#angsty drabble

[niennawept]

Trick!

Hi - uhm - please allow me to remind you that you asked for this. I am sorry in advance.

A perfect drabble set toward the beginning of Adar's life (100 words)

One minute. That was all he got. In the ever-present shadow of Utumno, in the very depths of the earth, he was allowed one minute to hold the newest of his children before they were ripped from his arms until they were older. He couldn’t help the tears that misted his eyes but he breathed deep through his nose, memorizing their scent. Trying to hold onto it—the imprint of his child while they were still untouched by this malicious place. “Come on, Adar,” the minder said, voice filled with cruel glee. “Your time’s up.” It always ended too soon.

I'm not crying, you're crying (also, Adar is crying)

[simp-thingz]

Nobody lives forever. Nor did you ever intend to, no matter what anybody did to try and convince you to accept the extended life span you simply couldn’t. Immortality seemed to be such a cold and lonely thing. The brothers begged and the angels pleaded with you to do it for them not understanding any of the downsides that came with immortality. So when you lose your life at the hands of a jealous succubus everybody is distraught. There was nothing they could do, nothing you would let them do to help you. All they could do was make sure you were comfortable as the demon's magic slowly and painfully ate at your body from the inside out, shutting it down with extreme agony they were sure but you never showed it. Never let them see the pain as you coughed up blood, and definitely didn’t let them see the way fear crept into your eyes at the thought of leaving them all behind in such a painful way. 

But there was nothing they could do. No amount of anguish or rage would fix this and when the time came to say goodbye nobody could bear to show up. Nobody could bear to watch the  life fade from your eyes and you died alone. Alone, and in pain, but understanding nonetheless, the same way you’d always been. You had no regrets though, you never wanted them to witness your quick deterioration for you knew where you’d end up when all of this was over.

[parkers-gal]

take me home J.B.

pairing: husband!bucky barnes x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

trope: secret wife / secret relationship

warnings: not proof read. rip. i'll edit the mistakes tmr lol. this is another self indulgent piece bye

timeline: idk this is not a canon event but just imagine endgame never happened. i like to imagine him with the metal arm (not the vibranium one) but i think this can be seen with any

summary: the team discovers bucky's relationship with you when bucky searches for you in the hospital after hydra attacks new york

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“we just got the last of them on the east side. does anyone need backup?” natasha’s voice rings through the comms. tony’s response comes within a few seconds.

“air is neutral up here.”

“we’re just about wrapping up here,” steve adds on. “let’s reconvene on fifth and check in with emergency services.” he glances at bucky who stands on his left, stoically waiting for the next command. bucky nods at steve’s silent question, you ready?

they step over a pile of rubble. bucky reloads his gun, placing it back in its holster and starting a light jog as steve leads them away from the scene behind them. hydra had sent many reinforcements after the team had done a recon mission at an abandoned hydra base that was unknowingly more important to them than the avengers had initially realized. new york came to bear the consequences, just as the city always did. something about high populated cities… or whatever steve told the team as they were gearing up a few hours ago.

they turn the next few blocks and see sam land beside wanda and clint, his wings collapsing into his jet-backpack. tony joins them, already starting his updates.

“nypd called in the national guard to detain as many of the human reinforcements as they could,” he fiddles with some tech on his arm. “emt said graybar, seagram, and chanin had some pretty heavy bombings. victims are being relo-”

“chanin?” bucky cuts in. most of his teammates look at him with shocked faces. “did you say the chanin building?”

“yes, tinman.” tony retorts. “victims are being relocated to the closest hospitals in the area.”

“which ones?”

slightly annoyed, tony turns to look at him. “does it matter?”

bucky’s jaw clenches. “yes. it does.”

sam cuts in.“there’s five hospitals within a mile of here, there’s no way you’re going to know where one person went, bucky.”

“i don’t give a fuck.” he’s definitive and it shuts everyone up. “i want to know which hospitals.”

with a sigh, steve concedes and jogs over to the paramedic perched on the end of an ambulance, assisting a woman with a cut on her eyebrow.

bucky decides to make his way over too, only hearing the tail end of the conversation as steve says ‘thank you.’

“well?”

steve sighs again. “he said lagone is the closest, but frank ross hospital and tisch are taking in some too because the influx is so bad.”

bucky doesn’t even reply, jogging off in the direction of the first hospital and leaving steve in the middle of the road, stunned.

clint breaks the silence. “where is he going?”

“to the hospital, i guess?” steve sounds unsure in his response, still watching as bucky gets smaller and smaller as the distance between them increases. 

“maybe we should go with him.” wanda suggests. “we still need to debrief and do our write ups.”

natasha gives her a side eye and wanda laughs. 

“just following orders.” she exaggerates, teasing natasha and steve for their insistence on following the protocols. 

“alright let’s go, then.” tony thrusts upward, sam following him up as everyone else begins to jog in bucky’s direction.

but bucky is fast. they don’t realize how much until they almost lose him two blocks over. they trail behind him as he bursts through the emergency room, charging towards the front desk. 

“do you have a patient named y/n?” he begins to spell out your name letter by letter until the desk attendant interrupts.

“sir, i need you to step into the waiting room unless you need immediate medical care.” the room around them is a flurry of crying people, overwhelmed nurses, and helpless policeman who try to reorganize the growing number of patients. 

“no, i need you to check if you have a patient under the name of y/-”

the team stands by the entrance, watching the interaction unfold but not quite understanding it.

“who is he looking for?”

everyone turns to steve assuming he knows, but his face shows just as much confusion. “i don’t know.”

“please,” bucky starts again. “do you have a patient register for today’s patients?”

with a click of her tongue, she hands bucky a clipboard with several papers on it. bucky’s eyes scan the names, worry etched on his face when he doesn’t see yours. 

“sorry.” he mumbles, leaving the clipboard on the counter and turning around. he stops when he sees the team, but moves past them when he remembers what he’s doing.

anxiety is gnawing at him as he finds his motorcycle parked by the quinjet a few blocks away. he immediately drives off towards the next hospital, worried as ever that something has happened to you. you aren’t answering his calls, not texting him back, and he can’t find your location on the little app you taught him how to use. he doesn’t know what else to do. 

the team can barely keep up, trying their best to help the people around them as they trail after bucky. they still don’t know what he’s doing or who he’s looking for. 

by the third hospital, bucky is fed up and on the verge of a breakdown. he only has so much patience at this point, and sam is all too familiar with the signs.

“do you have a patient under the name y/n?” it’s the third time in the last hour he’s desperately asked a nurse at a front desk. he does the same thing, spelling out your name letter by letter until the nurse interrupts him. 

