#gender neutral fanfic

[deathc-re]

your older!bf who has really opened your eyes to the world of mature men. who truly listens when have a complaint and works to fix it. who shows you that he adores you, even in his own strange way. who goes out of his way to spoil you and pamper you; who always makes sure you have the best of the best.

older!bf who literally is the best sexual experience you've had in your whole life. who does things you didn't even think were possible. who makes you feel levels of pleasure you'd only read about until this point. who pays such close attention to ever twitch and flinch and gasp and abuses ever spot that brings you pleasure. who reaches places so deep inside that you're surprised feels good instead of painful. who goes above and beyond with aftercare, making you feel so safe and secure. who makes sure you're well feed and clean, your favorite show or song playing as he cuddles you close.

older!bf who wastes no time to show you off and shower you in praise. who compliments every aspect of you, some you didn't even notice about yourself. who respects and knows you as a person. who is secure enough in himself and the relationship to know that even tho you're together, you're your own separate people and is fine with it.

older!bf who is protective of you and takes the extra measures to make sure you're safe in every situation he can, no matter what.

older!bf who loves you :(

LAW, corazon, sir crocodile, bakugo, aizawa, FAT GUM, sung-jin woo, andy, GETO, and my man <3

[cece693]

MY JEALOUS GOD

pairing: loki laufeyson x gender neutral reader synopsis: You didn't anticipate falling into a relationship with Loki—who would?—yet while everybody knew he was the god of mischief, to you, he's your jealous god.

The first sign something is off is the smell of petrichor in the living-room. You’d left the windows shut, but there it is: the scent of rain on stone, the signature Loki’s magic often leaves behind when he appears or, more ominously, when he’s been brooding. You round the corner and find him lounging on your couch, boots on the cushions, one arm draped over the back like a cat who’s caught the red dot and now wonders what to do with it.

“Evening,” he purrs, voice all velvet knives. “Did you have fun at Stark’s little soirée?”

You shrug out of your jacket, the lining still warm from Stark Tower’s overheated ball-room, and drape it over the brocade armchair by the hearth. A faint metallic tang of repulsor exhaust still clings to the fabric—a souvenir of Tony’s annual “low-impact” fireworks display.

“Fun enough,” you say, massaging the crick in your neck. “Tony’s birthday parties feature far fewer homicidal drones these days—small mercies—but it would’ve been considerably more enjoyable if my favorite god hadn’t ghosted before dessert.”

Loki’s smile thins. “Your dance card appeared congested.”

The archaic phrasing is deliberate, a rapier flick from a prince raised on court formalities. You know exactly which name hides behind the euphemism: Peter Parker, cheeks redder than Stark’s armor, tugging at a too-tight bowtie while begging you for “just one dance.” When FRIDAY obligingly queued a crackling waltz from 1912, you’d accepted to save the poor kid from spontaneous combustion and to keep Natasha from collecting wagers on whether he’d faint.

“Peter’s pulse only spikes to dangerous levels when I’m near,” you remind Loki gently, toeing off your shoes. “Because he’s nineteen, Loki—”

“Twenty,” Loki interjects, tone glacial. “I checked the records.”

“—fine, twenty. He idolizes everyone with an Avengers passcode. Our waltz lasted 90 seconds and ended with him apologizing for stepping on my feet.”

“Yet long enough for you to laugh,” Loki murmurs, verdant eyes darkening. The words carry neither accusation nor injury—something colder, older, like frost creeping across glass. Outside the window lightning flickers, though the forecast promised clear skies.

You cross to him, letting your hand skim his shoulder until frost becomes warmth. “One laugh, one spin, no hearts stolen. You, darling, occupy all available real estate here.” You tap your sternum.

Loki’s lips curl in a silken crescent, but the flicker behind his lashes is anything but serene. Emerald irises catch the lamplight, bright as storm-lit seawater—an omen you’ve learned to read the way sailors read cloud fronts.

You plant your hands on your hips. “Loki,” you say, drawing out every syllable like a sharpening stone, “what did you do?”

He splays a hand across his chest in wounded theater. “Must you presume mischief every time I inhale?”

“Yes.”

A beat. His shoulders slump in an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I may have redirected young Parker’s web-shooters.”

“Redirected how?”

“Up.”

“Loki!”

He waves a dismissive hand, as though you’ve merely noted the weather. “Midgardian gravity is pathetic. The boy dangled for what?—fifty two seconds before Rogers hauled him in. Perfectly safe.”

Your glare could etch glass. “And the glitter bomb that detonated on Clint?”

A flick of irritation crawls up Loki’s brow ridge—caught, again. You press on.

“I was having a perfectly calm chat with him about Lucky adjusting to farm life,” you remind him, tone sharpened to surgical steel. “Clint was mid-sentence—something about the dog finally not chasing tractors—when this puff of emerald smoke swallowed him whole. Next thing I know, he’s radioactive-pink from head to tactical boots.”

A half-smile curls Loki’s mouth, wicked as a fox in the henhouse. “Yes. I refined the pigment with bifrost dust—gives it that delightful day-glow sheen.”

“Which is now ground permanently into SHIELD-issue Kevlar.”

“An upgrade,” Loki counters. “Barton’s wardrobe needed flair.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I leave you alone for two hours—”

“You left me alone with them.”

The soft snarl on “them” tells the truth: Loki never felt comfortable in the Avengers’ tower, tolerated largely because of you. Their wary stares scratch old wounds he pretends have healed. Tonight, seeing you laugh—actually laugh—with the people who once hunted him? Salt in the fracture.

You exhale and join him on the couch, prying his booted feet off the cushions. They thunk to the floor. “Talk.”

“Must we?” His gaze flicks to the ceiling, expression somewhere between tragic poet and sullen teenager. “You looked radiant. They ogled you like magpies. I grew irritated.”

“Jealous.”

He scoffs, but the word loosens him. “Yes. Jealous. There. I despise how it feels—like being chained again, only the shackles are inside my ribs.”

Your annoyance softens. You catch Loki’s chin, turning his face until emerald meets your gaze. “If you need reassurance, ask. Don’t rig equipment or hex people. Use your words.”

His lips quirk. “I have many words. Most of them sharp.”

“Then learn soft ones.” You brush your thumb across his lower lip. “Tell me the truth instead of setting glitter‐traps and letting innocent people hang from the ceiling.”

A silence stretches, broken only by the faint hum of Manhattan traffic. Finally, Loki exhales the breath he has been hoarding for pride.

“Very well. The truth: I watched you toss your head back laughing at Clint's joke and it felt like frostbite. I wanted that sound kept for me alone. I imagined Parker’s mask cracking under illusion spiders; I pictured Stark’s suit misfiring champagne across his face. I thought of a dozen vicious things, all because you smiled.”

You let the confession settle. His jealousy is a thunderstorm—beautiful from afar, dangerous when you’re underneath. But storms can be guided.

“You’re allowed to want,” you say slowly, “and I’m allowed friends. The line is harm, Loki. Pranks that bruise bodies or egos cross it.”

He leans in, voice low. “I will try. But understand: my nature is not serenity. It is wind and wildfire. I can shape it for you, but extinguish it? Never.”

You press a kiss to his forehead—just there, where the crown would sit if he still wore one. “I don’t want it extinguished. Just channeled.”

His shoulders relax, mischief dimming to ember. “Then give me a target suitable for such channeling.”

“I have one. The dishwasher’s broken again.” You gesture toward the kitchen. “If you must hex something, hex the water jets. Make them behave.”

It earns you a surprised laugh, warm and genuine. “Very well, my love. I will wage war upon domestic inconveniences.” Loki rises, cloak swirling into existence with theatrical flare. “But first—”

He snaps his fingers. A soft pop sounds behind you. You turn to see a potted hydrangea now placed in the middle of the coffee table. Petals the deepest green—the exact shade of his eyes. A peace offering formed from silent magic instead of spite.

“Soft words,” he murmurs, stepping close enough that his breath fans your ear. “And softer deeds.”

You twine your fingers with his. “Keep practicing, Mischief-Prince. I’m a patient teacher.”

He smirks. “And I, an attentive student—provided the lessons are interactive.” You roll your eyes but tug him toward the kitchen nonetheless. Behind you, the hydrangea’s petals shimmer, shedding a faint glitter that—mercifully—stays on the plant.

[blue-sky336]

Hard Launching

Summary: Iida finds it amusing how much you enjoy posting him on your Instagram Characters/Pairings: Iida x reader, fem!Reader Warning: smau, fem!reader but that's simply due to the pfp i picked, minor mention of the incident with Iida's brother, established relationship, no war becuase I still haven't finished watching past s2 💀 Word Count: ~500 A/N: This is my first time writing anything mha related!! my bad to anyone using a pc or laptop, i fear the layout might not be as aesthetic as i've planned LMAO

It had only been two hours since you posted the sweet photo of Iida and your local stray, and yet for some reason you couldn't help but yearn to post more. An abundance of photos had been compiled in your phone's gallery, so many to the point where your phone had taken upon itself to make a personal folder just for your sweet boyfriend, Tenya Iida. Most were of him resting against your chest, dark hair messily spread across his face as he slept soundly against your warm skin, while others were more serious, such as the professional photos taken of him at sports events. Every single photo held a memory, whether it be enjoyable or embarrassing and you planned to treasure every single one of them.

While you were already pressing the small plus at the bottom of your screen, Iida had found his way towards your spot on the lounge. Your eyes flickered upwards and your face softened into a sweet smile. The relationship you shared had been built upon mutual trust and a genuine bond. You were there for him when his brother was injured, pushing him until he finally opened up. In many ways, that was the beginning of your gentle relationship. You sighed at the thought, something that Iida had picked up on almost instantaneously. He set himself down next to you, arm gently wrapping around your waist to pull you into his warm chest. It had been two years since graduation, and five years since you first started dating. Although he had been rather shy with any displays of affection in the beginning, he was completely comfortable now.

"I saw your post.." He whispered into your ear, the cool frame of his glasses brushing against your cheek as he leaned in to rest his head against your shoulder. Your cheeks flushed, nose scrunching up as you recognised the subtle hint of amusement settled deep beneath his words. "Did you like it?" Your eyes lit up at his small nod against your warm skin, feeling the soft touch of his lips against your cheek.

Iida couldn't stop that gentle smile that spread across his face at your words. He found it silly how desperate you were to finally announce to the world that you were dating through your socials. You'd taken a long break after an incident in highschool, hence why you were only now hard launching your boyfriend across your Instagram feed. He gave a gentle nod and soft hum, his hand squeezing your waist before he finally spoke again.

"I love it.."

[6rookie-writer0110]

I’m holding out

Yelena Belova x Reader (Gender-Neutral)

You are on a mission with your girlfriend Yelena. Before the mission, you and Yelena were affectionate towards each other. She was away for weeks but when she came back, she didn't leave your side at all.

But that changed when Yelena heard you talking to Valentina at the compound. You are in the coldest country in Europe and you are in the middle of the woods with Yelena.

“Yelena, listen to me!” You yelled

“No! Y/N you lied to me! All this time!” Yelena yelled back

She just kept walking away. She is heading to the frozen lake, you and Yelena have to cross the lake to reach the hideout of the enemy.

“I’m sorry. But Valentina made me spy on you and Natasha. I stopped reporting to her when I caught feelings for you” You said

“I don't believe you. You know I don't trust her now I don't trust you, Y/N Y/L/N” Yelena said

“Yelena, you can trust me,” You said

“No,” Yelena said

She kept walking and you sighed heavily.

What about us?” You asked

“There is no us,” Yelena said

“That’s it? We are done?” You asked

From the beginning, you knew that Yelena and Natasha don't trust Valentina. You worked for Valentina, she wanted you to make them trust you and report everything that they do. When you caught feelings for Yelena, you stopped reporting to Valentina. That made her angry and she started to threaten you.

“I’m sorry, Yelena,” You said

“I don't believe anything you say, Y/L/N. You are her toy. What you and Valentina would have a sleepover and talk about me and Natasha” Yelena said

“I don't have sleepovers with her. Just let me explain “ You said

You and Yelena started to argue while walking on the frozen lake. It's the only way, to the hideout to grab the secret codes USB.

You and Yelena kept arguing. But you stepped on a crack before you could say a word or move, you fell into the ice-cold water. You start to panic, you start to swallow water and your body starts to feel numb. You tried to swim towards the light, but you fell deep and you were not swimming fast enough.

“Y/N, tell me. Was it all a lie to you? What you said that night, was it a lie?” Yelena asked

She waited for your answer,

“Oh, now you can't talk? You need her permission?” Yelena said

She stopped and then turned around. She noticted the hole in the lake and your beanie on the ice. She runs towards the hole, you still haven't come up for air.

