#like i thought i finally found someone to follow

[envyi5envious]

HE BEGGED AND HE PLEADED.

࿐ — 𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂 : YANDERE (Invincible) Mark Grayson x GN Reader. 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : Mark’s half-assed apologies just won’t cut it for you anymore. 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 : 1.6k. 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 : Hurt/Comfort. Canon gore and obsessive tendencies. 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙎 : English isn’t my first language. Enjoy ♡

It had been days since you last spoke to Mark. He had been missing dates for weeks, always promising he’d ‘make it up to you’. At first, the gifts and apologies felt sincere, but eventually, they became just empty gestures. You grew tired of feeling like an afterthought, like dating you was just an inconvenience in his life. Finally, you reached a breaking point. You told him you needed a break, hoping he would understand that you weren’t someone he could just be with when he felt like it. But the silence that followed was deafening. No calls, no texts—nothing. It stung more than you expected. You found yourself replaying the moment in your mind. He seemed stunned at first, like he didn’t expect you to actually say anything but then he begged.

Mark Grayson actually started begging. You might’ve made fun of him for it if you weren’t so hurt. But after you left, nothing. Maybe you should have been happy. Happy that he respected your boundaries, happy he actually gave you time. But you didn’t need time. Not really. You need him to be there for you. Maybe you should have told him that…

You weren’t good at communication but you could always feel that there was something Mark wanted to tell you. Whenever you told him that you didn’t want his gifts, he would open his mouth like he was about to say something then close it just as fast. You wanted to know what it was so badly, wanted him to just tell you what was more important than you. But he didn’t. And that’s why you left.

After washing your face with water, you brushed your teeth. You stared at yourself in the mirror, thinking. Thinking about him, about school, about moving. Maybe you should just leave this place for good. Break up with Mark officially and just move on. No. You couldn’t. You loved him too much to do that. But you weren’t just going to let him treat you this way. You have feelings too. And right now? You felt tired. You spit into the sink, rinsing your mouth out with water. Using a towel to wipe your mouth, you made your way to your bed. Throwing the towel into your laundry basket. You let out a deep sigh, laying down. “Shit.. I miss him.” You finally admitted it out loud. Maybe that was what it took for Mark to finally reach out, to finally knock on your window again. Rushing out of bed, you ran to the window. Only this time, you saw something you weren’t expecting. — “Fuck..” Mark muttered to himself, his fingers running through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. Great going, Mark. You really screwed that one up. He knew he should have just told you but he didn’t. He thought he could protect you from getting hurt, but you got hurt anyway.

He stood up from his bed, walking to the window. Pulled himself through it, he floated in the air. The suit felt tight on his body, like it was restricting him. Like he couldn’t breathe. Or maybe he just needed you. Needed to feel you again, to just be near you. It was like he couldn’t do anything without you anymore. He started eating less since you left. Ignored his mom when she tried reaching out to him. Ignoring Cecil’s orders. He couldn’t even force himself to go to school. Because what was the point? He didn’t even know anymore. You had ruined him but he didn’t blame you. This was his mess to fix and he was sure as hell going to fix it. He flew to your home, not touching the ground as he made his way to your window. He didn’t show himself, not yet. He just listened. Listened to the sound of your voice as you muttered to yourself. To the way you were doing just fine without him, like he wasn’t struggling to breathe without you. He didn’t know whether to be upset at you or himself. He stayed there for a few hours, wondering if he should just reveal himself but he knew he couldn’t. You deserved a real apology, one that had effort put into it. So he finally left so he wouldn’t act on impulse and fuck everything up again. — Mark, flying? Your room was on the second floor, but he stood in front of it like he was walking on air. Usually he would just climb but this time, he was standing. And his clothes- Invincible's costume was bloody, he just wasn't wearing the mask anymore. You opened the window, his eyes looking into yours. “Mark..?” You whispered, moving to make room for him. It didn’t take long to put the pieces together. Mark Grayson, your Mark Grayson, was Invincible. That’s what he had been hiding? That he was a fucking superhero? That’s what you cried at night for, thinking that it was just you who wasn’t good enough or that he didn’t actually care about you. You had cried for nothing. Now you just felt like a fool. Mark was quick to go onto his knees, tears swelling in his eyes as he lowered his gaze to the floor. “Please..” He started, biting his lip slightly to keep himself from breaking down. “Listen to me. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.. I just- I wanted to keep you safe.” You wanted to look away, you didn’t want to forgive him yet, But when you did, you felt Mark grip your hand. “Please look at me. (Y/N), please…” He lifted his own he from the ground, eyes wet with his own tears. “Mark-”, “Stop- Just please, let me speak.” He whispered, squeezing his eyes when they started to sting. He hated it. Not because it hurt but because he couldn't see you. “I know I was shitty and I know I fucked up. I wish I could have just told you sooner but I thought I was protecting you..” His grip on your hand was tight, it almost hurt. But that’s not what scared you, what scared you was the desperation he had in his eyes as he stared at you. Like he longed to be in your presence again. “Mark.. Why are you bloody?” — Mark’s fist connected with the man’s cheek, bruising it with one hit. Then he punched again, and again and again. The temperature of his body froze Mark’s knuckles which only served to injure him more. The adrenaline running through his body forcing him to act, blocking out all the noise around. “That’s enough, Mark.” Cecil said through the comm. Mark didn’t stop. He kept punching, hitting, fighting. The man built a hard layer of ice on his face to protect himself, but Mark kept going. His knuckle didn’t bleed, not even any bruises. He couldn’t feel anything. “I said that’s enough, Mark!” “I don’t care.” Mark muttered under his breath, if Cecil weren’t watching hi , he wouldn’t have known Mark even spoke. He deserves it, he deserves it, he deserves it.. The thought ran through his mind countless times over.

“You’re going to kill him!” Then let him die. He couldn’t stop the thoughts. He knew he was in the wrong but he couldn’t care less. He was about to hit the bleeding man again before he felt Rex secure his wrist. He could barely hold Mark but he still tried. “What the fuck is up with you? You need to calm down, man.” Rex yelled, Mark just yanked his arm, standing up to fly away. He was in the sky before anyone could even blink. The wind brushing through his hair as the sun hurt his eyes but he didn’t care. He was too pissed off to. “What the hell was that, Mark? I should arrest you for attempted murder!” The all-too-familiar voice rang in his ears once more, even more irritated than more. “He tried to hurt them.” Mark whispered. “Who?” You.

The man was one of your college classmates. He planned to freeze the whole school building because he claims his suspension appeal had been 'unfairly' dismissed. He had been charged with sexual harassment more than twice. The school didn't want to taint their record so they suspended him. He didn't like that though, he wanted to kill all the teachers there, which would end up killing you too. “He deserved it.” That was all Mark had to say before Cecil started again. “I’m benching you. You’re a liability so get your act together. I don’t want this to have to be permanent.” He ended the call. When Mark heard the dial, he pulled out the piece from his ear, crushing it before letting it fall to the ground.

—

“I was in a fight. I didn’t want to wait to do this anymore, I needed to see you again.” He whispered onto your knee, his hands holding your calf. You could feel the shards of ice scratch your skin but you didn’t say anything. “You’re cold, Mark.. Do you want me to make you something to drink?” Mark looked surprised at your hospitality. Nodding his head, he made way for you to get up. You came back with a tray holding two mugs filled with hot chocolate. You saw Mark sitting on your bed, holding his own hand as he waited patiently. You placed the tray by your night stand and let him take his drink for himself. “Are you hurt?” “No.” So, it wasn't even his blood. “You need to take a shower. You're staining my sheets. I have some of your extra clothes in my closet.” That’s all you said, hoping you didn't make a mistake.

☆ 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩. ©◞✶ envyi5envious

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Where Soft Things Grow 🌱 [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 6.8k

summary: when Bob's therapist asks him to find an activity that will help him gain some control, he's forced to turn to you. That's just the first step in a series of events he never thought would happen.

masterlist

warnings: mental health (yk, canon stuff)

It had been almost a year since the last big mission. Since the previous time someone ended up in the hospital, or any of you were trapped in your own silence for weeks.

Bob was better. Not well, not completely. But better.

At the recommendation—and insistence—of the entire team, he had started going to therapy. It wasn't easy. It took him months to accept that he needed to talk to someone who didn't carry a gun or know his traumas firsthand.

So his therapist asked him to choose a recurring activity. Something nonviolent. Something he could maintain consistently, even on bad days.

Bob thought about learning to cook, write, draw… but nothing really convinced him.

Ultimately, he ended up in a corner of the tower, with three pots, two bags of soil, and a defeated expression: so, gardening it was. He had bought plants, not seeds, because he thought it would be easier that way. He followed the shop assistant's recommendations a bit: he bought mint, lavender, and basil.

He'd never had a plant in his life and hadn't even read an article about it, but he tried to remain as positive as possible. After all, that was the goal, wasn't it? With a little practice, he could learn, and besides, he figured it shouldn't be too difficult to achieve.

What he didn't understand was that plants didn't survive on just care and excess water. Bob watered every morning, without fail. Sometimes out of anxiety, other times out of fear of forgetting, other times because he convinced himself he was doing the right thing. After a week of this routine, the most logical thing happened: the mint turned yellow, the lavender wilted, and the poor basil gave up without a fight.

He stood in front of the pots, his brow furrowed, his hands caked with damp soil. His fingers trembled slightly as they clumsily plucked the withered leaves. For a moment, he considered simply throwing them away. Buying new ones. Pretending things had never gone wrong.

But that wasn't what they had asked of him in therapy.

"It's not about making it perfect," his therapist had told him, with that calmness that made him a little uncomfortable. "It's about allowing yourself to fail, and moving on. About caring, even when you don't know how."

Then, for some strange reason, he thought of you.

You once mentioned that you liked plants, having grown up with a mother who took care of them a ton. You might know a thing or two about that, so, without giving it much thought, he went looking for you.

He wandered around for a while until he found you in the shared kitchen, sitting on one of the stools. You had a steaming mug in your hands, and he hesitated before speaking.

"Hey," he finally said, his voice softer than usual, "Do you have a moment?"

You nodded, putting the cup aside and approaching cautiously.

"Hi. You okay?"

Bob shrugged uncomfortably. He hadn't dared mention his project to anyone, for fear of feeling overly scrutinized or pressured. But now, in front of you, his nails were still stained with dirt and the smell of dead basil permeated his T-shirt. He felt ridiculous.

"I'm… trying this plant-care thing," he began, sounding a little frustrated. "My therapist recommended it. But it was supposed to be easy."

You frowned, curious.

"Easy?"

He gave a short laugh, with a hint of embarrassment.

"She told me to choose a consistent activity, so I bought three plants. But I killed them in a week."

"Which plants?"

"Mint, basil and lavender"

"Hmm, they’re whimsical…" you murmured, clicking your tongue, more to yourself than to him. "Can I see them?"

He nodded almost immediately, and then the two of you set off, walking to the space he'd selected for his little project. As soon as you arrived, he noticed you scanning everything around you. Then you knelt to touch the withered leaves and damp earth.

When you stood up, you delivered a verdict:

"They’re too wet”

"But they need water," he replied in bewilderment.

Seeing him so lost touched you slightly and you smiled at him, understanding.

"How many times have you watered them?"

"Every morning"

"Oh! No, honey. You're drowning them. Not only do they need to be watered so often, it depends on the plant. They also need space, light, and rest. Just like you."

Although your voice came out kind, he felt annoyed with himself.

"This is stupid, I'll try something else."

"No, Bob. Don't be discouraged. Gardening is… it's a very good strategy for what your therapist is looking for. It requires time, care, discipline, and above all, patience." You emphasized the last word, making him smile. "What do you say I help you? We'll buy some new plants, and I'll tell you how to take care of them."

"Would you do that?"

"Of course. Especially if this can help you in your process. You'll see how much you'll grow fond of it over time."

After that conversation, he felt more encouraged about it. He thought maybe sharing it with you would get him more involved, as he felt a certain commitment to not letting you down. Plus, he enjoyed spending time with you.

That same afternoon, you went to a nursery, with plants completely different from the ones he'd bought at the supermarket. They looked more vibrant, with bright colors and a fresh, lively look.

While there, you explained to him which ones were best suited for indoors—because yes, he didn't know there were plants for both indoors and outdoors—and then he chose all shapes and sizes. Maybe he was being superficial, but again, the criterion for choosing was appearance.

When you returned, it was no longer just three sad flowerpots, but you entered the tower carrying a wooden box full of vegetation, fertilizer, a set of gardening tools, and a metal watering can.

"What are you two up to?"

Bucky and Yelena were sitting in the living room, watching you with a strange interest. They were probably discussing important matters, a mission or something along those lines. You simply told them it was Bob's assignment and then slipped off down the hall, motivated to set up the small green area.

"Plants need different things. Some require more water, more light, more time in the shade…"

As you explained, he arranged the pots around the space, listening attentively to your words. The patio was somewhat small, but spacious enough to function.

"They're like people. Each one likes something different, behaves differently, or has different roles..."

"You know, I chose gardening without much thought, but now I'm thinking I might tell all this to my therapist when she asks me why. Would you write it down for me?"

Bob was cute and kind, but now and then he would make jokes that always made you laugh.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I must sound crazy."

"No! I didn't mean that, no. I'm just saying it would make a lot more sense for me to explain it that way than to simply justify it by saying I thought it would be the easiest activity."

With a smile, you looked at him for a moment. Then you placed the pot of dying lavender in his hands.

"This one's for you. First lesson, lavender needs lots of sun. Put it in your bedroom window."

"Can it be saved?"

"Everything can be saved, Bob. You just need to give it a chance."

The man felt that action was poetic. Would you maintain that attitude toward everything? Even him?

"You're… you're very good to me. Thank you."

That caught you off guard, though it didn't seem strange to you. He had this habit of thanking you for everything, as if you were doing him a favor by treating him decently.

From then on, the garden played two important roles: a space of stillness and order for Bob and a quiet way for the rest of the team to coexist with him.

"Looks good."

"You think so?" he asked Yelena, who was watching him from the doorway.

Now he watered the plants once or twice a week, as you had instructed. You had even helped him design a schedule that he kept posted on the wall, to ease his anxiety about forgetting.

"Yes, I mean it. I brought you something, by the way."

The woman handed him a ceramic pot.

"A cactus?"

"Yes. This one doesn't die if you forget to water it."

