#closed off!reader

[the-whispers-of-death]

Closed off!Reader stumbling through the dark hallways of the base at night, you having woken up from a nightmare. You're desperate for some type of reprieve from your racing thoughts, some type of solace.

So you find yourself at the door of Ghost's barracks and with shaky hands, you knock on the door. He opens it and sees you, usually so composed and detached but now you're shaking like a leaf, your eyes wide with fear.

"Come here," he says gruffly and without hesitation, gently pulling you into the barracks. He leads you towards the bed, knowing that you're not going to be able to go to sleep without him beside you.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, trying so hard to try and pretend you're fine. "It was nothing."

Ghost shakes his head, cradling the back of your head. "No, nothing to be sorry for. We all get nightmares." He lays down on the bed first before gently pulling you down onto the bed with him. He gets you nice and comfy beside him, both of you now underneath the covers. "Close your eyes, I'm here. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you."

So you do. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of his heartbeat, letting it lull you into a deep sleep. And it's the best sleep you've had in months, side by side with Ghost.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[ghostsforghosts]

Closed Off!Reader

This is a masterlist for all of the Closed Off!Reader Drabbles. This reader is gender neutral and with Simon "Ghost" Riley.

(Yes, I know that I've made masterlists on my main blog and could just link the masterlist to my pinned post, however, I'm making new masterlists so that I can just update this instead of the old one when/if I expand this series. Yes I am linking posts made from my main blog, yes this is me.)

Ghost Slowly Gaining Your Trust

Ghost Taking a Bullet for You

You Going to Ghost in the Night

You Confessing Your Feelings for Ghost

This is a complete list and will most likely not be expanded upon!

[that1nerd-20]

When a fanfic writer puts a nickname you think Is icky in their smut fic

[yanderedrabbles]

A Very Yandere Valentine

In your desperation to make a man fall in love with you, you try a love spell. The results are...debatable.

February was your least favourite month for a reason. You were broke from Christmas, still single, and your resolution to go to the gym every week was coming along horribly. It was blistering cold, but without the holiday cheer and shopping sales to make the weather bearable.

And if all that wasn't enough, you were stuck seeing happy couples everywhere you looked. The Valentine themed ads were everywhere - you couldn't even watch YouTube without some company reminding you exactly how lonely you were.

But things were going to be different this year.

This year, you finally had a crush on someone. You finally had some chemistry to keep you from feeling like the most unlovable single in existence. This year, you were going to have your romantic, picture perfect Valentine’s Day.

Just one little issue. Your Valentine had a girlfriend.

Who he loved. Or at least claimed to. You were skeptical. Would a man in love follow you like a puppy? Would he open doors for you and bring you coffee every morning?

If he did that for everyone in the office, maybe you wouldn't be kneeling in a circle of candles at midnight. But no. He went out of his way everyday just for you. He wasn't a very talkative person, but when he followed you into the break room, you'd end up yapping for much longer than your HR would approve of.

He was different with you. You were special to him, you knew it in your heart.

You didn't realise he had a girlfriend until one of your other coworkers told you. And oh boy, wasn't that a fun revelation. At first you were hurt. Why was he leading you on if he had a partner? Were you reading too much into this whole situation? What if he was just being nice to you and you totally misinterpreted it?

You tried to put distance between you and him. Tried to respect that someone else had a claim to him, even if he might have been flirting with you.

It didn't work.

He would look at you with those liquid brown eyes and you'd feel your resolve and your morals just melting.

As you lit the last few candles for the ritual, you reminded yourself that at least you tried to be the better person. If this was a moral failing, it wasn't one that you gave into easily.

And maybe this was for the best. If he was comfortable enough to flirt with you, didn't that mean he wasn't happy in his relationship? If your silly little spell worked, it might give him the courage to finally break things off. It would be kinder to both him and his partner.

"It's fine if I'm doing it for love," you told yourself.

You lit the final candle and sat back on your heels. There was a shallow bowl in front of you, filled with milky white water. It certainly looked mystical with the candlight flickering across the surface. Now if it would just be mystical...

You picked up the first of your twelve roses - one for each month of the year. You plucked off the petals one by one and dropped them into the water. Like a more wiccan version of he-loves-me he-loves-me-not. With each petal, you tried to picture what you wanted from the relationship. Kindness. Loyalty. Consideration. Love.

It was easy to do. Your man was an easy man to love. You could already picture him in your home - making late morning pancakes in nothing but his sweats, sprawled on your couch reading one of your beat up paperbacks, in your bed. He was meant be yours, you could feel it. Why else-

"Ow! Shit, that hurt!" You looked down at your finger and the rose thorn embedded deep in your skin. Blood was already welling up around it.

"Goddamit. Why now?"

A single drop rolled off your finger and plinked into the bowl. It sunk past the rose petals and turned a small part of the water a sickly pinkish colour.

You carefully pulled the thorn out and stuck your finger in your mouth. It must have went in far deeper than you thought, because your whole finger throbbed. You looked down at the last rose left unplucked. So close to finishing...