“Y/N!” Yelena yelled

She starts to panic and then makes the hole bigger. She didn't think of a plan, she just jumped in the water. She sees you and you are passed out, and she starts to swim toward you. She put her arm around you then she started to swim, she did struggle but didn't give up. She made it to the surface and she was breathing extremely hard, she struggled to bring your body out of the water. She starts to tap your face but you don't wake up. She opened your mouth and started CPR on you, she did it a few times then you started to cough up water.

“Y/N, hey look at me,” Yelena said

Your vision is a blur and you are shivering excessively. You started to tumble and she didn't understand you. She stands up and makes you stand up. She takes off her jacket and beanie and puts it on you. You almost fell but she quickly grabbed you,

“Hey hey… look at me I will get warmed up soon enough but for now don't close your eyes,” Yelena said

You don't say anything and you don't stop shriving.

✯ ✫ ✯ ✫

You and Yelena are staying at a cabin. She made you sit down then she started to add wood to the fireplace then she lit the fire. She rushed to get you undressed then she brought dry clothes and helped you put them on.

“Y/N, how are you feeling now?” Yelena asked

“Still cold,” You said.

Yelena took you to bed and helped you lie down. She grabbed the extra blankets and put them over your body. She went to take a long hot shower later, she went to check up on you. You are still sleeping, then she lies next to you. She put her hand on your cheek

“What, am I going to do with, Y/L/N” Yelena whispered

She kissed your forehead then kissed you on the lips, but you don't wake up. Her thumb gently caresses your cheek, she keeps staring at you. She moved closer then she put her arm around you. She presses her forehead on yours and she closes her eyes.

Yelena woke up hours later. She checks your temperature by putting her hand on your forehead, your body is warm. She gets out of bed and heads to the fireplace. She grabbed more wood and put it in the fireplace. She heads to the kitchen and she starts to make soup.

You start to open your eyes and you are still feeling cold. You sit up and you get out of bed, but you wrap the blanket around your body. You head to the kitchen and Yelena places the bowls on the table. She saw you, she ran towards you. Before you can say a word she started to kiss you. She has her hands on your face and you continue to kiss her.

“Yelena, I-”

She kept kissing you and you didn't say anything else. You kept kissing her and you put your arms around her.

“I was going to wake you up. I made Ukha. Eat, you need it” Yelena said

“Thank you for saving me,” You said

She watches you sit down and you slowly start to eat the soup.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” You asked

You continue to eat the soup. She sits down and she starts to eat her soup.

“How are you feeling?” Yelena asked

“Still cold but the soup is helping make my body warm,” You said

“I forgive you, Y/L/N” Yelena said

“You don't have to say my last name. I thought you hated me” You said

“I don't hate you. If i hated you, I would have left you in the lake to freeze death. And I still trust you. Do you still keep in contact with her?” Yelena said

“I stopped when we first started dating. Sorry, I messed up the mission” You said

“Don't apologize. You need to get better then we will do the mission. I don't want you to pass out in the middle of the mission when we have to fight” Yelena said

You just nodded and continued to eat. Later, you cuddle with your girlfriend in bed. She has her arms around and her hand under your shirt. You and Yelena just lie in bed together. She gives you a peck on the lips and you just smile at her.

[star-centric]

Hydrangea (Frigid, Heartless) || Riddle

MEANING: “Hydrangea symbolizes heartfelt emotions. It can be used to express gratitude for being understood. In its negative sense hydrangea symbolizes frigidity and heartlessness. There remains some debate over the hydrangea’s symbolism – with some connecting it to vanity and boastfulness and others suggesting that a bouquet of hydrangea expresses the giver’s gratefulness for the recipient’s understanding.”

A/N: I realize that I’ve been having a lot of soft prompts so I decided to try my hand with something not as much (but it still got soft in the end lmao).

CW: gender neutral reader, Riddle and MC are mean to each other in the beginning but they make up (kinda) in the end

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

“What is your problem?!”

You snapped, slamming your hands on the table. You didn’t want to cause a scene, but at this point you didn’t care, shooting a nasty glare at Riddle.

The Housewarden narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth. “My words shouldn’t give you the means to act like a child—“

“And you don’t have a right to speak to me that way!” You shot back. “I don’t understand what your deal is, but I refuse to be disrespected— especially by someone like you.”

You could feel Grim tense up on your shoulders, urging you to walk away before you both found your necks in collars, but you shrugged him off. Riddle’s eyes widened, voice growing tense. “By someone like me? You should be grateful that I’m even wasting my time being here with you.”

You scoffed. Grateful? You should be grateful to him? The same boy that’s done a complete heel turn and has now been belittling you for the last few weeks? All you could do was let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. It was the only way you could try and keep your sanity without resorting to something worse.

“Yeah, I should be grateful to the guy who runs his dorms like a tyrant and has all of his students scared of him.”

“They are not scared of me—“

“Right, they’re just intimidated.”

You could see the tip of Riddle’s ears turning red, but you kept going.

“You know Riddle, I want to feel bad for you but you make it so hard for me to. You were nice to me when I first got here, and I don’t know why all of a sudden you changed, but it’s the reason why you’ll always be alone.”

People across the lunchroom turned their heads staring at you two, whispering amongst one another. Riddle’s grip tightened on the table. Seeing you get a rise out of him gave you satisfaction, and you wanted to get more under his skin.

“The only person you might have is Trey, but it’s only because he’s nice enough to pity you and to be your yes-man.” You leaned in closer, him gritting his teeth and his face growing red by the second.

“At the end of the day, all you’ll have is your useless rules and your magic by your side.” You put on a mocking tone. “Maybe Trey but that’s if he keeps feeling bad for you, but I doubt it.”

“All you do is push people away, and I can’t wait until the day it’s too late for you to realize that.” You spat out.

“MC, that’s enough—“

“And what do you know?!”

Riddle shouted, silencing the entire room.

“You don’t know anything about me or this world! You come to this place that you know nothing about and cause turmoil and chaos for everyone you cross.” Riddle was shaking, chest heaving.

“And I will not be spoken down to by a disgusting rule breaker who not only doesn’t know their place but doesn’t belong here to begin with—“

“Rosehearts, MC— both of you stand down, now.”

Crowley’s voice cut through the air, and Riddle huffed and threw his arm down. It didn’t even register that he was going to use his signature spell on you.

You didn’t know whether to get angrier or be hurt at the notion.

“Both of you in my office immediately!”

——-

The sun was already starting to set, and you were still upset.

It didn’t help that you had to be in the same space with the man that brought you to your boiling point. But you both got detention, which wasn’t surprising. The tension was still high, and you were both stubborn enough to not speak first.

You were wrong in some of the things you said, you could admit that now that you cooled down enough— but you really didn’t understand why Riddle was all of a sudden so cold towards you. Now that your anger started to dissipate, all you were left with was hurt, and you hated to admit that.

You hated to admit that someone you were starting to consider and believe was an ally, a friend, hurt you like this.

“You’re wrong about Trey.”

You almost dropped the broom, Riddle’s words startling you. You turned to face him, but he kept forward, erasing the chalkboard. He glanced back behind him to see if you were listening, and when you made eye contact, he whipped his head back.

“Excuse me?”

“I said that you’re wrong about Trey.” Riddle sounded exhausted just like you were, no bite in his words. “Trey isn’t my ‘yes-man’, he tells me when I’m wrong.”

You rolled your eyes, was he really starting another argument with you? “And you’re telling me this why?”

“Because of what happened in the cafeteria—“

“Obviously. I’m asking why are you telling me about Trey.”

Riddle hummed, before taking a deep breath. “Because he reprimanded me before I came here. He told me that I was wrong for the way I’ve been treating you.”

“And you needed him to tell you that?” You said in disbelief. You couldn’t believe that—

“No, I knew all along that I was.”

“So why continue to be so nasty to me?”

“Because I didn’t know how to handle my emotions…and I didn’t know how to face you.”

You stopped sweeping, giving your full attention to the housewarden. A part of you felt your blood start to boil again, but another part was genuinely curious and needed to know. He eventually turned, taking a few steps towards you, meeting you head on.

“My behavior was more than appalling, and I’m ashamed of it.” He tugged on the bottom of his uniform, eyes darting away from yours. The sight before you almost made your mouth drop—Riddle Rosehearts, the housewarden that’s been so cold towards you, showing remorse?

“It’s still somewhat…difficult for me to make friends. And when our friendship was beginning to grow, it made me anxious and had me lashing out on you for no reason.” Riddle locked eyes with you, steadying his voice.

“I let my insecurities guide me instead of having a conversation with you. And for that, I apologize.”

A petty part of you wanted to drag this on for long as possible, but seeing Riddle be so vulnerable had you changing your mind. You groaned, you hated that he had to be so mature about everything now— and how it had you regretting your words from before.

“I won’t say that it’s okay because it’s not— especially when you were about to use your signature spell— but…I accept your apology. And I’m sorry for the things that I said earlier. I was obviously upset, but it didn’t make it right to throw low blows.”

You propped the broom up against the desk, extending a hand forward. “I’m willing to try and put this behind me and start over if you are.”

Riddle’s flinched back, shock written over his face before it settled. He glanced down at your hand, his gloved one finally meeting yours, a soft smile lining his lips.

“I am.”

It was a little cute to see how the no-nonsense housewarden tried to hide how giddy he was, but you were also fighting a losing battle.

You were both secretly hoping that this marked a new turning point in your relationship, no matter how far it could go, for the better.

[chokepoet]

Kittens & Perverts (PG-13)

GIF by @kitherondale

Summary | A month after Logan’s passing, Roman stumbles onto an abandoned kitten and seeks the help of his assistant in caring for it.

Genre | Angst, The Fluffiest Fluff

TW | animal sickness, mentions of death (no actual death), panic attacks, drug mentions, slight allusions to an eating disorder

Word Count | 3.9k

A/N | This is for all my soft hearted bitches that just need that doe eyed lil’ shit to feel held. Even if just by a hand.

I had just walked out my door when I received a call from a very frantic Roman.

“I found a kitten. What the fuck do I do? It’s like, fuckin’ shivering and oh god- I think it? Coughed? Do cats cough?” His voice gets slightly quieter as if pulled away from the receiver. “Did you just cough?”

After having me find, in his words, the Mayo Clinic of emergency vets, he sent a car after me to meet him there. The entire drive was spent trying to calm him through the phone. He kept sending me horrific screenshots of every worse case scenario he found on Google. When I entered the waiting room I found him pacing with wide eyes and fidgety hands. He’d wound himself onto the verge of a panic attack.

“It’s got fucking pneumonia. Hooked up to IV’s and all this shit. They’re like incubating it- I think? With this big ass oxygen tank. Did you know they did that for cats? Like iron lung ‘em?” His hand roughly drags back through his hair. “I dunno if some sick fuck just left it there ‘cause it was ugly as shit with lil green goo comin’ out its eyes- aw, man, you shoulda seen it. The poor little fucker was like- like straight outta Cronenberg’s wet dreams, just- oh man, fuckin’ nasty.” He laughs to himself but it’s more of a stuttering rush of mirthless air. “And I’m supposed to feed it with these like freaky fucking heroin needle things apparently? I don’t-“ Placing both of my palms on either side of his cheeks gently, I tried stilling him.

“Hey- hey look at me. Breathe with me, yeah? In through your nose for a count of 4, hold for 7, out through your mouth for 8. Just like your blowing out birthday candles.” Face bunched up, he shoves me away.

“Fuck off! Birthday candles? The fuck are you on about? I’m fine. You know whose not fine? The fucking cat! It’s so tiny and-“

“Roman! Just fucking breathe with me real quick, okay? Just for a sec-“

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I’m breathing fucking fine! Are you deranged?“

“No I’m not fucking deranged but I’m about to shove a vial of ketamine up your ass if you don’t just fucking trust me and breathe with me.”

Exacerbated, he finally follows me through the breathing exercise for three rounds. Albeit while rolling his eyes. The tension in his face had fallen slightly. Though, his shoulders remained tense as ever.

“Better?”

“Fuck you.” He shakes his head and refuses to meet my eyes. “Yes.” His reply reluctant and slightly cartoonish with annoyance. He’d been having bouts of anxiety and panic attacks ever since his father passed. He was always like this whenever I’d guide him through it. Embarrassed and frustrated. Depleted.

He sank into one of the seats lining the wall with a long sigh. Head falling back for a moment before pulling his knees up and anchoring his heel to the edge of the metal chair. Hugging himself. I take a seat next to him and criss-cross my legs beneath me.

“Is he gonna die?” His voice now small and hushed as he intently stared at a floor tile. I felt the ghost of Logan grip my heart and squeeze.

“Honestly?” His big brown eyes flicker up at me. Searching, scared. “I dunno, Roman.” He quickly stares back to the floor tile. “What I do know is you did the very best you could for the lil’ guy.” He scuffs.