“you’ll have to wait to check the registry list after all the patients have been attended to.”

“how long is that going to take?” his voice is laced with attitude, and he almost feels bad if not for the pit of anxiety swelling in his stomach. 

“sir, you’re wasting my time.”

“bucky, c’mon, let’s go.” steve reaches to hold bucky’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

“no, goddammit!” he’s fuming, turning back to the nurse. “i need you to tell me if you have a patient, y/n barnes. i’m her next of kin.” he slams his fist on the counter. steve takes a step back towards sam, in shock at the information.

“does he have, like, a niece?” sam asks. “did he tell you anything about his sister? maybe she had a family after-”

“yes, i see her name listed here. only immediate family can see her.”

“i am immediate family!”

“sir, unless you are a parent or her husband, you need to wait until all th-”

“i am her husband!” he slams his ring down on the counter, gripping onto it like he depends on it, because he can’t risk losing you. “take me to see me wife right now.”

with a nod, she leads bucky down a hallway of rooms, turning left into the very first room. she makes her way back towards the front desk where steve has now approached.

“hi, ma’am. would you mind if-” steve gestures towards the room. the nurse’s jaw drops at seeing the vibranium shield, clint’s bow, and tony stark standing there with a partially deconstructed nano-tech suit. 

“go right ahead.” she stutters out, watching the avengers trail after the man with the metal arm. they stop in the doorway, huddled as they watch.

“y/n?” bucky steps towards the hospital bed.

you aren’t even laying in it. you’re sitting on the edge of it staring out a window, back facing the door. at the sound of his voice, you whip around. tear streaks stain your face.

“bucky, oh my god-” you run into his chest, engulfing him in a hug. he sighs into your hair, smelling you and breathing in relief at the sight.

“you’re okay, it’s okay.” he coos, rubbing your back. “what happened? are you hurt?”

you shake your head, still nuzzled into his chest. you peer up at him, “paramedics found me unconscious. it’s just a concussion, but they brought me in anyways. i just have a couple stitches.” you gesture to your calf. “rough fall after i got knocked out, i guess.”

he nods, pulling you in for a kiss. it’s desperate and full of love and every emotion he’d felt in the last two hours.

“i thought- i thou-”

“no.” you cut him off. “i tried to find a phone but nothing was going through. i saw the weird alien dogs coming from a giant truck, and- and the hydra symbol was plastered all along the sides i thought maybe they-” you can’t even finish your sentence, too overwhelmed at the possibility. 

“never.” he kisses your forehead, holding your face in both his hands. “they could never take me from you.”

you rest your forehead against his, inhaling the scent of your husband and gripping onto him because you never want to leave him again. 

“so..” tony cuts in. “wife?”

“tony!” natasha scolds. “get back here!”

clint tries his best not to laugh but he can barely hold it in.

sam is next to join in. “when did this happen?” he looks at steve with a quirked brow. “did you know?”

“i swear i didn’t.”

“a wife.” sam repeats. “you didn’t know your best friend has a wife.”

“he’s a trained spy!”

“and a former soviet asset.” clint confers. “you’d think you would keep more tabs on the guy.”

steve rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to bucky.

“is she really your wife?”

bucky nods reluctantly, a little sheepish as you hold up your left hand to show them your rings. 

“for four years now.”

“FOUR YEARS????” 

“sam-” 

“and you NEVER SAID ANYTHING?”

“guys” nat pays no mind to sam’s ramblings. “i think we can all agree how hard it is to live life as an avenger. it’s not like clint was exactly honest about his family, either.”

“i thought you were on my side!” he huffs.

“whatever.” sam pouts. “i wish i could’ve gone to the wedding.”

“we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” bucky smiles appreciatively at steve, who starts moving back towards the exit. “maybe we can talk about this when everything settles down and she gets out of the hospital.” steve looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time. deep down, he’s glad his best friend found the one thing he’s wanted his whole life. “right bucky?”

bucky nods. 

“okay,” steve smiles understandingly. “debrief is tomorrow at noon. don’t be late.”

bucky turns back to you as the team leaves your hospital room. 

“i guess the secrets out.”

bucky nods in agreement. “i’m really glad you’re okay.”

you kiss him again, “take me home, bucky.”

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bucky masterlist

part two?

[urfriendlywriter]

Angsty Prompts

(feel free to use, tag me when yall write!!! mwah xoxo)

"You're okay, look at me--yes, my love, you're okay. I'm here now."

tight hugs, their hands cradling you and your heart close to theirs.

Their heart shattering with every ragged breath u take and every sob that escapes your lips

"Do u know.. it's incredibly brave of you to.." They pause, gently rubbing the tears stains off your cheeks, "Be vulnerable with me? It's my honor, to protect you, and be a safe place for you."

being hospitalized, and waking up to find them curled at the foot of your bed, holding onto ur hand.

Voice breaking as they whisper, their hand tightening around yours, "I-I thought I lost you.."

pressing your lips their forehead, as they break apart in your arms, clinging onto you. eyes full of pain, tears and rare vulnerability that bares open their entire being to you

^ caressing their face, unable to know what to say or do but whispering, "Let me hold you through this all. It's okay to cry, my love.." and they completely shatter.

Them curling up into ur chest, needing comfort, security and strength

"I'm so sorry--" "No, no, no. You did ur best, my soul, i---i am the one sorry."

[kruegerspillow]

childhood friend! reader who'd been (coincidentally) assigned to the same task force as simon after months of no contact. he didn't believe that it was you before connecting the dots. you talk the same, smell the same and behave the same from years ago.

childhood friend! reader who makes the same jokes around simon and helps make him feel... alive.

childhood friend! reader who's the only person that's allowed to be touchy feely around simon.

childhood friend! reader who tries very hard to keep the banter between them and simon alive, though, failing miserably when they nearly shot simon after he sneaked up behind them.

childhood friend! reader who realized that simon didn't have anyone to tap him out, so, being the nice friend they are, they tapped simon out with a smile on their face.

childhood friend! reader who doesn't notice the way simon's gaze lingers around their figure, taking in every curve and edges with a piercing gaze.

childhood friend! reader who flirts with random guys every time they get tipsy— while simon watches from the corner of the room— knowing that he won't be able to do anything about it.

childhood friend! reader who doesn't notice the way simon's behaviour shifts everytime they get close with other blokes. he's no longer relaxed, his brows furrowed and muscles tensing. your drunken giggle made his stomach flip, becoming nothing but a painful reminder of what he couldn't have.

childhood friend! reader who gets driven home by simon after finishing their drinks. his grip on the steering wheel was tight, his thoughts a tangled mess, fixating on the bitter truth that you were never his.

childhood friend! reader who thinks that everything simon does for them is casual, when it is, in fact, not-so-casual. after all, that desperate kiss you gave him before he left for the military was not-so-casual too, wasn't it?