You sighed and stood up, stepping carefully out of the circle. You were too worried about the chance of infection to finish your ritual. And besides, whatever daydreams you had weren't going to come back while you were still dripping blood all over the place.

In the bowl, the rose petals drifted until they covered the entire surface. When you emptied the bowl, you were too tired to wonder if the blood poisoned your spell. To tired to notice the petals curling up and wilting long before their time.

You woke up with a wine hangover and a throbbing pain all through your finger. Usually you'd power through it and go to work, but you didn't want to see your crush. Didn't want to be reminded that you were once again alone on Valentine's.

You called in sick to work, took some antibiotics for your finger and curled up under your duvet. As if the universe was sympathising with your mood, the low grey clouds that hung around all week finally burst. Cold February rain drummed on your windows while you picked out your favourite comfort movie.

Yet another romantic Valentine's all on your own. Lucky you.

You were just about drifting off when the knocking started. Loud and impatient at your front door, aggressive enough that you jerked out of bed with a yelp.

"Coming!"

You didn't have any parcels being delivered today, did you? And you certainly weren't expecting guests. Not in the middle of the week, and certainly not when it was so miserable outside.

You opened the door half expecting the person to be long gone. They couldn't have been here for you.

Your co-worker was standing on your threshold, still in his suit with his tie damp and askew.

"Y/n! Thank God, I was so worried about you."

You could only blink at him. How the hell did he know your address? You certainly never mentioned it. And what was he doing here in the middle of the work day?

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

You jumped. "Shit, sorry. Please come in."

You stood aside, self consciously trying to smooth down your hair. He was carrying a packet of some kind. He set it down on your kitchen table before shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it across the back of your chair. He was so oddly at ease in your apartment, like a man coming home after a long day rather than a guest in a new place.

You followed him, still feeling like this whole interaction was a fever dream. Maybe the rose thorn from last night really was poisonous and you were somehow hallucinating your office crush unpacking a whole slew of takeout onto your kitchen counter.

"Um..." You decided to abandon any ideas of tact. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't come into work today. Didn't even call me." He looked up at you. "I was worried about you."

"Oh." Despite the strangeness of this whole encounter, butterflies were fluttering in your belly. "You noticed I wasn't there?"

He shrugged and went back to arranging the stuff he brought. "I always notice you."

There were about half a dozen takeout containers, all from your favourite places. He continued, "I figured the weather must be getting to you, so I decided to check on you. Really y/n, you've got to tell me if you're not going to be around. I was frantic when you didn't show up."

It was so like him to turn a nice gesture into a lecture. So strict all the time, so proper. You couldn't help but smile - it was all part of what made you like him so much. All prickly on the outside, all care within.

He pulled out a chair and nodded at you to sit. His hair was slightly damp from the rain and falling loose from its carefully gelled back style. This was the most out of sorts you'd ever seen him. And all of it over you? Come on, how was a girl just supposed to ignore that?

He pushed your chair in behind you and leaned forward to pull a container closer to you, his arm right next to your ear and his cologne thick in your nose. Your heart leapt. He did the same thing at work all the time, one hand right by your shoulder as he pointed out your mistakes on the monitor. Maybe you were delusional, but would a guy who treasured his personal space - who stepped back whenever anyone else was within half a foot of him - really get so close to you if he didn't like you?

"Here, eat up. I got them to make it special." He was so close that his voice felt like a rumble more than anything else. You could almost feel it in your bones.

"Aren't you going to join me?" you asked.

"Nope. It's all yours."

He stayed behind you while you ate, his forearms crossed on the backrest. You were acutely aware of him watching you.

"What are you doing for Valentine's tonight?"

Were you sleep deprived or was there a hard edge to his voice when he asked you that?

"I might have a date later," you lied.

You didn't see it, but his grip on your chair tightened.

"Really? With who?"

"Just some friend from the gym."

You cringed internally. That was such a bad lie. You didn't even know anyone at the gym. You tried to change the topic.

"You? I'm sure you've got something planned with your girlfriend."

He was quiet for a moment, and then, "What girlfriend?"

Huh? You turned in your chair to look up at him. His expression was entirely serious.

"Your girlfriend? I asked Jenny from marketing and she said you were dating someone. That it was serious."

He raised a brow. "You were asking about my dating life?"

Crap. Too late to back down now.

"Mm-hmm. I was just curious. And you never really mentioned anything, so..."

"So you asked Jenny from marketing?"

Could the ground just do you a favour and swallow you now? That would be much lessless painful than admitting to your office crush that you were kind of, sort of stalking him.

"...yes? Look, I know it wasn't my place. And that I was totally invading your privacy. I'm really sorry. I can't imagine how uncomfortable I'm making you and honestly -"

"Y/n," he cut you off, "I don't have a girlfriend."

Huh?!

"But Jenny said -"

"Jenny is annoying and flirtatious. I just said that so she'd leave me alone."

"So I didn't have to do the love spell?"

You smacked a hand over your mouth. Too late. He tilted his head, smiling.

"The what?"

You turned away from him, your face on fire. Stupid love spell. Stupid brain. Stupid mouth that doesn't know when to shut up.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. You sure you don't want some of this soup? It's great. Really robust flavour."

