#fluff and a touch of angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitimeq · 7 months ago

Text

-ˋˏ ༻❁ surprise encounter 🤍 sylus 秦 ❀༺ ˎˊ-

❀˖°pairing: sylus x reader

❀˖°summary: You’ve been playing love&deepspace ever since the game came out and it became your comfort place now. You like all of the boys, but you have the highest affinity with sylus, who had your heart in a grasp ever since the beginning. Who would’ve thought that he shares the sentiment? And after your monthly absence from the game, he decides to pay you a little visit and finally confess to all of it (and maybe kind of try to kidnap you in the process too oho).

❀˖° tropes: fluff, angst to fluff, fluff to angst to fluff? fluff to angst to fluff to angst to fluff???? idk angst with happy ending!

❀˖°word count: no idea, it goes on for days sorry. (7k!!)

❀˖°warning!: i apologize for any mistakes, i am not a native speaker of english!! if you see any errors you can write me a dm and i will correct them for sure ♡ and i think it gets better later! i can’t write for shi, especially the beginnings, and the second part was fueled by my delulu so it is probably much more fun to read 🤍

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

You liked days like these: quiet days, lazy ones, when you didn’t have any errands to run, meetings to attend, or people to please. You could just stay inside for the whole day, reading your favorite books and playing cozy games, spending your time however you wanted. Today was Saturday and you didn’t have to go to work until Monday and you decided that you finally deserved to have some rest after the last couple of weeks of almost working yourself to the bone due to the amount of the assingments you had to complete at work. You often had to stay after hours or work from home to complete everything in time. Your work was not usually that challenging, but there were certain times of the year when everyone at your job had their hands full and when it happened, you were almost completely cut off not only from your social, but also personal life. However, you never complained, because you actually liked what you were doing, and even if the occasional hard times were inevitable, your work brought you so much fun and satisfaction.

And today was a good day! You finally finished everything you had to do, so you could go back to your favourite game. You didn’t have time to play recently due to the amount of work, up to the point that you didn’t even bother to check in to grab some stamina. Usually, love&deepspace was an important part of your day - you logged in there at least twice a day, completed every task thrown your way and had a blast doing so, but these couple of weeks were so hard for you that you almost forgot about it completely. But even if you were too busy, you thought about the boys from time to time, as well as about the events that you were probably missing out on. You really hoped that if some new events had taken place during that time, that they did not involve Sylus, because if you had missed them, you would be slightly devastated.

Sylus was your favorite. Ever since the beginning, there was something about him that caught your attention. You downloaded the game after his announcement and haven’t looked back since. You played with other boys as well, but your time with Sylus was always the most memorable. Not only was he extremely attractive in your eyes, as well as the eyes of other players around the world, but you also understood his character, adored his little jokes and mannerisms, and could safely say that he made your life a little more exciting. You knew that it probably sounded lame to someone who didn’t play such games, and you were aware that he wasn’t real, but you enjoyed yourself regardless. In your real life, you had some experience with men and were pretty popular among them; however, you never felt comfortable enough to form more serious romantic relationships.

Here, with Sylus, you didn’t have to worry about such things. You were aware that he was only a game character and maybe that was why you were so honest with him from the very beginning. You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, misstreat you or make you miserable - he was created in a way that was supposed to make your playthrough enjoyable so you didn’t have to worry about your responses in the messages for him or your real life reactions to everything he said or did. You could just be yourself. And you loved how freeing that felt.

That is why you felt so excited ever since you woke up. Because you knew that today you could finally go back to playing l&d, and you could meet up with your Sylus after so much time apart. You quickly did your chores, spent some time on self-care to slightly relieve the fatigue from the weeks before, you put on your favourite cozy outfit and finally clicked the ”enter game” button.

And there he was. Sylus was standing in the cafe, wearing his extremally attractive biker outfit and you caught yourself sighing dreamily at the sight of him. You missed him so bad, you missed the little memories you shared and the sound of his voice. You missed playing kitty cards with him, catching plushies together and even looking for that bastard Tobias again and again. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Hi Sylus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” You said cheerfully, feeling kind of dumb for it but you couldn’t help yourself. You often talked out loud to him during your playtime.

You watched him blink slowly once, then twice, and you started to think that there was something wrong with the server because his response should have already been uttered. But then the look on his face changed. At first, he appeared really shocked and relieved, but then a little frown appeared between his perfect little eyebrows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He responded quickly and it shocked you. You didn’t know that they could swear in the game, but after connecting some dots you figured that it had to be included in the special responses after the player was away for some time.

“At work mostly, been so busy lately but now I’m back and ready to defeat some Wanderers!!” You fist bumped the air above you, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You also noticed that his expression stayed the same. He was silent, looking at you through your phone screen with bewilderment, and he looked almost hurt. In an attempt to provide some comfort to him, you swiped your finger gently through his hair and across his cheek. However, when you touched his cheek, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your finger, which made you widen your eyes in surprise. Was that always a thing? Was he always so responsive to your touch? It had to be a new feature; you didn’t remember him being so lively.

“Next time you decide to leave me without a word, I think I’m going to take more drastic measures, sweetie” He said while opening his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice he did look different than usual. More… realistic? Even the way in which he moved his body looked so smooth.

“If not for Mephisto, I would have worried sick about your safety. You can't do this to me every time you have more work than usual; you have to visit me, even if it's just for a minute. I won't exaggerate when I say that I almost went insane after the first week of your cruel silence” And at that you were completely stunned. Should he talk this much? He never talked this much. And how could he know that you had more work than usual? Was that a lucky guess on the studio’s side?

“That’s so weird…” You whispered and touched his hand to trigger some kind of reaction that would appear more usual than what was happening right now.

“Is that your way of catching me off guard? If you wanted to hold my hand so badly kitten, then you would have visited me sooner. I will not let myself be distracted by your cute little behavior” He raised the hand you touched and crossed his arms at his chest, while continuing to frown. And you were still so, so confused.

“Promise me that you won’t leave me again, I know where to find you now.” You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip gently. You started to feel a little bit out of place, you knew that he was not real, but he sounded kind of scary. His voice was demanding, and the part about him finding you? You shivered involuntarily.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue, kitten? Or did you finally understood the selfishness of your actions?” Sylus continued and you opened your mouth in awe. “Promise. Me.” He said slowly, his gaze unnerving. Suddenly you heard a series of loud caws outside on your balcony. The sound made you jump in place, and you dropped your phone on your bed. Was that a freaking crow?? Outside your apartament???

You quickly picked up your phone and cursed softly. You were going insane. You got scared just because the game had an update you did not know about. You almost wanted to laugh at how stupid that was. Almost. Because Sylus walked up to the front of your phone screen and spoke to you again.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you really planning to leave me again?” You swore you never heard him so hurt.

“No!” You said before you could think.

“No?” He answered immediately, which scared the hell out of you. “I am not sure I believe you. And I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being away from you anymore.” He took two steps back and closed his eyes.

That was when the game crashed. Your phone appeared to be broked too, after the colourful lines appeared on the screen, flickered a couple of times and the whole screen turned black. You threw the device away from you and your heart started beating so fast you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. You were so confused and genuinely scared. Was there an update that switched the genre of the game to horror? You were stunned.

And then you heard the knock.

You almost jumped out of your slippers. You brought your hand to your heart in order to calm yourself down and you started taking slow, deep breaths. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Besides, how did Sylus, of all people, managed to scare you so badly? You adored that character, and you should know that he was prone not only to exaggeration, but also to intimidating behavior. That was literally one of his characteristics. So you forced yourself to calm down and opened the damn door, because it was probably either a mailman, or one of your friendly neighbors, and here you were making a scene like some kind of a delusional psychopath.

One. Two. Three.

You opened the door, and at first all you could see was a huge cloud of black mist. You closed your eyes in order to keep the mist from clouding your vision and then you felt wind pushing you gently further into your apartament. You heard the door close and the sound of the key turning in the lock. Everything happened so fast. And when you opened your eyes your knees almost buckled.

Sylus.

Sylus was all you could see. He was standing in front of you, in your own apartament, looking so out of place that you wanted to laugh. The first thing that you noticed about him was that he was huge, you couldn’t really see past him, and the more you looked at him, the more real he appeared to be. Soft-looking silver hair, rugged skin, that perfect nose and those piercing eyes. They looked into yours now, and at first they seemed to be searching for something, and after one quick second they visibly softened. You could also see how his handsome, oh so handsome mouth started to display his signature little smirk. And that was when you started to tremble.

“W-wha—” You tried to say something, anything but your mouth was not working. You have never been so confused and scared in your entire life. “Who—W-who are—” He was starting to close the distance between you and that is when the panic finally took over your body. You flinched and went to take a step back, but you slipped on your soft carpet.

Yet you didn’t fall. You felt the gentle caress of the mist that managed to caught you before you hit the ground, and it streightened your posture so that now you stood tall in front of the man.

“Careful kitten, I do not think that falling on four feet applies to you.” He spoke out loud for the first time and the voice was so familiar to you. It was the same, deep, husky timbre that you loved to hear, the same voice that made you squeal in happiness, that lulled you to sleep countless of times. You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my god, am I dead?” He laughed softly at your reaction and looked at you through his lashes. “This can’t be happening.”

“Oh but it is. I knew that I would find my way to you, I just needed time.” He said and tried to close the distance between you, but you didn’t let him. Every step forward he took, you took one back. “It was so hard to find you. But after you disappeared without saying a word I think I got desperate.” Something flashed in his eyes. You recognized it as determination.

He stopped walking when he noticed that you were getting too close to the balcony. He straightened his posture, and you almost released a gasp. He was huge. And he was real. Alive and so, so real, that you had trouble breathing. You were so scared, but at the same time, so happy to see him, that your body didn’t know how it should react. You just looked at him, taking him in, trying to assess whether it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, or if it wasn’t some random man breaking into your apartment and your brain had created a new, fantastic defense mechanism. But no, the longer you took him in, the more similarities you managed to notice: the scar in the corner of his eye, his unevenly clipped fingernails, strong but dry hands, olive skin, slim lips, long, slightly furrowed eyebrows. The not-so-hidden gentleness in his gaze as he was taking you in himself.

“It’s really you.” You managed to breathe out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He answered and his voice was slowly starting to make you feel these familiar butterflies. “So, so magnificent.” He continued. You felt your cheeks heat up and he seemed to drink that reaction in. “Will you talk to me more? You sound angelic. I did not think that you could sound even better than you did through the phone but I guess you will never fail to surprise me, sweetheart.” He did not move an inch. He just looked at you, and you still didn’t know how to react, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was not a weird dream. He was here and he didn’t appear to have bad intentions. At least you wanted to believe that.

“You’re still trembling. Are you really that scared of me?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m just not sure what is happening. I had no idea you were… real.” He laughed softly at that.

“You wound me, kitten. Is that your way of unleashing your little claws?” He continued with a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t take it. He looked… stressed. And you thought that was new for him. You spend so many hours playing with him in l&d but you have never seen him so stressed.

Everything that came out of his mouth was slow and precise, not a word was spoken without a purpose. However you could see by his appearance that he was uncertain.

“Of course I’m real. And all the time we spent together is real too. Was it so wrong of me to expect that you would be at least a little bit happier to see me?” He was starting to look hurt. But not angry, not displeased. More concerned than anything, and that was when most of your worries started to disappear. He was your Sylus. He really was.

“I am happy to see you. I really am.” You said truthfully, the fear slowly dissolving. “What are you doing here? How did it happen?”

“When you left me, I was worried to death. I had to come see that you were alright for myself.” He said, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found a path between our worlds, and first I sent Mephisto after you. And that was how I knew you were fine, just busy.” He started explaining slowly and put two fingers at the bridge of his nose. This gesture was so familiar that you felt a slight pang in your chest. “Which l understand. But you stopped visiting completely and I panicked that I lost you. And that you lost your interest in me. And when you logged in today I guess I just lost control over myself.”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you. I needed to know that you will never leave me like that again. But how could I be so sure if you thought I was not real, sweetie?” His voice carried a hint of a ridicule. He smirked slowly and you allowed yourself to relax. You spend so much time with him on your phone, that you knew when he really needed reassurance. And it was the first time you saw him being so honest about his own feelings.

You decided to step closer to him and his eyes widened slightly. His body tightened because of the sudden change in proximity, and when you gently touched his hand bringing it to your mouth, he appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I would never leave you, Sy. At least not without saying goodbye first. You are my safe space, remember?” You said quietly and smiled at him brightly, reminding him of what you had written in your game bio. And then you brought his knuckles to your lips and placed a soft kiss upon them. His hands were much warmer than you expected them to be. They felt harsh, but gentle.

The next thing you heard was a soft grunt and you felt yourself being suddenly lifted in the air. You yelped and found yourself pressed against his big, solid chest. Sylus hugged your body to his by wrapping both of his arms around your torso, and when he realized that you weren’t comfortable, he put one hand under your thighs and brought your body to his by your waist. You let your arms wrap around his neck and squeezed, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale your scent and his breath became rigged, as if he could not contain his excitement. You also became familiar with his scent. He smelled so manly and comforting, you could catch some notes of wood and leather, and something surprisingly sweet.

“You smell divine. You’re so soft, so warm.” He breathed against your neck and you felt goosebumps spreading throughout your whole body. You were so embarrassed, you felt like you needed to release some tension.

“I did not expect you to be so open with me. You’re usually the teasing type.” He chucked deeply and put his forehead against yours, while closing his eyes. Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“There will be a time for teasing you, kitten.” He rubbed his forehead against yours slowly. “Right now let me enjoy you for a bit. I can’t believe I finally got to see you.” He squeezed you harder to him. You reciprocated the hug with all you had. You were actually kind of scared that your grip was too hard, but he seemed to bask in it. “Communicating through that small device was not nearly enough for me. I could always see you and I heard your little responses to everything I was saying. But it took me some time to figure out how to change some things up.” Your eyes went wide at the mention of your reactions, you knew that a lot of times there were beyond embarrassing, but you decided your blush to speak for itself. But what truly caught your attention was how he managed to appear in your home.

“Change things up?? You must have made such a mess, will it really be okay?” The concern in your voice made him look up and find your eyes with his. You were now looking at his beautiful red ones, so full of adoration and determination. You could see that the consequences of his actions did not matter to him at all.

“Sweetie, I would gladly burn the world down for you, even if it meant that I could see you just once.” You swallowed audibly and proceeded to shy away from his piercing gaze. You started to feel unworthy of such attention, you couldn’t quite grasp what exactly made him care about you to such extend. “Fortunately for everyone, the process did not involve starting an intergalactic war.” He smirked slowly, his eyes finding your lips and staying there for much longer than necessary. “Yet.”

You chuckled at that and proceeded to bury your fingers in his hair, stroking the strands with care. They were so soft to the touch, they reminded you of silk. He closed his eyes and let you touch him to your heart’s content. Your hand quickly found its way to his forehead, and then to his cheek, stroking the skin delicately. You couldn’t believe how someone so handsome could really exist.

“See something you like, kitten?” He said and nuzzled into your palm, pressing a kiss right there. “You will have all the time in the world to touch me when we arrive in the N109 Zone.” He seemed so peaceful, so content with himself, but the mention of the N109 Zone stopped you in your tracks. You tensed visibly and he opened his eyes, noticing the change in your posture.

“The N109 Zone?” You asked puzzled. “Are you taking me away for a weekend?” You took your hand from his face and he used his Evol to bring it back to his cheek. The mist around your fingers felt weird, but not unpleasant.

“For a weekend? No, no.” He locked his eyes with yours, his head slowly closing the distance between you. He licked his lips and looked at your mouth once again. “I am taking you away for forever.” And before his lips managed to touch yours, you flinched. Your hands quickly pushed him away and the panic returned to your features.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said. Pack your bags if you believe there is something that I cannot provide for you quickly enough, and we will be off shortly.” He said matter of factly, kind of annoyed by the distance you decided to put between you. “Luke and Kieran have already prepared a room for you, although I think that you will have more than enough space for your belongings in mine.” His eyes brightened with excitement that you unfortunately could not share. Instead, you lightly pushed his torso, making him lower you to the ground grudgingly. His brows were once again furrowed.

“I can’t go with you Sylus. At least, not for forever”

“You can. We can stay together for the rest of our lives and no one would have any objections. I took care of everything.” He reached to grab your forearm and stroked it softly with his thumb. He was so sure of everything he was saying that you could feel how much he let himself get lost in his fantasy. It did make you feel wanted, loved even. But no matter how happy you were that he was real, and apparently shared your feelings, you couldn’t agree to his plan.

“No, Sylus. I need to stay here, I have built my whole life in this place.” You could feel how much your words shocked him. He was looking at you so puzzled as if he didn’t think that you declining his offer was even an option. “I can’t leave everything that I managed to achieve, I really am content with my life, despite how complicated it can be.” You said truthfully. A part of you wanted to go with him, to feel safe and cherished for, for the rest of your life but you knew that was not realistic. You wanted to achieve more, you wanted to have your own life and your own space. You needed to be independent, to feel that you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself and your own needs.

“I do not understand. Don’t you want to be with me?” It pained you how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. And you hated the look on his face - it made you feel like you were betraying him.

”I do want to! Oh my god— I really, really do want to Sylus. I don’t think that I can live without spending time with you anymore.” You smiled at him, and took hold of his huge, rugged hand. “But I can’t live with you in the N109 Zone. I can’t leave my whole life behind.” And the fact that he wanted to make you do that somewhat scared you. Made you feel distressed.

“I see.” He sounded deep in thought. Then, he broke the eye contact for a second, looked at his hand in your hold and before you could even react, he grabbed your body gently with his Evol and picked you up. Your whole body was above ground and although you felt secured, you looked at him with surprise.

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get free from the hold of the mist, but it was impossible with how tight it was. “Sylus, you have to let me go.” You tried not to panic, you knew that you weren’t in danger. But he looked relentless, unforgiving as if his mind was already set in stone.

“No. I can’t. Not now when I finally got to have you.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows still furrowed, and you could hear a hint of a growl in his voice. “If you do not wish to go with me, I guess I would have to take you by force.”

It was then that you felt a sense of panic. You knew him, and you knew that if he wants something, he always gets it. It just did not cross your mind that he would ever go against your own wishes.

“No. No, no, no, Sylus, please calm down.” He narrowed his eyes and stood motionless before you, his face devoid of almost any emotion. Almost, if not for the desperation shining through his watchful eyes. “You cannot take me away. At least not for now. But I will do anything you ask me to! You can also stay here for some time, and visit me whenever you want to, I swear, I would be so happy to have you.” You just needed him to listen. You knew that you could change his mind, he always listened to what you had to say, he just needed a little bit of persuasion. Maybe he didn’t even think about alternative options?

“And I would make you happy in the N109 Zone with me.” You laughed with disbelief. He was completely missing your point. You decided to once again yank your hands from the grasp of his mist, and then hissed with pain when it did not loosen up its hold. “Your struggle is futile, please stop, I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He was annoyed with you and your disobedience. He did not think that you would have any objections, he started loosing his cool.

“You would never let me get hurt.” You answered, wanting to assure yourself of it as well. You didn’t like how commanding he sounded.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “Yes, you know I would stop at nothing to protect you.” His gaze never wavered from yours. He truly thought that what he was doing was for the best. And you just had to let him know how wrong his approach was.

