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fluentmoviequoter · 2 days ago

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A Princess Worth Saving

Part 4 of Bradford's Princess

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim misses a call from you in your time of need, and after he saves you, he promises never to leave his princess alone again.

Warnings: angst, robbery, r is held at gunpoint, comfort and fluff, domestically dominant Tim, softie!Tim

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: Thank you yet again to @nevereclipse for sharing this idea and letting me have so much fun with it. You're a genius and I hope you like this!

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

Tim pushes your front door open, stepping inside with a large gift box in his arms.

“Hi,” you greet, tipping your head to the side. “Do you need help with that?”

“I got it,” he assures you, kicking the door closed. “You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes even as you smile. As usual, you stand on the couch cushion and wait for Tim to set the box down and approach you. His hands are warm and steady on your hips as you lean forward to hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says while he pulls you over the back of the couch and into his arms.

“For what?”

You loop your arms around his shoulders, leaning your head against his shoulder as you breathe in his cologne.

“I know I said I would go shopping with you tomorrow, but Lopez and Harper caught a case and need all the help they can get,” he explains, rubbing his hand along your back as he circles the couch and sits. “I offered to work with them.”

“That’s fine, Tim,” you say against his neck. You interrupt yourself to plant a kiss below his ear, then pull back to look at him. “It’s your job. I get it.”

“It shouldn’t come between us.”

“It’s not.” You chuckle at the disappointed look on his face, bringing your hands forward to squish his cheeks until he grunts. “It’s a day of shopping, not our wedding. I’ll be fine.”

“Take my credit card,” he offers, dragging his hands along your waist. “Get whatever you want.”

You lean forward, brush your lips against Tim’s, then remind him, “I already have what I want.”

The mall is just opening as you arrive. The stores are turning on their different music, overlapping in the main walkways as gated doors are opened and lights buzz above you. You’d been looking forward to walking through the stores with your hand in Tim’s, getting his feedback about what you wanted to buy, and enjoying the day with him. You didn’t want him to see how disappointed you were, so you maintained a brave face last night and distracted yourself by kissing him. Now, you try to distract yourself from how empty your hand feels and how strange it seems to not have Tim stationed at your side as a guardian, a lover, and a friend.

Your favorite store is your first stop, and you have a short list saved to your phone of everything you want to look at, try on, and buy. Tim usually looks over your shoulder when you scroll through Pinterest or online sales, pointing out what would look good on you or be a good addition to your home, until he distracts himself by playing with your hair or kissing you until you set your phone aside.

After greeting the college-aged girl working behind the counter, you walk to the back of the store and begin looking through hangers and at displays, practically hearing Tim’s voice in your head as you consider what you like.

Lucy tips her chin up when Tim returns from Angela’s desk. They’ve been looking through witness statements and evidence photos in hopes of finding something they can use to identify the robbery and homicide suspect. He’s robbed several stores in a few short weeks, and during the last theft, he shot and killed an innocent bystander. With the full attention of the LAPD, they suspect he’ll either lay low or keep progressing in violence.

“Is that you?” Lucy inquires.

“What?” Tim sighs as he returns to his previous seat.

“That smell. What is it… rose?”

“Oh. It’s some elixir or something,” Tim murmurs, pushing a case file into his designated ‘unhelpful’ pile.

Lucy smiles, leaning over her keyboard. “Did you buy it for a special someone?”

“She does have her own money and free will, you know,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t just buy her things, contrary to station belief.”

“No, you also get all soft and gooey inside when we bring her up. I can see that you want to smile.”

“What I want is to get back to work so I can go home on time. I was supposed to have today off, Chen.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re grumpy. You’re here with me instead of your pretty princess.”

“Are you done?”

Lucy’s smile droops as she admits, “Yeah, I’m done.”

Less than a minute later, she looks away from an evidence log to inquire, “Why do you smell like her elixir or something?”

“Chen,” Tim warns.

She raises her hands and returns to work, assuming she knows why the scent of your skincare lingers on Tim. If he were slightly less grumpy, she’d ask him how long he’s been assisting you in getting ready.

“Does he always target places that have more than one store?” Tim asks. “Malls, strip malls, outlets?”

“Yes!” Nyla calls from her desk.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, turning to his computer to load a map of Los Angeles.

“Ooh, that color would look so good on you,” you tell a woman staring longingly at a sundress.

“You really think so?” she inquires softly.

“Absolutely! It compliments your hair and skin, and I think your eyes would pop against it.”

“It’s a little… bolder than what I usually wear,” she admits.

You run your fingers along the dress, nodding appreciatively at how it feels. “Try it on. Never too late to wear something new.”

She steps forward and finds her size, smiling at you as she asks a nearby employee to unlock the fitting room. You continue browsing, looking for a sweater Tim sent you a screenshot of last week.

“Are you searching for something specific?” the employee whose nametag says Jenna inquires kindly.

You unlock your phone and find the image as you answer, “This sweater. I saw it online, but I wanted to check in store before I ordered it.”

“Oh, yes,” she murmurs, looking over her shoulder. “I think we moved them to one of the racks over by the register. Let me check for you.”

“Thank you so much,” you call after her, glancing toward the fitting room.

The woman you spoke to before steps out, smiling with the dress draped over her arm.

“And?” you ask.

“I love it,” she admits. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Everyone deserves to wear what they love and feel beautiful.”

She thanks you again before approaching the checkout area, and you text Tim to let him know you’re thinking of him. He had a little longer before work this morning than he does most days, so you enjoyed the extra time together. You sat on the bathroom counter as he did your skincare, and you’ve already decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner tonight, making the most of what was supposed to be an entire day together.

“I found them!” Jenna calls, stepping back into your eyeline. “We have more colors here than that online listing, too.”

“Perfect,” you reply, following her through the store as the mall gets busier.

“Are you sure that’s the same guy?” Lucy asks, leaning closer to the monitor.

“We might be able to answer that if we could see him,” Nyla points out.

Lucy pulls back with a mumbled apology, allowing the others to see what they suspect could be security footage from the first robbery. The jewelry store on the other side of the mall captured nearly a minute of footage facing the targeted store before it moved. In the video, a man wearing a black sweatshirt speaks to the man behind the clothing store counter, then runs out with his arms full of clothes and small items.

“He didn’t look like he had a gun,” Angela muses.

“Progression,” Tim says simply as he clicks the mouse to play another video. “This is from this week.”

This video is blurrier, but it shows the gun pulled from his pants, aimed at the store clerk, and then jerked toward the murder victim now lying in the morgue.

“For a few hundred dollars,” Nyla sighs. “Okay, what else did you get?”

“Possible name,” Tim says, passing a police record over his shoulder.

“We’ll get a warrant,” Angela responds. “Keep looking. And thank you.”

Tim lifts his phone from the desk, smiles, and sets it aside again. Lucy decides not to comment, but she briefly wonders if you have any idea how far gone Tim Bradford is for you.

You open your wallet to pay at the third store you visit, shaking your head when you see Tim’s credit card tucked in front of your ID. Last night, you told him you didn’t need him to buy you anything, though you appreciated the offer. It’s one of the ways Tim shows he loves you, you know, but it’s not necessary. Maybe you’ll use it on one little thing you can both enjoy, like a book or something for dessert.

With another bag hooked on your arm, you enter a store marketing the newest pop culture merchandise and vinyl records. You don’t need anything, and it isn’t on your list, but you’re sure you’ll find something you like or that Tim might enjoy.

“Welcome,” the store attendant calls over the music. “Let me know if you need help or a fitting room.”

“Thank you,” you reply, walking toward the large clearance sign at the back of the store.

As you look through the hangers of graphic tees and patterned hoodies, your gut tells you something is wrong. Since dating Tim Bradford, your instincts have sharpened and begun to sound like him. You move toward the door but hesitate when you see a limited-edition Dodgers jersey. No one enters the store, and the clerk is more than happy to help you get Tim’s size from the wall and even gives you 10% off. Shaking your head as you exit the store, you check your phone before you head to the next store. Now, when you think about missing Tim, you wonder how you managed to go shopping without him carrying your bags before. The thought makes you smile, and you text Tim another short update and reminder that you love him, for more than carrying your bags… and you, when the occasion calls for it.

“Bradford, you got anything?” Nyla asks over the radio.

“Negative,” Tim replies. “Boss said he didn’t show up today and he’s on his third strike. We’ll drive by the house again, check a few stores along the way.”

“Okay. Keep us updated.”

Tim sets the radio in the console, slowing as he nears a strip mall less than three blocks from the suspect’s job. It looks normal, people come and go freely, so he continues driving.

“Where do you think he is?” Lucy asks.

“Laying low,” he replies. “He isn’t a cold-blooded killer; he shot someone, so he’s probably letting that cool off before he pulls another job.”

“Isn’t it weird that he doesn’t take much? That he hits stores and malls with lower-end prices?”

“He’s targeting places he’s more likely to get away with robbing,” Tim says. “They’re not as likely as say a jewelry store to have cameras or to prosecute. Insurance pays out, they write it off. That’s why a shooting throws such a major wrench in his plan.”

“Interesting,” Lucy hums. “Hey, there’s another mall a block east of here, if you want to check it out.”

Tim nods, hitting his blinker to turn off before they check his house.

“Good morning,” you greet as you enter a men’s clothing store.

“Morning,” the teenage boy behind the counter replies. “Everything is 25% off today, and clearance is buy one get one for a dollar.”

“Awesome. Thank you!”

“Sure. My name’s Dustin, let me know if you need anything.”

You nod, moving slowly along the right wall, looking for something Tim would wear. He spoils you with gifts, and though it isn’t your preferred love language (not like it is for him, at least), you like getting him small things and spending time with him while he enjoys it.

This is the busiest store you’ve been in today, but you attribute that to the sale and the fact that it’s nearing lunchtime. Four men browse the clearance racks while two more talk about colors and debate which items to try on. You smile at the only other woman in the store, who taps her finger back and forth between two different sizes, like she’s trying to remember what size she needs to buy.

“Sir, that door needs to stay open,” Dustin calls. “Mall policy.”

The door clicks closed, and you turn just as the hoodie-wearing man slides the lock into place. “Everybody stay calm, and this will go a lot smoother and faster,” he says.

You step backward, your eyes widening as you drop your bags and fumble for your phone. The woman beside you ducks behind the closest rack, whispering to whom you assume is a 911 dispatcher. One of the men makes a discreet call, holding his phone against his leg. Your first idea isn’t 911, however. After you tap Tim’s name, you pull a shirt off a display table to drape over your wrist and hide your ringing phone.

“Nobody move!” the man demands, raising a gun above his head. “Empty the register.”

Dustin nods as he fumbles with the control on the tablet beside him. The woman beside you ends her call abruptly when the intruder walks toward the back of the store. Tim’s voicemail plays, muffled beneath the shirt as you attempt to end the call. Before you can move your other hand, the man rips the shirt away. His fingers wrap cruelly around your wrist, tugging you closer as he displays your phone to the other shoppers-turned-hostages.

“You see this?” he yells. “Stupid! I said stay calm and stay where you are.”

You turn your head away from him, his voice too loud in your ear, and his touch painful. He twists your arm sharply, causing you to drop your phone onto the table your thighs are pressed against. You quickly forget that your arm is suspended over your head and pulled back painfully when the cold barrel of a gun is pressed against your temple.

“Don’t do what she did,” the man says, quieter now, as his chest heaves against your side. “How’s that register coming?”

“It’s open, but we haven’t been to the bank yet this week or anything, so there isn’t much,” Dustin rambles.

“Well, that won’t do. What should we do about that?” he asks, leaning too close to you as his hand twitches on the gun.

“If he moved out yesterday, he was probably upset about the shooting, right?” Lucy asks, returning to the shop after an unhelpful conversation with the suspect’s former roommate.

“That’s one possibility,” Tim replies, closing the door too hard. His phone lights up, and he furrows his brows when he sees a missed call from you. He wasn’t gone long, and you rarely call when he’s at work. As he prepares to call you back, dispatch radios an alert of a robbery in progress.

“The mall,” Lucy sighs. “Think it’s our guy?”

Tim is no longer concerned about that. He hits the lights and sirens, yanks the gear shift into Drive, and steers the shop into a tight U-turn to speed toward the scene. It’s not just any mall, it’s the mall you are in. Tim decides not to call you back, his adrenaline pumping as his mind threatens to show him the worst-case scenarios.

“Tim,” Lucy grunts. “Easy.”

He doesn’t reply, blowing through a red light as he nears the mall.

“What store?” he asks.

Lucy opts not to argue. She raises the radio to ask where exactly the armed suspect is, then tells Tim. He follows the signs toward the entrance closest to that store, pulling up onto the curb before he pulls his gun from his side and leads Lucy inside.

The mall is evacuating, so people are running out toward their cars, some screaming while others shove people and displays aside carelessly.

“Where?” Tim barks at a security guard cowering behind a table in the food court.

“Straight through this archway, and then right,” the man answers, pointing weakly with his stun gun.

“Put that away before you hurt someone,” Lucy demands.

She follows Tim as they enter the archway. He clears the corner, then moves quickly but carefully toward the closed door separating him from you and a man with a gun.

“Tim, think about this first,” Lucy pleads.

“I am,” he assures, ducking to look through the windows covering the front of the store. “One armed at the back of the store,” he tells her. “One civilian behind the counter.”

“And the door is locked,” Lucy adds, nodding toward the heavy metal rod holding the door in place.

“Back up,” Tim requests.

He stays low and shoots through the glass panel beside the door. It shatters as his shot echoes, but he doesn’t care about the noise as he climbs through the opening, his gun aimed at the thief.

Tim swallows and moves his gun an inch to the left when he sees that the man has a hostage. He reminds himself that he can’t remember it’s you, not if he wants to ensure you go home safely with him. For now, he’s Tim Bradford, the cop, not Tim Bradford, the man with a princess in need of saving. A cruel voice in his head points out that you might not be in this situation if he’d answered your call, but it’s too late to think like that.

“LAPD,” Lucy yells, taking her position beside Tim. “Put the weapon down and let me see your hands."

The man shakes his head and moves behind you, his gun at your temple and his other arm around your neck. You keep your eyes on Tim, your teeth grinding together painfully as you dig your fingers into your palms.

“Out,” Tim demands. Dustin rushes out through the broken window, disappearing around the corner as the two men closest to the entrance follow after him.

“Let the other hostages go,” Lucy encourages. “Then we can talk.”

“Sure,” the man says. “Everyone behind me can go.”

The rest of the customers take that invitation, running as fast as they can out of the store. Then, you’re left alone with a crazed gunman who didn’t get what he wanted, and two cops who don’t have a clear shot. Tim nods to you, nearly imperceptibly, but you don’t know what it means. Is it a promise he’ll save you, a command to do something?

“It’s over,” Tim says. “Let her go, and this goes much smoother for you.”

“I lost everything,” the man behind you replies. “It’s been over.”

You look at Lucy, then quickly turn your eyes to the left. She narrows her eyes slightly, so you move your fingers away from your palm. She tips her head quickly, then adjusts her grip on her gun.

“Bradford,” she murmurs softly. “Derecha.”

