#Sleeping to the rain noises is quite nice too

[havethetouch]

Rest for a bit with me, join me at the rainshroom.

#It arrived on monday #I feel so much peace #Sleeping to the rain noises is quite nice too

[shotmrmiller]

Uninvited, Unexpected.

a/n: it's nice until the very end. it hints at baby trapping. one solid sentence that's kinda degrading (i couldn't help myself ok) this was in the works for so long, i did so much research just to use words. english is hard. and ignore the plot holes, for my sake. my sanity.

this is SMUT. 18+mdni please (if im missing anything else, lmk)

ty to my wonderful beta readers @waves-against-a-cliff & @xoxunhinged

wc: 3,1K

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader

my contribution to the @glitterypirateduck ghost challenge. idc if i wrote it much earlier lol.

You're awoken by a loud noise. At first, you think you dreamt it. Exploding head syndrome, maybe. You strain your hearing but it's quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling, its old bones creaking in the dead of night. Rain gently patters against the windows, blurring the world outside.

A flash of sudden light illuminates the bedroom, casting elongated shadows across the floor, followed by a loud crack that rattles the glass. Thunder. You should've guessed.

The frantic beating of your heart slows to a gentle roll, and your eyes leaden with sleep. The soft pillows beckon, the warm blankets cradle you as you sink back onto the mattress.

Only for you to be snapped back into reality, drowsiness dissipating like a morning mist.

Someone's knocking on your door.

Your heart is in your throat as you quickly peel off the blankets, the chill of the floorboards underneath your bare feet seeping into your bones.

In the bookshelf sits the gun Simon had given you before he had moved out, the rumble of his voice a ghost in your ear. "For protection," he'd murmured, placing the cold metal onto your open palms. "Jus' in case."

Your trembling fingers fumble as you search for it in the dark, flinching as a couple of books spill from the shelf onto the floor, pages rustling in your urgency.

The knocking persists.

The metal of the grip is unyielding in your clammy hands. You've never tested it before, never had the displeasure. As you hold it close to your chest with a quivering breath, you hope tonight won't change that.

Simon's instructions echo in your mind as you approach the front door. "Thumb the safety. Hold the grip with both hands. Do not, under any circumstance, put your finger on the trigger unless you're plannin' on sendin' hate. Clear?"

Your throat tightens, a phantom snake coiling around the narrow passage, and panic grips your heart as you reach for the blinds, slowly hooking two fingers and carefully pulling down to look at who is—

Simon.

Simon?

Sweat-slick fingers flip the light switch before quickly undoing the locks, the hinges groaning in protest as the door opens.

"What the hell?"

It's Simon, disheveled— maskless— swaying on his feet. His eyes are half-closed and unfocused. Johnny's holding him up by the arm, struggling to keep him upright.

"S'ry, bonnie. We wen' out fer a few 'nd clearly, he's out 'is face. Quite crabbit, too. He said ye'd let 'em sleep 'ere," he slurs.

Simon's not the only one who's pissed. With a resigned sigh, you gesture at the couch with your free hand. "There, I guess."

That he thought of you even in his drunken haze tugs at your fragile heartstrings.

Johnny guides him to the catch, a quiet C'mon LT to spur him forward. Heavy boots thud against the floor as they stumble toward the living room while you carefully place the gun on the kitchen countertop before reaching for a water bottle in the pantry. Johnny snickers under his breath as Simon collapses onto the sofa, the springs protesting his weight.

Two bottles, then.

You watch Simon's head loll as you hand Johnny the water. "Tell me you aren't the one driving, Johnny," you grumble.

He takes it with a quiet thanks. "Naw. Cap'n's stone cold sober."

Small mercies.

Johnny gives Simon a rough slap to the side of his leg as he bids him goodbye, pulling you in for an embrace tight enough that your spine pops before walking out the door.

You let out another sigh as the lock clicked back into place. The tangy, sour scent of stale alcohol mixed with stings at your nose, as does the invasive smell of smoke.

His boots are mud-caked, and you'll be damned if he stains your nice furniture with his mess. "Shoes off." He groans but complies. The laces come undone quickly, and you tug his shoes off with a grunt. "Simon."

His glassy eyes meet yours. "Drink your water." The burning need to chuck it at his head is one you have to vehemently smother into embers. Moron. Only Simon would have the gall to show up unannounced months after the separation. And drunk.

You push the bottle into his chest roughly and make to go back to bed when he encircles his hand around your wrist and the world spins on its axis, suddenly finding yourself beneath him with his face nestled in the crook of your neck.

Simon's breath is hot against your skin, the weight of his body pinning you down so achingly familiar. It stirs up past memories that would have you pressing your thighs together if he wasn't right there, using his broad waist to spread them apart.

"Missed ya, love." A confession. "S'much."

The breath you draw is jagged, his slow-spoken words hanging in the air. You want to push him away, scream at him for stumbling in and disrupting your night, your rest, your carefully crafted peace. But there's a part of you that can't help but soften at the tenderness in his tone.

"Simon," you whisper. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying—" his lips find your fluttering pulse. You find purchase in his shirt, shaky fingers grasping at the hem.

"'M drunk, no' no liar." Your resolve wavers. No, he never had been. Honesty hadn't been the reason for the split. It wasn't the truth he'd spoken but the truths he'd kept to himself. A fortress around his heart, the bridge to its gates raised. Unwilling to share a burden, share a life.

His warm tongue licks a hot stripe up your neck reaching the lobe of your ear where his blunt teeth sink into it. A choked gasp spills from your mouth, spine arching in reflex— your treacherous body remembering his touch, yearning for it.

"Simon—" your words get caught in your throat; snag like fishhooks when he undulates his hips, arousal creeping along your veins like ivy.

"Don't ya miss me, pet?" You've asked him to not call you that because it never fails to stoke the fire in your belly, to sodden your knickers. Before you can chide him on his choice of words, he shifts. One arm, an inked column under the soft light of the living room, holds him up just enough to bring his rugged face into focus. His eyes, like a stormy night's sky, swirl with untamed desire.

You know it's dangerous to play with fire. Touch it and burn, ache, blister. But the passion of this old flame beckons like a siren with sharp teeth. Each drag of his prominent erection against your core only succeeds in pulling you away from the shore of clarity. It's disorienting, insistent.

Relentless.

"My pretty little love," he mumbles. Simon's gaze drags from your glassy eyes to the delicate contours of your collarbone. His fingers trace lines of intimacy onto the swell of your breasts before using the pad of his thumb to swirl the stiffened peak of your nipple. "Say the word 'nd it all stops."

The scent of alcohol clings to him, a bitter reminder of the loss of inhibitions it brings as it warms one's chest. Blurred lines he might not mind, but you do. Lost boundaries. Rejection sits on the tip of your tongue, on the edge of your teeth when he says something that frays the last threads of your resolve.

It comes undone.

"Please. Jus' tonigh'. All I need." His words sound like footsteps in winter mire, slushed, syllables blending together.

You'll just have to kick him out on his arse in the morning.

"Okay," you breathe. Just one night, you tell yourself. He's always been good to you in the bedroom. One last hurrah wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll allow you to finally close this painful chapter in your life and start anew, with pristine white pages and fresh ink.

Your hands, trembling with nerves and anticipation, cradle his face. The roughness of his stubble in contrast with the softness of your palms is grounding, keeping you from being pulled under your own swirling emotions.

" 'M righ' 'ere, love. You're safe with me, always." He whispers the last words reverently, a vow. Simon's breath mingles with yours as he leans in for a kiss.

The world around you fades, your senses tunneled on the feel of his lips, the taste of him— mildly sweet with a hint of peppermint. He slants his head to deepen the kiss, and the bruising ache in your heart is replaced by another, one that burns brightly and threatens to sweep you away.

The lulling sound of the pouring rain outside is drowned out by the beating of your racing heart.

The bed creaks when Simon perches you on the edge of it, quietly ordering you to take your top off.

"What about my bottoms?" You bite down on the gummy inside of your cheek when he pins you in place with a look— a predator eyeing its prey.

"Those are mine." Resounding. Final. A gavel in a courtroom.

You fling your shirt off, tossing it into some forgotten corner in the room, and cheekily watch Simon undress. It's not methodical like it used to be. No longer a means to an end. Experienced fingers undo the buckle of his belt before he takes it off, the leather material snapping in the air, slicing through the silence.

A quip tumbles out of your mouth faster than you can stop it. "Gonna spank me with that?"

The air around you thickens— or thins, you can't be sure— when his eyes flash to you. He kicks off his jeans, one foot after the other, wobbling as he does. "Tha' wha' you want?" The words he didn't say ring out loud and clear.

Don't rattle the cage, sweetheart. This dog isn't muzzled.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from saying anything else, something that he might take you up on, instead focusing on the way his heavy cock hangs in between legs (dangling with each step forward—)

"M'eyes are up 'ere." Your nose scrunches at his joke. Cute.

He lowers himself onto his knees, your legs cradling his face as it hovers over your sex, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your heated skin.

The sleeping shorts you're wearing are ratty and worn. They're thin too, practically translucent from constant use. Which means that he can see that you're not wearing any undergarments underneath.

"Hope you know I can—" Heat licks up the sides of your jaw, pooling in your cheeks as you cut him off with a snappy remark.

"Yes. I know."

The tip of his pointed tongue drags along the seam of your shorts, right along your slit. Your breath hitches, and you clench your jaw to keep from making a sound. Your back bows involuntarily, the feeling startling, intense.

"Can see tha' clear as day, as if lookin' through a windowpane, pet," he taunts. The words that are forming, almost ready to spill out, freeze in place when his mouth comes in direct contact with your slippery cunt. He licks once, twice, through your folds, slightly dipping into your slick entrance, only pulling away to nuzzle your pearl with his misaligned nose.

"Sweet as a peach, jus' like I remember," he purrs, the timbre of his voice buzzing against your puffy lips. "Missed this." A mewl slithers past your grit teeth when he gently sinks one thick finger into you, curling and twisting. Arousal drips onto his knuckle, tracing a hot path down to his wrist. He coos at you when he adds another digit, hissing at the sharp but brief pinprick of the stretch.

"Bloody fuckin' tight." Simon rises off the floor, the quiet sound of his knees popping swallowed up by your harsh pants. "Gotta let me in, love. Relax."

He keeps the thrusts shallow, his fingers dragging deliciously along your nerve endings. The sting soon fades, giving way to a gentle warmth that unfurls inside of you, letting Simon reach deeper until—

Your muscles stiffen, tight like a spring when he brushes over the rough patch of skin that has bursts of light appearing across your eyelids.

"Look at ya. Droolin' like a mutt with my fingers stuffed up your pretty cunt."

There's a pressure in your lower belly that's steadily building with each sloppy thrust of his hand, pulling squelching noises from your sodden pussy. He finally, finally, latches onto your neglected clit, lightly sucking on it in tandem with his fingers.

Your chin drops to your chest as everything nears a breaking point. The pressure inside you has your body wound tight. The fibers of your muscles contract, almost painfully, preparing for the release of what's to come, what can't be ignored.

The swirling of his golden tongue pushes against the boundaries of your endurance, pushes you to the precipice, where you finally hit the point of no return. You can feel something about to give, ecstasy trickling through the cracks in your foundation, uncontrollable, raw. Your fingers thread through Simon's hair, curling tightly, pulling it taut when you feel something about to give—oh fuck—

Snap.

The structure that holds everything in place collapses.

A sudden release of pent-up energy and emotion erupts like a dam bursting, a cleansing flood that washes away the grime of old wounds, of bitterness, leaving the edges softened so they can heal; knit closed and scar over. Closure. It touches every part of you, filling you with a sense of liberation.

Your heart beats freely, it throbs with life as a wave of relief washes over you, soothing, a balm over scraped flesh, a rush of cool air into starved lungs.

A lightness that comes after being weighed down with burdens for so long.

Simon's hands encircle your arms firmly— fingers digging into the meat of your biceps— and effortlessly maneuvers you toward the center of the bed as if your lethargic form were a feather caught in a breeze; weightless, insignificant.

Gentle but unyielding.

There's a ringing in your ears that muffles his voice, blurring the edges of his words, an unintelligible hum, as if you were underwater. The sensation leaves you feeling adrift in a tranquil sea, cradled in its silken embrace. The only anchor you have to the muzzy reality is his warm touch.

"'M sorry, sweetheart. I can't," he apologizes, hooking your right leg over his shoulder. You let out a sibilant hiss as he leans forward, pushing your knee to your chest, the corded muscle of your hamstring pulling to its limit. "Can't wait anymore, 'm sorry."

Simon gives you a sloppy kiss as his heaving length prods at your swollen entrance, the tip breaching your pussy with a warm burn that starts from under your navel and only flares, radiating from your core outward. It's searing, the initial bite of the stretch disrupts the haze in your muddled mind, bringing the world around you into cutting clarity.

A guttural noise claws up his throat as Simon sheathes himself halfway, his growled words not the salve he was hoping for. It only grates at already raw nerves, abrasive.

"Jus' a little more, you can take it." He winds a hand downward to draw messy circles on your slippery clit, to stifle the roaring fire in your stomach, your chest. "You already have."

His jerky touch does its job, transforming the sharp burn of him wrenching your walls apart fiber by fiber into a quiet glow; smoldering heat now simmering. You soften, mellow and pliant, accept him into your body as he sinks to the hilt with a quiet groan.

"There's my girl. Takin' all of it like you were made f'me." Simon's words of praise tangle around your spine, electric, prickling. Your heart gallops like a herd of horses, wild and free. "Liked tha' did you? Jus' about strangled my cock with your tight cunt."

He rolls his hips once, twice, searching for signs of discomfort, but when only warm pleasure laps at your heels, when the barest of moans spill from your open lips, Simon begins to put his weight behind his thrusts.

Through half-lidded eyes, you see a raw, primal hunger reflected in his eyes— his soul, the one he'd claimed to have lost long ago, back with his reason, his sanity.

Yet he looks down at you as if you were his only salvation. A lifeline he grabs onto with an unyielding grip, his only tether to hope, purpose. A lighthouse shining in a raging storm, a beacon calling him home.

Simon presses a large hand onto your lower stomach, his work-worn palm pushing until you wince, brows furrowing at the fleeting whisper of pain.

"Can feel myself right here," he sluggishly mumbles, drunk of the feel of your cunt, the taste of your skin on his tongue— sweet like ripened figs. The sensory overload has him sinking his fingers into your flesh until it dimples.

He murmurs something under his taxed breath, something akin to mine, only mine as his lips leave a slick trail of saliva on the dip of your collarbone, the gentle curve of your shoulder, the thin, soft skin of your bicep up to your inner wrist, where he laps at your pulse.

As if savoring the present. The precious gift he's unwrapped, here and now. The last taste of you, which he hopes with a reverence that borders on prayer, lingers on his tongue long after the fruit— the sweet evidence of this one last intimacy— falls from the bough.

Simon comes with his teeth in the crook of your neck, biting down with a crushing pressure that has an acute pain digging its spurs into your consciousness, cutting the blazing euphoria of your own release short.

His cock is still twitching as he fills you with his spend when he takes his thumb and collects some of your slick to take you over the edge one last time.

"F'me. You can take it, yeah? I'll go slow, I promise."

Simon presses a kiss on your sweaty temple, his large hand cupping your jaw as he lazily watches you succumb to sleep, your breath evening out.

He reaches for your arm again, feeling for the birth control implant you'd had there when the both of you were still together.

Gone.

Sweet girl. You'd let him in without a fight. (He makes a mental note to wash the beer off of his clothes tomorrow.)

He knows your cycle better than the lines that are etched onto his palm. Better than the voice of the captain who rumbles in his earpiece, ordering him to go for the throat.

From the moment you'd stepped into his life with eternity in your eyes and the warmth of the sun on your lips, you were his. And he'll do anything to remain in your orbit.

(left unable to distinguish prison from paradise when each poison-coated kiss softens the world he'll build for you and for what's to come.)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #GhostChallenge

[undiscovered-horizon]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

[Just a sunny afternoon with bear Halsin. What more can a heart desire?]