“Yes! Yes I do know that! Because I know you, Sy.” You started to sound as if you were pleading. Deep down it scared you, send uncomfortable shivers down your spine. “I know you, and I know that you also know me.”

He placed his hand on his heart.

“And I adore every single piece of information. And I still wish to know you much, much better.” You tensed when you noticed that his right eye was starting to glow. You did not know if that was intentional, or just a trick of the light.

“Then you MUST know how much this life means to me. How much I like my stupid job, and how much I love the people that are here for me. My friends, my family.” You noticed that your reasoning started to get to him when he clenched his fists and avoided your eyes for a second. “And you have to know how much it would hurt me if you were to take me away from them.” He appeared taken aback. It seemed that his longing for you clouded his judgement, and now he started to notice the faults in his plan.

“But I cannot stand to be apart from you anymore, sweetie.” In normal circumstances that would be so touching to you. But nothing about this situation was normal, and you guessed you just had to show him how normal looked like.

“You won’t be. You can visit me anytime you want. Stay for how long you want.” You wanted that too. So bad.

“But that is not ENOUGH.” It was the first time you heard his raised voice and you started to tremble. His outburst must’ve thrown him off guard too, because he wavered and the grip he had on you loosed. You acted instinctively. You freed yourself from the mist and started to run towards your door. And although he was stunned by your reaction, he quickly teleported so that you ran straight into his chest. His hands grabbed yours in order to protect you from falling due to the impact.

He gently caressed your now slightly red forehead and sighed loudly. You could hear that he was hurt. You cried out from frustration.

“If you really thought that you could run away from me then you must be a total fool.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and lifted your chin up with his finger. “Usually I like playing cat and mouse with you, but I do not like the fact that you appear genuinely scared of me right now.” He hugged your waist and brought you closer to him, lowering his head at the same time. “And that you tried to run away from me when I only want to offer you my protection.”

“It doesn’t sound like protection, it sounds like imprisonment.” You used strong words, but you sounded so small. You did not know what to do with him, you were so scared. ”I’m just scared. I tried to run away because you scared me, Sylus.” You sounded desperate for him to understand you. To look past his own clouded vision.

“You do not have to fear me. I just want what is best for you. For us.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he also proceeded to grab your wrist.

“No. You only want what is best for you. You are not listening to me. I do care about you Sylus, but I cannot leave this place.” You tried to stand your ground but you two never argued before. It was an unfamiliar ground to you, especially when it was the first time that you had a conversation in person. Everything felt more intense and dangerous when you remembered the extreme measures he was always willing to take to achieve his goals.

“You can. And I will make you leave.” He almost growled and a cloud of black and red mist surrounded both of you, and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

”Sylus, no, please, I don’t want to. Please, just listen to me, please.” And it was at that moment he started to came into his senses. Your quiet voice and your eyes full of tears made his breathing stop. It was the first time he was seeing you react like this. He hated how broken you sounded. How small. “I’m so scared, Sy, please stop scaring me.” Your voice sounded choked and you could feel that the tears started streaming down your face. Every single one physically hurt him. It was your first meeting and he already made you so miserable. He wanted to scream. “Please.” You tried once again and it shocked you that it finally worked on him.

He tensed and released you from his grip. The mist also dissipated as he took a step back from you. You could hear him breathing deeply.

“I cannot do this." He sounded panicked. “I did not want to scare you, and I cannot listen to your little broken pleas. They break my heart.” He hidden his face in his hands and curled in himself. He felt as if someone pierced his heart with a knife and twisted it. He could not bring himself to look at your beautiful heartbroken face again. “They really do. Please, just stop crying. You won.”

You sniffed softly and touched your wet cheeks. You tried to calm yourself down, he finally listened to you.

“It does not feel so good this time for some reason.” You answered, referring to your Kitty Card battles. You wanted to relieve the tension somehow. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt you, you understand that he lives in a different reality where danger awaits everywhere. You could understand why he wanted to have you beside him at all times. But it scared you how insistent he was, how brutal and final. “Do you really understand why I got so scared?”

He nodded helplessly. “I won’t steal you away. Not when I know how much you despise the idea of spending the rest of your time with me.” You noticed how hard he was pressing his hands to his face and you grabbed them in your own. He let you uncover his eyes and you saw how much it hurt him to let you go.

“Oh, Sy.” You whispered and hugged his hands to your chest. “You know that’s not the reason.”

“Stop calling me that. It drives me crazy.” He breathed and met your eyes. “You drive me crazy. What am I going to do with you? How can I make sure you are safe now?” You took his hands and made him follow you into your bedroom. You sat on your bed and urged him to do the same. This way you could finally talk with him more comfortably.

“Sylus, we have to talk about it.” You squeezed his hands and he looked at yours and took notice of how much smaller they were in comparison to his. So fragile, so breakable. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body longed to protect you. “I do not despise the idea of spending my time with you. I just can’t randomly leave everything I know and love. And this world is different from the one you know, we have our dangers but no one wants my head.” You explained to him slowly. “There are no Wanderers. No protocores.” He looked conflicted.

“I already know that sweetheart. I do. But when you disappeared for such a long time I couldn’t help but think that something bad happened to you” he gritted through his teeth. “I nearly lost my mind looking for you everywhere. It was terrifying, that thought in my mind and the idea that I would never have another chance to speak with you. To see you.” He touched your forearms and brought you a little closer to him. “And when Mephisto found you safe and sound I thought that I never want to feel that fear, that helplessness again. And the only way to do that is to keep you beside me at all times. To guard you with my own body and soul.” He took your hand and rested it on his chest. You could feel the fast and steady rhythm of his heart. You could feel his desperation, his complete devotion. And it almost made you tear up.

“I-I’m so sorry that I made you worry this much.” He studied your face with intention and you shake your head. “But I didn’t even know that you were real. I really thought it was just a game that made me feel less alone and now…” You swallowed audibly. “Now I know that everything I built with you during our time together was very much real and I’m still having trouble to wrap my head around it to be honest.” You smiled at him softly and he nodded with understanding.

“And then you came in and wanted to kidnap me to a world much more dangerous than mine where I do not have my close ones and—”

“I did NOT mean for that to be a kidnapping I though that you shared my sentiment, and also wanted to spend some time—”

“SOME time?? Sylus you wanted me to switch literal worlds and live with you in your freaking villa in the middle of nowhere—”

“I live in an apartment that has a fantastic location, mind you, and you would feel so comfortable in—”

”Apartament??? You cannot possibly be a freaking leader of Onychinus and live in an apartment complex, are you being serious with me right now??”

“Have you ever heard of a saying that the darkest place is under the candlestick, kitten? Besides there is no one in the whole N109 Zone that would pose an actual threat to me—” He cut off when he met your eyes full of laughter, and then he heard that beautiful sound. You burst into giggles right in front of him and you touched him by the bicep and brought his forehead to yours. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, understanding the absurdity of the situation. Feeling your forehead against his, hearing your adorable chuckles and inhaling your sweet scent made him feel so at peace that he closed his eyes to embrace the moment completely. He couldn’t believe that he almost ruined your relationship by being so selfish.

“I missed this. This back and forth with you” You said and he chucked deeply. “I really am happy to see you, Sy. And I swear that we will be able to talk and spent time with each other more often now. And actually see each other in person.” He nuzzled into your face more and you caught his smirk by the corner of your eye. “We can stay in touch at all times, so that you won’t have to worry about my safety so much.”

“So bossy, kitten.” He answered, but the small smile did not leave his face. He couldn’t make it go away even if he tried. “Forgive me for scaring you earlier. I was not thinking straight. I was just so elated to finally have you in my arms that I let my selfishness get the best of me, and for that I’m sorry. I did not want to ruin our first meeting, sweetie.” You hugged him by bringing your arms around his chest and he closed his eyes drinking in the proximity. You were too small, too adorable, too attractive for him to take it. Too honest. Too lovable. Made just for him to adore. To protect.

“You did not ruin anything.” You said into his shirt, hugging him tighter. “I understand you, Sylus. And I like you a little selfish if it means that’s what brought you to me” He smiled into your hair and reluctantly let go of your fragile frame. He touched your chin and delicately lifted your face up to face him. His eyes were once again drinking you in, committing every single one of your features to his memory. He sighed contentedly.

“Selfishness was not the reason of my visit.” You could see how his eyes softened and you felt your chest squeeze. You brushed his cheek, loving the way how he seemed to relish in your touch. His eyes wandered to your lips: pink, plump and so inviting. “Adoration was. The complete love and devotion that I have felt for you for quite some time now.” You gasped quietly and opened your lips slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Sy—”

“And I guess a little emotional push was what made me finally find my way to you, my beloved.” He half-whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours, locking you in a sweet, passionate kiss that went on and on, seeming to deepen with every minute you spent in his embrace.

*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*

3K notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 7 months ago

Text

How Could You Refuse?

─────── · ·

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: When assigned as the lab assistant to Jayce, you were first intimidated to work under someone of such genius inventions but the longer you work alongside one another, the more comfortable you feel and the more you feel for Jayce.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, light angst, fluff, touch as a love language, jealous! and protective!Jayce, reader is mentioned to have hair.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,662

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: The way in which I hated Jayce so incredibly much to being in love with him in season 2 deserves to be studied. Let me know if you like this!

─────── · ·

─ · · You had been working under Jayce for as long as recent memory could remember. As soon as he got started working his brilliant mind within the Academy, you were assigned to help the genius (and to keep him alive as well)

─ · · At first you were intimidated and worried to work with the man, often staying in your own corner of the room, running over with tools before taking a few too many steps back- allowing him space or not speaking as to not disturb him but the longer you worked together, the more comfortable you felt. Sitting beside him, sharing meals and ideas together, hands brushing against one another when passing tools and diagrams. The jokes you two shared when your minds were foggy and not quite running right as you laughed at anything at all before the cleaners kicked you both out for the night

─ · · Working for Jayce as you both grew and aged meant getting woken up at odd hours of the night and early morning to be a comforting presence and to ensure he remember to drink liquids other than coffee and the caffeinated tea he unsuccessfully tried to "out-smart" you with

─ · · If Jayce was the brain, you were practically an extension of his body, moving around with him, always knowing what tool or paper he would be next. And if he was ranting or trying to summarize his key points before presenting in front of the Professor, you would be standing in front of him, notebook and pen in arms capturing his every thought. And when you would run out of paper, you would simply start writing up and around your arm

─ · · It would be an uncommon sight not to see you covered in Jayce's diagrams, equations, or quotes as you two walked down the halls together arm in arm. At first, you insisted upon walking slightly apart yet Jayce was having none of that, grabbing your arm and parading you down the hall with a large goofy smile as you did your best to hide your face from the on-coming stares as you glared at his shoes. But now you embraced the mutual comfort you both found in your friendship

─ · · One time Viktor decided to come into the laboratory early and was surprised to see you both asleep at the desk, your head resting on Jayce's shoulder as his arm wrapped around your side, cuddling you both together. Opening a window to let the cool morning breeze, out of the corner of his eye Viktor watched as you both came back to your senses. Stumbling away from one another as you patted down your hair and Jayce stretched himself out as your eyes darted all the way around the room, doing your best to not look and met Viktor's curious stare before he too turned around and began working. "coffee, anyone?"

"please," Jayce replies, grabbing your hand gently as you nod, dropping it and turning out of the hall, only catching the start of his next sentence to Viktor.

"I think I haven't been the most truthful..."

─────── · ·

─ · · As Jayce's diagrams became more complex, his position within the Academy rose and with his growing partnership with Viktor as well, all eyes were on these two men you had the pleasure of working alongside and you couldn't help but receive a few curious glances your way as well.

─ · · It was no shocker to anyone seeing your beauty under your ink filled arms and messy hair that you tugged at endlessly while trying to crunch numbers after numbers with a sleepy Jayce leaning on your shoulder, overlooking your work. He would often press a kiss to your hand, forehead, or cheek, praising you as your cheeks heated up before you squeezed his hand in thanks and returned back to your work

─ · · Now that you think about it, you both had been way more physically affectionate to one another in recent moments yet that was only a testimony to your long-term partnership, nothing more, nothing less.

─ · · You had actually received many offers from other brilliant minds and even sponsors asking you to work for them, and you denied every time knowing that your place was working with your boys but that didn't mean Jayce didn't get annoyed to your surprise.

─ · · His eyebrow furrowed as yet another person came forward, trying to charm your pants off and get you to work for them. He trusted in you, trusted in your working friendship but there was always that smaller, inner voice within him that thought otherwise. That you would leave him for something "bigger" and "greater" that pushed him to do his best- to impress you- to get you to stay

─ · · You were worried about just how far Jayce was pushing himself, striving for greatness as you spent an equal time sitting at the desk, often falling asleep at his side no matter how many times he asked you to go to bed. And more often than not, when you would reawaken in the morning, you would fine a simple note from Jayce as he had carried you back to your room.

─ · · When Jayce became a councillor, you were immensely proud, crying the entire duration when one of your collegue's told you before heading back to the lab where Viktor was already tinkering away. Might as well get closer to Viktor now that it'll just be us two from now on, you tell yourself. Sitting near Viktor as you pass him tool after tool, write down his notes, and provide him coffee

─ · · Work carries on as it usually does, the only difference is not seeing Jayce in the last couple of days yet that was to be expected with his promotion. You were happy to work alongside Viktor but more so than you had been in the past. You both shared a love of blunt and dry humour.

─ · · Jayce was confused as to why he hadn't see you yet, you were his assistant, were you not? He thought to himself near the tail end of a council meeting before heading to the laboratory to find you and Viktor asleep at the same desk, ankles intertwined, heads on a blanket of blueprints and sketches.

─ · · In a feeling of deja vu, Jayce opens the window, allowing the cool morning breeze to drift through the room as you both stir away. You blink, eyes and mind hazy as you stare at the broad man standing in front of you, hand resting on the back of your head. "I've missed you," the voice calls out as you hum, you shake Viktor awake as he groans, pushing your hand away before rubbing his eyes. "Jayce... is that you?"

"yes, it is, and this is where you've been the whole time?" Jayce asks, arms crossed like his eyebrows as he stares you down, his stare making you feel small.

"uh, yes. I've been helping Viktor continue his plans for the new gauntlets for the miners..." you trail off, looking over to find the chair beside you empty, your frown noticeable as Jayce gently turns your head back to face him.

"I need you by my side." And how could you refuse? with the puppy dog eyes you received.

─────── · ·

─ · · That very same day, you apologized to Viktor who only shrugged his shoulders, hand shooing you away and back to Jayce as you followed him in his shadow between meetings with the usual notes in your arm and tray of coffee in the other. Jayce huffed, stopping as you walked into his back, "nothing has changed, you still are my dearest friend, you know that?" Jayce looks down at you, expression serious as you nod your head firmly and take a step beside him, feeling as he takes the tray from out of your hand and wraps his arm under your own. "Much better."

─ · · You felt very out of place, standing to his side during council meetings as he would ask for your opinion as if you were back in the lab, except this time, a dozen eyes were watching your every move as you leaned in to whisper into Jayce's ear your answers.

─ · · The same feeling could also be said for the various events you accompanied him to as well. His arm always a staple around your waist or arm as he guided and introduced you to socialite after politician and you were becoming seriously overwhelmed, this was not a part of the original job description, you thought to yourself while freshening up in the washroom, another councillor Mel, joined you soon afterwards

"You and Jayce appear... close" you flush underneath her curious gaze, eyes darting around the mirror to anywhere but her gaze. "Yes... we have... worked together for quite some time now," you explain, picking at the skin near your fingertips.

"Just working partners though?" Mel presses forward, the hint of a smile appearing on her lips as your mind races at a mile a minute, you think of his mouth whispering into your ear, his large hands gripping your waist, his groggy morning voice as you wake him up with a hand on his shoulder as he smiles lazily at you before pressing a kiss to your temple. Your heart races as you shake your head of these thoughts, "we are nothing more than that," you clarify.

"So that means you wouldn't be mad if I tried something?" Mel asks, extending her hand in an equal silent ask as you stare at the gold jewellery running up her arm doing nothing but already compliment her immense beauty, they would look good together. "No, go ahead."

─────── · ·

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

#fanfic #fanfiction #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes #x reader #arcane x reader #jayce x reader #jayce talis x reader #jealous #protective #fluff #light angst #love language #physical touch #arcane #How Could You Refuse?

1K notes · View notes

softaestluv · 4 months ago

Text

Guard Dogs

You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Tags: Angst, Fluff, & Eventual Smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 , Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5 | masterlist | ao3

Ghost, who won’t admit it, gets a dog because when he’s not on assignments he gets lonely. His home feels terribly empty all by himself; the silence deafening, borderline painful. Adopted him from the local shelter, a German shepherd who he names Riley. Tells everyone that he needed a guard dog to protect his belongings when he’s not home, but everyone knows his prized possessions are far and few in between. Could hold all of them in his palms, carries them with him all the time anyways.

He trained Riley rigorously just like he did in the military. Treated him just as he did his trainees. Until he was obedient and well-behaved, listened to his every command. A perfect sidekick for him. Kept him company in his home that felt too large to be alone in. Always at his feet or curled into his side on the couch. A couch he probably shouldn’t let him on or bed sheets he shouldn’t be tangled in, but Ghost had a soft spot for him. Broke the rules for him because he was his dog after all, made the silence and loneliness a little bearable. Made his home a little more warm.

Riley who seemed to take a liking to you— the pretty bird who lived across the street. Made him think that maybe Riley was more like him than he realized; his own eyes had been drawn to you multiple times. He was usually well-behaved, didn’t approach strangers or jump on them for their attention. Ghost had trained him better than that. However, the first time he crossed your path on a walk, he pulled Simon by the leash, pressed his nose against your calf eagerly in interest.

You stopped in your tracks with a soft noise of surprise, “Oh! Well, hi there!” Your focus shifted to Simon, “Is it okay if I pet him?”

Simon hummed nodding his head in response. You gave him a small smile before squatting down eye level to Riley. Pet down his back and scratched behind his ears, Riley wagging his tail swiftly behind him, would probably purr if he was a cat. Dog hair covered your black shirt as he snuggled into your touch, but you didn’t seem to mind too much.

Cooed baby voiced praises to him that had him whining happily, “What’s your name, sweet boy?”

“Riley.”

“Riley,” You repeated softly, caused him to bark loudly in response. Snickered quietly at the noise, “Nice to meet you too, Riley.”

“Sorry, he doesn’t usually bug people like this,” Simon apologized, tugging on his leash lightly to pull him away.

You stood up at that, shaking your head, “Don’t worry. I don’t mind at all he’s a sweetheart.”

“Got dog hair all over ya now.” Gestured to the hair decorated on your clothing.

You exhaled a chuckle, brushing the fur off as best you could, “No worries, I live up the block. On my way home, anyways, just on a run.”

“Think I might live across from you. Moved in a couple months ago, but haven’t really been around.”

“Oh, yes! Wondered who lived there for a while now,” Held your hand out for him to take, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Riley whined when Simon pulled him away, tried to follow after you when you continued your jog. Sat and watched you run away despite Simon’s tugging or lack there of.