The gesture warmed your friend's heart, and he made sure to put the pot—small enough to fit in just one hand—in a pretty spot. He assumed it needed sunlight and little water. Later, he checked with you to be sure.

That corner soon became Bob's adoration, obsessed with learning and taking the best possible care of his little garden.

You made compost with organic waste, you taught him how to prune, and he even had his own crop of medicinal or edible plants, which more than once managed to save the day.

“Fuck!"

"What's wrong, Walker?"

"This recipe calls for rosemary. And we don't have any."

"Take it from my garden," chimed in Bob, who was sitting on the couch trying to put together a puzzle.

"Which garden?"

"The one I have downstairs. It's a task my therapist gave me. It helps me relax and so on."

John looked at him, incredulous.

"And do you have rosemary in that place?"

"Mhm. Rosemary, basil, mint, thyme, cilantro…"

He mentally reviewed the list and then swore he saw the soldier's face light up, probably already working on a couple of recipes. From that moment on, he became the official supplier of herbs within the tower. Anyone who was cooking and needed a condiment, or who fancied a medicinal tea, came to him.

On another occasion, Ava had heard murmurings in the hallway. She thought it was an intruder, then she thought Bob was having a breakdown, and when she got closer, she finally found him chatting excitedly. However, upon closer inspection, she realized he was alone.

"I didn't imagine you as someone who talks to plants."

The woman surprised him and he, logically, jumped into his own place. Then he smiled at her.

"Hi. I read somewhere it helps them grow. Honestly, I think it's helping me more than them."

"Well, if talking to them keeps you sane, then keep talking to them."

A soft chuckle escaped his chest as he stroked the leaves like one would stroke a pet.

"I discovered that plants are less complicated than people, anyway. That's why I like spending time with them."

"Well, it smells like my grandmother's patio."

Even if they joked around, everyone in the tower just let Bob be. If he was comfortable with the activity and it got him out of the darkness of his room, it was fine with them.

But to be honest, you were the one who was enjoying this hobby of his the most. In your free time, you went there hoping to find him, and from time to time, you helped him rearrange his pots, since some followed Yelena's example and bought plants from him whenever they could.

One of those days, you were immersed in your work when you heard Bob speak:

"You know, just being here makes this whole place feel different. More beautiful."

You laughed.

"Are you talking to that plant or are you talking to me?"

"Both. But you don't need that much sunlight."

You stopped turning the humus in the soil to watch him, surprised by his response to your joke. But Bob seemed to say that as if it were natural, for he didn't flinch in the least at your gaze; he continued pruning with the same delicacy and concentration as always. The mere thought of him thinking that about your presence made you blush, and although you tried to continue working, your concentration was disrupted considerably.

One day, however, the inevitable happened.

Your friend hadn't had an episode for a while, but something—you didn't know what—managed to unsettle him. It wasn't immediate or explosive. There were no screams, no blows, no prolonged absences. It was more like a fog that slowly settled over him, dulling his calm glow.

At first, no one noticed. Bob was still just as attentive, just as polite. But he stopped eating with the others. He became quieter, more methodical, more isolated. Yelena was the first to frown when he turned down a card game. Bucky said nothing, but watched him out of the corner of his eye with silent concern. John, on the other hand, was more direct:

"Everything okay, Bobby?"

"Excellent," he replied, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Ava left some snacks in the cupboard. Alexei offered to help him with an installation that clearly didn't need any help. Everyone noticed, in their own way. But no one found a suitable way in.

Except you.

Or maybe you were just in the right place when the lights stayed on past midnight.

From the common room, you could see, through the hallway windows, the warm light from Bob's room. It wasn't unusual for him to stay up late—he hadn't slept much in years—but there was something about the way that light didn't flicker, about the static shadow behind the curtain, that gave you a hunch.

So you walked up to his door and knocked softly.

"Bob?"

Nothing.

"Can I come in?"

You thought maybe he had just fallen asleep with the lights on, or maybe he just didn't want to talk to anyone. A few seconds later, as you were about to leave, you heard his footsteps shuffling toward the door.

When he opened your eyes, his eyes were red-rimmed, and the dark circles under them were more pronounced than usual. What worried you was that he didn't try to fake it. He didn't try to smile, or straighten up. He just stepped aside to let you in.

The room was messy. Not in a catastrophic sense, but the signs were there: clothes on the chair, a forgotten cup, books piled up as if he'd tried—in vain—to read one.

"No sleep?"

"I was finishing some things," you replied simply. You knew what he was trying to do; he wanted to divert attention from himself. "Do you want to talk about this?"

"Talk about what?" he asked. He wasn't looking at you.

You remained silent, and so did he. But you didn't move a muscle, making it clear that you didn't intend to leave, even if he didn't say a word. You would stay there and keep him company. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched. Defeated.

He was slow to respond.

"I don't know. I just… felt bad. Not because of anything specific, I just think it built up."

You sat down next to him. You didn't say anything. You just listened to him take a deep breath.

"I thought I was better," he continued. "And I am. But sometimes it all comes back. And it's like my body remembers before my mind does."

You didn't hug him. Not yet. But you moved your leg closer to his, letting him feel your presence. It was Bob who leaned toward you, placing his head on your shoulder.

"Do you want me to say something or would you prefer that I not?"

"I don't want to talk. Just stay."

You spent several minutes like that, in silence. At some point, he closed his eyes, exhausted, and although he didn't fall asleep, it seemed like his body was finally letting go of something it had been carrying for days.

At some point, you slipped your hand into his, which he gladly accepted. The way your thumb caressed his knuckles made him feel calmer, as if he could focus on that instead of his own thoughts.

"You need to rest"

"I can't. I tried, but I can't."

"But you must do it."

Your tone, though firm, tried to be as empathetic as possible. Suddenly, your gaze fell on the flowerpot resting on the windowsill, and an idea popped into your mind.

Bob looked devastated when you stood up from your seat.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll get you something to help you sleep, okay? Wait a minute."

As a farewell, you brushed his hair with your fingers and he nodded without saying anything.

You then went to the kitchen, where a jar full of already dried lavender flowers rested –product of the garden, of course– you placed them in the infuser and it went straight to the fire.

Then you went to your room. The bottle of oil you used on some sleepless nights rested on one of the shelves, and you took the opportunity to put on a hoodie, since for some reason Bob's room felt frigid. As if it reflected the mood of its occupant.

When you returned—cup in hand—you found him in the same position, almost as if he hadn't noticed your absence. His gaze was lost, a hint of sadness shining in his tired eyes.

"Hey"

"You won't be able to sleep if you have all the lights on, for starters," you smiled. You then adjusted the lighting to amber. "Drink this."

Bob took the cup without saying anything, but his fingers brushed yours as he did so. He stared at the contents for a few seconds, then brought the rim to his lips and drank… too quickly.

"It's hot!"

"I noticed," he murmured, his lips parted, rubbing the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

You couldn't help but laugh, your tone soft and not inviting mockery. He imitated you.

"Let me see," you said, leaning in a little closer, as if you could actually do something about it. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"I'm fine,"

"Be more careful."

Bob responded with a faint smile before bringing the cup to his lips and gently blowing on the drink, as if that slow gesture might also soothe the turmoil inside his chest. Meanwhile, you poured a few drops of the oil onto your fingertips and then knelt in front of him, occupying the space between his legs. Your knees gently touched the carpet, and your hands, delicate but determined, rose to brush away a few unruly strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. You touched him with an almost ceremonial tenderness, stroking his temples as if each stroke brought some relief.

Bob let out a long, weary sigh. The warm scent of the oil—lavender, or maybe something with sandalwood—drifted softly into his senses, and within seconds his eyelids fluttered closed, overcome by the contrast between the warmth of your touch and the coolness the ointment left on his skin. His body began to relax, releasing the tension built up in his shoulders, neck, jaw... but his heart, that traitor, only raced.

He felt your proximity like a magnetic field: the warmth of your thighs, the calm cadence of your breathing, the barely perceptible touch of your fingers as they slid closer to his cheekbones. You were too close, and yet, not close enough.

If he leaned in a little—just a little—his nose would touch yours. He didn't.

"Have you finished your tea?"

Your voice broke the warm bubble that enveloped him and anchored him back to the room. Bob blinked, disoriented for a second, reminding himself that this was all part of an attempt to get him to sleep. So he feigned normalcy. He nodded slowly as you walked away, leaving an invisible gap in the air that he instantly felt.

He held the mug in his hands for a moment longer, as if the warmth trapped in the ceramic could fill the emptiness you left in his chest. Then he took a sip and placed it on the nightstand, next to the remnants of possibilities.

Suddenly, his movements became slower, almost mechanical, as if his body were finally beginning to give in to a tiredness he'd been ignoring for days. And you stood there, staring at him without intruding. The room had that kind of silence that comes only after a storm: a soft echo of what hurt, but also the promise that everything will calm down.

"You should sleep too," he said, softly and quietly.

His eyes remained open. Not because he wasn't sleepy, but because he was still watching you.

It was a silent gaze, without expectations or intention to disturb. But there was something about it—the way his eyelids softened, the way the corners of his lips slightly curved, the way he looked at you as if you were the only certainty he had at that moment—that overflowed with tenderness. An adoration so deep he didn't seem to realize he was letting it show.

"Yeah. I'll go to my room when you're asleep," you replied, unconcerned.

Something stirred inside him. Not physically, but inside. That sentence struck a soft blow to his chest. He didn't want you to leave. He didn't want to be alone when the silence returned with all its weight. But he didn't want to say it out loud either.

How do you ask for something like that? How can you ask someone to stay, to share a bed with you just to ward off the shadow of loneliness?

He thought about thanking you and staying silent. He thought about accepting that small consolation without risking more. But just as the thought began to hurt him a little inside, you looked at him with the same gentleness with which he looked at you and asked:

"Would it make you feel better if I stayed?"

And it was as if you'd read his soul. Bob blinked once, surprised at how quickly his chest filled with something warm. He nodded with unexpected, almost awkward energy, as if yes had won out over restraint.

"Yes. Yes... please."

"Do you have a blanket to put on the floor?"

"What? No! No need. You can sleep in the bed… huh, only if you want to."

A smile crossed your face, and then you moved first, as if you understood perfectly. You silently took off your shoes and settled on the side closest to the wall. He took a little longer, as if he was doubting whether that was really possible. But he lay down.

The mattress was narrow, and although neither of you sought contact, the closeness was inevitable. Your breathing began out of sync, but gradually found a similar rhythm. The room, with its warm light and soft shadows, no longer felt so cold.

Bob kept his eyes open for a while, fixed on a spot on the ceiling. He seemed to be trying to record the way everything felt: the scent of oil still hanging in the air, the distant murmur of the city beyond the windows, the nearby warmth of someone who wasn't running away from their sadness. The sensation was strange, not because it was uncomfortable, but because it was new. And newness, for someone like him, usually came with scars.

He thought of nights past, in beds where there was only a thick silence, where darkness felt like a threat. Of the years when insomnia was the only constant and abrupt awakenings were confused with fragments of a blurred childhood. There had never been anyone who came into his room to check on him. There had never been a cup of something hot or hands on his temples to help him calm down. That's why this was too much. Almost unbearable, so intimate.

And yet, there you were. You didn't push, you didn't say more than necessary. You were just there. And that, while it disarmed him, also sustained him. He didn't understand how, but your presence slowed down his chaotic psyche.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes, calm down. Are you?"

"Better than ever"

He didn't turn toward you. He didn't reach for your hand. But he knew, with a certainty he couldn't explain, that if he woke up in the middle of the night, you'd still be there. And that, for someone like him, was something of a miracle.

He fell asleep before he realized it. Not with the depth of someone who has never known fear, but with the peace of someone who, for the first time, is not alone with his ghosts.

That day was etched in his memory as one of those nights that don't seem extraordinary at first, but which, over time, take on a different meaning. It wasn't what you said or what you did. It was everything you didn't say. What you left hanging in the air, in the comfortable silences, in the way the warm light seemed to embrace the space between your bodies.

From then on, something changed. Slowly, without any big announcements, Bob began to walk differently. It wasn't obvious to everyone, but you noticed. On good days, his voice sounded clearer; on bad days, he no longer isolated himself completely. There was a kind of new pulse beating beneath his usual stillness. A faint thread that kept him more present.

Little by little, he resumed a more consistent rhythm in his life. Not perfect, not linear, but steadier. He slept better. He allowed himself to be accompanied. And although he still preferred brief conversations, he began to offer you small gestures that spoke louder than any words. His presence felt lighter, less cornered by the weight of the world.

And then there was the garden. That green corner, once merely a clumsy attempt at his therapy, became a reflection of everything he was trying to rebuild. The plants were more organized, more alive. Now and then, you find new shoots you didn't remember seeing before. Pots with freshly turned soil were rearranged; he had even started planting his seeds instead of buying the plants.

One ordinary afternoon—after one of those workouts that left your muscles crying out for respite—you took a long, leisurely shower. The steam washed away the exhaustion from your body, and for a while you thought about nothing. When you stepped out, the towel still hanging around your neck and your damp hair sticking to your skin, the first thing you saw upon entering the kitchen was your water bottle on the table… and next to it, a small bouquet.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

There was no note. Just the flowers: a modest handful, wrapped in brown paper, with no need to look perfect. A few marigolds opened as if they'd caught the sun, a couple of sprigs of still-fresh lavender, and in the center, two white begonias.

You gently ran your fingers over the petals, as if afraid of ruining the gesture. For a second, a very stupid one, it didn't occur to you who had done such a thing.

"And that?" Yelena murmured, next to you. She had also showered and was looking for something to chew on.

"They were… next to my water bottle. They just appeared."

"Huh, what a mystery."

"I know," you murmured sincerely, not having noticed the sarcasm in your friend's voice. She looked at you for a second, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. "What?"

“You seriously don't know who gave them to you?”

"Yours?" you tried your luck. She laughed, with that characteristic raspy sound, and shook her head in amusement.

"Maybe it is a mystery. If only we knew someone who took up gardening recently and practically kisses the ground you walk on…"

Suddenly, everything clicked. And you felt stupid for not having figured it out sooner.

"Bob?"

"I highly doubt Bucky is the romantic type. And Walker… well, he's Walker."

You remained silent. You knew that even a single syllable from your lips would condemn you forever, and you didn't want Yelena to know about your feelings so soon. You had to talk to him first.

"Huh, yeah, I think you're right. I'll put them in my room then. See you."

"Your room is across the hall…" she observed, smiling mischievously.