Halsin claims that sleeping in his bear form provides better rest. Whether that is true or not, you have no way to know. But no matter what the truth is, the druid comes out the winner anyway: he's lightly napping, drifting in and out of slumber, while you're leaning against him.

For the past week, it's been raining on and off. Cold wind nipped at your skin, even sneaking its way into your tent and making sure you shuddered uncomfortably for an hour or two before finally falling asleep. Nighttime storms left you carrying drenched clothes for long hours.

But today, the weather is exceptionally nice. Warm sunlight is peeking through the crowns of the tall trees. Wind, much gentler than for the past few days, is only strong enough to make long blades of grass sway from side to side. Even birds seem to enjoy the change - their melodic songs are carried by the forest's echo.

Halsin and you have decided to spend your day off from travelling in a small gathering. Although your companions-turned-friends are a delightful bunch, the rather crowded camp doesn't allow much liberty in terms of intimacy. Not to mention the sheer noise of so many people going about their day, cramped in one place...

The woods are as silent as nature can be - filled with rustling, birdsong, chirping and chirring. It's the whispering of nature, Silvanus himself enjoying the chatter of his creations. On days as pleasant as today, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that he's wandering among the trees, checking in on things, so to speak.

Your back is leaning against Halsin's massive bear frame. With each of his sleepy, shallow breaths, your entire body is moving along them. Every now and then, he lets out a snore and you can't help the loving smile curling your lips. When was the last time he was allowed so much peace?

Dry paper rustles as you turn over the page. Your voice resounds in this part of the woods as you continue reading aloud the book you found just a few days ago. It's a typical, run-of-the-mill court drama but written well enough to have you thinking about something other than the rather unwelcome guest squirming inside your skull.

But the tale of prudish ladies and cunning servants is suddenly brought to a halt as you yawn and stretch your arms. It's been at least an hour or two since Halsin and you have sat down.

The bear underneath you opens one of his eyes curiously. His careful gaze studies your visibly tired face.

"Lay with me, my heart," he says in a groggy voice. There is nothing pressuring about his tone but you feel so enticed to fulfil his words that you don't have the mind to argue against.

Soon you find yourself lying on the ground, cuddled into the side of a bear. Which, by itself, sounds quite funny. And you do chuckle quietly but not because you find the situation humours - no, it's the all-consuming cosiness that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. His fur is thick and soft, as though a moment of distraction could cause you to fall into him.

Halsin, consciously or not, shift his bear body to engulf you a little more. Although a frame of that size is awkward to manoeuvre, he tries to fit his body around your curled-up physique. If it wasn't for the absolutely crushing weight of his wildshape form, Halsin would probably lay himself on top of you to satiate his desire to take care of you.

For the first time in long weeks, snuggled up to a snoring bear, you feel content and safe.

___

I have thought about having a nap with bear Halsin like two weeks ago and that thought has not left ever since. Actually, I think it's already built a house in my head.

#halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x you #halsin fanfiction #halsin imagine #halsin fanfic #halsin bg3 #bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #bg3 x tav #bg3 fluff #halsin fluff

[totaly-obsessed]

can you write for mary where readers ment to be away working but shows up at an important game and surprises her

Two-Week Notice

Mary Earps x reader request

-> Domestic fluff, reader can't attend Mary's game but surprises her.

-> Also for this request

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Meeting Mary had been one of the best moments in your life. Not because it was such a nice or cute moment, but because it let Mary into your life – bettering it by a hundred times.

The goalkeeper had just moved into a new Apartment building after joining Manchester United after a season at Wolfsburg, and she had not met anyone in her building. Life had come at the 26-year-old hard and fast.

And just as fast came the first fire alarm at her new place, and while she had been warned that the alarm often malfunctioned, she would not take any chances. After a quick walk through her apartment, checking that every window was closed and that she had grabbed her essentials, she was out the door into the flooding rain.

You however had lived in the building for a while and should have a routine by now when you were rudely ripped out of your well-deserved sleep. But you did in fact not have a routine, panicking every time.

This day was no different.

You were the last one out of the building, as usual – with no jacket. The rain was not something that you took notice of at first, too shocked that there actually was a fire in the building. It was a taller woman, with a very friendly smile who made you aware. “Aren’t you cold, love?”

As if a switch had been flipped, you started to shiver. “Forgot my jacket.” Mary was a goner the second she saw you shivering in the cold rain, the only thing in your hands, being a pillow, while she had her entire training kit.

The footballer didn’t hesitate to extend her jacket around you, effectively pulling you so close to her, that you could feel the heat radiating off of her. “You don’t mind, do ya?”

That was the beginning of something wonderful. Before you started dating, many evenings were spent together as ‘friends’ cooking and watching movies together. You listened to Mary moan about training and her teammates and she would sit and listen to you complain about your annoying co-workers who apparently could not function without you.

And while it was easy to fall in love with Mary, it was even easier to love her.

It took two months until you officially started dating each other. The first move was made by Mary who just sat you down one evening and asked you out on a date. Just like that, with a calm and collected mind, like she was playing one of the biggest games of her life.

A year later you moved into her apartment. It was the bigger one and your lease came to an end. If the two of you were being honest you could have moved in with each other the second you started dating – you could practically count the days you had spent in your own four walls on one hand.

One of Mary’s favorite parts of living together was the joined naps. Most of the time when she had come home from training you were on the couch napping, trying to stay awake until the goalkeeper came home, but you never quite managed – too tired from the early shift you had worked. After changing she would join you on the couch, setting an alarm so that you would not sleep away the day.

Waking you from your slumber was another one of the brunettes’ favorite moments. You were just so cute. Scrunched nose, red cheeks, and adorable whining that it was much too cold. Mary tended to stare at you, tempted to let you sleep longer, before she eventually just kissed you awake, making you giggle – a noise she loved oh so much.

Once it was later at night and time for bed came the playful fighting. Your favorite topic to fight about? The blanket and Mary’s tendency of stealing it, which was bad enough, but also denying it – blaming it on you.

“Mary, stop hogging the blanket!” She was curled up in it like a burrito, leaving you with just a corner of it. “Mary? Who’s Mary? My name is Baby, or Love, or literally anything else.” She had turned over to you lightning fast when you had called her by her government name, clearly offended by it.

“Okay, ‘literally anything else’ move over, I wanna be warm.” A shriek of speechlessness filled the room when a mischievous smile took over her face. Carefully she unwrapped the blanket, and just as you thought that you had gotten what you wanted and could finally head to bed – she pounced.

“Mary, no. No. No! Don’t you dare! Mary!” your incredibly strong girlfriend had jumped up from the bed, picking you up and holding you like a baby, making you unable to move. You thrashed in her arms as well as you could. “I’m mad, Mary! Put me down. Put me dooown!”

Whining took over the room as you struggled, eventually making Mary lose her balance but before she dropped you and herself, she just threw her body forward, taking you with her, toppling onto the bed.

Silence filled the room for a minute, both of you lying on the messy bed. “Are you still mad?” Instead of answering you pressed your ice-cold feet onto Mary`s very warm back. Swears and shrieks left her mouth as she took your feet in her hands and jokingly rolled you over, straddling your lap. “Let’s see where this night is going, ey cheeky?”

---

---

One of your favorite aspects of living together, aside from getting to hang out with the love of your life for the entire day, was a joined wardrobe. In the beginning, both of you had sections in the huge dresser and wardrobe, but over time your section was left untouched and Mary kept missing things.

“Baby, have you seen my blue Nike hoodie?” The goalkeeper wanted to wear it to a nice night in with the Manchester City girls, but could not find it anywhere. “No! Try the bathroom.” Of course, you had seen the hoodie. You were in fact wearing it, but you hoped, that Mary wouldn’t notice.

At first, she did not, searching the entire apartment before flopping down on the couch, burying her face in your chest – when she noticed that the blue of your hoodie was familiar. “Baby, that’s mineee.” She whined at you, trying to take it off you. “Love – please no. It’s so cold without it.”

For ten long minutes Mary tried to get her clothes back when she discovered that you were also wearing her joggers and socks – but it was useless. She caved once she saw your cute pout. With a loud huff, she went back to the bedroom, getting dressed in a green version of the same hoodie. “Baby, we’re matching – look!” You excitedly held out your arm, showing the material to a very unimpressed lioness. “I think I should join you for dinner.”

“Nu-uh! You don’t deserve it – thief!” But once Mary was opening the front door, she turned to you, asking why you were not ready. She clearly didn’t expect you to be actually dressed.

But alas you were and accompanied her to dinner. While she acted all mad about it, you knew that she loved it – she loved seeing you with her teammates who took such great care of you.

The joined closet was a mutually loved concept – you loved wearing Mary’s clothes and she loved seeing you in them.

---

---

As much as you loved being a WAG, and attended every match Mary played, sometimes it just didn’t work out. That was the case for the quarterfinal of the European Championships on home soil, here in England. The girls were playing against Spain, a feisty match, an incredibly important one at that.

And you? Stuck at work.

Why? Because the men in your company decided to punish you, ‘losing’ the form you had handed in as a request to get the day off. So there you were, stuck at work while Mary was preparing for one of the most important games of her life – without you.

Not only did you have to be at work which was already annoying but your colleagues were weaponizing their incompetence more than usual, making you do everything. Just 20 minutes after kick-off you have had enough. So you stood up, entered your boss's office, and handed in your two-week notice that you had filled out for a while now.

And with that, you just left. Ignoring your boss and colleagues who told you that you could not just leave.

Ten minutes later you entered the Falmer stadium, joining Mary’s parents in the family section who immediately ushered you off to the changing rooms. It was eerily silent as you sat down in Mary’s cubby, fidgeting with her second pair of gloves.

Just a few minutes later you could hear a bunch of cleats hitting the floor, a nervous chatter filling the hallway. Leah was the first to enter, eyes wide in surprise when she saw you. But the skipper did not say anything, as did the others who followed.

As usual, Mary was one of the last people, busy talking to Millie about what they needed to change. She nearly just sat down on you, when she finally noticed. “Baby! I thought you couldn’t come!” Kisses were spread all over your face, the brunette being teased by the other lionesses.

Quietly you explained how you had gotten there, your girlfriend happy that you finally quit, when Sarina and the coaching staff joined the girls in the room. Mary had pulled you on her lap, holding you as close to her as she could, trying to calm down and compose her thoughts.

With a good-luck kiss on her lips and gloves she left for the pitch again. Alessia and Ella followed, also wanting a good-luck kiss on their foreheads, and soon the entire squad of the lionesses had gotten a forehead kiss from you – Mary watching with curious eyes.

---

The second half was tense, especially after Esther scored in the 54th minute. But it was a freshly substituted Ella who got the equalizer in the 84th before Georgia shot the game-winning goal in the 96th. But there were still 20 minutes to go, and Mary did brilliantly.

2-1 to England and the crowd erupted in cheers once the final whistle sounded.

It was Millie and Lucy who had made their way over to you, lifting you over the barrier and onto the pitch – just to be tackled by Ella. “Your kiss helped! Ya must be my lucky charm now.” The excited brunette kissed your cheeks over, and over again, giggling in excitement.

“Get your own good-luck charm Tooney!” Mary had finally gotten to you, pulling you out of Ella’s hands and into a bruising kiss that left Ella squealing. “It's like watching my parents make out!” But you were met with whistles and claps on the back by other lionesses, who laughed at Ella’s reaction.

“I don’t think you have a choice to be at the next game, babe. Good luck charm of the whole team.” Your girlfriend’s smile was infectious, making you laugh as well, knowing damn well that you would be there at the semi-final even if hell froze over.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps

[woso-dreamzzz]

Accident

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You have a little accident in the middle of the night

You're a big girl.

You know this. Momma knows this. Morsa know this.

But you're still quite little.

Which is why you immediately burst into tears when you wake up and feel wetness. You know immediately what's happened and it makes you sob.

You'd been doing so well but sometimes in your sleep it just happens.

You feel smaller and littler than you know you are and awkwardly waddle to your slightly open door. The bathroom light is on so you pick your way through the hall easily. You push your way into the adult room and stand by Momma.

She's silent in sleep and you tap her. She stirs but doesn't wake up until you speak, voice trembling and body shaking in a mix of embarrassment and cold. "Momma. Momma."

Her eyes flutter open. "Princesse?"

"Had an accident."

Her features soften as she sits up, flicking on the bedside light. Morsa makes a noise at the sudden light in the room and blinks awake too.

Momma takes in your trembling form and your soiled pyjamas and gets out of bed. She kneels in front of you despite still being half asleep. She wipes away the tears that you hadn't even noticed were falling from your eyes.

"It's okay, princesse," She says," It's just a little accident."

"I-I didn' mean to," You insisted," Momma! Morsa! I'm sorry!"

"I know, I know. That's why it's an accident." Momma keeps speaking to you, soothing you as Morsa leaves the bed to strip and change your sheets. "Come on, let's get you in the bath."

The bath runs as she strips you of your pyjamas. Morsa comes in to take the dirty clothes without prompting and she rains kisses on your hair before she disappears to put on a load of laundry.

Your bath is warm and Momma's careful to wash all of your accident off your legs before she tries to distract you by dropping bath toys in. You ignore them, remaining morose.

You can hear Morsa shuffling around in the bedroom, changing out your ruined Scooby Doo sheets with ones that you don't like as much - maybe you Paw Patrol or Bob the Builder ones.

Either way, you hope that you haven't completely ruined your Scooby sheets. They're your absolute favourites and thinking about them being unusable causes a fresh wave of tears to spill down your cheeks.

Momma makes a sympathetic noise as she hoists you up out of the bath and dries you off.

"I can take over," Morsa says from the door, holding a new set of pyjamas," Head on back to bed, Pernille. You're exhausted."

Momma looks exhausted. She's got dark rings under her eyes so she presses a kiss to your wet cheeks. "I love you," She says firmly," And it was just an accident. Accidents like these mean nothing."

Morsa takes her place and she repeats the same sentiments. She's got one of your most favourite fluffy onesies in her hand - the one Jessie got you that makes you look like a dragon, with an attached tail, wings and face.

You whimper and push it away. "No," You whimper out," Gonna ruin it."

"You're not going to ruin it," Morsa promises," It was just an accident. You're not going to ruin these."

"Will," You insist," Like my Scooby sheets."

Morsa brings you into her embrace, her hand coming to cradle the back of your head. She rocks back and forth and the constant repetition calms you.

"Your Scooby sheets aren't ruined," She promises you," They're just getting washed. They'll be nice and clean tomorrow morning and we'll throw them in the dryer before we leave for practice so when we come home, they're nice and warm."

You nod and let her put you in your onesie. She flips up the hood over your eyes as she lifts you with ease.

She doesn't take you back to your room though. She walks back to her and Momma's room. Your protests fall on deaf ears and you're soon snuggled into the Bed Bed.

Momma is next to you, practically asleep again but she manages to catch you around the waist and tuck you into her body. Her steady puffs above your head relax you and through your sleepy eyes, Morsa smiles at you both.

Her hand brushes your hair out of your face and your eyes finally slump closed when she presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[overluvsick]

𝟑𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 — 𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨

you and muichiro chat at 3am, leading to him making sure you know that you deserve him. for context, you both are hashiras who sleep in the same estate but in different rooms. established dating.

word count : 698

you waited for the herbal tea boiling on the stove as you took part in listening to the pour of the rain outside. it was comforting to say the least as it was chilly, bringing you to take the spare blanket you kept to drape it over your shoulders.

small footsteps echoed through the halls, immediately averting your attention to the sounds. you must’ve woken up muichiro. sure enough, as he stumbled into the kitchen, his sleepy face greeted you as he made his way over.

