#I was strong because he was strong. I wasn’t afraid of being alone because he wasn’t afraid of being alone

[acespeon]

I’ve probably been kinning Knuckles since long before I knew what kinning was

[katszumi]

every room stood still. your kitten, katsuki insisted on naming 'skullcrusher', also didn't dare to move.

your head hung low, feeling the stuffy air sneak into your lungs. you glanced at the clock on your watch. 7:19. the usual time katsuki arrived at the doorstep.

normally, you'd rush to the door, showering your boyfriend with short pepper kisses on his face. but you remained on the velvet couch, the same couch you picked out when house shopping with katsuki.

a click sounded, indicating the door was recently unlocked. you harshly breathed in the same stuffy air, forcing yourself to swallow the panic that resided inside of you.

katsuki slugged through the door, immediately dropping his bag at the front door. his eyes met yours then to the kitchen, his face contorting slightly at the sight. it was empty?

"no food. what's up with you?" his words came off more formidable than he liked, especially when he knew something wasn’t right.

katsuki inched towards you, his eyebrows wearing an expression of its own. they were furrowed, his right eyebrow a little deeper than the other.

"katsuki," you started, breaking your words off.

he slightly cocked his head in confusion and worry. as he came closer, not only did he see your presence shaking alongside the couch, but he also saw two suitcases behind you that were clearly filled to the brim.

you watched how his eyes widened, how his teeth unclenched leaving his jaw to drop. his ruby irises instantly shot back towards you, scanning your face for any signs that you were playing a joke on him.

"what the fuck." the words leave his mouth too quick for him to register.

you swallowed nothing. "katsuki, we need to talk."

"talk?!" his mouth opened to continue yet no words seemed to come. oddly enough, for the first time, he was speechless.

"i-i need you to listen to me." you hated the fact that you stammered on your words.

"and then what?!" he paused, "you leave me?" katsuki's voice lowered in volume, a tone of angst leaked within his words.

you attempt to stand strong. you weren't even sure if this was the right choice now by looking at his wounded face.

slowly, you nodded.

"yes."

katsuki was expecting that. hell. who wouldn't when their girlfriend has two suitcases behind her? but hearing the words leave her mouth was entirely different. it was like a shot through his heart, the bullet penetrating every piece of restraint he had.

his head turned to the side. he was battling his thoughts; every fucked up thing he did occuring to his mind.

"is it because i left my bloody rag on the counter the night before? because if so, i promise to god, i will never do it again. i know how much you despise it." he went on his own plethora, his words and body language holding enormous amounts of panic.

"katsuki." you reinstated again. if he went on like this much longer, you were afraid you'd never have the strength again to walk out of the door.

"or because i yell too loudly at ungodly hours?" he ignored your words.

"katsuki." you repeated.

"i understand i'm not the easiest person. fuck. i'm even shocked i've gotten this far." he rambled, not caring about a word you have to say. he had to say something, do something, in order to convince you. bargaining with all of his strength. "what have i done? what do i need to fix?"

you reach for his hand, molding your hand to fit in his. you placed your open hand on top, soothing small circles into his skin.

"it's not you, katsuki."

katsuki's face fell. "then, why are you leaving me?"

"i can't live like this. i was not taught to be a housewife. to clean, cook, wait for your arrival every night at seven o'clock just to eat dinner with you." you shook your head. "i don't have a job or even a hobby! i am stuck within these walls everyday, the paparazzi at damn near every corner doesn't help either. i am exhausted being alone all day."

you could feel the sweat accumulate on katsuki's palms.

"i'll tell the media to back off. i swear to it. a-and, i know somebody who's looking for help with their business, i can set it u—"

"katsuki, i am miserable here!" you interrupted his words, slightly raising your voice. "i can't do it anymore! you are a pro-hero, dedicating your life to these people everyday. and what am i doing? making sure that your stomach is filled and that there's no stains on a countertop!"

katsuki was quiet, allowing the words to settle in. taking the moment of silence of advantage, you slipped your hands from his.

"you're a pro hero. you've made the ranks. you've accomplished everything you've hoped for." you sighed. "i just don't fit within your schedule."

katsuki remained silent, reality now kicking in for him. he bit the inside of his cheek to restrain the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"i'm sorry. i truly, really am. i just need to accomplish my own goals before it's too late."

katsuki's eyes fell to the ground, a very slow nod coming from him. he cleared his throat, also sniffling to remove the snot that was aching to run down his nose.

"where will you be staying?"

you echoed his action from earlier, turning your head sideways. you couldn't face him anymore after utterly destroying his heart.

"it's best if you don't know."

he paused. "right."

you spun on your heel to bend down behind you, grabbing your overly stuffed suitcases. you increased the height on the handles, slowly trudging them towards the door.

you couldn't believe that this was happening. it was a last minute decision. lying down in bed, realizing that if this continued, you'd be nothing more but a trophy wife that's made no true accomplishments on her own.

you were more than that. more than a cleaner and cook.

"i didn't accomplish everything." katsuki broke the silence.

you halted your steps, peering at him over your shoulder. you hoped he took the silence as permission to continue.

"i wanted to marry you. have a big ass wedding reception and drink until we could barely see anymore." he dryly chuckled. "maybe even have a few flowergirls of our own. that goal mattered more to me than any accomplishments i've made before in this life." your heart clenched at the fact.

tears covered your vision, your breathing starting to become sporadic.

"you can keep skullcrusher." you faced forward, grabbing the door handle. "i love you, kats. thank you for everything." your words trembled, tears uncontrollably streaming down your face.

as the door shut behind you, katsuki buried his face into his hands, and cried like a little boy in his now empty, silent home.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Finally doing something for this man at long, long last. (Whenever I watch Fred Hechinger in an interview dressed in a cute jumper, I wanna hug him, am I alone?)

This is mainly fluff and a little short, so ooc is to be expected in this.

It wasn’t often that Caracalla had a clear head but when he did it was mainly because you were the one to clear the fog from his mind, make him see you as you firmly grip the wrist that held the knife so close to your throat, see the concern within your eyes as you told him with a voice as calm as the cool breeze that caressed his cheek to break from this curse; this spell and come back to you.

You didn’t seem afraid whenever he got like this, when his illness took hold and have him desperately reach for the nearest object that could cause harm. You only looked calm, steady, levelheaded as you swiftly discarded the knife away from both of your reach and cradle him to your chest, making sure to press his head against your heart so that he could hear it and find peace in it.

You’ve seen him like this countless times, and will see him like this for countless more, but right now you could only pray that the next time won’t be for a long while as you pressed kisses into his head of hair. ‘You’re here my emperor,’ you’d whisper, ‘you’re here with me now and with me you shall stay.’

‘You make it sound as though you could command the fates to head your words, to head your silent warning beneath that would surface should you be not content with your reward.’ Caracalla says in a hoarse voice, having lost most of it when shouting until his throat was burning with a pain unlike any other.

‘I just wish to have my emperor come back to me safely.’ You replied as you began to run your hands up and down his back as he clings to you with an iron grip, unyielding and strong of their own, desperately trying to prove that you were right there before him. ‘Safely so I can hold him like this and tell him that it’s okay, that I’m not hurt should he worry that he caused me harm in his outburst as tears appear within his pretty eyes.’ You add in a voice barely above a whisper as you looked at him, only to see that he was indeed tearing up, his cheeks were flushed red like cherries; and yet to you he looked ethereal.

Caracalla almost looks as though he has came out of a painting whenever he cried or looked in even the slightest bit distraught, like he had emerged from a mosaic crafted from the most skilful and delicate of hands. His fiery hair a mess, laurel crown slightly tilted to the side of his head as he looked upon you as one would a god, a being to be worshiped on hand and foot and he was more then kneeling at your very feet.

His beauty and his chaos captivated you to no end and you would gladly let him kiss the wounds he’d sooner inflicted upon you in a moment of rage, you’d let him drag the knife across your chest should it please him and let him lick the blood afterwards; for he was beauty in it’s most realest of form and you couldn’t help but want to admire it up close, even if means getting hurt in the process as you didn’t care, just as long as you got to see such a man of his caliber up close you could died happy.

‘Your words, they stay with me. I remember them all.’ Was all he says as you both remained within the other’s arms, content to a point as this was merely the beginning of your tragic love story with the emperor Caracalla.

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK short please. Gojo is frustrated because someone he likes never faces him. But one day, she turns away and is facing a window/mirror; he sees her reflection and discover she only does that because she's trying to hide her blushing face from him.

He’s acting ridiculous and he knows it, staring at you like a creep while you didn’t even noticed his presence yet.

It’s always been this way. You, the most precious girl and now woman he’s ever met who acts kind and adorable around everyone else.

Fuck, you even manage to force a smile out of Nanami.

“I’m glad you’re okay, (y/n). That wasn’t an easy mission, especially since you were all alone”, Nanami comments while patting your shoulder.

“Yeah, we’re all glad”, Gojo blurts out.

Your face freezes. How did you not notice Gojo entered the room while you were talking to Nanami? Almost immediately, your heart starts pounding roughly against your ribcage, a wave of butterflies violently traveling through your stomach.

The truth is you adore Gojo Satoru. The way he walks, the way he talks, how he acts around his students. Since the first time you saw him with those shades that cover his bright blue eyes, so were lost.

But way too afraid to ever tell him.

“I need to get going. See you, (y/n).”

No, no, no. Panic starts rising up your throat, heat spreads through your cheeks. Nanami can’t leave you alone in that room with Satoru-

“Is there a reason why you’re always facing away from me? You don’t like me?”

When those words leave Satoru’s mouth on top of his steps that draw closer and closer, you feel like dying. Oh, if he only knew it’s actually the opposite, that you can’t stand looking at him without getting lost in his sight. You’re acting like an obsessed teenager with no self-control. What would he think about you if he saw you like that?

Instinctively, you yank your head to the side when he enters your vision. You can’t let him see you like this, with your cheeks so red that you look sunburnt.

Why would you hate him like that? Your body tells him more than urgently to just walk away, your face directed towards the window opposite of you. When was the last time he saw your beautiful features, your cute smile? He can’t help but stare at your reflection in the glass.

And your bright red cheeks.

“Are you flustered?”, he speaks up before being able to stop himself.

“What?”, you shriek back.

No, he caught the way you blushed. Does he think you’re obsessed now, that you’re a freak, maybe?

“Don’t tell me you’re flustered because of me”, he mumbles while grabbing your wrist gently.

“I…I…”

You can’t find the words. In fact, that minor touch of his hand against yours is enough to almost send what’s left of your mind over the edge.

“I just like you!”, you finally blurt out.

“You…like me?”

“And I get flustered when you’re around! Because I…I’m kinda into you!”

Thick silence hangs between both of you when panic starts to settle in your pounding heart. Oh, you messed it all up. He’ll never look at you again, might even make fun of you in front of the others. Would he do that? What if the director finds out? What if you get fired?

“Good for you.”

All it takes is a swift motion of his strong arms to devour you between them, his uncovered eyes now so near and clear that you’d definitely lose balance without him. Is this really happening.

“That I’m into you too, (y/n).”

[stylesispunk]

'You gave me something to lose'

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is afraid of losing you.

wc: 4k>

warnings: angst, mentions of panic attacks, fluff. Messy writing cause this is an old draft.

a/n: this was on my drafts for so long so I'm posting this as a gift because I'm going to London for the next two weeks and I won't be very active on here. So once I return, I promise I'll write the pendant things and requests I have. I hope you like this one. Happy reading 💌

dividerers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel didn’t fear anything, not dying nor being alone or even broke.

Not the clickers, not darkness, but you.

when his mission to take Ellie to the fireflies became into caring for the teen, he felt panicked.

And when he learned he had fallen deeply in love with you, you gave him something to lose.

And he was frightened.

Joel had always been a fortress, walls built high and strong to keep out the pain and loss he had endured. But now, those walls were crumbling. Each moment he spent with you, each secret you both had shared, each tender touch, chipped away at the defenses he had so meticulously constructed.

Since the day Joel met you at the QZ in Boston, you had stolen something from him. He didn’t decipher what back then, but every time you weren’t on his sight, a knot formed on his stomach. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, his blood rushed into his cheeks.

And God, every single time you smiled at him, he could find a reason to keep surviving in this world, again.

And that’s why when you had decided to go after him, when he and Tess took Ellie with them to the fireflies. He had made up his mind, between the anger and tinted loved was feeling for you right at that moment, he had decided he was going to protect you more than anything or anyone. Even when you got on his nerves.

The journey to the fireflies was grueling. The roads were treacherous, infested with clickers and hunters. Every step was a battle, every night a gamble. But Joel was relentless. He led the way with a grim determination, always keeping you and Ellie close. The tension was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the danger that lurked in every shadow.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the desolate landscape, you found a moment of respite. The group set up camp in an abandoned building, its crumbling walls offering a semblance of shelter. Joel, ever vigilant, took the first watch.

You approached him, the flickering firelight casting dancing shadows across his weathered face. He looked up as you neared, his eyes softening slightly. “You should get some rest,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

You shook your head, sitting down beside him. “I can’t sleep. Too much on my mind.”

Joel glanced at you, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I get that.” There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. “You know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “I never thought I’d feel this way again. Not after everything.”

You looked at him, searching his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve…” he paused, “Never mind.”

You furrowed your brow, sensing the weight of his unspoken words. “Joel, you can talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s just… it’s hard to explain.” He paused again, just a few seconds, lifting his gaze up to yours “Why did you followed us three?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, but you didn’t hesitate in your response. “I didn’t follow all of you. I followed you.”

“Why?”

“Because back in the QZ there wasn’t a life after you” you confessed, “Life sucks in there, but without you it would be worse.”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, the vulnerability of your words hitting him harder than he expected. He stared at you, trying to process the depth of your feelings. “I never knew…”

“Of course you didn’t,” you interrupted softly. “You’ve always been so focused on surviving, on protecting Tess and yourself, that you’ve never stopped to see how much you mean to people. How much you mean to me.”

He shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “Good to know it because I feel the same about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his admission filling you with warmth. "Joel..."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “When I met you, I didn’t think I could care for anyone again. But you... you changed that.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back, not wanting to break the cosmic moment “I’m glad. Because I can’t imagine going through this without you.”

Joel reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. “Now can you, please go to sleep?”

“Can I sleep here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s expression softened, and without hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah, you can.”

He shifted, making room for you to lie down beside him. As you settled in, the warmth of his body next to yours was both comforting and grounding. You felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you snuggled into his embrace, feeling safe and protected.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

“For what?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your hair.

“For letting me in. For trusting me.”

Joel pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I trust you more than anyone. And I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled, the weight of the world feeling just a little bit lighter in his arms. “We’ll figure it out together. “As the night deepened, the sounds of the wilderness outside seemed distant, the crackling fire casting a gentle glow around you. Joel’s steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest were the lullaby that finally coaxed you into sleep. In his arms, you found a peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

He felt his heart giving up for you.

That had happened a few months ago.

And Joel had become afraid. He found himself lying awake almost every night, staring at the sky and the stars, a storm of thoughts raging in his mind. What if something happened to you? What if he couldn't protect you? The thought of losing you, of seeing the light fade from your eyes, was a nightmare he couldn't bear. It was a fear far greater than anything he had ever faced; greater than the harsh realities of the post-apocalyptic world he had navigated for so long.

During the day, he tried to push these fears aside, trying to focus on the present. But it was impossible. Every smile you gave him reminded him of what he stood to lose. Every time you reached for his hand, his heart ached with the weight of his love for you and the dread of its potential loss.

He watched you with Ellie, how you cared for her, and how you brought joy and laughter into her bleak world. He saw how you made her feel safe and loved, and it only made his feelings for you deepen. Ellie, too, had become a part of this fragile, makeshift family, and his love for both of you intertwined, creating a web of vulnerability he couldn't escape.

The wind howled outside, carrying with it the bitter cold of the frozen winter night. Inside the small, dilapidated cabin, a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. You, Joel, and Ellie huddled close to the fire, trying to fend off the chill that seemed to seep through the very walls.