At that, you pull to your left, gaining less than a foot of freedom before the man tightens his grip on your neck. Or tries to. Tim takes the opening, firing at his chest. His arm falls away as you stumble back toward Lucy, who holsters her gun and steps toward you.

“Cuff him, Chen,” Tim says, taking her place. He pulls you into his arms, tucking your face against his chest as you cling to his uniform. You hear Lucy talking into her radio, but you’re so relieved to be with Tim that you don’t listen. Within a few minutes, you’re being led away from your boyfriend and escorted into an ambulance. The paramedics tell you it’s just a quick check of your vitals, but you watch the mall parking lot outside as they work, ignorant of what they do as you wait until you can return to Tim.

“I understand,” Tim tells Wade. “Can I go now?”

Wade sighs as he signs off on Tim’s statement. He nods, then walks toward the sergeant interviewing Lucy. Tim turns toward the line of ambulances parked in the handicap spaces, but he doesn’t know which one you’re in.

You’ve been waiting beside a police car for the last minute and a half, watching Tim's back. So, when he turns away from his watch commander and is alone, you don’t hesitate to run toward him. He doesn’t see you coming, yet still manages to catch you in his arms. Relief floods into him, seeping into you where you’re pressed against him.

Tim clings to you, one arm secure around your waist, while the other hand raises to your shoulder to brush your hair away from your face.

“Get out of here, Bradford!” Angela yells when she sees you in his arms. “Take her home!”

Tim takes you to his home, though you spend enough time at each other’s places that the lines are beginning to blur. He pats your hip after helping you change, a silent instruction to sit on his bed. You obey, watching his back as he disappears into the bathroom. You haven’t spoken yet, aren’t sure where to start, but being this close to Tim is the only way you think you’ll be able to deal with what you’ve been through.

When Tim returns, he has a wet cloth and a bottle of lotion. Your bags from the mall are still in Tim’s trunk, but he placed a book, a drink, and your favorite snack on the nightstand for you, so you have more than everything you need.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tim says, standing between your legs. He sets the lotion beside you, then hooks his finger beneath your chin to lift your face.

“I was scared,” you whisper. “But when you got there, I knew everything would be okay.”

Tim nods, frowning as he observes the bruise on your forehead and the redness of your neck. He dabs the cool washcloth against your injuries, then gently wipes the rest of your face. When he’s content and convinced that you're comfortable, he steps away to put the cloth in the sink, but he’s back at your side in mere seconds.

Tim helps you get comfortable in his bed, reclined against pillows with everything you need in reach. He picks up the lotion as he joins you in bed, passing you the remote. After you turn on your favorite movie, Tim takes your hand. He squeezes a drop of your favorite lotion into your palm, closes the tube against his leg, and rubs his thumb over your palm, spreading the lotion with a relaxing pressure and his usual reverence. He uses both hands to massage you, moving the lotion down your fingers as you relax beside him. Every second he touches you is calming, and you’d be content to stay here forever, you think.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes with your other hand.

“I should have answered the phone,” he replies. “I’ll answer next time.”

“It’s not your fault, Tim. You saved me. That’s more than I’d ever ask for.”

“You’re going to be okay?”

“I am,” you assure him. “Mostly because you’re here, and I’m not alone.”

Tim smiles, kisses your hand, and invites you to recline against his side. Comfortable under his arm, you can feel his heart beating as he drags his fingers up and down your arm.

“You’ll never be alone,” he promises. “Everything and everyone that you face… your enemies have to contend with me, and I’ll never be far. I won’t miss another call.”

“I love you,” you say, turning your face toward his. “I love you so much, Tim.”

“I love you,” he promises, kissing you gently as he tugs you impossibly closer.

You might be Tim’s princess, but he will always be more than a prince. He’s a knight, a protecter, a pamperer, and that's just the surface of who he is. He’s yours, he’s the love of your life, he’s a constant, and you will be by his side no matter what.

“I was going to buy you a gift,” you murmur, “but something came up.”

“Gifts are my job,” Tim argues. “Besides, this is more than enough for me.”

You chuckle, then pull Tim’s shoulder. He understands what you’re inviting him to do, and he slides down in the bed to hook his arm around your waist and rest his head on your chest.

“Angela wants to know when you’re up to meeting everyone,” Tim says against your sternum, growing heavier against you as you run your nails along his back.

“I was always ready,” you remind him.

“You met Lucy today, that’s enough for now.”

“Whatever you say.”

Tim slides his hands along your waist as he reaches up to kiss your jaw, then he relaxes again, and your memories of being scared disappear as you find comfort in Tim Bradford, growing happier each day you are lucky enough to be his princess.

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 days ago

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Walk Through Darkness | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

She will walk through the darkness to find him.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of depression and hypomania, panic attacks, depressive episodes, self-loathing behaviors, established relationships

Author's Note: Companion to Honey & Glass but you don't need to read it to understand!

Talk to Me! | AO3

Some days are better than others.

Bob said it himself, when they first met: sometimes he has high highs and then he crashes, and those days are the lowest of lows.

She knows this, and she understands. Bob doesn’t think she does, and he tries to shield her from it whenever he has bad days. But it’s not the bad days that she worries about; the bad days, she can get through to him a little more. It’s those high days –the days when he suddenly thinks he’s invincible (it does not help that he technically is). When he thinks that he’s cured of his self-loathing, and he’s better than he’s ever been.

It’s harder to get through to him on those days.

Bob gets happy –touchy, feely, confident –during these days. The first time he has a manic episode, she doesn’t realize it immediately. She thinks –maybe stupidly, maybe selfishly –this is a good sign. He wants to go out on a date; he wants to see a movie and “make out in the back row like a couple of dumb teenagers.” He’s even combed his hair, thrown on something that’s not his favorite sweater and sweats, and tells her to get ready. She’s all for it too –gets dressed up some, puts on makeup and a cute dress –and they go to the movie theatre.

Well, they try.

On the walk there, he gets distracted by an art exhibit taking over Times Square, tugging her hand to pull her along to look at the screens as they shift images of colors and shapes. He completely forgets they’re supposed to make a seven o’clock movie, caught up in the colors and the people and everything going on around them. He wants to tip every street performer and is wrapping his arm around her shoulders like he’s going to lose her if he lets go.

Then he refuses to go home.

He says they should stay out all night; that there’s no reason to go back to the WatchTower because he can protect them from whatever’s out on these streets.

“I’m the Sentry,” he reminds her, and he’s purposely walking towards a not-so-good neighborhood.

This is when she realizes something is wrong. Maybe she should have noticed it before, but the distractedness isn’t uncommon for Bob, and she was just…really happy he wanted to go out, honestly.

“Bob,” she warns, pulling him to a stop. He’s beaming down at her, but his eyes are also shifting towards a dive bar that does not look like the kind of place she wants to go to. “I want to go home, Bob,” she insists, tugging on his hand.

“Why?” He asks, and he is –in fact –stronger than she is and doesn’t budge. “It’s fine –I won’t let anything happen. Seriously, it could be fun –,”

“Please take me home,” she says, more firm now, and he makes a face as he feels the pin prick of her powers in his head.

“We can go home if you get out of my head,” he counters, frowning deeply. His eyes are flickering that golden hue and she knows that she’s pushing him too far.

She nods, slipping away from his thoughts and he sighs. Then he groans, and runs his hands over his face. “You’re mad at me. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“I’m just tired,” she tries again, motioning to her feet. “I wasn’t prepared to walk all over –I would have worn anything but heels, you know?”

This seems to make more sense to him and he nods some. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I could have carried you –,”

“Please do not carry me,” but she’s laughing a little, trying to ease the tension. Then she reaches out to take his hand again. “Let’s just go back to the Tower –we can watch a movie there.”

“I was really looking forward to that back row kiss,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again, holding her hand still.

“Next time.”

She knows what to look for now though –it’s still hard to bring him down. But it’s not impossible.

The low days are bad too –don’t get her wrong. They’re just harder in a different way.

The low days, she’s not worried he’s going to try to be all powerful. She’s more worried he’s going to sink into those shadows again. Those are the days that it takes more energy to mask his nightmares; where his thoughts are so loud and so frantic that they scare her.

But she promises him that she’s not scared of him. She’s scared for him.

The low days always follow the high days, but they last twice as long. He recedes into himself; refuses to talk to her (or anyone for that matter). They give him a day –they watch from afar, they make sure he eats and drinks water –but they give him that day. But after a day, the team picks him up. She picks him up.

Sometimes it’s just all of them sitting together and watching movies. He doesn’t exactly join –he sits in his corner, with his books and his chaise, but he’s in the same room. She sits on the floor next to him, because she knows he doesn’t want to be touched just yet.

These are the days she lets him decide what he wants from her.

But this episode –it’s worse than the first one. Not as bad as what happened the first time they had met, but still bad enough that the shadows are staining the edges of the Tower before anyone really notices. He’s been coming out and talking to people –short, barely audible interactions, but they’re there. He’s touching her hand, just enough to remind her he’s there. But he’s tired, and they can tell, and Alexei suggests he go lay down. They’d come to check on him in a bit. He just takes a bottle of water and walks away.

She’s one that checks on him. And that’s how she sees the shadows, inching their way into her room.

He’s locked himself in her bedroom, because her bedroom has a lock and his does not, for his own safety.

The code pad has been overridden and she can’t get the door to open.

“Bob,” she pleads through the door but the shadows are moving faster, slithering over her feet as they flood under the crack of the door. “Bob, please open the door.”

When he doesn’t answer, she yells out for someone –anyone, really at this point –to help her get this damn door open. Bucky is who responds the fastest, prying her door open just enough for her to squeeze inside. The shadows scatter, only for a moment, before they swarm again. Then they’re wrapping around her. Bucky is trying to get the door open entirely, but there’s an unseen barrier that’s blocking the rest of them from entering the room.

“Hey,” she whispers, kneeling into the shadows that are surrounding him.

He’s shaking, cross legged on her floor, holding a vinyl in his hands that’s melted against his palms. Gently, afraid that she’ll scare him if she moves too fast, she pries the remainder of the vinyl from him. Then she throws it away. The shadows practically hiss at her as she shifts to sit cross legged in front of him, mirroring his position.

“It’s…he’s so loud,” he murmurs, his voice shaking as he holds back tears. “It won’t stop. I…I can’t get him to stop –,”

She hushes him gently, holding her hands out, palms up. He doesn’t move, and she doesn’t force him. The shadows are pooling in her lap, and she can hear their whispers –whispers of her misdeeds, of his, of darkness. Trying to coax them both into the Void and the shadows. They’re trying to consume her but her mind is easier to shield than his, and she refuses to let the Void win.

The shadows are creeping up his hands now, and she finally moves cautiously to take his hands in hers. The shadows recede, as if fearful of her touch. The reality is that, in his mind, when she touches him like this –letting the shadows slink around her like snakes and brush against her skin –he is reminded of how much he is cared about. And that care, no matter how much he fears it will go away one day –staves off the darkness just enough. Because she’s telling him that she is not afraid of him.

She will walk through the darkness to find him.

The shadows have stopped spreading but they have not gone away. Bob finally looks up at her –eyes red rimmed, puffy from crying. His entire body is shaking –but he cringes when she presses into his mind. She’s gotten better at smoothing out the thoughts; of softening them. She only does it when he asks, or in moments like this, where there is a danger of him falling again. They both know he needs to learn to handle them himself, but she refuses to let him suffer in these darkest moments.

Her hands slide up his wrists, over his arms, up his biceps. They rest just below his jaw, thumbs running over his cheeks gently as she pushes something softer into his mind. The shadows hiss further, retreating from the light, and she can hear the Void in his mind –cursing, threatening. Reminding Bob that he’s nothing to everyone, including her. How can he be a hero when he can’t even help himself? Why do you waste your breath on a man that’s not whole? He’s nothing, and deserves nothing. You’re going to leave anyway.

“No one is whole,” she reminds him gently, pressing her forehead against his gently. “We’re all made up of broken pieces, and every person who loves you is a stitch that puts you back together.”

Bob closes his eyes, nodding slowly as his breathing evens out. The shadows recede –slowly, reluctantly pulling away and returning to the darkest corner –and the barrier keeping the team out drops. Bucky pries the door open but Yelena stops them from entering. The team doesn’t leave, but they don’t interrupt.

“I’m sorry,” he says, though his voice is sluggish and it's clear that he’s exhausted. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to –,”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she promises, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks. His hands reach out to grip her wrists, anchoring himself in the softness that’s spreading across his mind. Letting it wash over him as the Void slowly but surely is washed away for the time being. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He nods, though his eyes are shut still. She taps her thumb against his cheek, telling him to look at her. Bob’s eyes open, and the gold glow that takes over is gone, freeing the blue that always reminds her of the sky on a cloudless day. His gaze is unfocused for a moment, glossy, as he blinks away the tears and the darkness before he finally settles on her face.

“What’s the secret?” He asks, voice small as the thoughts she plants slip away and leave him to fend for himself. There’s a flinch, but she doesn’t feel the shadows returning so she lets him handle it himself from here on.

“I love you,” she confesses, though it feels silly to confess something that has been obvious for several weeks now. “Let me safety pin the pieces of you together until we have the right thread.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Yelena shoving everyone away from the door. She’s shushing them, especially Alexei, who is trying to celebrate for the two. But the team disappears and leaves the two be, knowing they would be okay without support now.

“You…you don’t mean that,” Bob tries to argue; tries to pull away from her touch. But she holds him there. “You don’t want to love me –,”

“Robert Reynolds, I walked into the shadows without knowing if I was going to die,” she reminds him, forcing him to look at her. “And I didn’t even know you when I did that. I wasn’t a superhero, I wasn’t an assassin, or a supersoldier. I was an assistant. I did not walk into those shadows because I wanted to save the world, I walked into those shadows to save you. And I will walk into the shadows every single day if it means I get to love you another day.

“I do mean it when I say I love you, because you are easy to love, and you are worthy of it,” she continues, and there’s tears starting to form at the edges of her eyes as she takes a deep breath. “I love you more than…than I think I’ve ever loved anyone, which I know probably sounds insane because we’ve only been dating for like two months, but I can’t help it.

“So do not tell me I don’t mean it, and that I don’t want to love you. Because I do mean it and I do want to love you. And there’s nothing you could do to make me stop loving you.”

He wants to argue, she can see it in his eyes and the way his brows knit together in frustration. But there’s something behind his eyes –something that says he desperately wants to believe her. So he doesn’t argue, and slowly nods.

“I…I love you too,” he finally breathes, blinking away his tears. She smiles at him with watery eyes and shaking hands against his skin still. “I’ve never…I never thought I’d find someone like you. After everything –all the things I’ve done before the superpowers and even after –I just…I know I’m hard to love –,”

“Hey, no,” she interrupts. “It’s not hard to love you. It’s like breathing –,”

“You can’t mean that –,”

“I do –,”

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally settles on, and she bites her tongue. She’ll bring it up later, when he’s less stuck in his head and remind him. “I just…thank you. For loving me.”

She wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to thank her but she pauses, deciding to just…accept it for now. “You’re welcome, Bob. Thank you for loving me too.”

His hands drop from her wrists, rubbing his eyes. “Can we…can we take a nap?”

“A nap does sound really nice right now,” she admits with a soft laugh.

