity of it. sleeping beside another body could be a kind of truce. or a kind of failure. or both.

since the garden, paige had known: azzi was worn down. something in her had stopped flinching. her sense of self-preservation was a sleeping beast, or maybe a murdered one. she was eager to fall on some level, her body constantly primed for the angel of death’s intermittent arrival. for a mistake. for whatever would come first.

azzi reached out, paused, then pulled the curtain closed.

darkness swallowed them.

it was a clean black. not moonless. just total. the kind of dark that was unable to be stimulated. paige felt suspended in it, and maybe that was what made it so easy to plummet, her mind shutting off for the first time in weeks.

they lay back to back. no noise. no light. they lay back to back. no words. just separate prayers whispered into a space neither of them believed in.

azzi didn’t sleep.

her body stayed taut with quiet alarm. the heat of another person so close, unbearable in the gentlest way. 

she didn’t sleep. she couldn’t. her body was humming, wired with the intimate electricity that arrived with a break in solitude. here was someone else, someone warm and breathing. the feeling of being perceived hadn’t worn off. if anything, it pulsed stronger now that paige was so close.

the pressure of a body beside hers, not touching but undeniably there, stirred something dreamlike. she stared into the dark, eyes wide.

paige hadn’t even touched her.  but she’d allowed azzi to tend to her. and that was worse.

they had shared water, and all the while paige had looked at her and seen someone there.

azzi had always been best under pressure. applied or not.

she didn’t sleep. 

but when morning came, she felt something as though she fit better inside her skin.  behind her, paige curled close to the diamond ridge of her spine, knees tucked in. seeking warmth. azzi lifted her hand and slipped two fingers into the curtain’s split, so that she could see the sun.

as the pale fire of a new day bled in and burned her, she thought that something in her felt rested.

© hcneymooners.

[hwaretic]

Where The Soft Things Are | k.ys

pairing : kang yeosang x fem! reader

genre : very fluffy fluff

word count : 7.2k

synopsis : on a quiet, rainy weekend, you and Yeosang find yourselves wrapped up in a slow, gentle magic of being deeply in love with cookies, cuddles and a blanket fort kingdom made for two.

check out more from the masterlist !!

You weren’t supposed to wake up yet.

But the absence of Yeosang beside you had tugged you out of sleep like a thread unraveling a dream. Your fingers stretched across the sheets, feeling only warmth fading where his body used to be. A gray light seeped through the curtains, soft and sleepy. Rain tapped a lullaby against the window.

You sat up slowly, the oversized hoodie you stole from Yeosang slipping off your shoulder. His scent still lingered in the cotton—clean, warm, familiar. It felt like him wrapping his arms around you, even when he wasn’t there.

The apartment was quiet, save for the whisper of rain. You padded into the hallway in fuzzy socks, following the faint smell of vanilla and something sweet.

There he was.

Yeosang stood in the kitchen in pajama pants and a fitted long-sleeve shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair still slightly messy from sleep. He was biting his lip in concentration as he carefully arranged something on a tray.

Your heart swelled like a marshmallow in hot cocoa.

“You’re up,” he said, startled slightly when he turned and saw you watching.

You smiled sleepily. “You left me.”

“I was coming back. With these.” He held up the tray like it was a gift from the gods. On it: a stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs shaped like little hearts, and two mugs of what could only be your favourite chai latte—complete with whipped cream.

“You cooked for me?” you said, blinking. “At this hour?”

“It’s almost eleven,” he teased, walking toward you. “You call that early?”

“I call anything before noon ‘still dreaming time.’”

Yeosang leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Then let’s pretend we’re still dreaming.”

He set the tray down on the coffee table, then turned to face you with the sort of grin that could melt the clouds outside.

“Wait here,” he said mysteriously.

You watched as he disappeared into the hallway, only to return carrying a massive bundle of blankets and pillows. One by one, he dumped them onto the floor beside the couch.

“What are you doing?” you asked, already giggling.

“Operation : Cozy Kingdom,” he announced. “I’ve declared today a no-leaving-the-house, no-responsibilities, all-the-soft-things kind of day. You and me. Snacks. Cuddles. Blanket fort. Yes?”

“Fort?” You raised a brow.

He grinned. “A palace.”

You didn’t even try to argue. In fact, you started grabbing cushions to help.

An hour later, the living room had been transformed into a glowing, magical world of softness.

Blankets draped over chairs and books created high ceilings. Pillows lined the floor in a cozy nest. Twinkle lights strung across the top cast a gentle golden hue over everything. A sign—handwritten on cardboard and stuck to a pillow—read “Kingdom of Cozy. Rulers : Y/N & Yeosang.”

Yeosang peeked out from under the makeshift archway, his hair now slightly frizzy from crawling around in static-filled fleece.

“Welcome, my queen,” he said dramatically, holding out his hand.

You curtsied, then took it.

Inside, it was perfect. Warm. Safe. Yours.

You both laid down, plates of breakfast forgotten beside you as Yeosang pulled you into his arms.

He kissed your temple. “You like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

You turned to face him, your noses brushing. His eyes were all stars and morning softness.

“You,” you whispered, “are the fluffiest man alive.”

“And proud.”

You reached up to trace the curve of his cheek with your finger. He caught your hand and kissed your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours.

“Can I confess something?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“I think I like this version of us the most. The slow, sleepy, quiet kind. When there’s no pressure to perform or be anywhere else.”

You rested your forehead against his. “I do too.”

“Sometimes I feel like… this is the kind of love that never has to shout to be real.”

Your throat tightened.

“I know exactly what you mean,” you murmured.

He kissed you then. Not hurried. Not hungry. Just… present. You melted into him, your heart blooming quietly in your chest.

By afternoon, the rain hadn’t stopped. It only deepened the cocoon around you both.

Yeosang had disappeared into the kitchen again, this time armed with a new mission : cookies.