“Yeah-well, my best has historically done fuck all so…” he mumbles and I gently nudge him with my elbow but he doesn’t look up.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He shoots me a look that tells me he does not in fact know it. “That kitten wouldn’t have had a chance without you. You gave it a fighting shot at life, Rome. That’s worth something.” Just then a vet walks through the waiting room doors. Roman quickly stumbles out of the chair to stand. I join him and cautiously press the palm of my hand to his back for support. He doesn’t brush me off.

“It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If it had been any later, I don’t think he would have made it.” I steal a glance at Roman, who swallows before clenching his jaw. “He seems to be responding well to the oxygen and antibiotics. You all should be able leave with him after he’s been stable for a little while longer. I’ll start filling the scripts for his medications here soon.”

The warmth of the vet’s reassuring smile was in stark contrast to the color draining from Roman’s face. He nods slowly and blinks as he processes the responsibility of this kitten’s health being placed onto him. As the doctor leaves, Roman climbs back into the cold metal chair like an anxious gargoyle. I pull the vet aside before he can walk back through the doors and ask him to go over care instructions with me. He offers me a packet instead. Flipping through it, I search out a supplies list.

I knew Roman was far too out of his depths to retain any of the information. Valid, considering he referred to a nursing syringe as a heroine needle. Upon walking back, I find he’s made the full transformation into human stress ball. Full moon be damned. He looked like one pull of an imaginary rubber band and he’d fall apart all over the floor.

“Hey, I’m going to run to the store and get everything we need. I’ll set it all up at your place so we’ll be ready when you come home.” I tried using we instead of you to let him know he wasn’t going to be tackling this alone. I don’t think he noticed.

“You’re leaving me here?” His eyes were wide and horrified. “I can’t- I don’t- what if-“

“You’ll be okay Roman. You’ve got thi-“

“Like hell I’ll be! I most certainly do not got this. What the fuck!” Sighing, I sit beside him as he continues to gape at me.

“The vet has everything under control. All you need to do is sit here, try to relax, and think about a name for the little guy, okay? You don’t wanna have to deal with shopping for all this shit once you have him.” The lines between his brows were deeply creased.

“Can’t you just send a-“

“Roman. Stop.” He does, though a silent plea remained etched in his features. “Just let me do this for you, alright?” His eyes shut as his head falls back against the wall. This was important and I didn’t really trust that anyone else would get everything needed. Having to deal with a forgotten item later tonight sounded like a hell I wished to avoid. “You’ll see me again at the apartment. My phone is at full volume. You know you can call me the second I leave this building and I’ll answer.” He grumbles, refusing to look at me. “And I promise to have that boba tea you refuse to admit you like waiting for you.” One eye opens and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Sugar-free?” He didn’t need to know that the boba had been soaking in brown sugar before reaching his cup. Too elated that he felt some sense of joy in something food related and knowing full well he’d never touch it again if he knew. He still rarely allowed himself a cup of it as is, let alone finish it all. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him, so I never did.

“With extra boba.” His lips defy him as a small smile escapes. Groaning loudly and dramatically, he lifts his head.

“Fine.” He jerks his wallet out of his pocket and hands me his black card. “If that thing fucking croaks on me while you’re gone, I’m blaming you.”

As I walk out the doors I catch a quick glance back to find him, eyes closed, doing those breathing exercise.

Sure enough, the second I’m in the car my phone rings.

“The fuck all do you even have to get? Do pet stores sell heroine needles? Ask Kendall, I bet he’d fuckin’ know.” The entire shopping excursion was spent with the phone cradled between my ear and shoulder as I picked up supplies. As soon as one call would end, it wouldn’t be a few minutes later that it’d ring again. “Do I have a humidifier? I’ve got that fuckin’ facial steamer. Is that like the same thing? I feel like- no, you know what? Just pick one up while you’re out. Someone on Reddit said it helps with pneumonia.”

Upon arriving to his apartment, I open the fridge to sit the promised boba tea inside. Lonely amongst the near barren shelves of wilting lettuce and protein shakes. Trying not to think about it too much, I return to the task at hand. I had successfully gathered all needed supplies, plus a plush heated blanket that I hoped might warm both their spirits. He rarely left his room most days so I figured it’s the best place to set up everything. As I spread the blanket across his bed, my phone rang.

“In route with Jerry.”

“The fuck you doin’ with Gerri?”

“Check your texts.” Clicking the notification, I’m met with a photo of Roman and the kitten. It’s small form curled up under the palm of his hand, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His chuckle reverbs through the speaker.

“He is kinda cute, right?” You’re both kinda cute.

“The cutest. Please tell me you named him after the cartoon and not that Gerri?”

“Of course I named it after the fucking cartoon. Why would you even- yeah. I named a fuckin’ kitten after Waystar’s legal counsel.” His voice dripping with sarcasm even though he totally did do just that.

“You fucking would.” I can’t help but laugh. “And you say I’m deranged?”

“Yeah, yeah. Call my therapist.”

“Why? You’re already on the phone with ‘em.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job.”

“Clearly.” I began setting up Jerry’s bed. A nest of soft blankets over a heating pad in a small box. “Well shit’s hard with a sick fuck like Roman Roy as my client.”

“I can tell ya somethin’ else that’s hard.”

“I’m calling HR.”

“Ooo, three way?”

“Hanging up now.” His laughter reflects off his floor to ceiling windows as I cut the line.

While finishing filling the humidifier, now resting on his side table, I heard the front door open. Roman’s light footsteps click across the pristine hardwood floors.

“Aye! Lil’ man’s hungry, did you get the goods?” I’m soon enough greeted by a softly mewing Jerry in the same spot as he was photographed in nearly an hour prior.

“Yeah, your boba’s in the fridge.” Roman rolls his eyes before scrunching his nose up and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Hardy-har har. You’re hilarious.” Sticking my own tongue out at him, I give him a wink. “Seriously, did you get- the fuck that come from?” He waves a limp wrist towards the bed.

“It’s a heated blanket, I got it while I was out. Just thought you two could use it. And yes, the formulas in the kitchen.” Roman eyes the thick white blanket before waltzing over to run a hand over it. His lips threaten a smile but he fights it off.

“It’s… nice.” He clears his throat.

“You know, I haven’t gotten to officially meet Jerry yet.” Tilting my head, I gaze upon the little creature with a small smile. A tabby that reminded me of my first cat. I carefully reach out my pointer finger to stroke his head. My smile grows even wider. I was grateful Roman had found him and that he was okay. The fist of worry I kept hidden in the pit of my stomach began to unfurl. My cheeks warm as Roman’s gaze studied my face while I pet the kitten held against him.

“You can hold him.” Our eyes meet and there was something in his that made my chest flutter. He looks down quickly. “I mean-if you wanna or whatever.”

“Yeah? You sure? Y’all seem pretty cozy.” Roman rolls his eyes before carefully handing Jerry over to me. I cradle him over my heart while rubbing his side with my thumb. I can’t help but lean down to lay a soft kiss atop his head. “You are just the sweetest lil thing in the whole world, you know that?” I murmur into his fur before pulling back with a smile.

“Oh he fuckin’ knows it. He had all the nurses in a tizzy. Had to fight ‘em off with my humongous dick.”

“Oh Jesus, Roman. Do you ever just shut the fuck up?”

“Nope.” Roman smiles as he reaches to pet Jerry. His finger brushes my hand and our eyes fall to one another. The corner of his mouth twitches along with his finger. The air begins to fill with static as we stood falling into each other’s gaze. There was maybe half a foot of space between us. Out of nervous habit, I bite my bottom lip and Roman’s eyes immediately flicker to my mouth. Jerry mews against my chest.

“Should we go get the formula ready?” My voice comes out quieter than I intended, just above a whisper. He blinks a few times before meeting my eyes again.

“Huh? Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, he quickly turns on his heels and heads out the bedroom door. I follow with a blush on my cheeks and a smile on my lips.

Atop Roman’s bed, he lay on his side with me mirrored beside him. Jerry was stretched out between us with a full belly pressed to the heated blanket, sleeping peacefully. Roman had one hand propping his head up and the other holding his boba tea. My arms were crossed under one another as I used them as a pillow. Both of us watching the rise and fall of Jerry’s breathing.

Feeding him earlier was an ordeal to say the least. Roman quickly became overwhelmed. Only confident in his abilities as a fuck up. He was twitchy, anxious, and swear-y as he made a mess of the kitchen. Glancing up to his face, I notice the circles under his eyes seemed darker. He looked utterly exhausted as he chewed on the straw of his drink with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, Rome?”

“Mm?” He hums addressing me but doesn’t look up from Jerry.

“Do you wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay up with Jer-Bear and make sure he’s okay.” Eyes finally meeting mine, his brows stay pulled together.

“Fuck no. I’m not tired.” He lied through his teeth; quickly and firmly. I had just seen him yawn not five minutes prior. My brows raise.

“Uh-huh…” I look him over. He was still dressed for the day, though without shoes. His tie, dusted in formula powder, hung loose around his neck. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow. Once gelled hair now flung in nearly every direction.

“Hey! Stop fuckin’-“ He waves the plastic cup around. “Checkin’ me out in front of the child, ya heathen.”

“The child?” I laugh quietly while propping my head up in one hand and stealing his drink from him with the other. He gasps dramatically with a hand to his chest. “Alright, cat daddy.” His brows raise as I take a sip.

“Cat daddy?” He smirks suggestively. “What are you then? Cat mommy?” Chewing on some boba pearls, I shrug with a smile.

“Seems fitting.” He goes to steal his cup back, causing his hand to fall over my own. He doesn’t remove it. Just stares at them clasped together. His touch feels electric. The familiar static returning to the air. Roman’s thumb slowly begins to brush my knuckles. Back and forth, almost shyly. I let out a shaky breath and his eyes suddenly meet mine, startled. He pulls the drink from me and I let my hand fall. The phantom of his thumb sending small shockwaves through to my bones.

Refusing to meet my eyes, he focuses them on Jerry instead. His fingers quickly and rhythmically tapping at the side of his cup. The hand once holding his head was now scratching at his jaw. A bundle of nerves before me. I yearned to soothe them and missed the warmth of his touch. The lonely ache blossoming throughout the skin of my palm made my head feel fuzzy. I then feel my last remaining brain cell sprout something akin to courage. Reaching out, I grasp the top of his drink and take it away to place on the side table behind me.

“What the fuck? I wasn’t finished…” He trails off as I look back to him. All furrow browed and handsome. Cautiously, I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. His eyes immediately drop to them interlocking with a sharp inhale. He falls tense. My stomach flips as I fight off the flaming arrows of nerves shooting down my arm. Just as tentatively as he had before, I start to gently rub my thumb against the side of his hand. He doesn’t respond; his hand feeling limp and dead beneath mine. Dread pools down the back of my throat.

“S-sorry.” Pulling back, I try to unthread myself from his hand. Suddenly his fingers come to life and clasp around mine. Gripping tightly as if his body was silently pleading with mine to not let go. Don’t leave. His eyes finally meet mine and his brows twitch. A wash of different emotions flash across his features. Behind those stormy brown eyes, I could see the waves of doubt and fear threaten to drown out the rest.

What we were doing could be considered small. Insignificant even, sure. We were simply holding hands. Yet it felt like something big for some reason. Maybe because neither one of us could recall the last time someone held us. Even if it was just our hands.

It felt intimate.

He didn’t want it to stop but he didn’t know what to do with the feelings it was bringing up either. I pull our hands towards my face and lean forward to meet them. Softly biting down on his middle knuckle then smiling up at him. His mouth twitches before slowly smiling back.

“You’re so fucking dumb.” He laughs softly, slightly bewildered.

“Watch it or I’ll bite it off.” His smile only grows.

“Do it, I fuckin’ dare ya.” I bite down onto his knuckle once again, harder this time. He drops my hand immediately, only to thread his own through my hair and pull me into a bruising kiss. Both of us smile against the other’s mouth. He nips at my bottom lip when I pull away with a laugh. I lightly shove his head playfully before throwing his words from earlier back at him.

“In front of the child?” The near constant and crushing weight of his stress seemed momentarily absent as we giggled in bed like schoolchildren. “Ya heathen.” Jerry had continued sleeping soundly between us. Careful not to wake him, Roman begins brushing a finger down Jerry’s back, ever so gently. “You can be really sweet when you wanna be, you know that?” His eyes meet mine in an attempt to look stern. Though, the smallest hint of a smile still lingered.

“You tell anyone about this and I’m chuckin’ ya into the Hudson with cement shoes.” With a wide grin, I return to my earlier positioning. Arms curled beneath me to lie atop. The day was finally catching up and my head felt heavy. “You realize there’s pillows directly above you, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen a pillow a day in my life.” My eyes were struggling to stay open as I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of Jerry’s back with Roman’s finger stroking gently.