The worst part? She was right.

"Yeah! I'm just going to get something I… forgot in the training room."

The blonde didn't buy a word of your poor lie and made sure to remember the situation so she could annoy you in the future.

You walked quickly until you reached the door of his room. You knocked, but no one answered. You assumed he was probably in the garden, so you went there, certain you'd find him watering the garden or simply admiring the surroundings. The smile you had on your face was replaced by a frown. He wasn't there either. Had he left the tower? Maybe to buy something, you thought, although it wasn't logical.

You wandered through a few floors, hoping to run into him in one of the hallways, but it was all in vain. It was just you and the modest flowers you were holding. Finally, an unknown force whispered in your ear that he might be on the roof. It was a secluded spot you sometimes used to do things off camera—which Valentina monitored and watched like a psycho—so you thought it would be good to check. After all, you had nothing to lose if he wasn't there either.

As you stepped out, the drafts hit your ears and ruffled your hair. It took only a few steps to see his figure, near the shore in a contemplative pose with his arms crossed, as if he were hugging himself.

Of course he realized he was no longer alone, but when he turned and saw you, his expression softened considerably.

"How did you find me?"

"Were you hiding?"

Your question caught him off guard, and so he didn't say anything. You walked over to stand beside him.

"For someone afraid of heights, this doesn't seem like the best place."

"I like to see the sky. I try not to look down."

A chuckle escaped you. Bob looked at what you were holding and then pretended he hadn't.

"Look what I found. No note, no nothing."

"And do you like them?"

"Of course, they're beautiful. I wonder if it was Alexei, he's usually cheesy."

His brow furrowed. You stifled a laugh at his obvious annoyance.

"Do you think they're cheesy?"

"Coming from him, yes. If someone else were responsible, it would be… sweet. Even romantic, I think."

The look you shared was one of complicity. He knew you knew, but neither of you wanted to dare be the first to speak. So, when there were no words, he decided to reach out his hand to reach yours; a trembling, delicate, and experimental touch.

His fears evaporated when you smiled and leaned a little closer, forcing him to embrace you. His free arm cupped your lower back, and the flowers in your other hand wound up on his back. Suddenly, the chill in the air was overshadowed by the body heat you were suddenly sharing.

"I would have liked to give them to you in person, but… I think I was a little afraid."

"Why would you be afraid?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe you wouldn't like them."

"I was going to like them anyway, Bob. Only because you're the one giving them to me," you swore. Against your hair, he suppressed a smile. "Where did you get them?"

"I took care of them"

"But I didn't see them in the garden."

"It's just that I don't have them there. I put them somewhere else to… well, you know. To surprise you” you smiled. "I wanted to give you something nice as a thank you for everything you've done for me."

You pulled away, just a little, to look into his eyes. He was so tall that, if he'd wanted, he could have kissed you on the forehead.

"That's what friends do: support each other. You don't need to thank me for anything."

"But I wanted to. Maybe it's not much, but…"

"Don't say that," you interrupted. "These flowers are a symbol of the progress you've made. They need sun, water, soil, companionship, care… just like you. You keep them alive because you love them, and because at the same time, they lift you, even on bad days."

For a second, Bob felt like this didn't just apply to his garden. He wasn't a great connoisseur of love, yet he knew he loved you. And you were the reason he was getting better; the mere thought of being with you was what got him out of bed on days when he just wanted to lie there until he became nothing.

Perhaps he was lost in those thoughts for too long, because all you caught was his intense gaze on you. A soft whisper from your lips brought him back to reality.

"Come a little closer."

The phrase was gentle, but laden with something that made the world shrink at that instant. He obeyed, almost without thinking, and you, on tiptoe, leaned your face toward his. The gesture wasn't invasive, it didn't exert any pressure, and it wasn't meant to be intense. It was simply a kiss, gentle and delicate.

"Is this okay?"

Your voice was barely a murmur between his lips, but Bob felt it in the center of his chest, as if something inside him had suddenly loosened. He didn't know how to respond. Any words he could utter seemed too clumsy, too small for what he was feeling.

So instead of speaking, he leaned over you, demanding a much-needed kiss. Your small sigh caught between your mouths, and that was all the permission he needed. Your arms rose to surround him, and Bob's hands—large, honest, trembling—slid down your sides with an almost reverent slowness, stopping just short of crossing the line of caution.

You didn't believe he could kiss you with such passion, as if he needed your breath to live. Suddenly, everything became a chorus of lip smacking, sighs, and stifled breaths that died in each other's throats. The scent of the flowers, the natural aroma of your bodies, and the taste of the man were making you completely dizzy.

"Fucking Jesus Christ!"

The scream forced you to immediately break away, and then you saw John and Ava standing right in front of you. Both of their faces were twisted in an expression that combined surprise and disgust.

"What are you doing here, you perverts?"

"What are you doing here?" you countered. Bob was too flushed to form a coherent sentence.

"We came to smoke some weed. Bucky doesn't like us doing it inside, and Alexei forbade us."

"Why were you two swallowing each other?"

"That's none of your business, Ava. If you don't say anything, we'll just walk away and not say anything."

You offered no other options, as you barely finished speaking when you took Bob's hand and led him toward the door leading back to the apartment. The door closed with a dull creak behind you, and the echo of laughter lingered up above, floating on the cold drafts. You walked down the steps in silence, walking quickly but awkwardly, as if neither of you knew quite where to put your feet or what to say.

Once on the ground floor, the two of you stopped halfway down. Bob's face was still red up to his ears and he couldn't look at you directly. You, for your part, weren't immune either: adrenaline was still pumping in your temples, but beneath it was a smile you couldn't quite contain.

"Well…" you began, clearing your throat, as if trying to regain some composure.

"That was…" Bob tried, but then he scratched the back of his neck and let out a sigh that barely contained a laugh. "Unexpected. And very… public."

"Yes. Although technically we were alone. Until we weren't."

Bob gave a short, low laugh, as if he didn't know whether to laugh or hide under a table.

"I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to look them in the eye again."

"Relax, I'll take care of the looks. Just stay alive."

He looked at you then. Finally. As if humor didn't diminish the value of everything he'd felt up there, in that overwhelming moment. And you saw something in his eyes: a deep gratitude, a shy but real affection, and a hint of fear, as if he still found it hard to believe this was really happening.

"About that, I… I think I got excited and… sorry if it was too much…"

"Bob."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

You laughed again, more freely this time, and so did he. The atmosphere between you lightened, as if you'd both let out something you'd been holding in for a long time. Suddenly, the laughter ended, and you two stared at each other again like a pair of fools in love.

"I have to make sure I thank my therapist."

"Why?"

"Because if she hadn't forced me to find a damn hobby, I probably wouldn't have kissed you like I just did."

A blush spread across your face. Then you laughed.

"Let's just say it was faster. Because eventually, it would have happened."

"You think so?"

"I know it, handsome."

Suddenly, it was as if things had changed, but at the same time, the chemistry between you was still as strong as the first time. He was your friend, after all, and you were his.

Bob knew he shouldn't rely on someone's affection or presence to be okay, but honestly, knowing that you reciprocated his feelings and wanted to continue spending time with him became a powerful incentive.

"Do you want us to accuse them with Bucky?"

"John and Ava?"

"I think telling Alexei would be more humiliating for them, right? He'd probably lecture them for hours and search their rooms."

"But we said we wouldn't tell anyone…"

Bob's honesty and the way he looked at you, concerned, made you smile. He could be so sweet sometimes.

"I assure you they'd do the same for us. At least we'll have an advantage. Come on, let's go."

"Wait," he said. He had gently grabbed your wrist to keep you there. "One and that's it."

You didn't need to ask what he meant, because his lips crashing against yours gave you the answer. Although it was brief, the contact maintained the passionate spirit of a few minutes before.

"Will this become a habit?"

"You don't want to?"

He sounded scared. Even disappointed, you dare say. A sly smile spread across your face. You looked at him calmly, as if you wanted to make sure he was really listening to you.

"I asked you because I wanted to know if this… if what just happened… is something you want too. Not because I don't want it."

Bob didn't say anything at first. His eyes moved between yours, as if trying to read between the lines, decipher if there was anything else hidden. But your expression was transparent. You were being honest.

"So…" he murmured, "why ask?"

"Because I care about you. Because I don't want this to become something that just happened on impulse, for a nice night, because of everything we've been dragging along. I don't want you to kiss me just because you were feeling grateful or vulnerable."

That last word hung in the air, but you didn't back down. He held it in silence. His lips pressed slightly together, and when he answered, his voice was deep and steady.

"It wasn't because of that."

You nodded, though you didn't let your guard down completely.

"I had to make sure"

Bob took a deep breath. Then, with a gesture that was clumsier than calculated, he took your hand again, as if he still needed confirmation that you were there, that you hadn't wandered off.

"I'm not good at this. I don't have much experience… in consciously choosing someone. In staying when things get real."

"That doesn't scare me," you said. "As long as you don't run away if I become real."

That response drew a brief, dry but genuine laugh from him. He looked at you as if he'd just seen you for the first time, as if your openness made him understand that you weren't expecting a perfect story. Just a shared story.

"Then yes," he said finally. "I want it to last. If you want it too."

You gave him an approving smile, and then he tried to walk down the hall. It was you who stopped him this time.

"One and done,"

You kissed him again, more briefly this time, but with every intention in the world. Then you took his hand naturally, as if it were something you'd always done.

And even though you didn't say anything else, the way you walked together was enough to understand that you would strive to overcome whatever came. Together.

[angelltheninth]

Blinder Than the Blind

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, injury, working together, teammates, first kiss, Bucky is bad at feelings

Word count: 1.2k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Every time I see him I love him just a little bit more. It's not just me is it? I know it's not.

You went on many missions before you went on one with Bucky, The Winter Soldier and kind of your mentor. It was a little annoying because the man was only a few years older then you, well not counting the experiments, and he treated you like a rookie. Going through field training with him was one thing, you could mouth off to him there, but in the helicopter, on the field you recognized stealth and your mission as the priority.

Bucky would never say he was picking on you but he did seem to keep a closer eye on you the most. During daytime it was annoying as hell, but during nighttime you found other uses for his heated gaze.

Another thing you would never admit to him, your massive crush on him.

What started as more of a hero crush, with him being someone you looked up to a lot, devolved into annoyance really fast and came back full force as what often manifested as lust. Thank god he always called you for missions cause you would not handle him hearing the way you moaned his name.

“Bucky, I’m fine. I mean, sir, I’m fine.” You giggled at him as he set you down on the medical bed, your head spinning from the blood loss. “Hey, does it do anything for you? When you get called sir?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you and resumed reading the report of your admision, not that he had to but he wasn’t going to entertain this flirting from an injured and clearly delirious teammate. “No. But it seems like you don’t know the meaning of the word either. Why rush head first like that? You know where the drop zone was, you jumped before we reached it.” Bucky’s face hardened as he leaned forward in his chair and made a gun motion with his metal hand, “If I hadn’t jumped right after you it could have ended badly.”

That, it was that attitude that irked you. That better then anyone else, superiority complex of his. “So its rules for thee but not for me? Cause I’ve seen you jump off before, I’ve seen you storm a building by yourself, how is that not reckless?” Every time he acted that way your heart would stop for a moment before you remembered-

“I’ve done this since before you were born. It wasn’t pretty, or safe, but I learned how to be good at it. You don’t have the luxury of that. I’m sorry, but you’re off duty for the rest of the week.” Even the pain medication you were on couldn’t help how pissed off you felt at him at this moment. If you weren’t scared it would break your hand you would have punched him on his shoulder. “You’re angry.”

“Oh? What gave you that idea?” You rolled your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to gather your thoughts and feelings, “At least I finally got your attention.”

“What?” Bucky’s responce was lightning fast and shocked, his eyes wide, the papers falling to the med bed.

“Did I just say that out loud?” All the color drained from your face at the realization. Forget the mission, forget the heroics, you just wanted to get snapped out of existence. Or to another universe, anything as long as you didn’t have to stay here in this moment.

Bucky did pay attention to you, but it always when you least wanted him to. “You did this for my attention? Do you think I don’t care about you? Are you blind as well as incapable of following orders?” His voice was rising but not with anger, with fear and worry from your words. It all looked the same to you because, you’d never seen Bucky worried about you.

When you didn’t answer him he leaned back and sighed into his hand, other reaching for your hand. Despite it being colder then your own skin you didn’t move from the contact, although it was far from the reaction you expected. The silence stretched for several minutes, neither of you daring to break it.

“I don’t need your pity, sir. And I don’t need you to treat me like I can’t handle myself on missions.”

“You really are blind, no that would be an insult to a lawyer I know. Real asshole but he can clearly see the things in front of him, he can read people like no other. You?” He chuckled, not quite mocking but you didn’t know how else to read it, “You wouldn’t get it if I spelled it out for you.”

“I also don’t appreciate you thinking I’m stupid, sir.” You grit the last word though your teeth, “Why don’t you try me?” You grabed his hand, pulling him towards you, a taunt you thought he wouldn’t answer.

But he did.

He answered loud and clear, with his lips on your, with his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face like you’d break under him.

He was right. You didn’t understand. “You... kissed me just now?” Your whole world was turned on its head, this whole time you were under the impression that Bucky hated your guts. To be fair, he might, you heard of people hooking up while not actually liking each other, to get the frustrations out. This didn’t feel like that, there was no anger behind that kiss, no frustration, in fact that was the most gentle you’ve witnessed Bucky be.

“I did. Tell me what your conclusion is, when they let you out of here.” His touch lingered for as long as possible, your cheeks burning when his hands fell away. Well shit.

You were absolutely unable to focus on anything the doctor was saying other then when she said you were free to go. In that case you were fine. Right? Wrong. That kiss made your head spin more then the injury itself. Almost enough to make you forget about it all together. Okay, you can figure this out. Bucky liked you. Your heart told you that, your head refused to accept it.

As you walked out of the medical bay you saw him waiting beside the entrance, a worried look on his face. His eyes lifted up to see you, looking well. He was barely able to hide his relived sigh. Well earlier you had the energy to argue with him so you must not have been that bad, still he showed you just how much, and in what way, he cared for you.

“Ready to go?” He didn’t seem to want to address the kiss from earlier, instead he offered you his gloved hand as he stood up, waiting.

Your felt a tightness inside your chest. You could walk past him, you could never speak of the kiss again, you could yell at him for it, you could go back home and yell at yourself for not seeing he cared about you all this time. Or you could simply take his hand. The last one was the choice you want with, and without saying a word, with a gentle smile from Bucky as you took your place by his side you started your walk back to your place.