“sorry, muichiro. didn’t mean to cause such a ruckus,” you apologized with a tired tone, “go back to bed, alright? i’ll try to be there soon.”

he had his blanket draped around his shoulders as well. his voice, equally as drained as yours, spoke as he wrapped his arms around you. “i can’t sleep. can we cuddle?”

you loved this side of him, the side that awakened once having first tried hugging you. even after he’d regained his memories, there were still some emotions that he held away from others but opened up to you, such as his clinginess.

you reciprocated muichiro’s actions, moving your arms under his blanket to feel closer to him. you slid the cover off, throwing it onto the nearby chair as well as yours.

you made a noise of approval before ruffling his hair a bit. you both listened to the pitter-patters of the rain as it felt as if you two were the only ones in the world awake at that moment.

“…i made some tea, by the way. i’ll get two cups for us.” you reluctantly separated from him, much to his dismay. as if on cue, once you got the two said cups, the tea kettle whistled for you to fetch the contents inside.

having both your drinks in hand, you and muichiro sat down at the table.

blowing the steam rising from the tea away, muichiro shimmied his chair closer to yours. small talk was a thing you’d both enjoyed on early mornings like this, so he asked, “how was your last mission?”

“went well, nothing too exciting,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your tea. “you?”

“same here. but that demon pissed me off,” his brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“oh, the infamously stoic muichiro tokito being angry? how so?” you lightly teased.

“apparently he knew about us. he cursed you out. so i slashed him to pieces after slitting his mouth.” he said, perfectly serious before his mouth curved upwards a bit sinisterly at the memory.

you giggled and said you appreciated the gesture. he rested his head on your shoulder, carefully drinking his share of the tea. “oh, muichiro, i don’t deserve you…” you murmured mostly to yourself after a pause, hoping the rain would cover what you’d said.

he lifted his head up to look at you with a questioning gaze. “what makes you say that?”

“well…”—you looked up, away from his staring—“…you just…i guess…” you stumbled over your words, figuring out how to word this.

“if anything, i don’t deserve you.” he boldly said, making you snap your head to look at him in surprise. the usually calm, “air headed” hashira saying this? even if you two had been dating for quite a while, it still took you by surprise.

he continued. “remember when we first met? and the few times after when i’d forgotten who you were and you kept having to remind me?”

“but everyone did tha—”

“and how you kept being nice to me; even if you sometimes scolded me on my arrogance, which was rightfully done, after i’d brushed you off multiple times? i think i even called you ‘annoying’ and ‘a waste of breath’.” muichiro had put his cup down on the table, holding your arm. “i take those insults back, by the way.”

“you…remember that?” you were even more in awe of him.

“…i can remember a lot about you.” he finished with a slight smile.

you smiled back and ran your fingers through his hair. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he shut his eyes, the two of you in a comforting space in time listening to the continuous rain.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #muichiro x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #kny #kny x reader #fluff #hashiras x reader #kny hashira #tokitō muichirō #demon slayer muichiro #kny muichiro #muichiro tokito #kimetsu muichiro #tokitou muichirou #tokito muichiro #3am chats #tea #rain #demon slayer tokito #demon slayer imagines #hashira #kny tokitou

[secretsandwriting]

Mate [Poly Ghouls]

Ghouls biology is different from humans in many ways. One of those many ways is they need a mate and if they don't find one in a certain timeframe, instincts take over and they get one. It would however be nice if said mate got a little more warning.

Where the ghouls haven't gotten a mate in time so instincts take over and the first person they see becomes their mate.

[Dew] [Mountain] [Aether] [Rain] [Swiss]

            It was a beautiful night, too beautiful to stay inside and lay in bed; so you gathered some blankets and headed out to a spot in the garden where you could stargaze in peace. Primo was out sitting on a bench and offered you a smile as you walked past. You knew exactly where you wanted to set yourself up. Laying out your blankets in a space between flower beds you settled down to stargaze.

            You weren’t sure how long you had been out when you heard rustling behind you. Assuming it was another sibling you ignored it until the noise got closer. When you turned your head you were met with the masks of 5 ghouls. Primo cleared his throat behind them, they didn’t turn to look at him. He sighed before pushing his way through them and offering you his hand.

            “It’s a bit late, you should probably head to bed. I’m sure Sister Imperator has quite a list of things with the upcoming events.” You took his hand and gathered your things. 

            “Yes Papa, I was thinking the same thing.” He offered you his arm and once you accepted he walked you to your room. The ghouls trailing behind you the entire way.

            You could hear them outside of your door the entire night. The soft murmuring of their talking, the occasional snort and laugh, noises that reminded you of cats, and music you were pretty sure they were making. Everytime you got up for the bathroom or to grab something, they went quiet. You were too anxious to sleep and with the upcoming themed orgy you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through the next day. 

            When it was time for you to get up you had barely slept, so slipping one of the energy drinks out of the cabinet you kept them in you downed one before getting ready. It would make your anxiety worse but maybe it would help you get through the day, probably wouldn’t but it was worth a shot. 

            When you finally opened your door to leave, the ghouls were standing to the side. Doing your best to ignore them, you headed to the dining room for breakfast. When you stepped in, all eyes went to the ghouls behind you. They normally had breakfast in their den. They had had a kitchen built there specifically because the ghouls wanted it. So for them to come in without being forced was strange to say the least. Copia and Sister Imperator made their way over to you, Sister Imperator ordering the ghouls off somewhere and Copia telling you to grab a plate of food and come with him into his study.

            With that you spent the rest of the day learning more about ghoul biology than you knew about your own biology. Sister Imperator stopped in every once in a while to make sure everything was going well, drop off lunch, and to send the ghouls away from the study door. While Copia and Sister Imperator both assured you they wouldn’t hurt you, you weren’t sure. You might be able to believe it with one ghoul but 5 of them didn’t give you the most confidence. 

            That night you found yourself tucked in between the ghouls. You were tucked into mountain’s side your head on his chest, Dew was spooning you from behind arms wrapped around your waist, Aether was spooning Dew and his arm was thrown over the two of you, his hand resting on Mountain’s waist. Rain was also using Mountain as a pillow and was holding one of your hands, Swiss was sprawled on all of your legs, his tail wrapped around your wrist.

            It would definitely take some getting used to, but you had a lot of time now. After all, they did follow you like lost puppies. But maybe it would be ok. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

            It was bad. It was very bad. Within a month of being their mate you were ready to just say screw it and try to leave them. You had so much to learn and do and it was like there was never a break. There was always a ghoul that needed attention, a new thing to learn so you could be of service to the ministry, there was always another ghoul that needed attention as well, more things to learn, making sure the ghouls went to practice and a repeat of it all over again the next day. 

            There was no break, it was just constant and you were tired. If any of the ghoul got into trouble, including the ones you weren’t mated to, everyone in the Ministry came to you. You weren’t sure why they thought you would have sway over the era 1 ghouls but they did. Whether or not that's a compliment you also weren’t sure. 

            It was a lot and it became obvious to Sister Imperator that you were really struggling to juggle everything you needed to do. So she called you into her office to try and work out a way to make it easier on you. The solution she had for it wasn’t something you would have thought she would suggest. A complete stop on learning your new work so you could focus on getting used to the ghouls and get their instincts down to a more normal level before continuing your studies. The ghouls wouldn’t be dismissed from their work unless necessary which would also give you some much needed alone time.

            It was an adjustment going from constantly doing something to having a ton of free time but the down time was needed. The ghouls certainly enjoyed being able to get out of practice and not have to try to find you in the ministry. You ended up spending time with all the ghouls as well. With so much time spent in the ghoul’s den you just got to know the other ghouls without particularly meaning too. 

            Which was helpful when a sister came complaining to you that one of the 2nd era ghouls was bothering her. 

            You started spending more time in the gardens, your favorite spot was a little bench in front of a small pond. A small pond you watched Rain jump in no hesitation and stay at the bottom for 10 minutes, only coming up when he thought you might be leaving. Once he realized you weren’t he went back to the bottom of the pond. It ended up being Rain and your spot.

            You also became familiar with the library meant for those higher up, which now included you due to your relationship with the ghouls. This is where you spent the most one on one time with Dew. He loved to just sit in the fireplace while it was lit. You weren’t sure how his clothes came out untouched other than by soot but you never asked. 

            Swiss shared the regular library with you. He didn’t mind the stares as much as the others, so any trip to the library the other siblings frequented you were accompanied by Swiss. He would lounge on a couch close to you, sometimes he would pick up a book or take a nap. 

            Walks were Mountain’s. He loved walking through the woods surrounding the ministry with you. When you’d stop at a clearing you’d get to watch him try to become one with the ground, an attempt that consisted of him laying face down on the ground with his tail flipping around showing how much he enjoyed it.

            Any time in the kitchen was with Aether, he would either help you with whatever you were making, make something for you, or just chill in a seat nearby. Most of the other ghouls were banned from the kitchen due to things they had done making it so Aether was the only one of your ghouls who was allowed in the kitchen. He did take advantage of it. 

            The one on one time with the ghouls helped you feel more comfortable around them, especially when you watched Rain chase around fish in the pond and get outsmarted, tree branches hitting Mountain and watching him process what happened, Dew trying to eat the fire and then trying to smack it when he couldn’t, Swiss randomly whip around and stare at one of the siblings to freak them out and then giggle to himself when he turned back around, and when Aether would randomly decide to try random ingredients without thinking which lead to him eating flour and all the faces he made running to the sink to wash it out.

            The ghouls were a bit strange and unusual but they were your ghouls and you were sure it wouldn’t be long until you were just as head over heels for them as they were for you.

Check out my Ao3!

#Ghost x reader #Ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #band ghost #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost band x reader #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #polyghouls #polyghouls x reader #dewdrop x reader #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #aether x reader #Mountain ghoul #mountain x reader #rain ghoul #rain x reader #swiss army ghoul #swiss x reader #ry writes

[lucywrites02]

The game of cat and spider chapter 2: Nice running into you!

Main Masterlist | The game of cat and spider Masterlist | Miguel O'hara Masterlist | AO3

Miguel O'hara x black cat! Reader (gender neutral)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

A/N: Here we are with another chapter! This bad boy *slaps the fic* can fit more than 3k words in it. This chapter is about them meeting as normal people UWU. It includes: Miguel in a compression shirt, a cat who terrorises your apartment and coffee. <3. *swings a pocket watch right in front of your eyes* "If you see any grammar mistakes... no you didn't xoxo

Have fun and let me know how you liked it!

If you want to be added to the tag list, just send me an ask :)

Series Summary: You are a criminal and he's a hero. You don't know each other's names, never seen the person behind the mask. You aren't enemies- you are supposed to be but that didn't work out quite well. You liked each other a bit too much, but your relationship was strictly…. Professional? What happens if you meet as normal people, with no masks and responsibilities in your way? What did the universe plan for you? And most importantly…. Will it last?

Miguel woke up to the silence of his apartment. The very first sun rays of that day shone through the curtains the man forgot to close last night. The golden hues embraced his tired face, making the man squeeze his eyes and groan.

The rest of his room was engulfed in darkness, just like Miguel liked it. The walls were painted the same shade of blue one could see in the clouds right before it started raining. He didn't have many things in his bedroom- just a queen sized bed covered with black satin sheets and a small nightstand table with an electric clock on it. Not even a lamp. O'hara only used this room for sleeping so he didn't have many things in there. He would only sleep in his own bed if he didn't fall asleep in his lab. Or collapsed on the couch after a long day. Some nights he didn't sleep at all. That's why he didn't see a point in decorating the place.

Miguel sat up, placing his feet on the cold wooden floor. The numbers on the clock read 6:30 AM and the man knew he wouldn't get any more sleep. He stood up, adjusting his white sleeping shirt and slowly walked to the opened window that he also forgot to close last night.

Thankfully no one would even think of breaking into his apartment since it's located on the 10th floor. He pushed the heavy grey curtains away, letting more light inside and just stood there for a while, looking at the city below him. Even though it was early in the morning he could see the crowds of people on the streets. He could hear the sound of cars speeding down the highway. Sometimes Miguel liked to make up stories about those people and their lives. Maybe the couple eating breakfast outside that little bakery just got married and decided to spend their honeymoon in Nueva York. What if that taxi driver that almost didn't stop at the red light is secretly a famous poetry writer?

Miguel knew those stories were stupid and didn't make any sense whatsoever, but it was the only thing to get his mind off of his… loneliness. It never worked because watching people living their lives and being happy only made him feel even more alone.

He ran his hands through his messy brown hair and decided that he needed a better distraction. A good jog could probably make things better. There was a park 20 minutes away from his home that he liked to visit- a secluded area on the west side right by the river. It was one of his favourite spots in this neighbourhood. Miguel didn't even bother to eat breakfast or make coffee- he just took a quick shower, put on his dark red sweatpants, black compression shirt and a hoodie that matched his pants. Ever since he became the spider-man he invested in some good noise cancelling headphones because his heightened senses couldn't handle the constant stimulation that the outside world provided. He took them with him every time he left home- as a civilian, not a hero. Miguel wasn't in the mood for music so the only thing playing through the headphones in his ears was some white noise.

He shrugged and decided that it was good enough for now. The last thing he needed were his sunglasses- he would surely get a migraine if he got out in this sun with no protection against the light. He had a favourite pair that he took everywhere with him- ordinary wayfarers with tinted glass. They looked exactly like his regular reading glasses and Miguel loved them. The man sighed heavily when he couldn't find them and put on his black baseball cap instead. He has to start putting his things in places he can find them again, but that seemed like a problem for later.

"LYLA, I'm going out. Turn on the security."

The man called, not bothering to hear the robotic response of his digital assistant and closed the door behind him. He waited for the silent 'click' to make sure LYLA did what he asked. The artificial intelligence he created was in the testing phase and he still had to supervise it. It was a simple AI- Miguel gave it his vocal command and it did the job. So far the system has been running great, but there was still something missing, Miguel just couldn't figure out what. The AI was supposed to be his assistant, but Miguel felt weird when he talked to it and expected to have an actual conversation only to be met with silence. His social skills weren't the best and he knew it was stupid to even think that way, but he really wanted this AI- his creation- to be human enough to speak with him like a normal person. He wasn't sure how he could accomplish it. Maybe he would get some good ideas after his little workout. Now that he thought of it he cringed, knowing he was so desperate for social interactions he made an AI he could talk to. Even though the system wasn't that well developed yet.

He jogged at a slower pace down the road leading to the main area of the park. The mornings were getting more chilly as the seasons were changing. The trees were still green- it would take a few more weeks for them to adapt to different weather and turn different colours- and it actually made Miguel smile a bit. He wasn't a fan of fall. It was rainy and depressing. And he knew that winter came after fall which meant spending another holiday alone. Which caused more depression, of course. But now wasn't the time to think about the future.

Miguel jogged to the secluded area of the park and started running faster. It was almost a sprint as if the velocity of his steps could make the thoughts in his head disappear. It didn't.

What did make his thoughts stop racing however, was someone's body colliding with his broad frame.

Your day couldn't have started better. That statement was purely sarcastic of course because you woke up to the sound of a ceramic pot crushing into the tiled floor of your kitchen. You immediately jumped out of your bed, forgetting about the ache in your thigh and headed to the source of all that noise. The pieces of soil and terracotta were scattered across the room and you wanted to just lay down in all that dirt and cry. Your cat however was sitting down on the highest shelf in your kitchen - meant only for your poison ivies -looking pretty pleased with herself.

"I hope it was worth it because you just lost your snack privileges." You scolded your furry companion as you cleaned the floor. You took one of the biggest mugs you had and put the remaining of your plant in it. "She won't hurt you again, I promise." You spoke to the plant and gently caressed the leaves. The mug would have to suffice until you get a new pot. After throwing out all of that dirt to the trash and mopping the floor you finally took a glance at the clock hanging on your wall and groaned. It was barely 6 AM and you were already on your feet.

Well, you couldn't go back to sleep now. You weren't tired anymore. It would help if you had something to make you busy, but there was literally nothing to do. Your dishes were washed and your laundry folded. The cat has been fed and her litter box cleaned. You always did those chores at night so that your morning would be more enjoyable. But now you were yearning for some tasks.

You pushed the white curtains in your kitchen to the side, letting the morning sun into your apartment. The sticker you put on your window created beautiful rainbow areolas on the sage green tiles on your wall. You loved mornings like this even if they started on a more chaotic note. You went through your routine like always- it was your day off so you settled on more comfortable clothes. Sweatpants and hoodie was the best combination for a lazy day. Your wound didn't hurt as much as it did last night and it made moving around easier than you thought.