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[steddie-lyfalling]

Steve Harrington knew what he was, he'd known for a little while now, he knew it simply and eloquently. Steve Harrington was, is, always will be, a placeholder.

Placeholder friend, placeholder son, placeholder boyfriend, placeholder brother, placeholder king. He existed for one reason, to be everything for someone, everything they needed. And, for a time, to feel that love and that everything in return. There until someone is more. More than he could ever be, more than needed. Wanted.

Nancy Wheeler had needed him for a while, a charming boyfriend who boosted her social status. She had needed someone to talk to, someone nice to look at, someone loyal with a good easy future ahead of him. But she wanted someone who would talk back, who was booksmart like her, who was interesting as well as interested. So she found that someone and walked away.

Dustin Henderson needed a big brother, some help with the "fairer sex" (Dustin's words), hair care tips and, along with the whole group of young little misfits, someone physically strong, broad and tall to protect them from monsters. Steve can already see this one waining, the wants outweighing the needs, who would want a bitchy older brother when you could have one who connects to your world, who plays your games, someone aloof and nerdy, dark and goofy, smart and funny. Someone better.

Even his parents had needed a child to carry their name and their status, but wanted a freedom he couldn't provide. Wanted a pride they could not find in him.

Robin will be the next to go, that one will hurt the most, she's basically a whole half of his own soul at this point, a full part of him. She's his everything. But college will be a whole new world, one where Steve's quips won't hold weight amongst Robin's new intellectual friends, where Steve's questioning nature about himself and his own sexuality won't hold a candle to the actual queer culture she's sure to find herself diving into. At least she'll call, she's too good, to perfect of a person, she'll stop needing him but she'll know he can't stop wanting her, so she'll call.

The thing is, it's all well and good figuring out your place in the world, how you fit around other people's lives. But it still hurts. It always hurts. It will never not hurt. Because hope, hope is a terrible thing, a thing that covers you in twisted vines until you can't see beyond the beautiful green of it, so when it's brutally stripped away darkness floods your vision and you cannot deny the loss. Hope hides the poison of loneliness, so, when it is pulled away, it's sweetness gone, it highlights the bitter poison left in its wake.

Thankfully, now he knows what to expect, he can prune and manage that hope, keep the green from obscuring his vision, keep the saccharine sweetness from disguising the poison. Leaving only a small tinge of green in the corner of his eye, and the bittersweet taste of liquorice on his lips. Of course the poison still burns his throat and eats away at his vital organs, but now he can see it being administered. Now he can't fall as far backwards.

The Eddie Munson of it all seems to have other ideas. Ever since meeting Eddie, properly meeting Eddie, and knowing Eddie, properly knowing Eddie, all Steve has seen is bright leafy green.

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Fluffy Jackson!Joel, age gap mentioned but not specified, angsty Joel thinking he doesn't deserve you I'm gonna vom I'm so emotional about Joel Miller this morning. Yeah it’s a little corny idc. Lightly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Slim Pickins

You never cared much for the boys in Jackson.

It wasn’t that they were all bad—not really. Some were decent enough, kind in that overeager way that made it clear they wanted to be seen as something more than just survivors. The younger ones, the ones your age, all had something to prove. Like they thought the end of the world meant they had to carve out their place in it with their fists, their bravado, their talk of patrols and takedown counts.

You weren’t interested.

You wanted someone steady. Someone who didn’t feel the need to boast, who didn’t make survival a contest, who wasn’t fumbling to figure out who they were even after all these years.

And that’s why your eyes always found Joel Miller.

He never tried to be charming. Never played the fool. Never talked just to hear himself speak. Matter of fact, you hardly heard him speak at all unless Ellie or Tommy were around. In any other conversation you managed to overhear, he was polite but always a man of few words. 

He was older, rough around the edges, sharp where others were soft. He was the kind of man who knew how to build things, how to keep them standing. You admired that. Admired the way his hands were always busy, fixing things, sharpening knives, reinforcing weak spots in the town’s defenses. Admired the way he looked after Ellie without making a show of it, the way he always sat with his back to a wall, eyes scanning like he could predict trouble before it came knocking.

The only problem was getting him to see what had been so obvious to you from the start.

Joel had been stubborn.

The first time you flirted with him—really flirted—he’d just blinked at you, like he thought he misheard. The second time, he’d scoffed, muttered something about "findin’ someone your own damn age." The third time… Well, that one had been his mistake.

Because you’d caught him looking.

It was just a flicker, just a second. But it was real. You’d seen it in the way his eyes lingered, the way his jaw tensed like he was biting down a thought he didn’t want to have. That was when you knew.

It was only a matter of time.

And now—now he was here.

Warm and solid beneath you, his arm heavy around your waist, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your bare skin. The room smelled like both of you, like sweat and shared warmth and something slow-burning, something that had taken its time getting here. You were tangled up in each other, bare bodies draped together in the low morning light, catching your breath as the quiet hum of Jackson began to wake up just beyond the window.

“Tell me somethin’,” he muttered.

“Anything,” you murmured, your lips pressing gently into the warmth of his neck.

He sighed, the sound more exasperated than anything, his head turning on the pillow to look at you. His big eyes were so full of tenderness, but something flickered in them—a hesitation, a question he’d been holding onto longer than he wanted to admit.

“Why me?”

You stared at him for a long moment before a smirk twitched on your lips, and you ran your fingers through his graying curls, watching the way his eyes fluttered at the feeling.

“Haven’t you heard?” you teased, voice laced with playfulness, “It’s the end of the world, Mr. Miller. It’s slim pickin’s around here.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, rolling his eyes like he wasn’t gonna let you get away with that answer.

But before he could grumble something about being an old man, you slid your hand down, fingers trailing over his chest, slow and sure, until you could feel the steady thump-thump of his heart beneath your palm.

"Good thing," you murmured, voice softer now, "you’re exactly the man I want."

Joel exhaled, long and slow.

And maybe, maybe that should have been enough to satisfy him.

But it wasn’t.

Because you knew he had lived too many years and lost too many things to believe in easy answers. He had spent too much time walking through hell to believe he had come out on the other side deserving of this.