[jijournal]

Hello! Your Draco fic with the charms was adorable I loved it! Can I request Draco x reader who’s also in Slytherin but is different from the rest of everyone and strange in a whimsical manner but still captures Draco’s heart please!

LITTLE MISS COLLECTOR | D.M

Summary: In which the strangest girl in Slytherin collects lost things in a heart-shaped box, and Draco Malfoy realizes she might be the only person who’s never truly lost herself.

cw: slytherin!reader x draco, slight verbal bullying.

wc: 1.2k

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I love this idea so much I immediately wrote it. I'm really glad you loved my "Charm Me Up" fic. Hope everyone will love this too!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Everyone in Slytherin thought you were strange, but not in the loud, unpredictable way that made people pay attention.

Your strangeness was quieter.

Softer.

Like you lived a few steps out of time with everyone else. You didn’t seek attention; if anything, you avoided it, walking the halls like a ghost who didn’t quite belong.

Your presence was marked by the delicate clink of a wooden, heart-shaped box that you carried everywhere instead of a satchel. Inside it, as rumor had it, were dozens of trinkets and oddities: broken jewelry, lost pins, empty perfume bottles, and other forgotten treasures no one else would bother keeping.

Some said you were mental. Others laughed and called you loony. Most didn’t bother to understand.

But Draco Malfoy never mocked you. In fact, he never said anything at all. He just watched you—curious, uncertain, and increasingly unable to look away.

At first, it was idle observation. You were a fellow Slytherin, after all, and an odd one at that. But soon, he found himself looking for you without thinking about it.

In the Great Hall, his eyes would drift down the table until they landed on you, sitting at the edge with a cup of tea cooling beside your untouched plate, your fingers gently turning over a silver button as though it carried the weight of memory.

During classes, he noticed how you never quite focused like everyone else. Your quill would pause mid-note as your eyes wandered toward a bit of ribbon caught on someone’s shoe or a leaf drifting in through the window.

There was a stillness to you that unnerved him—like you were always listening for something no one else could hear. And he couldn’t explain why, but that made him want to understand you even more.

It was during one of his late-night prefect patrols when he finally spoke to you. The castle was quiet, dimly lit by torches and streaks of moonlight falling through high windows. Most students were asleep, and Draco had already scolded two third-years for sneaking into the kitchens.

He was heading back to the dungeons when he saw you—half-shadowed at the end of the corridor, crouched beside a tapestry with your wooden heart-box resting beside you.

Your hands were curled around something small, something glinting faintly in the torchlight. He watched you for a moment before stepping closer, and when he spoke, his voice was more curious than accusatory.

“You know it’s past curfew, don’t you?”

You didn’t startle. Instead, you looked up at him with calm, unreadable eyes and said softly, “The castle doesn’t sleep. Why should I?”

Draco hesitated, thrown off by your answer.

He followed your gaze to the open corridor, the soft flicker of torchlight dancing on the ancient stones. Something about your words clung to him.

He nodded toward the box you carried. “Looking for more lost things?”

You nodded. “Always.”

There was no trace of shame or hesitation in your voice—only quiet conviction. When he asked why you did it, you didn’t answer with words.

Instead, you lifted the lid of the box and offered it to him. He stepped forward, peering inside at the collection nestled carefully within. It wasn’t junk, not to you.

Each item had been arranged with care—a cracked mirror, a torn glove, a ribbon with faded embroidery. And near the top, folded neatly, was a Slytherin tie.

His tie.

The one he’d ruined with ink weeks ago and tossed aside under a library bench. He reached for it slowly. “This was mine,” he said.

You nodded again. “I know.”

“Why’d you keep it?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Your fingers traced the edge of the tie as you said, “I keep everything that’s been left behind. Things deserve to be remembered, even when no one else cares.”

The words caught him off guard, landing heavier than they should have. He glanced at the other objects again, seeing them differently now. “But why?” he asked. “Why these things?”

You didn’t look at him when you answered. “Because they were once loved,” you said. “Even if only for a moment. I don’t like when things are left behind and no one remembers they mattered.”

Your voice was gentle, but Draco felt it all the same—like something twisting inside his chest.

Because suddenly he knew you weren't just talking about things. You were talking about people.

And maybe—though you didn’t say it—you were talking about him.

He didn’t know what to say after that. The silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable, but dense with things unsaid. Then you closed the lid of your box with a soft click and slipped past him into the shadows, your footsteps quiet against the stone. He stood there for a long time after you were gone.

Days passed, but Draco couldn’t get you out of his head. He found himself searching for you in hallways and between classes, his eyes darting toward any flicker of your presence.

It wasn’t obsession—at least not the dangerous kind. It was something quieter. Like he had found something he didn’t know he’d lost.

One evening, after dinner, he saw you leaving the Great Hall alone, the heart-box tucked carefully under your arm. Without thinking, he followed.

You walked with a calm kind of purpose, as if the castle spoke to you in ways no one else could hear. But before you could turn the corner, a voice cut through the hallway—sharp, mocking.

Urqheart. A seventh-year known for his cruelty and disdain toward anyone he didn’t understand. He stepped in front of you, sneering.

“What are you collecting tonight, little freak? Ghost tears? Bit of someone’s soul?”

You said nothing, only tried to move past him. But he grabbed the edge of your box and gave it a rough tug.

“Maybe I’ll take a look—see what rubbish you’re hoarding now.” That was all it took. Before Draco realized what he was doing, he stepped in, shoving Urqheart back with a glare so cold it could have frozen fire.

“Touch her again,” Draco said, his voice low and deadly, “and you’ll regret it.” Urqheart scowled, muttered a slur under his breath, but Draco didn’t move. Eventually, the older boy backed off, disappearing into the shadows.

You stood silently, your grip tight around the heart-box. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I did,” he replied without hesitation. There was a pause. Then, softly,

“You don’t think I’m loony?”

Draco turned to you, and for once, he really looked. At the way your hands shook slightly, at the way your eyes, always so distant, now shimmered with something unspoken.

“No,” he said. “I think you’re the only real thing in this whole place.”

You stopped walking. Slowly, you turned to face him. In the torchlight, your expression was unreadable, luminous. And when you spoke, your voice carried something ancient—something too heavy for your age.

“And I think,” you whispered, “if I had to be forgotten by the world, I’d still be glad I was remembered by you.”

Draco didn’t know how to answer you. But in that moment, as the castle breathed around them and the shadows stood still, he realized something terrifying and beautiful:

You had seen him—truly seen him—before he ever dared to see himself.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to be forgotten either.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[frequentlykit]

An Angel In Paris Pt2 - Lee Felix

Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Warnings: One or two swear words

Genre: Fluff

WC: 2.5k

Summary: Having not seen him in over a year, Felix gives you a surprise visit.

A/N please enjoy!

- Kit <3

Part 1 Part 3

[Paris, France | Sunday, 6:47 PM]

It had been over a year since you and Felix had met. While you hadn’t been able to see him in person, you’d become very close friends online, texting and video calling when you could and even playing games together. He loves sending you pictures of his new hair colors and styles as well as the outfits he got to wear. You found out pretty quickly what he did for work but gave no judgment and thought it was actually super cool.

He had supported you through your college exams and school stress while you gave him an outlet to escape from work, supporting him through tough moments. 

You’d even send each other care packages for birthdays or just for fun. The package he’d sent when you graduated contained a batch of brownies, a handmade bracelet(which you still wear everyday), a few skincare items that you wouldn’t have dreamed of buying for yourself, and a handwritten note. Not only from Felix but Chris as well.

It wasn’t like Felix not to text. Even a simple ‘how are you?’ or ‘good morning.’ But I’d been three days since you've last heard anything. You didn’t want to worry, you knew how crazy his schedule was, but you couldn’t help it. You’d texted Chris who thankfully informed you that they were traveling for work and everyone was still recovering, which put your mind at ease.

You weren’t expecting anyone when you hear a knock at your door, getting up from your desk you walk out into the hall and head towards the door. You go up on your toes to look into the peep hole, but someone was covering it. Okay that was shady.

“Y/N? Are you home?” A very familiar Australian accent came muffled through the door.

You threw it open.

“Felix!” You all but shriek as you run out of your apartment, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hi Angel!” You can hear the smile in his voice as she lifts you up and spins you around.

“What are you doing here!?”

Felix sets you down and you pull back, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I’m actually here for Paris Fashion Week but I couldn’t come to Paris without seeing my favorite person.”

"Are you serious? Felix, that's amazing! Come on, come inside,” you grab his hand and pull him inside your apartment, “Welcome to my chaotic abode.”

"Oh yeah, I've never been in here. Just seen the occasional picture," Felix looks around the loft as he follows you to the living room. He's a little surprised by the amount of color inside your home, considering how little color you tend to wear, "I like your décor."

You glance back at him and smile, “Thanks, my cousin is an interior designer and she helped me out."

Continuing his exploration as he follows you, he notices a cat tower in the living room, "Oh yeah, I get to be introduced to the regal Duchess and her squire Soya."

You laugh, "They're around here somewhere."

An adorable mew escapes from the upstairs loft, making Felix look up, "Speak of the devil," He's greeted by a beautiful long haired grey and white ragdoll cat, staring down at him with piercing blue eyes.

"Hello Duchess," he greets, mock bowing which makes you laugh.

"Duchess! Come down," You call, patting your thighs.

Duchess moves away from the glass banister and very gracefully prances down the spiral stairs. Meowing as she walks closer, you kneel down and pick her up, "Look who it is! Felix has finally come to say hello."

Felix walks closer, gently petting the top of Duchess's head before running his hand down the rest of her, "Oh my god, she's so soft."

"Right! It's hard to describe it over the phone. Do you want to hold her? She's really calm, I promise. Then I can go scouting for Soya."

"Sure, I trust you," he teases, taking Duchess out of your arms and cradling her in his own. "Gosh, she weighs nothing." Felix says, surprised.

"Yeah, she's all fur and bones," you say, beginning your search for the second cat, "Soya!" You call, glancing under the couch and into the downstairs bathroom, "Where are you, silly girl?"

A small meow comes from down the hallway, similar to duchess's but slightly higher in pitch.

"Were you in my office?" You say, walking towards the end of the hallway. You’re met halfway by a small, short haired, calico cat, "There you are, missy." You bend over and lift Soya into your arms, walking back to Felix who seemed to be greatly enjoying holding Duchess.

"She's tiny!" Felix comments as Soya comes into view.

"I know. I got her six months ago and I would've thought she would've grown a little more by now, but no, she's my forever kitten."

Felix sets Duchess on the ground, who quickly hops onto the couch and makes herself comfortable, and he starts to pet Soya.

"So cute, oh my god, Minho would die."

"I'd love to see that," You joke, handing Soya over to Felix, "Would you kill me if I told you I sent him a picture of Soya after I got her before I sent one to you?"

"What? Really?"

"I mean Minho and I don't talk that much so when we do we tend to communicate through cat pictures," You laugh.

"He's pretty good at reading English actually," Felix smiles, continuing to pet Soya.

"He's not as good at typing it."

"Oh... yeah." Felix laughs.

You continue, "I don't blame him though, English is dumb. But I've actually been able to practice my Korean on him."

"How's that going?" Felix asks, kneeling to put Soya down, who quickly joins Duchess on the couch.

"It's good, I'm definitely better at speaking than I am typing but he's very patient with me."

"Just like he was with me," Felix laughs.

"I meant to ask actually, are any of the other guys here?" You ask.

"No, just me. And I'm only here for a few days."

"Aw, sad." You poke out your lip in a mock pout.

"Yes I know, but I'm free for today so..."

"Did you want to do something specific?"

"Well actually," he laughs awkwardly at himself, "I kinda wanted to show you the hotel they have me staying in."

"Really? Is it super nice?"

"It's huge!"

"I'd love to see it."

You and Felix head out, his hotel was about a 15 minute walk from your apartment. During the walk, you catch up with the events you’d missed during Felix’s three day radio silence. As you get closer to the hotel, a light rain starts to fall.

"Uh-oh," You hold out a hand, "That's not good."

"It's hardly sprinkling." Felix laughs.

"It won't be for long, maybe we should walk a little faster."

"Really?"

"Trust me."

Despite speeding up your pace a little the rain started to get heavier and about two minutes from the hotel it started to pour. Felix was using his jacket in an attempt to shield the two of you.

"We should just run for it, we aren't going to avoid getting wet." You suggest as you stand close to Felix.

"If you say so," Felix looks down at you.

"Let's go!" You take his hand in yours before taking off down the streets.

Felix laughs as you drag him down the street, taking an alleyway to get to the hotel a few seconds faster. You rush through the hotel doors, panting as the two of you catch your breath in the foyer, dripping wet.

"Well... that was fun." You laugh, sighing as you allow yourself to take in the extravagant hotel.

"Yeah, let's get up to my room and we can shower," Felix leads you to the elevator and you do your best to ignore the glares from the staff as you drip water all over the foyer floor.

"You can shower first," Felix says as he opens the hotel room door.

"Felix, you have events to go to. You shouldn't be sitting in cold, wet clothes, you'll get sick."

"I will be fine, go."

"Felix-"

"Go," Felix insists, shoving her towards the bathroom door.

You squint at him for a few moments before sighing, "...fine. I'll be quick." You reluctantly close the bathroom door, shedding your wet clothes and hopping into the shower.

That bathroom was beautiful, exactly what you'd expect from a 5-star hotel. You shower quickly before drying off and wrapping the fluffy white towel around your body, using a small washcloth to dry your dripping hair. Gathering your wet clothes from the floor, you open the bathroom door and step out.

“Your turn.” You say, continuing to dry your wet hair with one hand.

All Felix can do for a moment is stare, your messy wet hair framing your face and dripping onto your collarbones, your bare legs on full display. He quickly snaps himself out of it, walking over to the bathroom. He steps inside but pokes his head out of the doorframe, "You can borrow anything from my suitcase, or you can wear the hotel robe if you want."

"Thanks," You smile as he nods and closes the door.

You walk over to his suitcase and pick out a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on, then grabbing the hotel robe and throwing it on as well. It was softer than you’d expected, plush against your skin. You take the used towel and lay it out on the floor, placing your wet clothes on top to hopefully dry them a bit.

Felix finishes his shower and steps out of the bathroom, steam floating out as he opens the door. You look over, noting the white towel low on his waist before looking away again.