She stands up, holding out her hands to pull him up. When he’s up, he doesn’t release her, though, and instead pulls her into a tight hug. His arms wrap around her shoulders, clinging to her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head. She curls her arms around his middle, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck, sighing into his skin.

“I love you,” he repeats into her hair, squeezing her tight.

“I love you too,” she promises.

They stand there like that for a while.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #sentry x reader #sentry #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts

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back2bluesidex · 2 days ago

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Noona - Geum Seongje (WHC 2)

summary: Having a crush on a delinquent highschooler is definitely not a good idea.

pairing: geum seongje x fem older!reader

genre: fluff? ig.

word count: 1k

A/N: Writing something that's not about bangtan is always tough. but ngl, weak hero class has changed the trajectory of my life. While I am a sieun & suho girlie, I find seongje interesting. hence, this fic. enjoy, ig.

btw, I also have written a tiny sieun x suho that you can find here. if you wanna read I mean.

You should run, or at least scream. But oddly enough, your feet stay planted in their own places - as if they have their own minds - stubborn enough to listen to whatever solution your brain is supplying currently.

The scene unfolds right before your face. A highschooler is slammed on the nearest wall with a loud enough thud to jolt your core, another gets a blow on his face - neck almost breaking, the next one is tackled so fiercely that his face smashes into the ground, he starts bleeding instantly.

There are some other movements but you are so taken aback by the bloody mess just a few steps away from your shoes, that you don’t see anything else happening.

Your eyes are planted on the pool of blood just when you see a figure walking over to you from your peripheral vision, skipping over the bloody mess, to approach you.

And then you see him. With some difficulty, you pull your eyes from the ground to look at the face of the center of whatever massacre that took place a few seconds ago.

It’s another high schooler.

Uniform tucked under a vigorously orange windbreaker. By the looks, anyone would call him a nerd but you, although unaware of the boy’s identity, know better.

His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose. Fire dances in his eyes as he takes a good look at you.

Even in the dim light of the shady alleyway - the boy looks handsome.

It’s only when he comes closer, you spot a mole under his left eye and his handsomeness increases by ten fold.

Only if he wasn’t almost five years younger than you…

Only if he just didn’t beat up at least eight guys right before you…

“Did you see anything, noona?” the guy asks, stepping dangerously close to you. You step back.

He says those words with a casualness as if he knows you for years.

You don’t reply. He grins. And fuck! Why does he have to be so hot?

“Don’t make me sad. Come on, I need a reply.” he presses.

“What will you do if I say yes?” your voice comes out confident, the exact opposite of what you are feeling inside.

The guy only smiles.

“Then I will make sure that you don’t misunderstand anything. These guys were bullying my friend so I just taught them a lesson. Is that believable?” He gestures towards the beaten up boys who now have started fleeing one by one.

“No. Not at all.” you reply.

The guy breaks into a loud laugh.

“You are intelligent. And that’s why I will expect you to forget whatever happened here, yeah? Oh and by the way, I’m Geum Seongje. We will meet again.” and with that he walks away. His figure slowly disappears in the dark mouth of the alley and you find yourself tracing the fading shape of his silhouette.

You need sleep.

You really need to sleep and forget.

The second time you meet Seongje is when you turn the corner of the same alleyway and take the road that leads straight to your apartment complex’s entrance.

You don’t see him at first, so he takes it upon himself to gain your attention.

“Noona, how are you doing?” He starts walking beside you and you jump out of your skin in terror.

“The fuck!” you scream, “you scared me!”

He laughs, full and bright, minus the mirth, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“What are you doing here?” your eyebrows bunch together in a frown. You thought he left you with a warning that night? Then what is he doing here right now?

“Just checking up on you.”

“You mean checking up on whether I reported anything to the police?”

“That too”

You stop, half because you are annoyed with the boy’s unannounced appearance, half because you have reached your destination.

You are about to come up with a verbal blow when something catches your eyes. The corner of Seongje’s mouth is cracked.

He follows your line of sight and smirks, “it’s nothing”

“Come in with me. Don’t go around being bruised like this.” Your proposal takes both of you and him off guard.

You don’t know what made you prompt such an offer to a stranger. He is probably wondering the same.

But none of you make any more arguments as he follows you closely behind.

You can tell Geum Seongje gets into fights quite often by the way his hands work in automation while applying first aid.

You place a glass of water on your coffee table as he puts a bandaid on his knuckle.

“What’s the point of it if you are going to get hurt?” you question absent-mindedly.

“Not all of us get to live a comfortable life. We are forced to the battlefield even before we learn to stand and by the time we understand what’s happening, fighting becomes a habit.” a look of hurt, solemness flashes on his eyes. But those are gone as soon as they come.

You ponder upon his words. Whatever he said is pretty deep and not every highschooler would think in such a way.

“Have you eaten?” you divert the conversation.

Seongje’s eyes widen.

“What is it with you, noona? First treatment and now food? Do you like me or something?” his smug smile is back on his face, gums flashing - your heart does a quick skip.

“Yah! What- what are you-”

“Oh you are blushing!” he laughs. Your face feels way too hot for your own liking. Before you can deny his accusations, he stands up, “sorry, but I have to go now. Got some unfinished business. But if you don’t mind…” he fishes his phone out of his pocket and extends it towards you.

You contemplate for a second before taking the device from him and punching your number and your name in it.

“Noona, your name is as pretty as your face. You are totally my type.” he smiles again. The funny feeling in your stomach only deepens.

“Get out of my house!” you fake annoyance.

Seongje casually strolls towards your door. He throws a casual, “I’ll see you again” over his shoulder before the door closes behind him.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

You have a crush on a highschooler?? That too a delinquent?? What’s wrong with you!!!???

#geum seongje x reader #seongje x reader #wolf keum #geum seongje #weak hero x reader #geum seong je #geum seongje imagine #geum seongje scenario #whc2 x reader #weak hero class two #keum seongje #weak hero class 2 #wolf keum x reader #geum seong je x reader #whc2 #weak hero

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itzpookiepooh · 19 hours ago

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Hiii I really love your writing and I was wondering if you could make the lads (Love and Deepspace) boy going to the reader or mc's house and when entering her room they find some clearly masculine piece of clothing (like boxers or something like that) and they start to think too much about it like she's bringing another man home or some other jealous thoughts only to discover in the end that it was from the reader or mc's herself

That’s Mine!

Rafayel nearly fell out when he came over and saw the boxers on the floor. Were you cheating on him? Was he not enough? Did he have to kill whoever it was? His mind was running rampant with thoughts of you with another man. He bursts into the bathroom where you were showering and opened the shower door.

“Whose are these!?” He shouts holding the boxers on one finger. You were lathered in soap confused and a bit scared from the abrupt actions.

“What?” You analyze the cloth and sigh, “those are mine! Panties aren’t always breathable you know?”

Rafayel sighs in relief as he leans on the shower door. He explains his thoughts to you making you shake your head at your dramatic boyfriend. He kisses your soapy cheek apologizing for his rude outburst.

Caleb was doing laundry when he saw them. The boxers sitting at the bottom of the washing machine. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He never saw you in boxers. EVER. He wanted to ask you but he didn’t want to cause a scene. Is what he would’ve thought if he didn’t think someone else was leaving their dirty clothes in your room!

“Alright I know Zayne has more home training than leaving his clothes here unclean.” He announced swinging the underwear from the basket. The way he burst into the bathroom nearly gives you a heart attack.

You look side to side before your gaze falls on him. What is he talking about? You just stare at him as he pulls out boxers making you become flustered. Swinging your underwear around was the last thing you expected from Caleb.

“Caleb.” You stated firmly, “Those are mine.” He becomes flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, pipsqueak. I got jealous is all.” He explains as he rubs the back of his neck. You make a face at him before submerging into the bubbles in the bathroom again. You accept his apology making his features soften.

“Now that that’s over.” He says mostly to himself, he basically disappears out of his clothes. Your eyes go wide before you lift your hands up waving them.

“Caleb wait!” You interrupt, “Too late!” He cheerfully exclaimed as he hops in the tub. You groan as he clings to you.

“You’re sitting on my legs.” You inform him making him hop up and hurdle apologies at you.

Zayne knew you had a pretty chaotic wardrobe. There was no simple aesthetic to it. You got whatever you liked. Today however he was confused to find an oversized shirt in the laundry he was folding. It wasn’t his that he was certain of. He did remember you saying that you stayed with a friend until the rain died down the other day though. He folded it and put it to the side before going to find you in the gaming room.

“Is this a colleagues? I’ve never seen you wear it so I’m making sure to put it where it goes.” He asks you, showing you the shirt in question. You know that flicker in his eyes.

“It’s mine. I needed looser clothes because I was uncomfortable during my cycle last week.” You put it to him simply. He hums at your answer before folding it and walking into your shared bedroom to put it away.

Xavier got pouty when he saw the pajama pants. He knew you would NEVER but he couldn’t help the jealousy he felt from you borrowing others clothes. He was right here with a full wardrobe for you to choose from. He asked you about it which made you giggle at his jealousy.

“I like Spider-Man and they don’t really make it for me so I went to the men’s section and got the pants!” You explain to him with a bright smile. He sighed before hugging you.

“I have a whole wardrobe for you to pick clothes from.” He mumbles into your neck. You laugh at the way his breath tickles your neck.

“But none of them are Spider-Man are they?” You tease as he groans in embarrassment. You laugh at him and caress his hair. Your poor jealous baby.

Sylus stared at the cargo pants in confusion. They weren’t technically yours in his eyes since the size was in men’s. He immediately assumed they may be Luke or Kieran’s and got mixed in with your things. When he calls them into his office to tell them they were so confused.

“Those aren’t ours boss.” Luke says crossing his arms. Kieran nods mimicking his twin.

“Yeah. We don’t own a pair.” Kieran adds as Luke nods in confirmation. You just so happened to walk by and widen your eyes at what Sylus was holding. You rush in and grab them.

“They’re mine! Stop flaunting my clothes.” The twins snicker to one another making you glare in their direction.

“Men’s pants?” Sylus teases with his usual smirk. You huff and cross your arms.

“They fit better and went with my outfit.” You stick your tongue out at him, leaving the room. Not before plucking the twins for their excessive laughter. It was now Sylus’ turn to laugh.

#pookie n’ lads °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #caleb love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deep space #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads #lnds #l&ds

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juulessturn · 3 days ago

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home late .

chris sturniolo x reader .

angsty (?) start , sweet ending , smutty everything else .

chris opened the front door and climbed the stairs. it had been a relatively fun, but long night with his friends. his girlfriend was on the couch, looking up at him as he walked in.

it was late– late enough that nick and matt were already asleep. for the past few months, his girlfriend had been more or less living with them. she still had her own place, but neither of them liked sleeping alone, so they always ended up together, no matter whose apartment it was.

he said that he wanted her to stay there but that he wouldn’t be home for most of the day. he promised to be back by midnight, give or take. by now it was well past that, his phone had died hours ago, and without a charger, he hadn’t been able to call or text, and she was pissed.

she didn’t say anything right away, just stared at him, eyebrows raised, arms crossed, the tv still playing something no one was really watching.

“my phone died,” he said quietly. “i couldn’t find a charger, i didn’t mean to disappear.” he walked closer to the couch.

she sighed “you could’ve figured something out. borrowed one. asked someone. did you not want them to know i was waiting? because i was waiting.” her voice wasn’t loud, she didn’t like to yell, and even if she did, it was late, she was tired, and his brothers were asleep.

he nodded, running a hand through his hair as he sat down on the edge of the couch, leaving just enough space between them. “i didn’t think to ask someone, i’m sorry. that’s it though– there was a lot going on, it’s not like they don’t know we’re together.”

she rolled her eyes. “whatever.”

he got closer to her, his hand on her thigh. “‘m sorry.” he repeated. “really. it won’t happen again, i didn’t mean to upset you.” he moved his body down so he was looking up at her.

her eyes met his. “i know you didn’t.” she pursed her lips.

“i missed you.” he said, looking into her eyes intently.

“nice try.” she turned her face away from him.

“i did!” he said, sitting up, “was thinkin’ about you all daaay.”

she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, trying to hold onto the edge of her annoyance, but it was slipping fast. he saw it in the way her lips twitched, just slightly, like they couldn’t decide whether to stay firm or curve into a smile. she ran her tongue over her top teeth, her mouth remaining closed.

“yeah?” she asked, her voice cool but curious.

“yeah,” he nodded, edging even closer, bringing an arm over her shoulder.

she didn’t lean into him, but she didn’t refuse his arm around her. he took it as an okay to nuzzle his face in her neck, placing gentle kisses all around it.

he hummed into her neck before he spoke. “love you.”

“i know, chris.” she said simply. he laughed softly and continued trailing kisses up her neck.

after a moment he spoke. “tell me you love me too,” he mumbled into her skin. he moved his kisses up to her ear. “please,” he whispered, almost whimpering.

“i- mm.” she gasped as he nipped at her earlobe. “chris-” she tried to speak but he spoke again before she could.

“i need to hear you say it, baby.” he whined.

“love you too.” she said immediately. he repositioned himself, bringing their lips together, his hands moved to her thighs and waist, the gentleness quickly being abandoned.

chris moved closer so she was almost in his lap, their tongues intertwining, as her arms hung around his neck.

he pulled her fully onto his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips and ass, and his kisses becoming more urgent

“mmph-” she moaned into his mouth. “you want me, huh?” she breathed out between kisses. he let out a low, quiet, groan, moving his kisses back to her neck, sucking a bit.

“yes,” they were both breathless, but he promptly went back to working on her neck, his hands sliding under her shirt. “please. been wanting you all day..” he said, and her back moved against his hands, leaning into his touch.

she quirked a brow. “you haven’t even been here and you’ve been thinking about me?”

he nodded. “can’t stop,” he said against her neck. “ever.”

she moved her hands to his face, pulling him to look at her. “aren’t you feeling sweet,” she hooked her right arm over him again and brought their faces back together.

he smiled against her lips and deepend the kiss once again, rubbing his hands up and down her back. she brought her hand down to his dick and pressed him over his jeans.

he let out a soft gasp and leaned his head back a little, his breath catching in his throat. “oh fuck–” he managed to get out.

she chuckled at his reaction. he looked at her with wide eyes. “don’t laugh at me.” he whined, his breath quickening. as a response she continued pressing him, and he let out a low moan, only causing her to giggle again.

"stop– mm, stop laughing." he repeated, his body tense under her touch. every sound he made seemed to encourage her more, and he could see it in her eyes - she was enjoying this. as she continued her ministrations, pressing down harder. his head fell forward, resting on her shoulder as he groaned softly against her neck.

"i can't help it...," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. he could feel the heat radiating from her body, her breath soft and ticklish on his ear as she spoke. she continued to tease him, moving her hand excruciatingly slowly, and he could feel his self-control slipping.

just then, he suddenly picked her up, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for support. “chris!” the smirk on his face made her heart race.