You spent months making your apartment feel like home and it really did feel like it. But in moments like this- sitting on the balcony all alone and looking at the people on the streets with a deep longing for some sort of connection- you felt lonely. You had Migsy who was more than happy to keep you company, but he wasn't a human being who could give you a hug after a long day at work or kiss you goodnight. You were desperate for a genuine and meaningful human connection.

People you called friends were actually just your co-workers or people you regularly interact with at the grocery store- people who had their own family and real friends to come back to after a long day at work. You gave up on dating a long time ago and the only person who made your heart skip a beat was a guy in a red-blue latex suit whose job was to send your ass to jail. It was fun to flirt with him- especially ever since he actually started to flirt back- but you knew it wasn't…. Real. It wasn't someone who would want a relationship with you. How would that even work? You always felt more confident behind your mask. But the person you were while wearing your costume wasn't really you. It was a character you created to make your life easier and if someone liked the black cat they would be so disappointed when they realise who has been hiding behind that mask. So if the spider-man harboured any sort of affection for the black cat, he wouldn't have the same feeling for the real you. That's why you would never take this 'relationship' seriously. You liked the flirting, but that was it. Because he wouldn't…

Your thoughts were entertaining a dangerous territory and you had to find a good distraction. You couldn't stay at home- this apartment even though it was your little sanctuary, reminded you of how alone you actually were.

Hmm, since your thigh wasn't hurting too much, maybe you could go on a quick walk to your favourite bakery in the park nearby. You could get breakfast there and maybe buy some flowers for yourself on your way back. Yeah…that sounded like a plan.

You made sure to pack some things into your little backpack before you went out- just the essentials like your wallet, the keys to your apartment and a sketchbook you always took with you. You styled your hair a bit before you left to look less messy and smiled when you were satisfied with the outcome.

"I'm going out, Migsy." You gave your cat a little kiss on the forehead before you put on your headphones. "Please don't terrorise any more plants while I'm gone" Your little angel meowed at you in response which made you giggle.

You left your apartment complex and chose a fitting playlist. You picked up your pace to match the beat of the song and headed to the park. There was a path along the river on the west side that was perfect for morning walks. There was a small coffee shop around the corner that you had to stop by before you could continue your little journey. You could smell the freshly brewed beverages from a mile and you knew your day would be bad if you didn't stop by to get a drink. Coffee was like a nectar for your soul and you couldn't deprive yourself of this small happiness.

The baristas behind the counter knew you and your order very well since you were one of the regulars so they started preparing your favourite drink the moment you stepped inside. They didn't try to start a conversation with you and it only evoked a deeper feeling of loneliness. Even though you interacted with those people plenty of times you still weren't worthy enough for them to even try and make some small talk. Maybe you were overthinking the interaction too much- they did smile at you when they saw you walk in and even waved at you. But you just couldn't help yourself and had to analyse every move of their muscles to make sure they didn't secretly hate you. You left the shop as soon as they handed you your order, trying to calm down. You hated when that happened- when the anxiety overwhelmed you so much you couldn't think properly.

You didn't even notice when you entered the main area of the park, too focused on your coffee and the music playing through your headphones. And you surely didn't notice a stranger running in your direction.

"I am so sorry!" Miguel quickly apologised, ripping his headphones off his ears. "Are you okay?" He looked down at the person sitting on the ground right before him. He felt so stupid for running into you and if you paid enough attention you could see how red his cheeks have turned.

You looked up at the stranger and groaned in pain. You were thankful that the coffee wasn't hot because you would have to add burns to the list of your injuries. The drink ended up all over your clothes and you had to try your hardest not to cry in front of a stranger this handsome. Wait-

"I should have paid more attention, I am really really sorry." The man kept apologising. Miguel's face was burning with embarrassment. He felt so bad for bumping into you and he knew it probably hurt a lot- colliding with all those muscles of his surely wasn't the best experience.

"I'm good." You smiled awkwardly, readjusting your wet hoodie that stuck to your skin. Miguel gave you his hand to help you up. "It's okay, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have been thinking about so many things at once..."

Miguel's brown eyes finally met your gaze and the man thought about something bizarre. Your face seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had the feeling he had met you before, but he wasn't sure, and it was driving him crazy. However, he shook his head and pushed the thought aside. Millions of people lived in the city and it was actually very possible that he had seen you before and simply forgot about it. But if that was the case why did he feel like there was something more to you than meets the eye?

"Are you okay though?" You asked, looking down at the coffee stains on your clothes. It will be a pain in the ass to clean later.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He gave you a small smile. "Are you sure you're okay? I kinda feel like you might have gotten hurt, it felt like a pretty harsh fall… and I'm sorry about the coffee, too…" He looked concerned as he looked at your face for a second, before looking elsewhere- anywhere but your eyes- as he scratched his neck.

Miguel could have sworn he has seen you before. Or maybe he didn't. But if you truly were a stranger how could he explain that weird feeling deep inside him. Or maybe you were just so pretty his brain had to somehow rationalise this foreign attraction towards you. Aaagh, he should stop making a fool of himself and stop overthinking this interaction!

"It hurts a bit, but I will be fine." You replied. The man standing before you was much taller and - you hated yourself for thinking about the person you just met that way- very very handsome. Which only made you even more embarrassed once you realise how you must have looked. "I can always get another coffee later so don't worry about that."

"I…i-i w-" The stranger stuttered, fiddling with his fingers as he spoke. He took a deep breath before he continued. "I feel bad for bumping into you. Could I maybe… make it up to you somehow?" Miguel's heart was beating against his chest like a hammer as he was stumbling on his own words. "I could buy you another coffee." He proposed and cringed, thinking he sounded desperate. "If that's fine with you, of course…."

He wasn't sure what took over him because he knew he wouldn't ever do something like that for any other person. He would probably just apologise again and run in the other direction, hoping he will never have to see that person ever again.

"I don't think I want another coffee right now" You giggled in response. "But thank you for the proposal, Mr…"

"Oh, it's Miguel." The man mumbled, giving you his hand to shake.

You introduced yourself as well and chuckled. "It was nice running into you." You joked and cringed internally. But the stranger- Miguel- actually laughed. Not giggled, laughed.

He let go of your hand to cover his mouth and cleared his throat, trying to hide his smile.

"So, you were going for a morning jog, too huh? Where were you heading, if you don't mind me asking?" The man spoke. He really wanted this little interaction to last longer.

"Yeah, I wanted to relax a bit and decided to take a walk. I was heading to the bakery down the street" You explained. "I didn't expect to be swept off my feet like that though." You felt comfortable talking with Miguel. It's as if the two of you knew each other already.

"I am really sorry about that." Miguel repeated. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you…"

"You could give me your number" You suggested and mentally slapped yourself. You had no idea where this confidence came from and you started to get nervous. "So that you can take me ou- BUY me another coffee." You continued your mumbling and chucking awkwardly. "Because you spilled mine." Definitely not because you wanted to see him again.

Miguel smirked down at you and took out his phone. He didn't want to admit it, but he was as excited as he was nervous. The one time he decided to go out he bumped into some stranger, making them fall down, spilled that person's coffee all over them and then somehow managed to get their number? Migiel wasn't sure what he did to be this lucky, but he certainly wasn't complaining.

He handed you his phone with his number on the screen, so that you could type it into your own. You saved his contact as 'the guy who owes me a coffee'. Miguel saw that and chuckled again.

"I sent you a text so that you can have my number as well." You cleared your throat and inhaled deeply when you noticed how close the two of you were standing. "I guess I will see you around, Miguel."

"I guess you will." He saved your number in his contacts before he showed his phone into the pocket of his pants. "It was nice bumping into you. And I hope the other people will pay more attention to the road than I did." He scratched his neck and took a step back to create more space between you. "Wouldn't want you to spend any more time falling down." Miguel winked at you and slowly jogged away, not waiting for your response.

He made sure that he was out of your view before he stopped to slap his forehead. He still felt bad for running into you, but thankfully, he didn't feel any awkwardness like he did in the beginning. But for the love of God, why did he have to wink at you?

Tag list: @serpentstarr @bucketluvr @nxrdamp @strangeobsessed @atlaincorrect @rorel1a @saturnknows @onfuis @spicysleepysloth @levisbebe @ok-boke @keepitreal001

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara #black cat reader #miguel x reader #enemies to friends to lovers #meet cute

[greenishghostey]

Eddie wanting to spend time w you but you have sleepy bitch disease so he just does his normal stuff but ur taking a nap on his bed

As someone with the sleepy bitch disease, this is very much MY JAM

///

You and Eddie had been together for a little over a year, and in that time, Eddie had become intimately aware of your love for sleep. Sure, he loved lying in until noon as much as the next person, but you took it to another level. The term 'heavy sleeper' was an insult to you, in his opinion.

The peak of your sleeping ability - he had started thinking it was like a superpower of something - came during a stormy night in September. Hailstones, sheets of rain and violent wind battered his trailer for hours into the night. Eddie got maybe an hour or two of sleep that night, but you were essentially dead to the world once you got snuggled into his bed. He had opted to being your pillow that night since you had been pulling him to your chest and making little tired noises that made him melt - not he was going to openly admit that to you, obviously.

Once December hit, the trailer would be near sub-zero by the time the sun went down. Eddie and Wayne had done all they could to seal with windows and doors, trying to trap the heat in as best they could. Eddie suggested window sealant, but Wayne shut down that idea very quickly since he wanted to get his deposit on the place back eventually.

You had been coming to stay the night at the trailer, and Eddie was initially stressed about you being too cold at night. Which, in his mind, would lead to you never coming to stay again, and everything would fall apart afterwards. A cold trailer was not going to impede your deep sleeping, though. While Eddie wasn't the warmest person to cuddle up to, he had compensated by piling pillows and blankets into his bed.

Once Eddie had picked you up from your shift at the library, you would immediately beeline for the bed fort that he had constructed for you both. Admittedly, the cold had made you even more tired than you normally would have been after work. The heater that was kept in the office had started leaking that afternoon, so you and your co-workers had been working in your scarves and gloves until closing.

Eddie always had a small smile on his face when you dozed off. His girl bundled up in his bed, where you belonged. He was all too aware of how rough work had been on you lately, so he decided to get started on some chores and dinner for when you woke up.

Most people would think that Eddie was incapable of being quiet, but he was quite the opposite. If anything, him being so loud was a front for him enjoying the mundane hum of the trailer and you shifting around in his bed. He tried to walk as lightly as possible while gathering up laundry around his room - some of it was his clothes and some of it was yours. The washing machine would be loud as fuck but you slept through a snowstorm once, you’d be fine.

With the laundry on and a pot of spaghetti simmering, Eddie felt a weird but nice wave of domestic bliss. Would it be like this when you guys moved in together? Maybe the whole househusband thing could work for him - a bit unconventional, but that was basically his middle name. You had told him on several occasions that he looked good in an apron.

His bedroom door had always been squeaky, no matter how much WD-40 he caked on the hinges. Eddie wanted to grab his acoustic guitar to get some practice in while dinner cooked. You’d mentioned liking ‘Trust Me’ by Janis Joplin when digging through Wayne’s records, so Eddie was secretly learning it - Joplin wasn’t exactly his usual choice of music, but she was pretty hardcore, in his opinion.

His socked feet made it to his guitar before you mumbled and gestured him to you, “You’re in the apron.”

Your eyes were still closed while a sleepy grin wormed across your face. Eddie was about ready to pounce and forget about dinner. “‘M making dinner. And cleaning stuff. Was gonna dance with the vacuum for you, but thought that might be a bit too much.”

“When’s that ever been something you worried about?” You laughed.

“Didn’t want to wake you.” Eddie smiled, kneeing by your side of the bed and moving hair from your face. “Plus, I can’t dance. You said it yourself.” He pouted and wiped a fake tear from his eye.

“I only said that because you were drunk and about to get on that coffee table.” You fondly remembered that party from a few months back. Eddie had actually danced with you pretty well when you both went outside for some air. He did try to dip you and dropped you on the front lawn, but at least he tried.

“And I would have been fine. Five beers and I’m ready to go.” Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You snorted and lightly shoved his face away from you.

“It was a glass coffee table, babe.”

“It was Steve’s coffee table, babe. His folks could afford a replacement.”

“Yeah, but it’d end up coming out of your pocket. His dad’s a big bitch about money, remember?”

He pouted at you once again, but decided to properly retaliate this time. You barked out a laugh when he gathered you up in one of the blankets and hauled you up.

“You’ve disturbed my beauty rest.” You grumbled, standing up still wrapped in your blanket cocoon.

“You don’t need it.” He quipped, giving you a big smile when you gagged. Eddie knew you liked his cheesy compliments, but the fake disdain was still funny. “Besides, we gotta eat. It’s almost 10.”

You grimaced when he placed a sloppy kiss on your forehead. “Is that why I hear a pot boiling over?”

“Fuck, fuck, shit fuck.” Instead of immediately run to the kitchen, Eddie started to essentially sheep dog you along with him. Like you, in your still sleepy state, would be of any help. But it was nice to be considered.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #fluff #fic #eddie #my writing #also everyone go listen to the Janis Joplin song because it’s good and quite sweet

[chapel-of-rizztual]

More Swiss and Cumulus with little Mountain?

It was late in the evening when Swiss gets back to the ghouls den. He’s been helping out in the infirmary all evening, helping ease the load for Quintessence ghouls during the beginning of flu season. As much as he liked helping them out, he was exhausted and all he wanted to do was curl up with his ghouls and go to sleep. 

Once in the den he notices all the ghouls cuddles up on the sofa, all but two. 

“Hey, where’s Mount and Lus?” 

Dew blinks sleepily at him from where he’s tucked in between Rain and Cirrus. 

“Upstairs.” He slurs. “Lus’ room I think.” 

Swiss makes his way upstairs and towards Cumulus’ room without saying anything else. 

Once is Cumulus’ room he’s met with the sight of them both curled up on her bed, Mountain in her lap resting his head on her chest. He’s wrapped up tightly in his blanket, his eyes peacefully closed as he sucks from the bottle Cumulus is holding up for him. Cumulus is running her fingers through his hair with her other hand, looking down at him so lovingly Swiss can feel his heart melting at the sight of them. 

He shuts the door behind him quietly, the clicking makes Cumulus look up at him with a smile. 

“Hey darling. How was the infirmary?” 

“Long. But good, I like working in there.” Swiss makes his way over to the bed and gently flops down, curling up into Cumulus’ side. He gently rubs At Mountain’s leg through the blanket. 

“How long has he been down?” 

“All day. He came into my room before the sun even rose and curled up in my bed. He’s been like this all day.” Mountain sighs out of his nose like he knows they’re talking about him. “He’s been a good boy though, just wanted to be held and cuddled all day.” 

Swiss’ eyes flick up from Mountain to look at Cumulus.  “Luck you. Getting baby Mount cuddles all day.” 

“I know, I’ve had such a hard day.” She smiles at Swiss. 

Swiss reaches up and run his hand through Mountain’s hair. He gets no reaction from the earth ghoul, his eyes stayed closed with the bottle resting half empty in his mouth.  “Is he even drinking that anymore?” 

Cumulus hums.  “Yeah. Just slowly.” She rubs at his cheek with her thumb. “He likes to take his time with it.” 

“I forget he’s not as greedy as Dew is” Swiss laughs. “Has he been asleep most of the day?” 

“Not all day. Most of the morning but he was quite giggly in the afternoon.” Cumulus looks down at him lovingly. “We watched a documentary on ocean life in the den, I don’t think he could understand it but he liked the colours and watching the fish, but when everyone came back from their chores he got a little overwhelmed with all the noise so we came back up here.” 

Mountain’s eyes open then, blinking blearily and hazily at Swiss. 

“Hi babyboy.” He rubs at his belly through the blanket. “Nice to see those pretty eyes.” 