"Get dressed will you," you tease, covering your eyes with your hands.

"Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec." Felix smiles to himself as he sees her wearing both the robe and his sweatpants. He roots around in his suitcase, pulling out a different pair of sweats and a baggy black t-shirt, "Okay, I'm decent," he calls.

You uncover your eyes and turn back around, "So, what do you want to do?"

"Wanna watch a movie? I got a bunch of expensive snacks from Louis Vuitton that I haven't dug into yet." Felix gestures to the table piled with gifts, flowers, and bags, all with the Louis Vuitton label.

"Hell yes!" You grin, walking over to the table, "You've got a nice assortment. I like the flowers... blue, of course."

Felix joins her at the table, "You know me. Take whatever you want, there's no way I would eat all of this."

"Don't have to tell me twice," you tease, poking through bags and boxes.

Once you've chosen your snacks, mostly chocolate, you settle into bed, leaving against the headboard. Felix puts on an old black and white French movie which you almost immediately start ignoring in favor of talking. You chat for close to an hour before settling into a comfortable silence, watching the movie.

You shift slightly, leaning closer to Felix as you keep your attention on the movie. He glances towards you, moving his arm so you can lean your back against his side. You take the hint and lean against him, pulling the blanket up to cover both of you. He tries to hide the huge smile spreading across his face, failing miserably and hoping you didn’t notice.

Adjusting your positon again, you cuddle closer to Felix, “You’re comfy,” you say, your words slightly muffled as your cheek is squished against his chest.

"Thank you," Felix laughs, attempting to hide his panic behind nonchalance.

"And you smell really nice," you say, sleepily nuzzling your face into him.

"Thanks, I just showered," he teases.

"You... are my new pillow."

"Are you gonna fall asleep?" he asks.

You yawn as if on cue, "Probably."

He chuckles, resting a hand on your head and gently massaging your scalp, "You are very endearing when you're half-asleep."

"Mmm thanks..." you say, your words trailing off into sleepy nothings.

As the movie ends, you are all but laying across Felix’s lap, out cold. Your arm is draped over his lap and Felix takes note of the blue braided bracelet with a silver charm sitting on your wrist, the one he’d given you. After turning off the TV, he smiles down at you. 

“Gosh, you're cute,” he mutters quietly to himself, “Believe me when I say I didn't imagine this was how today would end. It's nice to see you up close again... I missed you. I mean, I know we've talked almost everyday since we met but... it just wasn't the same. Crazy to think we went from meeting randomly in a bakery to becoming so close, despite the distance.

He gently moves a few stray hairs away from your face, “You're so cute, you really are. You're cute nose, your cheeks, your hair... god I love that hair. I love your whole face, basically. It's nice to finally see it in person again. I've always thought you were really cute, even right after we met. I couldn't stop talking about the 'pretty girl from the bakery', Hyunjin actually got annoyed," he chuckles to himself. 

"Even now the guys tease me relentlessly whenever I talk about you. But how can I not, you're... perfect. Your passion, your talent... it's inspiring to see you work as hard as you do. And don't even get me started on your presence, even from 6000 miles away... I could feel it. You could light up a room with that smile. All I needed to get out of a slump or a bad mood was to see you smile, you have no idea how much seeing you and talking to you helped me this past year... you helped me get through a lot. And it's not even just your smile, it's everything about you. From the way you talk about acting and music, to the adorable way you talk to Duchess and Soya, to the ridiculous jokes you make when we're playing LoL… it makes me so happy to have met you."

He starts mindlessly playing with your hair, gently running his fingers through the soft strands, "This... this is really ballsy of me to say but... you're asleep so... fuck it. I love you. I've never said that to anyone before but... it's true. I am hopelessly in love with you, enamored with you, I am... crazy about you. I've felt like this for a while, it started pretty quick after we got closer but... I wasn't really sure until after you woke up at 2 am to answer my phone call, talking with me when I was freaking out. You talked me down.... calmed me down, at your own detriment. That meant the world to me and it helped me realize that I would do the same for you, in a heartbeat. I hope that I'll find the courage to tell you when you're awake but... for now I'll settle for getting it off my chest and being thankful for what I've got."

Part 1 Part 3

A/N: hope you enjoyed, i've been on a writing high so this was posted super quick but i know that will ware off so ENJOY IT WHILE IT LASTS XD

- Kit <3

[snakebites-and-ink]

CW: Mind control, being the target of public hate

Vigilante threw a punch, sending an offender reeling backward.

Vigilante winced as glass broke. One more thing that would label them as “destructive.” Why couldn’t people see that it would do more harm to let criminals get away with hurting and taking from innocents?

Vigilante danced out of the way as another wrongdoer tried to hit them. Vigilante swept their leg out and sent their opponent down, then turned back to the other.

Just as Vigilante was winning the fight, the official heroes started to arrive, and Vigilante got ready to disappear. Working outside the law, they weren’t on the best of terms with the hero agency.

The hero approached, ready to take the criminals into custody.

“Well done. We’ll make sure they get to the proper authorities.” The hero gave Vigilante a dazzling smile, then turned to cuff the incapacitated offenders. And that was it. No complaints about damaged property. No reprimand about their methods. No demands about hero registration or “proper channels” or “leaving it to the professionals.”

It was what Vigilante had dreamed of when they’d started this gig. But after so long being treated as barely better than the criminals due to working outside the Agency, they regarded the amiable cooperation with skepticism and suspicion. Vigilante slunk away. No one followed. No jeers even followed. It would have been pleasant if it weren’t so disconcerting.

The next day, Vigilante woke ready for things to be back to normal, with the usual lack of friendliness from the Agency and the public; though a little part of them hoped things would stay…good? accepting? What exactly was going on yesterday?

Regardless, it was probably a fluke.

Or so Vigilante thought.

But as they went out to try to do their part again, their reception was peaceful—positive, even. They couldn’t say it was bad, but it was strange.

After a third day of this, Vigilante gave up on going about things as normal. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, but three times? They couldn’t possibly write this off. Something was going on.

Loath as they were to go to the Agency, Vigilante figured it was the best thing they could do now. If something was wrong, who better to solve it than the good guys?

As Vigilante entered the headquarters, they were cheerily greeted by the heroes who saw them. There were no attempts to get them to join up and do things “right.” The whole experience was surreal. Vigilante walked through the halls undisturbed, feeling almost as though they were in a dream.

They found Hero, the only official hero they were on pretty positive terms with. Or at least, formerly the only one.

“Something’s going on,” Vigilante opened.

“Well, we’ll be happy to help. What is it?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. People are acting—weird. They’re treating me differently, acting like things have suddenly changed without any reason, I don’t know, I can just tell something’s not right.”

“Oh, that. Don’t worry about it, this is things changing for the better!”

“But, it’s definitely not normal, and out of the blue…”

“Haven’t you seen the news?”

“I…don’t keep up on the news more than necessary.” The truth was, Vigilante avoided the news as much as they possibly could while still keeping an ear out for crime. They’d gotten sick of hearing about themself. Destructive, illegal, amateur, dangerous. Whatever new insult was cooked up for someone outside the shiny, beloved Agency.

“They’re singing your praises, Vigilante. You’re finally getting the right kind of recognition for what you’re doing.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s what you deserve, Vigilante. I could see it long ago, and now everyone else can, too.”

“You…?”

Hero nodded. “I just had to do something.”

“But why?”

“Watching you fighting on the side of good but being treated like an unwanted stain, doing your best and being harrassed for it by my own people, being dragged through the mud by newspeople who never fought in their life—I’d had enough. You’re good, Vigilante, and you deserve to be treated like you’re good.”

“So you—you did all this?”

Hero smiled. “Yeah.”

“Are you controlling the whole city?” Vigilante asked, astonished. They’d never known Hero could control multiple people or exert lasting control, let alone both at once. They’d only ever seen Hero use brief, temporary control of one person to nonviolently neutralize a threat.

“Oh, no. Only the most important people, the Agency, and the news. I let propaganda do the rest.”

That was…only slightly reassuring. The whole hero agency, multiple news agencies, and anyone Hero deemed “important”…Vigilante had never seen Hero do anything near this scale before. “Crap.”

Hero frowned slightly and tilted their head. “I would’ve thought you’d be happy.”

“I…I appreciate the thought, Hero, but you can’t just mind-control people to see things your way.”

Hero’s frown deepened a little. “Clearly I can.”

“But it’s not right.”

“The way they were treating you was not right. My job is to fight injustice. No matter who it comes from,” Hero responded.

“I can’t do this. And you shouldn’t either.”

“But Vigilante…setting things back to the cruel and unfair way they were wouldn’t be better.”

Now it was Vigilante’s turn to frown. “Hero…”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll see you around, yeah?” Hero waved in a clear dismissal.

Vigilante felt frustration welling up in them but didn’t know what else to do.

When they woke up the next morning, refreshed and recharged, Vigilante saw the world through new eyes.

They found they simply weren’t bothered anymore by what Hero was doing. Besides, Hero was right. The treatment of before had been unjust and things were better this way.

Vigilante wasn’t going to worry about it anymore, just enjoy the opportunity it presented. This was fine, good even.

The whole system worked better now: Vigilante was able to do their work without as much worry of interference, transfer of defeated wrongdoers to the heroes went more smoothly, and they were treated as an ally rather than another problem.

And, if Vigilante was being honest with themself, they enjoyed the positive reception. They were treated as a hero, despite not being a part of the official agency.

They did see Hero around, as well as seeing several of the other heroes more often, now that Vigilante wasn’t at odds with them. Vigilante didn’t try to convince Hero to change what they were doing again; they’d leave Hero to their work as Vigilante was left to their own.

They went about their vigilante work cheerily, glad to be a part of something good without being hated for it.

This was how things were supposed to be.

[doppuing]

untitled 04 : l.ty

you were a backup dancer for sm ent, but lee taeyong always had an eye on you, on stage.. and off.

pairing: idol!taeyong x afab!reader

genre: slow burn, pre-smut

warning: tension, performance angst, jealousy, suggestive content, energy, backstage moment, slow burn, possessive behavior, implied smut, eye contact that lasts too long, choreography that's basically foreplay, minor hand-grabbing violence (affectionate),

lmao i got this idea while listening to call d

you didn’t expect to be chosen.

you’d submitted the application, just to say you did. taeyong’s team had been looking for a solo partner — someone with chemistry, control, and enough presence to hold their own in his performance without overshadowing it.

you were talented, sure. but not famous. not known.

so when your name came through, your hands actually shook.

"lee taeyong personally selected you." the message repeated in your mind for hours.

rehearsals started three days later.

he was quiet.

not cold. but observant.

taeyong didn’t waste time with pleasantries. he watched you move, noted where your timing locked into his, and stepped in without hesitation when something didn’t flow.

"you’re late on the turn," he’d say. or, "you’re not breathing with me."

but it never felt like criticism, just truth. the kind of truth that came from someone who saw everything.

it rattled you at first - the intensity. the way his hand would brush against your waist to adjust your position and linger just long enough to make your spine light up.

his eyes followed you when he thought you weren’t looking. and when you were looking? he didn’t look away.

the choreography was close. chest-to-chest. breath-to-breath. his hand at your throat, yours on his chest. the tension was written into the routine.

but what made it unbearable was the way it started to feel real.

you started dreaming about it.

not the dance, but him.

how he moved. how he touched you. how he said your name, low and focused, when you nailed a transition or snapped into position on beat.

"good," he’d murmur.

god. that voice.

two nights before the performance

he stayed after rehearsal.

you thought he’d left - the room was quiet, lights dimmed, and you were still working the solo section alone.

he watched from the doorway for a full minute before speaking.

"you dance like you’re hiding something."

you turned, startled. "i, what?"

his gaze stayed locked on you. "you hold back. especially when you’re close to me."

you opened your mouth, then closed it again.

he stepped closer. slow. careful. but there was heat under every step.

"you think i don’t feel it?" he said, softer now. “you think i’m not holding back too?”

you didn’t speak. couldn’t.

his hand brushed your shoulder as he passed you. "don’t hide on stage."

then he was gone.

you didn’t sleep that night.

the day of inkigayo, the stage felt too small.

makeup, mics, crew moving in fast rhythm. but none of it felt real. not until you stood beside him in the dark, seconds before the lights rose.

he didn’t speak.

he didn’t need to.

his hand found yours, briefly. a squeeze. grounding. his eyes met yours like a silent promise.

when the music hit, you both moved like you shared a heartbeat.

the routine blurred - heat, sweat, touch, pull - your bodies tangled in the spotlight like gravity had finally snapped. the part where he caught your jaw, leaned in close like he might kiss you?

you felt his breath against your mouth. he stayed there a beat too long.

it wasn’t acting.

when it ended, the crowd roared.

but he only looked at you.

backstage was chaos.

staff yelling, makeup artists swarming, cameras everywhere, but taeyong didn’t disappear like he usually did.

he found you. fast.

pulled you by the wrist, barely saying a word. his grip wasn’t rough - just firm. urgent.

you followed, heart hammering.

he pushed open a back hallway door. the second it clicked shut behind you, he let go.

you turned.

he was looking at you like he didn’t recognize himself anymore.

“you killed it out there,” you said, trying to breathe.

he shook his head once. like he couldn’t listen to anything but his own thoughts.

“you’re not leaving tonight.”

the air shifted.

“taeyong…”

his name came out small. unsure.

his eyes dropped to your mouth.

“do you feel it too, or am i just-”

you didn’t let him finish.

your hand reached for his, pulled him closer. his fingers curled into your waist like they belonged there. he didn’t kiss you yet, just hovered. forehead to yours.

you could feel him tremble.

“i’ve wanted this for weeks,” he admitted, voice rough. “you don’t know what it did to me, watching you dance like that, knowing i couldn’t touch you the way i wanted to.”

“you can now,” you whispered.

to be continued...?

[soraya-snape]

There was this HP creator on TikTok that I was starting to really like. But then she said that “Snape is not a good guy (OK kinda agree but the way she said it sounded more like “he is a bad or even really bad guy” which is obviously not true) and that he only tried to save Harry which was the least he could do” and this is the part where I was like?!?!?!