His fingers curled against your hip, like he was testing it. The weight of you against him, the warmth of you in his bed. Maybe still half-convinced that this was something he’d wake up from.

You sighed, nudging your nose against his jaw. “Joel.”

He hummed, but it was barely a sound, like he didn’t quite trust himself to speak.

So you tried again. Softer this time. “Do you really think I would ever want anyone else?”

He didn’t answer.

You traced your fingers along his chest, slow and thoughtful, your mind drifting somewhere neither of you had ever dared to go before.

“I wonder sometimes,” you admitted, “what it would’ve been like. If we’d met before.”

Joel hesitated, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, eyes scanning your face. 

You let the thought settle between you, warm and quiet.

“Think about it,” you mused, your voice dipping into something thoughtful, something wistful. “Would we have even met? In a normal world?”

You could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. A life that could have been. A life that was gone before either of you had a chance to claim it.

“I was just a kid in Texas when everything happened,” you murmured. “Would’ve grown up, maybe gone to college, gotten some easy job that didn’t mean anything. You would’ve still been…” you swallowed, “you.”

A father. Maybe a husband at some point. A man with a life already built.

“Maybe I would’ve walked past you somewhere,” you continued. “At a store. A gas station. Maybe you would’ve held a door open for me, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”

Joel’s fingers tightened against you like he was grounding himself in this moment. His voice was steady when he spoke. No hesitation, no doubt.

“I would’ve noticed you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, breath caught in your throat as your hand slid higher, up to the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Would you?”

Joel exhaled softly, leaning into your touch without thinking, his eyes tracing over your face like he was memorizing every piece of you.

“‘Course I would’ve,” he murmured. “Doesn’t matter when or where. Could’ve been another life, another world—" his thumb stroked absently along your waist, voice dipping into something quiet, something certain—"I still would’ve found you.”

The words settled into you, warm and heavy, threading through your ribs, curling tight around your heart.

Then, suddenly, he was smiling—just a little—as his hand came up to your face, cupping your jaw, his thumb sweeping along your cheek.

“Maybe in a normal world, I’d be the one pesterin’ you instead of the other way around.”

You laughed, tilting your chin up as you leaned closer. “I only ‘pestered’ ‘cause you’re too damn stubborn.”

Joel huffed softly, shaking his head like you were trouble, like you’d gotten under his skin in a way he’d never be able to shake.

But he pulled you closer, his fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your face up just enough. His gaze flickered over you—your eyes, your lips—like he was taking his time, like he wanted to make sure you were committed to his memory.

And then he kissed you, slow and deep, breathing you in. Like a promise. Like an answer to a question neither of you had to ask.

His hand moved to the back of your head, lacing into your hair, the other tracing a slow path down your spine, pulling you against him until there was no space left between you. You sighed into him, melting, your fingers tangling into his hair as he deepened the kiss, as he drank you in like you were something precious, something he never wanted to lose.

When you finally parted, just barely, your forehead resting against his, his breath was warm against your lips.

“See?” you murmured, softer this time, “Slim pickin’s or not, I still would’ve found my way to you, Joel Miller.”

He exhaled, low and content, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them—

“I know.”

And this time, he did believe you.

[dykeriver]

thinking about ellie coming across an old adult store as she hikes just outside an abandoned quarantine zone. curiosity wins, because of course it does, and she needs to look. just a peep, only for a moment. but a peep turns into scavenging, and scavenging soon turns into successfully finding a little sealed package in a box in the back of the store.

she knows what it is, she’s a grown woman, but obviously there’s never really been the time or place during her adult life to have been able to explore that particular aspect of herself so… intensely. ellie stares at the box for a second before deciding, fuck it. she rips off the top of the package and flips it upside down, shaking it. the… toy falls onto the table in front of her followed by a little instruction manual. she knows what to do in theory but she grabs at the instructions anyway, bending them a bit as she skims quickly. shut it — she’s just a bit eager, okay?

so she… and then she… nice. and she’s lucky, because this one doesn’t call for batteries. ellie just hopes that the power will have held up for all these years.

she secures the store and makes herself comfortable relatively fast, throwing one of her extra flannels onto the ground before pulling her jeans to her ankles and taking a seat on top of her shirt. she’s a little intimidated, so she doesn’t strip out of her boxers. ellie holds the button in for about five seconds before it vibrates to life, a gentle thrum sounding alongside her breathing in the otherwise empty store.

she just stares at it for a moment before braving the whole… opening her legs thing. don’t get ellie wrong — she’s touched herself before. hell, she’s even had sex a few times. but a vibrator is a whole new ball field. it thrums against her hand and it actually tickles a little bit. the lithe muscles of ellie’s thigh flex as she opens her legs, and she takes a deep, soothing breath. finally she brings down her hand, and…

what. the. fuck.

the vibrator buzzes against her clit gently and she gasps, the feeling immediately too much. ellie almost pulls it away, not knowing if she wants to press into or away from it. she rests her back against the floor, because she needs to fucking lay down for this shit. “hhh…” she breathes quietly.

ellie accidentally hits the button again, and she fucking gasps. the toy is humming louder, vibrating harder. “ha-” she moans before she can shut herself up. she knows she must be making an absolute mess of her boxers, can feel herself soaking right through the thin material. it feels fucking good, so incredibly overwhelming that her free hand keeps clenching uselessly against the ground. ellie brings it to the flannel underneath her, needing something to latch onto for support.

and oh, how ellie feels is unlike anything she’s ever felt before. a fire grows low in her belly, intense, building heat rapidly. the heat spreads all throughout her body and her toes curl in her sneakers. she chokes over a half held back whine. the feeling burns and burns until ellie thinks she’s going to fucking melt.

when she cums, she throws her hand over her mouth, sobbing into it. her orgasm is more intense than she ever could have expected; she feels it in her fingers, in her legs. in her fucking bones, man. she’s trembling everywhere, shaking like a leaf as it’s swept through the wind. ellie’s head knocks against the ground in overexertion, she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it up.

when she comes down from that high, ellie just kind of… lays there a second. because, yanno. best orgasm of her life just achieved. she inhales deeply and then blows out a gust of air, chest deflating. eventually she’s got to get back on her feet, pulling her jeans back up and picking the flannel off of the floor before chugging some much needed water.

and ellie thinks she does a pretty good job at ignoring the weird, hollow, lonely feeling that grips her chest as she leaves the store: hiking into the unknown. alone.