After that there wasn’t a day they didn’t run into you. Simon always woke up too early, military sleeping schedule beat into his mind. Didn’t have pleasant enough dreams to keep sleeping most nights anyways. At least that was the excuse he created in his mind to validate his actions.

Maybe Riley was his wingman, pressed his nose against your calf every time he passed you. Caused you to stop and greet them both, gave Riley endless pets and scratches before you turned your attention to Simon with a pretty smile. Drenched in sweat and frizzy hair from running, but each look from you had his mouth drying. Didn’t care that he wore a balaclava, didn’t even ask, chose to focus on his eyes instead.

It became his favorite part of his days, looking forward to the small interaction he would have with you. No matter how insignificant it was, but nothing seemed to be that way with you. Asked how he was, how did his day go yesterday, and how was Riley doing? How was work? Tiring, of course. Maybe you should sleep more instead of waking up so early!

He would if he could, but then he wouldn’t get to see you. His pretty neighbor, too sweet for her own good.

The only other time he got to see you was through your windows in the evening. It’s not like he was watching you, really, he wasn’t a stalker. He just so happened to be by his living room window everytime you came home from work. 6 o’clock on the dot, 5 on Fridays, started your weekends early.

Watched you slip out of your car, different sundress every time, dressed just like a pretty doll. Flowy and ruffled, hid your figure well enough. Didn’t flaunt it, but he knew what was underneath it all. He had seen your silhouette through the dimly lit curtains, shadows of you peeling layers off to shower.

Simon wasn’t a pervert, he wasn’t desperate for these small glimpses every night. But didn’t you know you should be more careful sweetheart? There were perverts out there, you were lucky he wasn’t one. He only kept looking to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

The evils of other men that you never brought home. No boyfriend in sight. Never stayed out late, even on weekends. Stayed snuggled on your couch or cooked for most of your free time. A proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy.

Cooking he wanted desperately to try, spent hours in your kitchen preparing god knows what. It’s not like Simon would even know what you were making, his countless store bought meals buried in his trash were evident enough. Hoped he might get a taste one day, melt on his tongue because he knew it would be delicious.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar rather than enjoying the warmth of your home and cooking. So he cherished what he could get, the small greetings every morning, and the clockwork of watching you every night. Even if Riley wanted more.

1K notes · View notes

technically-human · 11 months ago

Text

St. Hilarion's ghost story

#payneland #edwin x charles #dead boy detectives #dbda #pre canon angst brought to you by the weirdo who's always drawing post canon fluff #something about oral tradition and old timey slang #i took quite a lot of decisions with this one so buckle up #first of all the female ghost keeps edwin's eyes color because there's still some truth to the legend #the background is the same shade of green to reference hell #just like it is when he's having his flashback #alive charles is dressed all in black because he's not a happy boy #i also made it so that he grips his clothes when his mate punches him even as it's intended to be friendly #because well #these people will end up killing him so it's less friendly when you remember THAT #charles obviously doesn't mean anything by the mary ann comment #he doesn't know the slang meaning and just blurted out what he remembered from the legend #he will find out reach some conclussions and go punch a wall about it probably #about edwin tho his escape is still very recent and he didn't expect this #but even so early on he knows charles means no harm and allows himself to be comforted #it wasn't intentional but hey edwin shruggin off charles' touch is a good parallel to that one scene after charles “kills” the night nurse

3K notes · View notes

maevedoodle · 3 months ago

Text

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Pairing-Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary-Bucky refuses to let himself get close to you, constantly keeping his distance. But one night, after a nightmare, he finds himself knocking on your door, seeking comfort in the last place he ever expected

Tags-comfort,soft bucky,nightmares,fear,happy ending,emotional support,a tad bit angst

Word count-1.3k

Bucky is a man of few words and even fewer connections. He's been through too much, seen too much, to ever fully open up to anyone. He keeps everyone at arm's length, too afraid to get close and risk the pain of loss or rejection.

You though? Your different. For some reason, Bucky finds it hard to push you away. You're the only person who's been able to break through the walls he's built around himself. Maybe it's your strength, your quiet patience, or the way you've never forced him to talk about his past.

The recent shower had left you feeling relaxed, your skin warm and soft as you stepped out. The air in your room was cool, but the gentle, golden light from your bedside lamp made the space feel cozy and inviting.

You slipped into your white lace set delicate and simple, the fabric clinging softly to your skin. The matching tank top and underwear hugged you in all the right ways, the lace a faint whisper against your body.

As you moved toward your bed, the faint scent of vanilla clung to your skin, mixing with the lingering steam from the shower.

It was subtle, one of your favorite things. You sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the book that you had been reading earlier.

The room felt warm, peaceful, the soft glow from the lamp casting shadows against the walls as you settled in, the pages of your book rustling quietly as you began to read.

The words on the page blurred after a while, your eyelids growing heavy with the comfort of the stillness surrounding you.

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ

3am

Somewhere around the middle of the night a faint knock at the door pierced through the stillness. It was a sound so out of place in that came of the night, and it startled you awake, your body jerking slightly as you blinked, groggy and confused.

For a moment, your mind was too foggy to register the source of the noise. You groaned softly, irritated at being woken up so suddenly.

Still, the knock came again, louder this time, urgent. You threw the covers off in a hurry, the cool air of the room hitting your warm skin as you stumbled out of bed.

You quickly crossed the room, your feet barely making a sound against the floor. You were ready to snap at whoever had the audacity to disturb your peaceful sleep, but as you opened the door, your words faltered.

Standing in front of you was Bucky. His usually composed face was anything but. His eyes were red rimmed, glistening with tears, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

His hands were trembling at his sides, and his entire body seemed to be coiled with tension, as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

It was the last thing you expected, and your irritation melted into concern as you took in the sight of him.

"Bucky?" You whispered, your voice thick with sleep and confusion. "What—" He immediately cut off your questions with a cracked voice, "I need—" His voice cracked, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, like he was fighting something deep inside.

He wiped at his face, trying to steady himself, but his hands trembled. "I need you," he finally whispered, his voice shaky with a mix of exhaustion and something deeper, more raw.

Your heart tightened at the sight of him, this was not the Bucky you were used to. The stoic, guarded man who always kept his distance this was someone else entirely.

Without thinking, you moved closer to him, your arms wrapping around his trembling form in a tight hug. Bucky flinched at first, but then he melted into your embrace, his body shaking violently.

His sobs were muffled against your shoulder, the sound raw and desperate, like a dam that had finally broken.

You held him for a few moments longer, your heart breaking for the pain he was in, before gently pulling him away, your hand still on his back. "Come on," you murmured softly, leading him toward your bed.

You didn't know what else to do, but you couldn't stand seeing him in this state, vulnerable and hurting. Bucky followed you wordlessly, his feet dragging as if he were already exhausted. Without hesitation, he lowered himself onto your bed, curling up in a position that felt familiar to him.

His head resting gently between your thighs, his body still trembling. It was as if, in this moment, it was the only place he could find solace.

Your heart pounded a bit, your fingers running through his dark damp hair, the coolness of the room in stark contrast to the heat from his skin. His breathing was shallow at first, but as you continued to soothe him, the tension in his body slowly began to fade.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked quietly, your voice soft but steady, careful not to push him. Bucky's response was a small, barely perceptible nod, his face pressed against your thighs, his eyes closed.

"Okay," you said gently, your fingers still weaving through his hair. "And if it gets too much, you can stop. You don't have to do this if you're not ready."

Bucky shifted slightly, his hand coming up to grip the fabric of your blanket as he tried to find his words. After a moment, he spoke, his voice quiet and hoarse, the weight of his nightmare still lingering in his tone.

"I was back in that place," he started, his voice shaking as he spoke. "Hydra. They were all around me, the experiments, the people they hurt, And I couldn't stop it. I was just—just standing there, watching them hurt people, and I couldn't move. I couldn't save them."

His breath hitched. "And then... and then I saw you. But I couldn't reach you, you were so far away, and I couldn't protect you." He paused, the memory still haunting him. His grip on the blanket tightened, his breathing quickening again.

"It felt so real," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Like I was back there again, and I couldn't do anything."

Your heart ached for him as you gently rubbed his back, trying to offer him the comfort he so desperately needed. "You're safe now, Bucky," you whispered.

"None of that is real anymore. You're with me, and I won't let anything happen to you. I promise." Bucky didn't respond, but his grip on the blanket loosened just a bit, his body relaxing slightly against you.

You continued to play with his hair, giving him the space to process, the quiet room around you both offering a sense of calm.

Without warning, you felt a soft, warm kiss on the inside of your thigh. It was gentle, almost like a sigh, as if Bucky were trying to express gratitude in the only way he could.

His lips lingered there for a moment, a delicate, tender touch that sent a shiver through you not from any discomfort, but from the quiet intimacy of it all.

Bucky pulled away slightly, sitting up just enough to look at you. His eyes drifted over your form, catching the soft glow of the lamp reflecting off your matching white lace tank top and underwear. A small, breathy chuckle escaped him as he gazed at you.

"This is what you wear to bed?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. The sound of his amusement made your stomach twist, and suddenly, you became hyper aware of the way you were dressed.

You crossed your arms over your chest instinctively, a rush of self consciousness flooding through you.

"Are you laughing at me?" you asked, a tinge of insecurity creeping into your voice. Bucky immediately noticed the shift in your mood. He shifted closer to you, his eyes softening.

"No, y/n, I'm not laughing at you." His voice was sincere, his smile turning into something warmer. "You look beautiful."

#marvel #fanfic #mcu #x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #angst to comfort #fluff #emotional #cuddling and touching

659 notes · View notes

callmebyyourcallsign · 19 days ago

Text

Touch and Go

Pairing: Lt. Robert “Bob” Floyd x Pilot!Reader

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, emotional repression, soft yearning

Setting: Post–Top Gun: Maverick, new elite flight program

Summary: You're a rising star pilot hand-picked for an advanced tactical training assignment. Bob Floyd, calm, brilliant, and frustratingly unreadable, is your WSO. You trust him in the air more than anyone. On the ground, though, your hands brush a little too often. Your silences last a little too long. And Bob? He's already gone, in the quiet, devastating way he always does. Love is mutual, but unspoken. After all, you’re both professionals… right?

Word Count: 4,983

Bob Floyd has always been good at silence.

Not the awkward kind, he hates that, actually, but the kind that sits warm in your chest, wraps around your ribs like a seatbelt. The kind that lives in cockpits and libraries and back porches after midnight. The kind that feels like knowing.

That’s the kind you bring with you.

You talk a lot less than people expect from a pilot with your record. But when you do, it’s always something that sticks. A sharp little joke. A perfectly timed one-liner. Sometimes, if he's lucky, one of those honey-dripping nicknames you toss at him when the others aren't around. Flyboy, mostly. Soft and smug, like you know exactly what it does to him.

Bob pretends he doesn’t.

He's good at that too.

The first time you flew together, you turned around in your seat, grinned through your visor, and said,

“Don’t let me crash and die, Floyd.” He’d blinked, heart skipping a full beat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Now it’s been months.

You know the rhythms of each other’s breath in-flight. You finish his checklists before he finishes speaking. You know when he tenses by the way his boot shifts under the floor panel, and he knows when you're fighting Gs by the subtle dip in your voice, still strong, still cocky, but just soft enough to make his heart ache.

And still. Neither of you has said it.

Neither of you has said anything.

This morning, on the tarmac, the sky’s the color of the Pacific, soft gray-blue, streaked with sunlight, like someone dragged their fingers through it. You walk toward the jet with your helmet under your arm and a lazy kind of swagger that drives him insane.

Bob is already waiting, running preflight. He hears your steps before he sees you.

“Morning, Flyboy.”

He turns, and God help him, you’re smiling. Not a big one, not like the ones you throw Rooster when you’re teasing, or the bright ones Phoenix gets when she’s kicking Hangman’s ass in a sim. No, this one’s just for him. Subtle. Real.

His hands pause on the panel.

“You’re late.”

You raise a brow. “You’re early.”

He shrugs, looks back down at the jet like it matters. “Wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”

Your voice dips, warm like whiskey. “You calling me high-maintenance, Floyd?”

He flushes. Stutters. “No—no, I—”

You laugh, soft and surprised, like you didn’t expect to get that out of him so easily. “Relax. I like it when you're nervous.”

He says nothing.

What could he say?

I think about you every night before I sleep? I replay every flight, every brush of your hand, like it’s scripture? I’ve been in love with you since day three?

So instead, he climbs into the jet and double-checks your oxygen levels.

In the air, you’re like poetry.

You take corners like you’re dancing. Pull into dives with the kind of grace he’s only ever seen in nature, like birds or storms or the ocean at dawn. Bob watches you from behind, one gloved hand hovering by the throttle, the other pressing the radio.

“Looking good, Spook,” he murmurs.

You smile without turning. “Aww, Flyboy. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He swears he hears Hangman laugh over the channel.

Bob clears his throat and looks back at his screen. His heart is loud in his helmet.

After landing, when the others are walking ahead to the locker rooms, you fall into step beside him.

It’s quiet again. But that kind of quiet Bob loves.

“You did good today,” you say after a minute.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.” You bump your shoulder lightly into his. His stomach flips. He wonders if you can feel the way he leans into it just a little too long. “You still nervous around me, Floyd?”

His voice is soft. “Always.”

You don’t respond, but your hand swings close to his, knuckles brushing. He doesn’t pull away.

Neither do you.

That night, Bob sits in his bunk with a journal he never shows anyone.

He writes down flight stats. Maneuvers. Fuel data. And then, in smaller handwriting, like he’s afraid the ink will betray him

She looked back at me before takeoff. I think she always does. I wish she’d stay.

Across the base, you lie still in the dark, listening to the faint hum of the A/C and the buzz of the vending machine down the hall.

Sleep doesn’t come easy tonight.

Not with the shape of his voice still tucked behind your ear, and the way he always leaves a little extra space on the ladder, like he’s waiting for you to catch up.

You close your eyes and see his hands. Careful, steady. Always holding something invisible.

You wonder what it would feel like if it were you.

The storm rolls in out of nowhere.

That coastal kind of wild, thick sky, wind like a punch, lightning cracking in silhouette. Half the squadron’s grounded before they even make it off the tarmac. And your jet’s tucked away in the hangar, warm and dry, but completely useless.

Bob pulls his helmet off with both hands, curls of damp blond hair sticking to his forehead.

“We’re not getting out of here for a while.”

You sigh, pulling off your gloves with your teeth. “Damn. And I was looking forward to fighting for my life at 30,000 feet.”

There’s a beat. Rain slams into the hangar roof like it’s got something to prove.

Outside, someone’s truck backfires. Probably Rooster’s. Hangman’s already making jokes. Phoenix is haggling over vending machine snacks.

You sit on a crate, tugging your flight suit down to your waist, tank top sticking to your skin.

Bob looks like he’s trying very hard not to look at you.

“You cold?” you ask, half-sincere, half-testing.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m good.”

You smile, barely. "You always say that."

There’s only one truck back to base tonight. Everyone else finds a ride, Hangman with Coyote, Phoenix and Rooster squished into Payback’s ridiculous little Subaru.

You and Bob?

You get stuck behind.

It’s quiet now.

Stormy dusk bleeding into navy blue, rain still hammering the roof in a steady rhythm. Bob’s sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, flipping through the manual like he doesn’t have it memorized. You’re pacing. Slowly. Like something inside you’s moving too fast.

“You hungry?” he asks, not looking up.

You pause. “Not really.”

“Me neither.” He hesitates. “But I brought one of those granola bars you like.”

You blink. “The cherry almond kind?”

He nods without meeting your eyes. Holds it out like an offering.

You take it.

You sit beside him, knees not quite touching.

Twenty minutes pass like a sigh.

Bob reads. You pick at the wrapper. He clears his throat.

“You ever think about what it’d be like... to not do this?”

You glance over. “Fly?”

“Yeah. The Navy. The pressure. All of it.”

You tilt your head back against the crate behind you. “Sometimes. Usually when we’re pulling 7 Gs and I think I’m gonna puke.”

He huffs a laugh. “Same.” Then, quieter: “But then I think about days like today.”

You turn to look at him. “Rainy and grounded?”

“No.” He finally meets your eyes. “Flying with you.”

Your chest goes still. Like the storm stopped inside you, just for a second.

You want to say something, anything, but the words get caught somewhere in your throat.

So you offer the granola bar back to him instead.

He breaks off a piece. Your fingers brush. He flinches, like the contact startled him.

You pretend you didn’t notice. Even though it’s all you can notice.

Later, the lights flicker.

You both look up.

“Power must’ve gone out,” you say, unnecessarily.

Bob nods. “Shouldn’t be long.”

You shift closer to him instinctively. Just a little. Just enough to count.

It’s quiet. Not tense, just full.

Full of things you haven’t said. Of all the times his hand hovered near your back when you climbed the ladder. All the glances across the ready room. All the almosts.

He speaks first.

“You ever think maybe—” He cuts off. “Never mind.”

You nudge him with your knee. “Maybe what?”

Bob shakes his head. “It’s dumb.”

“Bob.”

He closes the manual. Sets it aside like it’s too heavy now.

“Maybe it’s not just flying I don’t want to lose.”

You look at him.

Really look.

The hangar light flickers again. Thunder cracks like a warning.

You say, so quietly it barely counts:

“Me too.”

And that’s it. No kiss. No confession. Just two people sitting on a hangar floor, sharing a granola bar, rain tapping the roof like Morse code.

But it feels like something.

It feels like a shift.

A holding pattern, sure, but maybe next time, you’ll land.

You wake up stiff, aching, and warm.

Bob’s jacket is around your shoulders, too big, sleeves bunched up to your wrists, the collar soft with wear. It smells like jet fuel and cedar soap and the weird, sweet nothingness that is him.

At some point last night, you must’ve drifted off on the hangar floor. He did too, slouched against the wall, one leg stretched long, the other bent, chin tucked to his chest.

The storm is gone.

The world is pale and quiet in the way it only gets just before sunrise. The kind of light that makes everything look like it’s waiting for something.

You don’t move.

You just sit there, wrapped in Bob’s hoodie, listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights and the distant squawk of gulls outside.

Eventually, Bob stirs. His eyes blink open, slow and owlish. He stretches, winces, notices you watching him.

“Morning,” he says, voice low and gravel-soft.

“Hey,” you whisper back.

He looks down at the jacket around your shoulders, then back up, slightly pink.

“Sorry. You were shivering.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s… Thanks.”

There’s a pause.

And then you say, gently:

“You always take care of me.”

Bob’s mouth opens like he’s going to deflect, say something dumb or self-deprecating, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just nods.

“You take care of me too.”

It’s quiet after that.

The kind of quiet that says everything’s shifted, but no one wants to startle it.

The truck finally arrives mid-morning. Phoenix hops out of the passenger seat and gives you a look like you good? You give her a look like later. Bob loads the gear like it’s muscle memory, avoiding your gaze but staying close.

When he helps you into the truck bed, his hand lingers at your back.

You think about that all the way back to base.

You don’t see him the rest of the day.

You both get assigned separate pre-flights, different trainers. You wonder if he’s avoiding you or just busy. You wonder why that stings.