“Smartass.” The next thing I know, Roman’s hand has slid beneath my cheek to lift my head. A pillow is nestled into the space between soon after. I hum approvingly and he mumbles. “Thanks… for today.”

“Happy to help.” I rub my face into the pillow as if it could wipe off the sleep threatening to overtake me. In a weak attempt to stay awake, my mouth begins to ramble. “I got pneumonia a lot when I was a kid. I’d have to take these breathing treatments with an oxygen mask.” Letting out a soft chuckle, the memories flood back to me. Absentmindedly, my finger begins drawing circles against the blanket as I sleepily look to Jerry’s face. “But since I was a child, they tried to make it less scary so the mask was in the shape of a fish head. Whenever Jerry was in the hospital, I just pictured this tiny kitten wearing my little fish mask.” My eyes flicker up to Roman. He was wearing a small smile. “I dunno… it just made me feel better for some reason. I guess like he’d be okay because I was okay.” As the words tumbled out in a mumble, Roman’s eyes seemed softer. My cheeks started to warm with a blush so I shyly tuck my chin in and look back to Jerry.

“That’s really cute actually.” My eyes rise back to his. The tips of his own cheeks seem to turn almost pink under my gaze. “Corny as fuck, but… cute.” Clearing his throat, he looks back at the sleeping kitten before him. “I’m calling you fish face from now on.” The corner of my mouth tugs into a smile as my eyes fall heavy with sleep.

“You did good today, Rome.” If I had the energy to look back to him, I would have caught the pinks of his cheeks turning crimson. Saw his mouth twitch in a losing battle between a smile and his lips. The smile won.

The blinding light of morning had me waking with eyes squeezed tight. A steady electric hum met my ears and I tried to mentally deduce where it could be coming from before giving up. Fighting off the violently bright assault to my vision, my eyes finally part and focus. A cloud of steam billows through a sun ray to greet me. My gaze follows the plume towards it’s source. A soft electric hum. The humidifier.

The next sight to greet me fills my heart with something so sweet and so warm, it overflowed. The feeling overwhelmed my every being and threatened to burst through my chest and coat the very walls. Taking its disembodied hands to pull the corners of my lips upwards as a soft snore escapes the sleeping form beside me.

Roman looked even messier than he had the previous night. Lying on his back with one wrinkled sleeve pulled down. It appeared to have milk dampening the expensive fabric. The formula powder, once just on his tie, was now kissing across the scruff of his jaw. Somehow, it looked to be in his hair as well. His shirt lie halfway open, unbuttoned. A tiny ball of fur lay against the bare skin at the heart of his chest. There, Jerry slept underneath Roman’s cradling palm. The two of them warming the other peacefully.

My cheeks were aching but I couldn’t stop smiling. The humidifier’s buzz seemed to morph into a familiar high strung murmur inside my head.

You fucking love me, don’t you?Dumbass.

I haven’t written fan fiction in ages, let alone for Succession. I’m high-key fucking terrified of the response lol But this was so much fun to write and turned out extremely wholesome so I had to share. Please excuse any spelling/grammar/formatting fuck ups. I did all this in my notes app and haven’t shared any writing on here since like… 2018? I think?? Anyways, to whomever might be reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. ♡˚ ✧ ༘ ｡ ˚ ⋆

[andromedastarrs]

Hey i have a request what would be the type of partner for miguel o’hara ? Thanks if you write this

Miguel O'Hara's Type (S/O) - SFW Headcanons

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Hey Anon!! You're my very first Anon lol this is so very exciting for me, I hope you enjoy my headcanons for Mr.O'Hara's type!!🤞💙❤️

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Miguel doesn't date people for the way they look - so if you're hoping for him to look your way because you're conventionally attractive you're outta luck.

What I mean by this is that he's definitely more of the type to look at someone's actions/inner beauty.

I think Miguel likes individuals that are independent, financially and whatnot. I don't picture him as the type to enjoy babying (I mean this as in taking care of everything for them lol) his partner. However that does NOT mean that he doesn't enjoy getting them gifts and helping them out when they need it.

I think he'd want his partner to be patient. It's no secret that he can be explosive when angry and can sort of act like there's a switch in his head when it comes to his emotions, so having someone that is naturally patient is something that he would definitely look for.

I think he'd look for someone who has different interests/hobbies than him. I feel like he gets bored easily, so having an S/O that has interests he knows little about would peak his curiosity and would sorta act like brain food?? Does that make sense?

In general he would look for someone who is the tender opposite of him, tender meaning that you'd have to be different enough to be interesting but not too different to where you guys have clashing opinions on absolute everything.

Miguel is noooooooot into excessive public PDA, so he'd look for someone who shares that same opinion as him. He doesn't mind hand holding, making each other laugh in public, etc, but he will absolutely never do anything raunchy in public-

Doesn't like pessimistic people.

He'd look for someone who puts effort into their hygiene and general public appearance. AGAIN he is not into people just for their looks, but he IS into people who care about how they present themselves. Does that make sense?? Like he doesn't care if you're Goth, Emo, Coquette, "Basic", etc - he'd be into any aesthetic as long as his partner smells nice and has a cohesive look. (I tried my best to explain but hopefully you get the pic.)

Definitely not into lazy people or people who lack life goals- he wants someone who has a reason to keep going at it in life. Also... don't make him your reason to keep going, he wants you to be independent of him, remember?

I think he'd like people who are into skincare because I headcanon that he's into that 😭🙌. No this does NOT mean he is only looking for someone with clear skin, people can have good skincare routines and still have acne, etc.

He'd look for someone who accepts his past obviously. Also I say this because I think that his backstory is something that's gonna have him traumatized till the end, meaning that idk how he'd feel about kids with his S/O...is it just me that thinks he wouldn't be into it? I think he'd be too scared of losing either you or the possible kid, so instead he'd rather avoid having them again.

(On that note, if you are someone who wants kids I think he'd slowly, but genuinely consider it. He'd probably go to therapy to make sure he's in the right headspace as well.)

Is it a controversial headcanon to say that I don't think Miguel would look for a specific gender to date? I think he'd just genuinely look for a connection.

He'd look for someone who's an early bird like him, he wants to wake up around the same time as his S/O. However I don't think this applies to bedtime, since he has work to do and probably stays up late, he wouldn't wanna hurt his S/O's physical health.

Sorry guys I do not think Miguel likes pets, I think he likes his home tidy and clean. I think he'd lose a sense of control after everything that happened to him, and having a clean home gives him back some sense of control of his life. Maybe a few years into the relationship (after you've moved in) he'd be ok with pets but definitely not at the start.

Also, just because he doesn't want pets doesn't mean he isn't good with animals.

He'd look for someone who is a foodie, I think Miguel is one himself, so he'd look for someone that has the same eating habit of trying new foods. He'd also want this because I think he'd like making them try out recipes. :')

He'd look for someone who doesn't mind quiet days where the both of you barely talk but enjoy each other's presence.

It's no secret that Miguel has an erratic schedule, so he'd love to find someone with a very flexible schedule so that they could always make time for eachother. :')

Unless you are genuinely mature for your age (21+ acting/behaving 26+, don't be weird, thanks) I don't think he'd go for someone significantly younger than him. 🤞Also I think him being 27 makes sense but idek how old this man is because I can't find a certain answer anywhere.

He'd look for someone who can make him laugh. 🥹 He needs more happiness in his life.

On that note he definitely likes people that are optimistic and happy, people who just radiate warm energy. People that are genuinely kind.

Does not like people who try to purposely annoy him, sorry folks.

Also, yes he's handsome. But I headcanon that he wouldn't want someone who's just into him because of the way he looks. And he can always tell.

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[ikarasu]

🍫White Chocolate🍫

Yandere Carlo/P x Reader

Warning: spoilers, yandere behavior, broken bones, and death

P/Carlo’s Perspective: 🍫Dark Chocolate🍫

Final Part: 🥀Tummy Ache🥀

Word Count: 1715

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At a young age, Carlo and I knew that we were to marry. My parents were successful vehicle inventors who were very interested in Geppetto’s works. Geppetto wanted his son to marry the perfect spouse. So our parents took an opportunity and formed an arranged marriage. I knew that Carlo hated me, because of the arrangement. Feeling that now he has no chance of experiencing real love. I, on the other hand, fell in love at first sight. Everything that Carlo did felt so honest and pure. I watched Carlo grow up into a fine young man, but our relationship never improved. He would always avoid me at any chance given. Yet I still loved him despite his bitter nature towards me. Loving Carlo was like savoring dark chocolate. It’s so pure and rich but leaves nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

As the plague worsened my family had us move away from Krat. Yet my parents still caught the disease and eventually passed away six months after contracting it. I returned to Krat in hopes of finding Geppetto and Carlo. Only to return to the beginning of the puppet frenzy. I found Geppetto and was told of Carlo’s passing before he rushed me to take refuge at The Krat Hotel with a few other survivors.

I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve taken refuge here. But I’ve grown to enjoy the company of others. Usually, I help around with Polendina or chat with Sophia and Eugénie. I have not heard news from Geppetto recently, and I can’t help but worry. Leading me to think about Carlo and how I wasn’t there for his final moments. It hurts to think that I never got to say bye and tell him the truth about my feelings.

The loud creaking of the front entrance doors opening pulls me out of my thoughts. Like a bitter pill, I swallow up my feelings and head downstairs to greet whoever had just entered. As I head down the stairs I hear Sophia chatting. ‘It must be another survivor…’

“Sophia, who’s the newcomer-“

I stop as I look up at the face of the newcomer. Suddenly I feel sick to the stomach and I take a step back.

“I-it can’t be….”

There stands a confused familiar face. His unfamiliar blue eyes are glassy and dull, but his freckles are a constellation of stars I have memorized by heart.

“Oh, (name), I want you to meet P” Sophia says as she looks over at me with concern.

P raises his hand slowly as he stares at me. He almost touches my hand but I run. I headed to my room as fast as I could. My breath is erratic, my heart is pounding, and my mind is spinning. I feel like the world is collapsing on me and I fall to my knees and cry alone in my room.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

*knock knock*

I refuse to move from my bed after the events from earlier today. The confusion and feeling of being lied to is conflicted inside me.

“(Name)… it’s me, Geppetto. May I come in?”

He sighs as he hears no response from me.

“I’m assuming you met my latest creation…..”

The door whips open revealing my angered expression.

“Is that what he is, Geppetto? Just another toy to you?! Some sick way to make up for your shortcomings as a father figure to Carlo?!”

My fists are trembling and the hot tears spill from my cheeks. Geppetto holds one of my fists gently before making me look at his face.

“Let me explain everything to you… there’s more to it…”

We sit in my room as Geppetto explains his whole plan to revive Carlo. I hesitate at his words, everything about it seems inhumane. Yet he tries to reassure me with promises of me getting my chance to love Carlo again.

“I can’t Geppetto… none of this sounds right. I miss Carlo as well, deeply, but this is too much for me.”

I guide him out of my room to let me process everything that has been said.

The next few days I try to go through my day as per usual. Trying to ignore those same blue glassy eyes following my form as I pass by. Despite their beautiful color, they’re too fake and doll-like for me to appreciate.

I go to the library to browse some books to read. On the top shelf, I notice one of my favorite books sitting on it. I try to reach for it as best as I can. My fingers barely graze the spine of the book before suddenly I feel a cold form pressing against my back. A larger hand easily grabs the book I was reaching for. Turning around slowly I refuse to meet his eyes. I quickly take the book and give him a quiet thank you before running off. If I had taken the time to look I would’ve noticed the way his eyes showed something new, longing.

I try to avoid him whenever he is in the hotel. Until one day I was feeling more somber than usual. Today would’ve been Carlo’s birthday. Sitting alone at the piano I play an old tune, one that I thought Carlo would’ve enjoyed if he and I got along. The tears drip from my face as I continue to play. Quietly the front doors of the hotel open and P walks in. P’s footsteps go unnoticed by me as I drown myself in my sorrows. He feels something deep down in his heart pulling him towards me. The feelings ran deep and made the ergo in his veins flow more. He felt like he had no control over these feelings. Remembering Geppetto’s words in his office after defeating the watchman at the city hall.

“(Name) and Carlo were made for each other. Treat them well, even if they’re a bit rough around the edges at the moment. They’ll come around sooner or later”

The song comes to an end and the room is now only filled with the sounds of my quiet sobs. I gasp as I feel a hand touch my shoulder. P stands there and looks at me with concern.

“Go away… You’re the last ‘thing’ I want to see at the moment” I say resentfully.