[angelkiyo]

✧˖°— the music was too loud and the lights were too dim. the alcohol burned going down—but not nearly as much as the way tobio kageyama looked at you that night. it burned like salt added to a wound.

it happened after a game. celebration after the last win of the season. as the assistant manager of the schweiden adlers, of course you were invited. however, somewhere between the rooftop bar and the suite, between shots and laughter, he kissed you.

no, that bastard didn’t just kiss you—

he held your face like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

that was the main catalyst to your current situation; sitting on top of the bone porcelain sink and practically hanging onto the star setter for dear life. you felt your body shake in every thrust, his cock sliding easily in and out of you from your slick. the mirror behind you fogged up and the things on the sink itself were on the floor in an act of pure restlessness.

you pressed your forehead to his and whispered, “this isn’t a mistake, right?”— but it was. an assistant manager and the star player? the damn tabloids would have a field day.

tobio let out a primal, low grunt, vocal fry and breathlessness laced in his whispered words. “no, i’ve wanted this for so long.”

the stolen touches, quick glances across the room, prolong stares before he hits a perfect serve. now here you were, skin to skin in the most literal sense.

your body was pulled towards his own, perky breasts pushed up against his toned chest and face hid in the crook of his neck. you felt tobio hold you tightly as your body slightly bounced with the same vigor as his thrusts. his thrusts became languid and you felt his veiny cock twitch inside you.

“s-shit tobio!” you gasped. you looked at his face; his cheeks all flushed, eyes hooded, and his hair a mess. a small part of your chest tightened at the sight, so vulnerable and so abnormal. tobio kageyama, who was usually out together, all unraveled before you.

which is why you knew this would be the only time you’d be like this, as you were back to strangers the next day.

[ve1vet-cake]

"You.. remembered?"

It had been a day like any other. Ren had made breakfast for Angel and himself, humming to himself. The rhythm of domiciliary that Angel and him had grown accustomed to was akin to that of their hearts, seemingly beating in unison.

They couldn’t be happier, slender fingers delicately handling the kitchenware. 

Angel was his 

Just the thought made the man’s insides tingle and pleasantly twist, the excitement quickly spreading onto his lips, stretching them into a soft grin. For the first time since meeting the love of his life he felt happy. Loved. 

He was plating the food and setting the table, ready for the day and for them. He carefully made his way to the bedroom, intending to wake Angel when he already saw them sat up, staring at their knees.

Their body was still halfway covered by the soft blanket, a shirt of his loosely hanging off their frame.

“REDACTED”

The name fell from their lips faster than Ren could greet them.

And with that one word his world seemed to shatter.

A part.. A fraction.. Of him was delighted, stomach churning in pleasant surprise.. but it was short lived. The twists and tightening quickly turned into dread.

Why now!?

Why that god forsaken name!?

…. Why couldn’t the illusion stay?

Ren contemplated restarting the day, to relive the idyll and prevent Angel from uttering that abomination of a-

“REDACTED”

The name flowed so innocently from Angel’s lips. So beautifully, so… Untainted. 

They peered up at him, a soft smile on their face. 

“It’s your name, right? Your actual name. REDACTED.”

Ren’s heart stuttered. The sight of them, so sweetly saying their name.. without any stigma. Any hatred. Any… Disgust.

“You… remember..?”

“I do.”

It had taken Angel to embrace him to stop the tears. To stop the shaking.

They hadn’t anticipated this reaction from Ren but nonetheless they wanted to comfort. To heal.

It had taken a lot to get Ren to open up. 

Why are you so uncomfortable?

Should I not call you that..? But.. why?

Can I make it better?

Angel listened patiently as Ren spoke. Not much, just the gist of his hatred.

“My father.”

They nodded, recalling the shared childhood the aftermath of abuse they had witnessed. While oblivious to the signs in their youth, Angel was now wiser and aware of just how broken Ren had been… And still was.

“You know..” 

They cupped his cheeks gently, making him look at them. Clear crystal blue peered at Angel. 

"im!mFun oelec?tCro phMre§$tica%lly ventrGicu§"lo cis="!tLrnost Po&%mies"

Their thumb gently caressed Ren’s cheek in soothing, light circles. Their voice had been barely above a whisper. Just for him to hear. Just for him to feel.

“And I will show you.. Just how beautiful you are.”

[hyruling]

beautiful wife. please write buddie + 50 FOR ME. or buddie + 32 if that’s what strikes the fancy

50. “I need more time.” & 32: “Keep your eyes on me.”

—

The house is dark when Eddie lets himself in.

It’s dusk, the sunlight slowly giving way to shadow, dust motes swirling through the faint light peeking in through the curtains. They’re drawn haphazardly, as though someone ripped them closed in a hurry, but the sun is still stubbornly poking through the edges. There’s no sound from the kitchen, no TV or music playing, no warmth anywhere to be found. He knows where Buck will be.

He’s on his side, back to the door when Eddie quietly steps into the bedroom. He tiptoes around the bed so he can see him, make his presence known. His heart breaks all over again when he sees the face he’s been missing like a limb for months.

Buck is asleep, his face contorted with grief even in rest. His hair is a tangled mess of curls, pillow creases line his cheeks, and there are dark circles painted under his eyes. He looks so small, curled up on the bed with one hand tucked under the pillow and the other curled tight around his stomach, like he’d fallen asleep trying to hold himself together with his own hands.

Tears prick at Eddie’s eyes. He’s managed to put his own grief to the side until he could get back here, pushing it down to something manageable until it coiled like a snake ready to lunge in his chest. He’d focused all his attention on logistics and plane tickets and packing; on helping Chris navigate his feelings and endless phone calls to the Buck and the 118 letting them know he was there, he was right there with them, even from eight-hundred miles away.

Buck, it seems, has had no such luxury - he’s been feeling it all, the razor sharp agony and mind numbing emptiness of it all with no buffer, and this is probably the first real rest he’s had in days.

Eddie toes off his shoes and makes quick work of digging out a pair of sweats from his duffel, trading them for his jeans. He climbs into the bed and tucks himself against Buck’s back, noses into the warmth of his neck with a sigh. Something settles in his veins at the feel of him, the familiar scent of his shampoo. Buck doesn’t stir, not even when Eddie’s arm wraps around his side and his hand slips into Buck’s, gently prying his clenched fingers apart and smoothing them over his stomach. And for the first time since Buck called him to break the news, Eddie lets the tears fall, silent and warm into the neck of Buck’s shirt.

By the time Buck wakes, night has fallen and sunk the room into darkness. Eddie had dozed off himself at some point but only managed thirty fitful minutes of sleep; he’s spent a good hour watching the shadows play on the wall, and listening to the thunderstorm rolling in from the east. Rain patters softly on the window while Buck stirs under his arm - he’s sure that’s what woke him in the first place. Buck hasn’t been able to sleep through a storm since the lightning strike.