Later, you find his jacket still folded on your bunk. He must’ve dropped it off during your briefing.

On top of it, a granola bar. Cherry almond.

Folded underneath, a note. Scrawled in Bob’s neat, awkward handwriting.

Thought you might be cold again.

I’ll be in the sim room tonight. Just in case.

You read it three times.

You don’t go.

Not because you don’t want to.

But because your heart is thudding too loud in your chest and you’re afraid if you see him, really see him, you’ll say something stupid.

Like don’t leave again. Like stay the night. Like I think I want you to kiss me.

Instead, you write back.

See you tomorrow. Save me a seat.

You leave it tucked inside the pocket of his flight suit.

Bob finds it the next morning, just before warm-up.

He reads it, folds it up, presses it into the inside cover of his journal.

Then he smiles, just a little. Just enough to count.

The sim room smells like coffee and jet oil and a hint of someone’s off-brand cologne. You’re early. So is Bob.

He’s standing at the control panel, fiddling with his headset, glasses pushed up into his curls. The simulator’s screens are still dark. Outside, the sky’s starting to smudge purple.

“Hey,” he says when he hears you.

“Hey,” you say, voice lighter than you feel.

You take the copilot’s seat beside him. Close, like always. Closer, maybe.

Bob’s legs are longer than yours. One of them brushes yours under the desk. Neither of you moves.

The sim loads.

You start the mission. Standard approach, familiar territory. You and Bob in sync, calling coordinates, updating status, ticking boxes. It’s smooth. Too smooth.

And then, turbulence.

Not real, but simulated. Unexpected.

Your console flickers. You lurch slightly forward.

“Whoa—”

His hand flies out and catches you.

Fingers splay over your ribcage.

Just for a second.

Just long enough.

You freeze.

Bob does too.

His hand stays there, warm through your flight suit, palm over your side like a tether. You turn your head. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, breath caught.

“Sorry,” he says, barely a whisper.

You shake your head, equally quiet. “It’s okay.”

But he doesn’t let go. Not yet.

There’s something unsaid sitting heavy in the space between your mouths. Not even a breath away.

And then.

“Pilot One, altitude dropping—”

The console voice crackles, breaking the spell.

Bob pulls back like he’s been burned. His hand drops to his lap. He stares forward, ears red, jaw clenched.

“You good?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Fine,” he mutters.

But he’s not. You can see it. Feel it.

Neither are you.

You finish the sim. Land the jet clean. Call the end of the exercise with the same forced calm you use when your hands won’t stop shaking.

He logs the results. You shut down the system. Neither of you speak.

You walk out together, side by side, the hallway lit with that same bluish hum. When you reach the locker room doors, you hesitate.

“Bob,” you say.

He stops.

Turns.

Eyes soft. Scared. Hopeful. Tired.

You don’t say what you want to.

You don’t say you can touch me again. You don’t say I wanted you to keep holding on. You don’t say I think about you all the time.

You just say

“Thanks. For catching me.”

He nods, slow.

“Anytime.”

You part ways. Locker rooms. Showers. Briefings. Dinner.

But when you’re lying in your bunk later that night, wrapped up in the same silence you’ve carried all day, you touch your side where he held you.

Like maybe the shape of his hand is still there.

Like maybe it always has been.

It’s weird, not flying with Bob.

Not wrong, exactly. You’re a professional. He’s still on base, still training, still just a few hangars away. But it feels like the air shifts without him in the backseat, like the jet flies fine but not quite right. Like muscle memory tripping over a heartbeat.

The switch wasn’t personal. Scheduling conflict, maybe. A re-routed assignment. You didn’t ask. He didn’t explain. All you know is when you checked the flight log that morning, someone else’s name was listed as your WSO.

And his name was missing.

Your new WSO is capable. Sharp. Quick on comms. He does everything right.

But he doesn’t know how you like your patterns called out. Doesn’t echo your thoughts mid-maneuver like Bob does. Doesn��t glance up at you through the canopy after a perfect landing like he’s proud of you in secret.

You miss that.

You miss him.

Bob’s been quieter, too. Around the locker room. The mess. Even in briefings. He’s not avoiding you, exactly, but he’s not seeking you out either. The silence between you has stretched, uncertain and loaded. Like you’re both waiting for the other to say something first.

And neither of you does.

You catch a glimpse of him two days later on the tarmac, post-run. He’s halfway through a bottle of water, sleeves rolled up, curls damp with sweat. There’s a red mark on his jaw, helmet, maybe, and his eyes are on the horizon like he’s somewhere else entirely.

You open your mouth.

You almost call out.

But then your new WSO claps you on the back, says something loud and dumb, and Bob flinches like the sound hit a bruise. He walks away before you can stop him.

That night, you find yourself in the hangar.

It’s mostly empty, just a few shadows and the hum of after-hours maintenance. One of the jets, the one you flew today, is parked under a dim light.

You rest your hand on its nose cone and stare at the stars through the open bay.

“Miss me already?” a voice says behind you.

Your heart lurches.

You turn.

Bob’s standing there, hands in his jacket pockets, expression unreadable.

You try to joke. “You wish.”

He half-smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

That quiet hits you hard.

You swallow. “Why’d they pull you from the rotation?”

He shrugs. “Said they needed me to run backup sims. Training the newer guys.”

You nod. “Makes sense.”

Neither of you says what you’re thinking.

Makes sense. But it sucked. Makes sense. But I wanted to look over my shoulder and see you. Makes sense. But nothing else felt right.

You sit on the edge of the wing. He stands next to you.

The hangar is all hush and echoes.

Then he says it, softly

“I don’t like not flying with you.”

It’s not dramatic. Not even particularly romantic. But it hits you harder than anything has in days.

You nod, slowly.

“Me neither.”

There’s a long pause. Then

“I’m sorry,” Bob says.

You look up. “For what?”

“For leaving you in the air without me.”

Something cracks open in your chest.

“I don’t feel steady without you,” you whisper.

His breath catches.

Then, gently, he leans his arm against yours. Barely a touch. But it’s enough.

“I’ll be back in your backseat soon,” he says, voice low and certain.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You close your eyes.

And for the first time in days, you feel your heart start to level out again.

The base wakes before dawn, but you’re already tangled in thought, and maybe a little frustration.

Bob didn’t show up to breakfast.

No text, no word. Just silence that hums louder than the engines on the flight line.

You sip cold coffee, eyes on the muted chatter of the mess hall, but all you can hear is the thrum of your own heartbeat, tight, impatient, restless.

He’s been distant since the hangar night, like there’s a wall he’s building brick by brick, and every time you try to reach him, the mortar’s fresh and unyielding.

Later, you’re suiting up for another sim run. Your new WSO is ready, calm, competent , but he isn’t Bob.

You glance over at the empty seat beside you, where the cockpit light never flickers without him.

You fight down the ache curling in your chest, because this mission is important. Because professionalism means showing up even when your heart is jamming on stall warning.

You taxi down the runway, engines roaring to life, but it’s the silence in your headset that’s deafening.

Mid-flight, something goes wrong in the sim, a sudden mechanical failure on the enemy’s side. Your fingers tighten on the stick, muscles tense, and instinct takes over.

“Bandit at your six!” you bark into the comm.

“Copy that,” comes a voice you don’t recognize. It lacks the familiar edge you crave.

You’re scrambling, trying to shake the imaginary tail, but inside you’re scrambling for Bob, his voice, his steady calm, his fierce presence.

A bead of sweat runs down your temple. You miss him.

Hours later, back on the ground, you find him in the briefing room, eyes dark and jaw tight.

He’s barely spoken all day, swallowed behind a mask of professionalism.

You clear your throat.

“Hey,” you say softly. “We need to talk.”

He looks up, startled, like you broke some unspoken truce.

“What about?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “This… us. The distance. The silence.”

Bob’s gaze flickers, like a storm barely contained.

“It’s not that simple,” he mutters.

You cross the room and stand in front of him, heart on your sleeve, voice shaking but determined.

“It is that simple. We don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

He looks at you, eyes searching, and for the first time in days, you see the truth shining beneath the surface:

He wants this too. But fear is tying his hands.

The air between you thickens, heavy with everything unsaid.

You reach out, brushing your fingers against his.

He doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he sighs, low and rough.

“Why is it so damn hard?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

You smile, bittersweet.

“Because it’s worth it.”

And just like that, the dogfight shifts from the skies to your hearts, a battle for courage, for honesty, for the quiet, messy beauty of letting someone in.

The squadron’s quiet buzz hums through the ready room, but all you feel is the weight of the moment pressing against your ribs.

Bob sits beside you, closer than before, but the space between you still tastes like a question unanswered.

You both know that whatever was there last night, no, whatever’s been there for months is waiting to be named. Waiting to take shape beyond stolen glances and tentative touches.

You glance at him. His jaw clenched, eyes locked on the briefing screen, but you see it, the hesitation. The part of him that’s still afraid to cross the line.

You clear your throat.

“Hey,” you say softly, voice barely above the hum of the room.

He turns, eyes meeting yours, surprised but steady.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you say. “The almost, the maybe, the silence.”

Bob exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for too long.

“I know,” he admits. “But it’s not easy.”

You nod, heart pounding.

“Nothing worth it ever is.”

The briefing ends, and you walk side by side to the hangar, the sun filtering through the windows casting long shadows that seem to reach for you both.

Your fingers brush, light, accidental, but this time neither pulls away.

“Why did you stop coming around?” you ask quietly.

Bob’s eyes flicker, vulnerability softening his usual edge.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “Scared of what this could mean. Scared of what I might lose.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully.

“You won’t lose me.”

His gaze drops to your hands entwined, then back to your face.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “Not with you.”

You smile, something gentle and fierce blooming in your chest.

“Then let’s stop pretending. Let’s take the risk.”

That night, the base hums a quieter tune.

You find yourselves on the roof, under a sky strewn with stars, vast and endless, like the possibility before you.

Bob reaches for your hand, fingers trembling slightly, and you squeeze back, steady and sure.

You don’t need words.

The silence between you says everything

This is the beginning.

You lean in slowly, breath mingling, hearts racing, and for the first time, the line you’ve both been afraid to cross becomes the bridge you’re ready to walk.

The morning light seeps softly through the blinds, painting the room in muted gold. You wake before Bob, your fingers still laced with his, the warmth lingering like a secret promise.

His breathing is slow, steady, a rhythm that somehow feels like home.

You watch his face, the way his brow smooths, how his lashes flutter, delicate and vulnerable. It’s a side of him few get to see, and it makes your heart swell with something deeper than you expected.

When Bob stirs, his eyes open to meet yours, wide and raw and honest.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice husky with sleep and something more.

“Morning,” you reply, voice barely a whisper, afraid to shatter the fragile bubble you both inhabit.

There’s a long pause, the kind of silence that isn’t empty but full of everything you don’t say yet.

Bob’s hand tightens around yours, thumb brushing your knuckles like a question.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits, eyes searching yours for forgiveness or understanding.

“You don’t have to be,” you say. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He smiles then, slow and shy, like he’s afraid to believe it’s real. And maybe it isn’t perfect, maybe it’s messy and uncertain, but it’s yours.

Later, the base feels different.

Every glance between you carries a new weight, every touch lingers longer.

You walk down the hallways with a secret shared just between the two of you, like you’re part of something no one else understands.

During briefings, you catch Bob’s eye and see the spark that’s always been there, only now, it’s not just longing; it’s something steadier, more fierce.

After drills, when the adrenaline fades and the world quiets, you find your way to each other again.

One afternoon, you’re sitting on the wing of the jet, the sky a brilliant blue canvas.

Bob sits beside you, helmet set aside, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Ever wonder what it’d be like,” he says softly, “if we didn’t have to keep it all so guarded?”

You turn to him, heart quickening.

“I do,” you confess. “More than anything.”

He laughs quietly, a sound full of warmth and relief.

“Me too.”

For a moment, the world shrinks down to just the two of you, breath mingling, laughter light and free.

And then, almost without thinking, Bob’s hand finds yours again, fingers weaving together like they belong.

That night, in the quiet dark of the bunk, you lie awake, the afterglow of the day wrapping around you.

It’s not fireworks or grand declarations, just a steady, simmering warmth, the kind that roots deep and promises more.

You don’t need to say the words aloud.

You already know.

The day starts normal, but the air feels heavier, thick with the kind of silence that’s waiting to snap.

You and Bob are prepping for a joint training mission, the kind that demands every ounce of trust and synchronicity you’ve been building. But underneath the routine checklists and briefings, something feels off.

Maybe it’s the way Bob’s eyes flicker away when you glance at him. Or how his jaw tightens just a little too much when the instructor calls out formations.

You want to reach for him, steady him like he’s steadying you. But there’s that wall again, the one you thought you’d chipped away with every quiet moment.

The mission begins with familiar drills, engines roaring to life, the world narrowing to speed and precision.

You’re locked in your cockpit, the steady hum of the jet syncing with the pounding in your chest.

Bob’s voice comes through the comms, clear, but clipped.

“Ready when you are.”

You respond, heart thudding.

The sky blurs around you, adrenaline sharp and bright. You move together, two halves of the same pulse, perfect in motion.

But when you land, the air is still thick with unspoken words.

Later, in the dim glow of the briefing room, you catch Bob alone, staring at a map like it holds the answers.

“I messed up,” he says without looking up.

You step closer. “What happened?”

He swallows, voice tight. “I lost focus during the run. Missed a call. Could’ve put us both at risk.”

You shake your head. “We all mess up.”

“But this—this felt different,” he admits. “Like I’m carrying more than just the mission.”

Your heart clenches. “Bob…”

He finally looks at you, eyes raw and vulnerable. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing you. Of not being enough. Of what this means—us.”

You reach out, fingers brushing his cheek.

“You’re enough,” you whisper. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like it’s a lifeline.

That night, the tension hasn’t lifted, but something’s shifted.

You find yourselves sitting side by side, neither speaking, just sharing space.

Bob’s hand finds yours again, tentative but desperate.

And in that quiet grasp, all the fear and hope and longing swirl together.

It’s messy.

It’s real.

It’s yours.

The base is quiet in the early hours, a fragile calm that feels almost sacred.

You’re leaning against your jet, the dawn light soft against the glass. Bob slides in beside you, the world outside still waking, but beside him, time slows.

His eyes catch yours, no words needed. The space between you is charged, filled with every unsaid confession and yearning.

“Talk to me,” you finally whisper, voice trembling just a little.

Bob’s gaze drops, then lifts again, steady, sure.

“I’ve been scared,” he admits. “Scared of losing control. Scared of what this means. But mostly... scared of losing you.”

Your heart twists, but you reach for him, fingers threading through his.

“You’re not losing me,” you say softly. “We’re in this together.”

He smiles, small, genuine, and it breaks through every wall he’s built.

The jet rocks gently as he moves closer, breath mingling with yours.

“I want you,” he breathes, voice low and raw. “Not just when the world falls apart, but when it’s quiet. When it’s real.”

You lean in, the distance dissolving, lips brushing in a hesitant, trembling kiss that blooms into something fierce and tender.

In that kiss is everything, the fear, the hope, the long nights and silent battles.

When you finally pull apart, the world feels different.

Brighter.

Clearer.

You rest your forehead against his, breath mingling, heart pounding the same rhythm.

“We don’t have to have it all figured out,” you say.

Bob nods. “No. Just... this.”

Outside, the sky is vast and endless, a promise of more flights, more moments, more love.

And inside this small cockpit, you both know you’ve finally found your safe place.

Ao3

#tgm #bob floyd #top gun maverick #bob floyd x reader #my baby #he is so dear to me #touch and go #finally finished this #its kind of shitty im sorry #but cutesie bob fluff #a bit of angst too my baby has so many walls

377 notes · View notes

ruesol · 4 months ago

Text

ex-convict!Sukuna drops whatever he’s doing (killing a man) and runs to you after you text him for some much needed comfort.

(part of my ex-convict!Sukuna x academically burnt out reader series.)

cw: fem/afab reader, explicit sexual content, stiff sex talk, slight dom behavior on Sukuna’s part, and of course, attempted murder

——

Sukuna’s knuckles ache because of the force he just put on them.

The man in front of Sukuna looks haggard, blood dripping out his mouth and pooling on the cool, wet tar. Sukuna’s jeep is still parked out back, and in it was the money he had brought for the exchange of a particular package.

“Fucking hell,” the man groaned as he used his elbows to to lift his torso off the ground. “Still didn’t think you had it in you, Ryomen.”

Pathetic. Even with an almost broken nose and bruised eye, his opponent found some repulsive thrill in mocking Sukuna.

“You said you’d give me what I needed if I had the money. Why’d you try to pick a fight instead?” Sukuna walked over to the man, gun in hand as he clicked it. “I thought I told you I didn’t want any funny business. Got locked up once already and I’m not afraid to do it again.”

The man’s elbows trembled as he tried his best to summon up whatever pride he had left after getting beaten up by his former accomplice. “Shoot me. You know shit won’t end well for you even when you’re locked up. I’ve got people everywhere,” he chuckled, spraying blood on Sukuna’s boots that were now face to face with him.

Sukuna kneels down on one knee and cocks the gun in the middle of the man’s forehead. “You have some nerve to be talking up a storm right now.”

“Just get it over with, Ryomen,” the man barked.

Sukuna pushes the barrel onto the man’s forehead, making him hiss when the gunpowder makes contact with his skin. “Fine,”

His finger presses against the trigger and—

Vibrations. His phone vibrates in the loose pocket of his jacket. His victim looks confused. “Chickening out alread—“

Sukuna hits the man’s temple with the gun. That’ll knock him out for a while. He fishes his phone out and his heart lurches when he sees that it’s a couple texts from you.

come over. Right now

Please

His heart and mind conflict again. On one hand, he has to finish his pathetic job and on the other hand, you’re waiting for him at your apartment.

All soft, and probably teary like you usually are.

And forget the word ‘please,’ you never texted more than two words to him. Ever. It was always either “your place” or “not today.”

Sukuna stares at the passed out man on the road and debates on whether he should throw him into the woods or just leave him be.

In the end, he decided that he’d just leave the man be. They were in the middle of nowhere anyway and cops didn’t patrol the area as often. And even if they do find him, it’s not like they’ll get involved anyway—the giant tattoo on his arm was enough to prove that his condition was a product of gang violence.

Well, that, and you were a little impatient (as much as you never admitted to it.)

His friend called him smart—using a young and insecure college girl for ‘pussy’ (as he put it.)

But deep down inside, he knew it was more than that. His vehement heart gushed when he’d see you cling to him with tears in your eyes, body soft and warm for the taking and heart broken beyond compare.

The fact that you needed him to stabilize your mind spoke volumes to him. It reminds him that you wanted him in your life as much as he did you.

Though his desperation wasn’t as veiled as yours. You were quick to push him away after you’d get what you needed.

His truck juxtaposed with the other much smaller cars at the guest lot at your apartment complex; just like in reality, where he starkly stood out wherever he went. Shoulders too broad, height too towering, and face too rugged with scars and tattoos. The universe’s spotlight shines on him every time he makes a move.

Sukuna takes a gulp of water from the crinkly plastic bottle in his cup holder and swishes it around in his mouth so he could clean up the taste of blood. He walks over to a nearby bush and spits it out. Viscous carmine smears the myrtle leaves, weighing them down as each drop of blood drips into sod.