Mountain’s eyes flutter as he sucks a little harder at the bottle.  “Oh yeah. You remembered about that, huh?”

Cumulus glares at him and shushes him.  “Don’t tease him, you big meanie.” There’s no harshness in her voice and her glare turns into a smile. 

The rest of the bottle gets drained quickly after  that, Mountain only letting out a little hiccup and whines when Cumulus pulls the bottle from his mouth. 

Swiss leans back and blindly feels around on Cumulus’ bedside table until he feels the familiar plastic he was looking for. He grabs the pacifier and hold the rubber end up to Mountain’s lips.

“You want this, baby?”  Mountain parts his lips and allows Swiss to push the pacifier into his mouth with a squeak. He sucks the pacifier, his eyes slipping closed as he falls asleep against Cumulus. 

Cumulus rubs at his cheek.  “That’s it, our good boy.” She coos at him. 

She turns to Swiss. “You should sleep too. You’ve had a busy day.”  As is on cue Swiss yawns. “We both should sleep, it’s late.” 

Swiss doesn’t argue, it would be pointless against Cumulus she always get her way. He snuggles down into her bed, pulling her duvet over him. She moves Mountain to the middle of both of them, he only fusses a little, his eyes fluttering open a little but Swiss is quick to sooth him. Cumulus settles down next to Mountain, wrapping her arms around him. Swiss does the same, both of them making a cocoon around the the ghoul. It doesn’t take long before the two of them are sleeping peacefully, cuddling into Mountain as he sleep. 

#regressed ghouls #the band ghost #ficlet #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #cumulus ghoulette

[seikkoi]

ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ | ᴛᴏɴʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

content/warnings: named reader, explicit sexual content (very end), alcohol consumption, mentions of financial issues, employer/employee relations, explicit mentions of mental health issues (reader has the anxieties™), mentions of physical injuries, set in canon universe before aou.

genre: mostly angst ngl, sm*t at the very very end

word count: 7,463 im sorry

a/n: lightly inspired by the song 'october' by rothstein

dedicated to: the lovely @alessandraavengers

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business."  Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.  “My business is your job."

I won't complain,

I will be decent, 

though it will be freezing,

I welcome the rain.

The hands of the clock on the wall ticked silently, a sign of the building’s expense. You clutched a leather binder filled with papers in your lap as you sat. Everything you had to show for the last seven years of your life. Countless awards, certificates, recommendations—the expensive bachelor's and the bank account-draining master’s. Your leg bounced on the dark mahogany, steadily increasing frequency as seconds turned into minutes.

Ironically, this would also be interview number seven. For the job you were least qualified for. You applied for close to twenty at this point, all well below your skill, but you were desperate. You had barely a year of experience—quitting your first job one year out of school after one-too-many sixty hour work weeks. The moment you turned in your resignation, dread and regret over your choice in profession filled you. It held you down, sleeping and rotting the days away. Eventually, reality set in, pulled you out of bed and back into the corporate world. 

Turns out, lack of experience and ‘quitting with notice’ is less than ideal.

You hoped a step down in prestige would result in less stress. All your fantasies of a top floor corner office and luxury disappeared like ash under a light rain. You always held expensive tastes that you couldn’t sustain unemployed.  But the stress wasn’t worth it. All you needed now was to pay the bills. Too quickly ‘over-qualified’ or ‘under-experienced’ became your least favorite words. You had to fight back the dread every time you checked your email. 

Just when you’d started pondering entry-level positions, a notification came through for a new vacancy ‘Fit for your skillset!’. To your dismay, the description sounded no different than the job you left. More grueling expectations and personal sacrifice. On top of that, you still were under-experienced by their requirements. Not to mention who it was for. Overworked employees typically miss most current events, but far too much has been going on with this company to make even you pay attention. Working for such a high-profile, drama-ridden company might be even worse.  But after weeks and not so much as an offer letter, you had to try anything. On the plus side, at least it paid well.

Three days later, you found yourself inside of Stark Tower, wishing the silent clock would move faster.

Square breathes, internal mantras—nothing worked. Your heels still made a gentle clack against the floor. Thankfully, the general noise of the front lobby kept it from being a nuisance. 

What you swear is eons later, your ears prick up to a similar click growing near you. You turn your head as a tall blonde approaches the small waiting area. She stops at the front desk a moment, making your heart skip a beat when the receptionist points to you. 

‘Just relax, you know what to say.’ you thought to yourself. ‘They won’t hire you if you’re a nervous wreck.’

You manage to muster what little confidence you had left after weeks of rejection to stand and straighten your dress as she greets you. Thankfully, the smile she extends is friendly enough. The hand you feel is soft and manicured too— acute tells of an easy life.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ms. Potts, I’ll be bringing you up to meet Mr. Stark.” she says, turning and heading further into the lobby.

‘Maybe this won’t be too hard. Maybe this job won’t be like the last.’

-

During the entire elevator ride to Mr. Stark’s office, Ms. Potts spews out factoids about Stark Industries but you’re too busy rethinking your entire interview strategy. Something about a cave, Obadiah Stane and a wormhole whizzes through your ear to no reaction. It was nothing you hadn’t already read in the weekly papers, nor did it ease you one bit. 

You were even more taken aback when you realize you’re descending, and the silver doors open to a spacious garage. The faint sound of movement echoes, source unseen. You turn to Miss Potts, who only gives another pleasant smile and gestures into the concrete space.

Sure, the whole world knew Tony Stark was a bit eccentric. You knew that well enough when you applied. Hell, it probably explained the vacancy. Maybe this was some type of strategy, or just his nature. Either way, something was screaming at you to tell Miss Potts you had changed your mind, go home and apply for anything else. 

Then, you remembered how badly you wanted success. You couldn’t accept anything less.

The elevator closed quietly behind you as you exited, looking for the source of the noise. There’s cars (some ridiculously new and some pathetically old), studded workbenches, and chaotic piles of robotics and machinery strewn about. You have to round the corner to find him, behind a small bar tucked away from the metal mess everywhere else. 

He’s turned away from you, seated at the bar with eyes glued on a few papers before him. An ornate pen signs away without pause. You’re certain the sound of your heels against the floor gave you away, but you’re sure to clear your throat to not shock him. 

Mr. Stark, clad in a grease-stained white tee and dark denim, shifts in the barstool slightly to give you a cursory look. You can tell immediately his mind is lightyears away from the present situation, focused elsewhere. On a lighter note, you notice how much kinder he looks in person. All the magazines and op-eds made his face harsh, never smiling. 

“You’re the one who applied for assistant thingy right? Miss…” Stark trails off, scanning back through the papers in front of him. There’s a slight slur in his speech, one that forces you to remember the early hour.

“Cassian.” you interrupt his search and he laughs, abandoning the papers for a shiny glass on the counter.

He brings the amber liquid to his lips before he speaks again. 

“Right, Cassian, look—” The glass finds its way back to the solid surface despite his sway. He stands once it does, facing you with a wide smile. “You’re hired!” 

With that, you’re left more dumbfounded, staring at the billionaire as he sauntered over to one of the cluttered workbenches. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t understand—” You turn towards him as he walks by, not sparing you another glance.

When he reaches the middle of the garage, he lets out an exhausted sigh. The familiar regret seeps in, turning your nerves up another notch.

“The woman that probably brought you here—Pepper, she used to be my assistant, and handle all the tabloid bullsuit.” he mutters, fiddling with a wrench from the bench. 

“After the whole ‘tower nearly blowing up’ situation, she’s taken a step uh-out of my life. For better or worse. I didn’t wanna hire anyone else, she’s convinced I can’t manage my own life— we compromised.”

You start to speak, trying to formulate the right words to say. Stark pays it no mind, tossing the wrench back down gently.

He pivots towards you, and you see the stress in his eyes. You can see why she’d quit-hell you were starting to wish you never applied. The name ‘Stark’ proliferated in the papers these days.

“Offer letter is signed, on the bar, job’s there if you want it.” With that, he walks across the garage, past you into the elevator. 

The electronic ding! sounds, leaving you in the garage alone without another word. You’re convinced this is a terrible idea- even before whatever that just was.

Something sparks your curiosity to look at the signed papers, and put a dollar amount to this madness. You walk back to the bar, grabbing the stack of papers with a faint ring of water in the corner.

You’re certain you’re dreaming when you count the number of zeros. 

THREE WEEKS LATER

You were ready for retirement at the ripe age of twenty-six.

This was a new type of demand. Running nearly every aspect of Tony Stark’s life didn’t eat your soul, but it ate at your mind. You could spin embezzlement or drunk-driving into a heartwarming story- alien attacks and Hydra were a whole new ballpark. 

It was almost refreshing. Spinning stories for shitty people and tailoring public statements for the goal of maximum human exploitation never quite sat right with you. Handling Stark’s life just felt like defending someone who deserved it. It felt more honorable working for him than a greedy tech firm.  (There are some questionable times when he doesn’t, but you don’t bother with those).

The righteousness helped the uncharted territory be more than manageable. Still, making Stark’s technology enterprise mesh well with his role as Iron Man felt like a hero’s feat on its own. The media would come up with any number of wild conspiracies about Iron Man, most of them disparaging to his image. 

Stark was legitimately aiming for good things in the world. The weariness in your bones kept you craving more simplicity and ease, nonetheless.

You sunk down into the leather couch of the conference room, watching as the board members filed out in quick order. The room was filled with the golden ray of sunset— soon to turn pitch black. 

Officially done with the day’s meetings, you forgo any workplace formalities and kick off your heels, despite your boss’s presence. 

A light chuckle at your exhaustion breaks the silence, Stark slumping into the empty space beside you. You raise an eyebrow when he wriggles at the lavish tie around his neck, tossing the garment to the floor next to your heels. 

“What, you can kick back but I can’t?” he jests, undoing the top two buttons of his black dress shirt. 

You give a ‘fair enough’ shrug, leaning back to start mentally processing the last ten hours.

You found yourself staring at his exposed neck as your mind trailed off, his head leaned back, eyes shut. His jaw is tight, forehead pinch in a now-familiar focus. Stark looked nearly as drained as you, still you knew better than to try and equate things. Honestly, you considered yourself semi-lucky to only have to make things look nice for the cameras and not be present for them. In the evening glow, though, he looks close to ethereal.

You shift your eyes at the thought.

You two sit in comfortable silence as the sun moves behind the New York city skyline. 

You’re doing mental math on how soon you can retire when he fills the void with a question.

“Regret taking the job?” he asks, unmoving. 

You add ‘potential mind reader’  to his list of skills. 

“Some parts are better than others.” It’s as honest of an answer you can give without sounding ungrateful for the opportunity (or thinking about the alluring glow on his skin).

He laughs again, turning to meet your eyes. This would mark the first time you’re under a heat lamp from his gaze, irises tired and alluring. 

“Seriously,” 

Clearly your answer isn’t convincing, because he turns to his side on the couch to fully face you. 

“You aren’t regretting this? Because lately you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” he says with a lazy grin.

You thought you were doing a good job of burying your issues beneath walls of smiles. Hearing otherwise hurts your resolve a bit, especially from Stark. He had enough on his plate without worrying about you.

“It’s just…a lot,” 

Despite how you felt, you couldn’t lie about it, not to his face. 

“But it’s not your fault, it’s not you.” you swiftly add upon seeing his somber grin fade away.

“Ha, isn’t it though?” A dramatic sigh escapes his mouth like a deflated balloon, running his hands through messy brown locks. “This..rollercoaster I’ve put myself on.” 

“Rollercoasters can be fun.” 

“You hate it.” Stark faces you once more, propping his arm up on the back of the couch. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you quit.”

The suggestion pulls a laugh of your own. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

Stark makes a genuinely puzzled face, to which you spend the next minute or two explaining why you quit your first job, the weeks you spent rotting away after. You had hoped to never recount such a sad time outloud, but you couldn’t stand him feeling at fault for your lack of enthusiasm. 

Ease passes through you when it seems to comfort him a bit.

“Maybe I hire you for something else, maybe pay you to not deal with this shit.” he says, laughing.

You brush off his joke with another short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? Really, it’s fine. Just need a long hot shower.”

You start to stand, but are stopped when a hand graces your thigh. 

“No jokes, I know what it’s like to get more than you signed up for. If money’s all that’s keeping you here, trust me that’s not an issue.”

You give a flustered smile, trying not to focus on how warm his hand was. 

“It’s not all that’s keeping me here.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

“You know it’s just a dinner, right? Like just food, maybe music, high probability of dessert?” Stark taunts, noticing your trembling leg from behind his phone screen.

The car seems like it’s moving way too fast, even though you can very clearly see the speedometer under 25 miles per hour. 

“Yes, I know what dinner is.” 

You let out a deep sigh, trying to regain the ground under your feet. The part Stark conveniently forgets is that it is a very large gala he’s dragged you along to, and not just a normal dinner. You can do normal dinner, not a one hundred plus person dinner with reporters and red carpet. He’s also not considering the part where he didn’t tell you about it until two hours ago.

“Oh, that’s a relief, thought you might jump out the window.” he pockets his phone, turning to you. “I can just have Happy take you home, you know.”

“No, no, this is…excitement. I’m excited. Totally ready.” you’re really trying to convince yourself, but it only makes Tony snicker.

“These things are really boring, promise. That’s why you’re here, keep me from falling asleep.” 

Out the window, the street lights start to turn back into normal orbs instead of blurry splotches. The car pulls up the curb with enough ease for you to take in the venue. It's a marble hall, one you feel suddenly underdressed for. You make a mental note to tell Stark never to give you this little notice again. Perhaps you should save yourself the trouble and head home. 

Stark could behave himself, right? 

The black window tinting your view disappears when the door is pulled open. You hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore, now holding the door and gesturing to the entrance. You get your first good look at the suit he’s wearing, tailored and jet-black. The flattering seams are a decent enough distraction to join him on the sidewalk. 

Stark places both hands on either of your shoulders, giving you a playful shake. 

“You look amazing, I look amazing, please stop worrying. It’s starting to spread and I can’t eat on an upset stomach.” he forces himself into your gaze, searching your face for the supposed ‘excitement’.

A deep breath, then a second passes through you, staring at Stark's eyes until you can manage a curt nod and still legs.

“See, you’re gonna be just fine.” he exclaims, dropping the hands from your shoulders and already smiling for the line of photographers waiting by the door. 

You follow unsteadily, praying this is a speedy event. You could do this for an hour, maybe two. Stark takes notice of your delay, turning back to you just before reaching the first nerdy cameraman.

“Hey, what’s the issue with this? If your not comfortable with the cameras, you know we can just go around—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupt, gripping your clutch with sweaty palms. 

“Then what?” he asks sympathetically.

“There’s like a hundred people in there, Stark.” you admit with a long sigh.

“And I’m one of them, what’s the worst that can happen if you're with me?” He turns and props his arm out towards you. “Miss Cassian?” he says, dragging out your name.

You want to roll your eyes at his constant unserious nature, but instead you take another deep breath, loop your arm through his, letting your fingers wrap around the satiny fabric on his bicep before taking slow steps forward.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Bright bulbs of light flickering in blinding succession. In every direction, microphones with human mouthpieces spew their hurried questions. Your boss answers in his typical Stark way, earning only more adoration and curiosity. You come to humor yourself with the questions they ask. Always seemingly random, from his favorite brand of whiskey to his opinion on migrant detainment in the Mediterranean. 

You stand to the right as he smiles and poses for them. You almost hate how good he looks in the cold wind, face most definitely beaming behind designer snow-white frames. Outside of that, you admire his patience, knowing this winter vacation (where he didn’t have to be Iron Man for once) was leaked and now semi-ruined.

It would’ve been a well needed break for you as well. Three months of non-stop press releases, conferences, and meetings were wearing you ragged. Late nights were occupied with drafting memos and wishing you chose a career with less work. While you hated the time work took away, you unfortunately began to admire the work you did. Working for Stark turned out to be more desirable than you thought. You imagined dealing with another frustrating, reckless CEO- not a charming, witty superhero. Regardless of the long hours and chaos, you loved helping put more good into the world. 