From your pillow nest, you watched as he moved around the counter with far more grace than any human should have. He danced a little to the lo-fi playlist humming in the background, hips swaying as he cracked eggs into the bowl.

You couldn’t resist pulling out your phone.

click

He looked over his shoulder with a mock scandalized gasp. “Are you secretly photographing me again?”

“Always. You’re beautiful.”

He blushed.

“I’ll allow it,” he said, turning back to the bowl. “But only if you help me decorate them later.”

“Deal.”

You joined him in the kitchen just as he was scooping out dough onto a tray. He handed you a spatula like it was a wand.

“We’re making cookie hearts,” he declared. “For morale.”

The two of you leaned over the tray, hands brushing constantly. You added sprinkles—pink ones—until Yeosang joked that it looked like a unicorn had exploded.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned playfully.

“Oh Yeah? What would you do?”

Without a word, he smeared a dollop of cookie dough on the tip of your nose.

You gasped.

“I dare you,” you hissed.

Yeosang smirked. “You’re in trouble now.”

Ten minutes later, the kitchen was a mess.

There were sprinkles on the floor, flour in your hair, and Yeosang’s shirt had a tiny handprint on it from where you’d slapped him with powdered sugar. You were both breathless, grinning like children.

The cookies had somehow made it into the oven.

As they baked, Yeosang stood behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You swayed together to the soft music playing in the background.

And then, he said it—quietly, simply.

“I want to do this forever with you.”

Your heart skipped.

“Make cookies?” you joked, but your voice caught a little.

“No,” he said softly, lips brushing your ear. “Wake up with you. Make forts with you. Dance in the kitchen. Laugh about nothing. Love you.”

You turned in his arms, eyes wide.

He looked serious—but not scared. Just… honest. Pure.

“I mean it,” he said. “I love you. And I want a million more rainy mornings just like this.”

Tears blurred your vision. Not from sadness. From being full.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “So much it hurts.”

Yeosang smiled then, and it was the kind of smile that made every season feel like spring.

He kissed you again—this time, deeper. Sweeter. The kind of kiss that promises forever.

That evening, you curled up in your blanket fort with warm cookies, tea, and Yeosang holding you against his chest.

You listened to the rain together.

“I’m serious about us making this a tradition,” he said, stroking your hair. “The Cozy Kingdom. Every rainy day.”

“I’m not opposed,” you mumbled against him. “As long as you keep making cookies.”

“And cuddles?”

“And cuddles.”

He pulled the blanket tighter around you. “Then it’s settled.”

You tilted your head up. “Yeosang?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being my soft place to land.”

He smiled, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “You’ve always been mine.”

And outside, the rain kept falling. But inside your little kingdom—where the soft things were—everything was exactly as it should be: warm, quiet, full of love.

The kind that didn’t need to shout.

Because you felt it in every heartbeat pressed between you.

And that was more than enough.

taglist !!

@moonlitarcade @flambychan @yunniverse @blue5ummer @stefanoiswithme @ecriggs1990 @beljakovina @blehno @roomie7669

[darkredsugarcookie]

A Void of His Own - Thunderbolts* Bucky oneshot

Author's note: HI HUNNY BUNNIES so most of you are from tiktok for this one, which if you are, welcome! feel free to stick around! I saw thunderbolts last night and could not stop thinking about this. This really fits listening to house in nebraska and inbred by ethel cain btw. please read all the warning and let me know what you think! xx

Warnings: violence, gore, suicidal ideation, alluding to SA as well as the aftermath

I had expected it to hurt. 

It didn’t hurt. It felt like waking up from a nightmare, my heart still thumping in my chest hard enough that it shook my ribs. 

Snow crunched under my weight as I pushed myself up, blinking flakes from my eyes. I didn’t recognize it at first. Not by looking around. But I lowered myself a bit, looked up through the dry and bare trees and it hit like a bullet to the chest a second before I heard the sobs coming from the clearing. 

It was hardly a clearing. It was more of a bare section of woodland since my body broke the branches on the way down. 

My breath came heavy and it took a moment for me to reel it in, to focus. I had to focus. I took a step forward. Another. 

I stared at the body lying there in the snow— my body lying there in the snow. What remained of my left arm was in bloody shreds. Useless. I could remember the pain like it was yesterday. I watched as the blood stained the snow more red, tainting it more with every second.

God, that kid lying in the snow who’d only wanted to go home to Brooklyn. I had half a mind to comfort him. To kneel beside the body of my younger self and tell him it was okay— to just hang on for a decade or seven and it would get better. It’d never be as good as it once was, but it would be better than this and what was to come.

The sobs echoed off the walls of the valley as I watched the fingers of my right arm reach for the marred flesh of the left. The whir of metal fingers digging into the bark of the tree I was leaning against brought me back to where I was. 

I dragged in a breath, the feelings making my lungs burn. 

Twigs snapped, alerting footsteps. That body in front of me cried out for help. I remembered how raw my throat had felt. The image of Steve’s face as my hand had slipped played over and over in my head. The way he had hidden his face against the metal of the train car to avoid watching. 

I was always glad my final look at him was knowing he hadn’t seen me hit the ground. He didn’t deserve to see that. 

Grumbles of Russian floating up from the other side of the clearing and I ducked behind a tree, squeezing my eyes shut. Being here now, I understood it all. 

“That’s one way to get him back.”

“Not a total waste.”

“As long as he’s breathing and not another body to leave behind. He’s no use if he’s dead.”

With my heart in my throat, I leaned around the trunk of the birch to watch. The way that… boy of who I was cried for help... I had learned quickly that there was no point in that. But he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know anything yet. 

I watched panic creep into that old body of mine when the voices grew louder— when the patches on their arms were visible. The same patches of the men that had taken me only weeks earlier. 

Ropes were strung under and around an already almost lifeless body, my weight leaving a smear of blood in the snow. I felt my eyes start to sting as I watched those soldiers converse like nothing. Like this wasn’t the start of everything ending for me. 