He doesn’t seem to register Eddie’s presence at first. He twists in Eddie’s arms and blinks blearily at him for a few moments, uncomprehending. His face goes slack when his eyes clear and adjust to the dark.

“Eddie?” he asks, voice like gravel.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says softly. His hand rests on Buck’s waist, and he squeezes gently.

“Thought you weren’t coming in ‘til tomorrow,” Buck mumbles, sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

“Changed my flight,” Eddie explains, and leaves it at that.

“Chris?”

“He’ll be here in the morning, he understood that I needed to be here.” With you, he doesn’t say. “Adriana is flying with him.”

Buck nods, accepting his non-explanation easily. Buck looks down between their bodies, not quite pressed together but close enough that he can feel Buck’s breath puff against his cheek when it starts going shallow, when he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Eddie,” Buck rasps, wrecked in a way Eddie hasn’t heard in a long time, and that’s all he needs. Eddie pulls Buck into him just as he breaks, shuddering against Eddie’s collarbone. His hands twist in Eddie’s shirt as the sobs wrack through him, and Eddie presses his own tear stained cheek against Buck’s hair.

“Shhh,” Eddie soothes him softly, though he’s barely keeping it together himself. “I’m here, Buck, I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

“He’s - he’s gone.”

His voice scrapes Eddie raw, makes his breath hitch on a sob that he tries to hide by pulling Buck closer. “I know. I know, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He holds Buck through it, combing his fingers gently through the tangles in his hair and rubbing his back while Buck shakes and cries. He doesn’t know how long it takes - time has a funny way of stretching and slowing after death until it feels meaningless. The storm outside reaches a peak just as Buck does, thunder shaking the walls as violently as Buck’s shoulders. Eddie holds on, lets Buck take what he needs, an immovable rock in the eye of the storm. Eventually, Buck stops shaking. His breathing evens out and he goes limp in Eddie’s arms, sniffling occasionally into his collarbone.

Just when Eddie thinks he’s fallen back to sleep, Buck says, “Athena asked me to ring the bell.”

Eddie tightens his hold, closes his eyes against the onslaught of tears that threaten to reappear. “He would want that too,” Eddie says gently, but Buck shakes his head and pulls back to look at him.

Even in the dark Eddie can see his eyes are bloodshot, dark circles more pronounced against his red rimmed lash line. He’s beautiful even in grief, devastatingly so. His chest aches at the look on Buck’s face, the guilt and sorrow leaving their cruel marks.

“Eddie, I don’t - I don’t think I can,” Buck admits, squeezing his eyes shut against fresh tears. “It’s - I can-can barely admit he’s gone, I can’t - I n-need more time, I can’t-”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie soothes. He lifts a hand to Buck’s face, swiping away the tears with his thumb. “You can. We’re going to get through this. All of us, together. I’ll be right there with you, okay?”

“Eddie, I don’t - you don’t get it, it’s my fault, I should have-”

“No,” Eddie cuts him off. “None of this is your fault, Buck, don’t do that. You know he would tell you the exact same thing.”

“You weren’t there, you-you didn’t see, I could have stopped it, I-”

It cuts like a knife, the guilt that cracks through his ribs. Buck is right - he wasn’t there, he couldn’t help, couldn’t protect Bobby or Buck or anyone. He knows he was where he needed to be, knows no one blames him for his absence, but it still crushes him a little to hear the thoughts that have haunted him for days from Buck’s mouth.

Buck must see some of that on his face, because he shakes his head urgently and grasps at his shoulder. “No, Eddie, I didn’t mean - you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie pushes his hand gently back into Buck’s hair, smoothly gliding through the curls now. “I know, Buck. I know. But this is no one’s fault, okay? It was an accident, just like we deal with everyday.”

Buck shudders and closes his eyes. Eddie traces his fingers over his face, brushes his birthmark with his thumb. Touching him this way crosses the line he’d so firmly held for so many years, but he can’t stop himself now. Doesn’t want to, either. He thinks he needs it as much as Buck right now, the closeness, the comfort of another person’s touch. Buck is always so cold, colder now in grief, but he’s warming under Eddie’s hands.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Buck murmurs, eyes still closed. Eddie feels Buck’s hands move soothingly over his shoulder blades, has to swallow against the wave of emotion that tries to consume him.

“Nowhere else I’d be,” Eddie says, and presses his lips to Buck’s hair. He’s not sure Buck even notices.

They’re quiet again for long time. Long enough that the storm passes, leaves them suspended in the deadened aftermath, until Buck’s voice breaks the silence. “I don’t think I can do it, Eddie.”

Eddie leans back and meets Buck’s wide, terrified eyes. “No one will force you, Buck. Athena will understand if you say no, but I think - I think you’ll regret it, if you don’t.”

Buck looks at him for a long time, quietly contemplating his words. Eddie brushes a hand down his neck, feels his pulse racing against his fingertips.

“You’re right,” Buck says at last, so quiet Eddie almost doesn’t hear him. “I have to, I - for him. For - for Bobby.”

Eddie wonders if it’s the first time he’s said his name out loud since it happened, since he called Eddie and told him through splintering sobs.

“I’ll be right there the whole time,” Eddie promises, holding Buck’s face carefully with one hand. “You’re not alone, Buck. Just keep your eyes on me while you’re up there, if it’s too much.”

Buck nods, tears in his eyes again, and tucks his face in Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s shirt is damp by the time Buck has cried himself out, same as the pillow under Eddie’s cheek. He takes a peek at his watch and sees it’s barely 8:30, though it feels like it’s been hours since he first laid next to Buck.

“How long until you have to go back to El Paso?” Buck asks, and it shreds him to pieces.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I pulled Chris out of school for a week. But his spring break is the week after, so we-we have time.”

He doesn’t tell him that he’ll stay as long as Buck needs, though the words sit heavy as a boulder in his throat, aching to get out. He can’t promise that, even with everything in him screaming that he needs to stay. He can’t voice his suspicion that Chris might want to stay once he’s here, can’t tell him that he’s been hinting at wanting to move back for weeks. He can’t afford to give himself or Buck any false hope when they’re hanging on by a thread.

“Did you eat today?” Eddie asks quietly, changing the subject before he cracks.

Buck nods. “A little. Maddie and Chim brought lunch and stayed with me until they had to pick up Jee.”

“Why don’t I make us something?” Eddie says. “Maybe some soup, a sandwich if you can manage?”