Finally, as snow starts to fall, he answers a final question on if he’ll change the color of his suit before turning to enter the cabin.

“Mr. Stark— Iron Man, won’t be taking any more questions, excuse me, thank you.” 

You tried to squeeze past incessant reporters and fans, barely making it through the hotel front door if it weren’t for security. The commotion outdoors gets muffled by the tall wooden doors. You sigh and lean against them, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Feeling alright, Cassie?” 

Stark’s voice makes you open your eyes to see him standing in the foyer. This would be the fourth time you feel his eyes burning through your skin. You expected him not to be upstairs in bed, asleep already, not in front of you, eyeing you with his hands buried in his pockets. 

The place he chose spared little expense, clearly for starlets like Stark looking for a lush, woodsy escape. Wooden walls covered every inch, adorned with fancy art and a modern fireplace in the living room.  The color reminds you of the tower lobby, a deep mahogany. 

“Yeah, just remind me why I’m here and not at home in my heated apartment.” You keep your voice light as you hang your coat on the rack by the door. 

Stark gives a playful scoff, too used to your sarcasm to take offense. 

“A certain former assistant thinks I need a babysitter on my own vacation.” He turns on his heels, heading towards the kitchen with a renewed energy (surely only now remembering he’s supposed to be relaxing). 

“She’s not wrong.” you agree only because Stark re-emerges from the kitchen with a tall amber colored bottle and two glasses. 

You can’t help rolling your eyes at his stiffened jazz hands, tossing yourself onto the plush armchair by the fireplace. The cold seemed to wrap itself around you, not leaving despite your proximity to the fire. Stark chose to sit on the side table next to you, rather than the wide array of more comfortable seating options. You’d gotten used to him entering your personal space since your talk in the conference room. You took it as a sign of his narcissism more than anything.

“Not sure I’m meant to be a drunk babysitter, Mr. Stark, ” you quip as he starts pouring.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he winks, offering you one. “And come on with the ‘mister’—making me feel old over here.”

It’s bothersome how little he has to say to change your mood. Something about being with just him, away from press, deadlines or state secrets, pulled you in and kept you coming to work everyday. In this moment, however, his solitary presence made you anxious. You’d have to get through this sabbatical without the chaos of the world bringing you back to reality. The real world, littered with expectations.

Free of any reason to decline, you take the glass. You and Tony do a lazy toast, clicking the glasses together before taking a sip. The peaceful quiet envelopes the cabin, save for the crackle of the fireplace. 

“You okay?” you ask upon seeing the weariness in his face, contrasting the grin he held.

“Better than okay,” he finishes the rest of his drink, pouring another faster than you take a second sip. “Happy to be away from everything, ‘get in touch with the great outdoors!’ as they say.” 

You laugh at the dramatic mocking tone he uses, extending your arm out when he makes a gesture at your empty glass. 

“I hope your atleast being slightly genuine, Mr. Stark.” you say once the glass is full once more.

“When am I ever not, Miss Cassian.” he draws on your name with the same mocking pitch as before.

You fake a wince at the taste of your own medicine, which amuses the hell of the already tipsy Stark. 

“I see what you mean, felt fifteen years added on instantly with that,” you admit, chuckling at his demeanor. 

“Hence why I’m such a nice guy and call you Cassie like a normal person,” he states smugly, taking another sip from his glass.

“Oh really, Tony? ‘Cause you only gave me that nickname after I explicitly told you no one ever calls me that.” you laugh.

“Yes and that was a great loss to the universe that I fixed,” Tony turns his head to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling (you tell yourself it’s just the alcohol and nothing else).

The both of you stay there silent, eyes locked for what quickly becomes far too long and the awkwardness makes your attention back to your drink. You finish the contents, hoping that the liquid would cool your now burning skin. 

You internally remind yourself that this is just how he is- a playboy philanthropist turned charming hero, nothing else. 

“Sorry, I know this isn’t really much of a vacation for you. ‘Know you wanna be at home, away from Stark Industries,” he deflates a bit, pouring a third drink.

“No, it’s not like that,” you interject, speaking softly, “I really don’t mind being here, and it’s still a good break from meetings and all that other tedious shit.” 

He takes a sip, seemingly mulling over your words. “Give any more thought to my offer?”

You let out a small laugh, thrown off by his sudden mention of it. You were certain then that he wasn’t being anything near serious. 

“What, you paying me to not be here? I didn’t think that was you being serious.”

“It’s a win-win, no? You get a salary, I don’t have to drag you along for this rollercoaster, Pepper doesn’t worry, everyone’s happy.” 

Clearly you’re left silent for too long, because Tony stands before he speaks again. He seems conflicted, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Look, I don’t need to see you miserable, I guess.”

“What, who said I was miserable?”

“Anyone would be dealing with me.” 

TWO DAYS LATER

After a few days, an air of melancholy had hung over you. Two days of nothing turned into endless overthinking about your life. Every decision made seemed to rattle in your bones, looking for a place to be. You tried to tell yourself it was normal to feel lost, to feel as though everything you’ve ever done was pointless. This was the first time you’d had room to think, of course everything would be overwhelming.

That didn’t help, but whatever red wine Tony brought did. 

You found it on night two, cracking open the second bottle when Tony comes downstairs. You gave a sluggish hey that gave away your state immediately, but you were too absorbed in your thoughts to meet his eyes. 

“Didn’t take you for a wine connoisseur.” he mutters, sitting in the chair across from you. 

You don’t bother with a response. In fact, you wished that he’d go away. Seeing Tony lately just reminded you more of the life you were sure you wouldn’t have. You were certain you made all the wrong choices, took all the wrong paths.

“Cassian?” he leans forward, forcing his face into your point of view. “Kinda' freaking me out here.”

“You ever think about what your life would be like if you weren’t,” you trail off for a moment, slurring slightly. “I don’t know—you?”

He laughs and it feels infectious, closing your eyes to hopefully shut up the twist in your stomach.

“Me, specifically? Who knows? Maybe I’d be a pilot, or own a hotdog stand.” he goes silent at your lack of reaction to his joke, resting his chin against his hands.

“Why, thinking about faking your death and adopting a new identity?”

The red liquid in your glass coats your dry throat. You’d love to start over. Go back and see what the other paths held. Then, the deep pit of your stomach turns, remembering how different and worthwhile working for Stark made you feel.

“What if I did everything wrong?” you ask quietly.

If you did, a small part of the anxiety in your gut assures you that it was worth it to find your way to him.

“Define ‘wrong’.”

“Not what I imagined, I guess”

To help someone who wanted to do so much to help the world.

“Well, what do you want from life?”

You go silent again. “I don’t know.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

With nothing to prove you,

and if I should lose you

—It won't be in vain.

On the last day at the cabin, you feel a genuine sense of sadness at the thought of leaving. 

Fourteen days with no reminder of the outside world had you the most relaxed in years. Bliss was all you felt waking up each morning to no phone calls, no emergencies, and no meetings. You forgot what it was like to just exist, to not have your thoughts bogged down by deadlines. You had even forgotten the benefits of good company. The demanding nature of your job meant little social life, and you didn’t realize until nearly two days in that you had been craving it. What surprised you more was that you received that good company in the form of your boss. Tony seemed to go out of his way to fill any voids of silence with quips and self-deprecating jokes to make you laugh. Clearly to spare himself the awkwardness of your dissatisfaction. 

Nothing changed about personality, but removing the dark shadow of responsibility made him visibly less wound up. It must have done the same for you, because you spent most of these last two weeks laughing (or catching up on well-needed sleep). You tried to avoid him lately, not wanting to add fuel to the fire you could feel growing for him. Opting for weeks of solitude with him was possibly not the wisest route.

Retroactively, if you had all this sudden free time at home alone, you probably would’ve gone a little crazy. 

You must be wearing your solace on your face, because that night, during dinner, Stark asks if something is wrong.

“Is it a bad thing if I don't want to go back to New York?” you chuckle at your own absurdity, scraping the last bits of food into the trash.

“Is it worse if I agree?” he smiles, looking up from his own plate. 

“Not excited to go back to being an Avenger?” you ask honestly, sitting back down at the kitchen table, next to him.

“Ha, excited’s the wrong word.” he sits back in his chair, letting out a sigh. “You’re not jumping to get back out there either.”

You give an agreeing nod, resting your head in your hands when you start mentally going through all the tasks waiting for you tomorrow. 

“You don’t have to go back like I do. You can get away from all this.”

When you look up, Tony’s eyes are glued to the floor. 

“You know, you can just fire me if it’s that much of a bother to you.” you say sharply. 

Truthfully, it was starting to come off as a subtle hint to leave rather than concern. It muddied whatever imaginary connection you maybe thought you’d fostered over these last few weeks. All the little touches and extra concern bounced around in the back of your head like a live grenade. You didn’t know how much of it was aimed towards you, or just his charismatic nature. Maybe there was never any charisma, and he was the same as any other CEO.

“Cassie, that’s the last thing I want.” he says, like he’s offended, and you want to laugh at the audacity.

“Could’ve fooled me.” you retort, standing to exit the kitchen.

Tony intercepts you at the doorway, however, clearly scrambling for words to ease the newly-created tension. All it really does is annoy you more, seeing those brown eyes pleading silently. Either way, you can’t get past. 

“I—This is too much for anyone to handle. I can barely handle it and that’s because you do so much behind-the-scenes for me. A lot of people have reached their wits end with me and I don’t want that with you.”

It sounds painful for him to say, and despite his soft tone, it’s the most serious you’ve ever heard him be.

“I think you’re worried a bit too—”

“I’d rather not be the reason you spend weeks in bed, okay?” 

Frozen in the doorway, your anger still boils. It felt like the thing you were most ashamed about being thrown in your face. You want to go back to that conference room and never tell him a thing. It’d save you the confusion, save you from all the mixed signals. He couldn’t mean it. You remember the way he reluctantly submitted to Pepper and hired you. Tony didn’t care, he never wanted you here in the first place. You felt stupid for thinking anything else.

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business." 

Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. 

“My business is your job, can’t you see I’m trying to be supportive?” 

You almost start to regret your words, but you can’t stand the way he looks at you like some fragile thing. 

For the fifth time, you're hot under his gaze, but it does nothing besides flare your anger more.

“I don’t need your support, stop acting like you have any idea what’s best for me.” you snap, taking a step closer.

To your surprise, Tony closes the remaining distance, and you have to look up to maintain your glare. Tony's expression shifts from concern to frustration, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Clearly, you don’t even know what’s best for you. Forgive me for giving a damn.” he scoffs.

You roll your eyes, deciding to just put an end to this conversation. In his frustration, Tony left a wide enough gap for you to try and snake through. Your heated exit must’ve been obvious, because he steps back to keep you in front of him.

“Seriously?” your fists clench at your sides, heat spreading up your arms to your cheeks. 

“Why are you still here?” he softens a bit, but not entirely folding his arms over his chest.

It’s not enough though— your irritation is unchanging even under his tender gaze.  It was easier to stay angry and pretend like he wasn’t the only thing keeping you. To not admit that you didn’t want to abandon him.

“Why’d you bring me here?” you retort through gritted teeth, motioning at the logged walls around you.

“Damn it, I thought it’d help, Cassie!”

The severity of his words leaves you speechless. You never heard him really raise his voice, let alone come close to yelling.

“But, clearly, I shouldn’t have bothered.” Tony moves from the doorway, taking fast steps past you towards the main door before you can say anything.

In an effort to keep him from storming out, you reach out for his arm as he brushes by. Instantly, he pulls away as if you're made of open flames. You try to show the hurt on your face, but now that your anger has started to dissipate, you notice a similar transformation in Tony. To your benefit, though, it keeps his feet firmly planted. 

“I’m not some broken person you need to protect.” you admit, avoiding the potential anger still in his eyes. 

“Wow, really? Didn’t know.” 

Always with the jokes and sarcasm. You lift your head to Tony’s expectant gaze, causing you to sigh heavily.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he states dryly, leaning back against the kitchen table. “Why are you still here?”

“You keep assuming I hate my life.” 

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, rather dramatically in your opinion. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” he responds, mocking your words from earlier. “You avoid me like the plague lately, and I don’t know how you expect me to just see you unhappy and say nothing”

“That has nothing to do with work-”

“Then what is it?” 

There’s something else in his eyes, something like the sparkle you saw all those months ago. 

You look at him with pleading eyes of your own. A sense of entrapment overwhelms you, stuck with the choice between potentially ruining everything or, well, still potentially ruining everything. You wish he really could just read your mind and understand. Understand that you didn’t want to leave him, that you were avoiding him to protect your own, admittedly fragile, heart. 

"Can't you just accept that I don't want to leave?" you manage, your voice barely louder than a pin drop.

Your heart flutters as he steps closer, though it shouldn't surprise you; he's never been one to respect personal space, and an argument wouldn't change that.

"No, I need to hear you say it," his tone is low, almost taunting, and his unyielding gaze sends another wave of fluttering through you.

"I don't want to leave you."

In the next second, Tony's lips crash against yours, pinning your back to the wall with a heavy thud. You don’t notice, the world fading with the taste of vanilla on your tongue and the scratch of his beard on your chin. Your thoughts become a blur as Tony's teeth graze your lips, and his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer, the arc reactor pressing into your skin. 

When the kiss ends, you're both left panting, yet he still clings to you, gripping your waist like he’s scared you’re going to run away. 

“I told you- the last thing I want is for you to leave.” he says sternly, voice still low. You can’t see his face, buried in the crook of your neck, but the heavy breath on your skin makes you lightheaded.

“Tony-”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s wrong to think I know what’s best for you. I just want you to be happy.” 

“I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I care about you too much for that, Cassie.”

“I’m your assistant, Tony.”

Tony gently cups a hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his, his thumb caressing your cheek. He studies your face intently, searching for any signs that he should stop while he's ahead. You stopped counting how often he leaves you a mess with his eyes, and try your best not to stare at his swollen lips.

“Then tell me you don’t feel the same.” he whispers.

A beat of silence passes, the fire crackling in the next room uninterrupted. 

“I…can’t.” you answer hesitantly.

The confession hangs heavy in the cabin’s stagnant air. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, waiting for the dream to end. 

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Doing this wrong, ruining everything.” Your eyes squeeze shut from embarrassment.

Tony laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said, before kissing you again. It’s soft and slower than before, calloused hands still cupping your face.

“I think you’re the one who worries too much. When has anything bad happened to you when you’re with me?” Tony suggests, grinning, his eyes filled with warmth. 

You want to mention an office party a few months ago, where a drunk attendee threw up on your shoes, but you let him make his point. 

“Let me do the worrying for a bit, sound good?”

THREE WEEKS LATER

You felt like you traded seasons getting back to New York at the start of spring. You hadn’t gone home, instead staying in the tower at Tony’s request. You didn’t mind it at all, being surrounded with more comfort than you could ask for. 

Tony made it his personal mission to keep you away from all things work related, despite how many times you told him you enjoyed helping him. One small problem being that he left for a mission a few days ago, and you haven’t got the faintest clue where he was or when he was returning. The first day, you relished in a bit of solitude, reading books that sat on your shelf the last two years untouched or catching up with friends that you lost touch with. To your relief, most understood your reason for disconnecting, and the books were captivating. Now, however, it was day three, and you were starting to do the one thing he asked you not to— worry.

Just as the rain starts to splatter the tall windows of his penthouse, you’re considering reaching out to Fury or Hill to make sure he’s at least still breathing. The only thing that stops you is the ding! of the elevator, turning your nerves back down to zero.

When you meet him at the door, a wide smile breaks out on his face—surprised you’re still there.

“How was it?” you ask, as Tony drops his bag and moves towards you. You feel slightly awkward in this new territory with him, shifting your weight anxiously.

“We’re getting closer to the scepter. Hydra’s pulling out all the stops these days.” 

As Tony steps into the light, a deep freshly-stitched cut under his right eye comes into view. Before you can say anything about the cut, you notice the large bandage on his arm, and a matching bruise crawling up his shoulder.

“What the hell happened?” 