He leaned down and grabbed your hand before you could pick up your spoon. His face was right next to yours but you'd rather swallow a cactus than face him after what you just admitted.

"Let me get this straight," he said, sounding unfairly amused. "You asked Jenny if I was dating someone. She said yes, and your solution to that problem - instead of just, y'know, asking me about it - was to do a love spell?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Lord in heaven, please have mercy and send a meteor right at my apartment. Just a little one, doesn't even have to be bigger than a car.

"I was really drunk, okay? And I just... I just didn't want to be alone on Valentine's. It's the same every year, and it sucks. I'm sorry. It was dumb and stupid and naive."

"Definitely all those things, yes."

You flinched. He ignored you and continued.

"Not to mention selfish, dangerous and honestly a little bit toxic."

"Yeah, I get it." And to think you called the lonely Valentine's the worst ones. You sighed, looked down at your lap. This day couldn't possibly get worse.

"Y/n."

He didn't wait for you to answer. He just kissed you. One hand pulling your jaw up towards him, the other still resting on the back of your chair and tangling itself in your hair.

You gasped, too shocked to either pull away or kiss him back. Was this really happening?

Slowly, you brought your hand up and ran it through his hair. And oh, he practically purred.

"Silly thing. Never needed a love spell to make me like you."

He pulled you to your feet, hands coming to your waist and thumbs tracing over your ribs. You felt electric, every little movement making you buzz.

"Been wanting to do this since the first day I saw you." Another kiss, deeper, longer, somehow even hungrier. "How couldn't you notice?"

You leaned against his chest, lightheaded. "I thought you were being nice."

He laughed and you could feel it rumbling through his chest. He dropped one hand to your mid thigh, squeezed.

"I'm never nice. If you knew all the things I was thinking whenever we were next to each other, you'd run for the hills."

You met his eyes, feeling brave. "What sort of things?"

He smiled, but his eyes were dark. For a second, it scared you.

"I could show you."

Was he offering what you thought he was? You could have been modest, could have simpered and pulled away and played the blushing coquette. But you'd be a liar if you said you didn't want this, that you hadn't wanted to be in this exact scenario for weeks.

"Please," you said, looping your arms around his neck. "Show me."

He picked you up by your thighs and sat you down on the counter, your legs around his waist. His palms came to rest on your hips, heat bleeding through the thin cotton of your pyjama pants.

"This." He kissed your neck.

"And this." He ran his hand down your thigh, his thumb just barely brushing the edge of your panties.

"And very much this." He cradled your face in his hands and kissed you, tongue darting past your teeth and filling your mouth with the taste of him.

He was still slightly chilly from being outside, but you were boiling up and the contrast was a relief. You kissed him back, not quite as bold but just as wanting.

Did your drunken love spell actually work? Or were you just the luckiest girl in the city?

He loosened his tie. "I've got all day. How about I give you the best Valentine's day you've ever had?"

"Where do you want to start?"

He smirked, toying with the hem of your shirt.

"Oh, I think you know exactly where I want to start."

You takeout grew cold on the counter and the rain stopped and the sun dipped below the skyline before he was done with you.

You were still panting underneath him, your hands tied to the headboard with his tie when he finally decided he was satisfied.

"Wow... I didn't realise you had it in you," you breathed.

He wiped his mouth on his forearm, a glistening trail of spit and spunk.

"Oh yeah? Thought I was too tight buttoned to have fun?"

It was silly to be embarrassed after all the things he'd heard you say, but still...

"I honestly thought you'd be a lot more vanilla."

He laughed and crawled up your body, until his hands were on either side of your head. He leaned down and pecked your nose.

"And now?"

"And now I'm wondering what I did to get so damn lucky. My karma must be amazing."

He undid your hands, deft fingers moving through a complicated set of knots and pulls. You smiled. Oh, he was definitely a boy scout at some point.

"You should eat something. You've lost a lot of...fluids."

That made you giggle.

"And whose fault is that?"

There were slight marks on your wrists and he careful rubbed them.

"Mine. Terribly sorry about it beautiful." He didn't sound sorry in the slightest.

You were wobbly when you stood up, and it was only his arm around your waist that kept you from falling straight back into bed.

"I'm staying over tonight, by the way."

It was so like him to just decide he was invited. Still, you were absolutely not complaining. It was exactly what you wanted too. Strange, how he almost always seemed to know exactly what you wanted.

You fell asleep tucked against his side, sore and aching in the best possible way. In the rational part of your mind, you assumed that your love spell was just a silly lapse in judgement brought on by too much wine and far too many rom-coms. But if you could see the way he watched you when you slept, you might have started to question that assumption.

He brushed your hair away from your forehead, half frowning.

"Silly thing. I've been in love with you for so long."

He glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table. Hopefully you wouldn't notice it, but he'd slipped a tiny camera behind the clock face. Same with your TV, bathroom mirror and the top of your fridge. There were at least half a dozen cameras hidden throughout your apartment.

Having you tied to the bed and distracted helped. You didn't notice him slipping off for just a bit longer than getting a glass of water or using the bathroom would warrant.