He might have started off only trying to save Harry (actually Lily at first) but then he actually tries to save the whole wizarding world. Like remember that time he told Dumbledore “Lately only those I couldn't save.” or when he tried to save Lupin at the beginning of DHp1 or told Phineas Niggelus Black to not call Hermione a mud blood. And let's not forget how he spied for Dumbledore during the first and second war, which is definitely more than the least he could do. I could go on but I think people with enough braincells get that he was not just trying to save that one boy but actively going against Voldemort's values and also kinda his own (or at least the once he was taught as a kid/teen). And like the example with Lupin shows also protecting those who, from his perspective might not deserve his help (considering Remus was a bystander at his bullying who actually had the power and the duty to stop it and also while mostly being civil towards Snape in later years still made his life extremely hard [I still love Remus but let's not ignore his flaws]).

Yes maybe he was a cruel teacher even bully to some of his students (we actually canonically only know of the trio and Neville) but at the same time also beloved and admired by some (mainly Slytherin but considering how badly they were treated by almost everyone else I actually think it's good of Snape to favour them especially considering what he went through during school simply because he was Slytherin. If you have a problem with that, perhaps you should complain first about everyone mistreating the Slytherins before complaining about someone treating them nicely, even if it is unfair). 

But besides that his position in the second war (and also the end of the first one) on the good side is clear and not only to save Harry but also everyone he simply could save. And if you don't see it, maybe you should get your eyes checked, or I don't know...

[javierduffy]

ohh javieran … javieran post kieran’s death .., javier is a poor lonesome cowboy in america a long way from home with no more sweetheart to sit and talk with him ooohhh can anyone hear me ….

[littl3d0ll-art]

It always makes me so happy when an artist I recognize likes my art… like woah, I like your art and you also like mine??? No way

[cranberrymoons]

.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[kthologue]

the end times — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo satoru thinks he’s going to die because you’re giving him the silent treatment. (aka your first big fight with gojo).

contents. hurt/comfort, ooc, lovesick!gojo, you give him the silent treatment and he goes crazy, he is so pathetic in this one, tw obsessive behavior (he makes it EVERYONE’S problem), gojo’s pov

notes. loosely inspired by that one scene from yakuza fiance. not proofread whats new

Gojo knows he’s screwed up the second he steps into the common area of Jujutsu Tech’s dormitory. The air feels thick, wrong. And then there’s you, curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, but your eyes aren’t moving.

His grin falters for half a second before he masks it with his usual bravado. “I always knew you had a little freak in you, but reading your erotic books out in the open? Who knew my girl was such a perv.”

The joke usually earns him a laugh, a shove, maybe even a teasing retort. But tonight, the silence that follows is deafening.

The pit in his stomach grows.

“Sweetheart?” He tries again, waving a hand obnoxiously close to your face.

You finally react, swatting his hand away, but there’s no playfulness in the motion. Your eyes don't even meet his.

“You’re late,” you say flatly, still staring at your book. “Again.”

Gojo scoffs, irritation bubbling. Not at you, never at you, but at the damn book that’s getting more attention than him.

“Ah, you know how it is. Got held up in Kyoto,” he says with a shrug.

The words leave his mouth too easily. He doesn’t realize his mistake until you finally, finally look at him.

And it’s nothing like usual.

There’s no warmth in your gaze, no sparkle of amusement or exasperation. Instead, you pin him with a look so sharp it strips him bare, leaving nothing but the hollow weight in his chest.

“You missed our date.”

His breath catches. His throat goes dry. “I–”

“I’m not mad about that.”

Relief floods him too fast, too soon. His shoulders sag as he leans down, tilting his head for a well-earned kiss. “You’re the best. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

You pull away before he can touch you.

Gojo freezes.

“[Name]?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “You know, it’s funny.”

There’s nothing funny about this moment.

His pulse thrums as you continue, voice eerily steady. “That your mission was in Kyoto. I mean, we have a whole sister school there, full of sorcerers ready to handle a first-grade threat. So why would they need you, specifically?”

His stomach drops.

He’s never been good at guilt, not when he’s spent his whole life believing he’s untouchable. But now, standing before you, unable to meet your eyes, it sits heavy in his gut.

And you don’t let up.

“Of course, I asked around. Thought maybe I was overthinking it.” A humorless scoff escapes you. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my boyfriend was too busy meeting with his future bride.”

Gojo’s mouth opens, but for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to say.

“That’s–” he starts, then stops because, shit, you’re staring at him like he’s a stranger. Like he’s someone you can’t trust. The realization makes his stomach churn.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” you say bitterly, arms crossing as you lean back into the couch. “I mean, I’d love to hear how you were going to explain this one, Gojo Satoru.”

Full name. That’s how he knows he’s really fucked up.

“It’s not–It’s not what you think,” he says quickly, voice unusually hoarse. His usual bravado, his charm, none of it is coming to him. He doesn’t even know where to start. “I wasn’t–I wasn’t hiding it. I just–”

“You just forgot to tell me that your clan is arranging a marriage for you?” you cut in sharply. “That slipped your mind?”

“No! Yes—Fuck, that’s not what I mean,” he groans, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s never felt like this before. Like he’s scrambling for footing on uneven ground. “I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter, sweetheart. I wasn’t ever going to go through with it. You know that, right?”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Do I? I mean, Suguru seemed shocked when I didn’t know that these were recurring dates set by your clan.”

Gojo falters.

“You didn’t even think to tell me, Satoru,” you say, voice quieter now, but somehow even more devastating. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

His heart clenches. That’s not–God, that’s not what this is.

“Of course you deserve to know! But I—” he exhales sharply, trying to gather his words. “I just—Fuck, I thought it was stupid. I thought it wasn’t worth mentioning.”

You shake your head, looking almost tired now. “Right. Because I’m just supposed to assume you’d never go through with it. After your multiple dates with her. Because I’m supposed to read your mind, just like always.”

The weight of your words crashes into him, and Gojo suddenly realizes that this isn’t just about Kyoto. This isn’t just about one lie, one mistake. This is about every time he’s brushed things off, every time he’s let silence speak for him, every time he’s sat through those excruciating meetings, knowing he would never go through with it, but never once thinking about how it would feel for you to find out this way. This is about every time he’s expected you to just get him without him ever having to say a word.

This is about how, even after everything, you still don’t know how much he loves you.

And now, looking at you, Gojo is terrified that he’s already lost his chance to prove it.

“I’m going to sleep,” you stand up from your place on the couch. 

Gojo tries to follow you, “Listen, baby–”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I need some space.” you turn around to send him a teary glare and that stops him in his tracks. He had never seen you cry. And it tore him apart knowing that he was the cause. 

The sound of your door slamming echoes in Gojo’s mind. 

Gojo Satoru is the first one in class the next day.

He drums his fingers against the desk, restless in a way he can't explain, but he knows it has everything to do with the fact that he spent the entire night not sleeping. His mind was too busy replaying the way you had looked at him, no, the way you hadn’t looked at him.

He had left you alone and upset. He had made you feel like you were second to someone else. And worst of all, he hadn’t even realized it until it was too late.

“This must be a first.”

Gojo glances up as Suguru enters, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Gojo Satoru, on time? It must be the end times.”

He knows it’s a joke, but it might as well be the end times. Gojo doesn’t respond, just presses his lips into a thin line as he goes back to mentally reciting the apology speech he’s been revising in his head all night.

Then the shoji door slides open again.

You walk in with Shoko, your head tilted slightly as you whisper something to her, something he’ll never get to hear because you don’t so much as glance in his direction. Instead, you take a seat at the farthest desk, as if he isn’t even there.

A part of him withers away.

But Gojo Satoru isn’t one to give up.

If words won’t get your attention, he’ll just have to be Gojo Satoru about it. He leans back in his chair and stretches obnoxiously, before loudly exclaiming, “Yaga-sensei! Are those grey hairs from your recent divorce?”

He grins, waiting for the familiar sound of your laugh, for that little shake of your head, for you to scold him like always.

But you don’t even look at him.

Instead, he’s met with Geto and Shoko’s twin expressions of abject horror, and before he has a chance to register what’s happening–

BAM!

Yaga’s palm collides with his head, sending him face-first into his desk.

Even through the throbbing pain, he can only think about one thing.

You didn’t even react.

“And how exactly is she ignoring you?”

Shoko’s grumpy voice echoes through the morgue, where she’s been attempting to practice her technique. She’s clearly unimpressed that Gojo Satoru has decided to spam-call her instead of dealing with his own problems.

“She’s ignoring me, Shoko,” Gojo groans dramatically from the other side of the Jujutsu Tech campus, rubbing the fresh bump on his head as he stands in front of your door. “I’ve been knocking for an hour. She’s in there. I know she’s in there, but she won’t answer.”

“Maybe she finally got tired of your bullshit,” Shoko says dryly. “Honestly, I don’t know why it took her this long to hold you accountable. She’s let your bad behavior slide for way too long.”

“Why are we talking about me like I’m some kind of dog?!”

Shoko ignores him.

“From the sound of it, you really messed up. I mean, who keeps a marriage a secret from their girlfriend?” She pauses, then adds with a smirk in her voice, “Oh, right. You.”

Gojo groans, pressing his forehead against your door. “You and I both know that’s not what happened. But she doesn’t. And she won’t even give me the time of day to explain.”

Shoko sighs. “Give her time to cool down.”

“And what, let her decide she wants to run off and marry some other guy? Move to a cute little beach town in Enoshima, start a family, have three kids, and leave all Jujutsu sorcery behind?”

There’s a long pause before Shoko makes a disgusted sound. “O-oi. Keep your weirdly detailed fantasies to yourself.”

“I’m just being realistic,” he insists, clutching his flip phone dramatically.

Shoko promptly hangs up on him.

Gojo stares at the device for a moment before slowly lowering it, exhaling hard.

Then he rests his head against your door again, defeated.

But Gojo Satoru was never one to admit defeat, so he tries again. He returns to your door the very next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“[Name]!” he chirps. “I bought us some parfait! Let’s talk things over, yeah?”

Silence.

Not even the sound of movement.

But Gojo Satoru is not easily discouraged.

So Gojo Satoru comes again the next morning.

“[Name]!” he knocks again, this time balancing a slice of strawberry cake in one hand. “This is all my fault, so come out and let me apologize properly!”

Nothing.

Gojo sighs, leaning against the doorframe, about to knock again when—

Your phone rings.

His breath catches as he presses his ear to the wood.

“Hi, Suguru?”

His heart stops.

“Yeah, we’re still on for the movie. I’m just about to leave right now.”

For the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru understands what people mean when they say they feel like they’ve been punched in the gut.

Because you’re going to Suguru.

You’re not just ignoring him, you’re choosing someone else.

His fingers twitch at his sides as a feeling he doesn’t like at all creeps into his chest. It’s something ugly, something unfamiliar. Something that feels a lot like jealousy. Was that how you felt?

He wants to knock again, wants to demand that you open the door, look at him, let him fix this before you walk away from him any further.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he presses his lips into a thin line, shoves his hands into his pockets, and forces himself to step away from your door.

Forces himself to give you the space you deserved.

You don’t know why you relent so easily.

You shouldn’t. Not after the way he lied, the way he kept something so important from you.

And yet, when you hear him pacing outside your door, his nervous energy practically seeping through the walls, you feel something crack.

He’s been outside your room for the nth time this week. Every day, like clockwork, he’s knocked. Brought your favorite snacks. Talked to you through the door, filling the silence with his ridiculous banter, even when you refused to answer.

You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your blanket a little tighter. You should stay angry. But you can't.

You sigh, pressing your forehead to your knee.

Maybe it’s time to stop punishing the both of you.

With a deep breath, you stand, crossing the room to the door. When you open it, Gojo nearly stumbles forward, mid-step in his pacing.

His eyes snap to yours, wide and filled with so much desperate hope it makes your chest ache.

And the way his face lights up like you’ve just handed him the entire world tells you that, maybe, you were never going to be able to stay mad at him forever.

But you’re here, leaning on your door frame with your arms crossed, your nails digging into your skin as you glare at the man who has spent the last ten minutes tripping over his words, looking wrecked in a way you’ve never seen before. His hair is messier than usual, lips are parted like he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t know where to start.

Finally, you scoff, breaking the silence. “If you don’t have anything to say, I’m going back into my room.”

“No!,” Gojo steps forward instinctively, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. And after everything, he is. “I screwed up.”

You give him a deadpan look. “Oh, really?”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, I really fucked up.”

Silence.

You should say something. You should demand an explanation, yell, maybe even cry, but you’re so tired. You’ve spent days twisting yourself into knots over this, convincing yourself you never meant as much to him as he did to you.

And then Gojo says it.

“I should’ve told you.” His voice is hoarse. “I should have told you after the first meeting. After the first second they brought it up.” He swallows hard. “But I was stupid. I thought if I ignored it, if I went through the motions, if I waited for the right moment… then it wouldn’t matter. That it would be over before you ever had to know.”

You shake your head, letting out a hollow laugh. “Satoru, do you even hear yourself? Do you get what it was like for me to find out from someone else? To hear that the person I–” you cut yourself off, but the damage is done. You see it in the way his breath hitches, in the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you.

“The person you what?” he asks softly, pleading.

You clench your jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

Your shake your head. “You lied to me.”

“I know,” he says, and the sheer brokenness in his voice makes your throat tighten. “I know, sweetheart. And I swear to you that I never meant to. I never wanted to hurt you.” he exhales shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear on everything, I was never going to go through with it. I never even showed up to any of the dates, so they kept ambushing me under the guise of missions! I sat through every single one of those goddamn meetings thinking about how ridiculous it was, how there was only ever one person I wanted.”

He stops himself, inhaling sharply.

And then, quieter, almost afraid:

“How there’s only ever you.”

The words hit you like a fist to the chest.

Gojo watches you carefully, breathless, waiting. Hoping. He’s given you the truth, raw and unfiltered, and now it’s up to you.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in his world that makes you believe him.

For the first time in a week, your lips find his, and Gojo swears he can finally breathe again. The warmth of your palm against his cheek, the way your fingers curl slightly as if grounding yourself in him. It’s enough to make him melt.

"You’re so insufferably cheesy, Satoru," you murmur against his lips, your breath warm, teasing. "It makes me so angry that I love it." A pause, a soft exhale. "But I forgive you."

His grin is instant, smug and shameless. "That was good, huh?" He tilts his head, cerulean eyes twinkling. "I’m willing to bet your heart skipped a beat."

You roll your eyes, but you kiss him again, slower this time, because, damn it, he’s right.

extra!

“I demand some extra loving!” Satoru sprawls dramatically across your bed, limbs hanging off the edge like a defeated king.