Tony slowly peels off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch behind you. “Oh, this? This is nothing, you should see the other guy.” he says with a flashy grin.

You’re busy scanning for more injuries, eyes raking for more bandages and stitches. Tony doesn’t let you continue for long though, taking your hands in his.

“What’d I tell you about worrying?” he teases, stroking your hair and planting a quick kiss on your lips.

You give an annoyed sigh, wishing he didn’t irritate and charm you in the same breath so much.

“I think it’s natural to worry when you’re bleeding.” you gruff, letting Tony pull you into a tight embrace. 

“Then I’m not doing my job, am I?” You don’t protest when his hands roam over your body, placing light kisses against your neck. “Let me take your mind off things.”

The light kisses on your neck turn into heavy bites, leaving marks along your collarbones. He creates his own path along your skin, sighing softly as his mouth finds every inch of skin your pajamas didn’t cover. You’re a panting mess as he trails down your body, twisting a hand into his messy locks. 

When he kneels before you, you feel unsteady on your feet. You wish you could say you two had gone this far already, but Tony considered himself a self-proclaimed gentleman and insisted you wait. It seems three days away from you was enough for the chivalry to fly out of the window. 

He stops for a moment, fingers hooked in your shorts, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the inside of your trembling thigh.

“Cassian?”

“Mhm?” You mumble, shutting your eyes. Nerves and anticipation mix terribly in your stomach, making you unable to process the desire on his face. You feel the fabric of your shorts slide down your legs with your panties. The cool air doesn’t help you any, rendering your skin sensitive and Tony’s hand feel like a furnace. 

“Relax, doll.”

You suck in a breath as his lips wrap around your clit, body stilling— the hand in his hair tightening. Weeks of Tony’s insistent waiting had you thinking your first time with him would be slower- you were ill-prepared for the way he runs through your folds with absolute filth. He moans into you, keeping a tight hold on your thighs to hold you close. 

He’s quick—grazing teeth against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance— just to drag the tip of his tongue against your length and return your clit to start the cycle all over again. You feel the wetness coating the inside of your thighs, saturing his scratchy stubble on your skin. 

You bring your free hand to the back of the couch as he continues, sighing into your core and sending shockwaves up your spine. You try to maintain some type of balance, legs growing shaky again in pleasure rather than anxiety for a change. 

“Tony, god, that’s-” You’re cut off by your own moan when you feel Tony insert a finger into your soaking cunt, rocking slowly as his mouth finds its way back to your clit.

He pulls away a moment, letting his thumb keep the pressure against your sensitive bud. Your head tilts back, nails digging into the leather behind you. Out of your view, Tony wears a smug grin, pleased to see you taking his directive to heart. The middle of the living room might not have been his first choice, but it’s well worth it. Besides the fact you taste like heaven, it’s worth hearing every sound escape your lips.

Getting caught up in that, however, caused him to loosen the grip on your thighs. When his fingers curve inside you, your hips jerk against him. The calloused fingers tighten on your legs, to your slight dismay.

“Easy, doll, I got you.” he mumbles, returning his focus to eliciting more intoxicating moans from you.

Tony renders you a complete mess sooner than you’d like to admit, gasping above him as the warmth in your core grows overwhelming. If you told yourself a year ago that your boss would have you panting and begging, you wouldn’t believe it. Regardless of belief, his tongue pulls plea after plea from you. Your stomach feels painfully coiled- mind absorbed with the wet, filthy sound of Tony’s mouth on your cunt.

With another curve of his finger, you sent over the edge—crying out Tony’s name like a prayer and abandoning the hand tangled in his hair to hold yourself up. Tony lets you ride out your orgasm against his fingers, kissing the damp skin between your legs and muttering soft praises. 

It’s not until you sense him standing again in front of you that you open your eyes. You immediately want to take it back when you see the shit-eating grin covering his shiny face. The sight sends a new wave of desire through you, staring at his mouth with your lips parted, panting softly. Did he have to look so good constantly?

“As cute as you are when you’re worried, I think I prefer this look on you.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark x you #seikkoiwrites

[fryingpan1234567]

yeah, more of these…

Batboys x reader feat. living together bc I don’t see enough headcanons about that (in some you’re a super and in some you’re not)

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dick Grayson/ Nightwing

We’re imagining a Matt Murdock style Manhattan apartment, with entire walls made of murky glass, limited amount of walls within the place, very nice. It’s in Blüdhaven (:

There are two bedrooms. The two of you live in the smaller one and the master is for superhero stuff

All your tech, suits, files, medical, all that

The ceiling in your room is glass!!

The doggo is a black German Shepherd with a white patch on his chest that looks like the Nightwing symbol, which is the entire reason you got him. His name is Eagle :D

No matter where you work, the two of you take your lunches together every day and get coffee before work if there’s enough time. You picked this place because it’s close to both your jobs, obvi

As far as decor goes, there are a few high-humidity plants, neutral and blue tones, and cool metal

It’s always humid in your place for the plants, but it’s nice

Rainforest vibes, especially when it’s raining

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jason Todd/ Red Hood

So many books

All the books

Everywhere

Y’all’s live out kind of in the middle of nowhere so it’s easier to retreat and lay low when necessary

Bout an hour out of Gotham

That’s Albus Dumbledore, the Great Dane

Alby for short cause she’s actually a girl but Jay wasn’t budging on that name

Kitty is Angelica

Anyways it’s nice and quiet out there, no city noises or being constantly worried about a stray bomb being thrown in a window

Every goddamn cup or container in your house is a mason jar

Plates and bowls are literally just hammered out sheets of scrap metal

It’s an aesthetic tbh

Plenty of succulents

Anyways the library? Massive

The kitchen? Top of the line

Maybe you two live out in the middle of nowhere, but no way in hell do you pass up the opportunity to abuse Bruce’s money to build a kickass house with all your favorite things

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tim Drake/ Red Robin

Tim wanted to stay close to Bruce, as he is still a Robin

So y’all’s are only like a ten minute drive from the manor

Two doggos!! Rapunzel and Rella. They are both trained service dogs for anxiety and PTSD, for you and Tim both. Damian helped Bruce find them for you when the two of you moved in :DD

You have a smaller apartment, but it’s close to the top of the building and you actually get to see the Gotham sun sometimes

Whenever Rella or Rapunzel knows Tim’s been on his computer too long, or you’re hyperfixated on a case, or neither of you have slept in a while, they’ll drag you away from your work for a walk or a nap or food

Da best guard dogs :3

MOVING AWAY FROM THE DOGS

The house has quite the modern vibe going

Bright colors, cool shapes, sensible uses of space

Yes, the loft king bed is a real thing

Although sometimes you guys end up sleeping in the living room with a blanket fort bc your dogs can’t follow you up the ladder

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Damian Wayne/ Robin

First and foremost: Playdough’s rainbow spots are just dye; she’s fine I promise

Dami brought Titus and Alfred, obviously, but sadly Batcow had to stay at the manor. The condo building owners didn’t like the idea of that; a Great Dane is barely allowed as it is

The other cat is Cookie!! She’s nice but you and Dami tell everyone she’s mean so when they get affection they feel all warm inside [:

Keep in mind these guys are the only permanent ones- you foster all kinds of animals, including more dogs and cats, chinchillas, guinea pigs, rabbits, birds, even a bat once

Dami also had to stay close to the manor for Robin purposes. You guys are a few minutes away

There are little weapons and med kits and snacks (human and pet) scattered all over your place

Everything is so dark at your place so bloodstains are less noticable

(Dami tends to stumble through a window at like four in the morning, potentially with stab or gunshot wounds and bleeds all over the place)

If you’re a nurse, the stitching up came easy

If you’re not… you had to learn pretty fast

But hey it’s not all bad you’ve got four emotional support animals and a giant tv to watch Nat Geo on

#dc #headcanon #batboys #batboys x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader

[punkassfrance]

Love and Dopamine - Tess x Joel x Reader

NSFW, 18+ ONLY Usually, Tess and Joel have to try not to wake you when they come home late. Tonight, you couldn't sleep anyway. This work contains: Threesome - F/F/M, AFAB reader, Cunnilingus, Masturbation, gender neutral reader, Smut, slight mommy kink, Established Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Implied Age Gap

The first few times Joel and Tess came home after a run, they made no effort to stay quiet. They’d never had a need to before, after all; you were a relatively new addition to their lives. Bags and coats hit the floor without regard to noise, bottles of whiskey clattered against glass as shaking hands poured drinks. Then they’d flop into bed beside you, each kissing you wherever they could reach before dozing off. His arm would wrap around your side and tug you closer, she would cuddle up and press your face into the crook of her neck. Maybe they just took you in to be their personal bed warmer, but you weren’t complaining if this is where it got you.

  Once you asked them to quiet down a bit, it was nice at first- until the bed dipped and hands grabbed for you with no warning every time they came home. 

  Tonight, you can’t sleep.

  It’s got to be around three or four, but you can’t be certain. You just know the sun set quite a while ago. Rain patters at the window in your bedroom, one of the FEDRA floodlights casting a stream of light across your bed from down the street. Some nights, it was nice. Tonight, it kept you up. You’ve tried everything. Counting sheep, a glass of whiskey, half of a blunt tucked under the floorboards, and just lying there like a corpse. Before the outbreak, you might have gone for a drive, or maybe a walk. You would never know.

  The front door opens.

  Tess and Joel had trained you to keep a sharp ear, even at rest, which was the only reason you actually noticed someone enter. Joel had greased the door so it stopped squeaking, but he hadn’t gotten around to fixing the swelling frame yet. 

  “You go lay down, I’ll put everything away.” It sounds like Tess. Then, a quiet smack. “...knock it off. You can grab my ass all you want in the morning, go warm them up. Try not to wake them.”

  “I know, sugar,” Joel whispers, his footsteps approaching the bedroom door. 

  Dim light from the kitchen illuminates a silhouette in the doorway for only a moment before it’s shut out again, fabric shuffling as he takes off his coat. He hardly makes a noise as he undresses, only his belt buckle jingling as his jeans hit the floor. The bedframe creaks as he crawls into bed behind you, pulling up a blanket you weren’t using, arm wrapping around your waist as his bare chest presses into your back. Chapped lips kiss your shoulder blade before he shifts and pulls you in.

  “Hey there, cowboy.”

  He freezes. “I didn’t know you were up…sorry if we woke you.” 

  “You didn’t. Couldn’t sleep.”

  He sits up on an elbow, hand skating over your hip as he tries to get a look at your face. “You feeling alright, hon?” You hadn’t slept right since you fled the Baltimore QZ- if the memories of the things you saw didn’t keep you up, they would wake you before long. Joel and Tess, somehow with the patience of saints, put you back to sleep time and time again.

  “I’m alright, just got energy to burn off. Can’t settle in.” You reach for his hand, squeezing it. “But aren’t you such a doting boyfriend?” 

  He grunts and turns his head into the pillow. “Too old to be your damn boyfriend.” You giggle at him being his usual self as the door cracks open. Light from a passing patrol tank shows you Tess, shutting the door behind her. She looks tired and worn, a few fresh scratches scattered across her face. Her lips curve into a subtle smile as she looks at you, eyes shutting for a moment before she bends down to tug her boots off and shed her pants. White cotton underwear and a soft stomach draw your eye as she pulls her shirt over her head, reaching back to undo the clasps of her bra.

  She steps over to the window, taking a quick glance over the streets before drawing the makeshift blanket curtain. Something firm presses against your ass as she turns to you and drops her bra on the chair, Joel eyeing her as she approaches the bed. Your mouth dries a bit, the same thing on your mind. 

  “I think someone wants you, Tess. Either that or he’s got something in his pocket.” You wiggle your hips to make a point. 

  Darkness hides any expression on her face, but you can hear a soft chuckle as she eases into bed beside you. “What else is new, kid?” Her hand reaches behind you to caress Joel’s face. “He's insatiable lately.” She sighs and presses her face into your neck. Her teeth nip at the tender skin, kissing at your jawline. Fingers comb through your hair.

  “Awful outside, today.” Tess grunts. Joel huffs.

  “No shit.” 

  They cut the conversation there thankfully- they both know how anxious you get hearing about their close calls. Joel’s hand trails down your stomach, lifting your shirt and resting on your stomach. His hands are warm and rough on tender skin.

  Tess pulls back and grabs your chin, tilting your face up as she goes in for a kiss. Her lips are less chapped- you’re pretty sure Frank sets aside lip balm just for her- but she’s no more gentle than Joel. Gentle has never been a word to describe her. Neither of them are the nurturing type; any of that melted away within days of the outbreak. Every once in a while, you’re sure you can see it- but those moments are fleeting.

  Two of her fingers press into your underwear, and you’re not even sure when her hand got down there. You shudder and arch your back, and she takes the opportunity to hold you tighter with her other arm. You feel more kisses along your shoulder blades, Joel grabbing your hip to grind himself on your ass. Tess slides down your body, fingers tucking into the waistband of your underwear to pull them down. 

  “Tess…you both just got back, you should relax.” Your breath hitches as she drags her tongue over your cunt, then kisses your hip.

  “This is how we relax, sweetheart. Or at least, how I do.”

  Joel squeezes your ass before he scoots away, pulling you to lay on your back to give Tess a better angle. His hand grabs your thigh and pulls your leg up toward him, spreading you out for her to enjoy. Hearing her hum at what she managed to see in the thin light, your pussy feels warm and wet as she puts her mouth back on you. 

  "You ought to be up when we get back more often, sugar. This is a nice way to unwind. Dontcha think, Tess?" He hasn't even pulled his cock out, grinding against the underside of your thigh in his boxers.

  Tess grunts and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling up for a moment to lay kisses along your thigh. In the sliver of light, you can see a shine on her face. "Couldn't agree more." She blows gently before going back down, the temperature change sending shudders up your body. 

  You hear noise, moans and grunts trailing upward, mostly likely yourself. Tess has always blown your mind with her tongue, and lucky for you, she seemed to love giving oral more than she loved to breathe. As she grips your thighs and pulls herself closer, she twirls her tongue around your clit and moans like it’s the best meal she’d ever had. 

  You reach down to grab her hair gently as your climax hits, the desperate noises in the room getting louder. There may be some pounding on the wall by the headboard, but you’ve never cared about that. It’s a strange confidence, walking through the halls of your apartment covered in hickies, with everyone you pass knowing how satisfied your partners leave you. 

  Tess pulls off your cunt and presses gentle kisses to your stomach, whispering praises as you come down from the high.  Once your senses come back in waves, you feel the bed shaking as Joel fucks his fist to completion. Something wet hits your thigh, another reason to wash the sheets (again).   

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I think we’re both too tired to fuck you properly.” Tess crawls up to kiss you, tugging on your lip as she pulls away and wipes her mouth. She seems to like doing that- you’ve grown used to the taste of your own cunt by now. At the least, she sure seems to adore it. “You can choke on momma’s cock in the morning.”

  Joel sighs and flops over, pulling you to lay on his chest. Tess situates herself behind you, snuggling in. 

  “Get some sleep, babydoll.”

Hope you enjoyed! Check out my masterlist with all of my info and other works! Comments are always appreciated c:

#joel the last of us #joel x tess #the last of us #tess x reader #tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #joel/tess/reader #joel x tess x reader #joel x reader

[miasmaghoul]

what about

nsfw

rain

all by himself

huh

jusy saying

Did someone say transmasc Rain with a breeding kink?

(It was me, I said transmasc Rain with a breeding kink.)

Rain sighs as he shuts the hotel room door, tossing his suitcase on the bed and flopping down next to it. He scrubs at his face with both hands.

It's been a long day, but not an eventful one. Copia had chosen himself and Cirrus to accompany him on this trip, this week long excursion to attend a series of press conferences. To expand the church's reach, Sister Imperator had said. The ghoul were really only needed for the sake of appearances. Not that he really minded; it was nice to get away from the abbey for a bit, to have a change of scenery.

But the nine hour drive to...wherever it is they are now had been tiring. Rain had tried to sleep, Cirrus had tried to read, but Copia had insisted on talking for nearly their entire trip. As much as he loves the Cardinal, Rain thinks if he never has to hear the man's voice again it'll be a blessing. He's impossibly grateful that they all have their own rooms, the silence is golden.