Ellie poked at the fire with a stick, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "What do you think it’ll be like, Joel?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Joel looked up from the map he was studying, his eyes softening as he met Ellie’s gaze. "What do you mean?"

"After the cure," she said. "When this is all over. What do you think it’ll be like?"

Joel leaned back against the rough wooden wall, his mind drifting to a time long past. "I reckon things will be...different. Better, maybe. People could rebuild, start over. There might be schools again, towns with shops, places where kids can just be kids."

Ellie smiled at the thought, her imagination running wild with possibilities. "I want to learn to play guitar," she said. "Like you, Joel. You promised to teach me, remember?"

Joel chuckled softly, a rare sound in these harsh times. "Yeah, I remember. We'll find one, and I'll teach you. Maybe we can even have a little concert, you and me."

You watched the exchange, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "What about you, Joel? What's something you’d want to do?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes flicking to you. "I... I’d like to have a place of our own. Somewhere safe. Maybe a little house with a garden. We could grow our own food, live a quiet life. Just...be together."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "That sounds nice," you said softly. "Really nice."

The conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, each of you lost in thoughts of a hopeful future. You leaned against Joel, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer.

Ellie yawned and stretched out on the floor next to the fire. "I think I'm going to get some sleep," she said, her voice already heavy with exhaustion.

"Good idea," Joel replied. "I’ll keep the watch."

Ellie nodded and pulled her blanket tightly around herself, quickly drifting off to sleep. You and Joel stayed by the fire, the quiet crackling of the flames the only sound in the room.

"Do you really think there’s hope for a cure?" you asked quietly, your head resting on his shoulder.

Joel sighed, his fingers gently stroking your arm. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I have to believe there is. For Ellie. For you."

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes searching his. "You’ve been through so much, Joel. Yet you still find it in you to hope. That’s incredible."

He shook his head slightly. "It's not hope," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you.”

Joel’s panic attacks had become more frequent as the days passed. Every quiet moment seemed to stretch into an eternity of worry and fear. He could feel the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, and the constant fear that he wouldn’t be able to protect you or Ellie gnawed at him relentlessly.

When the three of you had finally arrived at Jackson, Joel’s thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Jackson was a sanctuary, a place where you could all be safe, but his fears didn’t dissipate. If anything, they grew stronger. The more secure the surroundings, the more he worried about what could go wrong.

Jackson was bustling with life, a stark contrast to the desolate landscapes they had traversed. Children played in the streets, people worked in gardens, and there was a sense of community and hope that was almost overwhelming. Joel watched it all with a heavy heart, his mind racing.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to die, that some unseen danger would take him away from you and Ellie. The thought of leaving you unprotected was unbearable. That’s when the idea started to form: maybe the best way to protect you was to leave you in Jackson, where you’d be safe. Where you could even find someone younger than him to kept you alive.

Joel sought out his brother. He found Tommy in the community hall, finishing up some late-night paperwork. The room was quiet, the only sound the scratch of Tommy’s pen against the paper.

"Tommy," Joel said, his voice low and strained.

Tommy looked up, immediately sensing the urgency in his brother’s tone. "Joel, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Joel took a deep breath, his hands trembling. He sat down across from Tommy, his eyes filled with anguish. "I need to talk to you. It’s about Ellie and... and my….my " He couldn’t find the words to describe you. Calling you his lover wasn’t a proper word to use, it felt so weak. There was not nickname that could make justice to what you meant to him.

“Your girlfriend?” Tommy asked.

Joel nodded.

Tommy set his pen down, giving Joel his full attention. "Alright, tell me what’s on your mind."

Joel’s voice cracked as he spoke. "I don’t know how much longer I can do this. The fear... it’s eating me alive. I’m so scared something’s going to happen to them, and I won’t be able to protect them."

Tommy’s expression softened. "Joel, you’re in Jackson now. It’s safe here. We’ve got walls, people who care about each other. You don’t have to do this alone."

Joel shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "You don’t understand. I feel like I’m going to die, like something’s going to take me away from them. And then what? What happens to them if I’m gone?"

Tommy reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder. "We’ll take care of them, Joel. You’re not alone in this."

Joel’s tears began to fall, his voice choked with emotion. "I’m asking you to take Ellie with you. Keep her safe. And let my baby stay here in Jackson. She deserves a life that’s not filled with running and fear."

Tommy’s eyes widened in shock. "Joel, are you sure about this? You’re talking about leaving them behind."

"I’m not leaving them," Joel said, his voice trembling. "I’m trying to protect them. They’ll be safer without me."

Tommy sighed, his heart breaking for his brother. "And what about you, Joel? What happens to you if you leave?"

Joel wiped his tears, trying to steady himself. "I’ll find a way to keep going. I just need to know they’re safe. That’s all that matters."

Tommy nodded slowly, understanding the depth of Joel’s fear and love. "Alright, Joel. If this is what you think is best, I’ll take care of them. But you need to talk to them first. They deserve to know why you’re doing this."

Joel nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision. "I will. Thank you, Tommy."

Tommy pulled Joel into a tight embrace; his voice filled with emotion. "We’re family, Joel. We take care of each other."

Joel clung to his brother, the tears flowing freely now. He knew the conversation with you and Ellie would be one of the hardest things he’d ever have to do, but he also knew it was necessary. The fear of losing you both was too great to ignore, and he hoped that, in time, you would understand why he had to make this choice.

Joel walked slowly to Ellie’s room, his heart heavy with the burden of what he was about to do. He knew this conversation would be one of the hardest of his life, but he also believed it was necessary. He took a deep breath and knocked softly on her door.

“Come in,” Ellie’s voice called from inside.

He opened the door and stepped into the room. Ellie was sitting on her bed, reading one of the books she had found in Jackson’s library. She looked up and smiled when she saw him, but her smile faded when she noticed the serious expression on his face.

“Joel, what’s wrong?” she asked, her brows furrowing with concern.

Joel closed the door behind him and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked at Ellie, her young face full of life and determination, and it made his heart ache.

“Ellie, we need to talk,” he said softly, struggling to find the right words.

Ellie set her book aside and gave him her full attention. “What’s going on?”

Joel took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. “Ellie, I’ve been thinking a lot about our journey, about everything we’ve been through. And... about what comes next.”

Ellie shook her head, her voice rising with emotion. “Joel, no. We’re supposed to stick together. We’re a team.”

Joel looked down, unable to meet her eyes. “Ellie, I’m not sure I can keep doing this. The fear... it’s too much. I’m scared something’s going to happen to you, and I won’t be able to protect you.”

Ellie reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “We protect each other, Joel. That’s how we’ve always done it.”

Joel swallowed hard, his voice breaking. “I’m asking Tommy to take you to the fireflies. He’ll keep you safe until you arrive to the hospital.”

Ellie’s eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head fiercely. “No, Joel. I’m not going without you. We’ve come this far together, and I’m not leaving you.”

Joel’s heart ached at her words, but he forced himself to continue. “Ellie, you need to understand. I’m not... I’m not your father. I can’t be the one to keep you safe forever.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Ellie’s tears began to fall. “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father, Joel. Don’t you get that? Fuck”

Joel’s own tears threatened to spill over, but he steeled himself. “But you’re not my daughter and I’m not your father.”

Ellie shook her head, her voice filled with desperation. “No, Joel. Please. Don’t do this. We need you.”

Joel reached out, cupping her face in his hands. “I need you to trust me, Ellie. This is the best way to keep you safe.”

Ellie pulled away from his touch, her face a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I don’t want to be safe if it means losing you. You and her are all I have, Joel.”

Joel stood up, his heart shattering at her words. “I’m sorry, Ellie. But this is how it has to be.”

He turned and walked toward the door, each step feeling like a lead weight. He paused at the doorway, looking back at Ellie one last time.

With that, he walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He leaned against the wall, his heart breaking at the sound of Ellie’s muffled sobs. He knew this was one of the hardest decisions he had ever made, but he believed it was the right one.

As he stood there, trying to compose himself, he heard footsteps approaching. You appeared at the end of the hallway, having heard the conversation. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, he saw the same mix of anger, hurt, and confusion that Ellie had shown.

You approached Joel slowly, your face a mix of anger and hurt. He could see the questions in your eyes, the need for an explanation that would make sense of the pain he had caused.

"Joel," you said, your voice trembling. "What are you doing?"

Joel looked down, unable to meet your gaze. "I'm trying to keep you both safe. You and Ellie. This place, Jackson... it's where you can have a real life."

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a step closer. "And you think abandoning us is the way to do that? How could you even consider leaving us behind?"

Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's not abandoning you. It's making sure you're protected. If something happens to me—"

You cut him off, your voice rising with emotion. "Don't you get it, Joel? We need you. Ellie needs you. I need you. You're the reason we've made it this far. You can't just walk away."

Joel's eyes were filled with pain as he looked up at you. "I can't shake the fear that I'm going to die, that I won't be there when you need me most. I thought if I left, you'd be safer."

You stepped even closer, your anger giving way to desperation. "Safer? Joel, we've faced everything together. We protect each other. How can you think we'd be better off without you? How can you think I would be better off without you?""

Joel's voice was barely a whisper. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you knew you had to make him understand. You reached out, taking his hands in yours. "Joel, I love you. I need you with me, not just for protection, but because you're my love. Leaving me won't keep me safe; it'll break me."

Joel looked at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this. The fear is... it's too much."

You squeezed his hands, your voice gentle but firm. "We'll face it together, Joel. Just like we always have. You're not alone in this. Please, don't leave me."

Joel pulled you into a tight embrace, his tears finally spilling over. "I'm so scared," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion.

You held him close, your own tears falling. "I know, Joel. But we're stronger together. I need you. Ellie and I need you"

As you stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the hallway, Joel felt the weight of his fear begin to lift. The love and determination in your voice gave him the strength he needed to keep going. At least for a bit.

After a long moment, Joel pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I was trying to do the right thing.”

You nodded; your heart full of relief. "We'll figure it out, Joel. Together."

Joel took a deep breath, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you so much,” he said, pecking your lips.

Your heart swelled with emotion as you returned his kiss, a soft, reassuring touch. “I love you too, Joel,” you whispered, your voice steady with conviction.

Joel rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as if trying to etch this moment into his memory. “I just don’t want to lose you or Ellie. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to either of you.”

You stroked his cheek, your thumb brushing away a stray tear. “We’re not going anywhere, Joel. We’ve made it through so much already, and we’ll keep making it through. Together.”

He nodded, pulling you into a tighter embrace, the warmth of his body a comforting reminder of his presence. “Together,” he repeated, his voice more confident now.

You pulled back slightly from the embrace, looking up into Joel’s eyes. "Come on," you said softly, taking his hand. "Let’s get cleaned up. It’s been a long day."

He nodded, allowing you to lead him down the hall to the bathroom. The room was small, but it had a functioning shower—one of the many luxuries you had come to appreciate in this place. You turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right.

Joel stood there, watching you with an exhaustion and adoration. He started to undress, his movements were slow You did the same, your eyes meeting his with every piece of clothing that fell to the floor. There was an unspoken understanding between you. Both of you bared int front of each other, stealing glances of your bodies in display.

Once you were both undressed, you stepped into the shower together. The warm water cascaded over your bodies, washing away the grime and tension of the day. You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently running them over Joel’s shoulders and back.

He sighed, leaning into your touch. "You don’t have to do this," he murmured.

"I want to," you replied, your voice tender. "Let me take care of you." You said, pressing a kiss on his wet shoulder.

You continued to wash him, your hands moving in soothing, circular motions. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment began to ease the tension in his muscles. When you reached his hair, you took the shampoo and began to work it into a lather, your fingers massaging his scalp.

Joel closed his eyes, a soft groan escaping his lips. "That feels nice," he admitted.

You smiled, continuing to wash his hair with gentle care. "Good. You deserve to relax."

After rinsing the shampoo from his hair, you handed him the soap. "Your turn," you said with a playful smile.

He took the soap, his hands surprisingly gentle as he began to wash your shoulders and back. The feel of his strong, calloused hands against your skin was comforting, a reminder of how much you meant to each other. He took his time, his touch tender and affectionate, showing the love he felt for you.

When he reached your hair, he repeated the process, his fingers working the shampoo through your locks with the same care you had shown him. You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of his hands in your hair and the warmth of the water cascading over you.

For a while, the two of you stood there, simply enjoying the closeness and the rare moment of peace. The world outside might be filled with danger and uncertainty, but here, in this small bathroom, there was only love.

When you were both clean, you turned off the water and reached for a towel, wrapping it around Joel’s shoulders before taking another for yourself. You helped each other dry off, the intimacy of the moment deepening the existent bond between you.

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. "Thank you," he said softly.

You cupped his face in your hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "We’re in this together, Joel. Always."

He nodded, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Together," he echoed.

As you both stood there in the warmth of the bathroom, wrapped in towels and each other's embrace, the bond between you felt stronger than ever. The fear and uncertainty of the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the love and trust you had for each other.

Joel kissed the top of your head and took your hand, leading you back to the bedroom. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the bedroom, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. You both moved slowly, savoring the peaceful moment.

You helped Joel into bed, making sure he was comfortable before slipping in beside him. He pulled you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you. The simple act of being in his arms felt like the safest place in the world.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he spoke. "I love you so much," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I can ever put into words."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his eyes. "I love you too, Joel. So much."

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't think I've ever felt this way before. I mean, caring this much for someone. Not since Sarah. And it's... it's scary. But it's also the most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt."

Your heart ached for him at the mention of Sarah, but you knew how important it was for Joel to express his feelings. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubble. "It's okay to be scared, Joel. But you're not alone in this. We’re in it together."

Joel nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You've given me something I thought I’d lost forever. Hope. A reason to keep fighting. And I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can to protect you, to make sure we have a future together."

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "We’ll protect each other. And we’ll build that future, one day at a time."

He wrapped his arms around you tighter, holding you close as if trying to memorize the feeling of having you in his arms. "I promise you, I'll never let anything happen to you. You and Ellie mean everything to me."

You snuggled closer, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "And you mean everything to us, Joel. We're stronger together."

Joel sighed contentedly, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. "Thank you for standing by me, for believing in me. I don't know what I’d do without you."

You smiled against his chest, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you. "You'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere."

With that, you both drifted into a peaceful sleep, the worries of the world outside momentarily forgotten. In each other's arms, you found solace and strength, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

Hours later, Joel woke up in the middle of the night, the room shrouded in darkness. He instinctively reached out for you, but his hand found only empty space. Panic surged through him, his heart pounding as he sat up, his eyes scanning the room.

"Baby, where are you?" he muttered, throwing the blankets aside as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He quickly pulled on his pants and a shirt, his movements hurried and frantic. The fear of losing you, so deeply ingrained in his mind, took hold as he rushed out of the bedroom.

He moved swiftly down the hallway, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Had something happened? Had someone taken you? The thoughts were unbearable. He reached the top of the stairs and bolted down them, nearly stumbling in his haste.

When he reached the bottom, he paused, his eyes darting around the living room. Relief washed over him as he saw you sitting on the couch, a cup of tea cradled in your hands. You looked up, startled by his sudden appearance.

"Joel, what’s wrong?" you asked, concern etching your features.

He let out a shaky breath, his heart still racing. "I woke up and you weren’t there," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I thought something had happened to you."

You set your tea down on the table and stood up, crossing the room to him. "I’m sorry," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to make some tea. I didn’t mean to scare you."

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if to reassure himself that you were really there. "It’s okay," he murmured into your hair. "I just...I can’t bear the thought of losing you."

You held him just as tightly, feeling the intensity of his emotions. "You won’t lose me, Joel. I promise."

He nodded, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "I know. It’s just...sometimes the fear gets the better of me."

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "I understand," you said gently. "But we’re safe here. We have each other."

He sighed, the tension slowly easing from his body. "Yeah, we do."

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. "Sit with me for a while. The tea is still warm."

He followed you, sitting down beside you on the couch. You picked up your cup and handed it to him. "Here, takes a sip. It’ll help you relax."

He took the cup, his hands still slightly trembling. He sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through him, helping to calm his nerves. "Thanks," he said, his voice steadier.

You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "We’ll get through this, Joel. Together."