You barely spare him a glance, flipping a page in your book as you lie comfortably on your stomach. “And why, exactly, do you deserve that?”

He lifts his head, pouting. “I deserve it after a week’s worth of psychological trauma. Don’t think I forgot that you ditched me for Suguru.”

“Oh… that.”

“Yeah. That.” His voice is thick with exaggerated betrayal.

You finally look at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “It was a fake phone call, Satoru. You were just so insufferable camping outside my door that I had to make up an excuse.”

His jaw drops. “Huh?!”

[ccccatttta]

jegulus fic where james is a youtuber/streamer who does all sorts of pretty crazy pranks and people ADORE him because he's totally shameless.

one day he gets dared to crash a wedding and oppose it, pretending to be in love with either the groom or the bride.

and even though his editor (and bestest friend) remus told him that that's fucking insane, james still chose to do it bc he's a menace. but he does promise to cut it all off if things get messy.

james gets everything ready and, after stalking some of his old school classmates, he finds that one of them is attending a wedding (it's mulciber, who james remembers to despise back then, so it's a win-win situation), which means his plan is all set.

by fate, and fate only, this wedding is regulus' and some girl's his parents chose for him (and mulciber was invited bc his family is very close to the black's)

and obviously, this is a clear forced marriage, regulus would rather kill himself than marry a girl, he's as gay as they come.

[for sake of the plot, sirius and james don't know each other at all, didn't go to school together either, and sirius didn't run away and is also livid with his parents for marrying reg off, but there wasn't anything he could do]

so! prank day, james is live the moment he, very dramatically, stands up and proclaims his love for this.... regulus guy, and how he knows he promised to not come but he just couldn't handle the thought of the love of his life being married to someone else (his followers thought he was going to claim to love the bride, but james found the groom way too cute and he just couldn't hold himself back, he's just a guy)

the 30 seconds of pure silence and shock that follow are almost enough to make james break character and start laughing like crazy.

regulus, who's flabbergasted by the way, knows immediately that it's a prank. however, this might as well be a sign of the gods, because, what are the chances that this (very handsome) random man, chose HIS wedding out of all, and targeted HIM to be the one he "loves"? way to many coincidences.

also, did he mention the dude is unbelievably fit?

he makes a choice right there.

using all his acting abilities, he makes a whole scene tearing up and running to him. it's so well done, james for a second believes they are actual lovers.

hell breaks at that moment, walburga goes absolutely nuts along with orion and their side of the family. the bride's family start a fight, and between the commotion regulus sees his brother laughing maniacally after their mother yells at regulus to stop playing games or he will get disowned.

james, who thinks that this is now along the lines of things getting messy, is about to announce it's all a prank, when regulus sees right through him, panics, and just whispers "im going to kiss you now, sorry" before snogging the life out of him.

remus, who's the camera guy, cuts the live right there.

james, oh james, he doesn't quite hear the screech walburga lets out because this backfired so bad, but jesus chirst can this regulus kiss. this is love at first sight. love at first prank, if you may.

regulus knowing stuff is about to get bad, just grabs james' hand and runs for it. james just follows, he's dizzy. remus also follows because he's NOT getting involved in all that, he's actually quitting james.

sirius follows too, if his little brother is finally disowned, there's no reason to stay, thank you very much.

anyways, this whole idea was just because i want james followers to see his channel thumbnails going:

CRASHING A RANDOM WEDDING 💍 PRANK #56

to

how i met the love of my life ; Q&A

and

REG AND I ARE GETTING MARRIED (im sealing all entries so no-one can crash it) — VLOG

bye

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[thalwri]

STICKY N' WET

synopsis: your agitating ex tries to disrupt your peace again, but he doesn't realise sylus is around. and neither of you realise that your working together to finally get rid of your ex would bring you much closer.

warnings: heavy smut, dry humping, strip tease, riding, creampies, shower sex, couch sex, petnames (kitten, sweetie, sweetheart), squirting, messy and very wet

wc: 5,6k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“where are you off to, kitten?”

you turned on your heel, seconds away from fuming. “i told you to stop calling me that.” 

there had been incessant knocking torturing your door to your apartment. somehow you’ve been letting sylus stay in your place for weeks on end while he occasionally disappeared to the n109 zone for his usual business.

between your tether to him being more intense than usual, and the recent events you’d been going through, you couldn’t tell whether you were grateful for his presence or felt more at peace when he wasn’t around for a brief time.

it had been five minutes. you wouldn’t really think that the knocking was bad but realistically if someone knocked at your door without a break and did it very loudly even without a response, then that would be concerning.

sylus found it irritating in the least, but had the tolerance to ignore it until the relentless fool disappeared on their own. he watched you walk to the door and look into the peep hole. your breath hitched as you stumbled back, covering your mouth with both hands before quickly dropping them to your sides.

“what is it?”

“my ex.” your voice dropped to a monotone line, your body still on the door in front of you. sylus groaned, pinching his brows but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised.

your break up wasn’t revolutionary and chaotic so to speak, but it wasn’t peaceful either. he had been there for you through the process, he didn’t even have to calm you down so he had thought you’d breeze through it and give him more of your attention.

until you started crying.

apparently, the fool had gotten with another woman just weeks after your split and that broke you. so two months following that, sylus had spent his hours of quality time with you helping you recover and move on all while plotting all the crude and illegal things he could do to that insect to avenge you. 

he had thought to impale the guy with a fork, or peel off his skin with a carrot peeler, and make a stew out of him so that if anyone investigated, they’d eat the evidence. hannibal style. if he ever told you that, you would most likely be disgusted.

sylus rose to his feet in solemn silence and gently moved you away from the door. “i’ll handle it, kitten.”

“sylus–“

“i’ll handle it.” the depth his voice had lowered to was an instant indication that you could no longer try to interfere. whatever he was about to do, you could only pray it wasn’t going to get him arrested.

you turned away, pinching the corners of your eyes as the door opened for sylus to be greeted by yelling.

“what took you so long to answer– who are you?”

“the owner of this apartment. who in this bereft city are you?” well, being the owner, so to speak, was a lie. technically you owned it– but sylus began to actually live and function there more than you had in the last few months.

just looking at the bastard in person began to irk him. sylus wholeheartedly believed you could do far better than you had but he knew better than to lose his chances of being especially close to you by questioning your judgement. he was not interested in fighting you for your attention for he knew that you truly were drawn to him.

how could you not be attracted to each other especially after all you’ve gone through together?

sylus looked your ex up and down in disgust and scoffed out a laugh. “what are you doing here? this is the last time i’ll ask.”

“where is my girlfriend?” your ex grumbled, attempting to look over sylus’ body by standing on the tips of his toes. you intuitively stepped back before you stopped. would you really let this happen over and over again? being tormented like this?

not again.

“she’s not–“ sylus began to ball his hands into fists as he spoke before you held him to calm him down.

“it’s okay,” you gave him a grateful smile, patting his chest for him to step back. “i told you to stop calling and coming to my apartment.”

“i just wanted to talk–“ 

“you lost your chance, so do me a favour and screw yourself to another planet before i feed you to the fucking wanderers. we’re over. for a reason. and here’s no turning back from that. so leave.”

“but–“

“out.”

“no, i–“

the sound of a gun– your gun– cocked, you felt a tall figure looming over you oozing murderous energy. sylus aimed the gun directly at your ex’s head.

“you heard my woman,” he snarled, trying his best to hide his prideful smirk. you felt your ears warm. look at you, standing on your own feet against vermin-like that ex of yours. “get out.”

“who do you think you are?” your ex scoffed, sorely attempting to push out his chest to seem confident. 

“he is my boyfriend,” you stepped forward, pushing your ex back by pointing your finger at him with each statement you make until he’s out of the doorway. “he is my man, he is what matters to me now, and you are nothing to me. so get out and stay out of my life before i kill you with my bare hands.”

and with that, you slam the door shut, locking the door quickly. you leaned against the door, catching empty air while your heart rate slowed down from the nerves. you heard sylus chuckle and put your gun down.

“that was impressive, sweetie.” you groaned in your hands, intentionally avoiding his gaze. you called him your boyfriend. your man. and he called you his woman. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find that nice to say, but still!

“look at me,” his voice, both soothing and arousing compelled you to listen to him. you removed your hands from your eyes and looked sylus in the eye.

“i suppose you’re satisfied.” you sighed in exhaustion, you felt so drained from talking to that ex of yours. a snack would be doing wonders at this time.

“i’m proud of you,” he smiled– a rarity from sylus but fully appreciated nonetheless. “standing your ground, defending your privacy, referring to me as your man–“

“you’re terrible,” you choked out a laugh, slapping his abdomen. 

“i’m divine, kitten, and you know it.”

you weren’t going to deny that. especially after being trapped in his homestead, after getting to know him, along with seeing a great many parts of him. he was an attractive man, that was undeniable. 

his wit, intelligence, and sense of control during missions and operations within onychinus and how he spends time with you are all things you’d grown to admire about him. you adored him and felt rather enamoured by the things he does. the things he does to you.

within the last month, you’d seen him in ways that you should have deemed inappropriate. watching exit the shower, water dripping down the lines of his abdomen and disappearing within the towel wrapped around his waist. with his grey lashes holding small droplets above his deliciously terrifying crimson eyes of his.

how his chest always looked larger every time you saw him, or how you’d intentionally bend down with your ass in the air when he was within your proximity. something at the time you thought as harmless. but now you’re standing before him and you felt a new wave of need.

whether it was from what he said or the fact that he was ready to kill for you, you didn’t know. but now you were feeling restless.

“sylus,”

he breathed out your name in response, almost as though he was holding in some pent in energy. you could feel energy swirling in your heart as you watched his eye twitch. the same eye that held his part of the aether core. were you resonating without touching each other?

“thank you,” you began, struggling to find your words. “for earlier.”

“anything for you, sweetie.” he stepped closer to you, making you tilt your neck slightly to meet his gaze. “including covering for your pretty ass whenever your missions went sideways because of that creature of an ex.”

you stifled a laugh through the noise of your aether tethered heart rapidly beating. watching his lips curve, purse, and move as he spoke, watching his eyes kind of lighten just from speaking with you… you just couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“you just can’t seem to take your eyes off me or stop thinking about me, can you kitten?” he smirked, placing his hand beneath your chin. “it would only be fair for me to admit i have had the same sentiment, but for much longer than i’d like to admit.”

“then do something about it,” you brashly whispered, feeling your patience wear thin. this was the closest chance you had at doing something with him without fear. “you’ve got your chance, so use it.”

“oh?” that irritating yet attractive chuckle filled the room other than whatever was playing on the tv. you could just feel your clit tingle from it. “is kitten baring her claws again?”

you gripped the collar of his dress shirt, harshly pulling him close to you– his lips less than a breath away from yours. “this kitten is baring her teeth, and telling sylus she wants him.”

that seemed to be the perfect buzzword. before you knew it, his lips had crashed into yours, his arms wrapped around your torso, and if you weren’t mistaken a short moan had escaped his lips. there was barely a moment for you to absorb the kiss, as you had already begun to peel each other’s clothing off from the jackets to the shirts and eventually the pants. 

you pushed sylus onto the couch and straddled him, his hands held the back of your thighs pushing you up more towards him as your lips danced and tugged away in both passion and desire. he dropped you onto his lap, subtly introducing you to the growing bulge beneath you. it felt so big. you gasped as he began to grind against your clothed pussy, his hands reaching for your ass and tits to fondle and squeeze.

“i want you,” sylus whispered, momentarily stopping to lock his crimson eyes on yours in seriousness. “and i have you. do you want us to continue. we’ll stop if you aren’t ready.”

you smiled in gratitude for his concern for you. “i’m ready, sylus. i’m ready for you–” before you could finish your sentence, your lips are locked in a chaste kiss, your groins meeting each other through relentless grinds and your heavy sighs and soft whines competing with the television’s noise.

you wanted to truly show sylus how much you appreciated all that he has done for you in the past month so you slowly pulled yourself away, gently pushing him back when his lips followed and rose to your feet. 

“stand up,” sylus rose without question, hiding his curiosity with a ‘hmph’. “take off your underwear.”

he raised an eyebrow, his ruby eyes glistened with excitement. “and what about you, kitten? don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?”

“i want to give you a show,” you tug at the hem of his black briefs, which had a wet spot marked around his erection. the more you looked at the shape of his cock, the more you realised just how big he was. you could feel both your mouth and pussy water at that sight alone.

“i think i’m the one entertaining you right now,” in a swift move, he pulled down his briefs and kicked them aside. his cock bounced free and stood so tall and proud, his tip was reddened and shining with leaky precum leaving a mess on his lower abdomen. 

“don’t be shy,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and placing it on his cock. it was so warm and so hard, you couldn’t help yourself from stroking it. sylus closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh as you pumped his cock from the base to the tip stopping to circle your finger lightly over his slit.

“h-ha, kitten, that’s- oh,” you dragged your precum glistened finger down a large vein that travelled to the base then removed your hand. still in a slight daze from your touch, sylus didn’t hear what you said.

“i’m gonna give you a little show,” you boldly repeated, grabbing his face with a hand to give him a chaste kiss, swiping your tongue briefly across his lips before he could react. you stepped back to create some distance between the two of you to give him a bit of a sight to see. 

sylus laughed and plopped himself back onto the couch, spreading his legs to give you constant access to his throbbing, twitching, leaky cock. his hand was wrapped around the shaft, slowly stroking it as translucent drops leaked from his tip. seeing him in his nude, blatant glory brought a flood of heat rush over your body and settle in your clit– which was rudely rubbing against the fabric of your underwear.

“don’t get cold feet now, sweetie,” sylus breathed, his chest beginning to heave and sweat. you’d barely gotten to do what you wanted. 

“best you be patient.” you scoffed, unclasping your bra, slowly peeling the straps down each shoulder. you turned making your back face him and peeled off your bra and tossed it towards him. 

sylus’ hands were long gone from his hard, throbbing cock to catch your bra. he set it on his thigh, resting on the couch arms spread wide intrigued to see what else you had in store for him. “continue, kitten. my patience is wearing thin.”

you slowly turned to face him again, saving your final reveal for much later. you swayed your way back to him and sat on his lap, carefully pressing his cock against his abdomen with your body. his breath hitched at the friction from your underwear rubbing against his sensitive flesh. his warm precum began to soak your panties, but not as much as your pussy was.

you held his cock against you and adjusted your positioning so that you could ride the length of him. going back and forth against him, the raw friction of fabric against sensitive skin sent sylus into a frenzy, gripping the sides of the couch as he watched you basically dry hump him when he should be deep inside you.