Instead of listening to me, P pulls me into a hug. I freeze and then I let myself melt. Carlo would’ve never hugged me so comfortably. The tears spill more and for once I look back at those blue eyes. He stares at me so lovingly and kindly. Maybe this is okay…maybe I can love again…

As P progressed on his journey our relationship bloomed. He was patient when I was stubborn and he was loving when I needed it. Loving P was like milk chocolate. The perfect balance of sweetness with no bitter aftertaste. He was perfect and I gave him all of my heart.

P came into the hotel and came to my room. One look at his face and I knew what he was thinking. We lay together one last time before he had to go off and finish off Simon. Our tears and hearts are shared one last time.

“I promise to come back… I won’t leave you again, (name)”

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~Time Skip~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Screams are all I can hear ringing through the hotel. I hide in my room crying as I fear for my life. They’re all gone. Eugénie, Venigni, Antonia, Polendina, Pulcinella… they’re all gone. I hear footsteps approaching my room and I feel sick to my stomach. I pray for them to turn away and move on. It’s silent for a few moments before I hear the handle of the door turn. I hid in my wardrobe before the door could be opened. Holding my breath as I stare through the crack of my wardrobe. The room is empty and everything is silent. I let out my breath before suddenly brown eyes appeared in front of the crack. A scream is ripped out of my throat as I’m yanked out of the wardrobe.

“My love~ I promised you I would come back”

I tried to push at his form but his body wouldn’t budge an inch. Staring at familiar brown eyes that are now filled with bloodlust. Familiar constellations of freckles are nowhere to be found. Only splatters of blood and oil speckle his face.

“Let me go! You monster!” I scream as I continue to thrash in his iron-like hold.

“Now, now, that’s not very nice of you love~” he says in a sugary tone

I continue to thrash as tears fall from my eyes. Praying to any gods that all of this is just some nightmare. Suddenly he pulls me by the hair to force me to look at him. His tone taking a dangerous turn.

“Father promised me that we were made for each other. So start acting like it, love.”

I tremble in his hold submissively. He smiles and releases my hair before leaning closer to my face.

“That’s a good spouse~”

Before he could lean any closer I grabbed the vase behind him and smashed it on his head. He staggers and I make a run for it. Skipping over steps as I make a dash for the exit. I manage to run out the doors into the rainy entrance before I’m tackled down. Grabbing onto my leg he gives me a dangerous look. A sickening crack and a scream were all that could be heard. I cry as the pain shoots up my leg.

“See? That’s what happens when you’re not a good spouse. I have to clip your wings” his tone has returned to that sickening sweet voice.

He pulls out a ring and looks at me. I try to crawl away but he pulls me back cradling me. I cry as he slips on the ring and pulls me into a possessive kiss.

“That’s right, love! Cry! It’s a joyous moment for both of us. Now we can be together forever just as we were meant to be”

This ‘love’ is like white chocolate. Its overly sweet taste is there to cover up the fact it isn’t chocolate. Only this time it’s all that you have left.

🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~🍫~🥀~

Notes: I will edit this eventually rippppp

[joonlaksme]

Sign Here: Chapter Three

Sign Here Masterlist

Summary: All of Min Yoongi’s partners never knew what he truly wanted. Too scared to tell them to their face, he decides to just invest into a professional. He didn’t know you were exactly what he was looking for.

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Reader

-> Genre: Yoongi x Dominatrix!reader, Smut

-> Warnings for this Chapter: You with other clients, Yoongi has tattoos >_<, nipple play, pain play, spit play, throat fucking (gagging, choking, coughing), a lil bratty!Yoongi

-> Word Count: 2,700+

A/N: I’m actually proud of how this came out so I hope you enjoy!!

Chapter 3: Act One

Yoongi isn't sure what to do right now.

He's sitting on the couch in the living room of one of his closest friends, Kim Namjoon, as he fixes him a cup of coffee. The truth is, Yoongi told him that he had something he wanted to tell him. However, as he sits in the room listening to low volume jazz, playing on a record player while he messes with loose threads on throw pillows, he starts to rethink his decision. The crackling on the track couldn’t distract him enough. What would his best friend think?

Why did he even care that much?

Yoongi didn’t often confide in his friends for things. He knows it isn’t exactly healthy but he has always been one to deal with problems and decisions by himself. Now that he’s getting into a new relationship- BDSM at that, although he isn’t regretting his decision, he is iffy about whether he should share it with others. He knows no one is entitled to his thoughts but he wants to learn how to get more comfortable talking to his friends about personal things. Now that Yoongi is sitting on his best friend’s couch, he might as well commit. Why else would he be here?

“So, what’s the sudden request for a meet up about?” Namjoon walks up to him, a cup of tea in his hands. His eyes fill with concern because Yoongi has never so nervously called him before. He was usually calm, collected, and straight forward. Namjoon was the guy that gave him a new outlook on situations when he knew he needed to turn to someone. There is no judgment.

“You know how…a few months ago, I broke up with Ae-min.”

Namjoon nods as he sits back in his seat, adjusting the volume on his jazz music. “Did she try to talk to you again?”

Yoongi shakes his head briefly, “Rather, I got in a relationship. With someone else!”

Noticing how off character this was of Yoongi, the taller man places his tea cup down on his coffee table and lays his concern on the back burner for now. “Ah hyung, that’s great! When do I get to meet them?” His eyebrows wiggle, a grin popping on his face. Just the mood of Yoongi’s friend settles his nerves. Namjoon’s smiles are contagious.

Having a good judgment of character, Namjoon always took it upon himself to meet Yoongi's newest relationship. Ae-min was a woman that had been a particular thorn in Namjoon’s side. For the ten months the two were together, he could tell something was off. Whenever he was around, she was a bit too touchy; too flirty to someone who she knew was her boyfriend’s best friend.

It was when she pushed him against a wall at a party and tried to force a kiss on him when Namjoon had gotten the hint. No amount of alcohol would be able to shift him to betray his friend. When he was sobering up the next day, he called Yoongi about the ordeal. They officially broke up the very next day.

“That’s what I wanted to actually talk to you about the most. It’s not really the standard relationship that you think it is. I don’t think I’m ready to move on to something else yet.” Yoongi explains.

This leaves Namjoon further confused and it shows up on his face. It was understandable as Yoongi and his ex had been apart for almost 3 months. He rests his hot cup on the table and leans back in the plush of the couch before crossing his arms, “Then, what do you mean?”

Yoongi messes with his fingers for a second before just coming out with it. “I’ve decided to hire a professional dominatrix.” But it comes out more like a question than a statement.

One beat of silence. Then two.

“Woah. Wow.”

Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact as he stretches for a moment. That wasn’t exactly the reaction Yoongi was expecting.

“I have a lot of questions but…honestly? Good on you. After what you’ve been through, I think it’s great that you’re moving on.” Namjoon looks back at him and smiles, showing his dimples. “I can ask you the details later but for now, can we finally watch this movie? I’ve been wanting you to see it for a while.”

Settled with Namjoon’s comments, Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee and gestures towards the television with a tilt of his head. “It better be scary.”

-

“This will be our final play.” You mutter into your client’s ear, her hair firmly in your grasp. Your fingers made a mess of what was previously mid-length, neat scarlet waves. She nods in confirmation, not being able to reply with the gag in her mouth. “Good.” And you gently tap her cheek.

Then your phone dings. You sigh because you swear you put it on silent before starting today's session. Maybe this one was broken. You pick it up and read the message.

Mr. Min - Friday? Not sure I can do that but I’ll let you know

You pat the floor twice and your client scrambles on the floor to crawl at your fingertips. You sit on her back as she holds herself up by her hands and knees. She quivers from your weight and whines but holds her ground.

You - Absolutely. I’ll be there around seven if there aren’t any change in plans

-

There’s a knock on his door and he has to look at the mirror near the entrance to see if he’s presentable before opening it. As expected, it was you, here at seven on the dot.

You walk in, black boots heavily clacking on the wooden floors of the entrance. You look around to what is immediately the living room after the first hallway. A deep gray couch with plants around the walls and near doors, some real and some fake.

It was only when you walked in that Yoongi realized he had no idea how this would start. Why is he so nervous?

“I got this for you.” You turn your head to him and hand him a gift bag. The top of it is covered with tissue paper. “Don’t open it yet.”

Yoongi can’t help but be curious for what’s in the bag. What did you give him? He places it near his shoe rack for now.

You take off your jacket and hang it on the rack at the entrance before walking up to the couch. You sit down, no invitation needed, and cross your legs. Then, you clap so loud it causes Yoongi to flinch.

“Today, we’re just going to get to know each other. Okay, darling?” You look back at him.

A shiver runs down his spine and he mindlessly walks and sits next to you. He nods, waiting for you to do or say anything. A couple of moments pass by as you get comfortable on his couch, twirling your finger absentmindedly on the soft texture of the couch.

“Take off your shirt and lay on my lap.”

You say it in such a careless way that it confuses Yoongi just a little bit. Why does he have to take off his shirt?

“What-“

And before he can finish his question, you’re lurching towards him and he shuts his mouth quickly when your fingers hold his chin. You not-quite-glare but challengingly stare at him while sinking into the brown of his eyes and him, the color of yours. One of your eyebrows go up and you let go to lean back on the couch, arms now spread on the back, his head close to your fingers. Now, you’re looking at him.

He does as you say, pulling his shirt over head and revealing his tattoos in full. A chain of blue roses cover his arms and almost continue to his shoulders. Instead, they run down his chest, the amount of flowers thinning and becoming smaller until it’s down his stomach. It is just enough to be covered with a simple long sleeve shirt. They were intricate and the details make it more gorgeous and life-like. Yoongi doesn’t have defined abs; he’s built perfectly and is just your type.

He usually is never looked at and analyzed like this often when his shirt has been off. His nipples go hard in the cold of the room and goose bumps rise on his skin. He resists covering his arms for warmth and comes over to you with as much confidence as he can muster.

You pat your lap, “c’mere.” It’s a bit cheerful, as if you’re treating him like a dog and he can’t deny that it makes him feel some type of way, his heart jumping out of his chest.

He rests the back of his head on your lap and he’s puzzled as to where this can possibly lead to.

Your fingers trace every stem and root of the tattooed flowers on his arms and make their way inwards. They ran down his chest with feather-like touches. Yoongi has to resist the urge to get closer for more of your warmth and instead he finds himself letting out the smallest sigh. He arches his back when your finger grazes his nipple.

“Sensitive here?” You ask in a mumble.

It’s rhetorical, he knows. It’s obvious that he is but he never had the courage to tell his exes and past flings that. Sure, he would take advantage of it when he would masturbate but no one has ever taken the chance to see for themselves. Except you. Maybe it’s because you’re a professional. You flick one and a smile grows on your face when his breath stutters.

“I would love to make you cum just like this.”

He wants to moan louder but he’s not used to being vocal. You can tell by the way he bites at his lips and little whines come from the back of his throat but don’t come out in full force. You know that is just something you’ll have to train him to do. You focus on playing with his nipples, pinching, flicking and rubbing them until he’s arching his pretty back closer to your hands.

It’s when you graze your nails up his pecs that he lets out a full blown moan. Red lines on his pale skin show up in your nails’ wake from its pressure. What stops you is his hands grabbing yours.

“Wait,” He’s out of breath. His eyes are blown out, cock making a clear outline in his pants and he shuffles his hips side to side as if it will help him gain release.

“Yucca?” You offer his safe word just in case he forgets it. Immediately he shakes his head.

So you pull his hands off of yours and continue your ministries.

“Fuck…”

He shivers again but this time it’s not because he’s cold. In fact, he feels like he might start sweating. He thought you were joking about making him cum with just his nipples but the longer you do this, the more he starts to believe you.

“Why’d you stop me?” You tug.

His teeth press together, arching, “This is a-a lot.”

One of your hands moves away from his nipples to dip into his newly agape mouth. When your fingers hit his tongue, he instinctively wraps his lips around them.

“This okay?” You say in this babying voice while your finger motions are anything but sweet. Your fingers are rougher, nails involved more than before. The fingers in his mouth are close to thrusting down his throat.

He’s so hard and you haven’t even touched his dick.

He nods almost immediately at your question, small humps in the air as he really starts to feel the texture of his pants. Why would he wear underwear in his own home? Well, he wasn’t expecting to be making this much of a mess in them. Gray sweatpants were the worst thing to wear because the wet spot on it couldn’t be hidden even if he tried.

You pull your fingers out of his mouth, spit attached to them before you swap hands. You coat and swirl your wet fingers around his sensitive nipples and with his okay, stuff the two from your other hand, down his throat until he’s gagging on it.

It’s more intense than he thought for your first session but he knows what he signed up for. He is the one who checked all those things down in the contract. He reaches to touch his cock just a bit for a glimpse of relief and a clear head but then you move your fingers from both his mouth and his chest.