Unethical, yes. A total invasion of privacy. And if you ever found them, you'd be totally justified in getting a restraining order. But still...

"It's fine if I'm doing it for love," he told himself.

[chlosallow]

⋆.˚ ★— p links ✮⋆˙ star and chris

chris loves being gentle with star, even when she’s giving him head.

chris making sure he doesn’t hurt star while eating her out.

after a long day of overthinking and fights, chris wants to help calm down star.

chris doesn’t want to overwhelm star too much.

star loves when chris finally lets himself be a bit more touchy.

chris holding star close while he eats her out.

slow and soft sex with chris and star.

makeout session before chris worships stars body.

[yn-experience]

I love cool, mysterious Sung Jinwoo as much as the next person, but I also believe this guy is an absolute dumbass.

He’s so socially unaware that he could literally be in a dark room with people swinging a light as a guide and he’d still choose to walk straight into a wall in the dark because “what the fuck is that??”

If we’re looking at this romantically then the earliest example is novel Sung Jinwoo literally AVOIDING the nurses text messages. The same nurse who requested his phone number before he was discharged.

He couldn’t even fathom the idea of being known (whether romantically or not), but decided that he wasn’t going to touch that and immediately deleted the messages.

That might be the trauma talking for him, but it’s just so funny. The man literally said “nah” and returned to doing his own thing.

Now, I’m still going through the novel, finished the manwha, and have gone through the episodes of the anime so I’m still feeling him out — but I feel like Sung Jinwoo getting together with Chae Hae-in was simply because Hae-in matched his dumbass and just never left.

But with all that said, it’s why I can see him just unintentionally causing so much angst with his Reader.

And it’s all because he just DOESNT see it.

Reader could be so obviously pining and this guy would just shoulder pat cause “yeah, you’re also my friend I guess” and then turns away because a new shining notification popped up in front of his eyes.

He’s going to unintentionally friend zone SO hard to the SUN, and Reader is trying not to push, to not force anything on Jinwoo, he doesn’t even know that you like him so it’s not his fault, it’s just the way Sung Jinwoo is —

And then you hear about two S-rank hunters on a date at the amusement park.

You hear about Sung Jinwoo and Chae Hae-in together, his shadows standing at station to give them privacy.

…A date?

That didn’t sound like Jinwoo.

It had to be a friendly get together!

Jinwoo had never mentioned her before.

Jinwoo — Jinwoo has never really shown interest in others that way.

There is always a distance, a boundary of friendliness but never more.

You should know. Always the friend, never the lover. Having watched him since forever, not only with you but with others. You had come to expect the way Sung Jinwoo would avoid romance like a blind man trying to view the sun.

You knew —

But then you see them.

There’s a closeness there. It’s almost how it is between Jinwoo and you, but something is different. Something is… strange there.

Is it the way Cha Hae-in looks at the man with a softness in her gaze, a warmth that speaks of care?

Or is it the way Jinwoo is looking straight back at the woman, his gaze steady, unwavering, a smile that seemed just as fond?

You knew Jinwoo, you knew Sung Jinwoo, but had he ever once shown a face like that before? As if he was so very comfortable where he was?

… Oh.

Oh.

You understood now.

It wasn’t that Jinwoo didn’t know you liked him, it was that he didn’t want to be with you.

[zomgcaleb]

I need caleb to manhandle me because I didn’t take my vitamins </3

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

gojo is the type of bf to kiss you alllllll the time when you least expect it . i know he is. super casually and whenever he feels like it, no matter what you’re doing….. every time you so much as pucker your lips in thought he’s There and ready to smooch you :((((((( you’re sitting on the couch and reading? smooch. you’re cooking? smooch. you’re in the shower? smooch. how did he get in there? smooch. he’s insane and addicted and he loves you sosomuch……..

[the-whispers-of-death]

My mind went back to Closed Off!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley and I realized that I never wrote them confessing their feelings for each other. So this is that but if you haven't read this series of drabbles, it starts with this, then this, and finally this.

Okay, now onto the good part.

You're both just chilling in the recreational room of the base, just the two of you in the room. You and the 141 can't leave base, just in case there's a mission that suddenly comes up, so understandably, you're bored. But at least you're here with Ghost.

Over the past few months of working with him, you've grown rather fond of him and by now you are no longer in denial of your feelings. You know you feel more than friendship with this man, this man who painstakingly tore down all of your walls. He knows your past, every unflattering detail, and he's still here. Sitting right next to you.

"Ghost?" Your voice is a whisper, so oddly soft in this moment. You're usually not afraid to get loud, you're an intimidating person.

Ghost sets down the book he was reading to look at you and you know for a fact that he's raising an eyebrow beneath his balaclava at you. "What is it?" he asks, curious as to why you interrupted the nice peaceful silence that only happens when it's just the two of you.

Your palms start getting sweaty, but you manage to not show your nervousness too much. "I've been thinking about how close we've gotten since I first met you and the rest of the 141," you say, slowly building up your confidence. "You all mean a lot to me, more than I show it. But you, you especially mean a lot to me."