“kitten,” he gritted, holding back a guttural groan. you responded with a lascivious moan, almost vibrating from the stimulation from just dry riding his cock. sylus’ hands flew to your hips and lifted you up with just a fraction of his strength. his cock flew back and hit his abs with a soft plap! 

“i’m growing impatient,” he lowly whispered, his eyes slowly darkening with desire and arousal. he was in no position to play along with you anymore. he was ready to fuck you good. “so i’m going to ask you again. are you ready for us to continue?”

you ferociously nodded, holding his face in your hands engulfing him in another kiss. you invited his tongue into your mouth to explore and savour you, occasionally greeting it with your own. as you felt yourself sinking into the kiss, you felt your pantie get moved aside before a long finger slid into you. you gasped momentarily before sylus caught your lips again, swallowing your eventual moan as his finger curled inside you.

“answer the question.”

“yes, sylus, i’m ready for you,” you panted. “i’m ready.”

and with that, sylus did not hold back further. his finger pumped into your wet pussy in slow rhythm before pushing a second in. your body trembled at the feeling, tensing as his fingers pumped deeper into you whilst curling to find that special area of yours.

“so wet,” he commented, pecking kisses along your neck. “soaking through your pretty underwear just for me. imagine how much harder i’m getting just from watching you.”

you didn’t even think it was possible for that to happen. a third finger slid in right as you were about to respond, pulling a deep moan out of you. being stretched out like this was not new, but with sylus it gave a more delicious sting.

“don’t squirm, sweetie,” he purred, curving all three digits in you again. “this is necessary if you want my cock to fit in well without hurting you.”

you couldn’t say much other than nod. getting so mindless over his fingers was worrying. what would his cock feel like? 

sylus slowly removed his fingers, watching how your slick nectar connected to each one before slowly licking it off one of his fingers whilst locking his eyes on you. such an erotic tease. he rubbed his other– still slick– fingers on your lips, painting them in your wetness. you slowly opened your mouth and leaned your head forward to take his fingers in.

“fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth, watching your tongue clean him up slipping and swirling around him. he just imagined what it would be like to fuck your pretty mouth until you were drooling with his cum.

“me,”

“what?”

“fuck me, sylus.” you gave him a look of determination and need. that was all he had to hear. a loud rriiiiiip snapped you out of your daze, and a light draft fanned at your ass. 

“sylus!”

“hmm?” he smiled, pulling off your now shredded underwear from your body.

“that was my favourite set!” you pouted, even though you were heavily attracted to that move from him.

“you know i’ll get you new ones,” sylus scoffed, moving your hips to align your pussy with the tip of his cock. he knew you were on the pill. how? he accompanied you to get them and pestered you whenever you forgot. he adored you but he also cared immensely for your wellbeing.

“i love that you wore that set today,” he grinned looking up at you and pecked your nipples before gently suckling them for a few seconds. “love the red.” he paused, wanting to ask you once more for confirmation.

you nodded before he could ask. “i’m good and ready when you are– o-oh,”

his tip prodded at your entrance and was welcomed with slick warmth sucking him into you. he stopped half way in, slowly breathing to be accustomed to the feeling of your pussy clamping on his cockhead so tightly he almost came on the spot. you had let out a gasp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders with your nails.

“are you alright?” he asked. beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. you nodded. “let’s continue.”

slowly, you sank down onto him swallowing his cock, intentionally squeezing him to watch him squirm and moan from your tightness. you gently laughed, giving away your teasing which sylus quickly caught onto. he scoffed out a laugh and bucked his hips up to yours, ramming the rest of his cock into you with just a bit still outside. 

you moaned from the instantaneous move, barely recovering from it when that evil grey haired man began to thrust into you, pulling his cock in and out gradually increasing his pace. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you tried to follow his pace, riding him to meet his hips whenever he thrusted up into you.

“oh fuck, kitten your pussy is so tight,” he moaned, pushing deeper and harder into you. your eyes crossed feeling like he reached a spot you didn’t realise existed. “must have hit your g-spot, hm? oh, baby you feel so good around me”

you could barely respond, overwhelmed by the new wave of pleasure you were receiving. hearing his sexy noises while fucking his cock into you was bringing you faster to your climax than your vibrator ever had. and all so quickly too. but it seemed he was also drawing near to cumming too.

“just– ah, fuck– so tight!” he could barely swallow his whines as your hips meet faster and harder. “that tight pussy’s about to make me cum, kitten. g-gosh fuck me– you see what you do to me?”

rendered speechless, you could only nod. and it only took a few more thorough thrusts before you spasmed all over his cock, throwing your head back as you climaxed. just seconds after, a gush of hot, cum flowed into your pussy, making you so weak in the knees you couldn’t move. sylus fuck his cum into you, moaning your name. 

despite that brief finish, you both knew you wanted more.

“again,” his voice rumbled in demand. you rasped your agreement, about to move when an idea came to your mind. 

“sylus,”

“mm.”

“let’s go to the shower.”

he looked up at you with a raised brow. “you feel dirty already? kitten, we’ve barely started.”

“no, you crow,” you smacked his large chest in irritation. “i mean, let’s continue in the shower.”

sylus momentarily paused, blankly staring at you. you always wondered what went through his mind when he did that. in that instance, he rose to his feet carrying you while his cock was still lodged in your pussy. not only that, he was still alarmingly hard despite cumming already, 

“you didn’t think i’d be done after such a small round, did you?” he grinned. “we’re just getting started.” you didn’t know whether to be afraid or dangerously aroused more than before.

you went through your bedroom to your bathroom, where sylus eventually set you to your feet. his cum began to slowly ooze out of you, travelling down your legs and painting them in the evidence of the mess that would have been made on your couch.

the bathroom began to steam slightly as the water ran. a large hand was held out for you– sylus offering it for you to join him. as you entered, your lips were immediately occupied with his, tied in a dance of need and insatiable greed that only the two of you could soothe for each other.

“you’re so perfect, sylus,” you sighed on his lips. “you’ve always been so great, such an amazing person in my life.” you kissed him again. “just want to show you how grateful i am for you.”

“you already have,” he pecked your cheeks. “just by being in my life.”

your kisses, gradually intensified as you touched each other, stimulating your needs before sylus gently moved you against the glass wall of the shower and picked you up hooking your legs over his shoulders and pressing your weight on the glass to keep you in place.

he gently lowered you back into him, instantly filling you up with his cock again. each time felt like it had gotten thicker. sylus regained proper footing on the wet tiles, slowly thrusting up into you before his pace quickened, going faster and harder until your pretty tits bounced from the sheer force of being fucked against the glass shower wall. 

and that wasn’t near how fast he planned to plough your sweet pussy. he had so much more in store for you. so much he’d been waiting to do. control was no longer a word in his vocabulary.

“ooh, just– fuck– just– just like that sy– so good!” you hiccuped, gripping onto his hair with one hand and scratching his nape with the other. 

through the fog, you could see your reflection, his back muscles flexing and shining in sweat along with the heat, his light grey hair flattened and drenched sticking to his flushed skin, his lips so tantalisingly close to your ear, huffing out praises and moans all while nibbling at your flesh.

“how are you still so tight, kitten?” he purred, pounding into you like his life depended on it. his hands tightly gripped your thighs indenting marks onto them, another sign of him marking his territory. “gonna fuck you so deep ‘n paint you with my cum.”

thrust after thrust his cock travelled deeper and deeper into you than it had earlier, pounding your weeping cunt so much that the squelches from a mixture your slick wetness and his cum became louder than the sound of your shower. sylus slowly pulled his cock back until his cockhead peeked out then slammed himself back up into you, finding that carnal spot of yours again. your eyes instantly crossed upon the impact, ripping a raw cry from deep within your throat.

“you sound like music,” he groaned, you could feel him smiling against your neck as he licked and suckled multiple rude, disrespectful bruises onto your skin. marking you as his and his alone for all of linkon and the n109 to see. “beautiful melody for just me to hear, sweetie.” he drew back and pulled out of you slowly and thrust clean into you once more before setting you down to the floor. 

you wasted no time grabbing his shoulders and pulled him into a lustful, needy kiss, engulfing him in your adoration and enticement. he occasionally nipped your lower lip, groaning at the feeling of your hand creeping down his abdomen to stroke his neglected, twitching cock. it was drenched and leaking with precum again, as if there would never be an end to how much he could stuff you and cover you with it. the warm water pelted your skin, making you hotter and more breathless as the seconds went by. 

“i’m going to give you everything you could ever want in this life,” he struggled to say whilst attempting to hold back the noises boiling deep in his chest. “my life, my heart, and my soul is yours, sweetheart.”

within an instant, you found your front pressed against the glass with your hands held behind your back. his lips grazed you ear, whispering his need for you as his warm cock circled your entrance, sliding up and down from the curve of your ass to his tip poking your aching clit.

“sylus,” you shivered, leaning back to rest on him before you lost balance– or even consciousness. you couldn’t tell how long you had been going on for anymore, and frankly you couldn’t care less. the tether between the two of you had wrapped so strongly that you couldn’t spend a second not being on each other.

“yes?” his hand gently tapped your chin so you could turn your face to him. he pecked the corner of your lip and rammed himself back into you without warning, forcing out a loud moan through your lips. those rough, and crude thrusts pounded through your tight, needy cunt, which was squeezing around his girth as much as possible. body pressed against the glass, the reflection of your fucked out face with sylus dazed and so drunk in your pussy made you clench harder.

“fuck, my– fuck,” his hips began to stutter and his cock throbbed in warning. the shower wall began to shake from the continuous impact of your bodies slamming together, clapping and squelching as if you just couldn’t be any closer. “if you squeeze again– oh, kitten, i’m going to fill you to the brim.”

he sunk his teeth deep into your flesh sending jolts of new pleasure down your spine, making you both moaning messes. his hands travelled around your body until his dominant hand settled on your abandoned clit to rub and swirl, and the other attacking your nipples– fondling and pinching them with greed to force out your most animalistic nature. your back arched helping you buck yourself into his hips, wanting to feel so much more of him, even though he had already abused your g-spot so much.

you sobbed and whined, singing praises to sylus for what he was doing to get you so horny for him. “keep fucking me like that, sy- fuck, please!” your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to hold onto him to stop yourself from collapsing. if it wasn’t his cock poking your cervix at this point, it was a sign that you were reaching your limit. “give me– can’t think– give it to me!”

neither of you could think that much, really. with you being so hypnotised and enamoured by his huge cock while he drowned and was drunk in your pussy, there wasn’t much to question. you both had a synonymous goal.

“gonna give it to you, kitten,” sylus seethed while licking your skin in ferocious lust, all he wanted and needed was to feel and taste you so he would do just that.

he felt so good inside your delectable pussy, loved how you tightened around him. he wanted to just cum on the spot, over and over and fuck you in every nook and cranny of your apartment then in each and every one of the properties he owned. he didn’t want to stop until every room you two entered was left smelling of cum and sex. who would he be to not desire such pleasure with someone as beautiful, powerful, and sexy as you?

“look at us, sweetie,” he huffed, momentarily stopping to push his cock as deeply into you as possible, completely bottoming out inside of you until all that would be seen was his balls flush against your pussy. he took long, deep, malicious strokes into you, the glass wall threatening to topple over. “look at yourself while i fuck you good, while i stuff my cock right into you.”

your eyes landed on your reflection but you couldn’t help yourself from watching him reduce you to slutty putty. making you feel like such a needy slut for his cock and his hot, thick cum.

“so pretty,” he moaned, throwing his head back. he could feel his orgasm nearing, his body was beginning to falter. “so definitely mine.” 

the perverted reflection of you fucking yourself on his cock while he simultaneously bucked into you had taken you over the edge. your eyes rolled back and your jaws loosened as your body stilled. you let out a hoarse cry as you unfolded, tightly gripping onto him as you became undone, cumming around his cock, your walls squeezing and fluttering around him causing a wave of cum to fill you alongside his thrusts. 

you were so full already that his cum leaked out your pussy in spurts, dripping down your legs and hitting the walls. another wave washed over you, and you could feel so much spurting out of you, spraying the wall and dripping down your bodies. you paused, still feeling sylus rutting his cum into you from behind. 

you squirted. and he had quickly realised it too, from how his pace quickened again. you had felt his cock grow much harder even though he already came.

“fuck, you made such a mess kitten, wanna make you do it again,” he panted, pinching his eyes shut. “gonna fuck you so good, you squirt over and over.”

you still couldn’t understand how he got so hard so quickly but your pussy wasn’t done being fucked just yet. he quickly pulled himself out, his cock slapping against his abdomen still spurting out thick globs of cum. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder and bottomed out deep into you again, with a whole new angle. you both groaned at the feeling, your pussy being stretched by the curve of his depth, creaming and fluttering on it before he could thoroughly fuck you again.

he didn’t waste another second viciously stimulating your clit with his fingers while his cock aggressively drove into you, slapping your skin against his in a quickened rhythm. it didn’t take much before your poor, soaked cunt squeezed you into another orgasm, creaming a white ring around his base. you screamed, feeling a rush of pleasure force out an intense round of your nectar going everywhere onto your abdomen and his, ultimately making you squirt for the second time tonight. 

you felt another gush of cum stuff your pussy as a whimper left sylus’ lips. you couldn’t help but love the fact that he got off just from you squirting. and that got you so much hornier, so needy to do more. but you doubted if your body was capable of handling that. you felt his cock slowly soften as you came down from your highs. he muttered something about wanting to stay inside you a bit longer, and you allowed it, also not wanting to be separated from him being in you just yet. maybe it was the aether cores keeping you attached.

moments passed as you both recovered from your orgasms, resting on each other, whispering praises, and kissed each other in dazed exhaustion. the running water rinsed away most of the cum and slick from your bodies, leaving the rest to be cleaned off once you were both ready.

“that was beautiful,” you murmured as you pulled away from his lips. sylus rested his forehead on yours, still trying to regain his breath. he reached to make the water slightly colder.

“you did so well,” he smiled. “i’m glad i was patient.”

as you began to clean each other up, as exhausted as you were, you felt satisfied. and at peace. sylus was a good ally and companion of yours but from the way things are looking now, you’re more than happy to take things much further.

a/n: I literally started playing lads a few days ago and OMG LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ITS SOO GOOD