“shh, baby, my brothers are asleep.” he covered her mouth with one hand as he carried her with the other, all the way to his room downstairs.

his door was open when they entered and he closed it with his foot, setting her down on the bed in an instant.

he leaned over her, his body caging her in. his hands roamed over her, tracing every curve with practiced ease.

he leaned down to her ear, his voice low and rough. "i want you. i need you. now." he was desperate. his hands moved back under her shirt, his touch leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

he brought his mouth to hers, the kiss filled with hunger and lust. his lips moved over hers, his tongue seeking entrance once again. she parted her lips for him, melting into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair.

he broke the kiss only to remove her shirt, his eyes roaming over her bare skin with unabashed admiration. “shit, baby.” he breathed out, as if it were his first time seeing her.

she could feel his gaze on her, hot and heavy. his words went straight to her core, her body reacting instantly. he made her feel desired and wanted, and she loved every second of it. she needed more. he knew it, and he gave it to her.

he moved his hand downwards, feeling her through her shorts, and when he pressed hard enough, he felt a subtle dampness. his eyes darkened at the discovery. she needed him just as badly as he needed her. he let out a sharp exhale, feeling the warmth under his fingers. "you're ready for me, huh?" he said, his voice thick with lust. he moved his hand a little, applying more pressure, his touch slow and teasing, knowing it would drive her crazy.

“mm. yes, please, chris.” she begged. how the tables had turned. unlike her, however, he immediately obliged, pulling down her shorts and unbuckling his own belt with urgency. he pulled his pants and boxers down in one movement, taking off his shirt a moment after.

he positioned himself over her, his body settling between her legs. she could feel his dick against her, and she shivered at the contact. he looked at her, his gaze burning, and she nodded, giving him permission. he pushed into her, slowly at first, and with a low moan. giving her time to adjust. but she was impatient, her body arching off the bed, desperate for him.

he gave in to her need, his pace quickening, his movements becoming more urgent. her moans were like music to his ears, fueling his own ecstasy. she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him even closer, her nails digging into his back. they were a sweaty, tangled mess.

this was what they both needed, the raw desire for each other. they moved together, bodies in perfect sync, their pleasure building with every passing second. her hands roamed over him, touching, grasping, claiming.

his lips found hers, their kiss desperate and sloppy. there was no time for words, only incoherent moans and strangled gasps. they were completely consumed by each other, everything else faded away.

he was getting close, and he wanted to bring her there with him. he moved faster, pushing deeper, angling his hips the way he knew drove her crazy. her body responded, so did her voice. her movements became more erratic, her voice pitching itself higher. he could feel her tightening around him, and he knew she was close too. his vision was starting to go hazy, his mind completely clouded by pleasure.

her muscles clenched around him, and he reached down between the two of them, his fingers finding her clit, his touch precise. her body trembled under him. she felt completely overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving her. his breathing was heavy and ragged, now he could tell he was just as close as he was. "oh god, don't stop," she gasped, her words coming out in labored pants.

he had one hand on the headboard, steadying himself, continuously rubbing her clit with the other as he pounded into her. he pulled her closer, their bodies as close as they could possibly be. her moans became louder and louder, she moved her hips in sync with his, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. she wanted all of him, and he was giving her everything. her hands found their way to his face, her lips meeting his in a desperate kiss. the words that escaped her were incoherent, a mix of his name and pleas for more.

"'m close, 'm so close, chris." she spoke through her moans.

he could hear the edge to her voice, and he let out a guttural moan, his head falling forward, "me too, baby-- ah--" he panted, his movements growing sloppy. he could feel the tension coiled deep within them both, ready to snap at any moment.

her back arched off the bed, and he could see the sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. he was losing control, he could feel her walls clenching around him, and he knew it couldn’t be more than a few seconds before they both came undone.

"ah- fuck– come with me, baby-" he gasped out. the pressure built to a breaking point, ready to crash over them. “please, let go with me," he whispered, his words thick with need.

yes, it was what he said, but god, the way he said it. it was all she needed. it pushed her over the edge. she could feel it. the wave of pleasure cresting, about to crash down over her. she gasped out his name, her body tensing as it overcame her.

he could feel her clenching around him, her body shaking with release, and it was his undoing. the sight of her, lost in ecstasy, tipped him over the edge. he groaned, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. he pulled out and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

their bodies trembled in the aftermath. they lay there for a moment, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their hearts pounding in unison. he lifted his head, looking down at her, a slight smirk on his face.

"you're so fuckin’ pretty, you know that?" he said softly, his thumb tracing over her flushed cheek. his touch was gentle, a contrast to the intensity they had just shared. she looked up at him, almost not hearing him.

she said nothing, only giggled. she leaned into him, her laughter fading into a quiet sigh. he leaned to kiss her again, slower this time, and she just curled closer, her fingers resting lightly on his chest. he wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was something fragile.

eventually, the room went quiet, their breaths slowed. somewhere between the warmth, they both drifted off, tangled up in each other.

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

/ an / if u couldn't tell this was not proofread and was written over the course of a few days . also it's currently one am as i'm posting this . hope u liked it regardless

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onlyheluvsme · 23 hours ago

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⇢ ˗ˏˋshe's got a boyfriend anyway࿐ྂ

˗ˏˋellie angst!!´ˎ˗in which ellie is in love with her best friend — mdni, lowercase intend, f!reader, slight angst, mentions of: comphet, b*yfriends, m*n, sad pining ellie*ೃ༄ pls leave reqs!!

ellie had met you when she joined her school’s astronomy club. with the group only having two girls, her and you being both of them becoming friends was quick.

soon enough she was bringing you by after school, first stopping by for five minutes, then it became ten, then twenty, until you had stayed for dinner completely. her dad absolutely adored you, finding your constant care and worry for her adorable.

what you never realized in your quickly blossoming friendship was that ellie didn’t see you as a friend. from the moment you walked in late to that astronomy meeting with rain soaked hair and a complaint of a careless driver and a puddle, she was hooked.

you sat next to her that day, introducing yourself with the brightest and sweetest smile she had ever seen. she stammered and almost forgot to introduce herself back to you, getting caught in the movement of your soft lips.

you were the drug she needed to fall asleep every night; not being able to close her eyes till your “gnite <3” came through. ellie went through her day wondering what you were thinking, what you were seeing, how you felt. it was impossible to keep you from the forefront of her mind.

yet it didn’t matter, you weren’t and would never be hers.

“so, wheres this kid takin’ you again?” joel asked you, passing the mashed potatoes to ellie who had deflated at the words. jesse, your boyfriend, was taking you away for the weekend.

ellie kept her eyes down onto her plate, suddenly with a lost appetite.

“oh! jesses taking me to santa barbara” you smile at joel, ellie cant help but roll her eyes into her dish.

dinner continued, you and joel carrying most of the conversation, ellie only chiming in when addressed. she was first to stand and grab the plates, chair screeching against the wood,

“should probably get you home soon” she said shortly, your eyebrows raised as you helped her pick up the leftover food from the table.

joel caught the change in ellie long before you did, the way her entire being almost shut down at the sound of his name. he kept quiet though, knowing that asking her if she was alright would only lead to red cheeks and an annoyed, ‘yes! shut up!’.

therefore he stayed quiet, letting the two of you work it out yourselves, watching you both from the sink.

after clearing off the table with ellie, where she did not look at you once, you grabbed your school bag and she took her keys,

“bye joel! see you soon! thanks for dinner!” you call from the door, ellie on your feet.

“bye kiddo! be safe!” he calls, ellie grumbles under her breath, lightly pushing you out the door, locking it behind her.

the two of you walk to her pick up, slight tension evident in the air. you throw a quick glance in her direction, seeing her face in a slight frown.

she opens the passenger door, stepping back to give you room. with your bag slung over your shoulder you slip past her and plop into the seat.

before she closes the door you stick your hand out,

“wait” you say, making her pause her movements on hand on the door, the other by her side. she stares up at you slightly shocked, slightly apprehensive.

“have i-have i done something?” you ask nervously, eyes slowly starting to glisten. the slight crack in your voice, the light tears beginning to form on your waterline, the sweet face you give her, ellie breaks.

“fuck” she says to herself, all sense of anger leaving her body at the sight of your anxiety. it was so fucking impossible to stay mad at you. ellie steps into the passenger side, hands finding yours,

“no! fuck- sorry! you didn’t do anything” she brushes her fingers against your cheek, quickly pulling them away when she remembers herself. that you’re not hers to touch.

“i’m just tired from today,” she settles on, not revealing the true reason for her behavior. you just stared at her, knowing her well enough to know she was lying.

“i promise” she says, close to a whisper as she stares back at you, capturing every inch of your face knowing she would be aching to see it all weekend and won’t be able to.

“okay” you relent, knowing she won’t tell you, and hoping she feels better by the time your back. you give her a reassuring smile and she nods, pulling back but pausing to give you an odd look before buckling your seatbelt and closing your door.

you huff out a breath as she rounds the car and enters from the drivers side. ellie throws you a glance as she settles into her seat, sticking the key in the ignition.

even though she knew she wouldn’t have you this weekend, she felt grateful for these moments. you in her car, currently wearing her sweater, sneakered feet on her dash. she liked to pretend during moments like these that you were a couple, casually and proudly living side by side.

she put the car in drive, pulling out of her driveway and started to your house. ellie debated at first, if she should bring your trip up. she knew the topic would bother her but she couldn’t help her curiosity, she always wanted to know what you were doing.

the drive was silent for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the low playing music on the radio until she finally gained the courage to break the silence,

“so uh, is he picking you up tonight or tomorrow” ellie asks. you look over at her, the sight almost too much for a second. ellie’s thighs spread comfortably, tattooed hand casually holding the wheel, a loose t-shirt with the sleeves and most of the sides cut off with only a sports bra underneath. you look away quickly, you shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

“uh.. tonight actually” you get out, staring at the road ahead of you. ellie flicks her eyes over to you and back to the road multiple times, she was hoping it was tomorrow, needing one more night of knowing you’re near.

theres a split second where ellie debates making a u-turn back to her house, debating if she should just take off from jackson with you. fuck this is making me crazy.

“great” she says between gritted teeth and holds a angry shake of her head back. ellie has no reason to be angry, you had him had been together long before she met you. she had no right to stake any claim on you, and yet from the moment she woke up to the second she went to sleep you were the most precious person in her life.

“yeah, yeah” you utter, frowning as you watch your block approach. you didn’t want to leave yet, still wanting to spend time with her.

ellie slowed onto your block and pulled in front of your house. neither of you moved, just wanting a few more minutes. you broke the silence together,

“i should probably get inside”

“don’t go”

you let out sad sigh, eyes squeezing shut. ellie looked over nervously,

“what- uh- what if something happens and he-” ellie stammers out, turning in her seat to face you. your tense shoulders stay foward, scared you might cave if you looked at her. you have a boyfriend goddamit.

your parents would kill you, maybe throw you to the curb if you walked in with her. so you kept your eyes forward,

“i’ll see you on monday el” you rasp, finally turning to look at her and almost breaking at the sight of her crushed face.

you lean in and place a kiss on her cheek, it shouldn’t be special since you did it every time you said bye to her. this time however felt different as you pulled back and found her eyes closed, a blissful look on her face.

“yeah i’ll see you…” ellie says forcing her voice not to shake from disappointment. from the fear she may never get to kiss and hold and love the one person who makes her heart fucking stop. her eyes remain closed as she soaks in the feel of where your lips were pressed.

that is until she feels soft fingers gliding against her lips and she is more fearful to open her eyes than sad. you only allow yourself a second, a millisecond to gloss your pointer and middle finger against the plush of her pink lips. just one touch and you jumped out of the car like a mad woman. feet quickly taking you up the front porch stairs and through the door before ellie could fully open her eyes again.

ellie’s eyes open to find an empty car, barely having registered the slam of the passenger door and your hasty departure. her fingers found her lips, attempting to mimic the feel of your fingers but hers felt more calloused where yours were soft. not enough.

her head turns to your closed front door, fingers still lightly against her lips,

“be safe, my girl” she says to the door, knowing shes still going to text you later to be safe. ellie put the car back into park after a minute of watching your pacing silhouette through the curtain.

she turns the music off completely, not in the mood for anything for the rest of the weekend. an ugly pit settled into her stomach and she knew it wouldn’t relent till you were back on monday.

ellie drove home that night quickly swiping the tears from her eyes before they could fall. all she could think about was that you would be back, that she would go back to her pretend moments with you tucked into her side. he couldn’t take those from her too.

[ellie masterlist]

#luluwrites ✧₊⁺#luluwritesellie⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#ellie williams angst #ellie angst #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #e

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firelilyfox · 2 days ago

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In your skin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: After a mission the two of you have to share a room & at first Bucky gets really mad about it but ... he means well.

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: mention of trauma, weapons, sharing a bed, fluff, heart to heart talk, real sad Bucky

Note: english isn't my mother tongue so sorry in advance :)

____________________________________

It got late real fast after the successful mission in Nairobi.

The African heat gave way to the cool night, making it way more pleasant to find some sleep soon. Part of the Thunderbolts found shelter in a luxury hotel in the middle of the lively city, but there were almost fully booked so the only two rooms left had to be evenly shared. Yelena, Alexei, Bucky and me.

„I will not let my daughter sleep in a room with another man“, Alexei barked. „No offense Winter Soldier, I have deeply respect for you. But my daughter will be protected from you manly charme by myself.“ His strong russian accent marking the importance of his protectiveness about Yelena.

„Alexei I’m a grown woman and can protect myself from stupid men“ Yelena says unimpressed. The four of us were standing in the empty hallway, on each side a closed door and fitting keycards in my hands. I look at them and then up at Bucky. He was easily two heads taller than me with a strong disapproval look on his face, but he kept quiet. He was always the quiet one of the group (besides one or two snarky comments from time to time). „You can sleep with him then if you want“, Yelena adds.

„Don’t be ridiculous. I will not let you out of my sight with this nasty wound. You are my daughter and I will protect-…“ but Alexei couldn’t finish the sentence because Yelena shut his mouth with her own hand.

„Got it old man. So its the two of us and the two of you then.“ She pointed at me and at Bucky afterwards. I opened my mouth for approval but got interrupted immediately.

„No fucking way“, Bucky grumbles.

Okay. Ouch. That was unnecessary and a bit rude.

Even the farther-daughter duo frowned in confusion. It was true that Bucky and had a …complicated way of acting around each other for the last couple of months. At first I thought we would be good co-workers. He always kept an eye out for me when I started to train with the Thunderbolts because I didn’t knew my way around and had a tendency to stumble into very unfortunate situations. For example that one time in Norway … ugh I rather not think about that. Nonetheless with time passing by he had become more like … a friend I think. Bucky was always there if I needed him - but never too close. Even a little part of me, that I desperately try to suffocate, wants him to be just … closer sometimes.

„Do I get to tell my opinion in this?“ I ask a bit annoyed by his sudden rudeness. „I have no problem to stay with you in a room.“ He shoots me a deadly look but that doesn’t scare me off. Not the tiniest bit. No clue what his problem his, but I won’t let him push me away like that. If he has something to say, then he can tell me whilst sharing a god damn room.

„Great! Its settled then. You two get to - ...“

„This isn’t an option“, Bucky interrupts Alexei again and this time he almost exploded. His voice had a much deeper and darker ring to it now. But it didn’t made me flinch. It made me mad.

„Why does everybody interrupts Alexei all the ti-…“

„Well I don’t care. Here.“ I handed Yelena and her father one keycard and kept the other one for Bucky and myself. „I’m done with this conversation. Get in here.“ I tell him and opened the door with a soft clicking sound.