“Baby…” You rub up and down on his tattooed arms. “You know better, don’t you?”

He looks into your eyes, his own glazed with lust. You notice the way he tries to subtly roll his eyes.

“Don’t you?” You repeat yourself, surprising him by pushing your fingers on his tongue. “Speak.”

“Y-yesh.” He gets out the sound even with your fingers in his mouth.

Your fingers run closer down his throat and he tenses. “Then…why did you even try it?”

He can feel himself twitching in his pants again. He’s realizing just how close he is to the edge.

You thrust your fingers down his throat again, watching tears build up in his eyes. He gags again, spit gathering at his lips. It doesn’t help when your finger are back to his nipples, even meaner than before.

“Wa-“ He tries to get out the ‘wait’ but the gagging is too much and instead, he chokes on it. You pull your fingers back to the top of his tongue as he coughs and squirms in your hold.

You fake a pout, rolling his nipples between two fingers and then running your nails down his chest once again.

“Fuck, wait wait, gonna-“

You lean down, pressing a kiss on his forehead and you mumble there. You talk to him soothingly and before he knows it, he’s shivering and making a mess in his sweatpants. His hands jump up and you grab them in yours, watching as he cums untouched. His eyes clenched tightly while he thrusts in the air, groans flowing from his lips and you do nothing but watch it all happen.

It’s not often that your clients cum without some type of lower stimulation so this is just a treat. You can’t deny how turned on you are.

When he’s lowered to trembles, you let go of his hand and kiss his forehead again. “Y’okay?”

His eyes open slowly, blurry and the light coming from the ceiling doesn’t help.

“Holy shit.” He puddles in your lap. He grips your thigh in a way you would call lovingly before looking into your eyes. “I’ve never done that before.”

“A lot of people haven’t.” You push your hand in his hair, saliva already dried on your fingers and his chest. You playfully flick at his nipple again and he moves away, letting out a small sound of disapproval. “I’ve learned a lot about you. You have quite the pain kink, don’t you?”

Yoongi presses his lips together before mumbling, “maybe.”

It’s either you don’t hear him or you choose to not acknowledge it. “How do you feel?”

It’s genuine and warms his heart. He hides his eyes behind his hair, feeling how uncomfortable it is in his pants. “I really need to take a bath.” And he lets out a small scoff.

“Can I help you out?” And you continue with a joke, “No extra charge.” Your fingers twirl in his hair, massaging his scalp.

“Well in that case…” He lingers his sentence, sarcasm dripping from his words.

-

Yoongi looks at his pants on the floor, grimacing at the sight of it inside-out. He’s already soaked to his chest in hot water and he can feel his muscles relaxing under the bubbles and smell of lavender in the air.

You’re there, gently rubbing a sponge on his arms. “I want to get to know you-“

Yoongi lays back on the edge of his bathtub, eyes meeting yours, “You know I can’t trust you when you say that now, right?”

You stop your movements to let out a laugh, “To be honest, I was trying to learn about what you liked.” You dip the sponge in the sudsy water again and gently rub it on his arms, “Dare I say, I helped you learn something that you like.”

Yoongi chuckles and although he’d like to say something sassy, he holds himself back and gets comfortable in the steam and the feeling of your touch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist - @hobiswhore @madstxo @itsshaydeekaydee @namjooncrabs @ollyoxenfrees @jajabro @lchimmyl

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All rights are reserved © joonlaksme

[spencer0o7]

i wanna write but school is beating my ass rn

[deathc-re]

when he's as asshole during sex

he knows he's a lot to take, especially with the minimal prep he gave you, but he's also going so fast and so hard, how can he blame you? your whining and gasping and begging him to slow down but who do you think he is? he can't-- won't slow down when your pussy feels this good. spasming around him like this, practically wringing out his dick for everything it has. he can't slow down now!

he'd lean down by your ear, "aw poor baby! is it a lot?"

you could just hear the smirk in his tone. the bruising grip he had on you, the sloppy kisses, the deep strokes, he was too lost in himself to really focus on you.

he's selfish and that's nothing new

SUKUNA, gojo, suna, toji, dr stein, dabi, eustass kidd, zoro, crocodile, + whoever else

[cece693]

hii, are you ever planning on making a part 2 of the I Forgive You (reader x bucky), I adore it so much!!

Thanks so much for the comment! I was debating on how to end it, but I couldn't let Bucky suffer...So the second part is filled with angst, fluff and everything in between :) Because this was already getting long, there are soo many time skips, but I think this is a good ending for this fic. I hope you enjoy it!

I Forgive You Pt. 2

pairing: bucky barnes x gender neutral reader tags: you die, bucky is depressed, endgame occurs, changes in the timeline, I won't spoil it, but I think you can guess what's going to happen, hint hint bucky goes back in time :), kinda au since some things had to be changed to fit the narrative better

The day you passed away was the day Bucky Barnes’s world collapsed. They rushed you into Wakanda’s medical wing, Shuri and her teams working feverishly, but there was no stopping the internal damage. Despite vibranium-infused treatments, advanced technology, and the dogged determination of the Wakandans, you quietly slipped away in the early hours after the battle. No cosmic power or high-tech intervention could resurrect what Thanos had destroyed.

When the moment came, Bucky was by your bedside, holding your hand in his. Your final breaths were shaky, pain etched across your features. Bucky spoke in frantic whispers, clinging to hope that you would hear him.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, tears clinging to his lashes. “I—I need you here. I’m…I’m not strong enough alone.” Your eyes fluttered open one last time, just enough to focus on him. You squeezed his hand—a gesture that felt heartbreakingly weak. And then you were gone. Your chest fell still; your fingertips slipped from his grasp.

Bucky’s anguished cry echoed through the pristine Wakandan lab as medical monitors went silent. Shuri’s shoulders slumped, her gaze dropping. She quietly dismissed her assistants, understanding there was nothing more they could do for you. In that instant, any progress Bucky had made in escaping the Winter Soldier’s shadow shattered. He wasn’t just lost—he was broken.

As if your passing wasn’t catastrophic enough, the unthinkable happened: Thanos succeeded. The battle outside ended in an instant of cosmic horror. Half the universe dissolved into floating specks of ash.

No one could forget the way Okoye fell to her knees, watching T’Challa fade from sight; or how Wanda’s breath caught as she vanished with tears still in her eyes. Even rocket ships grounded when Rocket lost some of the Guardians. For Bucky, still cradling your lifeless form, the destruction outside was just another layer of nightmare. But the cruelest twist? Bucky remained.

He had hoped, on some desperate level, that if there was some cosmic design, it would also take him. He’d have welcomed oblivion, a chance to follow you into whatever lay beyond. But the universe, in its cruel indifference, forced him to remain—tethered to life when the one person he’d dared to love was gone.

In the days that followed, Bucky was nearly catatonic. He barely ate or slept. He didn’t respond when Steve tried to reach him, only staring at the vacant spot on the med-lab floor where your blood had pooled. Gone was the peace he’d found in Wakanda, the fragile sense of self that Shuri’s deprogramming and your unwavering love had helped him reclaim.

All that remained was the echo of your final breath, the memory of his own hands betraying him—the Winter Soldier reawakened, by Thanos’s design, to deliver the fatal blow. No matter how many times anyone insisted it wasn’t your fault, he couldn’t accept it. Because he had held the knife. He had heard you gasp in pain.

That knowledge devoured him from within.

Upstate New York, The Avengers Compound (Two Years After the Snap)

Eventually, Bucky found himself at the Avengers Compound, a shell of what it once was. Natasha spent her days clinging to the last threads of her sense of duty, coordinating scattered reports from various corners of the globe. Steve tried to hold group therapy sessions in a local community center, urging people to find hope. Bruce and Tony—before Tony retreated to a private life in the woods—clashed over how to move forward. Thor was gone, wandering somewhere, presumably wracked with guilt.

Bucky offered no solutions. He spent most of his time quietly cleaning weapons or aimlessly flipping through old mission files. Sam had vanished in the snap, which meant there was no one left who could truly break through Bucky’s solitude—except Steve. Occasionally, Steve tried to coax him into conversation.

“What are you thinking?” he asked one day, watching Bucky methodically oil a handgun he barely used anymore.

Bucky glanced up. Shadows clung beneath his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights. “Nothing worth saying,” he murmured. His voice was cold, guarded, but Steve recognized the heartbreak beneath it.

Steve laid a hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t want you to give up.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on the gun. “He’s not here to tell me that, is he?”

Steve’s hand lingered on the metal shoulder a moment longer than usual, and Bucky felt the gentle weight of that gesture like a brand. He swallowed, refusing to meet Steve’s gaze. “Maybe not,” Steve answered quietly, “but I’m here. And I remember exactly how he looked at you—like you were worth saving every day.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. The words burrowed under his skin, scraping nerves already raw. He set the handgun aside with slow, deliberate care, as though it might shatter if he moved too fast.

“Don’t,” he said, voice hoarse. “Don’t put his faith in me like it’s a shield. I dropped that shield the second I—” He cut himself off, throat tight. The second I stabbed him. Even two years later, the memory struck like a knife to the gut.

Steve pulled over a folding chair and sat across from him. The armory lights hummed overhead, dust motes drifting through the beams. Outside, spring rain pattered against the broken skylight. It sounded like a heartbeat that refused to stop. “You blame yourself because you still see the Winter Soldier when you look in the mirror,” Steve said. “I get that. But he saw James Buchanan Barnes. So do I.”

Bucky barked a laugh—sharp, joyless. “He saw who he wanted to see. Everyone does that with me. It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That there’s no redemption arc big enough to erase what I’ve done.” Bucky’s eyes were like storm clouds—dark, volatile. “Not just to him. To all of them. I can’t fix this.”

Steve folded his hands. “Maybe you can’t fix everything. But you can still do something. Every day we’re alive is another chance to try.”

Bucky shook his head, rising abruptly. “I’m done with pep talks.” He shoved the chair back and strode toward the exit.

Steve’s voice followed him, quiet but firm. “Running from the pain won’t make it fade, Buck. You taught me that, remember?”

Bucky hesitated at the doorway, fingers tightening on the frame. Rain drummed harder on the roof, like impatient fingers. He turned just enough for Steve to see the grief etched in his profile. “I’m not running,” he muttered. “I’m just…waiting for the part where it stops hurting.”

Steve’s expression softened. “Maybe it never stops. Maybe we carry it, like we carried each other through the war. But carrying it together makes it lighter.”

For a heartbeat Bucky said nothing. Then, almost inaudibly, he whispered, "Save the sermon, Steve. Some weights don’t get lighter—no matter how many hands you put on the bar.”

Five Years After the Snap

When Scott Lang—Ant-Man—reappeared from the Quantum Realm with a desperate, impossible plan to time-travel and reclaim the Infinity Stones, the Avengers reassembled for the first time in years. Tony was coaxed out of his lakeside retirement, Bruce had undergone a curious evolution into a “Professor Hulk,” and Thor stumbled into the compound carrying the weight of his failures.

Bucky kept to the back of the room as they discussed quantum physics and potential paradoxes. The idea of going back in time to retrieve the stones before Thanos could destroy them sounded insane. But there was an ember of something in Bucky’s chest—hope, maybe? If they could undo the snap, perhaps…he'd be here, Bucky thought, half-listening to the frantic conversation. He’d be the first to volunteer for this. He never hesitated to save the world. Bucky’s jaw clenched, eyes drifting over the faces of the other Avengers. Steve caught his gaze and nodded. There was a shared understanding: Bucky was in, no matter how impossible it seemed.

The plan was laid out with careful precision: split into teams, jump through the Quantum Realm, gather the Infinity Stones, and bring them safely back to their time. From Tony and Bruce’s intricate equations to Steve’s measured resolve, everyone moved with one desperate thought in mind: undo what Thanos had done.

For Bucky, however, that glimmer of hope took a wildly different shape. Deep down, he knew the Snap itself hadn’t taken your life, but part of him clung to the impossible dream that maybe, just maybe, if they could harness the Stones or alter the timeline, he could undo his greatest regret. Bucky shoved that hope down where it couldn’t distract him, but it remained a stubborn ember in his chest.

When the Avengers regrouped in the present with the Stones in hand, Bucky felt that ember burn a bit brighter. If these Stones can bring back half the universe, who’s to say they can’t—No. He cut off the thought, jaw clenched. Focus on the mission. Don’t be selfish.

Yet the longing was there, pulsing beneath every breath.

When retrieving the stones, they never expected for Thanos to follow. But the Mad Titan—this time, a past version even more relentless—arrived in a fury, bringing a warship and legions of vicious outriders. In an instant, the Avengers Compound turned to a smoking crater. Flame and twisted steel surrounded them, the air thick with dust and debris.