You're both facing each other now, looking into each other's eyes. Ghost has the most beautiful brown eyes and they've been in your dreams lately. You've been dreaming of them being filled with love and adoration, hoping he'll accept you as he has been doing for months.

"I thought at first that it was friendship, the strong connection you and I have." You take a deep breath to continue your sentence. "But I know now that it's more than that. I think about... kissing you, cuddling you in a more romantic way. I think about going on dates with you."

You let your words sink in and just as you're about to say that it's okay if he doesn't feel the same, Ghost speaks up.

"I like you romantically too," Ghost blurts out, his gruff voice so soft. He takes your hand in his. "I never thought I'd find someone to settle down with, especially not someone who was a fellow soldier like me. But I see something so wonderful with you. We're so similar, but we're different also. I can't stop thinking about your laugh, your smile. You're so amazing and bright beneath those walls of yours."

He lets his own words sink in and he leans in, slow in case you don't want the kiss he's offering. But you lean in as well, the kiss soft and tender. Your lips move in sync with each other's, like you're two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together.

It's everything you've ever imagined, so loving and so freeing. It's exhilarating and grounding all at the same time, making you feel safe and loved.

And after a mission comes up and is completed, Ghost takes you out on the perfect first date. It's one he knows you'd like because he listened to you when you told him about what you thought was a perfect first date.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[wildsaltair]

Security

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (fluff, with a tiny hint of hurt/comfort)

Word Count: 1.2k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: Very short little fic that I wrote sort of as a follow-up to Nightmare, but it works as a standalone one-shot too. As always, it's written with the fullest measure of my love, and it's representing all the longing y'all get to witness every day on this melodramatic blog. I love Maximus, and I hope this little fic does him justice :) Thank you for reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Your love is asleep beside you, breathing deep and slow against your neck. After yet another day of backbreaking work in the harvest, he’s exhausted, and all he had the strength to do was pull off his tunic and fall into bed beside you.

You are just as tired, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep just yet. You’re too transfixed by him.

In sleep, his face is so peaceful, so free from the worry lines and the intensity he wears through the day. In sleep, his face is relaxed and soft, surrendered to the safety he feels in your bed.

You smile knowing that sharing your bed is his first experience with sleeping so peacefully. He came to you wounded and hunted, having barely escaped an assassination attempt and with nowhere else to go. Though your first few months were fraught with distress and fear, you have both settled into your home with the knowledge that you are safe from the outside world, that his past has been laid to rest and left behind. He still carries his burdens, but they are easier to bear when he can release them at night.

You let your eyes trace over his features now, amazed as always at the sweetness and beauty of the man who holds your heart. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks, the lines beside his eyes less furrowed.

He’s sleeping as he usually does: on his back with your head on his chest, his left arm wrapped around your shoulders protectively, his head tilted against yours. His right hand clasps yours where it rests on his waist, moving gently every time he breathes.

Tilting your head back, you smile to yourself as the sounds of his deep breathing reach your ears. The sound only reassures you that he’s sleeping well, undisturbed by anything.

You often remember his first few nights with you — how after making love, he would lie awake for some time, trying to fall asleep. He was always on guard during those days, always attuned to any sign of trouble. He slept with one eye open for months.

And quite often, you would wake to find him up, making a round through the house or in the yard, paranoid about what could be lurking outside. Many were the nights you had to coax him back to bed, assuring him that no one had come for him in the night.

And the nightmares. Those terrible nightmares that plagued him for months.

Once, he awoke in the middle of choking you, having acted out of terror in the middle of a dream. You were afraid he would never trust himself to sleep with you again, but together you worked through it. He’s had nightmares many times since, but they have grown fewer and tamer in the past few months.

That thought makes you smile as well: knowing that your presence beside him at night helps keep his nightmares at bay.

As if in response, the man turns in his sleep, rolling onto his side to face you. He’s still sound asleep, his breath rumbling in his powerful chest, but his right arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to his body.

You are all too happy to snuggle closer to him. The nights have grown colder, and his body is a never-ending source of heat for your bed. You enthusiastically burrow into his embrace, tucking your head under his chin and tangling your legs with his.

Your heart warms knowing that he reaches for you even in his sleep. Many are the nights he has whispered your name in his sleep, groped his hands to find you in the night. Somehow his heart seeks you even when he sleeps.

He pulls you even closer, his breath softening as if he is stirring a little from his sleep, but he does not awaken. Shifting his weight to press against you more fully, he rubs one broad hand up and down your back, fingers brushing your spine.

Without meaning to, you arch your back in response, pushing your body tighter against his. He lowers his chin as though he were awake, dragging his lips across your forehead before coming to rest against the top of your head.

Your smile comes again, unbidden, warm as the heat radiating off his body.

So many nights, you have lain in this very bed and ached with loneliness. How many cold nights you spent huddled under blankets, wishing for a lover to share your home and bed, to fill you with a warmth that would go beyond your body. This man fills every empty spot in your heart, thrills and soothes and pleasures you in every possible way.

And what a joy it is to know that you have done the same for him, that your love is his safety, his delight, and his peace.

With a knot of emotion rising in your throat, you tilt your head back to press the lightest of kisses against his exposed neck. He stirs slightly, his breath ghosting across your ear, and you just rest your lips against his neck to breathe in his scent.