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. "Yeah, we will."

The two of you sat there in the quiet of the night, the warmth of the tea and the comfort of each other’s presence soothing the fears that had momentarily overwhelmed him. In that moment, Joel felt a renewed sense of peace, knowing that as long as you were by his side, he could face anything the future held.

As the minutes passed, the tension in Joel's body melted away. He looked down at you, your eyes closed, content and calm. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he whispered, the words carrying all the weight of his heart.

"I love you too," you replied softly, without opening your eyes.

Joel took another sip of the tea, its warmth soothing him from the inside out. The night was still and quiet, a rare tranquility enveloping your home. He gazed around the room, taking in the modest, yet comforting surroundings. This place, this sanctuary in Jackson, could become more than just a shelter. A home.

You snuggled closer to him, and Joel felt a profound sense of gratitude. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to truly believe in the possibility of a future filled with hope and love. The horrors of the past, the constant threats of the present, they all seemed a little more bearable with you by his side.

"We’ve been through so much," he said quietly, his fingers gently stroking your hair. "But sitting here with you, it makes it all worth it."

You opened your eyes and looked up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "We’ve found something real, Joel. Something worth fighting for. And no matter what comes our way, we’ll face it together."

Joel nodded, feeling the truth of your words settle deep within him. "Together," he echoed, his voice filled with conviction. "Always."

The two of you sat there in the stillness, the warmth of each other's presence a balm for your souls. Joel felt a sense of peace he hadn't known in years. With you, he had found a reason to hope, to believe in a better tomorrow.

As the night wore on, the exhaustion of the day began to catch up with him. You noticed his eyelids growing heavy and gently took the cup from his hands, setting it on the table. "Come on," you whispered, standing up and offering your hand. "Let’s get some rest."

Joel took your hand and allowed you to lead him back to the bedroom. The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, casting a warm light over the bed. You both slipped under the covers, and Joel pulled you close, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

With you in his arms, the fear and anxiety that had plagued him earlier faded away. The rhythm of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart against his chest, all served as a reminder of the love and strength you shared.

"Goodnight, Joel," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "Goodnight," he replied, pressing a final kiss to your forehead.

As he closed his eyes, Joel felt a deep sense of contentment. No matter what the future held, he knew that with you by his side, he could face it all. Together, you had built something beautiful amidst the chaos, and that was something worth holding on to.

In the quiet darkness, with you in his arms, Joel finally allowed himself to drift into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of the life you would continue to build together, one filled with love, hope, and endless possibilities.

[kivino]

kivi.. pls hear my vision. different situations where reader and ghost hug because he’s too afraid to say “i love you” at the moment, but both of you know what his hugs mean. PLEAAASEEE AGHH (and gn!reader ofc)

HUSH || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

Word counter - ~1k words

A/n - PLSS i love your idea so much, he'd be awfully awkward, but we love him for it <3333

ao3 link for this fic

The first time Simon hugged you like this, unprompted and spontaneous, you froze. He felt warm, huge, a bit awkward and out of place but genuine, true. He wanted to tell you so many things he had on his mind, but he just couldn’t, lips sealed under that skull balaclava, leaning into you and squeezing so hard you couldn’t even return the hug. Minutes spent in this position felt like a whole eternity.

“Simon, what are you…”

“Shut up.”

So, you did. Hearing his steady breathing close to your ear, even feeling his heartbeat against your chest…and how fast it was. He was nervous. That was surprisingly sweet. You felt a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth when you heard him exhale and squeeze you even tighter in his arms. You don’t question his behavior when he reluctantly lets you go.

Each hug he gives you feels like home. As you make your way back from the draining mission, Simon rests his arm around your shoulders and leans against you, while the two of you sit next to each other, finding comfort in each other’s presence. His head bumps into yours, so you shift slightly against him, and it finally slots in the crook of your neck. And then you realize. He’s sleeping. Soap, who’s sitting on the opposite side of you gives you a cheeky smile.

“Not a word.” You hiss at him, rolling your eyes.

Simon was rarely vulnerable. It was never the time or the place, after all, he dedicated his whole life to being a soldier – resourceful, capable, and strong. There wasn’t any space for his feelings. But with you, he always felt accepted. Whenever he needed you were right there, with your familiar features, warm smile, and open arms. And each time Simon found himself snaking his arms around your torso, closing his eyes, and inhaling your smell he caught himself thinking only one thing.

“I love you.”

He lost count of the times when he opened his mouth to finally say it, only to close it mere seconds later, rethinking his decision completely. Next time. Next time he’ll tell you. But that next time never comes. So, Simon remains stuck in this endless cycle of fruitless attempts to bare his soul for you, only to lose his voice and fall silent, hoping you’ll connect the dots yourself. Still, he was happy to be in your arms. And happiness likes silence, after all. So maybe his lack of words was for the best.

God, how much he loves you. Simon would spend his whole life in your embrace if he could, not a worry in the world as he basks in your warmth, something he craved desperately for years now. Something that would probably fill this gaping hole in his chest after he lost so much. He didn’t like being this walking one-man pity party he felt he was sometimes, but you made it easier. Simon had no idea how you just wormed your way into his heart so swiftly, but he’d take it. Whatever it was about you, you were special to him, and he was not letting you go.

“Earth to Simon, you there?” You look up at him from the tight embrace he once again trapped you in while smoking on the balcony. The night was surprisingly cold, so instead of lending you his jacket, Simon just pulled you in for an embrace, telling you to clasp your arms behind his back. You enjoyed this alone time with him, and you prayed that he wouldn’t pick up on your staring. One of the few times when he finally takes off his damn mask, and you’re worried about him catching onto you looking. And how could you not? His eyes looked like boundless, hypnotizing abyss in the glow of a flickering lightbulb.

“Simon to Earth, how copy?” He smirks, noticing your prolonged stare, and you see the embers of mischief dancing in his irises. Now it was his turn to tease you. Bastard. He chuckles at the sight of you flustered.

“Oh, fuck off.” You let go of him, getting out of the warm hug and giving his chest a slight push. Simon should know better than to tease you. You immediately feel significantly colder than before, but instead of returning to his embrace, you shove your hands in the pockets of your trousers. His eyes flicker towards your huddled form, but he doesn’t say anything, once again.

Simon doesn’t say anything even when you’re laying on top of him, like a weighted blanket, making his mind wander in a sleepy daze. He drinks up every single detail in front of him, the way your eyelashes flutter, the warmth you’re radiating, or how your face is pressed against his chest. Simon is more than sure that if you were awake right now, you could hear how fast his heart beats for you. It’s embarrassing, really. But Simon just can’t help himself. So, he squeezes you even tighter with one arm, his fingers lingering on your hair with a feather-light touch.

Maybe…maybe right now is the time. You’re sleeping. You won’t hear him anyway and he’ll be able to get so much weight off his shoulders. Simon feels something inside his chest ache, a bittersweet feeling rolling on his tongue. He knew it was foolish, but he needed that. Simon could already feel his insides tossing and turning in this uncomfortable, anxious anticipation of…something. He wasn’t quite sure of what.

But it’s now or never. So, he cranes his neck slightly and his lips touch your forehead for a short second. The touch is intimate and bashful, but it sends euphoric butterflies right through his stomach, along with that sweet, tender ache in his chest.

“I love you” Simon manages to whisper, as he lays back down, trying not to disturb your sleep any more than he already has. A shaky breath escapes his lips. He did it. He actually did it. Simon closes his eyes with another exhale, not even catching the way a faint smile appears on your face.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 17)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3058

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16)

Notes: heyyyy what do you know, i found it in me to get this part out. im proud.

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You never been one to throw caution to the wind, but with what sits before you, the urge is strong.

Animals were one of the first things to go when disease swept across the world, which is why it’s so difficult not to pick up the juicy chicken breast that’s steaming on the plate in front of you, and completely ravage it.

Your mouth waters at the sight. There are greens, too. A blend of spinach and vegetables cooked to perfection in animal fat. It’s the first real meal you’ve seen in…fuck you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve seen real meat like this, nor food that wasn’t expired and from a can.

The only thing keeping your restraint in place is your companions' determination. The sprinkle of common sense that hasn’t fizzled into a ravenous beast at the scent of your meal is easy to overlook, but Azriel’s menacing presence beside you isn’t. His back is ramrod straight in his own seat, and the food doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest. He’s undeterred by their taunts. Instead, his woody eyes drink in your surroundings for the umpteenth time, as if there might be a hint as to what’s really going on here. 

On your other side, you’re flanked by Cassian, who does look like he’s struggling to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the juicy thigh on his plate, however little it might be. It’s more than he’s had to eat in days, months, and he wants it so fucking badly.

In fact, no one’s touching their food, which is a red flag of itself, but your head is swimming at the smells, your stomach a mess of knots that loosen at the idea of food, and tighten at the thought of where your best friend could be.

You’re also a little afraid, if you’re being honest, of getting sick should you eat something this…real after having gone so long without.

Nesta watches you from across the table with a piercing stare. There’s a malice you’ve become accustomed to being fed in the little time you’ve known her. You understand that she’s worried for her sister, out there with little protection, but you’re worried too. You feel as if Feyre is your sister as well. You’ve been winning your own little war against the undead for too long to remember.

At her side is who you can only decern to be her lover, Eris. You ponder their relationship, what you saw in the woods. Perhaps they’re nothing more than companions, but with the way the auburn-haired man keeps stealing glances at her, worry etched in his brow, you know there must be more.

The chair beside Eris is filled with a near clone of him. They have twin eyes and looks of caution on their fox-shaped faces. The unnamed man wears his hair long down his back, a single braid hangs down the side of his face. It’s not a nice one, practiced, but messy, like whoever put it there was distracted more often than not during styling. The only differentiator is the color of their skin, because even the shape of their eyes and their stature is eerily similar. It’s clear that they are nothing like their scumbag of a father, and the thought of Beron alone makes you shiver in your seat.

There’s an empty seat beside him, and you can’t help the stab of guilt you feel at the sight of it. You don’t know if they’ve lost someone important to their little unit they have going on here, or if there’s a reason for the unoccupied seat.

Cassian’s stomach growls loudly, breaking the terse silence. 

“Everything is safe to eat, I can assure you,” Eris mentions after clearing his throat. Nesta shoots him a look that could make even a zombie cower, but he must be used to it because he takes the betraying look with grace, gently settling a palm onto her lap.

Nesta doesn’t shove it away like you expect her to. Instead, her lips go razor thin. The pair stare at each other so intensely that you feel like you’re intruding on something monumental.

Eventually, Nesta breaks. With a sharp inhalation, she turns her gaze to you. She doesn’t look happy, but at least she doesn’t look like she wants to reach across the table and maul you for losing her sister.

“Eat,” she all but demands. She cringes, grits her teeth, and adds like the words are truly poison in her mouth, “Please.”

“You’ll excuse us if we don’t trust you,” Azriel replies curtly. Your eyes soften as they land on him, even if his gaze is trained on your hosts. Weeks ago, he’d been wary of you, and now he’s here protecting you from the outsiders that are holding you captive.

You’ve never been so thankful for him, and you remind yourself to thank him for it later.

“Don’t eat, then.” Nesta shrugs as if his words don’t bother her in the slightest. Your whereabouts of Feyre seem to have caught her off guard because right now she is the perfect poise of excellence. Her nature could give any queen a run for their crown.

She’s the first one to dig into her meal. She uses the cutlery as if they’re weapons, tearing into the meat with a force that has you praying to any higher being that Feyre and Rhys are on their way to you, because you do not want to be on the other end of Nesta’s knife.

Your eyes flicker back down to your plate, to the shiny silverware placed on either side of your plate. Hell, you’re not even sure you remember how to use them anymore, with how long you’ve had to make do on the road.

“Please, eat,” Eris counters with a stern look that doesn’t affect Nesta in the slightest. Eris motions to his brother and they both pick up their forks, as if trying to show you everything is okay.

“I don’t trust the animals, either,” Azriel responds.

“How about the vegetables, then?” Eris offers, and you think you catch a glint of pleading in his amber eyes. You think he’s trying to keep things civil and calm for Nesta’s sake. You’re sure she’s worried to pieces about her littlest sister out there when the sun is so close to hiding away for another night of hell. “The animals are perfectly healthy, though I assure you the food will not go to waste if you don’t eat it.”

“How are they safe?” Cassian questions, grimacing down at the meat. You know that he out of everyone in your little group needs it the most. You’ve seen his protruding ribs only yesterday, and with him being the biggest in your group, he needs the nutrients more than anyone.

A sudden urge of protectiveness washes over you. You want him safe and healthy, want both him and Azriel safe and happy, and you wish more than anything that you could give it to them.

Only time will tell.

Eris gives a very diplomatic response. “My family has owned this land for generations,” he starts, and you don’t like to think of how he is Beron’s son. It makes all of the desperation to eat, subside. “We have been raising and breeding our own meat and dairy for just as long. They have never showed signs of disease, but perhaps it’s because they live a life unknowing of what goes on in this world.” You’re not following, but Eris continues before your confusion causes you to blurt out questions.

“My brother—Lucien,” he nods toward his brother beside him. “Takes care of them. When our father first heard the mumblings of a pandemic so devastating, the world as we knew it would never be the same, he built a bunker of sorts, where we continue to monitor and raise our animals to this day.”

“That was about the only smart thing he ever did,” Lucien mumbles, looking green at the mention of his father.

You get the feeling.

Azriel says, “Yeah, we’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting the bastard.”

Lucien’s utensils fall to the table with a clang that startles you in your seat. He looks sick to his stomach, his ying-yang eyes drawn down to his plate in shame. His shoulders are stiff and he’s gone so still you think he might be comatose, turning into a zombie right in front of your very eyes.

“You’ve met him?” Lucien asks, and he sounds like a little boy, reliving a trauma so ghastly that it’s altered his brain chemistry.

“Met him, killed him,” Azriel shrugs as if it was no big feat. Your stomach roils at the memory and you must look paler than normal because Cassian’s placing a. warm hand over yours in comfort. Azriel’s brashness isn’t new to you, but the reminder is too fresh. You try to focus on your hand in Cassian’s, offering him a weak smile.

The tension in the air seems to disperse with Azriel’s words. You’re pretty sure you see Lucien’s shoulders physically drop in relief, like he feels the same way you do about his father. Eris sits in his seat, stunned, but he doesn’t look upset about the news, he looks more disappointed, like he missed out on being the one to kill the crazy cannibal.

“Well, I think this calls for the good wine,” Nesta says, and you swear you see the corners of her mouth threaten to tug into a satisfied smirk.

She glances at you from across the table, and you pick up your fork.

You hope that this is the first of many things that you will agree with her on.

There is little conversation while you eat. Azriel’s brows are drawn in tight, and his mouth is set in a hard line. He keeps glancing over at you with a scolding heat in his eyes, but there’s a sliver of worry that makes you ache, like he thinks you might keel over from the chicken.

If you do, you’re not even sure you’ll be mad. It’s good fucking chicken.

You try to savor it, to eat slowly so that your body doesn’t reject the first real meal you’ve had in forever, but you can hardly control yourself. You feel like a rabid animal, hungry enough to gnaw your own arm off. You wonder if this is what the zombies outside feel like, an insatiable hunger, or if they’re so mindless they don’t feel anything at all.

You reckon you have only minutes before the food makes its reappearance, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you slide your silverware onto your empty plate, trying to deter yourself from leaning forward and licking it clean.

Cassian has no such reservations.

“How long has it been since you’ve tried to contact my sister?” Nesta asks when the three of you have finished. Even Azriel couldn’t help but clear his plate, though he did take the longest of the three of you, more than mindful of your captors.

It makes your heart swell that he has kept an eye out for you and Cassian.

Azriel and Cassian share a look over your head, debating how much to indulge. But this is Feyre’s sister, and they want to find her and Rhys just as much, so they relent.

“We tried getting through to them this afternoon, before we ran into you,” Cassian explains. “They were too far out of range.”

“Call them again,” she demands, and Eris opens his mouth to protest but Nesta is clearly done with niceties. “No,” she snaps at the man beside her. “We have given them a place to stay and a warm meal. It’s time for them to do something in return.”