Bucky was among the first to spring into action, rifle in hand. His mind snapped into combat mode, adrenaline surging. Distantly, he noted Tony’s frantic calls for backup, Thor’s roar, and the clash of vibranium on alien weaponry. He had no illusions about the odds.

“He’s here!” Steve shouted, shield up, voice tight with urgency. “Everyone—scatter and engage!”

Bucky nodded sharply, storming through the rubble, eyes scanning for any sign of Thanos or the outriders. The sizzling hum of energy blasts whined past his ears. Chunks of concrete rained down from collapsed walls. It felt like war—just another battlefield, except the stakes were greater than ever. Bucky was ready to die; he owed you at least that much after what he'd done to you, but it was Tony who made the ultimate sacrifice. Wearing the gauntlet with all the stones, Bucky could only cover his eyes before a bright flash surrounded the battlefield. And then, silence—save for the faint crackle of dissipating cosmic energy.

Bucky’s ears rang. When he lowered his arm, the field was eerily still. The sky, once bruised with smoke and fire, now glowed soft pink in the newborn dawn. Thanos and his armies were gone—reduced to drifting motes of dust that shimmered for a heartbeat before the wind carried them away.

Victory. But it didn’t feel like triumph.

Across the rubble‑strewn expanse, Bucky spotted Stark slumped against a jagged slab of concrete, the makeshift Infinity Gauntlet fused to his scorched armor. Rhodey was already there, hands trembling as he tried to stabilize a reactor that would never beat again. Peter stumbled forward, sobbing apologies. Pepper knelt, voice breaking as she coaxed Tony’s fading gaze to hers.

Bucky stood rooted, rifle limp at his side. He should move—help, comfort, do something—yet his legs refused. The scene blurred through tears he hadn’t realized were falling. Another good man dying in front of me, and I can’t save him. Just like…

Your face flashed behind his eyes: smiling under Wakandan sunlight, then contorted in pain beneath the Winter Soldier’s blade. His stomach twisted. A hand landed on his shoulder. Steve—bloodied, exhausted—looked at him with the same hollow grief. “He saved us all,” Steve whispered, voice hoarse.

Bucky swallowed hard. “And I couldn’t even save one person.”

Days later, after the dust settled and the funeral for Tony concluded, the Avengers made preparations to return the Infinity Stones to their proper places in the timeline. Steve volunteered to be the one to do it—he insisted he should be the one to make it right.

On a quiet morning at the rebuilt Quantum Platform, Steve approached the pad, the case of stones clutched in one hand. Bucky hovered a few steps away, posture tense, arms crossed. Sam and Bruce were there as well, operating the controls. “We’ll see you back in five seconds,” Bruce said, giving Steve a shaky smile. Steve nodded, stepping onto the platform. He glanced at Bucky, eyes filled with a mixture of resolve and something else that Bucky couldn’t decipher. Then Steve was gone in a flash of quantum energy. Five seconds ticked by. Bruce fiddled with the controls, waiting for a signal.

Another second passed.

Then another.

Bucky’s heart sank. Fear twisted in his gut. Why wasn’t Steve coming back?

Suddenly, Sam pointed across the clearing. Near the shoreline by the compound, an older man sat on a bench, gazing out over the water. He and Sam exchanged confused looks before sprinting over. As they drew closer, they recognized him—Steve, aged and wearing a contented smile.

“I’m sorry,” the older Steve said softly, looking to both Sam and Bucky with fondness in his eyes. “I took a detour.”

“You went back to the 40s, didn’t you?” Sam breathed, understanding dawning. “Peggy?”

Steve’s lips curved gently, but he shook his head. “I saw Peggy, yes. But she…she’d moved on. She lived her life. She was happy.” He let out a breath that seemed to carry decades of contentment. “I couldn’t take that away from her, not after everything. Not just because I wanted one last dance.”

Bucky stood there, uncertain how to react. Part of him had always expected Steve to choose Peggy in the end. “So, you just stayed anyway? On your own?”

Steve carefully opened the case on his lap, revealing an Infinity Stone—one that hadn’t been there before. Bucky frowned, and Sam’s eyes widened, confusion etched on his features.

“This,” Steve explained, tapping the stone, “isn’t from the same stash we used. It’s a spare from a slightly different reality. I got advice from someone who owes us a big favor—someone who knows the Stones in ways we can’t imagine. They told me there was a special timeline where certain tragedies happened that could be undone.”

A look of dawning realization flickered across Bucky’s face. “You…you mean…?”

Steve nodded, placing a wrinkled hand on Bucky’s vibranium arm. “I can send you back. Not to the 1940s—” he smiled kindly, “—but to just before all this started. Before Thanos. Before they…” Steve’s voice faltered. “You, out of everyone, deserves that life, Buck. Both of you do.”

Bucky’s chest tightened, eyes burning with unshed tears. “Steve, I…I don’t understand.”

The older man smiled, sadness and pride mingling in his gaze. “I had my dance. It wasn’t with Peggy—she belonged to her own time. But I found something else worth living for.” He patted a small ring on his finger that Bucky hadn’t noticed before. “In a timeline out there, I found a second chance…not the one everyone expected, but the one I needed. We all deserve that, Buck.”

Sam cleared his throat, clearly reeling from the news. “So, you’re sending Bucky back in time to stop everything from happening?”

“Not everything,” Steve corrected. “The Infinity Stones need to remain hidden until Thanos makes his play. But Bucky can change his own path—and theirs.” He looked at Bucky meaningfully. “You can prevent their death, Buck, and maybe help ensure we’re more prepared for Thanos than we ever were.”

Emotions warred inside Bucky: disbelief, guilt, longing. Could he really go back to you, change things so you’d never meet that fate on the battlefield? Could he warn the Avengers without altering reality in catastrophic ways?

“It’s risky,” Steve admitted, reading the turmoil in his friend’s eyes. “Time travel always is. But something tells me you’ll find a way to make it right. You two always did have each other’s backs. And remember—this is your choice, Bucky. You don’t have to—”

But Bucky already knew his answer. He didn’t need a second invitation. He let out a shaky breath, turning to Sam. “You’ll be okay?”

Sam’s eyes held sadness at the idea of losing another close friend, but he forced a reassuring smile. “I’ll manage. You do what you need to do. And if you succeed, I’ll see you on the other side, right?”

Bucky gave a slight nod. Then he turned back to Steve—his oldest friend. Words failed him, so he placed a hand over Steve’s heart. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice rough. “For everything.”

Steve’s eyes glistened. “No, Buck. Thank you. Now go find them.”

Later that day, at the Quantum Platform

Professor Hulk adjusted the settings, hooking up the new Infinity Stone in a protective container that crackled with cosmic energy. “We’ll send you to a specific date,” he explained, tapping on the console. “Right before everything started going downhill. Remember, you can’t just reveal everything outright. That could break the timeline. But you can steer things—nudge them, warn them—to avoid the worst.”

Bucky gripped the handle of the small time-travel device. Part of him still couldn’t believe this was real. When he closed his eyes, he could almost see you, smiling with that bright, fearless grin, calling him to you. Telling him that he wasn’t alone. As the mechanism powered up, Sam and Steve stood nearby, offering silent support. With one final glance, Bucky nodded. Bruce activated the quantum jump. A surge of light enveloped Bucky. The world around him distorted, twisting into a kaleidoscope of color. A second later, he vanished.

Present-Day (Pre-Infinity War Timeline), Avengers Compound

Bucky materialized in an empty room in the compound—one reserved for weapons storage. He immediately recognized the layout, the hum of the building’s air conditioning. He glanced down at himself. He was wearing a familiar combat outfit, minus the dust and grime of the final battle. His heart pounded. This is real. This is real.

Cautiously, he slipped out of the storage room into the corridor. It was bustling with people—agents, recruits, staff—while monitors on the walls displayed mission briefs from around the globe. A part of Bucky wanted to weep at every sight that was normal. No looming threat from Thanos yet, no sign of half the world turned to dust. Bucky’s stomach churned with anticipation. He needed to find you. But how? He paused, remembering the timeline constraints. He couldn’t just announce he’d come from the future; it could unravel everything.

A sudden voice from behind him nearly made him jump. “Barnes? You back from Wakanda already?” The figure approached, wearing standard-issue tactical gear. It was just a random S.H.I.E.L.D. liaison, but it confirmed that you and the others believed him to have been in Wakanda. Perfect cover.

“Yeah,” Bucky managed, forcing a tight smile that felt alien on his face. “Something came up.”

He slipped past the agent, heading towards the living quarters. He remembered exactly where your room was. When he arrived at your door, his hand hovered over the handle. His heart hammered so hard he feared the entire compound could hear it.

Taking a breath, he knocked softly. From within, he heard shuffling, a muffled “Coming!” Then the door hissed open. And there you stood—every bit as vibrant as Bucky remembered. There was that spark in your eyes, that quick smile of curiosity. The same presence that had made him feel safe even in the darkest times.

Your brow furrowed slightly in surprise. “Bucky? I thought you were still in Wakanda."

The sight of you alive, breathing, unharmed, was overwhelming. Bucky’s breath hitched; tears pricked the corners of his eyes. You were about to say something else when he surged forward, wrapping you in a desperate embrace. His metal arm and flesh hand both pressed against your back, holding on as if you might vanish at any moment.

You froze in shock. “Hey…?” you managed softly, unsure what had shaken him so badly.

When Bucky finally pulled back, he didn’t give you a chance to question him further. He looked into your eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks, and before he could second-guess himself, he kissed you—fierce, trembling, full of pent-up grief and longing. The moment his lips found yours, time seemed to stop. A swirl of emotion poured out of him—sorrow, relief, love, desperation. The kiss was messy and unplanned, but he didn’t care. He needed you to feel how much you meant to him—how much he had lost and found again in that single instant.

At first, you tensed, wholly unprepared for such intensity. Then, sensing the genuine anguish behind it, you softened against him, letting your arms slide up to his shoulders. It was as though some fundamental piece of your bond, across timelines and tragedies, recognized his need.

When you finally broke apart, your breathing was unsteady. A thousand questions hovered in your eyes. “Bucky,” you murmured, voice shaky. “What…what happened? Why are you—”

He swallowed hard, thumb brushing your cheek, memorizing every line of your face. You’re alive. “It’s a long story,” he whispered, voice raw with unshed tears. “I-I can’t explain everything right now. But I—please, I just…need to hold you. Need to know this isn't some kind of dream.”

Your gaze searched his, seeing the pain etched into his features. Tenderly, you wiped away the moisture clinging to his lashes. “Well,” you said softly, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky closed his eyes, silently thanking whatever higher power had granted him this second chance. I will save him, he vowed. I will save us.

[blue-sky336]

Summary: Sylus doesn't like you coming home injured Characters/Pairing: Sylus x GN!Reader Word Count: 391 Warnings: Mention of minor injury A/N: I'm trying a new way of formatting so pls bear with me lol

"Why didn't you call me?

"I didn't want to worry you..."

"What worries me is that you think I wouldn't drop everything in a heartbeat to help you, sweetie." Sylus' warm palm caressed your cheek before gripping your face between his fingers. With his gentle yet stern hold on your face, he carefully inspected every inch of your skin. The most damage he managed to find consisted of the cut that embedded itself in your brow with the swelling of your soon to be black eye to compliment it. You flinch and he takes careful note of how much pressure he should apply when taking care of your wounds.

It was nothing bad. A low-level wanderer had caught you off guard during your routine stroll around the area surrounding the man's safehouse in the N109 zone. You knew you should have told Sylus where you were going, but you simply assumed Mephisto would keep his watchful eye on you as he usually does. Besides, you had taken that path more than a hundred times (that was an exaggeration) and there was never a wanderer in sight, other than today of course.

"It's really nothing, Sy." The nickname flows of your tongue with a small sigh. It always ignited something within him, keeping Sylus on the edge of his seat. Your voice was the purest melody, blessing his ears like any angel would. His steady hands pulled your face close, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours before he rested cheek against yours. Although he seemed big and bad, Sylus was utterly wrapped around your fingers. He shook his head, and you swore his frown deepened just the slightest bit.

"It's not nothing... You are injured." He spoke sternly, "And you didn't think to come to me first." Your eyes widened and face fell into a pitiful frown. You trusted Sylus, but the thought of being a burden lingered in the back of your mind. Instead, you simply nodded and swallowed back your words as those crimson eyes stared deep into your eyes. You would never live down this feeling, the guilt that would bare its claws deep into your back. But for now, you shook the feeling away and let the older man tend to your stinging wounds, relishing in the warmth of his palms and the depth of his gruff voice.

[6rookie-writer0110]

Dating Wednesday Addams and Being bonded with Venom would include...

•When you first met Wednesday, you two didn't say anything to each other.