My breath escaped me in a rush as I stepped out from the tree, the gun in my hand like the weight of the world as I aimed it at the back of their heads. I was shaking, but my aim was steady. 

And the second I pulled the trigger, I was right back where I’d been— lying back in the snow, sobs echoing off the valley walls. Like that movie Sam had made me watch— groundhog something.

Come on. 

There had to be a way out of here. 

“Yelena? Bob!” I called, turning in circles. It was a maze. I didn’t know how to navigate this forest. I didn’t know what to do.

I paused and took a breath, shaking those Russian words from my head. What would Steve do? 

“What would Steve do?” I asked myself quietly. 

I started running. I’d find the end of this eventually right? A river, a door, someone, something. 

Until I hit a wall hard enough that it had me stumbling back. A continuation of the trees, the sky, the ground… 

I flexed the metal fingers of my left arm and drove my fist through the wall. It crumbled enough for me to body through it and stumble into a damp smelling alleyway. 

Brooklyn. I’d know that smell anywhere. 

I also knew this scene. The sun overhead, the music coming from downtown, the voices floating down the alley. The second I saw her, I just… stopped. 

“I wasn’t even- even doing anything,” Rebecca cried, wiping her cheeks as she tried to stifle tears. 

“I know you weren’t, Becca,” I whispered in time with sixteen year old me as he knelt in front of her to inspect her skinned knees. 

“These things happen when people don’t understand who you are,” he said to her. I hadn’t realized it then, but now, watching like this, she took a deep breath after she saw me do the same thing. 

“People are mean,” she said, wiping her hands on her blue dress. God, she wore the life out of that dress. 

“Yeah, they are.” My eyes flashed up as I watched Steve veer around the corner exclaiming, “I found it! I got it!” 

Oh, Steve…

The blonde shoved a first aid kit into my sixteen year old hands and struggled to push himself up on the pallets to sit beside Becca. 

“Is this how you feel?” she asked, which made me smile a little. She was witty. So smart and funny. 

“Yes, actually,” Steve said, turning up his chin as I watched my younger self press a bandage to Rebecca’s knee. “Buck and I’ll teach those guys a lesson.”

“Uh, no,” my younger self told him. “I’ll go talk to them. You stay here.” “Because I’m not strong enough,” Steve said, giving me a bored look. 

“No. Because you’re one of my two weaknesses. Just stay put.” 

I moved closer, watching the three of them. The three of us. 

Becca climbed down and wrapped her arms around my younger self’s middle. I stood so close, wishing I could stop it here. Just leave it. Keep this, right here. I rested my hand on the back of her head as I crouched to look at her face, tucked against his chest. I pressed a kiss to her head and the next moment it was gone. 

I whipped around, suddenly standing in my old kitchen. 

“You what?” Rebecca said, the book in her hand falling to the table as she shoved away from her seat and ran over. 

She reached for the envelope and I watched my twenty three year old self hold it out her reach. “Becca—” 

“They finally got you?” she bit out, her blue eyes welling with tears. “Bucky, please say I’m wrong…” 

“I…”

“Please,” she whispered. 

“I’m sorry, Beck.” 

I reached for her, but my fingers met dust. Dust that looked too familiar and made me take a step back. But I tripped over a step and landed hard on my back, the smell of the molding concrete cell like acid to my nervous system. 

The cold cement bit into my skin and I just knew what I’d find when I turned around. This cell— this one was specific. It only had one purpose and suddenly I really didn’t want to be here anymore. I was done. I felt my stomach roil as I watched the woman fasten the button of her jeans back into place and just… leave. I knew her. I saw her often in my nightmares, or anytime there was too much physical contact that wasn’t ill intended. 

My eyes followed her out as my skin buzzed with the memory of the contact. I pushed myself to my knees, the sound of heavy breathing from behind me making my chest tight. 

Every movement was slow— like it was through some sort of gelatin, my fingers reaching for the muslin blanket in the corner, it was stained and torn, but it was better than nothing. 

I steeled myself before I turned around and came face to face with a version of myself I told no one about. Everyone knew about the violence. They knew about the killing and the torture that drew blood. They never bothered to think about the kind that didn’t. 

I laid the blanket over the bare lap of the man I’d been so long ago, a hard weight dropping into my stomach as the chains restraining his wrists clattered against the wall. Those eyes… 

They were mine, but… lifeless. Like there was nothing left in them. 

Footsteps sounded down the hall. Again. Someone new. 

“No.” A small breath of the word escaped me as my eyes burned and I squeezed them shut. “Enough.” This one was random. Couldn’t place her if you asked. But she warmed up quickly and what caught me off guard was when her fingers traced the ribs of the body in front of me, I felt it. 

I felt it. 

“No,” I said again, shaking my head as my feet dragged me away, my back hitting the wall. “No.” 

I felt it again, hands drifted, a warmth against my neck. 

“Stop—” 

I turned, facing the wall that had suddenly turned into glass. 

I saw the blonde just in the next room, my breath stuttering. “Yelena!” I called, but she didn’t turn. Didn’t react at all. She was in a bathroom, staring at a mirror. 

My brain turned and turned before I took out the gun tucked into my belt. Two shots through the glass before I bodied through it, the glass shattering. 

But it went dark. 

People appeared in front of me, every single one of them, a face that had haunted me for years. My heart was hammering in my ears, my skin cold as darkness wrapped the place, faces of every person I’d killed as him appearing in front of me, their hands reaching. 

Grasping. Pulling. 

I tried to shove them off, but they were deathly cold, gripping into my skin as I pulled and shoved, but nothing. It was like it didn’t matter. All that echoed through my head was their cries, the pleas for mercy before I’d pulled the trigger. 

I was panting, my body buzzing as I tried to shove the cold hands that touched every inch of me away. It felt like I couldn’t see, couldn’t think. 

It all collided at once. Everything that had ever been done to me— it crowded my mind like I would never escape it. I couldn’t breathe. 