Rain lets himself enjoy it for a long while, basking in nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the distant drone of traffic. It's soothing, simple white noise that helps to relieve the pressure between his eyes. It's late in the evening and Rain is tempted to simply crash in his clothes, but he knows he'll regret it. He's stiff and sore and the bathtub is calling his name.

He forces himself up after a short while, stretching long arms over his head and letting out a pleased trill when his spine gives a series of pops. Rain clicks on the bedside lamp, taking in the room as he toes off his shoes and shrugs out of his t-shirt. It's nothing fancy; a king size bed with all white linens and too many pillows. Pale blue walls and gray carpet. A low chair with a chest of drawers beside it, a flat screen tv perched on top of them. Standard, but comfortable.

Rain grabs his suitcase, on the hunt for his pajama pants and baggie of toiletries. Hotel shampoo always dries out his hair in a way he can't stand. Dewdrop calls him a princess for it, as though the fire ghoul didn't have a twelve step haircare routine himself. Rain unzips the case and flips the lid.

On top of his clothes sits a small drawstring bag he doesn't recognize, beige canvas. Rain raises an eyebrow as he picks it up, weighing the bag in his hands - not too heavy, whatever it is. Beneath it is a piece of paper, and Rain sets the bag aside. He unfolds the paper and smirks.

In case you miss me.

He'd recognize Swiss's scratchy lettering anywhere, even if the note wasn't decorated with little drawings of hearts and dicks. Rain tosses it on the nightstand and retrieves the bag, pulling it open and dumping the contents on the bed. He snorts.

It's a dildo. Of course it's a dildo. But it's different that the ones he has in his nightstand back at the abbey. Aside from the coloring - sapphire blue marbled with metallic gold, a surprisingly striking combination - it looks, somehow, just like Swiss. Not too long but nice and thick, complete with a fat knot that has Rain's mouth watering.

Suddenly, he isn't quite so tired.

He shoves his jeans and boxers off while he stares at the toy, tilting his head. He thinks about texting Swiss. About asking how he managed to find a piece of silicone that looks exactly like his ridiculously perfect cock. It's a question worth asking, certainly, but the sudden tingling between his legs tells him it can wait.

Rain picks it up as he slides onto the bed, settling against the cool covers and the wall of pillows. It even feels like Swiss, somehow. He squeezes the knot and imagines the sound Swiss would make - a tight groan, one that is permanently etched into Rain's mind. He's heard it so many times, how could it not be? That tingle graduates to a dull ache when Rain brings the toy to his mouth, licking up the length of it. He slides it between his lips and the astoundingly familiar weight of it on his tongue has him groaning.

His free hand skates across his chest, callused fingers catching on soft skin. Rain pinches a nipple as he starts to suck, swirling his tongue over the slightly pointed tip. Just like Swiss's. He's fucking his own mouth in no time, a slow in-an-out that he's intimately familiar with. His other hand travels south while he does, tracing lean muscle and slipping through soft curls. Rain groans around the dildo when he grazes his clit, already stiff and throbbing.

"Fuck, Swiss," he sighs, rubbing slow circles and giving the toy another long lick, "love your cock so much."

It's something he'd never say to the other ghoul, lest his already massive ego inflate even further, but here?

"Feels so good in my mouth," he breathes, sucking at the knot and playing those wonderful sounds back in his head, "gets me so fucking wet, every time."

Rain's fingers slides from him clit, down through his already slick folds. So much wetter than he should be after so little time, but that's always how it goes with Swiss. Rain gasps as he traces silky lips, teasing his entrance. He can't stop running his tongue over the toy's knot, mouthing at it as he slips a finger inside with a soft moan.

"Gonna knot me tonight?" He's panting already. "Yeah, I think you are. Think you're gonna get me all stretched out." Rain adds a second finger - he's already soaked, and the direction his thoughts are going only make it worse. "Get me stuck on it and fill me up, fuck."

Rain moans low in his throat as he crooks his fingers just so, hips rolling when he hits that one perfect spot. The heel of his hand works his clit as he stretches himself, quick and sloppy. Impatient. He's wet to his thighs now, probably dripping onto the bedding. He imagines Swiss's face buried between his legs, lapping at him with that impossibly skilled tongue.

"Shit, fuck," Rain moves his slick fingers back to stroke his clit, "inside, inside, need it."

He should probably feel a little silly begging into an empty room. But when he glides the toy through his folds to get it all wet, when he presses the head into his hungry cunt - all he can do is feel.

Rain isn't slow about it. He can't be, because Swiss wouldn't be. Not in the memory he's reliving. No, this requires a desperate, frantic pace. Deep, rough thrusts that hit all the best spots deep inside him. Rain closes his eyes and pictures Swiss over him - one hand on Rain's lower back, the other on the back of his neck, foreheads pressed together with Rain's legs around his waist. No words spoken, just harsh breathing, the sound of skin on skin and Rain's needy whines at each thrust.

"Swiss, fuck, oh Lucifer." Rain's fingers fly over his swollen clit as he fucks himself hard and fast. Every bump of the knot has him yipping, rocking his hips to meet his own movements. The tangle of arousal in his gut is volcano hot and unfurling fast; all he can see and feel is Swiss, and the cresting wave of pleasure inside him has Rain crying out. "Right there, right there, fuck yes!"

He's so close he could cry, shaking head to toe as he grits his teeth. But he can't cum like this, not tonight. No, tonight he needs -

"Give it to me, Swiss," he pants, thighs trembling, "give me your fucking knot, I need it, I -" Rain moans, high and feminine, arching off the mattress. "Fuck, fill me up, do it."

He's right there, he's right fucking there and his mind and body are filled with nothing but Swiss.

"Breed me!"

Rain cums hard, colors blooming behind his eyelids as he shoves Swiss's knot inside with a strangled sob. It's so close to the real thing he can't wrap his mind around it - can't believe that the image of Swiss's pained face and those choked cries are only in his head. The knot stretches him so wonderfully, the rhythmic clench of his cunt sending wracking shivers through every inch of his quivering body.

It takes ages for Rain to come down, twitching from head to toe as he tries to remember how to breathe. He's sweaty and boneless, his nerves are shot and his head is filled with static. The only thing missing is the heavy press of Swiss's body over his own, the scratch of stubble against his throat. Rain drags shaking fingers through his hair and imagines that's Swiss too.

Eventually he falls back into his own body, so loose and sated that he can barely make himself move. Rain manages to grab his phone off the nightstand, blinking blearily at the screen. His head is still delightfully fuzzy, a cum-drunk grin plastered on his face as he pulls up his texts.

R: hey

S: Hey Rainbow. You make it to the hotel?

R: mmhmm

R: found my present too

S: Ha, surprise! You like it?

Rain considers his options. He could tease, say it's better than the real thing. Or he could say it was ridiculous, that it's almost funny how Swiss is so impossibly full of himself. Or...

Rain cants his hips, spreads himself open and snaps a picture of where he's still stretched around that knot.

R: what do you think?

The phone rings almost immediately, and Rain laughs.

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #though this is basically a full fic lmao #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul (in spirit) #transmasc rain #im not projecting youre projecting

[andersons-bayonettes]

Back to regular Price content, because I just really am down bad for him... so let's continue our deranged Simping!

On today's menu? Lumberjack Price heheheh

Totally not because I am such a simp for him and him, living in the woods? Say less.

The first time you two would meet would be because you got lost in the woods and saw his house. You ha djust wanted to go for a nice stroll, but in the woods your phone didn't work, it had no connection to anything you could have used to come home, you couldn't call anyone and the trees paired with the grey clouds and noises and the booming thunder just irritated you too much :(

Then, like a glimmer of hope, you saw his house! A faint light glowing through the trees and the darkness, it had started to rain so you were just thankful to find something. Rushing through the trees, and tripping once or twice over the undergrowth, catching yourself everytime, you reached his door. It was a house reminiscent of a farm, it just looked scaled down a whole lot, like a huge farm with cows had been shrunk to only harbor chickens. You debated if this was wise. Someone out here would probably want his peace, picking this place out on purpose. You were nervous and pressed the doorbell, the shrill and loud noise ringing out to you even through the closed windows.

The first thing you heard was a few locks unlocking on the other side of the door. Before it opened, a man standing in front of you, while with a little chub still muscular and toned well, hair growing on his chest and trailing all the way down, disappearing into his jeans. His hair was wet and there was a towel on the dresser behind him. "Hello?" His voice sounded, much more gentle than one would anticipate despite the way it rumbled. "I'm sorry, I got lost and because of the storm I can't reach anyone. I am deeply sorry for disturbing you, sir, but I wanted to ask if you would provide me shelter until I can find my way home again?" He eyed you for a second, rolling the idea around in his head, not even really debating it. He was a kind man, after all.

He smiled, his cheeks squishing up and your heart seemed to flutter a bit. How cute, you thought. He stepped aside. "Of course, miss. Come on in." He shit the door behind you, locking some of the locks but not all. Maybe to give you some sense of comfort, as to not give you the feeling of being trapped. He told you to wait a second and grabbed a new towel from one of the closets, handing it to you so you could have some warmth and something to dry yourself with. It wasn't much, but it was something. "I don't mind you staying here, you are probably really cold, so you are free to use my shower if you like. I can give you some clothes for the night since the storm won't stop until tomorrow morning. I'll make the couch ready for you." You really were surprised by how nice he was, how welcoming. But you didn't ask, accepting his offers graciously.

He showed you the shower, where you could dry your clothes, gave you old ones of his - way too large on your body but yet comfortable - and showed you everything you needed in case you had to get up at night. He was very nice, knew what you needed without you even uttering a word. The couch was soft and sat in, indents on the old cushions, smelling like the smoke of a bonfire, the woodsy scent of the forest, a faint buzz of cigar smoke on it as well, mixed with something else you couldn't quite place. The pillow he provided you with felt like a cloud, the blankets that had looked scratchy and poorly made were the most heavenly thing you had ever the pleasure of sleeping in. It was surprising really. But you drifted fast to sleep, adrenaline now worn off and tiring your body.

When you awoke the room was lit in a soft golden glow, it was early in the morning, way earlier than you expected to wake up, but you felt refreshed and as if you had never needed more sleep in your life. You could hear a dog barking loudly, chicken chirping. And other birds singing. It was like the storm never happened. You cuddled deeper into the cushions however, not wanting to get up just yet. And that was when the door to the house opened and the drenched man that lived here entered again. His button up shirt was soaked, the dark hairs on his chest visible through the fabric now. It clung to him for dear life, nearly drenching the big bundle he carried in his arms. Shortly following after, right at his heel was a dog, tall and wet as well, it's fur speckled with dirt, and yet it never seemed happier. He took the bundle to the fireplace, unpacking the wooden slabs from the cloth and threw them in the coals and ashes from the last fire, before he grabbed himself one of the statues standing on it, popping the head of and revealing the contraption within. Pressing a button, a pretty big flame spit out of the contraption and lit the first slab on fire, the others following shortly after.

He took his shirt off, laying it out in front of the fire, before sitting down and staring into it, while the dog instead waddled over to you, your pets earning a small, happy bark and a tail wag, before it sauntered back over to the man and floppe ddown next to him. "That's a nice dog." You commented, and surprised he turned around. He seemed puzzled for a second, probably haven forgotten about you altogether. "Her name's Riley. Good Dog. From one of my old friends." His voice was gruff and coarse. "And what's your name?" He seemed to think for a second. "John." You introduced yourself back to him. "I know I came to you in the middle of a storm yesterday, I truly am thankful for your kindness. However, I really need to go back and I don't want to overstay my welcome." He cut you off before you finished "It's alright, lass. Go and get your things, they're dried by now."

After getting dressed in your own clothes again, you collected your bag and soon stood in front of his door, him on the other side as you scrambled for words. "I really don't want to seem rude. Is there anything I can give you as a thank you?" He shook his head. "No need to, I have everything I need here." "But there must be something, I can't just stay in your house, use electricity, water and space and expect you to cover it all." "It's fine, really. I just did what any respectable man would, don't worry about it."

He told you how to find him however, considering his hut was deep in the woods and you had stumbled on it in the middle of a storm, your insistence on getting him something in return too much for him to turn down, even if you both were stubborn. He and Riley decided to help you out of the woods however - mainly Riley, considering she wouldn't stop following you and barking at John until he begrudgingly came with. As a final goodbye he tipped his hat, the edge of the woods visible. Riley earned a few scratches from you as you thanked the two again and left. But not for long, you would see them again very soon

Sorry btw that this isn't so long and took such a long time, I just had a hot ton to do at home, work, school... then I lost motivation and oh well.

Maybe a second part incoming? Idk tbh

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader

[bylerbigbang]

Teal Streaked Ribbons

Fic by @gardenfaerie | Art by @solisevart

Teen | 17k words

Everything should be perfect now. The Upside down was gone. Will was attending college. And he was in a happy relationship with Mike Wheeler, the boy he loved since forever.

But there was one glaring problem: Mike clearly wanted to take things further in their relationship. And despite Will wanting the same, he couldn't seem to shake this mental block that was putting a divide between him and Mike.

After all, how was he supposed to explain to his boyfriend that his body hasn't quite felt like his own since everything Henry did to him?

Warnings: Discussions about sexual assault, Implied/referenced sexual trauma, Implied Sexual content, Fade to black scene

Read on Ao3 | View Art

Read an excerpt below:

It was a dreary, rainy night when things got especially bad.

Will woke up gasping.

He’d never had one that bad— that graphic, and violent, and… vivid.

He sat up with a choked sound, tears streaming down his face.

As he tried to control his breathing, his trembling frame was suddenly brought into warm familiar arms. He hadn't even registered when Mike woke up.

Mike rubbed soothing circles into his back as he murmured, “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. You're safe, I’m right here.” He pulled back just slightly to wipe the tears from his cheeks before tucking him under his chin.

Will sighed and let his body go boneless and pliant against Mike’s chest. He knew he was being selfish for not telling Mike to just go back to bed. After all, he had early classes and Will was the one disturbing his sleep at 3am. Still, the soothing strokes of Mike’s palms against his shoulder and back felt too nice to give up so quickly, not when he’d been shaken up so badly. And so they stayed sitting like that a little longer, with Will’s head resting against Mike’s chest, and body curled up and tucked between his legs.

“So, what happened?” Mike was the one to break the silence.

“Just,” Will faltered slightly, “the usual you know.”

“Seemed a lot worse than the usual.”

Images from his dream flashed across his mind. Will closed his eyes, the rain pattering against the windows filling his head like white noise.

“C-can we just go back to bed? I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He leaned forward away from Mike, to look at him over his shoulders. His lips were pulled into a frown and his eyes scanned over Will uneasily. Mike clearly wanted to know more, but he only sighed and said, “Yeah sure, of course.”

When they laid back down, his hold on Will felt tighter than usual, and Will could acutely feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back. Will’s eyes fluttered shut, liking the added weight of Mike’s palms against his chest. It comforted him, and made his troubled thoughts recede just a little. He was still wide awake, but at least he felt safe.

A couple minutes passed in silence, when Mike suddenly whispered “Hey,” his lips brushing against his ear. Will flinched a little in his hold, caught off guard. He thought Mike had dozed off already.

Mike’s voice was scratchy as he spoke, clearly in the process of drifting off to dreamland. “I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, and that’s okay. But just remember, I’ll always be here if you ever want to talk okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’re a team, yeah?”

The last of Mike’s words drifted and faded out like a ripple stretching into a vast ocean. With a sleepy kiss placed onto the back of Will’s shoulders, Mike’s arms relaxed around him and he nuzzled into Will’s neck, before sleep at last seemed to overtake him entirely.

Will blinked in the dark a few more times, his boyfriend’s soft words ringing through his head.

“But what if telling you makes you love me less?” he whispered into the darkness.

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#byler #byler big bang #byler fanart #byler fanfiction #teal streaked ribbons #masterpost #bbb23