„Have a pleasant night“, Yelena chuckles and disappeared with Alexei in the room across the hallway. Bucky stands still as a stone without any muscle moving. My rage was overflood by hurt. Was it really that awful to share a room with me?

„I have no idea why its such a problem for you to stay in a room with me. If it’s because I am a woman then I can assure you it’s more than common in this century for a man and a woman to …“

„It’s not because of that. I shared a room with a woman before.“ He says and stepped around me into the hotel room. Paying close attention to our arms not touching by accident.

I closed the door behind me. „Well good for you I guess.“ A little stab of jealousy hit me. „But if it aint that then why -…“

„We should get some sleep.“ And just like that there was another sentence that won’t be finished this evening. Great fucking fun.

We got changed into our nightgowns and by that i mean that Bucky was still wearing his black shirt and boxer. While i got rid of almost every piece of clothing. In my underwear and a simple tanktop I sat down on the bed beside him. His metal arm flexing a few times he looked lost in thoughts.

„How does it feel?“ I ask before I could stop myself.

He frowns. „What do you mean?“

„I mean do you really feel everything? Like heat when you burn yourself while cooking or the fabric of a blanket?“ No clue why I was bubbling with stupid questions like that out of the blue. Might be the sight of him in boxers that fried my brain a little bit. I’m thankful he isn’t a mindreader.

A soft smile lays down on his lips. The first since we entered this room. „Yeah. In Wakanda they have some very advanced techniques and great minds who work on stuff like that. I have not the slightest idea how this works.“ He holds his metal hand with the palm up and looks at me. „But it works.“

Without any thoughts I lay my hand in his. I expected the metal to be cold and hard. But somehow it felt warm and … real. Like it is more than just a piece of dead materiel. I moved my fingers along the palm and up to his wrist. It was formed exactly like his other arm. Strong and even the muscles were mirrored to the tiniest detail. Something comes over me and out of pure curiosity my other hand finds his real arm to compare the two of them.

For a moment Bucky stayed completely still. He was not moving at all and I doubt that he was even breathing normal anymore. „Does it feel the same?“

He cleared his throat. „No.“

„What’s the difference?“ I look up and almost drown in his blue eyes. His face must’ve come closer. Or did I move in his direction? I don’t recall. All I know is that his nose was only inches away from mine, wich means that his lips were…

„You should get some sleep. Now.“ Bucky rumbles with a husky voice. Within a second he stood up from the bed and moved to the other side of the room.

There it was. The hurt from before hits me like a truck.

„You really find me that repulsive?“

He opened his mouth. Stopped. Closed it and opened it again. All without saying a single word. Understood. „Will you come back?“ I ask instead.

He has one hand on the doorknob. „Yes. When you are asleep.“

And so I did. I cried myself into a dreamless sleep. Drowning in my own self-pity because the guy I like would rather run away in the middle of the night, than share a bed with me.

A bright crack tore me out of my slumber and I was wide awake in the matter of seconds. But not because of the thunderstorm outside the window. My fingers were curled around something cold and hard. The silhouette of Bucky was calmly sleeping beside me. My senses knew the feeling of this heavy metal and it wasn’t the arm I felt earlier tonight.

It was a gun.

A fucking gun in my hand.

What?

„Bucky?“, I whisper. „Bucky wake up!“ My voice pitched high, wich made him wake up instantly.

„What is it? What happened?“ He asks breathlessly, eyes wide in shock, head snapping from side to side to make out any danger. But the only thing what would fall in that category appeared magically in my hand while I was asleep.

I hold the gun up and waved it slightly. „Hello? Why do i have your gun in my hand?“

„Why are you so certain it’s mine, doll?“ His eyes narrow. I try to pull myself together because I didn’t expect him to call me by his pet name for me. He only used it a couple of times before and only when we were alone.

„Oh please Bucky! I know your guns by heart. So why is it in this god damn bed?“ I shriek.

He broke the eye contact and shuffled himself into a sitting position. The thin blanket that we both shared shifted down to his lap. Bucky leaned his back against the headboard and let out a deep sigh. „Just in case.“

„I beg you pardon?“

„Just in case you need it.“ He still has his eyes closed but I could hear in his voice that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

„James Buchanan Barnes you better cut that shitshow and tell me why you put that thing in my hand“, I say as I sit up, not caring that the blanket completely vanished from my body.

Bucky turned to finally look at me. His expression were serious at first, but then his eyes dart down to my naked legs and at the waistband of my top that slipped up a bit, showing a small gap of my hips and stomach. I could swear to see his throat move as if he had to swallow … hard. And his face transformed from serious to something much more intense. Was it longing or am I now completely loosing my mind?

„You are the only person I allow to call me like that“, he says with a tight voice.

„Cut the crap. Now.“

Bucky sighs again. „Fuck. Okay fine. The gun is for emergency. In case you have to take me out.“

My heart stops beating for a painfully moment. With widened eyes I look at him. He sits there looking so broken, so serious about what he just confessed to me. His sad sad blue eyes studying me, waiting for a response. I know what his reasons are. He has terrible nightmares. Bad ones from his past and even darker ones made from his guilt.

„The fuck I will.“ With two quick moves I dissemble the gun in its individual parts. Bucky watches me with disbelieve in his eyes. „I refuse to let you think I would ever do that.“

„Maybe you will not have a choice when it becomes bad!“ He tries to grab the metal pieces but I throw them away without a second thought. „When the Winter Soldier takes over I can’t guarantee for anything. He could do …“

„I don’t give a shit!“ I bark. „You would never hurt me. I know that in my bones.“

He lets his hand sink and land on my knee. It needs a lot of self control to not follow it with my eyes. „You’re right. I would never. But he could.“

I lean forward, just a little to make my point clear. „I trust you.“

„You shouldn’t.“ His voice was nothing more than a whisper. I could feel it brushing over my cheeks. „I’m a threat.“

I cock my head to the side. „Is that the reason why you didn’t want to share a room with me? Because you were scared that you might attack me in your sleep?“

He nods. And my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. His hair falls in strains into his face making him look even more exhausted than ever. I've come to thinking about the fact that his mind had to be constantly in stay alert mode.

„Do you ever let yourself catch a break, Bucky?“

At first he stays completely still. Then a deep, tired sigh. And when he finally looks up to answer he da the saddest smile on his face that I’ve ever laid eyes on. „I don’t think so, doll. Can’t remember.“

I reach forward to place my palm above his heart. It beats slow but a little uneven - as if my touch had an effect on him too. „You deserve to feel safe for at least one night. You deserve so much more than that.“ I leaned in his direction, let my body sink against his and gave him the chance to slowly get used to so much skin to skin contact. But he didn’t hesitate as I thought he would do. Instead Bucky pulled me so close that I imagined to morph fully into him. Melt together and finally feel complete.

His metal arm laid wrapped around me and gave me the support I needed. His other hand placed at the back of my head - fingers tangled up into my hair. I feel his body relax beneath me and a little smile appeared on my lips.

„Nothing I could do would ever made me deserve you, doll.“ His words rushed my system like a big tidal wave and i shook my head up from his chest to look at him.

„You don’t have to do anything. Bucky you already own my heart. And you truly deserve it.“

He smiled softly. I could feel his hand on my head pulling me closer up to him. I obey happily. „I will take good care of it, doll. I promise to be worthy for you.“

„I know because you already are.“

Bucky kissed me. His lips were touching mine with such softness I almost cried. Hands so tender and carefully holding me while his mouth claiming my whole consciousness. I leaned into him to feel as much of him as I could. He deepened the kiss and I let out a sigh of relief. I swear I could feel him smile against my lips.

I know I will never get tired of this. Ever.

#fluff #marvel #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #deep talk #mcu fandom #thunderbolts*#ptsd #mental illness #sharing a bed #love confessions #love #night talks #angst

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uhhlifeig · 2 days ago

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Society - May 13 - word count: 355 - @wolfstarmicrofic - cw: mentions of walburga's a+ parenting

“Sirius, how dare you?” Remus asked, storming into the dorm.

Sirius was already sitting on one of the beds, not daring to meet his eyes. For some reason, that action- or rather, lack of action- made the fire rising in Remus’s sternum grow brighter, hotter.

“Answer me,” he hissed. “What the fuck made you think that it was a good idea to tell Snape where I was? Merlin, what were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, Remus.”

“Like that’s going to do anything. Sorry doesn’t fix this, Sirius. I trusted you. I placed my life and my future into your hands, and you shattered it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, Sirius.” Remus ran a hand through his hair, the burning fury in his mind slowing down a bit. “I don’t know who the fuck society told you you could be, but this certainly isn’t it. What made you do it?”

Silence.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sirius, answer me,” he snapped, anger flaring up again- except this time, it was steel-cold. “Is this what you do all day at home, too? Ignore your mother until her only choice is to get physical?”

Sirius stiffened.

He’s playing the victim, a small and vengeful voice in the back of his mind whispered. Make him stop. He’s the one who put himself in this situation.

“What, did I strike a nerve? Can’t handle a telling-off for what you did last night, is it? Why is it that when you hurt me, I just need to suffer, then? Like a fucking animal in a cage, hm? How fucking selfish and conceited are you, Sirius?”

Still no response.

Double down, the voice said. You need to put him in his place.

“Merlin, I hope you realize that you’re just like them. You think you’re so much better than everyone, huh? Well, news flash: I’d rather die than become someone like you. We’re fucking done. I don’t want to be associated with you.”

Remus knew he would regret his words later, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.

He stormed out of the room, ignoring the stifled sobs coming from his now ex-boyfriend.

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multific · 2 days ago

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A Hidden Gem

Dimitri Kraminoff x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy, angst

Summary: You left him, you ran away. But he found you, and he needs answers.

"Why? I thought you were different. You left me... just like my brother did."

His voice was low, almost trembling, as if saying the words physically hurt. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not after everything. For eleven long months, you had avoided him like your life depended on it.

Because it did.

And now, after all that time, there he was, Dimitri. Sitting across from you in his lavish private club, the one place you swore you’d never set foot in again.

The chandelier above him cast a light on his face, but there was nothing warm in his expression.

Only confusion. Hurt. And Anger.

You hadn’t come here willingly. He’d had you taken.

Pulled from your quiet life and thrown back into his orbit as if gravity had never stopped pulling.

Now he stared at you, elbows on the table, as if he could reach through the silence and shake the truth from your bones.

"Why?" he asked again, quieter this time. His voice cracked. It cut through you deeper than a scream ever could.

You swallowed hard. “I had my reason.”

He scoffed, leaning closer. “I know you still love me. I see it in your eyes. So what could possibly explain this?”

“I can’t-” You flinched as his fist came down on the table with a heavy thud. The glass beside him rattled and nearly tipped.

“Bullshit,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Did you find someone? Someone better than me? Taller? Stronger?”

“No,” you said instantly. Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried.

He stared at you, jaw clenched. “Then why?”

The shout echoed through the room like a gunshot. You squeezed your eyes shut, your hands trembling in your lap.

And then you said it, the truth you had held inside for nearly a year.

“Because I was scared,” you whispered, your voice cracking, “and pregnant.”

The words broke free from your chest like chains snapping loose.

You exhaled shakily, eyes cast down at your feet as hot tears welled behind your lashes. “I was terrified of your father.”

You looked up and met his stunned gaze.

“It broke me to leave you, Dimi. But I had to. You know how much he hated me. You know what he was capable of. If he found out...”

His eyes were wide, his lips parted in stunned silence.

“He told me,” you continued, “on your birthday. He looked me dead in the eye and said if I ever got pregnant, he’d kill the baby. And me. He meant it, Dimi.”

He swallowed hard, his face pale. “Why didn’t you tell me he threatened you?”

“You know why. He was always watching. Always listening. I couldn’t risk it. So I ran. I ran like a coward. And I’m sorry.”

You rose from your chair, the instinct to flee still buried deep inside you. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you cold.

“He’s dead, you know.”

You froze.

“I took over the business. My father’s gone. Buried. He can never hurt you again.”

You turned slowly, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.

“How?” you asked quietly.

“Hunting accident,” he said, but there was a flicker in his expression. “Though... I know my brother had something to do with it.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “So… it’s really over?”

“It’s over. He’s gone. And I want you to come back to me. I’ll protect you. Both of you.”

He stepped toward you, his chest rising and falling quickly. When he got close, you instinctively placed your hands on him, not to push him away, just to stop him, to feel him.

Your palms rested on his chest, and he didn’t move. Just waited.

Your eyes searched his face. “Is he really. dead?”

Dimitri nodded once. You blinked back more tears. “Our son… his name is Mikhail. I call him Misha.”

A breath hitched in his throat.

“He’s two months old. A kind woman in my building watches him while I work.” You looked over your shoulder, instinctively checking the door. “I can bring him to you. If you want.”

His hands gently closed over yours, lifting them from his chest and holding them between you.

“You’re so beautiful, I missed you every damn day.”

“I’m so sorry.”

The tears you’d held back finally slipped free, but he pulled you in before they could fall far. His arms wrapped around you like he was scared to let go again. His lips met yours, soft, slow, reverent. Like a prayer.

And just like that, you were lost in him again.

How could you have ever left?

“I’ll get a car,” he murmured. “Let’s go get our son. I want us to go home. All three of us.”

You nodded against his chest. “I need to pack his things. The apartment isn’t much.”

“I don’t care. I’m going with you.”

“You’re not going to like it,” you warned gently.

You were right.

---

The building stood in stark contrast to Dimitri’s world, narrow halls, peeling paint, a crooked stairwell.

He stood frozen at the entrance, his sharp suit glaring against the faded wallpaper.

You didn’t wait.

You hurried upstairs, heart racing, you knocked on your neighbour’s door.

“I brought someone to meet you,” you whispered to Misha as you lifted him from the woman’s arms. His little giggle filled the air and almost brought you to your knees. “Your father,” you told him, nuzzling his soft cheek.

When Dimitri entered the apartment, his expression twisted, half shock, half sorrow.

“Misha,” you said, speaking in that soft, lilting tone only babies could bring out of you. “Look who it is.”

He was so tiny. But there was no mistaking it, he looked just like his father.

“My son,” Dimitri breathed as you placed the baby into his arms.

He held him so carefully, reverently, like he was cradling something holy.

“I promise you,” he said softly, “I will be so much better than the man who raised me.”

You believed him.

---

Later, back at Dimitri’s home, your new home, you laid Misha down in the guest bed, surrounded by soft pillows.

“We’ll decorate a room for him,” Dimitri said, already pulling his phone out to make arrangements. “He’ll have everything he needs.”

“Thank you, Dimi,” you whispered, heart full.

When you finally collapsed into bed, he joined you, laying down close.

“He usually wakes up once to eat,” you murmured, already drifting.

“I’ll get up for him,” he said.

You smiled with your eyes closed. “And feed him with what, exactly?”

The silence that followed made you chuckle.

You didn’t hear him laugh, but you felt his arm wrap around you.

---

Dimitri couldn’t sleep.

He lay there for a long while, watching you. Listening to the soft rise and fall of your breath. Then, quietly, he slipped from the bed and padded to the guest room.

He knelt beside the bed where Misha lay fast asleep, his little chest rising and falling.