Earth, sweat, and something else distinctly him. It’s a scent you now associate with comfort, companionship, and warmth.

You kiss him again, wanting to touch him somehow even though he’s asleep. His neck is smooth and warm under your lips, and he stirs again, this time shifting his arms closer around you. He tilts his head a bit to the side as if to give you better access.

Then he makes a sound, almost a moan, almost a sleep-muddled whisper, but you know it’s your name. It’s your name he murmurs in his sleep, when he feels your gentle brushes of affection against his skin.

You smile against his neck, resting your mouth there so he won’t awaken. He remains tensed a moment longer, so you lightly run your hands over him to soothe him back to a deep sleep.

His muscles are coiled under your touch, every inch of his body a tribute to softness and strength. His chest moves against yours slowly, and you gently rub your hands over his ribs, his sides, his hips. He finally relaxes, sighing contentedly as he drifts back into a deeper sleep.

Just before he does, though, you feel him lift his hand, stroke it down the back of your head once. His fingers tangle in your hair, and he nuzzles your face gently, brushing his smooth skin and spiky beard against your cheek.

He hums with pleasure, settles himself against your body, then buries his head in your neck and falls back to sleep.

You follow him soon after, cradling him in your arms while you listen to the steady cadence of his breath and the lovely thump of his heartbeat. You thread your fingers in his dark hair until your strength fades into sleep, just long enough to feel him relax completely in your arms.

All the lonely nights, all the sorrow, all the uncertainty — it’s all been worth it for this moment, and for all the moments that have come before and will come after.

Your love is asleep in your arms, whispering your name and holding you close to his chest, and you can both sleep in the peace and satisfaction of a love that transcends everything else.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[iratempestatis]

I really like to think of Xiao as the youngest of the Yakshas, since his name 魈 (mountain demon) sounds similar to Xiao (小, small), which gives me an excuse to make the Yakshas call him Xiao Xiao, so small Xiao <33

Teeny Xiao <33. Baby Xiao <3. The thought of him being spoiled by his big siblings brings me sm joy

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Vague Details

|| Vi x fem!reader

|| Warnings; brief swearing, mentions of trauma, Vi's private about her past, little dialogue, very short drabble

|| Summary; another day goes by and reader still hasn't learnt anything of her girlfriend's past.

Requests closed!