After getting into your apartment building’s elevator and pressing the button for your floor, he wipes his mouth one last time while staring at his blurred reflection on the dirty mirror wall to get rid of the wetness left behind.

He lives life in segments. There was before you—jail, during you—the arrangement you both have now, and maybe, if he fucks up or goes back to jail—after you.

He didn’t want to imagine what that would be like. In his mind, your existence was hauntingly infinite, reaching into his brain’s every crevice and immersing it in your scent.

Maybe it’s because he’s had to rely on his senses to navigate difficult situations for a long time, but he feels like he can smell traces of you as soon as he reaches your door. His cock aches against his jeans when he’s reminded that your shampoo still lingers on his pillow.

And how he touches himself to it at night.

He doesn’t knock and only sends you a text that he’s standing right outside.

You open the door a moment later, with your hair a mess and your T-shirt a size too big for you.

The picture of Sailor Moon on it rids him of vestigial jealousy because now he knows that it doesn’t belong to another man.

Your eyes are glassy and your face is swollen. If you didn’t shut him out as often he would’ve asked you what happened. But all he can reckon is that something or someone must’ve hurt you badly enough to call him to your apartment for the first time.

You wear your heart on your sleeve but you never speak out the words to Sukuna. But that’s enough for him. A temporary salve for the perpetual ache in the core of his chest.

He digs his blunt fingers into his palm to rid himself of the itch to comfort you by holding your waist and stroking your hair.

Your gaze falls onto his mouth, making your shoulders tense up and your lips press into a line. Silent judgement. “Is that blood?”

“Uhh..” He wipes whatever remnants of dried blood he had on his mouth and dusts his hands on his thighs. “Do you care?”

“Not really.”

“Good.” He doesn’t want your thoughts to linger on its cause so he grabs the back of your neck and slots his mouth against yours.

His teeth ache at your sweetness even when he can taste the strong mint left behind by your toothpaste. ‘Cute,’ he thinks. You were preparing for him.

His tongue prods open your lips, running it along your tongue and the hollow of your mouth. Saliva drips down both your chins as he pushes you into your apartment and slams the door shut with a kick from his steel-toed boot.

His sloppy kisses swallow your groan as you fist his faded denim jacket and press your chest against his, only the thin barrier of your T-shirt standing between your bare breasts and his warm body.

He’s quick to slam your back to a wall, and when he finally pulls away to catch his breath, you see the ravenous look in his eyes, black void replacing red irises.

His hand trails down to the hem of your T-shirt, and rucks it up to your collar.

And for a moment, he simply stares at your semi-bare body. Tits flushed and nipples hardening with every passing second, panties dampened and inviting, and your scent—

So saccharine and musky.

“Up,” he orders. You gulp and diligently raise your hands, and he pulls your T-shirt off in one swift movement, discarding it in some random corner of your studio apartment.

He doesn’t even hear the ruffle of the fabric landing because the roaring of blood in his ears renders him selectively deaf—the only sounds he can hear are the slick movements of your tongue nervously stroking your bottom lip and your heavy breathing. His dick is painfully hard, and the sight of you only makes his patience edge closer to splintering.

His heady gaze moves from your breasts to your eyes and you immediately look away. Almost like you’re afraid he’ll see past the lust and know why you called him out of nowhere. Especially since your meetups were usually calculated.

A day after a bad exam.

Right after a study session with your judgemental friends.

Or right before an important quiz.

But this was out of the ordinary. He’d mull over it later. His dick was starting to take over his brain.

His large, calloused hand grasped your neck and lightly applied pressure to the column of your throat as he kissed you once again. This time, dragging his tongue along the outline of your bottom lip before pulling away.

He drags a single hand down your neck, to your sternum and at last, rests it on top of your clothed mons. The hand that was choking you groped your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he buries his nose in your neck and takes a deep whiff.

Your underwear isn’t that special—it’s just a random white pair that had been sitting in your unkempt closet, but to him, it felt like an invitation to stain it with his spend. He made a mental note to secretly snag it on his way out. The smell of your shampoo on his pillow was dwindling into nothingness anyway.

Sukuna’s fingers inched down to the damp gusset, pressing on your covered clit, making you gasp and grind slowly against his thick fingers. “Let’s go to my bed,” you huffed out with a frown.

He moved away from your neck, resting his nose against yours. “Not yet. I wanna do something first.” The metallic notes in his breath make you scrunch your nose.

Syzygy. He blocks out the dim cloudy afternoon glow in your room with the vastness of his shoulders. A behemoth in presence and practice.

Sukuna kisses your lips and then begins to trail his mouth down your body, branding plum-colored stains onto your neck and breasts. His tongue finds your nipple and his incisors lightly nip it before he gives it a hard suck, making your hands immediately move from his shoulders into his hair.

He grunts when you tug his hair to get his attention. “What are you doing? Let’s just fuck and get it over with.”

Foreplay wasn’t a common practice between you two. And even if one of you did initiate it, it wasn’t anything more than a light make out session.

Your usual hookups would start with a few tongue kisses, followed by fingering so you could take his girthy cock in your sore pussy, and then a quick “I’ll text you later” from you before both of you went your own ways.

You never gave him head and neither did he you. You weren’t there to enjoy, just get your fill and go. The painful stretch of his cock opening up your pussy was enough to make you temporarily forget about your perpetual worries.

You mewl when he slaps your clothed pussy. “I’ll give you what you want if you let me take what I need.”

It’s a demand. More predatory than imperative.

He hisses when you lightly tug his hair before answering, “fine.”

Without breaking eye contact, he gets down on his knees and tightly grasps your thigh in his large mit, fingers digging into the muscle and fat. He slots his mouth against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and you bite your lip.

The tip of his tongue darts out to lick all the way to the crux of your pelvis and rests it against your clothed cunt before situating your thigh on his shoulder, sodden pussy basically pushed to his mouth because of the force.

His eyes roll to the back of his head when the scent of your arousal engulfs him. He sucks the fabric of your panties, priming his tongue with your juices as his fingers undulate your ass.

“At least take them off first—fuck,” you groaned out. He doesn’t listen, though. Instead, he only sucks harder, tongue directly prodding at where your swollen clit is.

Sukuna was never a vocal man but the sounds escaping him sounded like they came from the depths of his carnal desire for your pussy. His groans reverberate through you as your head leans back against the wall, trying to find some stability as he takes you to the edge and brings you back over and and over again.

After what seems like forever (to you), Sukuna slots two fingers down the front of your panties and yanks the flimsy fabric down. And without much warning, he splits your pussy lips with thick fingers and licks up a stripe from your slick hole to your glistening clit. His tongue circled around your hole, licking away whatever arousal dripped out.

His fingers soon replaced his tongue, prepping you to take his cock soon. You could never get used to the feeling of his hefty middle and ring fingers inside your cunt. They were always too rough and long, reaching into the parts of your body that your smaller and daintier fingers couldn’t.

His tongue laps at your sensitive nub, kissing it at unexpected intervals before harshly sucking it again like he did with your nipple. His fingers curl when he finds the spot that makes you sing, and your teeth let go of your lips as your body tenses when the wave of an onset orgasm washes over you.

The knot in your core, snaps and you cry out your release as you roughly pull at his disheveled pink locks.

Your limbs shiver, making Sukuna only hold you tighter so you wouldn’t collapse. “I’ve come, that’s enough,” you rasp out through deep breaths.

But his obstinate self did not listen to you. At your cries, he pulls out his fingers, but continues licking and making out with your pussy, eating you out more for his pleasure than yours.

“Please, I’m really sensitive. Just—just fuck me already,” you groan.

He knows you want him gone. He knows that he’s made you feel good enough to the point where now you need him to come.

Something grotesque in him grins at the thought of ruining any man that comes after him in your life.

Not that it’ll ever happen, though. He’ll make sure of it no matter what.

You didn’t know it, but you were always going to be his girl. Even before you two had met. Life had been pushing you around for this very moment—where he’d take you and keep you for himself forever.

Everything about the situation is so perfect. You’re bare, limp and needy, and he’s clothed, has all the power and is the only man you’ll ever need.

When he stands up, you realize how much he holds over you with his figure. Strength in one of his hands alone renders you weak against him. With his eyes trained on yours, he drags his hands from your ass to the back of your thighs and hoists you up, resting your spine against the cold cemented wall once again.

He unzips his pants and pulls down his boxers, precome already staining them. He’s painfully hard and hisses when he pushes his stiff cock against your hole, notching his leaking head at your entrance.

Alarmed, you gaze up at him with furrowed brows and swollen lips. “What about the bed?”

“Too impatient. I’ll fuck you there later.”

Later.

Later never happened with you two. It was always strictly whatever you wanted. You dictated how many times you wanted to go. You always had all the control, and now, he was slowly pulling it out of your timid grasp.

Before you can ask him about his implication, he pushes himself into your quim completely, hissing at the tight muscle contracting around his length. You yowl as your hands wrap around his shoulders and the back of your head tips against the wall.

“Shit,” he mumbles into your neck.

“Just move and finish up,” you whisper, still breathing hard.

“No,” he’s quick to interject.

“No?” The stretch of your hole around his cock makes each second feel like agony. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Look me in the eye when I fuck you,” he dictates against your lips.

“Will you go after that?”

“Do you want my cock or not?”

When he pulls away, he waits for your eyes to meet his.

And when they do, he slowly pushes himself into you, your chest coming close enough for your breasts to press flat against his pecs.

You try not to think about why he suggested so in the first place.

It’s almost as if he feels rejuvenated after looking into your eyes, even when your breasts deliciously bounce as his hips pick up speed as his balls slap against your skin. Your walls clench tighter and tighter as he bullies his cock into you over and over again, precome priming you for his final spend.

Fat droplets of tears roll down your cheeks and he kisses them away before they can reach your jaw and roll down your neck. He licks a lone tear and savors the saltiness. You’re everywhere: on his mouth, skin, cock, and mind.

Infinite; red hot iron branding the imprint of your face in his brain so whenever he closes his eyes, you’re all he can see.

His thrusts get sloppier as he finishes, excess come dripping down your thighs, and his own. He groans into your mouth, kissing your tongue to sooth his semi-soft and sensitive cock as he pulls out of you.

The feeling of cool air against your thighs reminds you of the rivulet of combined juices dripping down your legs.

Before you can wobble your way to your bed to final rest your legs, Sukuna picks you up in one swift motion, uncaring that the fluid between your legs is dripping on his arm, and walks over to your bed and lays you down.

—

Turns out later, meant going three rounds in two hours.

After Sukuna had eaten you out and fucked you against the wall, he was insatiable. Only wanting more, going as far as to making you warm his cock in your pussy till he got hard again.

Spent and sweaty, you now slept soundly in his arms. Uncaring that he had pushed you to break every rule you had set up. That too, in your own home.

He clicked his teeth as he remembered your surprised face when he casually said that he wanted to fuck some more. As usual, you were wary of him at first, but when his fingers stroked your clit the way you liked, you were pliant and malleable for his bidding.

He glances around around, finally getting a good look at your abode.

It’s not what he imagined it to be. It’s a mess: takeout containers stuffed to the brim in tightly tied plastic bags, cans of energy drinks huddled around your computer on the desk in the far corner of the room. Polaroids of your friends lay haphazardly on your coffee table, seemingly untouched with the film of dust gathering on them.

For a college student, the decoration is bleak and the lack of a living room makes him feel like there’s no space for him in your apartment. Much like your heart.

But that’s okay, he will take whatever he can get. Even if he can’t quell the curiosity has about your life away from him.

So he decides to put an end to it (only for this instance.) With only his boxers on, he walks to your computer, which, surprisingly, does not have a password.

He browses around, only finding assignments for classes that seem too complicated for him to understand. Maybe even for you too, with the way you’ve been sleeping with him more often than before.

And then he finds it—the reason why you called him to your sanctuary, the one place he was never allowed to step foot in.

An internship rejection email.

——

If you’re seeing this, thank you for reading!!

884 notes · View notes

nayrring · 1 year ago

Text

Obanai after getting scolded by mitsuri for mistreating tanjiro during training :

#he is soo into her #oh to have somebody to look at me the way obanai looks at mitsuri #mitsuri please kiss this man already #he is touch starved #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny spoilers #iguro obanai #mitsuri kanroji #obamitsu #tanjiro #hashira training arc #obanai × mitsuri #kny memes #kny × reader #kny fluff #kny angst #kny manga #demon slayer × reader

1K notes · View notes

firelilyfox · 12 days ago

Text

Being close to you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (Red Room Widow) Summary: Bucky gets back from his first mission after he joined the Avengers. He struggles to let go of his past and he struggles to be touched. But the only thing he really wants, is to be close to you. Wordcount: 1.6k Warnings: hurt/comfort. mention of trauma. mention of anxiety. heart to heart talk. Bucky and Reader being in love. mention of having a found family with the Avengers. Reader being a Widow (Red Room).

__________________________________

The night was calm in the Avengers Tower.

Soothing background music was playing and the buzzing of soft chatter filled the living room with life. Everyone had gathered to celebrate the homecoming of Steve and Bucky, after they accomplished to safe hundreds of innocent citizens from another attack.

The bad guys apparently never sleep, but neither do the good ones.

„Who wants another round?“, Tony asked into the crowd of superheroes.

Natasha and Clint raised their empty cups almost simultaneously. You looked around and smiled. Everyone was enjoying themselves. There was Thor playing a card game with Bruce and Steven Strange, looking very confused about something the two Doctors were discussing. He was not having it and emptied is beer at once.

Peter and Ned were standing on the side, making wild gestures while telling a story to Wanda, wich made her laugh. Tony kissing Pepper on the cheek. Rhodey nodding politely about something that Scott just said. Most likely a very dull joke.

„These are the nights I missed the most“, Steve said standing beside you with his arms crossed.

„You two were gone for a few weeks. That’s longer than usual.“ You mentioned, trying not to give away the worry you felt for mentioned weeks.

„It was … a lot. But it all worked out at the end.“

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. „How is he?“

Steve sighted. „He’s exhausted, I think. You know he had some really bad days, while we were away. And I think he feels just as relieved to be home as I am.“

Bucky.

Your mind kept spiraling on the last words he said to you before he entered that damn plane on the rooftop. I will miss you, love. Please don’t leave.

What does that even mean? Leave? Where in the world would you go? Especially without … him. You have been part of the Avengers for about six months now and only because you knew Natasha from the Red Room. She dragged you into this weird family of superhumans, gods and sorcerers to be a part of them. And even if you would never assumed to find something like that again … it really felt like one big, awkward family.

You would never leave your found family. And you would never leave him. Bucky Barnes. The man, that managed to make you act like a fourteen year old school girl, with a racing heart and flushed cheeks, as soon as he looked in your direction.

„Do you know where he is?“ You didn’t have to search for him between the others, because his absence was the first thing you noticed from the beginning.

I will miss you. Is what he said before he left. And now you miss him so much it hurts in your chest.

„Yeah. He is outside on the balcony. I think he wanted to catch some air, before he joins these weirdos“, Steve said with a smile, watching his friends acting like idiots. Sam just started dancing. And by god, he was not good at it.

You wanted to turn on your heal, to search for Bucky, when Steve reached out to hold you back. For a moment he said nothing and then he smiled. „He never stopped talking about you. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but … I’m really glad he has you.“

At first you wanted to deny any assumptions about unspoken feelings but then something in your heart unclenched. Something so deep, it calmed your thoughts and silenced the insecure teenage girl.

„Thanks, Cap.“ You gave him a smile and left the ongoing party.

The wind blew through your hair as soon as you closed the door behind you and stepped outside into the night. Deep below you, the soft sounds of the New York City nightlife. High above you, the clear sky with its sparkling stars. And right in front of you, Bucky leaning on the balcony border.

His broad shoulders seemed tense, but he still hasn’t noticed you yet. You stepped closer and gently laid your hand on his shoulder blade.

He flinched.

„I’m sorry. I didn’t wanted to scare you“, You apologized instantly.

Bucky sighted in relief. „Don’t be sorry, doll. I-I’m still a little on edge, that’s all.“

He turned around to face you and you felt your heart do some funny things again. You couldn’t help it. Bucky had the unique capacity to make you nervous, even if you were trained to never feel that way.

„I’m glad you’re back, Bucky.“ You said after a moment of silence. „And Steve too, of course!“

Bucky chuckled. „Yeah me too. This was the first time I headed out to a mission after …“ He hesitated, wrenched his bionic fingers and looked away into the night. „Since I got my memories back. Weird at first. To be with Steve again, you know? To do something good.“

You nodded slightly. „You can be proud of yourself.“

„I try.“ He wrenched his hands again.

Without thinking you touched his bionic hand, to give him some reassurance. But when Bucky flinched again; slightly, almost not noticeable but you noticed it anyway. „Oh, shit I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking … I“

You stepped back to bring some space between you two, but Bucky reached out to prevent you from getting to far away from him.

„Don’t apologize, love. Please. I’m the one that should be sorry.“ He muttered and looked at you with regretful eyes. „I’m not used to this.“

„What do you mean?“

He swallowed. „My reaction to contact. I was talking to Steve and he helped me to figure out this shit my body does when someone touches me. Apparently I associate touch with hurt.“

Tears threatened to blur your vision, but you blinked them away and collect your upcoming feelings. „I understand. Thank you for telling me, Bucky. I’ll remember that and it won’t happen again.“

Bucky, still holding you by the wrist, shakes his head. „That’s the problem. I want you to.“

„What?“

He stepped a bit closer. His eyes deep as a ocean, full of unspoken thoughts. „I want you near me, doll. The whole time I’ve spend away, I wished to be back here. With you. Near you. I was afraid you wouldn’t be here when I return.“

„You said that you didn’t want me to leave. I failed to understand. Even now.“ Your tongue was slow. Never had you been this close to him.

„I was scared you would move on. Every time I got put back on ice, all the familiar faces around me vanished. Sometimes because I forgot them and sometimes because years had been passed and they moved on. And even if they were all horrible people … these were the only faces I knew at the time.“ Bucky ran his hand through his hair. „Any time I turn around, somebody leaves. I guess, I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be one of them.“

For a moment you held his gaze without moving a muscle, processing what he just said. Then you slowly raised your hand, exchanging a look to ask for permission to touch him. Bucky nodded. You took his right hand from holding your wrist, to resting on your racing heart and guided his bionic hand to your waist.

The whole time you’ve watched his expressions, to make sure not to trigger something hidden deep in the back of his mind. He swallowed and clenched his jaw, but according to the look in his eyes, the contact didn’t made him feel uncomfortable.

„I won’t leave. Never. And I want you to feel my heartbeat so you can be sure I’m not lying.“

„But it’s not steady at all, doll. Your heart is racing.“ He sounded alarmed and his eyes widened.

You chuckled. Caught red handed. Of course you forgot about the impact he has on you. Not the best timing. „But not because I’m lying. It’s racing because …“ Your failed to say it out loud, so you cleared your throat for a second try. „Because of you.“

Bucky froze. His entire body was still for a moment, he didn’t even breathe. And your heart skipped a beat. And yet another. Bucky looked down to his hand, which was still resting on your chest. As if he could feel the beat-skipping.