“You look just like me,” Dimitri whispered, brushing a finger along his son’s cheek. It was impossibly soft.

His throat tightened.

“I understand your mother now. I would’ve ran, too.”

He stayed there, watching Misha sleep for a long time. And then, finally, he returned to bed. To you.

He pulled you close, burying his face in your shoulder as sleep finally took him.

For the first time in a long time, his heart felt whole.

A/N: This is a rewritten piece of Full Again I didn't like the original story as much so I decided to change it up a little and make it more interesting.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

#x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #kraven movie #kraven x you #kraven dimitri x reader #dimitri kravinoff #dimitri kravinoff x reader #dimitri kravinoff imagine #dimitri kravinoff imagines #dimitri kravinoff fanfic #dimitri kravinoff fanfiction #fred hechinger x reader #fred hechinger x you #fred hechinger imagine #fred hechinger fanfic #fred hechinger character

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daxisyzz · 6 hours ago

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Hey there! Love your work and would love to submit a request if that’s alright. I have an idea for a Bucky x reader one shot inspired by his look in Thunderbolts. I love his longer hair coming back, but imagine Bucky having the reader put in hair extensions in his hair so he can have really long hair again instead of waiting for it to grow out? If this idea inspires you to write then I’m so glad but if not don’t feel pressured to write anything. Hope you’re well! :)

heyyy I love this idea!! Sorry for replying late. Here's your little fic. Hope you have a great day<3

Hair Me Out…

Summary: Bucky didn't think he'd miss his long hair — until he sees you casually ordering hair extensions for yourself. Now he needs them too... and you're the poor soul tasked with making it happen. Along the way, he finds a small part of himself that he'd forgotten he still loved.

Word count: 1.1k+

Setting: pre-thunderbolts*, post-tfatws.

Bucky wasn’t even trying to snoop.

Really, he wasn’t.

He was lying across your bed, big and lazy, arms folded behind his head as he listened to you tap away at your laptop, a content little hum coming from your side of the room. Every so often, you’d mutter to yourself or click your tongue in frustration, but otherwise, you were blissfully unaware of his not-so-subtle staring.

“What’re you doing?” he finally asked, lifting his head to look at you.

“Shopping,” you said, clicking a few more times. “Hair stuff. Some skincare junk. You know essentials.”

He hummed, about to close his eyes again, when something bright and silky caught his eye.

You were browsing a site that sold hair extensions — gorgeous, long, flowing locks in every shade imaginable.

Bucky blinked, sitting up a little straighter.

“Wait. Is that for you?” he asked, sounding more interested than he probably should’ve.

You nodded. “Yeah. I wanna try longer hair without committing to, like, years of growing it out.”

He kept staring. At the screen. At you. At the screen again.

Something deep inside him — something he thought he’d buried — stirred.

His own hand went to the ends of his current hair, brushing it lightly. It had been growing out again after a few trims and missions that had demanded ‘uniform standards.’ It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t short.

But it wasn’t his long hair, either.

He missed it.

Missed the way it used to fall in his face, missed the wildness of it, the way it made him feel a little less... polished. Less fake. More himself. More of someone he'd become after losing everything.

“...Can you get me some, too?” he blurted, before he could think better of it.

You paused, hands frozen over your keyboard. “...What?”

He scooted closer, earnestness written all over his stupidly handsome face. “Extensions. Get some for me.”

You turned to stare at him fully, one eyebrow raised. “Bucky. Babe. Love of my life. You are a literal enhanced super soldier and you’re telling me you can’t wait for your hair to grow?”

He pouted actually pouted and tugged lightly at the ends of his hair. “But you’re gonna have long hair and I’m gonna look like a half-baked chia pet.”

You snorted so hard it startled him.

“A chia pet?” you repeated, wheezing.

“A sad one,” he said gravely. “One that needs love.”

You were half-crying, half-laughing now, clutching your stomach. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grabbing your hands in both of his big ones, squeezing them like he was proposing marriage. “Doll. I’ll do anything. Just order some for me, too.”

"You'll do anything?" you teased, still wiping tears from your eyes.

"I'll be your personal assistant for a week. I'll clean the kitchen. I'll even let you pick the next five movies we watch. Even if they suck."

You shook your head, grinning like a fool. "Alright, alright, I'll do it. Only because you look so cute."

Bucky whooped and immediately pulled you into his lap, hugging you tight enough to make you squeak. "You're the best. Seriously. I'm gonna look so good."

"You’re gonna look like a prince," you said dryly.

"Prepare to have Sam roast you into oblivion."

"I don’t even care," Bucky said, burying his face in your shoulder. "I want my hair back."

Few Days Later

Bucky was sitting on the floor in front of you, legs crossed, a towel thrown around his shoulders like a cape. You carefully parted his hair, sectioning it and clipping in the silky extensions you had color-matched for him.

He was so still, so obedient, it made you grin.

"You’re a good client," you teased.

"Yeah, well," he said, glancing at you over his shoulder with a smirk. "I gotta be. My stylist’s got very delicate hands."

You rolled your eyes fondly and snapped another clip into place.

As you worked, you caught him sneaking peeks at himself in the mirror watching the longer pieces blend into his real hair and his smile was so genuine, so open, it almost hurt.

By the time you finished, Bucky looked like he'd stepped straight out of 2014 — but softer, happier.

You admired him from a few steps back, a fond warmth blooming in your chest. "You look perfect, Buck."

He preened a little, flipping a lock of hair over his shoulder. "Damn right."

Just then, the door creaked open.

Sam stuck his head in, mouth already open to say something — and froze.

The look of pure, stunned silence on Sam's face was priceless.

You bit your lip hard to hold back a laugh.

"...No," Sam finally said, deadpan. "No. Absolutely not."

Bucky grinned, pure menace. "Hey, bird boy. You like the new look?"

Sam just shook his head slowly. "You look like a dude who lives in a cave and plays the flute for forest animals."

Bucky tossed his newly long hair dramatically. "Jealousy’s an ugly color on you, Wilson."

"I'm sending this to Torres," Sam said immediately, pulling out his phone.

"Traitor!" Bucky shouted, lunging for him.

You laughed so hard you had to sit down, watching Bucky chase Sam down the hall, towel flying like a cape behind him, hair streaming.

After the chaos died down, you found Bucky sitting in front of the bedroom mirror again, just quietly looking at himself.

Not in the playful way from earlier.

Softer. Sadder.

But not bad.

You walked over slowly and wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smiled faintly at your reflection.

"You okay, Buck?"

He nodded, his hand coming up to tangle lightly with yours.

"Just... stupid," he said quietly. "Looking at myself like this."

"Not stupid," you murmured.

He shrugged a little. "It reminds me of... when I wasn’t doing so good. Long hair, no plan, no peace. I hated that version of me for a long time."

You pressed a kiss to his temple, squeezing him tighter. "He was doing the best he could. He survived. And he deserved love, too."

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed under your hands, the tension easing out of him slowly.

He met your eyes in the mirror and the look he gave you was pure devotion.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe he did."

You leaned your forehead against his. "Definitely did. Definitely does."

For a moment, you both just stayed there him, you, the soft lamp light, the long, wild hair breathing together, existing without judgment.

And when Bucky finally smiled, really smiled

it was brighter than any version of himself he'd ever worn.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #james buchanan barnes

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himasgod · 22 hours ago

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Can I request the first years finding out that their S/O is touch-aversed? She still loves them, she's just uncomfortable with being touched by other people.

FIRST YEARS X READER

Where you are touch-aversed

How would guys react if they tried physical contact with you, and you told them you are not comfortable with physical contact?

Epel had always felt like people underestimated him.

Too soft, too cute, too “girlish”—words that stung worse than a hex.

So when he started dating you, he was determined to prove he could be a strong n reliable partner. Not clingy. Not needy. Just dependable.

Except he also kind of wanted to hold your hand.

The idea kept floating in his mind. Every time you smiled at him like he’d just handed you the moon, every time you tucked your head when you laughed—it made him want to hold you close, just a little.

So one afternoon, after sneaking off to an apple orchard near Ramshackle, he reached for your hand as you stood beneath a tree. You gently stepped aside, not rude, just… careful. And Epel paused, hand mid-air.

“Ah… sorry. Did I mess up?”

“No. I just... don’t like being touched. Not really by anyone. It’s not about you.”

Epel blinked, lowering his hand slowly. He rubbed his neck, thinking.

“I see. That’s alright.”

You tilted your head. “Really?”

“‘Course. Granny always said that love ain’t about what you take—it’s what you give without expectin’ nothin’ back,” he said, voice a little quieter than usual.

You smiled, eyes a little wide.

Epel picked up a fallen apple and tossed it into his hand, smirking faintly. “I don’t need to touch you to know you care. You bein’ here with me says enough.”

He offered you the apple instead of his hand. You took it.

“Maybe someday, you’ll let me hold your hand. But if not, no big deal. I’ll just find other ways to make you feel special. Like teachin’ you how to climb trees or sneakin’ out with me for pie.”

You leaned into his shoulder—not quite touching, but close enough to count.

Epel flushed. “Whoa, okay, that’s kinda intimate for you, huh?”

You laughed. “I’m trying.”

He grinned, fiercely proud.

“You’re doin’ great. I’ll go your pace, always.”

Sebek prided himself on being the most dutiful boyfriend anyone could have. Protective, watchful, vocal about his admiration (often too vocal).

But subtlety? That wasn’t exactly his strongest suit.

So when you gently pulled away the first time he tried to offer his arm during a stroll around Diasomnia, he froze like someone had cast spell on him.

“You… recoiled?” he asked, stunned.

You winced.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just... not good with being touched. It makes me uncomfortable.”

Sebek looked like he’d been slapped with a wet fish.

“You mean to say you dislike physical closeness in general? Even from me?”

“Yes. But I still like you, Sebek. I just... express affection differently.”

He went quiet for once, lips parting and closing again like he didn’t know how to argue with something so… personal.

Then, after a long pause, he straightened his spine.

“Very well. If this is your nature, then I shall honor it to the fullest extent! Affection does not solely rely on touch!”

He cleared his throat, raising a finger dramatically.

“I shall serenade you with sonnets of adoration instead!”

You stared.

“Sonnets?”

“Yes! Glorious declarations of loyalty, recited from a safe distance!” he beamed.

You snorted, unable to help yourself.

“That’s... actually kind of sweet.”

“Of course it is,” he huffed proudly. “I am no crude brute. I am capable of restraint and—above all—respect.”

From that day forward, Sebek began to show his love with grand words, acts of service, and excessive praise.

He’d always ask permission before getting close, and though his voice was loud, his intentions were always gentle.

Jack wasn’t one for public displays of affection anyway. He liked his space, liked his quiet.

But when he started dating you, he found himself wondering what it’d be like to hold you—just once. Maybe sling his arm around your waist walkin side by side, something simple.

The first time he brushed your fingers and saw you recoil slightly, he froze mid-step.

You were quick to reassure him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that—it’s just... I don’t really like being touched.”

Jack stared for a second, ears twitching. “…Got it.”

You looked at him nervously. “Does that bother you?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. It surprised me. But I get it.”

You waited for more, but he didn’t speak right away.

Jack wasn’t the type to talk just to fill space. When he did finally speak, it was with quiet conviction.

“I don’t need to touch you to be close to you.”

You exhaled in relief, and Jack gave you a small smile.

“You’re important to me,” he said, looking straight ahead. “If that means showing I care by keeping my distance, that’s fine. I’ll be right here anyway.”

From then on, Jack would stand just close enough for comfort, always aware of your space. He’d open doors, carry your bag, walk you to class—even leave fresh bottles of water near your locker with your name written on them in neat blocky letters.

He didn’t say “I love you” out loud much—but you could feel it in the steadiness of his presence, the quiet loyalty in his gaze, and the respectful distance he never dared cross without your okay.

Ace had always been casual with touch.

Slinging his arm around your shoulder, ruffling your hair, poking your cheek when you pouted—it was all part of how he expressed affection. So when you flinched the first time he held your hand, his smile faltered for half a second.

He didn’t say anything right then.

You laughed it off quickly, and he let it slide.

But it started happening more. A subtle tense in your shoulders when he leaned too close. A quiet step back when he jokingly tried to pick you up. The realization came slow.

So one lazy afternoon, with you both sitting in Heartslabyul’s lounge after a round of magical history tutoring, he brought it up.

“Hey… can I ask you something?”

You looked up from your notes.

“Yeah?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wandering to the roses outside.

“You don’t like being touched, do you?”

There was a flicker of guilt in your eyes, and you opened your mouth—but he was quick to wave his hands, sitting upright.

“Wait—don’t freak out. I’m not mad or anything! I just... wanna know if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You hesitated, but nodded.

“Yeah. It’s not about you. I just don’t like... being touched. It makes my skin crawl sometimes.”

He blinked, taking that in. No teasing grin. No smug quip.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, grinning now but softer this time. “You think I’m gonna make you hug me if it makes you uncomfortable? I’m annoying, not evil.”

You laughed, a bit breathless, and he leaned back on his hands, glancing up at the ceiling.

“Still,” he added, tilting his head your way, “if there’s ever a way you do like affection—just tell me. I’m good at switching tactics, y’know. Might even start writing you love letters or something dramatic like Sebek.”

You giggled, warmth in your chest, and bumped your shoulder gently against his.

He looked shocked, then smug. “Hey—was that your version of a kiss?!”

“Shut up, Ace.”

Deuce wasn’t exactly the smoothest when it came to romance, but he tried. Maker, did he try. Carrying your books, pulling your chair out, offering you his jacket even when it wasn’t cold. He’d blush furiously every time—but your smile made it worth it.

But the one time he reached out to hold your hand after class and you instinctively pulled away, his heart sank.

He’d pulled back immediately, stammering an apology. You'd assured him it wasn’t personal.

But he’d spent the rest of the day racking his brain, worried he’d messed up somehow.

It wasn’t until the weekend—when you two sat by the Ramshackle steps, sharing snacks—that you brought it up.

“I’m not mad about earlier,” you said gently, watching the sky. “I just... I’m not good with physical touch.”

Deuce blinked, fingers tightening slightly around his sandwich wrapper.

“You’re not?”

You shook your head. “Even hugs or hand-holding. It’s not something I’m comfortable with. I still love being with you, though.”

He looked at you like you’d just handed him something precious.

“Okay,” he said softly.

You glanced at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean—yeah, I’d like to hold your hand and stuff someday. But it’s not more important than you being happy. I’d rather walk beside you without touching than make you uncomfortable.”

The way your lips parted made his cheeks turn red.

“I’ll learn what works for you,” he added quickly. “Like, if you like words better, or... if there’s something else I can do. I want to be someone who makes you feel safe.”

Your heart swelled, and you gently placed your hand over his—not quite holding, just a light touch of fingers.

He froze, eyes wide.

“Like that?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Sometimes.”

His grin was shy but proud, like he’d just passed the world’s most important exam.

From then on, Deuce never reached out without asking. He’d offer a hand with a quiet “Is this okay?” or send sweet notes folded into perfect rectangles. He still blushed every time you smiled at him. But more than anything, he was patient.

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kuro8066 · 3 days ago

Text

Obedience is taught "patiently".