Started; December 17th

Finished; December 17th

HurtCember2024; Day 15, Trauma

~~~

Vi's been through shit. You knew enough to know your girlfriend packed a lot of trauma in her mind. You would always try to get her to open up, tell you about what happened. A glimpse past the vague details. She never would. That didn't stop you from trying, though.

Today was another one of those days where you decided to just give it a try. Hoping to even just get a peek over the wall she'd placed between the two of you. You and Vi were cuddled up on your couch, just lounging and enjoying the rare quiet afternoon. You looked up at Vi, her eyes meeting yours. She could already tell what you were going to ask before it was even out. You always had that same worried look in your eyes.

"Not today, cute face," Vi told you. You huffed at that and she couldn't help feeling a little amused by your pouty lip. It's cute that you thought that would work on her when it never did. Her finger flicked your lip, a smirk tugging on her own," not gonna work, Y/N/N."

"Ugh," you whined. Slumping completely against Vi. Your arms loosely resting on her shoulders. Keeping your eyes locked on hers. Why wouldn't she tell you? Didn't Vi trust you? Part of trust was sharing your past with each other, right? You felt like you knew nothing about Vi. You knew she had a sister and that her parents had been gone for a while. Maybe as long as you'd been dating her, maybe longer. You hardly knew anything besides the basics.

It was like you'd been dating a stranger for the last year. Obviously, you knew all the present things about Vi. Her favourite colours, her passions, favourite foods, etc. Her past was a completely mystery and at this point.. you were sure it would stay that way. You were determined to get her one of these days.

[seleneprince]

What are Cassandra Cain thoughts on the Perez family and was she part of the batfam during the neglect?

She’s my precious baby, but I know she is loyal to Bruce. But also the Perez' wouldn't last if she was there, she knows everything.

So I'm wondering if like Duke she arrives later and decides to embrace them? Like, how can you look at Rosa loving her kids and not be like "I want that 😢." Specially with the insanity that are Cass' bio parents.

It would be funny because Cass isn't as sweet as she is usually portrayed, she can and will beat a bitch, (that bitch usually being Jason. I don't remember correctly but I think the only batboys she doesn't throw hands with are Tim and Duke) she is the same fighting level as Bruce too 😭

Also, she strikes me more as a mommy's girl than daddy's girl but I can't confirm, cause well, her mama is absent 😶

Oh boy, that's a good question.

First of all, I start this by admitting that I don't know about Cassandra as much as the other characters, so I apologise for any slight innacuracies. That said, it's hard to keep up with DC's canon these days. But I confirm, she's only chill with Tim, I think. She has thrown hands with all the batboys at some point, specially Jason ashsdf. Only Tim and Duke are safe as far I've seen.

Now, to answer the question:

Everyone in the family knows that Rosa forced Bruce into the marriage because she knows their identities and threatens to expose them otherwise. So, yeah, they're all kinda pissed at her and resentful. Cassandra is no exception. She first views her stepmother as this evil golden digger who used vile ways to get Bruce and her kids low-key as opportunists just like her, but the thing with Cassandra is, as we know, that she can see things most people can't.

Before Duke arrives, she already clocked the Perez family weren't all what they seemed. Like you said, Rosa has her flaws and she's not really a good person, but she loves her kids more than anything. Literally most of the shit she does is for them. Cassandra finds it hard to think of her as this pure evil villain when she sees her brushing her oldest daughter's hair before school even though she protests she's old enough, or when she ruffles Marco's hair with the softest eyes, or when she's teaching her youngest daughter how to bake sweets she likes as a bonding activity. She might be cold and untrustworthy with the Bruce, but when it comes to her children, she seems like an entirely different person. Her eyes turn the softest she's ever seen, and her hands are always so gentle and tender with them. Just the way she handles leaves no doubts that it's true love.

And Cassandra can't help but think that a woman capable of such love can't be all bad. And deep down, a part of her wishes she could have that. Regardless, she doesn't go out of her way to bond with her because, like you said, her loyalty is with Bruce first.

It's different with Bruce's daughter and the twins, since she doesn't really resent them at any moment. She out of all people can't blame others for their parents' crimes, but she's definitely part of the neglect. She doesn't do it on purpose, she just...doesn't know how to approach them. They have nothing in common. She can't relate to them the way she does with the others. For someone who already struggles with social interaction and mostly relies on hanging out with people equally fucked up as her (aka the batfam), well, you can guess.

Besides, reminder that the Perez family have resided on the other side of the manor since their arrival and have spent all the years until the current timeline leading separate lives from the Batfamily. The only times they're all in the room together are on the rare occassions they all have family dinners, because the Perez family go as far to make different schedules to never eat in the same table with them unless there's no choice. Cassandra only sees them when they cross paths around the house, which it's not often, and they barely talk. That doesn't give her enough material to read them properly and figure out their secrets. Plus, as bad as it sounds, she's not interested to. They're the normal ones of the family, who aren't involved in the bloody bussiness of crime fighting, who don't have to go through the same hell. They can simply enjoy the luxury and safety of being civilians.

They're not...tainted, like her.

In her head, she even convinces herself it's for protection. She doesn't want to ruin the perfect picture of normal family they have (again, she doesn't interact enough with them to notice the cracks), so she thinks its reasonable to keep them away. She can't bond with them anyway. Nor reach a mutual understanding. They're too different. Opposite worlds and all of that.

Instead, she's content on catching glimpses from afar, of what they have, what she could've had in another life, and move on.

That's it, until the Signal and Red Hood find her in that state after falling off the window. On the verge of death, and no one knows what happened or how, or why she was even there. Cassandra looks at her as she lays in the hospital bed, unconscious and recovering, and feels the crushing weight of her guilt. Her failure. Because she definitely blames herself, just like Jason. Ironic. She thinks she failed as a sister. That in her determination to keep her safe, she did the oppposite.

Eventually, when the Perez family are forced to interact more with the Batfam due to some circumstances that happen later, Cassandra gets to see them in another light. Now she interacts with them more often. There's no hiding, no running away, no avoiding. And being Cassandra, she's the first to clock the loopholes in their facade. She knows they're hiding something, have been for a long time, but can't figure out exactly what because they're elusive as fuck.

But she also sees more of Rosa's motherly affection, the twins being endearing (when they're not pranking the batfam) and N! Daughter being more than just this spoiled rich girl with no problems in her life. And the more she sees....the more she wants to be part of it.

[starvoidlover]

Sooo cuteee 🥰♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

[chlosallow]