Then he met your gaze again and his eyes went soft. His handsome face relaxed and his lips partend in realization. Slowly his right hand liftet from your heart and cupped your cheek. His thumb caressed the skin right beneath your eye. For a endless moment he just looked at you, holding you like this. The world around you went silent.

„I’ve missed you so much, love“, he whispered just a few inches away from your lips. You closed your eyes to let yourself get lost in his scent.

„I missed you too, Bucky.“

He tensed. „I want to kiss you.“ Your eyes met again and you could see his fear in them. „But I don’t know if I can. I want it to feel it the right way.“

You let your hands wander from his arms, over his shoulder and chest, to his back. Slowly and without loosing contact, so he could track them at all time.

„It’s okay. We don’t have to rush things. We have all the time in the world.“

Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, still holding you like a treasure close to him. „I want to spend this time getting close to you, love. I promise I’ll get better for you.“

„You won’t have to face it alone. Never again, Bucky. I promise.“

_________________

Thanks for reading! 💙All interactions are highly appreciated (but please don't copy my work)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

275 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 7 days ago

Text

Unseen, Yet Unforgotten

Summary: As an adeptus unseen by those who do not know you, your existence has always been one of quiet solitude—except for Zhongli and Xiao, the only ones who remember you. For centuries, your bond with Xiao has been unwavering, a constant in an ever-changing world. But when Xiao begins to act differently around you—lingering gazes, unspoken hesitations—you both realize that something is shifting. As feelings neither of you fully understand begin to surface, you and Xiao must navigate the unfamiliar territory of love, learning together what it means to truly be seen.

Tags: Xiao x Female!Reader, Adeptus!Reader, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Emotional Tension, Soft Moments, Fluff with a Touch of Angst.

Warnings: Mild emotional tension, Mentions of war and past battles, Xiao struggling with emotions and self-worth.

The world had long forgotten you.

Mortal eyes had never seen your form, nor would they ever recall you in dreams. To those who did not know you, you simply did not exist. Even adepti, kindred in divinity, found their memories of you slipping if distance grew too great. It was a strange existence—one of solitude and quiet, yet never loneliness. Not when Xiao was there.

You were a whisper in the wind, a shadow in the mountains, a guardian unseen. Liyue flourished under the protection of its adepti, and though your name was not sung in prayers or carved into stone, you remained—a hidden thread in the tapestry of eternity.

Only Zhongli and Xiao knew you without faltering. Zhongli, with his ageless wisdom, had known you since the earliest days, when the mountains still bled from war and the skies were thick with the scent of battle. And Xiao… Xiao had been your closest companion, even before he bore the name 'Conqueror of Demons.'

It had always been this way, an unshaken, unchanging truth.

And yet, something had begun to shift.

Xiao had been acting differently. It was not sudden, nor was it loud—it was quiet, like the way water carves stone over time. A lingering gaze when he thought you weren’t looking, a subtle tension when your hands brushed in passing. The way he would always find his way back to your side, as if drawn by an unseen force.

At first, you dismissed it. Xiao was careful with emotions, unfamiliar with the weight of affection beyond loyalty and duty. Yet… it was undeniable. The flickers of hesitance, the way his golden eyes darkened with something unspoken. Something more.

You found yourself growing attuned to him in ways you never had before. The quiet moments stretched longer, filled with a warmth neither of you had the words for. And it terrified you.

One evening, atop the Wangshu Inn, where the wind carried the scent of qingxin flowers, you sat beside him in silence. The night was still, save for the distant hum of the world below. Xiao was tense—he always was, but this was different.

“Xiao,” you murmured, breaking the silence, “what troubles you?”

His grip tightened around his polearm, though there was no battle to be fought. “Nothing,” he said, too quickly. A lie, though not malicious. He was simply… uncertain.

You turned to him, your eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face. “You forget,” you said gently, “I know you too well.”

For a moment, he did not speak. Then, almost imperceptibly, he exhaled.

“…It is you,” he admitted at last, voice barely above a whisper. “I do not understand what is happening to me.”

Your breath caught. You had suspected, of course, but to hear it aloud—

He looked at you then, truly looked at you. Golden eyes, raw and exposed in a way you had never seen before. “You are the only one who has ever remained,” he continued, “and yet, when I look at you now… I feel as if I am losing something. Or perhaps… gaining something I do not know how to hold.”

A soft breeze curled around you, carrying the scent of the earth, the mountains, the home you had always known. Something in your chest ached.

You reached out, hesitant, before resting your hand over his. His skin was warm beneath your touch, a contrast to the cold steel of his weapon. Xiao flinched, not from fear, but from something else—something deeper. He did not pull away.

“Then we will learn,” you said, voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you. “Together.”

Xiao did not respond, but his fingers curled ever so slightly, as if testing the feeling of your presence—of the tether between you that had always been there, unseen yet unbroken.

Perhaps, after all this time, the world had not forgotten you.

Perhaps, in Xiao’s eyes, you had always been seen.

186 notes · View notes

missmadella · 1 month ago

Text

“Back Where We Began” (Sanzu x Reader)

Summary: You and Sanzu knew each other since forever—back before Bonten, before the scars and the chaos. A parting years ago left both of you with unresolved feelings... and a promise sealed in the form of a rare VIP club card he gave you. Years later, you return to Tokyo, card still in hand, and step into the club he now helps run.

He doesn’t expect to see you—but when he does, he smiles. Really smiles. From a heartfelt reunion to stolen moments, old memories, and undeniable chemistry, your worlds collide all over again.

Words: 5356

The Tokyo night was electric—humming with neon, secrets, and the thrum of bass that pulsed through the streets like a second heartbeat.

You stepped out of the car slowly, heels clicking on the pavement, city lights catching on the silky curves of your dark dress. The fabric hugged you like it remembered your shape, slit high enough to whisper danger, but tasteful enough to say: I belong here.

You reached into your clutch and pulled out a black card.

It gleamed under the entrance light—glossy and minimalist. No name. Just a silver emblem: a capital B, coiled with delicate cherry blossom petals. A symbol of something most people didn’t even know existed.

But you remembered.

He gave it to you. Years ago. Right before everything changed.

The bouncer at the door didn’t ask for ID. He saw the card and straightened instantly.

"Right this way, miss."

No hesitation. No questions.

You smiled politely, heart fluttering beneath your ribs.

Inside, the club was a different world—low light, rich shadows, scent of top-shelf liquor and danger laced into the air. Music pounded from deeper within, but here in the entryway, it was muffled. Almost reverent.

A sleek woman in black met you at the threshold, earpiece tucked behind her ear. She gave you one glance, and her professional demeanor faltered for a split second.

“Please follow me,” she said quickly. “The VIP lounge has been expecting this card, though… no one knew if it’d ever be used.”

You smiled at that, running your fingers over the smooth surface of the card as you walked.

“I made a promise,” you murmured. “And I keep those.”

Down the hall. Past mirrored walls and hushed stares. The music faded behind thick doors—until the last one opened.

A quiet, exclusive lounge. The air cooler. Darker. Calmer.

You stepped inside, and time caught its breath.

He was there.

Sanzu Haruchiyo.

Half lounging on a couch, one hand lazily flipping a coin, pink and blue hair a little longer, scar still carved like a memory across his face—but his eyes. God, his eyes. Still that wild, unreadable blue.

He looked up.

The coin dropped.

And so did his jaw.

“…Y/N?”

___________________________________________________________________________

His voice cracked the silence, low and stunned. “…Y/N?”

Your smile bloomed wider, warmer, like sunlight slipping through the cracks of a long winter.

“Hi, Haru.”

He stood slowly, as if afraid the vision of you might disappear if he moved too fast. For a second, neither of you said a word—just stood there, taking each other in like ghosts finally made real again.

And then you stepped forward. And he did too.

The moment collided.

You threw your arms around his neck, and he caught you like instinct. Like home.

Sanzu hugged you back tight. Tighter than anyone had hugged you in years. Like his arms were trying to make up for all the time lost. One hand gripped the back of your dress, the other wrapped around your waist, anchoring himself to the warmth of you.

“You’re really here,” he breathed into your shoulder. His voice wasn’t shaking, but it was close. "After all this time..."

You laughed softly, squeezing him just as tight. “I told you I’d come back.”

His face was buried in your neck, and you felt the curve of his lips—a smile. Real. Unfiltered. The kind of smile only a few people had ever seen from Haruchiyo Sanzu. Not the crooked grin, not the manic smirk. This was something raw. Soft. Rare.

“Still smells like strawberry shampoo,” he muttered, and you snorted into his shoulder.

“Still notices the weirdest things.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist. His eyes were softer than you remembered. Tired, yes. Hardened, sure. But there was something underneath all that—something that hadn’t changed.

"You kept the card,” he said quietly.

“I kept everything,” you said, just as quietly.

His jaw clenched. His throat bobbed with a swallow. And then, again—that smile. A little crooked now, but still achingly real.

Behind you, you could feel the weight of a dozen stares.

Kakucho was watching with arms crossed. Ran had one eyebrow arched, Rindou looked like he couldn’t decide if this was hilarious or heartwarming, and Takeomi had paused mid-drink.

And Mikey?

Mikey was sitting silently, hands in his lap, observing everything. Like always. Like nothing escaped him.

You finally turned your head, still half in Sanzu’s arms.

“Hi, sorry!” you chirped, cheerful and radiant. “Didn’t mean to make an entrance. I’m Y/N—me and Haru go way back. Like, bike training wheels and scraped knees back.”

Sanzu groaned softly behind you, muttering, “Here we go…”

You only grinned brighter. “He used to throw rocks at my window to sneak out and share candy with me. And once he punched a guy in the face for calling my pigtails ugly.”

You extended a hand toward the room like you owned it. “So, are you all the people he works with? Or are you the people who try to keep him out of trouble? Because either way, I think you’ve got your hands full.”

A beat of stunned silence.

Then, a small, genuine chuckle from Mikey.

“She’s cute,” he said simply.

You winked. “Thanks, bossman.”

Sanzu just kept looking at you. Like if he looked away, you’d vanish again. Like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

And for the first time in years—he didn’t care who was watching.

The others eventually went back to their drinks and conversation, the initial surprise giving way to quiet curiosity. But Sanzu didn’t move.

He kept you close, one hand resting lightly on your lower back, like his body still didn’t believe this wasn’t a dream.

You tilted your head up at him. “You look different,” you said softly, eyes searching his face. “But it still feels like you.”

“Yeah?” he said, voice rougher now, but teasing under the gravel. “You mean cooler?”

You smirked. “I mean tired. But like, in a dangerous I-run-an-underworld-empire kind of way.”

That pulled a soft laugh from him, real and warm. “You’re the same,” he said, not smiling with his mouth now, but with his eyes. “Still loud. Still too bright for a place like this.”

“Guess that makes you my shadow, then,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder.

He blinked at that, eyes lingering on your face. Then he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in that old, familiar way. “You always say shit like that without thinking about what it means.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you always pretend you don’t love it.”

He didn’t deny it.

For a moment, the air between you shimmered. Not with tension—but with the old, tender gravity that had always pulled you toward each other. Unspoken things dancing just beneath the surface.

But before either of you could fall too far into it—

“Haruchiyo,” Mikey’s voice cut in from across the lounge.

Sanzu tensed slightly but turned his head. “Yeah?”

Mikey’s expression was unreadable as always, but calm. “Bring her over. I want to talk to her.”

Your brows rose a little in surprise, but you didn’t feel fear. Only curiosity.

Sanzu glanced at you, as if asking you okay with this? with just his eyes.

You gave him a small nod and smiled. “He is the bossman, after all.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re not supposed to call him that.”

You only grinned wider. “Bet he secretly likes it.”

Sanzu led you gently by the hand across the room, eyes flicking to Mikey for any subtle shift in mood—but Mikey was just sitting there, still, legs crossed, that usual air of quiet power around him.

You took a seat beside him, your posture relaxed, smile soft but respectful.

“So…” you began. “You wanted to talk?”

Mikey studied you for a long moment.

Then, softly, with just a trace of curiosity in his voice, he asked:

“What kind of person brings him back to life like that?”

You blinked—then laughed, a sound like music in a room full of shadows.

You rested your hands in your lap, not looking away from his gaze. “Maybe someone who knows what he used to be like—before all this.”

Mikey’s eyes didn’t flicker, but something in his expression shifted. Subtle, but you caught it.

“You think he’s not the same?” he asked.

You thought for a moment, then shook your head gently. “No… I think he is the same. That’s the problem. You all look at him and see the chaos, the volatility, the scars—and yeah, they’re real. But that fire? That loyalty? That weird, obsessive way he cares about the people he loves?” You smiled, almost wistfully. “That’s always been there.”

Mikey was silent for a moment. Then: “He’s not easy to be around.”

“I’m not looking for easy,” you said simply. “I’m just here because I never stopped caring. That kind of thing… doesn’t go away.”

Another long pause. Mikey stared at you like he was trying to see something deeper. Not threatening—just deeply curious.

Finally, he spoke again. “He talked about you. Once.”

You blinked. “He did?”

Mikey nodded once. “Not in detail. Just… said there was someone he used to know. Someone who made Tokyo feel like home. I didn’t ask more.”

Your heart squeezed a little, throat catching on a breath. “He always had a hard time saying things out loud.”

Mikey studied you a bit longer, then leaned back slightly.

“You’re different,” he said.

“Most people are scared when they walk in here,” he added. “They feel the weight of what this place means. But you came in smiling. You hugged him like none of this mattered.”

You looked down for a moment, brushing your fingers over your knees, then back up.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quietly. “Not to me. Because I knew him before the blood, before the scars, before he started walking through the world like it was always burning. And even if it’s burning now… I still see him.”

For the first time, Mikey’s lips tugged into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Good,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Good?”

He nodded. “I think he needs someone who sees him like that.”

Then, in that soft, unsettling Mikey way, he said:

“Don’t disappear on him again.”

You blinked, surprised.

“Because if you do…” he paused, not threateningly, just matter-of-fact, “I don’t know if he’ll survive it a second time.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t flinch.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere,” you whispered.

Mikey held your gaze one more moment.

Then he turned away, voice low. “You can go back to him now.”

_________________________________________________________________________

You stood slowly from the seat next to Mikey, the weight of his last words still echoing softly in your chest.

Across the room, Sanzu was watching. You knew he’d been watching the entire time—he always had a sixth sense when it came to you. Like if he looked away, you’d be gone again.

You crossed the lounge and reached him, your hand brushing against his.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered.

His eyes flicked toward the others—still loosely gathered, half-distracted, half-noticing. Mikey gave no signal, but somehow, you both knew it was fine.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Come on.”

Without another word, he took your hand and led you out. Not through the front. Through a narrow hallway, down a back staircase that smelled like old smoke and stone. The noise of the lounge faded behind you, replaced by the echo of your steps and the quiet thrum of city life just beyond.

You ended up in a back courtyard—empty, tucked away between buildings. The only light came from a flickering neon sign and the soft glow of the moon above.

It was quiet. Still. Like the world had been waiting for you both to catch up.

Sanzu lit a cigarette with one hand, the other still loosely linked with yours. He didn’t speak for a moment, just inhaled, then exhaled slowly like he was trying to keep everything from spilling out.

Then:

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said quietly.

You turned toward him, stepping a little closer. “I didn’t think I’d come back.”

He gave a dry chuckle, eyes flicking toward the sky. “Tokyo’s a black hole. Swallows everything. You were one of the few things that ever felt light.”

You smiled softly. “I didn’t feel very light when I left.”

Sanzu went quiet again.

Then he looked at you—and this time, really looked. His voice dropped, rougher now.

“I thought about you. More than I should’ve. Even after I got into Bonten. Even after I stopped recognizing my own damn reflection. I still thought about you. I wondered what you’d think if you saw me now.”

You reached out and gently tugged the cigarette from his lips, letting it drop to the ground and putting it out with your heel.

“I think,” you said, stepping into him now, so close your chest brushed his, “that you’re still Haru.”

His breath hitched. You brought your hand up and cupped his jaw, thumb grazing the scar on his cheek like it didn’t scare you. Like it never could.

“And Haru was the boy who sat with me in the rain when I cried. Who got into fights for me. Who gave me a stupid VIP card and told me it meant I’d always have a way back to him.”

He let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. “I meant it. I meant every word of it.”

“I know,” you said softly.

His hands found your waist again, and this time it wasn’t desperate—it was steady. Grounded. Like he knew this was real now.

“Stay,” he said quietly.

“I will,” you replied.

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous,” he muttered. “Or if people talk. Or if I’m messed up now. Just… don’t leave again.”

You leaned in, forehead pressing to his.

“I’m not leaving, Haru. Not this time.”

And under the moonlight, in the silence of the city that had changed everything, he finally closed his eyes.

And breathed.

___________________________________________________________________________

You both stayed like that for a while—his forehead resting against yours, the city humming quietly around you, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then you slowly pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers still brushing along the side of his face.

“What happened, Haru?” you asked softly. “After I left?”

He looked away for a moment, jaw tightening. You waited, not pushing—just being there. Like always.

He took a slow breath, then finally spoke. “You remember when everything started falling apart—when we all started drifting?”

You nodded.

“I thought I was handling it,” he said. “Thought if I stayed angry, if I threw myself into fights, I wouldn’t feel it. But then you were gone. You just… disappeared.”

You looked down, guilt tugging at your chest. “I didn’t mean to vanish. I had to leave. My family was falling apart back home, and I didn’t know how to ask for help. I thought I’d just go for a while. Then I looked up and years had passed.”

Sanzu exhaled sharply, but not in anger. Just pain.

“I used to walk past your old apartment, even after they repainted it. Just to see if maybe you came back. I gave you that card because I didn’t know how else to make sure you’d remember me.”

You smiled faintly. “I carried it in my wallet through three cities and two passports.”

That made him laugh—quiet, rough, but genuine.

“I missed you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “More than I missed myself.”

You stepped closer again, wrapping your arms around his waist this time, resting your cheek against his chest. His arms folded around you naturally, like they never forgot the shape of holding you.

“I missed you too,” you said. “I missed this. Even if everything’s different now.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then spoke again, more hesitant this time.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Where?”

“My place,” he said. “Penthouse. It’s… quiet. Safer than most places. No one else is there. Just me. It’s not much—well, it’s a lot, actually—but it never felt like anything without someone in it.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You live in a penthouse now?”

“Don’t act surprised,” he said with a crooked grin. “Bonten pays well.”

You laughed. “Alright, then. Take me to your ridiculous criminal lair.”

He smirked, but there was warmth behind it now. “It has heated floors.”

You pretended to gasp. “Luxury.”

“I’m trying to impress you,” he deadpanned.

You reached up and kissed his cheek—right beside the scar.

“You already did.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing Sanzu’s penthouse—spacious, sleek, and glowing dimly under low, warm lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Tokyo skyline like art. The city buzzed below, but up here, it was quiet. Almost peaceful.

You stepped inside slowly, taking it all in.

“Wow,” you said, your voice soft with surprise. “This is… not the kind of place I pictured you in.”

Sanzu stepped in behind you, tossing his jacket onto a sleek black couch. “What’d you expect? A dungeon?”