I thought of everyone I’d lost, everyone I’d loved so desperately just for them to be ripped from me.

My parents.

Rebecca. 

Steve.

Sam. 

It was all swirling and spinning and I couldn’t breathe until suddenly, I pushed past another body. And another. 

Then I broke into… quiet. 

I stumbled, my boots thudding on the hardwood floor as I took in the space, the sunlight, the wallpaper. 

When I turned around, a breath of relief escaped me as I saw the other. “Are you guys okay?” I asked, moving towards the center of the room. 

“Are you okay?” Yelena asked, eyes fixed on me. 

I want my sister. I miss my best friend. 

I should’ve died young.

“Me?” I said, brushing it off. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve got a great past, so I’m totally fine.”

[empyrealix]

⊹ ࣪˖ LOVER | #CS55

pairing. carlos sainz x reader

genre. fluff; suggestive

synopsis. you and carlos are on holiday, which includes ignoring all of your responsibilities and kissing—making out—until you're both nearly dizzy.

warnings. suggestive

word count. 1k

note. this was supposed to have more plot, but it doesn't. i wrote this to a, procrastinate my philosophy exam and b, to procrastinate writing the second part to my wolff!reader fic. ALSO CARLOS P9?? WE'RE IN THE POINTS !! AND OSCAR WIN !!

MASTERLIST ; requests open

CARLOS HAD GONE ON A RUN early in the morning, just as the birds began to wake, hours before you woke. He walked into the hotel room just as you stirred; blinking sleep from your eyes; staring at Carlos in his exercise gear, sweat clinging to his brow, with bleary eyes—Carlos smiled at the sight of you; cocooned in the white duvet, blinking blearily up at him as though your eyes had just fluttered open. The smell of sweat and sea surrounded you as Carlos stepped closer to the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead with the whispered promise that you would get breakfast as soon as he was done showering—you mumbled something about wanting to go back to sleep while you squinted against the unwelcome light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows; Carlos laughed.

“Okay, mi amor.”

You laced your fingers with his before he could fully pull away and disappear into the bathroom; a smile quirked up the corners of his lips; his thumb running over the back of your hand; Carlos brought your hand up to his lips, pressing his soft—pillowy, almost—lips to the back of it. He leaned over you—the smell which surrounded him, which came from him, surrounded both of you—nuzzling his nose with yours, pressing his lips to yours—the same tender way he had been doing the four years you’d been together; the same way Carlos hoped you would let him do as long as the both of you lived. A smile curved up your lips; you placed two fingers on his shoulder, gently—teasingly—pushing him away from you. When Carlos took a step backwards—his hand still holding yours, your fingers still entwined—he saw the disgusted look on your face; your nose was scrunched up, and the smile which previously sat etched on your face was turned into a frown.

“Go shower. You smell like sweat.” You shooed him away, removing your hand from his—still sweaty—hand. Chuckles bubbled past his lips, filling the room; whenever you heard that sound, you swore you would bottle it if you could—sadly, that wasn’t possible; sound couldn’t be bottled. His chuckles lingered in the air long after he closed the bathroom door after him.

You curled up on your side, closing your eyes, waiting for Mr Sandman to pull you back to sleep; Mr Sandman never came. With a frustrated huff—and a misplaced, almost malicious, muttered curse meant for Carlos—you sat up in the soft hotel bed. Light streamed in through the windows facing the bed, bathing the room in sunlight; you squinted against the sun, reaching for the remote on Carlos’ side of the bed—the blinds made a mechanic whirring sound as they were lowered. With the light gone—you didn’t mind light, necessarily, it was just this light; it was too bright and it was too early—your fingers curled around the book left abandoned on your nightstand—the book you had been itching to start for weeks, but had never found the time to.

Before you could finish the first chapter, Carlos stepped out of the bathroom; a white towel was wrapped around his waist; moisture clung to his skin. He smiled as he saw you sitting in bed, the duvet gathered around your hips, your hair messy, an old shirt of his hanging off your frame, a book open on your lap—Carlos recognised it as the book you had carried around in your bag for weeks, opening occasionally only to read the first page before putting it away. Carlos Sainz realised again—as he had realised so many times before this—that he could stare at you forever; it never seemed to matter to him what you were doing; your mere existence was enough to stop him, momentarily, in his tracks.

“You finally started that book?”

You hummed softly, glancing up at him from where you sat, holding the book up so he could read the title. In two short strides, Carlos was standing beside you; he pulled a shirt over his head; he—gently—placed two fingers under your chin, tilting your head upwards to meet his warm, brown eyes—you swore you could get lost in them if you only stared into them long enough; you smiled into the kiss he placed on your lips—which you eagerly reciprocated; you tugged him down towards you, your hands curling into this t-shirt; the book long forgotten as Carlos’ lips pressed against yours and his fingers tangled in your hair. The moment was broken—shattered like glass against concrete— as Carlos—in an attempt to get closer to you, despite the awkward position he was in—stumbled; he yelped; his body falling forward, collapsing on the bed. You couldn’t stop the burst of laughter springing from your lips. Carlos twisted his head to look at you.

“Stop laughing at me, mi vida.” He whined—you could see amusement dancing in his face, pulling the corners of his mouth into a smile.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just unexpected.” You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp; Carlos immediately relaxed into your touch; he shifted his body weight, shuffling around until he was no longer halfway draped over you. He looked at you in disbelief, as though not fully believing your apology—you didn’t blame him; you wouldn’t have believed your apology either. Again, your fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer until your breaths mixed and the only smell surrounding you was Carlos and that soap he accidentally bought in Italy once, and now swore by. You pressed your lips to his—for the third time that morning—hesitantly at first, slowly, until that faded away and Carlos’ strong hands rested on your hips, steadying you as you straddled him. His lips trailed from your lips down to your jaw; he pressed feather-light kisses to the column of your neck. You gently tugged at his hair, bringing his lips up to yours again.