You don’t mention how you didn’t have a choice but to be here, and that they wouldn’t have had to give up their food if you were still wandering out in the woods, but your stomach is too full to argue that point.

Cassian tugs the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switches it on. The static is loud, and you all wait in anticipation until the signal calms a bit before he clicks the button on the side and makes the call. “Rhys? Feyre? Are you out there?”

It’s like waiting for a cure as the six of you listen to the channel. Nothing comes through, and Cassian calls again, to no avail.

“We’ll keep trying,” he says, a determined look in his eye. You’re pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping Nesta in her seat, because she looks like she will reach across the table and stab you with her knife.

Movement in the corner of your eye makes you flinch. Cassian’s arm reaches out to block you and Azriel’s already halfway out of his seat, ready to tear you away from the threat that stumbles into the doorway.

The threat comes in the form of what must be Feyre’s other sister, Elain. She looks ghastly, skin as white as sheet, and as well-fed as Eris’ claims them to be, she’s all skin and bones. Her brown eyes are dull and sunken, purple-rimmed as if she hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep in years. Her blonde-brown hair sits limp on her head, knotted at the back, as if she’s been drained of all of the health in her life.

She looks like a zombie.

Nesta jumps from her chair at the same time Lucien does, the both of them rushing for Elain. Lucien gets to her first, catching her just as her knees give out and scooping her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest as if the effort to keep it upright is a burden too much, but her dazed gaze sharpens when it lands on you.

You’re frozen in your seat. You have no words for what you’re seeing, the sickly girl who looks closer to death than a zombie. Your heart pounds a thousand miles a minute in your chest, and your fingers are white-knuckled with confusion and fear where they’re wrapped around Cassian’s forearm.

Elain’s brown eyes widen in a way that looks unnatural for her once beautiful face. Her cracked lips form husky words that are so ominous it has the hair on your body standing on end.

“Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black. One has an injured wing.”

Lucien hushes her softly, murmuring to her as he removes her from the room. “Shh, Elain. Let’s get you back to bed, petal. You shouldn’t be expending so much energy until you’re feeling better.”

Guilt stabs you a thousand times over as he takes her away. It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots with what you’ve seen. How sickly she looks, the faraway look and ramblings that don’t make sense.

“When did it happen?” You blurt, eyes darting from a stoney-faced Nesta to a grimacing Eris to the door Lucien and Elain disappeared through. You don’t like the feeling that overcomes you, the one that wants you to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible.

Something isn’t right here.

“It’s late,” Nesta states, looking between the three of you like she’s deciding how she’s going to kill each of you. You suppose she might, if she feels any sort of threat to her sister. For now, she needs you alive, if only to help find her other sister. She won’t dump any of you out yet, unless you can’t prove your worth.

Not unless Feyre is dead.

Azriel tucks you carefully behind him, more than aware of the threat before you. You can tell that he’s just as confused as you are. There’s a tightness to his shoulders that you don’t like, an edge to the strain of his body that screams danger.

His mouth opens to speak, but he’s cut off by the sudden voice that comes over the walkie-talkie.

“Cassian? Azriel? Do you copy?” Rhys’ panicked voice sounds through the machine. More than one emotion threatens to consume you, relief and worry. The full meal in your belly swarms like crashing waves, and you might just throw up after all.

Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta all lunge for the radio. Eris gets his hand around Nesta’s bicep and pulls her away, much to her reluctance. She claws against him but he’s only keeping her away from the three of you, still very much a threat.

Not that you’d be of any assistance should either party try to attack. You’ve collapsed in the closest chair.

“Rhys?” Cassian calls back, just as frantic. His terrified hazel eyes are locked with Azriel’s, and it’s all the black-haired boy can do to console Cassian with a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Where the fuck are you?”

It wouldn’t mean much to Nesta, who’s given up her struggling to listen into what’s happening, but to Cassian, you know the touch means everything.

Anticipation skyrockets throughout the room, bringing the temperature up to boiling as you await his response. Each second feels like an eternity, and you’re sure the vein throbbing on Nesta’s forehead is about to explode when Rhysand finally responds.

It sounds like he’s running. You pray that’s not a groan of the undead you hear in the background. “Fuck,” he curses in such a hopeless way that makes your heart drop to the floor. Whatever he’s about to say, it’s not going to be good. “I need you to come find us. I don’t know where the fuck we are, but we need help.”

Azriel rips the walkie-talkie from Cassian’s hand, ready to take the lead. He pockets one of the knives at the table and you can’t even muster the energy to joke about how a butterknife won’t be the best weapon against a horde of zombies because you’re more than ready to follow him into the fray, sans weapons, if all to save your friends.

“Where are you, Rhys? I need landmarks.”

 “Az,” Rhys breathes, but he doesn’t sound relieved. In fact, he sounds spent, and there’s no sign of Feyre on the other line. “We need help. Badly. Feyre’s been bitten.”

And hey, your dinner does make its reappearance after all.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02  @azrielsbabyg  @arcadianmoonlight  @pradaxstyles  @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion  @fuckthatfeeling  @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001  @fallmyriad  @sstrohma  @tcris2020 @jeannineee  @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace (i hope you see this idk if this tag worked 😭)

IDK if any of these tags are going to work but someone plz lmk 💙

[sukunas-wife]

the Dadkuna series is great!!! Sukuna isn’t my main character that I like in jjk but this series has me SAT and WAITING for the next upload! I’ve always wondered though what momkuna and dadkuna’s relationship dynamic is. We get that sort of in how they met but what about when their relationship is established? I get the sense that obviously dadkuna would quite literally do anything for her but what exactly goes through his mind when he thinks about her?

Oh? Guess whose back 😎🤧

Me- I’m sickly too 🤭 but! The blog is picking up 🥺 and I’ve been working on this for a good time so here you go 🤍🤍🤍

(Indentions are thoughts, things he didn’t actively say out loud 🥺🤍)

Lord Ryomen Sukuna, though emotionally stunted and constipated, loves his wife. Would level cities and kill men easily if she didn’t have such a strong hold in him.

But he’s a misogynist at heart to an extent. He wants you at home with his kids being his cute little wife that he knows he can always come home to. It was your overwhelming passion for helping women who couldn’t bear children that convinced him he could let you live your life, as long as he knew he had people there to look over you when he couldn’t.

He appreciates the fact that when he’s tired, covered in blood that’s not his own, and carrying the exhaustion of his war ridden day, there you are rushing to him when he enters his temple. Disregarding your fine silk robes and the blood partly way on his body. The way you cling to him, always so happy and relieved to see him come home.

The first time he came home after being gone for so long, he remembers how you cried and held on to him, your anguished filled cries when you cried about how you thought he was never coming back, how you were scared he’d left you alone. He remembers how his hands found your waits holding you a bit away, another hand coming to cup your face, thumb wiping away your tears when he looked at you with tired eyes, “It would take the militia of this land's greatest sorcerers to even consider preventing my way back to your embrace.” Your teary eyes softened before you buried your face in his chest again hugging him and clinging to him.

He longed for that feeling of your embrace whenever he would leave you behind, he could deny it but on his way home to you, his heart ached and longed to feel your embrace and hear your praises of how he had returned. You cried no more because you were filled with that confidence he would always return.

——————

He’s a traditional man with his one form of values, not once did he long for sexual pleasure or was he consumed with lust. Misery, pain and the screams of his victims fueled him and filled him with an immense pleasure no woman’s body could ever possibly offer him.

They were all the same, sultry, scandalous, attention seeking harlots, prostitutes and women. Thinking they could better their lives if they could slip into his bed. They were wrong, every woman who he allowed to enter his bed chamber under these pretences had walked in with starry eyes and ambition. Only to cry and scream for their life while he slowly dug his nails into their flesh tearing them all apart, slowly and agonisingly. That was until he saw you that one day, any girl of age would’ve started to present themselves to him in shy or subtle ways hoping to catch his eyes. There you were kneeling out of respect in his presence, scared you had offended your lord.

‘Oh? Is this little morsel afraid?’ Fear filled and humbling yourself before him. You couldn’t look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of “I want to sleep with this man.” And yet these feelings caused a sentiment in the depths of his chest, something stirred inside him, you head captured his interest (non sexual at this point). ‘Hmm?, this will be a fine pet to break.’

You were a phenomenon in the temple, one he wanted to study, to take into his clawed hands and mould, twist, stretch and push to the edge and then just over the point of breaking to see what would become of you. Yet, once he had you in hands reach, once you were close enough for him to graze your skin with his nails… he didn’t treat you like a common daisy or water Lilly, no he took you into his hands like a Lotus floating on the water's surface. Making elegant work and taking care of your delicate bloom. You would be his delicate lotus that no one else would ever take the joy in having.

——————

“My gratifying queen, My delicate lotus, My benevolent wife.” Words he doesn’t speak so freely, he whispers them against your skin whenever you’d sleep by his side.

Delicate words and honeyed names had never once crossed his mind in his existence. Yet here he was, allowing himself to indulge in the smallest amount of vulnerability with these words. The press of his feverish kisses against your neck and cheeks between every word.

‘My little beloved pet, so tired, sleeping away the wares of today. How could something so small and insignificant like you cause this shift in my existence hm?’

The back of his hand brushing hair away from your face, nails grazing the side of your face lightly, he held you in his embrace watching you. Two arms securely around you, one supporting his head, the other kept grazing your skin. You’d stir in your sleep when he shifted slightly away from you to lay on his back. You’d become so used to his body heat even on the hottest days you’d search him out half awake.

‘My little lotus,’ he closed the space between you, pulling you into his side again, ‘rest your weary head without worries of tomorrow, I’m here to hold you now.’

He wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t even know it at that moment, but he was absolutely smitten with you in ways he had yet to comprehend. But it showed in his subconscious movements. A hand on your lower back or waist guiding you, knowing you’re close and safe.

Bringing home little jewels and trinkets he’d usually never spare a second glance . That is until a stone sparkles in the light of his flames and he stops briefly to take a close look.

My queen would look Devine with these adorning her neck. These stones would make fine pieces for my wife.

It was a shock when he came home one night waking you when he sat on the bed. You sat up sleepily while he handed you a bag of precious stones and jewels telling you he had brought you a gift, a free hand of his brushing your hair back and bringing you closer by the back of your head so he could kiss your lips.

——————

It was your wedding, there you were standing beside him in the Ceremonial Robes. You stood on his right, his eyes looking down at you.

Hmm, What an enticing display, to have my little pet dressed up so exquisitely for all to see and admire.

Even more enticing to know soon you’ll be round with my child, what an ethereal sight you will be laid out in silk robes and swollen carrying my legacy

My delicate little lotus, my malevolent queen, my gratifying and honourable wife. Perhaps these thoughts never be spoken aloud with heavy sentiment. But I vow myself to you in this instant, that I will do all to assure our future, our health, our children and our endless lives.

I will assure your hand never be left cold nor alone as long as I can take it. nor will it ever be lifted in vain or to labour. Your stomach is never empty as I will assure you have the finest wine and a feast every night if it’s what your little human heart desires, your head will always have a place to rest even if it is only on my chest. Your nights will never be cold, your days will never be short, your loneliness will exist no longer, and your heart will be mine, and mine will be yours.

It wasn’t all he told himself, but it was in the moment you felt a warm sensation against your skin, on your chest below the centre of your collar bone but above your breast was the same mark you’d seen on his tongue very few times.

Ryomen Sukuna DID NOT enjoy the thought of staining your teeth black, instead he took your hand, as if vowing and brains you, the ring finger of your left hand, the base faded to a black band, above it a snark mark matching your chest and another thin black bank, just below your nail was another black band. That’s how your little husband decided to present you as his.

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken :( @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

[buckyshoneybunny]

Their Babydoll

WinterWidow + Shy!Stark!Curvy!reader 

Summary- Bucky and Natasha take a liking to the shy designer. 

W.C.- 2212 

Warnings- Smut, fluff, cursing, unprotected sex, oral (fem, reader), cum eating, let me know if I missed anything. 

A/N- I hope you guys like! Sorry if the smut sucks, I was tired lol. I know these fics are usually Bucky x Reader x Steve but I would want Nat more. Anyway I already have an idea for a new series and it includes Biker Bucky! Not proof read, all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy it my lovelies!  

Masterlist 

“Please Uncle Tony!” You beg for the hundredth time.  

“No,” he says, not even looking up from the device he was tweaking.  

“But-” 

“No,” he interrupts you.  

You stick your bottom lip out and give your best puppy eyes. It would always work when you were younger. Now though? 

“No”  

You groan and cross your arms. You smile to yourself. “You know, Aunt Pepper has been wondering what happened to her-” 

“Okay! Okay,” he sighs and pushes the protective glasses further up his nose as he looks at you. “There’s no need to bring Pepper into this.” 

You giggle and lean your hip against the table he’s working at. “You always were afraid of Aunt Pepper.” 

“I’m not afraid of her,” he huffs. “I just happen to have a healthy amount of respect for her.”  

“You’re afraid of her, Tony,” Bruce pipes up from across the lab.  

You giggle as Tony sends you and Bruce a glare.  

“Why do you even want to use the holographic interfaces?” Tony asks. 

“Because it would make designing floor plans so much easier! Using your tech would help me with the critical parts of my job.”  

“But you don’t even know how to use them.” 

“You could teach me.” 

“But I don’t hav-” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he huffs.  

You squeal and hug him. “Thank you, Uncle Tony!”  

He pats your arm, “Yeah yeah.” 

Most people didn’t know Tony had a sister; hell no one knew he actually had any siblings until you showed up with your stuff one rainy day. 

Freshly 19 and ready to make a name for yourself in the world of Interior Design, you’d moved to New York thinking this was the best place to do so. 

Your mother, Tony’s younger sister only by a few years, called to express her worry of you moving there and being alone.  

So, Tony being the ever so giving person he is, and a few not-so-subtle threats from your mother, told you that you could stay at the Avengers Tower. You were furious, ranting about how you wanted to make it on your own and didn’t need any help. But when he mentioned you’d get to meet and spend time with the Avengers, you quickly got over it. 

You were so excited to meet the Avengers, you’d always had a major crush on Bucky. You even wrote a paper about him for your history class in the 6th grade. His sparkling steel blue eyes taking you captive. You wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through his shoulder length brown hair, hoping it’s as soft as it looks. And you can’t forget those full, pink lips that could make a gal melt like butter on hot asphalt.  

But he was taken, by your second favorite Avenger, Natasha Romanoff. You definitely had a girl crush on her. She was so strong and skilled, every womans idol. She was the reason you tried and failed at learning how to fight. So what if you were thicker than the other girls? Yeah okay, you had thick thighs, a pudgy, soft stomach and flabby arms, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t learn some moves like the other girls. To be fair though, that instructor was a womanizer. 

He said, and I quote, that you’d ‘never make it anywhere in life looking like that’. Boy did you prove him wrong. You were one of the best Interior Designers in New York, you had a special touch that other designers didn’t have. And you loved your job, you loved bringing peoples dreams to life and seeing the joy on their face.  

You enjoyed it, but it wasn’t always easy. The meticulous planning, writing up contracts, getting a crew for certain aspects in and out on time could be grueling at times, but seeing the looks on your client’s faces when they’d see the finished product was always worth it.  

You had been worried when you first got to the Tower, worried the other Avengers wouldn’t like you. It was all for nothing though because they absolutely loved you, you were a part of their dysfunctional family now and they had no plans of letting you go. Everyone had really taken a liking to you, especially Bucky and Natasha. 

When you introduced yourself to them with your cheeks flushed, hands nervously fidgeting behind your back, and your shy little voice, it made Natasha want to wrap her arms around you and protect you from the world.  

But, on the other hand, seeing your long thick thighs on display, juicy ass just barely covered by the shorts you wore, and your tank top that hugged your curves just right made her’s and Bucky’s mouths water. That body paired with your shy, innocent demeanor made them want to swallow you whole. 

They had been happy just the two of them, rekindling their love once they both were free. They never thought about having someone else in their relationship, never wanted anyone else, until you.  