You smirked. “A messier dungeon.”

He snorted, then walked past you, grabbing two drinks from a minibar near the window. When he handed you yours, your fingers brushed again. Neither of you pulled away.

You wandered through the living room slowly, noticing small, personal things tucked between the luxury—an old, scratched lighter on a shelf; a framed photo of a motorcycle you remembered from high school; a cracked ceramic ashtray that looked handmade.

“You kept this?” you asked, picking it up gently.

Sanzu glanced over. “You made it. Of course I kept it.”

You smiled, touched. “It’s terrible. Lopsided.”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging with a small grin, “but it’s mine.”

You sat on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself as he joined you, drink in hand. For a while, the two of you just sat like that—shoulders brushing, silence thick with comfort.

Then, softly, you asked, “Do you remember that one summer we tried to build a treehouse in your neighbor’s yard?”

He laughed, really laughed, head tipping back. “God. We didn’t even ask permission. Just showed up with stolen wood and a hammer.”

“And then you fell out of the tree and broke your arm,” you grinned.

“I did not fall,” he protested. “I jumped. Dramatically.”

You nudged his knee. “You cried for twenty minutes.”

He grinned at you. “And you stayed. Even after your mom was yelling down the street.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave you,” you said, tone softening. “Even back then.”

Sanzu looked down at his drink, the smile fading into something quieter. “You always stayed until you couldn’t anymore.”

You swallowed, heart twisting. “I hated leaving. I never told you that.”

He nodded slowly. “And I hated that I didn’t stop you. But I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding selfish.”

You reached out and took his hand gently, fingers lacing between his. “So maybe this time, we don’t run. Not from each other.”

He looked at your hand, then at you. His voice dropped, softer than ever.

“I wanted to kiss you so many times back then,” he admitted. “I always told myself I’d wait until the right moment.”

You smiled, leaning in slightly. “This one feels pretty right.”

His breath caught, eyes locked to yours.

Then he leaned forward and kissed you—slow, steady, full of every word he never said when you were younger. It wasn’t rushed, or frantic. It was homecoming.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his once again.

“We really grew up, huh?” you whispered.

Sanzu smirked, voice barely audible. “One of us did.”

You laughed against his lips. “Guess you’ll just have to catch up.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The kiss should have been enough to break the tension.

But it wasn’t.

When you pulled back, the air between you didn’t settle—it sharpened. Like every emotion, every memory, every unspoken word had been stirred up again and now hovered, waiting to fall.

Sanzu’s hand stayed on your thigh, thumb moving in slow circles through the fabric of your dress. You could feel how hard he was trying to keep still. How every part of him wanted to move closer, press deeper—but he didn’t. Not yet.

“You’re messing with me,” he muttered, eyes locked to your lips.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “How so?”

“You show up in that dress. With that card. Smiling like you never left.” His voice was low, rough, almost accusing—but not angry. Hungry.

“You gave me the card,” you reminded him, a smile playing at your lips. “You told me it’d always mean something.”

He huffed a laugh, bitter and amused all at once. “Yeah, and I didn’t think you’d actually show up years later looking like that.”

You leaned in, just enough to make your breath ghost over his skin. “What exactly do I look like, Haru?”

His jaw clenched. “Like a problem.”

Your eyes glittered. “Are you saying I’m bad for you?”

“I’m saying you’re dangerous,” he murmured. “And I’ve got enough danger in my life already.”

You moved your hand up, over the scar on his cheek, gentle, like you were memorizing it. “You used to be afraid of getting close to people.”

“I still am.”

“But you let me in anyway.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Just stared at you like you were a ghost that refused to fade.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you whispered.

He leaned in, voice close to your ear, and said, “That if I touch you again, I won’t be able to stop.”

Your breath caught, heart hammering in your chest.

“You think I’d want you to?” you whispered.

That broke something in him.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His were stormy, restless. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

You slid your hand to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “I’ve never said anything to you I didn’t mean.”

He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours again.

“I don’t know how to do this slowly,” he said. “I don’t know how to be careful with you.”

“Then don’t be,” you breathed.

His lips brushed against yours again—but this time it didn’t turn into a kiss. He pulled back. Just a little.

“Stay the night,” he said suddenly. “But not for that.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I want you here. Just here. Not because we’re chasing something we should’ve had back then.” His voice was hoarse. “I want the first time I sleep beside you to be real. Not just because we couldn’t hold back.”

You were quiet, your heart full and aching.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, a promise without pressure.

“I’ll stay,” you whispered. “No expectations. Just us.”

He exhaled slowly, his entire body finally relaxing under your touch.

And as he stood up and led you to the bedroom—his fingers loosely laced with yours—it wasn’t about sex, or need, or desperation.

It was about choosing each other. After all this time.

___________________________________________________________________________

The bedroom was quiet.

City lights filtered through the wide windows, casting soft, shifting shadows across the room. You stood near the edge of the bed, still in your dress, watching as Sanzu shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside.

He didn’t look at you at first—he was tense again, jaw tight, back turned like he was bracing for something more than just physical closeness.

You stepped toward him, hands gentle on his back. His skin was warm under your palms, marred with old scars and new ones you hadn’t seen before.

“This okay?” you whispered.

He nodded, but it was stiff. Too stiff. So you pressed a kiss between his shoulders, slow and soft.

That was what did it.

He turned around fast—like he couldn’t hold back another second—and kissed you. Really kissed you. Not careful. Not soft. Just full of years.

Years of waiting. Years of wondering. Years of imagining what it would feel like to have you here again, close enough to touch, no longer a memory.

His hands found your hips, your back, your face—like he couldn’t decide which part of you he needed most. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, matching his intensity without hesitation.

“I missed you,” he said against your lips. “So fucking much.”

“I’m here,” you breathed. “I’m right here.”

And that was the last thing either of you said for a while.

Your dress slipped down your shoulders. His mouth followed the curve of your neck, your collarbone. You felt him slow down—not because he didn’t want you, but because he did. So badly he needed to savor every second. Like he didn’t trust this to last, even now.

You guided him to the bed, tugging him down with you. He hovered over you for a heartbeat, eyes locked on yours—asking, checking, hoping.

You nodded. Just once.

And that was enough.

Clothes forgotten. Time forgotten. Everything else disappeared.

His hands were reverent—like he’d dreamed of this, memorized it in some other life. And yours were no better—pulling him closer, anchoring yourself in the way he felt, the way he breathed your name like it was a prayer he’d stopped believing would ever be answered.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed.

It was intense.

Every kiss. Every touch. Every sound. All of it came from something deep, something old. Something that had never really gone away, no matter how far you'd both traveled.

And when he finally held you after—bare skin against bare skin, heart still racing—he whispered it against your temple:

“I never stopped wanting you.”

You didn’t answer. You just held him tighter.

Because you hadn’t either.

__________________________________________________________________________

Sunlight filtered softly through the blinds, painting warm stripes across the bed where you lay tangled in each other. The air smelled like Sanzu — faint smoke and something sharp and familiar that made your heart twist in the best way.

He was already awake, sprawled beside you, his shirt hanging open and slipping off one shoulder. You traced lazy circles on his chest, watching the way his dark eyes flicked up to meet yours — that mischievous, half-smile already teasing at his lips.

“Sleep well?” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep and last night’s memories.

You grinned, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Like a baby. You?”

He shrugged, pulling you closer, fingers curling around your waist. “Better than I have in years.”

You laughed softly, then wriggled free, planting a quick kiss on his jaw. “I’m starving. You cook?”

His smirk turned full-on challenge. “Depends. You wanna see my skills… or my mess?”

“Both,” you teased, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

He caught your hand and tugged you back with a rough pull. “Wait.”

Before you could protest, he was standing, grabbing a shirt off the floor and slipping it on — the sleeves a little long on your wrists, but somehow perfect. He held out his hand with that crooked grin.

“Dance with me. Kitchen island style.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, taking his hand. The warmth of his palm against yours made your heart skip. Together you swayed — just two people making space in a world that often refused it.

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, serious now.

“Look, I know my life’s messy. Bonten isn’t just some gang—it’s dangerous. But I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

Your breath caught.

He took your hand again, squeezing gently.

“If you want to stay—with me, with this—it’s not just a fling. You can work with me. Be part of this life. But only if you want. No pressure.”

You searched his face — raw and honest beneath the bravado.

“I’m not scared,” you said softly. “I want to be with you. All of you. Even the dangerous parts.”

His grin softened to something warmer, almost vulnerable.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not letting go this time.”

You leaned up, kissing him—a promise sealed in morning light.

___________________________________________________________________________

The low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of cigarette smoke filled the cramped, concrete-walled room where Mikey sat behind a battered metal desk. His usual calm demeanor gave way to a sharp gaze as Sanzu pushed the door open, you trailing behind him.

Mikey’s eyes flicked over you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "So, you’re the one trying to get in," he said, voice steady but edged with challenge.

Sanzu crossed his arms and nodded. "She’s serious. I want her in Bonten. But I’m not the one to decide."

Mikey’s gaze sharpened. "Alright, then. What exactly do you have to offer? We don’t need liabilities."

You stepped forward, the quiet confidence of someone who’s navigated darker digital waters than any street fight. "Let me show you."

Mikey smirked and pointed to a rusty security terminal on the wall—an ancient relic in an otherwise dangerous empire. "That’s your test. Break through our defenses. If you do it in under two minutes, I’ll consider what you’re worth."

You didn’t hesitate. Sitting down, your fingers danced across the keys with practiced ease, commands flowing in a precise rhythm. The security system—meant to keep out hackers and rival gangs—started flashing red alarms and flickering icons as firewalls and encryption layers peeled away under your touch.

The room fell silent except for the steady tapping of your fingers.

Mikey leaned back, impressed despite himself. Sanzu watched you with a rare, proud smile.

Seconds ticked by. You bypassed their outdated firewall with a few cheeky lines of code, scanning deeper into their security protocols.

Then, with a sly grin, you muttered, "No front, Bossman, but you really need to get a refund on this defense system. I’ve seen better firewalls on a flip phone."

The terminal screen blinked open completely—security breached.

Mikey raised an eyebrow but smiled lightly. “Your in.”

You shut the console down and stood, turning to meet both their gazes. "That’s what I bring. Not just muscle, but brains."

Sanzu stepped forward, voice soft but firm. "She’s not just a hacker. She’s family."

Mikey’s eyes softened, the smirk turning into a genuine smile. "Alright then. Welcome to Bonten."

You exchanged a victorious glance with Sanzu. "About time," you said with a wink.

___________________________________________________________________________

The dim light of the back alley flickered as you waited by the cracked brick wall, phone pressed to your ear. The informant’s voice crackled through, low and nervous. You smirked, already knowing how this would go.

“So, you’re the famous Mrs. Sanzu,” the man said, his tone sliding into something too familiar. “Didn’t think you’d be this... approachable.”

You rolled your eyes, voice smooth. “Flatter me all you want. Just make sure your info’s worth it.”

Before the man could respond, a heavy shadow fell beside you. Sanzu’s presence was like a thunderclap—dark, commanding. His cold eyes locked on the informant with a warning sharper than any blade.

“You better not touch my wife,” Sanzu said quietly, voice low and dangerous. “Or even try to open your mouth one more time.”

The man swallowed hard, stepping back with a quick nod. “Got it. No trouble.”

As he hurried away, you turned to Sanzu, slipping your hand into his. Without hesitation, you moved into his arms, tilting your face up to give him a sweet, soft kiss.

“That was sexy, Mr. Sanzu,” you whispered, lips brushing his.

His smirk softened, eyes warm as he cupped your cheek gently. “Everything for you, Mrs. Sanzu.”

165 notes · View notes

uhhhj13iguess · 1 month ago

Text

touch-starved boy

stiles stilinski x gn!reader rant

when i thought of this initially, i wanted to make it smutty but i just couldn’t stop thinking about this sweet, sweet boy. one hug could cure him

stiles stilinski, the touch-starved boy.

stiles stilinski, who after his mother passed away, lost the only one he shared physical contact with (if you don't count the bullying and chaining scott up). who genuinely couldn't tell you the last time he hugged someone — probably the last time someone almost died.

who was grateful for the touches he did get, whether it be a high five, or even being shoved into a locker. at this point, touch was touch, and he would take what he could get. who thought that's how the rest of his life was going to be, sorrowfully accepting the fact that physical touch just wasn't in the cards for him in this lifetime, and he dreamed of what could be in the next one.

until you.

you, who wasn't shy with your affection, a touchy person by nature with everyone you came across. who sat confused whenever you'd rest your hand on stiles' arm, only to earn a flinch in response. who wondered if you were overstepping, but as time went on, you began to realize he simply wasn't used to it. who grew sad at that knowledge, confronting him and learning his past. who gave him the biggest hug he's ever received upon hearing his story, a soul-healing kind of comfort stiles didn't know existed.

stiles stilinski, who grew to yearn for your touch, shamelessly finding any possible way he could touch you every moment he saw you. who was now no stranger to being held or holding someone else close, even gong as far to initiate the touch himself.

who’s touching grew to become more over time, a language he spoke against his better judgment, reaching for you and exposing his true feelings. who blurted it out one friday evening during a star wars marathon, how he thinks he’s falling in love with you. who was blown away when you pulled him in for a kiss, a form of touch he definitely hadn’t experienced much of. who couldn’t shake the sensation of your lips against his for days until he saw you next, immediately approaching you outside of school and kissing you like he’d never get the chance to again, to feel what he’d been craving since the first time.

who, once given permission, refused to take his hands off of you in any fashion, no matter where the two of you were. who woke up each morning itching to feel your hands in his, who yearned for your lips, a constant fight with himself to not make out with you in inappropriate situations, his brain wracking itself for an excuse to pull you into the next room and kiss you until neither of you can breathe.

stiles stilinski, who fell in love with physical touch.

masterlist and taglist!

363 notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 7 months ago

Text

Say You'll Love Me

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.6)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: From the Arcane fucking with his mind, people he thought to trust turning their backs on him and Piltover looking up to him for salvation... the only thing Jayce wants? you.

─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADLUTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. skip the smut once seeing the star! ⭐️ tags under cut

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective!Jayce (low-key possessive in some parts), kissing, depictions of blood, gore, war and death. brief mentions of suicidal thoughts and torture. fluff, hurt/comfort, angst. smut: pinv sex, oral (fem receiving), dom!Jayce, chocking, marking/biting, size kink?, dirty talk, overstim, aftercare.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,585

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: This is my first time EVER writing long-form smut... please be kind I was so embarrassed while writing this lol (hoping its not too shit) 🙈

─────── · ·

─ · · drip... drip... drip... water slowly fell from a corner of the ceiling in your cold cell, you hugged your knees to your chest, chair wobbling as you shivered. The lights were too bright to sleep and with what little food they expected you to work off of, you were scrambling for answers.

─ · · Everyday you tried to explain to the guards that you were only the assistant, could only work with your scientists. The last time you had conducted personal research was when apply to the academy yet nobody believed you, a slap to the face as they told you to work harder. Your hands shook around the barrel of a gun as you twisted on the scope- you looked at the blueprints one last time and then fired it at the wall.

The guards did not budge just listening to the bang echo, blankly watching as you fell backwards form the impact. The burst of magic coming out unstable and crumbling bits of the stone wall... fuck! you muttered underneath your breath. Using the end of the gun like a cane to help pick yourself up before stumbling back to the drawing board.

Hextech was not going to work, there was no metal strong enough to correct the blast... but what if it was not meant to hold... what if it exploded? You shook your head, disturb that you had even thought about it yet a hand shook the bars to your cell, your head whipping over, eyes wide as Ambessa looked down upon you. "Whatever it is that came though your mind, make it and you will be allowed out for a moment. Is that a deal?"

You looked down at your hands, holding them together as you nodded, waiting for her to leave before turning back around. You listened as the elevator doors closed but a new voice stopped your movements. "Please, just follow her words. It'll make everything easier," you gasped seeing the officer you shared a night with emerge from the shadows. His eyes sunken, scar across his cheek.

You winced, his name leaving your mouth as he nodded, "still as beautiful as that night," he said to you and you pulled your sleeves further down your arms. "I mean it," he adds, hands resting on the bars of your cell. "release me," you asked gently, hope bleeding in your wide eyes. He stared at you, mouth opening and closing before shaking his head.

You turned back around, going back to your desk yet he continued to speak even as another guard warned him, "I can't, not unless they find another person with the knowledge you have. They need these weapons for the oncoming war..."

"They don't need weapons," you scoff, pencil snapping in two, "just like we don't need war... people just want the quickest results." No one speaks another word as you disassemble the shotgun, breaking it down into smaller parts as the darkest parts of your mind comes to the surface... I refuse to be the one that places this land in destruction... I refuse.

─────── · ·

─ · · With the rune taking its place within his forearm his tattoo on the other, he was the polar opposites of what Hextech could do... of what it had done to the people he was closest to and loved the most.

─ · · Acting on what was beyond his mortal brain and body, Jayce was felt as if he was falling from the sky, his brain a blur of the horrors he had just seen mixing with reality just as he slammed down on Salo's figure. He staggered and stumbled afterwards, the voices still unpleased, demanding he go to Viktor's sanctuary where Jayce did not even recognizing the familiar faces he saw, he was determined to eliminate Viktor. To shoot him down, to watch as his body hit the floor, to see if he still bled.

─ · · The world went silent as soon as the shot happened as if a sound barrier went through the houses and homes before a thousand cries sounded and all of Viktor's followers fell to the floor, unmoving. Jayce fell forwards, his strength gone, vision clearing as he stared with wide eyes observing Jayce. His mind was still buzzing a voice demanding for him to continue brutalizing the corpse yet he held his arcane hammer. Forcing his muscles to freeze. Viktor still was his partner, a cold bucket of water feels like it spills over his skin, clarity in his mind that immediately goes to you.

─────── · ·

─ · · Piltover is cheering as he emerges from the sewers, he cannot find it in himself to smile or react, simply watching as the crowd parts. The cheers dying into gasps as they observe the scars across his chest, the torn white uniform and his unruly appearance. His hammer groans behind him, the arcane still unsettled as it picks and pries at his memories, trying to regain control yet without seeing you, there was no hope in hell he was allowing any force to come between him and you.

─ · · Jayce only stops once seeing that little girl again hiding behind her fathers legs, she appears so much older now as Jayce presses a hand to his forehead, pulling back his hair- eyes gone wide. Had he been gone that long? Had you already given up on him? Jayce would forgive you, it wouldn't be fair if you hadn't waited for him yet a large part of him prayed so... he wanted nothing more to kiss you, to feel his skin against your skin, to hear you call out his name. Jayce's boots picked up their pace as he was a one-track mind, determined to get to the lab where he last left you.

─ · · His hands gripped his hammer, his eyes hardened as he bursted into the lab, his eyes searching, weapon swinging as his heart dropped... you were not here. Jayce's hammer fell with a thud, cracking the floors as he yelled your name, spinning in circles as he looked towards the ceiling and all the dark corners of the room. Jayce chuckled, shaking his head as he saw blood all over your leftover journals. Your always organized tools sprayed out across Viktor's desk you both promised not to touch, a chair flipped over and then... he looked under his desk and felt sick.