“I thought you wanted to sleep.” Carlos muttered against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he felt you almost losing your balance.

“I thought you wanted to eat breakfast.” you quipped back, your lips still pressed to his.

“I never specified what I wanted to eat for breakfast.”

“Shut up, Sainz.” He laughed at your comment, which held no real malice, continuing to press kisses to your lips, pulling you closer to him.

[karaaaak]

Is it 4 am when I posted this, yes. Do I car. No. Get attacked with my draft about some things about some of the specters I find neat! If anything I say in this post is wrong, or could have something added to it I would LOVE feedback, I’m still getting the hang of long form posts lol

Anywho! Most of my point here are going to be from either Wikipedia or someone else’s post. I have really bad memory so if I say something that seem familiar to a post you or someone you know made then people mention it and I’ll tag them!

First specter I’m gonna talk about is Eulalie’s.

Eulalies specter, as show, is a chimera, more specifically a Baku!

Baku’s are “Japanese supernatural beings that are said to devour nightmares”. Which explains Eulalie dreameating and possibly also the dispeller of evil spirits ability

Another fact I found interesting is that in a legend about the Baku “a child would wake up form a nightmare and call for the Baku by repeating “Baku-San, come eat my dream” three times. Then the Baku will come into the child’s room and eat the nightmare and the child will go back to sleep peacefully. However calling the Baku should be used sparingly, because if they remain hungry after eating a nightmare they may also devour the child’s hopes and dreams as well.”

Im not to sure if that is relevant to Eulalies character at all but I felt like it was worth adding!

Another thing that many have pointed out is that the markings of Eulalies arms resemble burn marks. Along with the fact that after using her dispeller of evil spirits ability she coughs a flame of fire.

Next specter I wanna talk about is Bernice’s!

I don’t have too too much to talk about with her specter, just some bits and bobs I picked up on rereads

Bernice’s specter in one of my favorites, just because of the fact it’s similar to a self defense mechanism for lack of a better term. Basically what I mean by that is the things she list is death her specter has a large amount of, and another things. Which leads me to the mouths.

The mouths, to me, are extremely interesting. If i remember correctly I read this on a post so credit or op even though I can’t remember who it was 😭. But the placements of the mouths on her specter could be the places she was touched without consent and/or inappropriately. The mouths seem to work as a self defense to her body, biting at whoever comes near on their own. Proctecting those spot of her.

Another thing about her design is the focus on teeth. First then her death and her teeth falling out, and on her specter, with the large teeth on the extra mouths. This association comes from the Edgar Allen Poe story she was based on, Bernice. If you haven’t read it I will spare you you read and put the wiki summary here

“The story is narrated by Egaeus, who is preparing to marry his cousin Berenice. He tends to fall into periods of intense focus, during which he seems to separate himself from the outside world. Berenice begins to deteriorate from an unnamed disease until only her teeth remain healthy. Egaeus obsesses over them. When Berenice is buried, he continues to contemplate her teeth. One day, he awakens with an uneasy feeling from a trance-like state and hears screams. A servant reports that Berenice's grave has been disturbed, and she is still alive. Beside Egaeus is a shovel, a poem about "visiting the grave of my beloved", and a box containing 32 teeth.”

Weird, i know. 😭

Another thing is her pearls. I couldn’t find any mentions of pearls in her story but she has a strange association with them. From them falling off during her death, her having many of them in her specter, and even her outfit in the fast pass episode (fast pass at the time of writing this but ep 126). I’m not to sure what this mean but i figured it throw it in!

Im think thats all imma do in this post, maybe if i find motivation ill make a reblog of this with Ada and Monty (if not Monty then Annabel)

[svnghxxn]

ᯓ𐙚 . ˙ Lucky I’m your soulmate. . . Pt 1

SOULMATE AU

f!reader X soft!sunghoon

Read part 2 here !!

Content :: Fluff, worshipful Sunghoon, SUNGHOON HELPING YOU BATHE but not in a sexual way ifywim

Note :: I have written fanfics before but it’s been a while, I have no idea how to navigate this app, I kinda had a thought and I made the acc, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give me feedback (but don’t be harsh) I know I’m not the best but I want to improve. Also tell me how to be aesthetic that’s my main inspo ANDDD give me Enha fic suggestions if you wanna idk how this works so pretend you’re talking to a 5 year old pls no abbreviations 😔

— — —

Everyone knows they have a soulmate from birth. Nobody is given a sign or hint about who their soulmate is, when they will show up, what they will be like, did I mention that they appear randomly? It’s not even an introduction, they just.. appear in your house! Pretty creepy, right?

This whole soulmate thing is universal. Scientists have been trying to find out what causes soulmates to appear. Is it based on the menstrual cycle? What if it’s based off spiritual beliefs? Who knows! All that we know is that soulmates appear randomly, and are supposed to be your other half, or whatever.

You, on the other hand, are waiting painfully for your soulmate to “appear,” maybe he could make all the troubles go away, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic, so watching compilations of soulmates “appearing” behind their beloveds while alone in your bedroom wrapped in blankets helped with your delusion that maybe you could have a cute moment like that, too. Even daydreams of your soulmate holding you as you slept helped you relax and find comfort on the hard mattress you called your bed every night.

You never imagined what your soulmate would look like, you didn’t want to set up unnatural expectations, and you wanted a little surprise! Though it was a low chance that your soulmate would look exactly how you expected, but still! You also hoped that he would have.. at least an average cock- come on! A girl has needs!!

It was the evening when you got home from work this sunny Friday. The sweltering heat making your seat buckle unbearable and almost suffocating as you rushed home, the AC wouldn’t help, your hair was down and it was like a furnace, making the back of your neck sweat like crazy. You almost fell asleep a couple times as you waited for the red lights to turn green. The honking of angry drivers behind you shook you back to reality. Your palms were sweaty as you held onto the steering wheel tightly, as if it were a lifeline, the only thing grounding you to reality.