Buck nods again, forehead knocking into Eddie’s chin. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Eddie gets up, expecting Buck to stay in bed while he makes the food, but Buck follows and all but plasters himself to Eddie’s back as he digs out two cans of chicken noodle soup and starts heating them on the stove. Eddie lets him, and leans back into Buck’s chest when he feels him hesitate to touch Eddie again. Buck rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder while the soup heats; Eddie sits him at the table while he makes the sandwiches and switches on the lamps, suffusing the room with soft light. He finds one of Buck’s hoodies and helps him shrug it on, because he’s still so cold, even with Eddie wrapping himself around him every spare moment.

They eat on the couch, Buck almost in Eddie’s lap with how closely he presses against him. Buck manages to finish his soup and eats most of the sandwich, which Eddie counts as a win.

He doesn’t know what tomorrow holds. Doesn’t know how Buck will handle the funeral proceedings, how he will handle them. He’s lived with grief for years, sees her now as an old friend that won’t give up the ghost and leave him be, and now he has another lining up to haunt him. Another person he failed, leaving him with so much love and memory and nowhere to put it, waiting for the day it overflows and chokes him.

What he does know is that he has Buck - he has his son, and his family. That the love he has for the man pressed against his shoulder will still be there in the morning and for the rest of his life. That as long as there is breath in his body he won’t let Buck disappear, that none of them will. That tomorrow he will celebrate Bobby’s life and mourn with those who loved him best, that they will heal together.

Buck’s head falls heavily on his shoulder, and he knows they will be okay.

——

prompts ❤️

[simp-thingz]

This was the second week in a row. Dinner’s gone cold again and your husband was nowhere to be found. Again. At first he’d call, text, something to let you know he was alright and that he’d probably be late. But now, it was like you were living with a stranger. The photos on the wall seem duller as time goes by. Your once happy and thriving marriage is damaged by the distance between you and your beloved Shoto. The late hours caused you both irritation as you sat up waiting for him most nights so you stopped. Being well rested allowed you to remain smiling as your split haired husband spat venom at you for one thing or another that was bothering him. His lunch got cold at work? You should’ve packed it hotter. Trip over one of his giant work boots? You should’ve put them away. At this point you think you should’ve left before it got to this point, your wrist burning as he grips it not letting you remove yourself from the conflict. His face was cold as he scolded you for dropping a plate after he’d snuck back into the house. It always felt like walking on eggshells around your once soft and caring husband who no longer seemed to linger. It’s not until he comes home to a near empty house and divorce papers on the table does he realize everything he should’ve done differently. 

But it was too late and you were gone.

[parkers-gal]

I love your writing! May I request more mob!bucky, please?

this is kinda trash but it's a cute drabble, i hope u like it! :)

the work hug J.B.

summary: mob!bucky saves you from someone bothering you

warnings: brief harassment and mentions of unwanted sexual attention, bucky being protective, f!reader

wc: 1.3k

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

you’d taken the job because of the sign on bonus. you’d heard through the grapevine of mutual friends of a job offering high pay and immediate compensation. when the money hit your account, you didn’t bother asking questions. 

maybe that was a mistake because now, you’re getting pressed up against the wall by a man nearly twice your age. he’s trapped you, and normally there are bodyguards all over the place but you can’t seem to find where they’ve all gone off to.

“please… leave me alone.” your voice comes out smaller than you wanted it to, but after repeatedly telling the man to stop harassing you, he only grew more determined to get what he was after. 

“c’mon, pretty girl. just give me a taste.” 

trying to squeeze past him, you drag yourself along the wall, but he comes with you. you’ve shifted to the right about 6 feet, a round piece of metal lodging itself into the small of your back before the wall gives out and you go tumbling backwards.

you had hit the doorknob of a door that was too easy to open. falling to the floor with a thud, you wince, leaning up on your hands only to be met with a room full of eyes all on you. your jaw drops, embarrassment flooding through you.

“what the fuck?”

you whip your head towards the end of the conference table where the voice came from. seated is a man with an arm of metal, glinting underneath a dress shirt rolled to his elbows. your boss. you scramble to get up, flustered and completely ashamed. the man with the metal arm makes his way towards you.

“what is going on?”

his voice is demanding and you try not to flinch.

“i’m- i’m sorry, sir. i swear i didn’t mean to barge in here, he was pushing me up against the door and i didn’t know where i was going an- and- and-” you’re on the verge of tears.

“get the fuck out.”

one slips down your cheek. then another. you’re trying not to sob.

as you’re about to comply, a hand reaches for your wrist. 

“rumlow. leave.”

opening your eyes in shock, you watch as the man leaves his spot from the doorway. with a nod from bucky, a guard follows him out.

“are you okay?” his voice is softer now and his eyes finally settle on you. 

he notes the tear streaks and wordlessly slips out of the room, leaving behind the men at his table.

“but sir, your meeting-”

he shushes you, pushing open the door to another room down the hallway. a mahogany desk sits comfortably in the middle of the room, bookshelves lining the walls. a set of matching armchairs are resting by the unlit fireplace.

“sit.” 

you comply, feeling the warmth from his body leave your back. he goes off to the side of the room, coming back with a glass of water.

you take a feeble sip, keeping your head down.

“are you okay?”

“i’m sorry.” “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” he kneels in front of you, fingers lifting your chin to look at him. “are you okay?”

you nod. “yeah. i just… i was looking for you or one of the bodyguard-men-guys. they’re always around and when couldn’t i find one i got really scared and started to panic and…” you ramble and bucky tsks, his hand dropping to your knee to rub soothing circles. 

“i’ll make sure to always have security for you.”

you look at him, his eyes holding something else in them. 

“you don’t have to.”

“i oughta kill him for laying a hand on you.”

your jaw drops. “you- what?”

“he knows better than to fuck around at my business.”

you don’t respond, dwelling on his words.

“you can take the rest of the day off.” he stands, twirling a silver ring around a finger on his right hand. “i’ll have steve take you home.”

“but, i-” 

bucky’s hand waves around, cutting you off, a light hum leaving his throat.

“but, sir-”

“what is it?” he turns back to you.

“i don’t… i don’t want to leave.” you admit, holding yourself with your arms and trying to make yourself smaller.

he frowns, bending down again to be eye level with you. “but i need to take care of rumlow, sweets. he needs to learn not to fuck around with me.”

this time, you frown too, staring at your knee in defeat. 

your voice is small again, already ashamed at the words that are about to leave your mouth. “i don’t want to be alone.”

he tsks again and you can tell he’s mentally debating what to do next. 