•Moslty stared at each other.

•Enid found information about you and she told Wednesday about it.

•They caught you talking to yourself, they asked questions and you just lied.

•It’s hard to hide Venom from everyone.

•” I want to eat the kid with glasses,” Venom said.

“No! He is nice to us. He is our friend” You said.

“Who are you talking to?” Wednesday asked.

“Can I eat her? She seems tasty” Venom said.

“No!” You yelled.

Wednesday just stared at you and you run away.

•You are in Fencing class.

•The teacher told you to go against Wednesday.

•She almost beat you but you won because of Venom.

•Wednesday saw Venom take over your body when you saved Eugene.

•Days Later, Wednesday set up a trap in the woods.

•You stepped on the trap and the rope caught your ankle.

•Now you are upside down and she is standing in front of you.

•Wednesday starts to ask questions but you tried not to answer them.

•You gave in and answered her questions.

•Venom took over and he ripped the rope.

•He was going to attack her but she has a weapon to stop him.

•You and Venom are surprised that she isn't scared.

•She didn't show any emotions at all towards you and Venom.

•Wednesday would always appear out of nowhere.

•Venom tried to eat her but she attacked him and he backed down.

•Venom called you a pussy because you didn't ask her to the dance.

•But Enid heard you and Venom talking about it.

•But Wednesday struggled to ask you to the dance.

•You got her black roses for the dance.

•She did like it but she didn't tell you.

•You liked how she danced and you smiled at her.

• Venom wanted to dance.

•When the fake blood fell down and everyone started to run.

•The first kiss happened and you two were covered in fake blood.

•She would always remind you why she hates cell phones.

•You and Wednesday start to date in secret.

•It was hard at first because she doesn't show emotions.

•But Wednesday would write poems to show how she felt.

•Venom tried to eat Enid and Eugene.

•Wednesday would do experiments on you two then Venom heal you.

•When you kiss Wednesday, Venom would ruin the moment.

•She would bring him chocolate.

•You and Venom would help Wednesday when she tried to break in somewhere.

•Venom would get jealous when you spend too much time with her.

•You and Venom unexpectedly met uncle fester.

•When you met her family, her parents asked you many questions.

•She would tell them to stop.

•But Wednesday would use Venom to scare her brother Pugsley.

•When you lie next to her, she would put her hand on top of your hand.

•Venom bonds with Wednesday.

•She loved it, she didn't show it but he knew.

•She felt tall and she stayed out all night with Venom causing chaos.

•Venom loves her.

•Venom would take her side all the time.

•Wednesday likes the scary and dark gifts you get for her.

•Venom and Thing are best friends.

•Thing would be on your shoulder.

•You and Enid fought together against The Hyde.

•You would smile when Wednesday kisses you.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

heyyaaaaa can i pretty please request for an atticus x reader? maybe atticus grows a little liking for his new neighbor (reader) and has been inviting them over for dinner a little too often and his kids are like “you sure you don’t like them 🤔?” And atticus tries to brush it off but it’s very obvious

You never knew how much I really like you.

Atticus Finch x Gender Neutral! Reader romantic headcanon to (small) fic Summary: Atticus's feelings were beyond noticeable, even to Jem and Scout Warnings: None Word Count: 1.4k ₊˚⊹ᰔಇ.

The first time Jem and Scout see Atticus so red in the face is when they are walking back from returning Dill to his house. Their father was standing by your fence, smiling happily as you talked about your day. His cheeks were red as he admired you. When the two got close enough, they heard him ask you to come over for dinner. You accepted it as any good new neighbor does, said your goodbyes, and went back into the home.

“You’re real red-faced, Atticus,” Scout would point out, squinting to look up at her father. Atticus looked over at them and wiped his face, not realizing how obvious it was. He picked her up carefully and walked down the sidewalk back to their home.

“It’s from the sun,” he justifies casually. They felt it was off, he was in the sun all the time, grew up in the south, and they never saw him sweat or undone. His justification made little sense to them.

Atticus spent the night helping Calpurnia set the dining room up for dinner later that night, setting the table with the fine China the kids barely saw outside of very nice holidays or very nice guests. Each moment made Scout and Jem question him more.

“They’re just a new neighbor, why do they get the good China?” Scout would ask plainly, though her tone carried an odd judgmental characteristic. Atticus shook his head and set another plate in Jem’s usual spot.

“They’re still new to the town, it’s good to show them that they’re welcome,” Atticus answered and gave the girl the forks, motioning for her to help set up too.

The dinner was spent with Atticus (a little too cheerfully by Jem’s idea) asking you questions about your life before coming to Maycomb, what you did for a living, and how you were as a person. Scout and Jem would occasionally pipe in and ask you questions, mostly having to do with how you feel about random things (things they like, the Radleys, etc.).

The dinner would end well… that’s what Jem and Scout would say if they didn’t have to go to bed before you left. While they got ready for the night, they occasionally would hear your laugh with Atticus’s, and the sound of the dishes being put away. Just before you left, they got to their bedroom window, watching you leaving the house with a smile. Atticus was probably smiling too, again, a little too red-faced for Scout and Jem to think it was nothing but the sun.

Weeks would go by and seeing you over in their home wasn’t new at some point. The two would wait, watching the corner for Atticus to come home, getting bored from it, and look around to find him talking to you. You stood by your white fence and spoke with great joy on your face, a similar expression on their father's face. They could only guess what was offered by Atticus once they saw the fine China later that night.

“Do you think adults cannot have normal adult friendships?” Atticus asked, sitting down in the living room chair, the accusations of adoration finally spilled by Scout. The sound of sizzling food in the kitchen filled the home with a warm glow, not only from the smell but also from the warm orange light. Scout stood with a blank face and shook her head.

“No,” she said aimlessly. Atticus smiled slightly at her bluntness.

“You had them over twice last week alone,” Jem chirped as he walked from the dining room. “And all the food Calpurnia keeps making for you both are very nice.”

“I treat my guests well,” Atticus stated simply, picking up his book, and opening one of the pages. “I am nothing more than a friend.”

The dinner was spent again like the weeks before, Atticus getting more comfortable with the talking points, and accepting whatever witty comment you made with a chuckle. Scout would fake a gag if a topic changed to something more romantic than she would want her father to be a part of and Calpurnia would pull her away and give her a talk about being kind to her guests. But you weren’t a guest at this point! You essentially live here!

Atticus couldn’t hate you, neither could Jem and Scout. You were kind, even if their father found you fond in a way beyond friendship, it was slightly understandable. You spent your time telling them interesting stories about your life before Maycomb, odd stories about how you’d live before the simplicity of now.

“Atticus likes them,” Jem would say, sifting through his pyjama drawer. You had arrived that night barely an hour before their usual bedtime, only giving them a small amount of time to chat and ask questions.

“I know,” said Scout honestly.

The dinners get more personal, later in the day, there is more time for you and Atticus to be alone without the children needing entertainment, allowing adult talk. Jem and Scout being gone meant he was left with you, getting your attention more to how he truly acted.

The redness of his cheeks, the smile on his face most of the dinner didn’t just get past you. You have been over so many times there wasn’t a moment when you didn’t notice those things. By the end of the dinner, you found your way to the swing on the porch.

“How do you feel about me?” You asked after several seconds of awkward silence. The night had grown quiet, the only sound was the chirps of crickets and cicadas. Atticus sat so close the warmth of your thigh was felt by his own.

“What do you mean?” Atticus asked after clearing his throat. He gently took his glasses from his face and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief. You hesitated momentarily, wondering if you were overreacting and overthinking, or if your ideas were true.

“I mean…,” you trail off, turning your eyes to your hands. “Do you like me?”

Atticus wiped the lenses of his glasses carefully, smiling slightly at the idea. “I do like you,” he admitted, looking away from his glasses for a second to look at you. “You’re very kind, a good neighbor if you will.”

You muse at his answer and shake your head. “No! I mean to have feelings for me. Do you like me like that?” You hastily specify, watching him closely. Atticus moved slowly, taking his time cleaning one of the smudges from the left lens. It was horrific how slow he was moving to answer. “I’ve seen how you look at me.”

“I am glad you can see,” Atticus jokes with a small smile, placing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I have grown a fondness for you… I wouldn’t say it grew as time went on, I thought you were attractive when I first saw you.”

Your eyes stayed on him as he spoke, taking in his words silently. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you at a romantic moment, over a nice dinner or something you would have preferred. But since you asked, I might as well confess,” his words flowed out naturally, like he was in front of a jury, confessing something minute.

“Prove it,” you challenge. It was mostly a joke, very obviously too, but part of you wanted to know he wasn’t just saying those things to get your hopes up. No, Atticus wouldn’t do that. Then again, you only knew so much.

“A kiss then?” He straightened himself and sighed. “I usually wait a bit, but lord only knows how long I’ve got. I might as well kiss you before I can’t.”

Your head went from a slow to a quick nod. Yeah, that is true. Getting a kiss in wouldn’t hurt anyone, definitely not you. Your face was beyond warm and if Atticus dared to touch your face now, he might ask if you’re sick, which wouldn’t be preferred for obvious reasons. “Yeah… yeah, that will do,” you mutter with a smile.

Atticus nodded and moved until your thigh squished against his. It was very obvious he hadn’t done such a thing in a long while, he was beyond rusty with you in his hold, his hands moving from your shoulders to your upper arms. The smell of sandalwood filled your nose as he moved his glasses to his head, letting them sit carefully before leaning in just enough.

His lips were warm, thankfully. You could only hope yours were too since it seemed your spirit left your body at that moment. Atticus was just as gentle when he kissed as when he spoke, keeping it intense enough to be romantic but not too much to be something more. Your hands, almost like instinct, held his lapel, needing to keep him close.

If only he could kiss you forever.

₊˚⊹ᰔಇ.

My TKAM masterlist

My request list

[star-centric]

The friends to lovers prompt list is so cute omg. Okay okay how about "telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)" for Asmo? I love everything you've posted so far alrksk it's so good

PAIRING: Asmodeus x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: I will be an Asmo lover/defender until the day I die 😤😤 he deserves nothing but the best 💘 hope I did your request justice and thanks for reading!

CW: gender neutral reader, fluff, Asmo deserves more love and is so much more than his sin

It didn’t take much for you to realize that you were in love with Asmo.

It surpassed the platonic bond that you both built with one another- the way your heart would beat wildly in your chest when his hands linked with yours so effortlessly, the way his lips felt brushing against your cheek and how it gave way to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach- you knew that he was always so hands-on especially when it came to you, but the growing warmth inside of you was more than enough proof that you started to see him in a different light- and that you grew hopeful that he was the same.

Which is why you felt a pit of dread when you saw how some of his…fans treated him.

Was it jealousy? You didn’t know honestly. It felt like it was at first- the ugly feeling threatening to spill over seeing how some of them acted around him. You tried to look normal, act like everything was fine (after all- you guys weren’t really together no matter how much it seemed like you were), but the bitter taste never left your mouth seeing their hands roaming over him. Then it clicked.

Part of it was jealousy, but another part of it was resentment and…pity.

You resented how some of fans showed their adoration. How they claimed that they loved him so much when they really didn’t. They didn’t know Asmo like you did, but they didn’t try to know him either- the way they only fawned over his looks, his body- they could care less about what he saying, about his interests, about who he really was- their love wasn’t genuine. Not like yours.

And that’s where the pity came in. You felt for Asmo, because as much as he was admired for his looks, he deserved to be loved for more than that. He was more than just his appearance, his sin- he was so much more than what people took at face value. He deserved to be showered in true love- the endless love that you already had for him.

He deserved better- and you could give him better.

And that’s what you told him- partly. But whenever you would try to tell him that you could give him better, your words got caught in your throat as always once you locked eyes with him.

Even now as you both laid side by side under his canopy, a gentle smile lined his lips. It made your heart melt as always whenever you got to see it- it felt different from the smiles he would flash on his socials or to his fans. Like it was reserved only for you.

“Do you think that true love exists?”

You paused before nodding your head, “Yes.”

“Do you think I’ll ever find it?”

His tone held a underlying melancholy to it. You wanted to yell that you’re right here, but all you did was take his hand into yours and gently squeezed.

“I do.”

His smile widened as he pulled you into his arms excited, catching you off guard completely. You returned the hug, despite not knowing why your response made him so happy. He is a bit of a hopeless romantic.

Asmo felt relieved over your answer because it gave him a sense of hope that he was beginning to lose after centuries.

Because he’s experiencing true love with you.

Not the fleeting love that he was used to from flings, but the love that made his own cheeks flush, that made him want to never leave your side or lose you. It was the love he wanted to revel and soak in for years to come. One that left him feeling intoxicated.

It was a beautiful feeling- and it was one that he only wants to experience with you.