Your schedule is stretched thin, all taken up by your stupid workplace, your routine consisted of waking up, brushing your teeth, doing your shift, going home, dinner, falling asleep. Sometimes you fell asleep in your work clothes, other times you would skip dinner to take a shower, you’ve been neglecting your health badly for the extra paychecks.

Thankfully today was your last day of painful shifts that make your legs hurt and pride hurt even more. Retail wasn’t the best way of making money, and the customers definitely didn’t help, it took everything in you not to spit back insults at those horrid people, but you bit your tongue and told yourself your job would be on the line.

You got home around 7:22 pm, the sun was still up in the sky but it felt like your day was already over. You managed to find motivation to do something before bed, to help yourself relax and start the next morning off on a good note. You had the weekend for yourself, might as well make the best of it.

You started by setting something up for dinner. You forgot to stop at the grocery store so you couldn’t make much, you mentally cursed yourself at the realization. You settled for something simple, easy on the stomach, you might need something light after only eating instant ramen and microwaveable meals the past week.

You got the ingredients ready, pots set up, and you stopped in front of the sink to wash your hands, it seemed your mind was on other things as the soap lathered and washed away the work of the day. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice a man next to you, watching your every move, it wasn’t until he reached out to touch your hand that you snapped back to reality.

“The fuck- AH!!” You yelped when you saw a hand reach out from seemingly nowhere, you stepped back abruptly, away from the man, and snapped your head in the direction of where the hand came from, to find an unassuming, very handsome, young man.

Your fear quickly turned to shock when it clicked, that wasn’t just a random man that broke in, it’s your soulmate! He looked at you with slightly widened eyes, his surprise didn’t meet his lips, his hand still hovering in the air from when he tried to touch your hand, but still, as if he’s waiting for your permission to touch him.

He has a quiet aura to him. His expressions are muted, barely there, but you can tell exactly what he’s feeling as if you two are connected—most likely from your soulmate link. His eyebrows, thick and dark, were the first place your eyes went to, it contracted with his pale skin, accentuating how his color palette was so elegant and attractive. His jawline was sharper than a knife, cleanly shaven. His lips are plump, slightly parted, they look divine, you’re too stunned to realize you’re leaning in slightly, your body already wanting a taste before your mind can catch up. His eyes are a gentle but deep brown, it makes you wonder how beautiful his eyes would look in the sunlight, or how innocent he would look with a shimmer in his eyes. His skin looks smooth and spotless, except for a few moles, one on his cheekbone, another one on the side of his nose, and one last mole near the corner of his mouth. His hair is dyed blonde, which looked absolutely stunning on him, it gave him another layer of innocence that you wanted to take away so desperately.

“You alright now?” Your soulmate says, his honeyed, deep voice filling the air, breaking the silence, breaking you out of your trance. “Oh- I’m good.” You lie, your voice escaping you in short breaths. You blink your surprise away, straightening yourself now that you’re practically melting under his gaze.

It’s not until you brush your hair out of your face that you realize how messy you look, still in your work clothes, hair greasy, sweaty from the car ride home, you most likely have eye bags from the quality of sleep your getting, and you probably broke out, you were too busy the past week to pay attention to something as tedious as skincare. Shame and embarrassment fills you and you squeak, immediately darting past him, not wanting to make a bad first impression, you sprint down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Wait- I want to know your name!” You hear your soulmate shout as you run past, you shout back an excuse. “Gotta shower! Later!” You stop in your tracks, the bathroom door almost closed when you hear his voice approaching the bathroom. “Can I help?” Your heart skips a beat at the thought. He doesn’t even know your name but he wants to help you shower?

The image burns itself into your mind. You, naked, relaxing under the water as his elegant, smooth hands run over your body—his voice snaps you out of your daydreams. “I’ll behave myself, I won’t do anything you wouldn’t want, Princess.” The pet name nearly makes your knees buckle. You never knew you had a thing for pet names, or was it the fact that he was your soulmate? Whatever, that was all it takes before you start to crack the door open more, and find your handsome, well groomed soulmate standing in front of the door, looking hopeful, almost eager to help.

“Come in.” You say after a moment, your mind running with dirty thoughts that would make a prostitute blush. He steps in once the gap is big enough for him to fit in, and you catch him glancing at your body, curiously, reverently, as if he’s undressing you with his eyes. “Thank you.” He says with a small, soft smirk.

“Oh- should I-“ you cut yourself off as your eyes widen, realizing that you might need to take your clothes off to let him help you shower. Your soulmate, wanting to watch you strip down, hesitates before turning around to give you privacy, as if he isn’t about to see you, touch you, in a few moments. You unbutton the work shirt you’re wearing, shimmying out of the uncomfortable pants you also have to wear. You unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground, your panties discarded quickly after. He seems to know when you’re done, and turns around, not giving you a moment to say you’re done.

The moment he sees your body, it’s like the wind is knocked out of him. His calm, put together demeanor cracks when his eyes catch on your pert nipples, already hardening from the cool air, his gaze drifts down, drinking in the sight of your bare skin, gentle curves, his breath quickening with each moment, his eyes widening slightly like earlier, his hands twitch at his sides, as if holding back the urge to reach out and touch your soft, supple skin. You notice his wandering gaze and your cheeks warm up, you turn towards the shower and step in it, not giving him any more time to ogle your body.

“I’m behaving- I promise Princess.” He calls out with that teasing nickname that makes your thighs press together, ashamed that he got caught checking you out already, he tries to make it up to you. You don’t respond, still trying to process the fact that he’s seeing you, really seeing you, you step into the shower and turn the knob, the warm water beginning to spray out the shower head. Your soulmate takes the hint and follows you, stopping beside the shower, you hesitate before you turn to him, your heart skipping a beat when you see the look in his eyes, concealed lust, masked with an equally as real look of admiration. As if he wants to care for you and fuck you dumb at the same time.