Dom! Gn reader × brat! Aventurine

Trigger warnings: first time nsfw! We are going WILD people! MDNI. Was inspired by this. Mentioned toys, mostly gn reader but implied cock/strap. degration if you squint. Brat taming aventurine, reader is rough with him. Soft and gentle aftercare tho. Not proofread aventurine might be ooc.

Special thanks to @livelaughlovesubs for the idea. 👉👈❣️

You were exhausted.

Not just physically, but down to the very marrow of your bones. A two-day stretch of back-to-back meetings, endless reports, and a goddamn overnight stay in your office chair with only a lukewarm cup of coffee to keep you company. You had barely changed your shirt when you came home late that evening, your head pounding and muscles stiff.

All you asked was a moment of peace. Just one.

You hadn’t even made it halfway through the living room before Aventurine was on you. Smug grin, arms crossed, leaning by the doorway like he was the picture of casual luxury in his silk robe and wine glass in hand.

“Well, well, the hardworking husband returns. Did they finally let you out of the corporate dungeon?” he drawled, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or did you beg them to release you so you could come back and play house with your spoiled brat?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Aven. Not now.”

“Aww poor baby. What now? Too tired to even bark back at me? And look at you—same tired face, same rumpled shirt. Is that my punishment? That I get leftovers of you after the world’s already drained you dry?”

Your jaw clenched.

" Aventurine. I just need a minute,” you said tightly, heading to the bedroom. “Don’t push me.”

Of course, he pushed. He raised his voice and galred.

"Don't think I'm so needy for your attention. I could walk away anytime I want to."

He spotted throught his teeth. That was the last straw for y/n. He just left aventurine there and walked into the bedroom.

Later, when you sat on the couch with a book in hand—trying to decompress, trying to find a sliver of normal—he stood in the doorway again. Pacing, humming, sighing dramatically. When that failed, he pulled your favorite vase off the side table and dropped it. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

You didn’t flinch.

He hurled a book next.

You turned the page of yours.

Aventurine’s voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “You’re really doing this? The silent treatment?” Another glass, this time his wine glass, followed. Red wine splattered on the floor like blood.

Still, you didn’t even blink.

His voice cracked somewhere after the fourth tantrum. “Fine! Be that way, you cruel bastard. See if I care!” But even that sounded hollow.

He walked out of the bedroom and crashing sounds followed after from the living room. Some things are being thrown for sure. And when he realised it wasn't doing anything he came back into the bedroom. Stood at the doorway staring at y/n, who hasn't moved from the same position, still reading.

Hours passed. The air shifted. Desperation began to crawl into his voice, thick and unsteady. At one point, you heard him whisper, “Why aren’t you looking at me…?”

Then—silence.

Until there's a thump sound.

You didn’t look down, not immediately. But you felt the warmth against your knees, the tremble of his breath against your skin.

He was kneeling. In front of you. On the floor.

Face flushed, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his usual arrogant air was shattered—replaced by something raw, something achingly human. Aventurine clutched at your wrists, lowering your book with trembling fingers.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You like it when I kneel, right? I'm here. I'm here now.”

His forehead pressed against your knee. “Please look at me… Don't ignore me. Touch me. Pet me. Look only at me. Talk only to me.” His fingers tightened. “Make me feel good. Don’t act like you can’t hear me! Please. I’m sorry I acted like a brat.”

Your smirk was slow, deliberate, as you finally looked down at him.

“Took you long enough huh.”

The moment your hand slid into his hair, Aventurine shuddered with relief. Like every tantrum, every wall he threw up, every game he played—was for this. This moment. Your touch. Your attention.

Your control.

“Good boy,” you murmured, thumb brushing the tear tracks from his cheek.

You didn’t say a word.

Not when you stood, not when you left him trembling on the floor like a broken doll clinging to your knee. You just stood up—calm, composed—and walked towards the bedside drawer and took something out.

Aventurine blinked in a daze, confused for a moment. But then you returned. With something small. Discreet. A toy he hadn’t seen in a while.

“You made quite the mess,” you said, voice smooth like sin, gaze pointed as you loomed over him. “I ought to spank you raw for it. But no, that’s too easy. You like that too much.”

He barely registered what was put into his hands. You tapped his cheek lightly, forcing him to look at you. He was flushed, glassy-eyed.

“Put this in. Living room. Sofa. Don’t move a muscle.”

Aventurine came out of the bedroom later and barely made it to the sofa. He collapsed into it, panting. Then you got to work. Clean the mess your lovely baby brat just made.

Shirtless.

Muscles flexing with each sweep of the broom, each lean to pick up broken glass, each bend to gather fallen books. His eyes were wide, lips parted, moans already slipping out of him by the third minute of watching you. The vibrations weren’t rough—they were teasing. Constant. Unrelenting. Not enough to finish, never enough to escape. But just enough to keep him teetering right at the edge.

You didn’t spare him a glance.

And that was the cruelest part.

Aventurine’s hands gripped the sofa’s edge until his knuckles went white. His hips shifted instinctively—but one warning glance from you earlier had him frozen solid. He wasn’t allowed to move. Not even to grind down, not even to twitch.

“Y-Y/N—ah—Y/N, please…”

You stepped over broken glass with elegant ease, veins on your forearms popping deliciously. He whimpered. His toes curled.

“Fuck, I—I’m sorry, okay?! I’ll be good. I’ll listen. Please, I can’t—I can’t—”

Your pace didn’t slow. You kept cleaning. You weren’t finished yet. Not even halfway.

By now, Aventurine had lost all sense of time. Hours? Minutes? Centuries? The only thing he knew was the maddening heat in his body and the ache from clenching so hard he thought he might go insane. The soundproof walls helped—his cries were loud, desperate, echoing back at him as if mocking his fall from smug to pathetic.

When you passed him again, glistening slightly with sweat, the toy surged to a higher setting. He choked on a moan. “Nngh—p-please! Please! I’ll do anything. Just—just touch me. Say my name. Something. Anything. I need—fuck, I need you!”

You finally stopped.

The house was clean. The books were back on the shelves. The glasses were gone. You looked at him, finally, after what felt like an eternity. He was slumped, boneless and shaking, a wreck of pleasure. Overstimulated and craving.

You walked over.

Kneeled before him.

Gripped his jaw.

His tear-streaked eyes fluttered open as your thumb brushed the corner of his lips. “Look at you. All this… just because I didn’t pay you attention for a little while?”

He whimpered. Nodded.

“Pathetic.”

A moan left his plump lips.

“Now beg properly.”

He slurred over his words.

"Ple—argh! Please daddy. I listened to you. I've been good. Please."

“You did well baby.”

The words were soft—unlike the firm grip of your hand twisting the toy out of him. Aventurine sobbed, back arching with the sheer shock of the loss, only to gasp as you replaced it with exactly what he wanted.

Yours.

Hot. Real. Thick. Unforgiving.

He moaned—loud, sharp, a sound born from weeks of need and hours of torment. And you filled him in one smooth, merciless thrust, barely giving him a moment to adjust before you started to move.

He wasn’t ready. That was the point.

“Y-Y/N—!” His hands clawed at the sofa, desperate for grounding. “Too much—ah—!”

“Too bad,” you said into his ear, voice breathless from restraint, from holding back the storm that was now crashing down on him. “You made this mess. You begged for this. Now take it.”

The rhythm was brutal.

Each thrust knocked thought after thought loose from his pretty little head. His back curved like a bow, arms limp , pinned over his head, eyes rolled back, brain melting into pure sensation. The overstimulation made his body feel like fire and static, nerves sparking with every movement of your hips.

And through it all—

Your lips were on his.

Not demanding. Not harsh.

But sweet. Addictively sweet. Devastatingly deep. You kissed him like you owned him—like you were carving your name into his soul through each glide of tongue and teeth. He mewled into it, lips parting willingly as you devoured every broken sound he made.

His body was yours.

His mind was gone.

And you used both like a composer with a violin—each thrust, each shift, each kiss dragging louder and louder cries from his lips. You pushed him down, held him in place, shaped him like clay. Your brat. Your reward. Your punishment.

“Look at you now,” you muttered against his lips, licking up the taste of him. “So good for me. Finally.”

“I—I’m yours—” Aventurine gasped, mind a hazy swirl of light and heartbeat and you. “Only yours—please, 's too deep. I can't—”

“You can. You can take it baby.”

And he did.

He broke for you, body shaking, ruined around you. Still, you didn’t stop. You kept going, pushing him past his peak and into something raw and mindless, something where words didn’t matter anymore. He was sobbing, begging for mercy, clinging to your shoulders like a lifeline, nails digging into your back as soon as his hands were freed and taking everything you gave him.

When he finally climaxed, his body was twitching, chest heaving with aftershocks, you kissed his temple. This time, softer. Slower.

“Good boy.”

He whimpered.

The storm passed. The house was quiet.

Aventurine lay limp against your chest, the fight bled out of him, replaced by soft shivers and muffled whimpers. His cheeks were still flushed, his hair a damp mess stuck to his temples. You carried him gently, carefully, as if he was glass—even though he'd spent the past hours proving just how much he could take.

The bathroom was already warm. You’d turned the lights low, letting the soft golden glow dance across the tiles, the tub filled with soothing, floral-scented water. You lowered him into it slowly, and he winced at first, overstimulated nerves twitching, but then—he sighed.

“Mmh...”

You sat behind him in the water, pulling his back to your chest, wrapping both arms around his middle, letting him just rest. Your chin rested lightly on his shoulder as your hands ran down his arms, grounding him. One of your hands reached for the cloth and dipped it into the water before gently wiping along his chest.

“You really went all out, didn’t you, Aven?” you murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear. He squirmed slightly, half a protest, half a plea for more contact. You smiled. “My little kakavasha... throwing tantrums, breaking things... just because you wanted attention.”

“Wasn’t—” He tried to argue, but his voice cracked. His pride was too fragile to admit it fully.

You chuckled low in your throat, and kissed the side of his neck, letting your lips linger. “My little spoiled princess,” you whispered against his skin, making him whimper. “You didn’t just want my attention, did you? You needed it. You wanted your thoughts shoved right out of your bratty little head.”

He hid his face in his hands, trembling. Whether it was embarrassment or satisfaction, even he didn’t know.

“Y-Y/N...”

“Shh,” you hummed, rubbing slow circles into his thigh. “I know, baby. I know. That’s why I gave it to you. You earned your reward... but you also earned your punishment.”

You shifted forward slightly, arms tightening. Aventurine melted into you, pliant and quiet now. His breathing steadied, slow and soft. He was safe.

“You did good, Aven,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his eye. “My pretty little baby. My lovely disaster. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

And in the stillness of that bath, with your arms around him and your voice so warm in his ears, he truly believed it.

He was yours.

Morning came slowly, with warm golden light bleeding through the sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across the bedroom.

And you were everything he needed.

Aventurine lay on his side, half buried in pillows, the blankets tangled around his waist. His hair was a soft mess—less styled, more honest. His lashes trembled slightly, brows furrowed in a stubborn little frown even in sleep, like he was having a dream he refused to lose.

And you? You were already awake. Had been for a while.

One arm tucked under your head, the other wrapped loosely around his waist, fingers lazily tracing idle circles against his bare skin. You didn’t have work today. You made sure of it. Your phone had buzzed more than once, emails stacking up—but they could rot. You already had your biggest priority in your arms.

A brat. A menace. A sharp-tongued little beast who broke vases when ignored—

But also the man who curled into you like he was scared to lose you.

Your lips pressed against his forehead , just a soft, lingering kiss.

“Still pretending to be asleep, princess?” you murmured into his hair.

Aventurine didn't answer. Of course he wouldn’t.

You grinned, your voice low, teasing, “You think I don’t know? That you only throw tantrums when you’re desperate for me? That you think needing someone is the same as losing?”

He shifted—just slightly. Barely a twitch. But it was enough. His mask always cracked when you were gentle.

“You’re so ridiculous, Kakavasha,” you whispered, voice dropping into that tender, velvet tone he hated loving. “I work late one night, and suddenly you’re flinging wine glasses like a man scorned. What, you thought I’d forget I have a spoiled little husband at home?”

“You’re annoying,” he mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep. “Shut up.”

“Oh? So you can speak?” You chuckled, pulling him closer by the waist. “Could’ve fooled me, with how you were just panting my name last night like—”

“Y/N!” His voice was firm this time, but the tips of his ears were pink. He wouldn’t look at you.

You softened. Kissed the apple of his cheek. Let your hand slide up to cradle his face. “You’re the love of my life, Aven,” you said gently. “Not my job. Not the world. You. You always come first. Even when you’re being impossible. Job exists purely so that I could earn money to buy you gifts and spoil you.”

He didn’t respond right away but he muttered something under his breath.

"Who even wants your money? I already have enough you dumbass."

He will never admit but all he wants is for you to be always near him. Vulnerability didn’t sit easy with Aventurine—it itched under his skin like an allergic reaction.

But he curled into you. Just a bit. Let you hold him tighter.

That was his way of saying it.

I missed you.

Please don’t make me need you this much.

I love you too.

And you heard every word in that silence.

Bonus scene:

The sheets were warm, tangled around both their legs, and just as you began to shift—muttering something about needing to make breakfast—slender fingers traced along your abdomen.

“Aven,” you warned lightly, voice still laced with sleep.

But he didn’t stop. His hand splayed across your chest now, trailing up to your collarbone, his pink-stained ears betraying his nonchalance. He didn’t meet your gaze as he whispered, “ Hold me again.”

You paused, eyes narrowing just slightly as you caught the tension in his jaw. The slight tremble in his voice. “After last night?” you asked, one brow raised. “You should try walking first, kakavasha. I might’ve rearranged your spine and hips.”

Aventurine looked scandalized for a brief second—but only because you were right. Then, as if determined not to be teased out of his moment, he leaned closer and murmured against your throat, “This time… do it slowly.”

That made you pause. The weight of his request settled gently in the air.

He reached up, fingers touching your cheek. His thumb grazed the corner of your lips. “You didn’t cradle my face like you used to,” he said softly. “Didn’t kiss on my eyelids, or here—”

He tilted his head, showing you the barcode-like mark the side of his neck. The same mark that proves the troubles and hardships he had faced his whole life. The same mark that he had learned to not want to tear it out of his skin just because you treat it so gently. Always a kiss on the mark, just to prove you don't mind his past, just to prove that he's still worth loving after all he had done to survive.

“You missed the steps,” he added, voice petulant. Dangerously close to pleading.

And what could a man do when his lovely male wife, who’d throw a tantrum before ever admitting he needed to be cherished, looked at him like that? When he asked—so gently, so miserably—for affection like it was a rare gem?

You cupped his face instantly.

“Oh, baby…” you sighed, brushing your thumb under his eye, then leaning in to kiss the soft corner there. “My precious little beast really wanted to be loved properly, huh?”

He didn’t answer, but the way he clutched your back said enough.

You kissed his eyelids, one at a time. His cheeks. His lips. His throat. The mark on his neck got the softest, lingering kiss, followed by a whisper of, “There. Was that better, love?”

He nodded, face flushed, breathing shaky.

And when you finally moved to hold him again—slow, deep, every movement paired with a kiss or a soft whisper—you made sure not a single step was missed.

#hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #dom male reader #x reader #fanfic #brat taming #aventurine x reader #gn reader #aventurine x male reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x y/n

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yukioos · 3 days ago

Note

Omg can you pls do a writing with Kirishima where reader has her face covered w/ a mask as part of her costume but never removed it and one day she reveals it and everyone is shocked on how pretty she is? Thank uu <3

eijiro finally sees you with your mask off

kirishima didn’t know you were enrolled as a full-time student at UA until he saw you at fatgum’s agency with tetsutetsu. before, he only saw you at the provisional hero license exam, entrance exam, and sports festival. you passed all of them with flying colors and not once did he see you without your mask.

he only saw you with a white, porcelain doll mask. he knew not a single thing about you but yearned to. you were a mystery to him, one he needed to solve and get closer to. so when he saw you sitting around fatgum’s agency with amajiki, kirishima gasped.

he asked tetsutetsu in a hushed tone, “hey, isn’t that girl in your class? i’ve only seen her once or twice in competitive events.”

the metal man grinned back at him, “yeah, that’s y/n. i don’t know what’s going on with her though, we hardly see her too. she seems to do well on tests and stuff, but we don’t know what’s up with her. let’s go up to her!”

kirishima shrugged and walked alongside him to you and amajiki, who was looking down at the ground in embarrassment. he probably stuttered while talking to you, and he was even more shy now that more people were coming over.

you glanced up at your classmate and a bit with red hair, who you assumed to be kirishima. tetsutetsu had talked about him and their similar quirks. now that you thought about it, kirishima was handsome up close, and he had part of his hair shaped into two large horns.

a smile came to your face, and he asked, “hey, you’re from class b, right? i’m eijiro kirishima from class a! i don’t see you around a lot, but i’ve been wondering, what’s your quirk?”

“doll manipulation. it’s random, but i can turn anyone i want into a doll and turn any doll i want into a human, and i can control them. in my opinion, it’s convenient—” you spoke quietly, staring into his red eyes. he then understood why you wore a doll mask.

“y/n, amajiki, you’re patrolling today! can the two of you take on thugs if you need to?” fatgum’s announced, voice loud and clear as he stomped over to you.

the two of you nodded, and you walked away without saying a word.

but days passed, and kirishima still couldn’t stop thinking about you. he had even more on his plate, as he was to attack overhaul and find a little girl named eri. she wasn’t in a safe spot, and he hoped he would see you too, maybe you would help them out with the battle.

many heroes were at the scene. before you all split up, kirishima saw a sliver of your white mask and yelled out your hero name.

you turned at the sound and gripped your belt, then murmured, “what?”

he spoke, “do good in there, alright?”

you paused, nodded, and then walked off. what were you supposed to say? god, fatgum was right. you really were spending too much like amajiki. you were basically turning into him.

hours had passed. grueling pain and blood sat on your hip, which was bleeding at an insanely fast rate. your mask had broken during battle, so you just decided to take it off there, although no one saw you without it. you quickly fled the scene after chisaki was defeated.

you stumbled, murmuring curses when you heard your name being called out again. it was probably kirishima.

you turned around, and he halted in his tracks.

he’d never seen your face before. he stared at you like you were the most beautiful thing he saw. your eyes were tired, bright with happiness yet so dark, your skin was a pretty shade, and a few freckles kissed your cheeks.

“you’re beautiful, y/n!” he blurted out, blushing once he realized what he said, “sorry— i couldn’t help myself. i know some ladies get upset when men comment on them like that, i won’t do it again!”

it was almost as if he was begging for your forgiveness, and you weren’t even mad.

“it’s fine, kirishima. i don’t know how i’m going to get a new mask now,” you grumbled during the last part.

“if you don’t want to show your face, i could get you a simple surgery mask to walk around in right now!” he suggested, sharp teeth shining in the sunlight, “and please, call me eijiro.”

you grinned, “i’d like that, eijiro.”

hope u enjoy!! y/n can’t handle all that

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comesatimecomesashadow · 1 day ago

Text

frayed synapses *ೃ༄

ׂ╰┈➤ . . . you're reading part iv.

cw *ೃ༄ mentions of injuries/scars + insecurity about them, descriptions of poor mental health/social anxiety

summary *ೃ༄ with the burden of job-related stress weighing on your back, you decide to unwind at a local pub. yet instead of relaxation, you find out that your neighbor is none other than Simon RIley, a member of the military. after making the decision to clumsily ask him to have tea with you after an embarrassing first impression, you find that underneath Simon Riley's hardened, stone-cold façade, is a man who desperately seeks an end to the turmoil that plagues him.

note *ೃ༄ sorry for the late update, i was fighting demons (crippling depression), enjoy !

masterlist | series masterlist | prev . . next

“I didn’t think i’d being seein’ you after..”

“I know.” your eyes were trained on the client’s face in front of you, a calm look washed over your visage as you faced the same person that gave you the scar on your forearm. “Did you hope you wouldn’t see me again? I understand our last conversation was distressing for you.” You spoke with a welcoming tone. It made you anxious to even be in the room with them, but they were someone in need. A person with anger issues was still a person underneath.

“I.. yeah. I guess you could say that I just.. What you said made me feel like..” She mulled it over in her mind as if she was trying to find the right words to say to you. It was clear she felt remorse for her actions which was a good thing. “-like.. I don’t know, it just hurt, it made me angry that you pointed shit like that out, like it's supposed to be obvious.”

You heard her words and gazed into her guilt-ridden blue eyes. What came next made them wide, as if she’d just witnessed something completely other-worldly. “I’m sorry.” you said. With the most sincere voice you possessed, you apologized to her.

“Why are you apologizing? ..I’m the one who did that to you..!” She gestured to your forearm and a glossy layer of water covered her eyes. All you did was hand her a tissue as if her crying didn’t bother you at all — because it didn’t. It was normal, in fact, it was healthy. “I should be apologizing to you…” she muttered as she wiped her tears.

“I’m apologizing to you because I hurt you,” you said simply, “You deserve to be treated like a person, with respect and without judgement.”

“It was wrong, what I did.” She was sure of her statement but used it as more of a weapon to refute your statement than an acknowledgement.

“It was and I'm proud of you for admitting that. It's a hard thing to apologize when you’ve done something wrong- It requires a type of vulnerability that you’ve mentioned you’re not used to.” you explained her feelings to her with a soothing tone, encouraging her to keep going on in her journey. “My only job is to help you get better and I understand that confronting these types of feelings is never easy, but I want you to keep trying, alright?”

She only nodded, a few more tears slipping out.

“You’ve come a long way from where you were at a year ago. Healing is never linear and you may go back to old patterns every now and then, but it will never erase the amount of progress you’ve achieved as long as you keep trying.” She nodded again at your reassuring words but with a smile on her face this time.

“Yeah, I.. Thank you.” She clutched the used tissue and tucked it into her pocket.

You looked at the time on your watch and offered a small smile. “Our time’s up unfortunately, but I'll see you again this time next week. Alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” She got up and smiled at you before leaving the room. Once the door closed you were left standing in the cold room. With a heavy sigh, you collected your things and headed out of the old building. The prison you worked at wasn’t new, it had been around for decades but the atmosphere was anything but dreary, in fact it was quite lively. Most of the inmates knew who you were and didn’t really bother to pay much mind to you, which was perfect given how much of a recluse you were outside of your job. They never said much more than a greeting or a farewell and it was rare that they started conversations with you. You interacted more with the staff since you worked alongside them in a sense but the interactions weren’t anything special.

Needless to say, your work life was pretty mundane.

Much like your personal life — but it wasn't as if you were actively searching for something to change. You’d spent your life looking for stability and now that you had it, you were satisfied, at least that’s what you wanted to convince yourself of. Sure it got a little lonely every now and then but that was normal. You didn’t need anything else — or anyone else for that matter.

Yet when you climbed up those familiar crimson carpet stairs and were greeted by the sight of a very familiar man standing in front of the door to the flat next to yours, it made an unknown warm feeling settle in your chest. You debated on whether or not to say something to your neighbor — To Simon — but you decided against it. What if he didn’t want to speak to you? He was probably tired from work anyway. You walked up to your door and juggled the keys in your hands looking for the right one. Just as you found your house key, a gruff voice — belonging to Simon — grabbed your attention.

“Afternoon.” he greeted awkwardly.

You turned your head towards him slowly, not expecting a man — who was evidently closed off — to start a conversation with you. Sure you got to know more about him and vice versa during the time the two of you spent at the coffee shop, but nothing had changed — he was still only your neighbor, just as you were to him. Even if your heart yearned for human connection, your brain kept denying you of it. A defense mechanism at its finest, as if it was infused within you like the blood in your veins. “Afternoon.” you hastily took off your earphones to give him your full attention. Gazing upon him for a moment, you noticed the way his dark-blonde hair relentlessly shined in the dim light of the hallway. Simon’s visage carried remnants of the eyeblack he presumably used for his job, it made him look dirty and tired — but you still smiled. “Did you just get back?”

“Yeah, work n’ that.” he vaguely explained, “Sorry for leavin’ so abruptly.”

You gingerly shook your head, “S’fine, wasn’t anything too important to be apologizing about anyway.” Your eyes remained locked on his as the two of you stood in the hallway. The both of you taking in the fact that you were in front of one another once again as if it was an other-worldly experience.

“Guess so,” Simon said simply as he turned to you fully. “How’s the arm?” His eyes broke away from yours momentarily to glance at your still bandaged arm. Was he concerned about it? About you?

“Better than the last time we met,” you chuckled, “Finally got the stitches out, hurt a bit though.” Your comment made him chuckle. As a soldier, he was used to the feeling of removing stitches all too well. It took you a while to register that this was the first time you’ve seen him without his black surgical mask on. Simon’s face wasn’t littered with scars, but many of them were present — not uncommon for someone in his line of work.

“When are you gettin’ the bandages off?” he asked you, an interested lilt to his voice as he did.

“Friday this week at three. Why do you ask?” Your fingers ghosted over the bandages absentmindedly. The injury didn’t hurt much anymore but you did wonder if it would leave a scar. Simon’s eyes drifted from yours as if he was considering something but words failed to leave him.

“No reason, just askin’.”

“Alright then,” there was something off about his answer but you didn’t push. Clutching your folder closer to your chest as you inserted your key into the door and pushed it open you bid him a quiet, “Have a good afternoon, Simon.” The tall blond only nodded without a word as he watched you disappear into the comfort of your flat once more. He could burn holes into your door with the way he was intently staring at your close door with regret. Regret that despite his years, he still couldn’t form normal human connection outside of work.

The key felt cold in his hand as he pushed it into the lock, his flat felt foreign — empty. There was barely any furnishings in it except for what was absolutely necessary: a couch in the living room, a widescreen television on the wall in front of it, his bed which sat lonely in his bedroom next to a nightstand that rarely held anything in it, stools that sat bare in front of the kitchen island. . . He didn’t feel the need to decorate since he was always gone, but the bare walls and the popcorn ceiling of his apartment made him wonder about yours.

What did yours look like?

Did you have pictures on the walls? Were you the type to take care of plants? You did smell of lavender sometimes.. Was your living room lively? Was your room a silent reflection of you and your interests? There were so many questions that swirled in his mind as he left his keys hanging on the backside of the door and got settled. Questions that he hoped he’d get the answers to.

If only he had the guts to try and get to know you.

Work once again began to consume your life and you couldn’t be happier.

It wasn’t too hard to fall back into the rhythm of things after the incident. Offering tissues to clients, helping them work through their deep-seated issues, talking about their daily lives, what their lives were like before imprisonment; It was all good work. The week passed by like a flash thankfully and soon enough came the time when the bandages would come off. When your doctor had first tended to your wound she notified you that it was likely to leave a scar — Shanks made from scratch in a jail cell weren’t exactly the best thing to be cut with. At the time, you could care less as long as you were alive. Now that the familiar white strips of bandage were gone, the lighter patch of skin shone through.

You didn’t know what to think of it, to say the least.

Your eyes spent a great deal of time just gazing upon the scar on your arm after your appointment. Though the TV was on in front of you playing a random sitcom, your mind was elsewhere. The lifted patch of skin on your arm bothered you. It was like a living reminder of your stupidity — it almost taunted you with the way it stood out. A frustrated sigh made its way from your throat as you got up from the couch and threw on a comfortable hoodie.

Maybe a walk would clear your head.

You grabbed your box of toothpicks and slipped the black stick in between your lips, stuffing the box in the back pocket of your jeans as you made your way out of your flat. When you pulled the warm key from the lock and turned to walk out, you almost jumped out of your skin upon seeing your neighbor next to you. He was lucky you didn’t shriek from the surprise of it.

“Simon!” you whisper-yelled. Your hand flew over your chest as you leaned against your door to regain your composure. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Goin’ for a run.” he said simply as if he didn’t almost cause you a heart attack. “Didn’t mean t’scare ya. Sorry.” A sliver of a smile made its way onto his face. Simon was used to being intimidating because of his height and the fact that he was a high-ranking soldier. Usually, he wasn’t fazed by shocked reactions but seeing you genuinely startled by him was a little funny — considering you’d proved yourself to be extremely observant.

A deep breath settled into your lungs while you straightened up. “Is that a habit of yours?? You almost gave me a heart attack..!” Granted, you were still a little shaken but at least it took your mind off things, specifically the scar that seemed to itch endlessly.

Simon only peered down at you, a calmer look upon his face. “You ok?” his voice was as gruff as always.

“Yeah, I’m fine- you said you were going out for a run? At this hour?” Somehow, you knew how to make a conversation feel as natural as breathing which made it easier for Simon to ease into your presence. It was something he could do mindlessly with you, he noticed.

“Yeah. What are you doin’ out this late? S’pretty dangerous to be out.” The dingy light in the hallway flickered and the air was stale but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Being here, with him — talking to him — felt like a much needed release. It was astonishing how a simple exchange of words with him was akin to a taste of the finest water. You wondered how long you could preserve the stream this time.

“Guess so,” you shrugged, biting on the toothpick mindlessly with your molars, “I just needed a distraction I guess.” You adjusted yourself to lean against the wall, your vision torn away from Simon’s visage. He guessed it was something you didn’t feel like talking about.

So he didn’t ask; He only leaned up against the wall beside you. “. . .D’you wanna go on a walk?” His dusty auburn irises could see the ghost of a smile on your lips, a genuine one.

“Are you asking me to join you?”

“D’you see anyone else ‘ere?”

You chuckled, “You’ve got jokes.”

“I’ll tell ya some more if it’ll get that frown off you.” Simon snickered when he said it but you felt his words to be genuine, just masked under a joking tone. Maybe Simon had the capacity to worry for you after all, no matter how much sense it didn’t make to you. After all, you were just his neighbor.

Nothing more.

You pushed yourself off the wall and Simon followed after you. “Wasn’t frowning.”

“Was too.”

You wondered then, as you walked down the carpeted stairs beside him, if you could preserve this endless flow of natural, unfiltered, dialogue. In the comfortable silence that settled between the pair of you, the thought of keeping this night close to your heart seemed more enticing by the minute.

taglist *ೃ༄ . . . @dwkfan . . @savannahsomething . . @thatghostlykid . .

#jume fics #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon x reader #simon ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley cod #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader fluff #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod x reader comfort #going insane ngl

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