star and chris in the beginning of their relationship

in which... the dynamic between star and chris in the beginning

warnings: slight angst, small touches, just a lot of learning about chris and star!!

for the anon who asked how chris and star were in the beginning of their relationship that i accidentally deleted …

chris and star had laid in bed after finally making it official. no cuddling, no making out, just fingers brushing against each others, laying on opposite sides of the bed. staring into each others eyes, soft faces and silent looks. chris had just let his heart out to star, confessing his love to her and telling her he wants it official. she knew that was all he had in him for the day, even if she wanted more. even if she wanted cuddles, she knew he’s already said more about his feelings today than he ever has in their time knowing each other. so she doesn’t push him to touch her more, to cuddle or kiss, she just soaks in the new feeling of being able to be with chris, the boy she thought would never admit to liking anyone, nonetheless her.

chris never took star out on dates. and star really never minded either. being out in front of people staring at her, making her mind run a million thoughts per second, thinking everyone is judging her every move. and that’s exactly why chris never went out with her. he saw the way her eyes darted when they go on simple grocery runs or when they go to order fastfood. so he always set something up at the house for her. a movie night, a dinner date night, a video game night if she really wanted. he’s make sure anything she was in the mood for was perfect, setting up every candle, making sure every blanket she loves the most is out for her and cleaned, making sure the temperature is perfect for her, and making sure she has all of her favorite late night snacks. and star was always wrapped up in comfort with everything he did for her on those nights, even if he wasn’t physically touching her.

chris and star never fought. not really, at least. and when they did it ended quickly because neither of them liked seeing the other upset. but sometimes with everything they both hold in from the other, not wanting to overwhelm anyone, they explode at times. with star and her overthinking about the lack of chris touching her and talking about feelings with her, the thoughts take over her mind. and with chris and his want to never accept his own feelings, nonetheless talk to someone else about them, he got too overwhelmed when star started asking questions about those feelings.

when times like these came up, it was star asking questions, “why don’t you ever communicate properly?” “do you not want to be with me anymore?” “is it something i’m doing to make you scared to talk to me?” and chris attempting to answer every question, “i’m just not good at.. talking..?” “i want to be with you, im just not good at showing it.” “god no.. nothing you’re doing is scaring me.”

the times when chris did let himself touch star more than just hands brushing against each others, it meant the world to star. she would savor the moment and think about it for the next week. a simple hand on her thigh, chris letting her lay her head on his chest during movie night, her head laying on chris’s lap while he runs his fingers through her hair. star never asked to have the touch either. chris would just grab star’s hand gently and place her where he wanted her at the moment. star would freeze, as if she was waiting for him to change his mind and tell her nevermind. but when he didn’t, she let her body relax, his eyes fluttering shut and a smile on her lips, relishing in the feeling of his touch.

sometimes when chris had a day where he over getting upset over little things, just overstimulated by the world, he’d sleep on the couch. star could see he was upset and she knew it wasn’t her fault but her mind played tricks on her. so on those nights, she’d never sleep. millions of scenarios going through her head of what she could have done to make chris upset, replaying the day and every interaction she had with him.

the next mornings weren’t always smooth sailing. star was exhausted, still thinking she had done something wrong and wanting to talk to chris about it. but she always held it back, knwoing chris wouldn’t budge about his feelings. so she always shut herself down, closing in on herself and her voice never left her lips. not even to say a sweet good morning to chris. she’d be stuck in her head on those days and chris saw that. but he never said anything. he knew it would get into a deep conversation he didn’t want to get into, so he let star suffer in her thoughts, letting her close herself off.

[ghost-proofbaby]

okay no but bbf!perv!eddie unable to stop his hand from lingering a liiiitttle too long on your skin after he slaps the tattoo. obv he cant do anything too rough (although he would give anything to just be able to dig his fingers in to the soft skin there), but that's almost WORSE because instead you're aware of every one of his fingers on your overly sensitive skin, the warmth of his palm against your stinging ass, both soothing and burning at the same time

he doesn't even realise he's doing it, and you peek over your shoulder and nearly get a jumpscare at just how intense he looks - eyes fixed on where he's touching you, the boy is practically vibrating from holding himself back

HELPPPPPP

he should probably pull away.

he knows he should. he’s well aware his touch has long out-lingered its welcome on your warm skin. but he can’t. he tells his hand to drop, to come back to him, to just fall anywhere else but your ass — all his fingers do in response are curl into the flesh, feeling the soft muscle beneath his joints and his breath catch painfully between his ribs.

all he can do is squeeze softly and stare at where his skin is meeting yours. all he can do is continue to take abnormally deep breaths, teetering on the verge of gasping as his stare starts to burn hotter than where he’d slapped your skin.

“e-eddie?”

you’re all nervous laughter and wide eyes, and it almost makes it worse when you stutter out his name. somewhere between a plea and a sigh, falling between the raveens of asking him to stop touching you and begging him to never stop.

“sorry,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t move.

“can you…” can you move your hand? can you stop driving me insane? can you stop looking at me like some helpless prey and igniting this damned warmth in my belly that is 10 seconds from turning this entire friendship to ash? “can you do it again?”

eddie munson’s heart officially stops. the last and hardest beat of it echoes in his silent chest and he’s looking up at you wildly, stunned, quietly. for the first time since he’s met you, his tongue has become a foreign and heavy object not fit for his instruction.

and you take his silence as a no. you take his silence as you pushing too far and projecting one too many fantasie onto him for a final time. you take his lack of response as a you just fucked everything up, idiot.

“i’m- fuck, i’m sorry,” you start, “forget i ask-“

“again?”

his hand finally moves, and it’s trailing down now, fingers dancing along the back of your thigh in unsure movements. not ready to no longer feel you. not ready to leave the moment.

piqued interest, palpable curiosity, buzzing eagerness — there’s not one sliver of disgust in his tone.

it’s the only reason you’re brave enough to wear a fragile smile as you nod, cheek lowering to the pillow as you say it more surely this time, “again.”

this time, the slap is more deliberate.

and this time, it lands where you want it. between the apex of your thighs, stinging in a way far more pleasurable than before, making you cry out a bit more surely this time.

maybe it’s his sudden smirk. maybe it’s his dark eyes. or maybe it’s that goddamn tent in his pants and the wet spot he can’t hide from you.

yeah. he’ll do it again. he’ll do it as many times as you ask for it, because this time, he gets it.

you both get it.