“Can I?” He gestures to the loofa hung up in the shower, presumably asking to wash you, watching as the water starts to sprinkle from the shower head, cascading down your soft body, the same body he wants to worship and make love to. You turn to him, reading his expression before you nod. You would love for him to wash you. You’ve been waiting years to finally have your soulmate, and he’s here! You want to do anything and everything with him, helping you shower is the least of it, not even scratching the surface of your daydreams.

He immediately reaches for the loofa, squeezing some coconut scented body wash onto the loofa before lathering it, giving your body a once over before he looks up at you, slowly lowering the sudsy loofa onto your shoulder, your eyes drift to his face, his handsome, reverent expression, dark eyes locked on your body as the loofa drags across your skin, washing your arms and shoulders. His eyes have a fire to them, burning in your skin, as if he’s holding back the urge to do something.

Once he’s done with your arms and shoulders, his other hand finds your waist as he washes behind your ears, in your ears, your neck, the neck he desperately wants to mark, your collarbone, he hesitates before the loofa dips between the valley of your breasts, his other hand dragging up along your side to gently cup your breast, your breath catches in response, and his eyes flick to yours, as if checking if your okay, before the loofa begins or trace the curve of your breast. His movements aren’t sexual or romantic, just caring, like he’s nurturing somebody, not pleasuring them.

The loofa explores your chest, your abdomen, it travels to the small of your back, up your spine, and through it all, your soulmate looks determined, reverent, as he washes your body head to toe. He doesn’t seem to react as he moves down to your thighs, gently maneuvering your limbs so he can reach your inner thighs, not paying attention to the heat between your legs, before he moves down to your calfs, his free hand holding your hip.

For the first time since he started, he says something. His voice is softer, as if the words slipped out before he could stop them. “You look like a goddess..” His hand pauses on your other calf, glancing up at you with a hint of embarrassment at his words he couldn’t stop in time. You respond with a blank stare, your body reaching to the sight of him on his knees, performing such an intimate act before you, and that compliment? Your knees are weak. He doesn’t dwell on it, tilting his head back down as he finishes washing your lower half. After a while of watching his elegant hands travel your body, he stands back up. Meeting your eyes again.

“Do you feel better?” His voice is soft like last time, but his words are more intentional, meant for you. You step under the water, rinsing the body wash off as you nod. “Better than usual.” You admit with a smile, even if you daydreamed about many things with him, you wouldn’t, you cant act on them. It’s as if your body wants to keep the moment intimate, sensual but not sexual. Your not even sure if your prepared yet.

“Good. Let me wash your hair.” He says with a small smirk. You close your eyes and turn around, tilting your head up as he grabs the shampoo and squeezes some in his hand, he starts to work the shampoo into your scalp, the sound of the shower running and his hands massaging your scalp fill the air, and you let out a soft, almost inaudible moan as he moves his hands against your hairline in such a way that seems practiced, as if he’s done this before. He doesn’t seem to react immediately, feeling a warmth deep in his lower belly before he shuffles behind you, letting out a heavy breath before he continues to wash your hair.

“You should really tell me your name.” He whispers, as if the words are meant for you, only you. You come back to reality, forgetting that you don’t know his either. “Only if you tell me yours.” You respond, staring up at the ceiling as you feel his elegant fingers thread through your hair, expertly washing your hair. You hear your soulmate lean in slightly before he speaks in your ear, his voice deep, low, intimate. “I’m Sunghoon. Now what’s your name, pretty girl?” He quirks his head, a teasing smile on Sunghoon’s lips. The tone of his voice makes your fingers twitch and your whole body shudder, you close your eyes before you answer. “Y/N.” You hear him exhale and lean back, gently guiding your head under the water to rinse the shampoo.

“Pretty name for a pretty princess~” Sunghoon lets out an airy chuckle before shuffling again. You don’t seem to register his chuckle, or the way he seems to have a brick in his pants. This week has been long and a shower is exactly what you need. Your soulmate is just a bonus. Once he’s done with your hair, he moves to turn off the shower, stealing a glance at the curve of your ass before stepping back, unable to take his eyes off you as he fetches a clean towel from under the sink, and unfolds it, reverently wrapping it around you, like your a fragile thing. He grunts as he manages to pick you up, his biceps flexing at the effort. You gasp at the sudden change and wrap your arms around his neck, your damp hair clinging to your skin.

He gives you a cocky smile as he carries you down the hallway and into your bedroom, you shiver along the way, not giving you any chance to react before he sets you down on his bed. “Dry yourself before I find some PJ’s, don’t want you to be cold, Y/N.” Sunghoon says gently, keeping his eyes locked on yours before he leans in and presses his soft, plump lips to your forehead, lingering on your skin before he pulls back and stands up, the kiss is a gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, a gesture that makes you stop and replay the moment over and over again. He turns around with an effortless grace, like it’s natural for him. He approaches your slightly ajar closet and begins to rummage through it.

As he gets to the closet, you can’t help but notice the ripple of his muscles as he sifts through the choices in your closet, and you thank the universe greatly for their choice in a soulmate. He’s absolutely perfect, he respects boundaries, he’s caring, he’s handsome, he’s the whole package!! and I bet he’s packing too.. You shake the unholy thoughts away and abruptly stand up, patting yourself dry, hurriedly towel drying your hair. In no time Sunghoon turns around with a soft smile, his eyes lingering on your skin before approaches you and sets an outfit on the bed.

It’s an oversized shirt, short shorts, and a matching pair of undergarments. Of course he would choose the most casual but enticing option. You don’t seem to care as you let the towel fall to the ground, Sunghoon turning around to give you more privacy before you slip on the panties, clasp the bra behind you, stepping into the shorts and pulling them up, and finally putting on the shirt. The short shorts aren’t visible as the oversized shirt swallows you whole, which is exactly what Sunghoon wanted when he picked out the outfit. He thought that maybe no shorts was a bit daring, so he compromised.