“can you give me fifteen minutes?”

“okay.” you try to smile but it’s not very convincing. “i’m sorry.”

“nothing to be sorry for.” he stands, softly rubbing your shoulder before making his way to the door. standing in the threshold, he beckons someone over but your chair faces away from the door so you don’t see who he interacts with. after some shuffling, a blonde-haired man hands you a blanket. you recognize him – steve – but you’ve yet to be introduced. 

he sits in the other arm chair opposite you, offering a delicate smile and grabbing a remote to light the fireplace.

“he won’t be long.”

you nod, unsure what else to say. you wrap yourself in the blanket and stare off into the flames, dancing away in the soot-covered hollow. you hadn’t realized how cold you were. 

the door behind you opens and you recognize bucky by the sound of his shoes. 

“thank you steve, you can go.” he dismisses him, grabbing a fluffy rag and taking the seat steve just had.

bucky’s knuckles are already bruising, and he’s wiping off the remnants of some blood.

“did you… hurt him?”

a spark of remorse flickers across his face but then he clicks his jaw and sits up a little straighter. 

“i had to.”

“because he bothered me?”

“yes.” he doesn’t snap, but he’s so confident in his response that it makes you wary to ask anything else.

“but you barely know me.”

at this, he shrugs. 

“i hired you, didn’t i?” he chuckles. 

“yeah but… still. i didn’t even meet you until today.”

he fiddles with his ring again. “alright then, sweets.” he carelessly puts the rag down on the table beside him. “why don’t i get to know you, then?” he muses at you, awaiting your response.

“oh.” 

a deep chuckle leaves his throat.

“since you don’t want to be alone.”

you sit there in shock, still silent. he picks up a book, opening to the page with the bookmark placed neatly inside.

without glancing up, he speaks again, teasingly. “or is that not what you want?” his eyes soften when he sees you nervously bite your lip.

“can i have a hug?”

his shoulders slump like you’ve melted him. he thinks you’re so adorably innocent. 

“i don’t know if i’m any good at those.”

you tilt your head at him, a smile forming. “you’re still human, even after becoming a mob boss.”

he smirks, “a mob boss, huh?”

your eyes widen, regret coursing through you. “i didn’t mean-!”

you stop speaking when he stands up, opening his arms and beckoning you to embrace him. slowly, you abandon the blanket and snake your arms around his waist, successfully nuzzling into the crook of his neck and exhaling. 

“i haven’t done this in a long time.”

“what? hug?” 

his chest rumbles in a gentle laugh. “yeah.” 

letting out a big breath, you squeeze his middle like you’re trying to pull him closer. “well i think you’re doing great.” 

bucky squeezes you back and as you inhale the scent of him, you realize he smells like something you want to call home. afraid of what you started, the fit of butterflies in your stomach erupts and after tonight, you know you’ve started something you can’t ignore. but maybe… bucky feels it too. 

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky masterlist

[urfriendlywriter]

20 "we are each other's safe place" romance prompts:

(feeling emo now that I'm officially back :') feel free to useee and tag me when yall write!!)

holding each other close in silence

yearning for just one hug after being separated for so so long... </3

"i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." :'')

noticing that bright smile of theirs after you compliment them. [my heart. omds]

them rushing into your embrace after a long day

"let me ask my partner." or,

"oh, my partner at home is waiting for me, i better get going :)"

being ur partner's mum's favorite, hehehe

^ "ma... how come they're getting head rubs from you often while i rarely do?"

sulking to get attention from them and they get cuteness aggression over you (> < my cuteness aggress. for mr. japan goes crazy guys!!)

being you comes easy with them ♡

being emotionally available to one another, and having each other and knowing you're not alone <3

when they're affirmative and expect affirmations from you <communication is the best trope>

cuddling and cozying up together, being all physical but not sexual ツ✰

them wrapping their hand around yours whenever walking together

when it's their smile, that's just enough to brighten your day :')

loving and living and actually looking forward to tomorrow with them,

^ "you make me want to be a better person."

"smile for me" or, "twirl for me" :))

searching for each other in a crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere (this is just love guys, top tier.)

[letters-unsending]

Hunger

Hero pushed a coffee mug and muffin over to Villain’s side of the desk.

“Eat.”

Villain’s eyes flickered to the mug, then to Hero, before returning to the page he’d been reading. His posture remained unchanged: hunched over, one hand pinning down the paper, the other bracing his forehead.

“We need to take a break.” Hero tried again. “I don’t even know how you can focus right now.”

“I can focus when you’re not interrupting me.”

“Interrupting? I’m trying to make sure you don’t pass out in my office.” Hero sighed. The stacks of papers spread between them dwarfed the mug Hero had offered forward. “Look, I know you want this done. I do too. But we’re going to crash and burn if we keep going.”

“You’re perfectly free to take your own break. I’m not stopping you.”

Villain shifted his current page to the “read” pile and dragged a thick book over in its stead.

“The muffin’s gluten-free.” Hero muttered. “And the drink’s non-dairy, by the way.”

Finally, Villain glanced up, pinching the cover of the book. His eyes widened a fraction.

“I can listen.” Hero turned to his own cup, covering his expression with a long draught. “Plus it’s kind of funny. You can catch a falling building, but your body draws the line at dairy? Wild.”

“Superhero has a peanut allergy.” Villain sniffed, dragging the muffin bag closer. “We all have our weaknesses.”

“She’s not allergic. You’re making that shit up.”

Villain cocked a brow. “You should pay more attention.”

“I do.” Hero waved toward the muffin and the coffee.

Villain sighed.

“So you know more about me,” Villain plucked a chocolate chip off the muffin and popped it in his mouth, “than the boss you’ve had for five years?”

[quitesins]

Edit: Heyyy wrote a little drabble from this idea yay!!! | And more!! | And even more!!

Non Mc!Reader who finds out she isn’t human, but a dragon, as her beastly features start to come in. She’s confused and scared by the sudden burn in her skull, the foreign skin growing on top of her own. And Sylus who finds her first, either through rumours or chance, looking at the pitiful thing and deciding to take her in, despite all his conflicting feelings.

Naturally, he is curious. He is meant to be the last of his kind. Beyond himself, he has never seen a dragon before. You confuse him a little.

Another part is protective, how quickly would you become a subject, threatening his existence just by being studied for yours.

And a soft part of him becomes a child again. Seeing himself alone to the changes of his body, alone to becoming a monster, alone to live out the rest of his days…

He can’t just leave you here. It wouldn’t be fair.