One knowing look and desire fill conversation later they knew they had to have you. They just had to be careful so they wouldn’t scare you away, and make sure Tony didn’t find out and do something crazy. He was very protective of you. 

So, the next couple of years were spent with heated looks, lingering touches, and subtle hints thrown at you that you never seem to catch. They were tired of this game of chase, frustrated and on a level of horny so high that they couldn’t fuck down no matter how hard they tried. Bucky was this close to fucking up against the closest wall, Natasha not far behind. But they’d soon get what they longed for.  

You studied your reflection in the mirror again. The thin strapped, black dress that stopped mid-thigh, and had a slit going up your left thigh, hugged your body perfectly. You wouldn’t normally wear something so revealing but Wanda said this dress was perfect.  

She’d said you’d definitely be getting fucked tonight. She may or may not have read Bucky and Natasha’s minds and knew this dress would make them lose it.  

Tonight was Sam’s birthday party, although his birthday wasn’t for two more days, he’d be in Louisiana visiting his sister so Steve wanted to throw him a party before he left.  

Making sure your curls were perfect, you sprayed on some perfume and put some black heels on and headed down to the floor the party was being held at. 

Natasha and Bucky were sat at the bar area, formulating a plan on how to make you theirs. Natasha wore an off the shoulder, floor length, blood red dress that fit her just right, with matching lipstick and heels.  

Bucky had a tailor-made, black suit that showed his defined muscles. His face clean-shaven, displaying his sharp jaw and his hair tied back in that low, sexy bun he’s always sporting.  

Natasha was the first to see you, choking on her drink as she takes you in, causing Bucky to follow her line of sight. His cock rock hard instantly. She bit her lip and one shared glance; they knew tonight was the night and they had just the plan to do it. 

You lock eyes with Natasha and she beckons you over.  

“Look at you, firefly,” she grins and you blush.  

Bucky whistles and looks you up and down. “You’d give poor old Steve a heart attack in that dress, doll. You look amazing.”  

“You think so?” You shyly ask. 

“Definitely,” Natasha adds.  

You begrudgingly do a shot with them after the persisted you do at least one to help loosen you up, even though they knew you didn’t like alcohol. They didn’t leave your side the rest of the night, not that you minded, you loved being the center of their attention. They were waiting for the perfect moment to sneak you away, that moment came after the cake and presents, everyone having gone back to drinking and dancing.  

Natasha loops her arm with yours. “So, firefly,” she smirks. “Me and Bucky were thinking of changing up our room, think you could help us?” There a devious sparkle in her eyes that you miss. 

Your eyes light up. “Yes!” You smile.  

They lead you away from the party and up to their room. Once inside Bucky locks the door. You look around as Natasha comes up behind you and puts her hands on your waist. She runs her nose up the side of your neck, taking in the scent of your perfume. You freeze. 

“Nat?” You ask on a shaky whisper.  

“Yes, firefly?” She nibbles on your ear, causing you to shudder. 

Bucky stands in front of you and cups your face, tilting your head to make you look at him. His lips inches from yours. Your follow-up question gets stuck in your throat. 

“Do you know,” Bucky starts, leaning forward to nudge his nose with yours. 

“How long we’ve been waiting for you?” Natasha finishes, kissing your shoulder. 

“What?” You ask through the already forming fog in your brain. 

“We want you, firefly. Will you let us have you?” She slides her hands up to just under your boobs, waiting for your consent. You whimper and nod. 

“Words doll,” Bucky says. 

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.  

Bucky smashes his lips to yours as Natasha cups your boobs, squeezing them. You moan and grab Bucky’s forearms.  

He steps back and takes his suit jacket off, instructing Nat to take your dress off. She slowly unzips the dress and pushes the straps off your shoulders. It gets bunched around your middle, you blush, insecurities sneaking up on you. She just pushes it the rest of the way down. 

Your hands itch to cover yourself but stop when Bucky lets out a deep groan. He whispers a fuck and reaches down to squeeze his throbbing cock. You let out a whine. 

“Get on the bed and spread those gorgeous thighs, doll,” he rasps. His eyes black with lust. Your bra and panties come off and you get on the bed, laying on your back and shyly spreading your thighs.  

Natasha moans. “Look at her Buck.” He hums and pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulder, revealing she had nothing on underneath. He groans and kisses her; she unbuttons his shirt. You whine, more slick coming out and coating your folds. They break apart and grin. 

While Bucky finishes taking his clothes off, Natasha comes beside you and starts to play with your breasts, pinching and tugging your nipples causing you to moan. Bucky, now naked, kneels between your legs, taking in the sight of your soaked pussy.  

“Already so wet and we’ve hardly touched you babydoll,” he taunts. You whine, the feeling of his hot breath causing you to shudder. 

“Don’t tease her Buck,” Natasha says as she takes one of your nipples into her mouth.  

She nips lightly at the bud as Bucky presses his tongue to your clit, you let out a high-pitched moan and grip his hair. As she teases your nipples, Bucky eats you out like a starved man, mumbling out how good you taste in between slurps and gasps of breath. 

Bucky can’t handle it anymore and stands up before you can cum. “I gotta be in you, doll, fuck.” He gets in between your legs and lines his leaking tip up with your entrance.  

He slowly slides in and your eyes roll back. He gives you a second once he bottoms out, letting you adjust. Natasha rubs your clit as he starts to move. 

“How does she feel?” She asks 

“S’fucking good, so tight, shit” He groans and pounds into you. 

Natasha oscillates between making out with you and sucking you breasts and leaving hickies. She keeps rubbing your clit. You grip the sheets, panting and moaning. Bucky angles his thrusts just right and you scream as he hits that spot inside of you that causes you to see stars. 

“I-I’m go-....gonna...” You can’t even finish your sentence. 

He speeds up his thrusts, “Cum, doll, soak my cock.” 

Your eyes roll back and your back arches as you squirt, soaking his balls, thighs, and the bed. His hips stutter as he cums unexpectedly, he rides out both of your highs, his cock not softening at all.  

Natasha motions for him to pull, when he does, she immediately gets between your legs and eats you out, moaning at the taste of your slick and Bucky’s cum. He groans and starts to fuck her. 

This goes on for hours, both of them pull orgasms out of you. By the end of it, you lay cuddle between them, exhausted. They say that they want you to be a part of their relationship, you agree, feeling like you’re dreaming. The two people you’ve had the biggest crush on actually wanted you to be with them, you couldn’t have been happier. 

When Tony finds out he whacks both Natasha and Bucky in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper. He also now carries a spray bottle with him for when y’all get a little too handsy.  

All in all you’re living your dream and you couldn’t be happier.

[artaxlivs]

Eddie just knows how to get under everyone’s skin. It’s his superpower. He’s always been great at it. Knows how to piss people off so they’ll leave him alone. Knows how to talk to his flock to motivate or inspire fear. But then...Steve fucking Harrington happened. And he thought he knew. He thought - I’m gonna get up in this jock’s space and make him uncomfortable, make him shy away in fear of Eddie touching or flirting or smiling. 

But Steve flirts back. Figures out that touching Eddie makes him skittish. No one ever touches Eddie. He’s forged his relationships on keeping people at a distance. But Steve doesn’t follow any rules. He’s not like everyone else in Eddie’s life. He’s not afraid of repulsed or annoyed. Or maybe he is and he doesn’t care? 

However it is, he’s figured out that trailing a hand across the small of Eddie’s back will make him shiver, that Steve tugging gently on his hair as he walks by elicits a groan from him, that Steve manhandling Eddie when he’s being obnoxious and in the way makes him pliant and easy.

So Steve fucking Harrington gets under his skin. On purpose. Eddie knows its on purpose. He can see a gleam in Steve’s eye every time. What’s he supposed to do though? Call him out? Ask him out? Run and hide? That seems like the best option for awhile but he’s afraid Steve would just hunt him down.

It’s a Wednesday when it happens. Eddie finally calls Steve’s bluff. But he can’t do it in a normal way because he’s Eddie and he’s nothing if not a mess of a human being. So when Steve puts his hands on Eddie’s hips and bodily moves him to the side so he can reach over him to pull a glass out of the cabinet, Eddie turns to him, bats his eyelashes and simpers in a high obnoxious voice, “Oh, I do love a big strong man who can handle me.”

And Steve. This fucker. This absolute fucker. Instead of being weirded out like most guys would, instead of backing off or playing it off or, hell, telling Eddie off, Steve smirks, puts his hands back on Eddie’s hips, leans in way too close and says softly but with so much promise, “Oh, I can handle you if you really want, Munson.” His fingers dig in as he squeezes Eddie’s hips through his jeans, “Gotta say please though.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he lets out an embarrassing whimper. Sure he looks like a deer caught in headlights. Knows that his pants are slowly becoming uncomfortable - particularly in the front region. He can’t pass this up, though, right? That would be crazy. So he stutters out, “P-p-please?”

And that’s how Eddie Munson loses his virginity in Steve Harrington’s kitchen, Because, as it turns out, Steve wasn’t bluffing. And maybe Eddie doesn’t mind if Steve gets in his personal space. In fact, Steve can get in Eddie’s “personal space” twice a day for the rest of their lives if he wants. Give Eddie an hour and he’ll get in Steve’s “personal space” this time.

******

That’s it for this drabble but feel feel to check out my Masterlist or if you want more Soft Dom Steve check out Destroy the Silence (Drummer Steve) and If Eddie on top is more your thing, I’d suggest  An Accidental Flogging. No matter what you read this week - happy reading and I hope it’s time well spent!

[urdreamydoodles]

Hello hello hello darling!!

How are you? Well,i hope?

Introducing myself,I am Nina or weewoo,self proclaimed platonic asker!!

I saw your requests for X-Men were open,so i jumped right in,as it's my current hyperfixation!! So here it is:

Could i pretty please have Wolverine,Scott,Jean,Kurt,Ororo,Remy,Anne-Marie,Hank,Kevin,Lucas,Charles and Erik with a Child!Gn!Reader (if you don't want to write a child!reader,an adult reader is fine!) that's literally a ball of sunshine,always being positive and able to light up a room,always being clingy- but after a really bad mission/day,they just- dim? They become a hollow version of themselves,becoming scared,silent and depressing,distancing themselves from the others and overall just being the opposite of what they were? And the X-men are just trying their best to cheer them back up and are just so relieved to see them slowly go back to normal? Just a little hurt/comfort :3

Anyways i hope you enjoy writing this ask!

Feel free to tweak it (if you don't write for certain characters,If you want to write for more/other characters etc..)!!

Don't forget to eat,drink and have breaks!

Stay Proud,

-Nina <33

X-Men x Child!Reader

You lose your zest for life after a traumatic event

After a traumatic mission, your usually bright and positive self becomes withdrawn and distant, leaving the X-Men concerned and heartbroken by the sudden change. Each mentor steps in to offer their unique form of support, helping you gradually return to your true self, offering a blend of quiet understanding, strength, and unwavering care.

Characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Jean Grey, Kurt Wagner, Ororo Munroe, Remy LeBeau, Rogue, Hank McCoy, Kevin MacTaggert, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr & Lucas Bishop

Hello, Nina! What a lovely message you left me here ♡ It made my day. And this is the first time I've been asked for "obscure" characters and I'm so happy, I hope you like my take on them. As I said, I've read almost all of the X-Men comics, so don't be afraid to ask me your "obscure" character, I will gladly make them. And same, I think everyone has noticed that X-Men comics are my hyperfixation. Hope you like it ♡ — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott Summers has always been a strong, dependable presence in your life. You’ve always looked up to him, not just because of his leadership but because of the way he’s always made you feel safe. You’re the bright, cheerful kid who lights up the room when you walk in, and you’ve always been attached to Scott. He treats you like his own, encouraging your optimism, even when things get tough. You’re constantly clinging to him, whether it’s holding his hand or sitting next to him during training sessions.

- But after a particularly bad mission, something inside you changes. You’d witnessed something you shouldn’t have, something that shook your sense of safety and security. For the first time, you were scared. You pulled away from Scott, stopped seeking his comforting presence. You became a hollow version of yourself, quiet and withdrawn. Scott noticed immediately, his heart breaking every time he saw the light in your eyes dimmed. He tried talking to you, but you brushed him off, not wanting to burden him with your fears.

- Scott wasn’t about to give up on you. He knew what it was like to carry fear and trauma, and he wasn’t going to let you go through it alone. He’d sit beside you quietly, offering a hand that you didn’t take, but he never pressured you. He’d talk about his own struggles when he was younger, hoping that sharing his experiences would help you feel less alone. Slowly, he started to break through the walls you’d built around yourself. Little by little, you began to open up again, but it was a slow process.

- The turning point came one day when Scott took you out to the training field. He didn’t ask you to train or talk; he just stood with you in the quiet. After a long silence, you finally spoke up, telling him about the fear you’d been carrying. Scott listened intently, reassuring you that it was okay to be scared but that you didn’t have to carry it alone. His steady presence, the way he never wavered, slowly helped you regain your confidence. Over time, you started clinging to him again, your light slowly returning.

- Scott’s relief was palpable when he saw you smile for the first time in what felt like forever. He never stopped watching out for you, always ready to offer a hand or a kind word when you needed it. He knew that you’d never be the same as you were before, but he also knew that you were stronger for it. And he’d always be there, a guiding presence, whenever you needed him.

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Logan wasn’t exactly the warmest or most outwardly affectionate person, but somehow, you managed to break through his tough exterior. From the moment you arrived at the mansion, you’d latched onto him, following him around like a little shadow. You were this bright, positive ball of energy, always finding the silver lining in any situation. Logan would grumble about you being clingy, but deep down, he didn’t mind. In fact, he found himself getting used to your constant presence, and it brought a rare smile to his face.

- Then, one day, after a brutal mission, everything changed. Something happened out there—something that left you shaken to your core. You came back to the mansion a different person, quiet and distant, a shadow of the child you once were. You stopped seeking out Logan, stopped clinging to his side. You barely spoke, and when you did, it was just to say you were fine, even though Logan knew you weren’t. It was hard for him to see you like that, and it tore him apart inside.

- Logan didn’t know how to handle it at first. He wasn’t good with feelings, and he didn’t want to push you, but seeing you so hollow hurt him more than he’d care to admit. He’d sit outside your room sometimes, just to be close to you, hoping you’d open the door. He tried to give you space but also wanted you to know that he was there. One day, after you’d been sitting alone for hours, Logan finally came into your room without a word, sat down beside you, and just waited. You didn’t speak, but his presence was comforting, like an anchor in a storm.

- Slowly, Logan started taking you out on little trips—nothing fancy, just walks in the woods or quiet moments by the lake. He knew the outdoors had always helped him clear his head, and he hoped it would do the same for you. It took a while, but you eventually started talking again, first in short sentences, then longer conversations. You told Logan about the fear you couldn’t shake, about how the mission had changed how you saw the world. Logan listened, not offering advice, just being there for you.

- Over time, you started to come back to yourself. You clung to Logan again, and even though he grumbled about it, he didn’t push you away. The first time you laughed after the incident, Logan let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wasn’t the best at showing emotion, but you knew he cared. And in his own gruff way, Logan made sure you knew that no matter what, he’d always be there for you, protecting you from the world—and sometimes, from yourself.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean Grey was the one you always went to when you needed comfort. She was warm, nurturing, and could always make you feel safe, no matter what was going on around you. You adored her, always hanging around her, basking in her presence like a little ray of sunshine. She never minded how clingy you were—in fact, she found it endearing. You were her little bright spot in a world that often felt heavy, and she cherished every moment with you.

- But one day, after a particularly intense mission, everything changed. Something happened out there—something that shook you to your core. When you came back, the light in you had dimmed. You didn’t seek out Jean like you usually did. You didn’t smile or talk as much, and when you did, it was clear that you were trying to hide your fear and sadness. Jean noticed immediately and was heartbroken to see you so withdrawn.

- Jean didn’t push you, but she made sure you knew she was there. She’d gently knock on your door, leaving little notes or snacks she knew you liked. She’d find subtle ways to be around you, like sitting quietly in the same room while you read or worked on something. It was her way of reminding you that you weren’t alone, even if you didn’t want to talk about what had happened yet.