Like always, he knew when you were done, and turned around, his deep eyes roaming your body appreciatively before he steps forward. His toned arm slips around your waist and pulls you into his chest, your breath catches, but feeling his lips on the top of his head makes you relax, you huff against his chest before you wrap your arms around him, your arms are barely able to fully grasp him before he runs his fingers along your spine, through the oversized shirt, making your skin tingle and your body shudder from the intimate, light touches.

You feel Sunghoon’s lips smirk against your scalp, before he grips your waist tightly, lifting you with ease, your hands grab at his flexing biceps for stability as your startled again from his sudden actions, you quickly relax when he lays you down on the bed. Slipping beside you, his arms find their way around your waist again, pulling you against him yet again, his face nuzzling in your freshly washed hair. “Mm.. so pretty.” Sunghoon mumbles against your scalp, his voice intimate, smooth, his words meant for you, only you, his soulmate. “So lucky I’m your soulmate.”

Barely any time passes before you fall asleep in your soulmates arms, just as you fantasized before. Being wrapped in your soulmates warmth, his breath light against the back of your neck, his hard body pressed against your gentle curves, it’s like a dream come true. All your rough work days and sore feet are forgotten as you bask in Sunghoon’s embrace.

— — —

AGAIN PLS GIVE FEEDBACK I WANNA IMPROVE and also taking more Enha req, also smut coming next chapter if I’m not ashamed by the time I’m finished

[elliespassagerprincess]

Hi girlie was wondering if you could do your interpretation of “latch” Sam smith and disclosure ☯️

Latch - ellie williams x reader

Hi poookieeee!!! tbh i had two ideas for this. A lovey dovey one or a angsty one, i decided to go with the angst one!! lmk if you want the other one. I hope you enjoy this:)

This story is based off the song latch by Disclosure & Sam Smith. If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

Warning: Dark themes, emotional manipulation, obsession, trauma bonding, blood/violence, toxic dynamics

Summary: in which you were trapped

authors note hey:)

“Now I got you in my space

I won’t let go of you.”

You weren’t supposed to meet her.

You were just passing through. One night, shelter from the rain, a hot meal traded for clean bullets. Then you saw her—

tattooed arm, flannel rolled to the elbows, eyes sharp like she was built of steel and sorrow.

She didn’t say much that first night. But she watched you.

And you watched her back.

People in the commune whispered about Ellie Williams. About what she’d done. Something about vengeance. Something about blood. But no one dared speak it aloud.

Except you.

You weren’t scared of her. You were intrigued. You thought you could handle it.

Oh, how wrong you were....

Somehow, it became a routine.

She'd show up at your cabin. Late. Unannounced. She never knocked.

Sometimes she came with a cut on her lip. Dirt on her hands. Sometimes she didn’t say a word—just grabbed you by the collar and kissed you like she was trying to fuse your bones together.

It was thrilling. Addictive.

You never asked where she went. You didn’t want to know. Because deep down, you liked it.

The chaos. The danger.

The way she latched onto you like you were the only thing left in the world keeping her human.

And you let her.

One night, she doesn’t come home. You wait. You pace. You ask around. Then—someone finds her.

Covered in blood. Breathing, barely. A man dead beside her with his throat slashed.

She won’t say what happened. But something in her eyes is... off. Hollow.

You nurse her back to health. She never thanks you. But she doesn’t leave, either. That night, she holds you tighter than she ever has. You wake up unable to breathe.

And that’s when the dreams start.

Blood. Wolves. Her face but twisted. Smiling.

You should've been scared. But you latched onto her.

You find a journal in Ellie’s bag. You know you shouldn’t look. But you do.

Inside: drawings. Of you. Over and over.

Sometimes smiling. Sometimes sleeping. Sometimes... injured.

One page stops your heart.

It's you, lying dead. Ellie crying beside your body.

A note scribbled beneath: “If I lose her, I lose everything.”

You shut the book. Pretend you didn’t see.

But something shifts after that.

You start to feel it—how tightly she watches you, how she tenses when you talk to others, how she clutches your wrist, not your hand.

This isn’t love.

It’s possession and you were stuck.

You try to leave one night as she slept peacefully.

She catches you before you reach the gate.

"Where are you going?" Her voice is low. Calm. Terrifying.

"Ellie... I can't breathe anymore."

She steps closer.

“You said I made you feel safe.”

"You did. But now it feels like a cage."

Something flickers behind her eyes. And she smiles.

“Then I guess I have to make the cage prettier.”

She gently took your hand, and she took you back inside. You were trapped. She could've put you into a cage and you would've preferred that.

One night, you manage it. You drug her water. You run.

You make it to the riverbank. Steal a boat. You're free.

Or so you thought...

Until someone jumps from the shadows—

a blade to your neck.

But it’s not Ellie.

It’s Dina. Bruised and alive.

“Get away from her,” Dina spoke with a voice filled with sympathy. “She’ll never let you go.”

Your mind spins. “But—she said you were gone—”

“She wanted you to think that.” Dina starts as she slowly brings the blade away from your neck.

"You need to get away"

Ellie appears behind her. Calm. Smiling.

"You were never meant to find each other," Ellie says. Both you and Dinas head snaps into the direction of her voice. You felt your body go cold. Dina's eyes widen with fear.

You can't even recall what happened next. All you remember was the sound of gunshots. It was all a blur.

Dina shoots first.

Ellie dodges.

You grab the gun and fire—

Ellie collapses.

You don’t breathe until her eyes close.

You watched Ellie- the women who has been tormenting you for the last few months bleed to death on the ground before you.

You hear Dina talking. You don't even know what she's saying, the only sound you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

Months went by and you live with Dina now. The two of you don’t talk about Ellie.

You don’t talk about how you sometimes wake up reaching for her.

You don’t talk about how, sometimes, you still hear her voice.

And you definitely don’t talk about the page in her journal you kept.

The one that wasn’t of you dead. The one where she drew herself, alone.

Underneath, it read: “If I let go, I lose her.”

If she scared you so much, why are you still latching onto her?

<3