- One evening, Jean invited you to the rooftop garden, a place that had always been special to both of you. You hesitated at first, but eventually, you agreed. As you both sat under the stars, Jean spoke softly about her own struggles with fear and trauma, telling you stories of times when she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. She wasn’t trying to make you feel better by comparing your pain to hers; she just wanted you to know that it was okay to be scared, that it was okay to feel overwhelmed.

- Slowly, with Jean’s gentle care and understanding, you began to open up again. It wasn’t an overnight change, but little by little, the light in you started to return. Jean was patient, never rushing you, always offering a kind word or a soft hug when you needed it. She was so relieved the day she saw you smile again—really smile, not just out of politeness. Jean knew you would never be exactly the same as you were before, but she was proud of how strong you’d become. And she promised herself that she’d always be there to help you find your light again, no matter how many times it dimmed.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt Wagner, with his kind heart and unwavering faith, had always been like a father figure to you. From the moment you arrived at Xavier’s, he took you under his wing. You, the ever-cheerful ball of sunshine, found his gentle nature comforting, and you admired his ability to remain positive despite everything he had gone through. You’d often cling to his side, your laughter echoing through the mansion as you teleported around with him or listened to his stories about his life in the circus.

- After a particularly difficult mission, however, everything changed. You had seen things that no child should ever witness—things that tore away at your innocence and light. You returned to the mansion quiet, no longer the beacon of joy you once were. You distanced yourself from Kurt, spending more time alone in your room, and when he tried to comfort you, you’d give him half-hearted smiles, pretending everything was fine. Kurt knew better, though. The light in your eyes had dimmed, and it broke his heart to see you retreating into yourself.

- Kurt, being as patient and understanding as ever, didn’t push you. He respected your space but never let you feel abandoned. He would often leave little drawings and notes for you to find, hoping to coax a smile out of you. One evening, as you sat alone in the chapel, lost in thought, Kurt quietly joined you. He didn’t say anything at first—he just sat beside you, offering his silent presence as comfort. Eventually, he began talking about his own struggles with darkness, reminding you that it was okay to feel scared and lost but that you didn’t have to go through it alone.

- Slowly but surely, Kurt’s unwavering kindness and gentle patience began to reach you. He never demanded that you return to your old self but instead encouraged you to take things one step at a time. He took you on small trips around the mansion, teleporting you to peaceful spots in the garden or the attic, where you could talk if you wanted or just sit in silence. With each little outing, you felt a small part of yourself begin to heal, the weight of what you’d seen slowly lifting.

- The first time you laughed again in Kurt’s presence, he nearly cried with relief. It wasn’t the carefree laugh he was used to, but it was a start. Over time, you began to cling to him again, seeking his presence when you needed comfort, and while you weren’t the same person you were before, you were stronger. Kurt made sure to remind you every day that no matter what, he would always be there for you, a guiding light in the darkness whenever you needed him.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

- Ororo Munroe, with her serene presence and deep connection to nature, had always been like a mother to you. You admired her strength, her compassion, and the way she carried herself with grace despite the storms she had weathered in life. You, with your bright personality and endless energy, often found yourself attached to Ororo’s side, soaking up her wisdom and calm demeanor. She adored your optimism and always took the time to nurture your cheerful spirit.

- But after a harrowing mission that rattled you to your core, the light inside you dimmed. You had witnessed something that no child should ever see, and it changed you. You became quiet, withdrawn, and stopped seeking Ororo’s calming presence like you once did. You no longer smiled or laughed as you once had, and Ororo could see the pain in your eyes. She didn’t push you, but the change in you weighed heavily on her heart. She knew something was wrong, but she waited for you to come to her when you were ready.

- Ororo, with her natural maternal instincts, made sure you never felt alone, even as you distanced yourself. She would leave flowers by your bedside, small tokens of beauty and life, hoping to lift your spirits. One afternoon, when you were particularly down, she invited you to the greenhouse, knowing how much you had always loved spending time with the plants. At first, you were hesitant, but Ororo’s gentle encouragement convinced you to go. The peaceful atmosphere and Ororo’s quiet presence made it easier for you to open up, and little by little, you began to talk about what was troubling you.

- Ororo listened with endless patience as you finally shared your fears and the things that haunted you. She didn’t try to force positivity on you; instead, she acknowledged your pain and assured you that it was okay to feel the way you did. She reminded you that even the sun needs time to rise after a storm and that, like nature, you would heal at your own pace. Her words comforted you more than anything, and you found solace in her gentle wisdom.

- Slowly, over time, you began to recover. Ororo took you on small walks through the gardens, showing you how the flowers bloomed even after the harshest winters. Her presence was a constant source of comfort, and she never left your side, encouraging you to take things one day at a time. The first time you smiled again, Ororo felt a wave of relief wash over her. You were healing, and while you weren’t the same child you were before, you had grown stronger. Ororo made sure to remind you every day that, like the weather, you could weather any storm with time and support.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy LeBeau, with his smooth charm and playful nature, was someone you had always looked up to. He treated you like his little shadow, always making time for your endless energy and positivity. You adored him, clinging to his side during missions or downtime, laughing at his jokes even when they weren’t that funny. Remy loved the light you brought into his life, and he always made sure to keep that spark alive, teaching you card tricks and letting you tag along on adventures.

- But after a mission gone wrong, the light in you dimmed. You had seen something that no child should have to witness, and it shook you to your core. When you returned to the mansion, you were no longer the bright, bubbly child you had been. You avoided Remy, retreating into yourself and becoming a quiet, hollow version of who you once were. Remy noticed immediately, and it worried him deeply. He tried to coax you out of your shell with jokes and games, but nothing seemed to work.

- Remy wasn’t the type to give up easily, though. He knew you were hurting, and while he didn’t want to push you, he also didn’t want to let you carry that burden alone. He started leaving little notes and gifts in your room, hoping to make you smile. One day, when you were sitting alone in the mansion’s common room, Remy sat down beside you, quietly shuffling his deck of cards. He didn’t say anything, just sat with you, offering his silent presence. Slowly, the two of you began to talk, and Remy listened as you finally opened up about what had been bothering you.

- Remy was patient as you worked through your feelings, never once rushing you to be “your old self” again. He shared stories of his own troubled past, reminding you that even the brightest lights can flicker sometimes. He encouraged you to take things one day at a time and reassured you that it was okay to feel sad and scared. With Remy’s gentle guidance, you began to feel a little more like yourself each day.

- The first time you laughed at one of Remy’s jokes again, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. It wasn’t the carefree laugh he was used to, but it was a start. Slowly but surely, you began to cling to him again, seeking out his presence for comfort. While you weren’t the same child you were before, you were stronger, and Remy made sure you knew that no matter what, he would always be there to help you find your way back to the light.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

- Rogue had always been your big sister figure, and you admired her so much. She had her own struggles with her powers, but you never once saw her let it dampen her spirit. Her tough love and protective nature made you feel safe, and your bright and bubbly personality often drew her into fits of laughter when the two of you hung out. She’d ruffle your hair and joke about how you could probably light up the whole mansion with your smile. Rogue was always there for you, and you adored her for it.

- One day, after a mission that went horribly wrong, you returned to the mansion feeling completely shattered. You had seen something that no child should ever have to see, and it left you feeling broken inside. Your once vibrant and clingy self faded into the background, and you withdrew from everyone, even Rogue. You avoided her, choosing instead to lock yourself away in your room, barely eating or speaking to anyone. Rogue knew something was wrong, and it broke her heart to see you retreat into yourself.

- Rogue wasn’t the type to let anyone suffer alone, though, especially not someone as close to her as you. She tried giving you space at first, but when it became clear that you weren’t coming to her, she decided to come to you. She knocked softly on your door one afternoon, waiting for you to let her in. When you didn’t respond, she simply sat outside your room and began talking to you, her voice gentle and filled with care. She didn’t push you to open up right away, but she reminded you that she was there, whenever you were ready.

- It took a while, but eventually, you came out of your room and found Rogue sitting on the porch, watching the sunset. You sat beside her quietly, and for a long time, neither of you said anything. Then, with a shaky voice, you started to tell her about what had happened during the mission, how it had affected you, and how you didn’t know how to deal with it. Rogue listened intently, her usual sass replaced with a quiet understanding. She wrapped an arm around you, careful with her touch, and pulled you close. “You ain’t gotta deal with it alone, sugar,” she said softly. “I’m here, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

- Rogue didn’t expect you to bounce back overnight, but she made sure you knew she had your back. She’d drag you out of bed on particularly bad days, forcing you to come on walks with her or just sit in the sun. Slowly but surely, you started to feel a little more like yourself. The first time you cracked a joke, Rogue’s grin was so wide it made your heart swell. You weren’t completely back to your old self, but Rogue never rushed you. She was just happy to see that spark returning, even if it took time. You knew with Rogue by your side, you’d find your way back to the light.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

- Hank McCoy was a father figure to you in every sense of the word. His intelligence, kindness, and calm demeanor made you feel safe, and you always loved spending time in his lab, watching him work. Your bubbly and energetic personality balanced out his more serious side, and he often said you were like a ray of sunshine that could brighten even the darkest of days. You adored him, following him around and asking endless questions about science and the world, to which he would always give thoughtful and detailed answers.

- But after a traumatic mission that left you shaken, your once-bright personality faded. The light inside you dimmed, and you found yourself retreating into the shadows. You stopped visiting Hank in his lab, stopped asking him questions, and started spending more time alone, lost in your own thoughts. You didn’t want to burden him with your problems, so you kept everything inside, but Hank noticed immediately. It hurt him to see you withdraw, and he knew something was wrong.

- Hank, ever the patient and understanding mentor, gave you space but never let you feel alone. He would leave small notes in the places he knew you frequented, little reminders that he was there if you needed him. One day, when you hadn’t come to the lab in weeks, he knocked on your door. You were curled up in bed, barely acknowledging his presence. He sat down beside you, his large, gentle hand resting on your shoulder. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” he said quietly. “But know that I’m here, always.”

- Eventually, you did open up to him, telling him about the horrors you had witnessed during the mission and how it had changed you. Hank listened with the utmost care, his heart aching for you. He didn’t try to fix everything right away, but instead, he reminded you that it was okay to feel lost and scared. He shared his own struggles with you, times when he had felt out of control or burdened by his powers. His empathy and understanding helped you feel less alone, and little by little, you started to find your way back to yourself.

- Hank knew it would take time for you to fully recover, but he was endlessly patient. He’d invite you to the lab again, not to work but just to be in each other’s company, and he would leave little experiments for you to do whenever you felt ready. The first time you smiled while working on a project, Hank felt an immense sense of relief. You were healing, and while you might not be the same child you were before, Hank was proud of your strength. He made sure you knew that no matter what, he would always be there for you, guiding you back to the light whenever you needed it.

Kevin MacTaggert (Proteus)

- Kevin MacTaggert, or Proteus, was a complicated figure in your life. Despite his dark history and unstable powers, there was a part of him that cared deeply for you. You, with your infectious positivity and boundless energy, had managed to form a bond with him, one that even he didn’t fully understand. You saw the good in him, even when he couldn’t see it in himself. Kevin often kept his distance from others, but with you, he allowed himself to be a little softer, a little more vulnerable. You clung to him, always finding ways to make him smile, even if it was just for a brief moment.

- But after witnessing something truly horrifying during a mission, you changed. The light inside you dimmed, and you no longer sought out Kevin’s presence like you used to. You became quiet, withdrawn, and scared. Kevin, who had always been sensitive to the emotions of those around him, noticed the shift immediately. It unsettled him to see you like this, and he didn’t know how to handle it at first. He wasn’t used to caring for others, but seeing you suffer made him feel something unfamiliar—concern.

- Kevin wasn’t the type to offer comfort easily, but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. He sought you out one day, finding you sitting alone in the mansion’s courtyard. He didn’t say much at first, just sat beside you, his presence enough to let you know he was there. After a while, he quietly asked what had happened, and for the first time since the mission, you opened up about the trauma you had experienced. Kevin listened intently, his usual sharp demeanor replaced with quiet understanding.

- He didn’t know how to fix what you were feeling, but he knew he didn’t want to see you in pain. Kevin began spending more time with you, trying to coax you back to your old self in his own way. He wasn’t great at emotional support, but he’d distract you with stories or small adventures around the mansion. You slowly began to open up again, and while Kevin wasn’t the warmest figure in your life, his presence was comforting. He didn’t push you to be happy, but he made sure you knew he was there, in his own quiet, protective way.

- Over time, you started to feel a little more like yourself. You weren’t the same child you were before, but you had grown stronger. Kevin, in his own way, had helped you heal, and you could see that even he had changed a little, softening around the edges. The first time you smiled again, Kevin gave a rare, genuine smile of his own. You were healing, and though the journey was long, you knew that with Kevin’s quiet support, you’d find your way back to the light.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

- Charles Xavier had always been a guiding figure in your life. He was more than just the head of the school; he was like a father to you, someone you could look up to and trust. Your boundless positivity and energy were a constant source of joy for him, and he often said that your presence alone could brighten his day, even when things were difficult. You clung to Charles, always seeking his advice or simply spending time with him, knowing that he understood you in ways few others could.

- But after a particularly harrowing mission, something inside you broke. You weren’t your usual self, no longer the bright and happy child everyone knew. The trauma of what you had seen had dimmed your light, and you withdrew from everyone, including Charles. You stopped seeking his guidance, and instead, you stayed silent, choosing to avoid him altogether. It pained him to see you like this, but he respected your space, understanding that healing took time.

- Charles didn’t push you to open up, but he was always there, silently offering his support. His telepathic abilities allowed him to sense the depth of your pain, but he never intruded on your thoughts. He waited patiently, hoping that one day, you would come to him when you were ready. In the meantime, he left small reminders around the mansion—a favorite book, a handwritten note—letting you know that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

- It wasn’t until you broke down one evening, unable to contain the weight of your emotions any longer, that you finally came to him. You found Charles sitting in his study, and without saying a word, you collapsed into his arms, tears streaming down your face. He held you gently, his presence calm and reassuring. He didn’t ask for an explanation, knowing that you would speak when you were ready. “I’m here, always,” he whispered, his voice steady and full of compassion.

- Over the next few weeks, Charles made it his mission to help you heal, guiding you through meditation and mindfulness techniques that would allow you to process your trauma. He never rushed you, never expected you to be your old self right away. Slowly, you began to come out of your shell again, finding comfort in his wisdom and kindness. The first time you laughed again, Charles smiled, his heart swelling with relief. You weren’t fully back to your sunny self, but with Charles by your side, you knew you would find your way back to the light, in time.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik Lehnsherr wasn’t the warmest of mentors, but he had always taken a special interest in you. There was something about your bright personality that intrigued him, something about the way you could remain so positive in a world that was often so cruel. You admired Erik for his strength and conviction, and despite his often stern demeanor, you knew he cared about you deeply. He was like a father to you, though he’d never say it out loud. You often joked that you were the sunshine to his storm, a balance of opposites that somehow worked.

- After a mission that went horribly wrong, you weren’t the same. The bright, bubbly child that had once brought so much light into Erik’s life was gone, replaced by someone who was quiet, withdrawn, and afraid. You couldn’t shake the horrors you had witnessed, and you distanced yourself from everyone, including Erik. You stopped seeking him out, choosing instead to hide away, not wanting to burden him with your pain. Erik, however, noticed immediately. He wasn’t the most emotionally expressive man, but it hurt him to see you suffering in silence.

- Erik didn’t push you to talk about what had happened, but he kept a close eye on you, watching from a distance. He understood trauma in ways that most couldn’t, and while he respected your need for space, he also knew that you couldn’t go through this alone. One evening, he found you sitting by the window, staring out at the night sky, lost in your thoughts. Without a word, he sat beside you, the silence between you heavy but comforting in its own way.

- After a long stretch of quiet, you finally opened up to Erik, telling him about the mission and how it had changed you. Erik listened carefully, his usual sharpness replaced with a rare gentleness. He didn’t offer you platitudes or try to diminish your pain. Instead, he shared his own experiences, his own struggles with the darkness that often consumed him. “We all have our demons,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to face them alone.”

- Erik’s approach to helping you heal was different from others. He didn’t coddle you, but he was always there, offering his strength when you needed it. Slowly, with his guidance, you began to find your way back to yourself. The first time you smiled again, Erik gave a small, almost imperceptible smile of his own. You weren’t completely back to the bright, sunny child you had been before, but with Erik by your side, you knew you’d find your way back to the light, even if it took time.

Lucas Bishop

- Bishop had always been more of a protector than anything else. He admired your optimism and saw in you a kind of light that was rare in his world of war and survival. To him, you were a reminder of the peace he fought so hard to protect, and despite his often stoic nature, he grew deeply attached to you. You, in turn, saw Bishop as a big brother, someone who would always keep you safe, no matter what. You often followed him around, your endless curiosity and bright energy a stark contrast to his serious demeanor.

- But after a particularly brutal mission, everything changed. You weren’t the same bright and positive child that had once been a beacon of light in Bishop’s life. The trauma of what you had witnessed left you hollow, and you withdrew into yourself, barely speaking or acknowledging anyone. You stopped following Bishop around, stopped asking him questions, and instead, you stayed in your room, avoiding everyone. Bishop noticed immediately and, while he respected your space, it tore him apart to see you like this.

- Bishop wasn’t one to talk about emotions, but he wasn’t going to let you suffer in silence either. He didn’t force you to talk about what had happened, but he made sure you knew he was there, whenever you were ready. One evening, he found you sitting alone in the mansion’s training room, staring blankly at the ground. Without saying a word, he sat down beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. You didn’t speak at first, but eventually, the silence between you became too much to bear, and you began to tell him about the mission, about how it had changed you.

- Bishop listened with the same intensity he brought to every mission, his focus entirely on you. When you finished, he didn’t try to fix things or offer you easy solutions. Instead, he put a hand on your shoulder and said, “You’re not alone in this. I’ve been through it too, and I’m here for you.” His words, simple as they were, carried a weight that made you feel less alone. Bishop had seen horrors too, and knowing that he understood made it easier for you to start healing.

- Over the next few weeks, Bishop kept a close eye on you, making sure you didn’t retreat too far into yourself. He didn’t push you to be your old self right away, but he did encourage you to get back into a routine, to start training again, even if it was just for a few minutes a day. Slowly, you began to regain your strength, and while you weren’t the same bright child you had been before, you felt a little more like yourself each day. The first time you cracked a joke in Bishop’s presence, he gave a rare smile, a small but significant sign that you were on your way back to the light.

[balancethescales]

thinking about the specific moments where the berzatto family falls in love with sydney (because of course they do, everyone does).

for richie, it takes the end of the beef and right up till the opening of the bear to happen. he is full of contempt and grief when he meets her and all he knows is that when he looks at her face he is afraid. he doesn’t like that feeling. richie is not a man who finds himself fearful a lot, but she is everything he is not and nothing that he is and he hates himself for it. if she is what it means to be passionate, then what is he? is he nothing but an empty shell of mikey, stuck on earth to shake his fist at passing clouds, because how dare they move and continue on like mikey was nothing to them, as if he wasn’t the very point that the earth revolved around? everyone is leaving him behind, and she is proudly leading the pack. it’s not right. but then— he gets it. he talks to garrett and jess and chef terry and he sees sydney in every corner of that restaurant. the fear slowly is replaced with respect as the week goes on and he realizes that just because she’s good doesn’t mean she’s out to get him. that’s the berzatto upbringing in him doing the talking, but it doesn’t have to, because shes a berzatto now, maybe not officially (not yet, but mark his words, she will be) but she is, and that’s not how she does things. so, he lets her lead them into the future to something good and different and better.

for sugar, it’s instant. she was born to a mother who is triggered by her very existence, and it has hurt her all her life. she is full of love and the one person she wants to give it to the most doesn’t want any part of it. she was born to give but is surrounded by those who are afraid to even take it, to reach out their hand and meet her in the middle. and if they cant take then they themselves have nothing to give, so she gets used to being the one who has to force feed her love down their throats, because if no one does, if no one shows them that they are worthy of good things, then they will crumble (“if i just talked to him more—” “no, nat—” “if i had just—” “it’s not your fault, honey. it’s never been.”). but when she meets sydney, it’s like looking into a mirror. she sees her bright eyes and soft smiles and careful but strong hands and instantly recognizes her for what she is: a giver. and sugars heart swells with even more love than she thought possible, because finally, she’s not alone— there is someone else there to slowly, albeit subconsciously, take care of her crumbling family, to show them that despite what their mother may have taught them, its okay to not be okay (she tries her best not to cry when syd asks her if shes okay, but she does. and syd doesnt grab her face or yell at her or call her stupid. she makes her a meal. and sugar cries some more).

for cicero, the love isn’t instant, and it’s not even entirely love. she is strong and she is assertive, but that also makes her naive and a very expensive risk. she makes him curious for what’s to come, intrigued by the way she doesn’t back down from carmy whose voice so often mimics the berzattos that came before him (“you’re better than this, kid.” “i don’t know what i am.” “whatever it is, it’s not this.”). she's self assured and knows her place in the establishment and is unafraid to let people know it. it’s a refreshing change of pace from mikey, who often resorted to intimidation to get his way, or carmy, who’s anxiety envelopes him and distracts him from what’s right there in front of him. but she is not them. she is focused and on track and is willing to put in the work to get what she wants. he doesn’t visit the bear often, only drops by once in a while to deliver bad news or to fulfill a favour or to just enjoy some good food, but when he does, she is always there, dedicated to ensuring that carmy and michaels, and now, her dream stays alive. she is good for his family, and he trusts her to keep the berzatto spirit alive.

for michelle, it’s quite simple. she always looked out for carmy, their little bear, so when she meets her it’s a family thanksgiving party at the bear and syd stumbles out of the kitchen, obviously frazzled and a little sweaty (“carmy, im not ready, i didn’t even change yet and the turk—” “don’t worry, tina will take care of it, you look great, they’ll love you, they just really wanted to meet you—”), but she’s smiling. she’s a little awkward when she introduces herself, and michelle finds herself endeared by her nervous ramble (“it’s, uh, really nice to meet you guys. sorry, i didn’t know that i was going to be pulled out of the kitchen so soon. uh, im sydney. yeah, i guess carmy already told you guys, huh? um. im sorry, how are you related to the family again? i mean, i dont want to offend but it’s just. uh. well, you guys are just very... normal?”) and she’ll laugh and look at stanley and the two of them will think to themselves, good job carmy, she’s a good one, before telling syd something dumb and nonsensical about a genetic mutation and richie interrupts to tell michelle it’s not a genetic mutation it’s called being boring and syd will laugh and michelle will too, truly happy that their little bear found someone normal, a breath of fresh air within the smoke of their family.

for donna, it’s weird. it’s tense. they don’t meet for a long time. they don’t meet at the bear when it first opens and not at the bear even when it has found it’s footing, but by chance. they are somewhere mundane (a grocery store, a park, or maybe just the street) and there is no other family member around when syd meets the berzatto matriarch. she only knows what donna looks like from photos at sugars house because carmys apartment is devoid of any actual sentiment (although that has begun to change since she made him get an actual dresser and he dedicated one of the drawers to her stuff). she calls out to her by her name, and donna turns around startled. she doesn’t recognize syd, of course, who introduces herself and informs her of who she is to the family. when donna smiles it’s not a real one, and syd knows this, but it doesn’t deter her. she tells donna that her kids love her (“even after everything, nat?” “she’s our mother. its all that we can do.”) and that her kids are great (“carmy, you are not broken.” “im a little broken.” “no, listen to me, the fact that you are still here, means something. its something.”) and that there will always be a table for her at the bear (“chef, someones calling in for a reso for 1 but we’re all full up… except for—“ “yo, dont finish that sentence. table 7 for ms. berzatto is an indefinite booking. is that understood?” “yes, chef”). donnas smile fades and her chest fills with anger but just as she’s about to explode in typical berzatto fashion syd interrupts her. she has faced the bear many a time before and has handled herself with grace and dignity everytime, so this is no different. she smiles brightly and thanks donna for listening to her and hopes she considers coming in, because she’d really like to cook for her. she looks like she needs a good meal. she deserves one. she turns and walks away. donnas stomach growls. that night, table 7 is occupied for the first time since the bear opened its doors.

and carmy? well, there isn’t an exact moment. its a culmination of awkward partnership (“i don’t want to be shitty.” “okay, then dont be.”) and flawless teamwork (“the menu needs—” “already on it, chef.”) and nights unwinding at the bar down the street (“of course you drink an old fashioned.” “what’s that supposed to mean?” “nothing, it’s just very… tortured-chef-from-the-slums-of-chicago of you”) and spontaneous phone calls just to hear the others voice (“why are you whispering?” “i… don’t know. my dads home. its a habit.” “you’re 27.” “and you’re white, you wouldn’t get it.”) till they’re just inseparable (“cousin, wheres carmy?” “with syd, duh.” “why'd i even ask?”). and then, sydney and carmen become something else. something tender and sweet and terrifying and beautiful all mixed together into… something. there’s no word for what they have. but it feels so right; to the guests who taste their food and recognize that the hands who put it together are full of love and care; to the staff at the bear who see the unspoken communication, the lingering touches, and their soft eyes that seem to always be on the other; to the berzatto family who notice that carmy looks a little brighter, and shakes a little less. yes, its love, but its so much more. it’s syd and carmy. it always has been, and always will be.

(“can i ask you something? something corny and lame and gross?” “always.” “when did you, like, know?” “know what?” “like, when did you know that you loved me? like, not as a chef or a friend, but as... y'know.” “that’s very middle school of you to ask.” “shut up, i did warn you.” “…” “so?” “its, uh, i don’t, i don’t know.” “well, that’s rude.” “no, i mean, i can’t say its one moment because... it was all of them. together. like, one moment you’re staging and then everything happened and, and, keeps happening but the next thing i knew you were there and you always were there and i just knew that i never wanted you to not be there.” “that’s…. really, really, disgusting, and frankly, a little unprofessional.” “oh, fuck off.” “no, like, i knew you were obsessed with me, but wow, that is a whole new other level.” “fuck you, get off of me, don’t touch me.” “no no no, please—” “i let you into my family—” “let me?” “into my restaurant—” “i think you mean OUR restaurant—” “only for you to humiliate me in my own bed? how dare you.” “…are you sulking?” “…” “…carmy?” “syd?” “me too.” “…heard, chef. now come back here.”)

(and it’s unspoken, but everyone knows that michael would’ve loved her too. i mean, she’s sydney fucking adamu, she conquered the bear. how could anyone not love her?)

[anaconamor]

what could’ve been - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: based on this request! brother bsf! after a heavy international loss, jude can only cope and receive comfort from his bsf little sister in her arms despite someone walking in on them…

wc: 1.7k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I RECEIVED THIS!! ik it’s not the longest but still filled with heavy and forbidden touches with jude 😵‍💫🤭 like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

you felt torn apart. feeling limb by limp being swept away as you try to cope with the realization they were kicked out to their deserved semi-finals. you couldn’t hear the commotion around you, feeling drips of water fall on you from some fans angry or happily celebrating, only blinking rapid to see if what happened was real or not.

you sunk into the seat, hands covering your face as you felt the need to be pushed into a dark corner and never come out. you felt pity, remorse and overwhelmed with the sight of your brother and his teammates crouched on the floor or wiping their tears away.

you felt for them. it wasn’t a easy match, one of the heaviest tournaments and going against the winner of the last world cup didn’t help. they had a strong team, they had it in the bag before all hell broke loose. one minute you cheered, then next you were trying to hold the choked sobs your body begged to be let out.

you could only stare around with tearful eyes and a heavy pain in your chest as you looked around the stadium before your eyes finally landed on them. your brother consoling jude who tried to control his tears, hugging each other tight almost afraid to let go.

you stayed in your spot, waiting for your brother to appear and come up to the stands. “i genuinely don’t know what to say,” your mom says quietly. you nod agreeing with you, feeling as she hugged your side and brought her to you. “maybe it’s best we leave him, he’ll come to us like he always does when he’s ready to talk,” you reply, bitting your lip to hold back your tears.

you saw your brother send the three of you a quick wake and kiss, shaking his head in dissatisfaction he didn’t want to speak and wanted to be left alone. jude trailed behind him, locking eyes with yours, feeling a familiarity in your tummy as he gave you a sad smile and wave. you reciprocated the action, seeing him whisper a “thank you for being here.”

you felt the first tear and then the one roll down your cheek onto your england jersey, being pushed away into the tunnel back into a reality you dreaded. you felt pissed and angry at the opposing teams fans who cheered loudly as they walked into the shuttles. earning some laughters or side remarks when all you wanted was to go in a tuck into your sheets.

your brother hadn’t checked in yet, so you’d decided to stay up a bit longer knowing he tended to go on walks after rough loss to clear his head. plus you could also imagine the squad comforting each other, and wanting to be there for everyone. you were grateful for that and their ability of having a brotherhood when it most mattered.

while you could also feel for your brother, you randomly began thinking of jude as well. the defeated and obvious sad look on his face as he processed the match. one of englands most youngest talented players at their first world cup and their luck being this.

you and him had a small history. he often came over a lot when they had time off. during those times when left alone a small friendship was built. either to talk about life, seeking advice, music you commonly shared, or when the group decided to leave both of you out.

you felt the need to distance yourself from him after the unexpected makeout session you had in your bedroom. he was your first kiss and it left a forever mark inside you. you knew it was wrong and the last thing you wanted was your brother cutting a long-standing friendship because of it. jude was hurt, eyes always roaming you when he came over and always trying to speak to you.

from jude:

please let me in.

your eyes immediately went wide when you saw him text you to open the door. frantically looking around when you heard the door knock, you quickly looked in the mirror and took deep breaths. this was the last thing you expected to happen especially tonight. your sweaty hand opened the door revealing a teared eyes jude with his nike tech set on.

you let him in, lips pursed not knowing what to say or even debating to say anything. you shifted your weight from one foot to another, you met his eyes, drowning in the rapidly as they never detached from yours. he let out a deep breath or sigh, eyes fluttering as his voice croaked.

he sat on the edge of the bed taking a deep gulp before speaking. “i didn’t know where else to go…” he looked around the room and his body language was refusing to deny what happened. "jude," you whispered quietly taking a small step. you saw his eyes watery looking at you, "can y-y-you just hold me?"

you immediately rushed to him, his head coming to your stomach as his hands wrapped around you. you let him hold you, hearing his loud sobs muffled as you tried to be strong for him. your hands rubbed the top of his shoulders, the other scratching the nape of his neck to comfort him.

you kneeled to his level, holding his face in your hands as you stroked away his tears, jude refusing to let you go as he controlled his breathing. "we can talk about it if you want? but if a quiet setting is what you need i understand too..." you say, thumb tracing his cheeks.

"can we cuddle on the bed? i think i'm ready to talk about it," jude replies, grabbing your hands and placing kisses all over them. you did as you asked, jude laying on top of you as we spoke for almost an hour about how he felt and how things could've gone differently.

you listened, continuing to hold him stroking his back and scratching to soothe his cries or stutters. you didn't interrupt once, wanting him to have the floor to relieve his pain and let his feelings known. you could hear the frustration, tiredness, anger, and disappointment but overall the sadness in his voice.

after a quick share of words and laughter before jude fell asleep, his arms tightly around you as he slept peacefully. you pushed away any feelings, wanting to be there for him when he most needed it. it didn't matter what happened in the past or how you felt for him, he needed consolation and you were grateful he was here with you.

"what the hell is this?!?!" you struggled to open your eyes, feeling the heavy weight on top of you still. you saw your brother standing, before throwing away the sheets that covered both of you. "y/n i swear to god. you two cant be serious right now!"

"please relax its not what it looks like," you said trying to explain the situation, as you stood up and jude as well. " 'it's not what it looks like' my ass! hes my best friend y/n! and here you guys are together and cuddled it up," your brother winced at the end, pacing back and forth with his fists clenched.

"i came here looking to talk with someone! nothing happened i swear! we ended up falling asleep," jude defended, earning an angry look from your brother. "yeah you on top of here like some sort of couple, explain that."

"you're overreacting! nothing happened, period. he was looking for comfort and wanted to talk about what just happened, we talked just that," you say frustrated, becoming pissed at your brother for making up assumptions. jude looked at you with sorry eyes, for getting you into this mess.

"y/n, you don't understand, he's my best friend-"

"you think i don't know that? i know he is, and you're my brother, you weren't the only one who lost tonight. we gave you the space you asked for, and jude is practically like family, so i will be here for him when he asks," you say, watching your brother scoff and give you a look of denial.

"jude you could've gone anywhere else! why her? my sister?" your brother ignored you, coming close face to face with jude. it stung you, hearing him sound almost disgusted of you. "everyone else has families, and they're with them. i had no one besides you and her," jude tried to reason again.

"and you chose her? were best friends jude-"

"i needed her! there i said it! i don't care what you or other people say, i needed y/n tonight. you weren't even here, you took those walks to clear your head and the last i wanted was to stress you out after tonight. i love your sister so much," jude confessed making you gasp and step in front of the two of them.

"i think we should-" you try to intervene as the scene becomes loud in the room, afraid it would wake up others and them going to complain.

"what?" your brother deadpans at jude.

"i said i love her. i have and for so long. and tonight the only person i wanted to see and needed was her. so i'm sorry if that upsets you and for saying it now, but i can't hold my feelings inside any longer," jude says. you're afraid to speak, feeling like a kid all over again about to get scolded for doing the wrong thing.

"i can't believe this," your brother sneers, shaking his head in disappointment and walking away. you call out for him crying trying to resonate but met with the door shutting close. "he hates me. he hates me," you say to yourself, hand coming to your heart as it beats loudly and fast.

"he doesn't hate you, he hates me for falling in love with you. this isn't anyone's fault, we can't control our emotions or feelings let alone let other people control ours, y/n. i said what i said because it's true, im so madly in love with you, baby." jude brushed your tears away, kissing your forehead in a comforting manner.

"jude-" you speak but jude asks you a question that leaves you hesitant about whether to confess how you feel for him or protect your heart to make your brother and everyone happy.

"are you in love with me?"

[yvannile]

I wonder what Megumi is like after a rough mission...💭

⊹　 ︶︶　 𖹭᪲　 ︶︶　 ⊹

Megumi! Who watches you from a distance after the mission, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions he doesn’t understand himself. The images of his failure—of the people he couldn’t protect—haunt him, and when he looks at you, all he can feel is guilt. The fear of losing you, of becoming the very person who hurts you, keeps him away. He doesn’t know how to fix what’s broken, so he isolates himself, convincing himself that pushing you away is the only way to keep you safe.

Megumi! Who walks past you like you’re invisible, the weight of his failure heavy on his shoulders. He can’t look at you, not when every time he does, he’s reminded of how he couldn’t keep his promise to protect those he cares about. He tells himself it’s for the best, that he’s keeping you at a distance to shield you from the darkness within him, but all it does is make the silence between you grow unbearable. He watches as you begin to laugh with others, each smile a dagger to his heart, reminding him that he’s the one who pushed you away.

Megumi! Who can’t shake the image of your face when he snapped at you in anger and fear, the hurt in your eyes etched into his mind. In that moment, he was overwhelmed—by the guilt of his failure, the anger at himself for not doing more, and the fear of losing you. That fear consumed him, making him lash out, but now it’s suffocating him. He can’t bear the thought that he’s the one who caused the pain he’s seeing in your eyes, and it eats at him every second of every day.

Megumi! Who stands alone in the dark, remembering the screams of those who suffered because he wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough to protect them. He thinks of you, of your kindness and warmth, and the thought that he might have ruined that forever sends a chill down his spine. The more he tries to push you away, the more it feels like he’s losing you completely, but he doesn’t know how to stop. He’s terrified that if he lets you in again, he’ll only end up hurting you, just like the others.

Megumi! Who sees the distance growing between you, the way your once-friendly smiles have faded into something more reserved, more distant. He’s the reason for this coldness, and the guilt crushes him. He remembers your tears, the way you’d hide your pain, and he curses himself for not being able to shield you from his own self-doubt and turmoil. He wants to apologize, wants to beg for your forgiveness, but he’s too afraid that the damage is irreparable, that he’s already lost you.

Megumi! Who is haunted by the memory of your last conversation—the one where he pushed you away in a moment of panic and fear, certain that it was the only way to protect you. The words still echo in his mind, and each time he sees you, that same terror rises in his chest. He wants to fix things, to show you that he cares, but he’s too afraid that he’s too broken, that there’s no coming back from what he’s done.

Megumi! Who stays up at night, torn between his regret and his fear of losing you. The emotional weight is unbearable. He feels your absence like a hollow ache in his chest, knowing he’s the one who caused it. He watches as you pack up your things, and something inside him shatters. He realizes, too late, that he’s pushed you to the brink of leaving, and that the walls he’s built around himself might be the very thing that costs him your love. The thought that you might walk away for good is too much to bear, and it breaks him to know that, in his attempt to protect you, he might have destroyed everything that mattered.

≿————-　ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🌷་༘࿐　————-≾

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom. TW: suicide thoughts.

John’s War

When it begins, it’s subtle. A flutter in his stomach, which later turns into an ache in his heart. He knows it’s wrong, and he desperately tries to fight it. It’s like a war, and he is the only participant. 

John’s been in love many times. Audrey was the first, Bethany the last. And it’s been fine. Normal. Girls seem to like him. He’s got quite the reputation by the time he’s reached sixteen.

***

It all started to crumble when his sister, Harry, came out as a lesbian at fourteen. Their parents had been livid, but Harry came prepared and was totally unfazed. She’d even arranged to stay at her girlfriend’s family, fully aware that her own mum and dad would kick her out if she didn’t retract and started to act normal.

***

Lance was half American, half British. He and his mother had recently moved back to London after almost twenty years in America. The moment John laid his eyes on Lance, the fluttering began. Lance looked like a film star. Golden, curly hair, green eyes, androgyne features, a slender body, strong hands, long fingers. He was everything John wasn’t. Gay, for starters. And he wanted John of all people.

Words John’s father used on such people, played on repeat in his mind:

Faggot. Queer. Degenerate.

John tried to tell Lance, he was straight, but there was no denying how much John wanted Lance to kiss and touch him. His penis reminded him repeatedly and inconveniently every so often of that particular fact.

“John. Stop this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Lance whispered softly and kissed John’s neck. “Haven’t you heard of bisexuality?”

***

Running away to Afghanistan was the only way forward for John when he couldn’t rescue Lance after his overdose. He felt the need to atone for his lack of observation. 

How had he not seen the self-destructing path Lance was heading down? He was a bloody doctor, for Christ’s sake! Had he been in denial about that too? Didn’t he want to believe that such a talented man Lance turned out to be, could choose to destroy himself just because he failed the interview for the main role in a West End play?

“I’m sorry, darling, but there’ll be other roles. New chances. No one gets them on the first try, surely,” John had tried to reassure his lover, but to no avail.

So, there he was. In Afghanistan where danger lurked around every corner. John was quite startled that he enjoyed the danger so much. He felt alive, thrilled, his broken heart notwithstanding. 

And then, another man invaded his thoughts, and eventually his bed. Major James Sholto.

***

Mike Stamford had never seen a more broken man in his life than John Watson, as he limped past the bench, where he was sitting thinking about Sherlock's words from earlier: 

“Who would want me for a flatmate? I’m a difficult man at best. People hate being around me. Can you imagine someone actually living with me? Who is alive themselves. No, Mike. There exists no such human, I assure you.”

“John! John Watson!” he called out. 

When John just gave him a blank stare, Mike sighed and introduced himself. The response was insulting to say the least. No “oh, nice to see you again, mate,” or “what have you been up to?” There was…nothing.

“Who has left you heartbroken, John?” Mike didn’t say and let John walk away without having said a word.

***

After his meeting with Mike, John finds himself outside Barts hospital. He’s got fond memories from his practise here. With Mike. He winces when he reminisces how rude he was to the jovial man. But it couldn’t be helped. John’s a broken man in so many ways, and he just wants to be left alone. He looks up. Wonders how it would feel to stand on the edge of that roof. Would he dare to jump off it if the opportunity arose? He’s never been afraid of heights. And he longs for the pain to subside. The emotional pain. The pain that scars his heart.

Time eludes him. Why are his knees hurting? He opens his eyes. Is he kneeling on the pavement? Apparently. When did that happen? How long? His thoughts stop abruptly when a warm hand is placed on his good shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

A deep baritone. John perceives a posh accent. The warmth from the man’s hand travel down his spine like lava. 

Radiant. Alluring. Dangerous. 

He lifts his head. At first glance, the man could be Lance’s twin. But then, John realises that it’s only the curly hair and height they have in common. This man’s hair is almost black with tinges of auburn. His eyes are blue, but also green and blue green. The colours are constantly shifting. They’re mesmerising. John wants to drown himself in them.

John stands. He still hasn’t said a word. The man hands him his cane and speaks again.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

For the first time in years John’s first response isn’t to flee. Instead, he straightens his back, lifts his chin and asks:

“How? Tell me.”

The flicker of surprise, quickly followed by insecurity on the man’s face, makes John realise that this can be, if he lets it, a new beginning.

“Go on,” John prompts.

When the man speaks again, John is lost. An ease sets within him, and his heart stops cracking.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

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[zeroseuniverse]

Even Pillars Fall

Word Count: 1.4K Summary: “You’re... not afraid of me?” Mingi asked quietly. She glanced up, their expression softening. “No, Mingi. I’m not. I see a man who gives everything he has to protect the people around him. That doesn’t scare me—it inspires me.” Pairing: Mingi X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The room was filled with the sharp, acrid smell of disinfectants and the faint metallic tang of blood. Mingi’s massive frame lay across the makeshift cot, his breathing uneven as she worked tirelessly to stem the bleeding. The resistance didn’t have the luxury of proper medical facilities, just repurposed warehouses and scavenged supplies. Yet Her hands moved with precision, her focus unwavering despite the odds stacked against them.

Mingi groaned, his hand twitching as if to push her away. “I’m fine,” he rasped, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. He didn’t want to be here—pinned down, powerless, and vulnerable.

“You’re not fine,” She shot back, her voice calm but firm. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing. Let me do my job.”

His defiance faltered under her unwavering gaze. Mingi prided himself on being the resistance’s pillar, the one who shouldered the burden of their most dangerous missions. Yet here he was, reduced to a man bleeding out on a cot, utterly dependent on someone else.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle for someone who had been dealing with life-or-death situations every day. She wasn’t  just treating his wounds; she was silently telling him he wasn’t alone, that his pain mattered.

“Why do you even bother?” Mingi muttered, more to himself than to her. “You’ve got a dozen other people to save.”

She didn’t pause, her hands steady as she stitched a deep gash along his side. “Because you’re worth it. And because I refuse to lose anyone if I can help it.”

The words struck something deep within Mingi. Worth it. It wasn’t a sentiment he heard often, not when most people saw him as a weapon rather than a man.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint hum of machinery and the muted voices of resistance fighters outside the tent.

“You’re... not afraid of me?” Mingi asked quietly.

She glanced up, their expression softening. “No, Mingi. I’m not. I see a man who gives everything he has to protect the people around him. That doesn’t scare me—it inspires me.”

The warmth in her voice disarmed him, more than any wound ever could. For the first time in a long while, Mingi felt seen—not as a mutant or a fighter, but as someone who mattered.

As she finished bandaging him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You don’t have to carry everything alone, you know. Let someone else be strong for you, just for a little while.”

Mingi’s throat tightened. The weight he carried felt lighter, if only for a moment, under her words.

Mingi watched her for a moment, her hands now busy cleaning up the bloodied tools on the nearby table. Her movements were deliberate, practiced, but he couldn’t help noticing the way her brow furrowed in concentration, or how the faint glow of the overhead light caught in her hair.

“You don’t have to stay,” Mingi said, his voice quieter this time. “I’ll be fine now.”

She turned, meeting his gaze with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Is that your way of trying to get rid of me?”

He smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I just... i don't want you to waste your time.”

“That’s not your call to make,” she replied firmly, stepping closer. Her tone softened, a playful edge slipping in. “Besides, I’d hardly call saving your life a waste of time.”

The closeness made him hyperaware of everything—the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breath, the way her eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary.

“You’ve got a habit of being stubborn,” Mingi murmured, his gaze locking with hers.

She chuckled, the sound light and unguarded. “And you’ve got a habit of pretending you don’t need anyone.”

For a moment, the world outside the tent seemed to fade away. Mingi’s usual bravado cracked under the intensity of the moment, leaving him exposed. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to reach out, to let himself lean into the comfort she offered.

“Why do you do it?” he asked, his voice a shade rougher than he intended. “Put yourself through all this—patching us up, seeing the worst of it. You could have walked away a long time ago.”

She tilted her head, considering him carefully. “Because someone has to. And because I believe in what we’re fighting for.”

She paused, her gaze softening as it held his. “But you? You’re the reason we even have a chance. You might not see it, but you inspire people, Mingi. You remind us why we keep going.”

The words hit him harder than any blow he’d ever taken. He wanted to deflect, to downplay what she had said, but the conviction in her voice made it impossible.

“And what about you?” he asked, his tone quieter now. “Who reminds you to keep going?”

She hesitated, the faintest flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “Sometimes... I remind myself. Other times, I find reasons in the people around me.”

Her gaze dropped briefly, as if debating something, before rising again to meet his. “You’ve been one of those reasons lately.”

The air between them grew taut, charged with unspoken emotions. Mingi swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribs. He wasn’t sure if it was the lingering adrenaline, the exhaustion, or something else entirely, but he found himself leaning forward, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“You’re a dangerous person, you know that?”

She arched a brow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because,” he said, his gaze flicking down to her mouth for just a moment before meeting her eyes again, “you make it hard to remember where the fight ends and... something else begins.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet confession wrapped in layers of tension and uncertainty.

Her breath caught in her throat at the weight of Mingi's words. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and for a split second, she forgot how to respond. She wanted to say something clever, something that would deflect, but instead, she simply stood there, heart pounding in sync with his.

Mingi's gaze softened, his usual bravado slipping away like a mask he no longer wanted to wear. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, the way she was struggling to keep the distance between them, even though every part of him—and perhaps her too—longed to close that gap.

"You should go," Mingi said, his voice hoarse, the words coming out softer than he intended. "Before I do something stupid."

She didn’t move immediately, her hand still resting gently on his arm as she studied him. There was something raw in Mingi's eyes, a vulnerability that spoke volumes more than words ever could. He was the strong one, the one everyone relied on, and yet here he was, asking for a little kindness, a little moment of care.

She shook her head slowly, her hand still lingering, almost as if she needed the contact as much as he did. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Mingi," she replied with a quiet but firm determination. "But I will tell you this—you don't have to be alone in this. Not now. Not ever."

The air between them seemed to pulse with the unsaid, the weight of their connection hanging heavy in the small tent. Mingi’s chest tightened, his heart threatening to betray him, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

"I never wanted to be a burden," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t know how to be anything else."

Her eyes softened, and she moved closer, her hand finally slipping away from his arm as she crouched down beside him. She met his gaze, her voice steady but full of warmth. "You’re not a burden, Mingi. You’re a person—someone who needs others, just like everyone else. And that’s okay."

Mingi blinked, the words sinking into him in a way he hadn’t expected. He had spent so long pushing people away, thinking that if he kept everything buried deep enough, he could protect them from the danger that always seemed to follow him. But in this moment, surrounded by blood and chaos, her unwavering presence gave him something he hadn’t realized he needed—peace.

"Thank you," he said, his voice rough, not just from the wound but from the emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long.

She smiled softly, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder before she stood up, looking down at him with a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "You’re welcome. Now get some rest, okay? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us."

As she  turned to leave, Mingi watched her go, the tightness in his chest loosening just a fraction. There was something about her—something that made him believe he might be able to carry on after all, not alone, but with someone by his side.