He could see where your nails had dug into the wood, scratching, he could hear you begging and pleading as his fingers brushed over the marks. With a broken sob, Jayce fell to his knees, forcing a fist into his mouth as he choked but no tears fell. His shoulder began to shake, his muscles tensing as he yelled out in frustration, throwing everything off the desk watching it shatter against the floor, "Fuck!"

Jayce took a series of deep breaths before storming to his hammer, allowing it to drag against the floors as sparks followed his footsteps. He felt his side start to bleed again, he would treat himself, he was not that far removed in his anger to endanger you further... no he would prepare and then he would allow himself to enjoy the blood across his face and the weight of you on his chest.

─────── · ·

─ · · "Kiramman!" Jayce shouted, storming into Caitlyn's house. The blue haired woman did not turn, her long blue coat rested upon her shoulders as her gaze while looking at Jinx's face on the board, she had to continue playing her role up until the final moment. "That is general to you," she said turning around before seeing a familiar blue glow and Jayce's hammer charged- the words dying on her lips as she held her palms up calmly, "Jayce," she warned watching as the mans eyes hardened. His face appeared more aged, his clothes form fitting in a deep green button up and black trousers.

A soft glow coming from his forearm had her raising a brow as Jayce chest heaved, "where's my girl, Kiramman?" he spoke coldly, fixing his grip, the leather of his gloves groaning as Caitlyn took a few steps forward. "I have been searching for her as well, Jayce. I have a feeling it has something to do with Mel's mother."

Jayce remembers her stare as you sat in the medical tent together... those events seemed so distant now. Jayce cracks his neck, his arms tensing as Caitlyn slightly flitches, trying to hold her ground. Jayce stares her down, daring her to lie but Cait only spoke the truth. The man nods, powering down his stance before leaning against his hammer, "How far has the search gone? How do you know she's with Ambessa? How can I know to trust you?"

Caitlyn sighs, removing her hat, arms crossing over her chest, shotgun leaning against her desk as she stares at the gemstone within it, rattling around in its cage. Jayce follows her stare, his eyes widening, the voices in his head threatening to rise to the surface. He shakes his head, physically trying to remove them with a growl.

"I am her friend as I am your's Jayce. Had I had known this is what Ambessa was planning... I would have never sided with her. The gemstone has been unstable since (name) has been taken, I assume it has something to do with her playing around with magic to appease the tyrant," Caitlyn explains, picking at her nails before looking up at Jayce, "Now how do I know to trust you with the rest of the information? Are you sure she'll want to see you more animal than man?"

Jayce glares, "I am still a man, perhaps more than I had been in the past-"

"That was not my question, Jayce," the General cuts the Councillor off, "I was asking, are you ready if she does not want you back?"

─────── · ·

─ · · You could hear shouting again and rolled your eyes, assuming the red guard to be training once again yet a part of you swore to hear Jayce's voice roaring, the sound of his mechanical hammer wizzing with magic- you stood up from your chair as did your assigned guards. Maybe it was just imaginative hope...

You could hear their weapons click on as you picked up the last gemstone you hadn't used and hid in a corner of the cell. Whoever was coming was leaving a trail of destruction that you did not want to see nor be a part of.

You listened to the trail of blood and guts becoming closer, bodies thudding to the floor as you closed your eyes, hugging yourself, making yourself smaller as you pleaded for it all to be over. In all honesty, you realized just how safe this cage allowed you to be. It saved you from Ambessa's lashings, saved you from the eyes of the guards when you hid in the shadows... and then you could hear your assigned officer stuttering, metal shattering with a slam, your door being swung open.

You listened, squeezing your eyes shut as laboured breaths echoed in the cold air, heard as their boots walked up to your desk, moving papers gently before picking up your unfinished models, a thoughtful hum sounding before they turned around abruptly. Another slam was heard, blue dimming as you held your breath.

The metal chair you spent so much time on groaned as it was pulled out and away from the table before... nothing, they must have sat down... why? You opened your eyes slowly, trying to squint through the darkness, your breaths shallow- "I can see your boots, sweetheart, come, now," You hear a deep strained voice commands as you feel their stare on your face.

You push your hands against the stone walls, helping yourself to stand as you take a half step into the light, just enough to see whoever is at the other side... Jayce? Jayce! Your eyes see your lover before you as he sits utterly exhausted yet eyes wild; sweat dripping down his forehead, his lips parted as he inhales deeply, tipping his head back. Broad shoulders rising and falling with his shirt as he stares at you, legs spread lazily- one encased in metal.

You blink once... twice... thrice. Your throat dry as you try and comprehend how he is here... you start to look away, eyes catching drops of blood across the concrete floors, you start to follow the trail before Jayce calls for you again, "don't look over there. Come here, please," he adds a bit more softly this time, his palm facing upwards on his thigh, fingers wiggling in leather to entice you.

You take a few steps closer, still unsure if this was your Jayce as you stand just barley within reach. You watch as his hazel eyes drink in your appearance and form, starting from your shoes, up to your waist, chest, and then settles of your features. His eyes caress your face in a loving stare, you can feel the warmth in his gaze hidden underneath his cold exterior, your cheeks warm as you grab your arm.

"Jayce?" you ask timidly, you watch as his eyes darken as you say his name before closing, a small smile appearing as his head hangs low -swaying. "Jayce?" you ask again, a bit of panic in your tone as you rush to stand in front of him. You gasp once feeling him grip the back of your thighs, squeezing gently. He opens his eyes, looking up through his long lashes at you with nothing short of adoration, "I've missed hearing my name between your lips."

Your mouth gapes as your mind goes blank, eyes staring widely into his own- listening to him chuckle as his hands slide up over your butt to your lower back before pushing gently for you to take a seat on his lap. Your hands start to shake, brain exploding by the hundred senses you experience as his thumb draws circles upon your hip, his chin resting on your shoulder, beard scratching at your skin as you squirm by the heat of his breath. He grips your hips, taking a sharp intake of air, he bites his lip, concealing his moan, "Can I kiss you?"

You place your hands on his chest, a palm feeling his heart beating rapidly just like yours before you feel around to his back and grip his shoulders pulling him in for a hug. You close your eyes, sobbing into the crook of his neck and shoulder as he holds you closely, shushing you gently. You squeeze your thighs and arms against him, trying to get closer, to feel that he was not just a dream, "Yes."

─────── · · ⭐️

Jayce being aware of his strength gives you a tight squeeze, listening to you gasp before he slowly lets go and presses a kiss to your shoulder. You lean your head to the side, exposing your neck- feeling as Jayce's fingers comb your hair aside. Next you feel his mouth leave open wet kisses trailing from your shoulder slowly up to just above your collarbone before moving to a place on your neck that has you scratching his back from the sensitivity.

You feel Jayce's smirk against your skin, he bites down playfully hearing you yelp but before you can turn your head to glare, he blows on the spot gently before sucking on the sore skin. Your entire body shakes, "Jayce," you breathily say his name, eyes closing from the thousand tickles that go up to your brain as you collapse against his chest, you tap his back thrice, Jayce pulls away with a satisfied hum, admiring the mark.

You nuzzle your face into his shoulder, hand reaching to pull his shirts collar aside as you quickly kiss up his neck eager to feel his lips against yours. A sudden slap against your butt has you pulling your head back as you see Jayce playfully glaring at you, "eager little thing, aren't you?"

"Jayce," you whine out, shaking your head and pulling away- suddenly feeling embarrassed, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Seeing your shyness, Jayce braces you against his chest with his forearm against your back, your chests pressed up against one another; he knows how eye contact effects you, allowing your eyes to reset as you looked around the room, enjoying his touch.

A few moments pass before you feel his lips by your ear as his other hand plays with your hair, "I want us to enjoy this, we have time, sweetheart." You nod as Jayce moves his hold back to your waist, his head tilting as you press a tentative kiss to a vein, listening to him hum in approval before continuing, slower this time.

You press kisses up his neck, biting just behind his ear to hear him growl. Your thighs clench at the sound, your hands gripping his hair as you feel a large palm place a gentle pressure at the back of your head, keeping you on that one spot before allowing you to pull away with hooded eyes.

Jayce licks his lips, chest heaving, his eyes watching your puffy lips part in a silent ask before he leans forwards, pressing hard as you moan against his lips. Your hands start to unbutton his shirt, feeling his skin against your palms before shrugging off your lab coat. Your brain feels foggy from the lack of air as you start to pull away, feeling as Jayce softly bites down on your lower lip before letting go.

You pause, seeing the scars against his chest, your finger hovering over before you feel leather against your wrist as he pushes your hand over the mark. You don't move, looking to Jayce for clarity, "I'm still the man you knew before, I promise." You can sense an equal truth and pleading to his tone.

"Do they hurt?" you ask softly, Jayce shakes his head, "not anymore. It feels good when you touch me actually." You laugh, shaking your head feeling as Jayce kissing your jaw, "I missed that sound too." Your heart swells as you trace the lines and contours of his chest. "I love you, Jayce."

"I love you too, so please, let me show you." Your eyes go wide, your brain returning to you as you feel as Jayce touch loosens on you his eyes widening too, "I mean we don't have to, I just-" you place a hand on his mouth, eyes shinning with humour. "Jayce, I'm not going to let you fuck me in a cell with corpses on the other side."

Jayce kisses your palm, you remove your touch. "First rude, I thought I taught you not to do that." You roll your eyes, feeling him tap your thigh in warning as you sigh. "Second, what corpses?"

You look over and to your shock, there is not a body in sight, "While I was waiting for you, Caitlyn and her team cleared and cleaned everything up," Jayce explains as you look back at him in shock. "And third," You could not believe the sass was still in him. "I never 'fuck' you, I make love to you." You begin to gag but see that Jayce is completely serious in saying this, "I mean it, (name). I love you and only want to show you that."

You look into his eyes before giving him a kiss, hearing him sigh out in relief. "Is that a yes?" you nod. "I need to hear it from you," Jayce clarifies. You take his face between your palms, "Yes, Jayce. I-I trust you." Jayce tilts his head, kissing your palm. "I might be a bit rough, but you know how to stop me, right?" You look over his dishevelled appearance again. Seeing his long hair sticking to his forehead, the lines across his face and chest, the feeling of leather against your skin.

"Three taps or shout hex." Jayce nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "Good girl." You shift in his lap, "That still does it for you, huh?" You don't respond and Jayce takes that as his answer with a smirk before gripping your thighs and standing. You rest your head on his shoulder before he places you on the desk and shoves everything off- clattering to the floor.

You watch as Jayce fully removes his shirt while looking down at you, unable to help himself he kisses you once before pulling away. He places his shirt on the desk before helping you out of your clothes being sure to kiss every patch of new skin he sees.

You feel warm underneath his dark stare as he looks down watching as his hand cups your sex- his thumb nears your clit through the material, resting just above, teasing, feeling as your wetness soaks through the fabric before pulling the material upwards sharply. You gasp from the friction, pressing your legs together with a moan before feeling your thighs become forced open, large hands gripping them apart. Jayce slowly bends down, his eyes focusing on how yours cloud over in pleasure as you feel his breath.

Your hands immediately latch onto his hair at the first feeling of his tongue giving a tentative lick, light yet the texture rough, you tilt your head back with a moan, body buzzing from the pleasure as he kisses your lower lips again and again. "P-please," you beg, locking your ankles over his shoulders and sigh contently once feeling the cloth get pulled aside, his touch amplified as one of his large fingers tease your entrance another circling around your clit- spelling out runes that your foggy mind couldn't even begin to concentrate on.

Jayce groans, he slowly pushes his finger deeper inside, the material of his gloves catching your walls- creating a pleasurable texture against as you clench down yet. He pumps his fingers at a slow pace, in an out, you should be embarrassed be the lewd sounds, by hearing Jayce chuckle. But when you try and move your hips- chasing his touch he pulls away swiftly, your legs falling off his shoulders as you pout at your boyfriend watching as he brings a finger up between his lips with a sigh, "I've missed this taste so much- so sweet."

You moan watching as me brings his fingers back down, your juices soaking through the leather of his gloves, his fingers glistening as he brings them closer to you mouth, taping your lip, signalling you to open, "Taste yourself."

You lower your jaw, feeling his fingers against your tongue before circling around them. Jayce observes you face as your eyes close, hands gripped your thighs in want while listening to Jayce's heavy breathing. You wiggle in your seat as Jayce pushes his fingers in more, teasing at the back of your throat as you gag before pulling out. "Such a good girl," he praises you.

But before you can respond, Jayce teases one large finger, then two. You grip at his wrist, feeling his lips leave lingering wet kisses across your chest before latching onto your nipple, his teeth graze it, you shiver before you feel him start to suck. You feel as a third finger slides in easily, you pulse and moan as his fingers curl to hit just the right spot inside of you. "Jayce," you whine in a high pitched tone.

"Already?" he chuckles picking his head back up. You hum out in pleasure, "Mhmm, I'm almost there Jayce, please," you beg but just before you can reach your peak, Jayce pulls away as you cry out in frustration. Jayce shushes you by gently squeezing your neck and pulling you in for a lingers kiss.

He pulls away, standing back as you grab the edge of the table in wait- watching as he uses his teeth to remove the straps around his wrists, his gloves falling off as he moves his shirt behind you. "Lay back," he says, watching as you lower yourself, slowly to the table.

Jayce unbuckles his pants, stepping out of his boots and kicking everything aside as you tilt your head up to watch him, heart racing as he sends you a wink. You will never get used to the sight of him, the size of him.

Jayce walks slowly up to you, your breath hitching once feeling his bulge rocking against your clit, the sound of your wetness catching on his boxers erotic as it echos in the empty room. Your chest is rising and falling in sort breaths, that peak closer than ever as Jayce teases you, his hands in fists beside your head, caging you in and when you open your eyes to meet his wild ones- you feel nothing but security.

"I love you, I love you so fucking much Jayce," you cry out, nails dragging against the skin of his back as he shakes, you can visibly see how much he is restraining himself in this moment. How pained he looks in his pleasure yet so focused on you, watching as his hips roll into your own, but the friction is not enough, "just loose control, love."

Jayce snaps his head back up, "what?" he says albeit a bit breathlessly. "Let go, I-I just want to feel you, Jayce, want you, need you." Jayce curses underneath his breath, his movements pausing, "are you sure?" you nod your head, "words baby," he kisses your neck. "Yes, please," you croak out and next thing you know, you are being flipped over.

Jayce positions himself, tip just teasing your leaking hole as your legs shake in wait- in want and with one sudden thrust, all the air is knocked from your lungs in a silent scream- your wrists trapped between his larger hand forcing them above your head as you lose yourself to the pleasure.

You listen to Jayce growl, "I've missed you so fucking much." You listen to the sound of skin slapping, filling the room alongside your combined moans- tears stream down your cheeks. "I'm close, Jayce!" you warn, still sensitive from earlier. "Hold on, breathe, sweetheart-"

"I can't Jayce," you sob out, feeling the fire start to form in your gut, spreading out to every vein in your body, a hand comes down on you ass. "You can and you will, baby," Jayce commands, his hips positioning down, reaching deeper than before as you freeze at the sensation starting to rise from your toes, focusing on your breathing.

You mumble blankly, feeling as Jayce kisses your shoulder blade, head becoming lighter than ever. "Good girl," he praises you with one sudden and sharp thrust. You are barley hanging on to reality to your impeding orgasm, trying to wiggle and shift your body away yet Jayce's hips just follow you. "Please, please, please," you beg like a broken record, you swore that if you were looking at yourself in this moment- you would be unrecognizable- withering underneath your boyfriend.

"Come for me. come. for. me," Jayce repeats, feeling as you clench down on his cock, choking it- watching as you bit down on your lip that forces him to release his hands from your wrists to pull it back down. "I want to hear how good I make you feel."

You moan out loudly as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, you claw at the desk, sobbing as your body shakes from the overstimulation tears welling in your eyes as Jayce praises you, "You're taking me so good baby. Your pussy feels so good around my cock, just listen to her. Gonna make you cum again, aren't I-hm?"

Jayce feels as your pussy flutters before gushing around him again with a smirk, he places his body weight atop you as you struggle to comprehend the pleasure you feeling through the endless waves crashing through your body- your blank mind as he fucks you dumb. "Nothing to say, my love? That good?" You nod yes with a sob as Jayce coo's at you, continuing his brutal pace.

"T-too much, Jayce!" you yelp, sensitivity now overwhelming- on the cusp of hurting as you bite down hard on your lip, eyes closing as Jayce hums, "you know what to do love, tell me and I'll stop." Yet you don't move, don't speak, you don't want to stop feeling him, not yet at least, teetering on the line between pain and pleasure.

Jayce picks himself back up, taking your wrists as he positions you to bend off the table. He takes in the side of your tear covered face, his marks across your neck and shoulders, how his hands created indents on your hips as he feels the markings your nails left against his back that push him just over the edge just in time with your final orgasm.

Jayce quickly pulls out, you hear him moan loudly- you feel his seed against your back, warm and dripping down your butt as he slowly helps you rest back on the table. You both are panting- coming down from your highs. Your head lolls to the side, a soft smile coating your features as you feel Jayce brushing the hair out of your face and "you did so good for me baby, so proud."

"Yours, all yours," you say back as you close your eyes, a sudden rush of tiredness rushing over you as you feel Jayce press a kiss to your temple before cleaning you up, allowing you a moment to rest.

─────── · · ⭐️

─ · · Jayce helped to redress you, your legs weak as he picked you up into your arms, your head resting against his chest as you lulled yourself to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. The only thing left behind in your cell were the pieces of a shattered blue gemstone, pulsing before fading.

─ · · By the time you were awake, you found yourself under Jayce's covers and heard the kettle click off, a record softly playing in the background as Jayce hummed along to it. You joined in, walking over humming, and grasping onto his pants, fingers looping through the empty belt buckles.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Jayce greets you, you smile, pressing your head against his back with a giggle before letting go without a word, watching as Jayce frowns, your heart swelling as you place yourself on the countertop and open your arms, wiggling your fingers as you both laugh. You pull Jayce in by the collar of his shirt- kissing him gently on the lips before moving across his jaw, stopping to cup his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm.

"I love you, Jayce."

"I love you too, always and forever."

"Kiss me?" you ask, eyes pleading, and how could he refuse?

Jayce presses his forehead against yours before capturing your lips. Pulling away, you both are breathless, you look to the side to see only your favourite breakfast items on the menu with a smile- gosh I missed your cooking.

When you look back at Jayce, your eyes go wide seeing him kneeling before you, a box in his hands, blood rushing up to your ears as you jump down from the countertop. "J-jayce? what are you doing?" you stutter through shock, your heat racing at a mile a minute.

"Not going to marry you just yet, through you will be Mrs. Talis in the future," Jayce speaks with such conviction, your heart is beating at a mile a minute. "With this ring I want to promise you that no matter what, I will always put your thoughts and needs first and I will always love you." A goofy love-sick grin is on his face but his eyes are scared yet equally hopeful. You crouch down with him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder as you cry.

Jayce's heart drops, he can't seem to touch you in this moment, can't look to you for comfort. Not feeling him returning the touch, you pull away, seeing his glossy eyes, "Whats wrong?" you ask timidly, listening to the ring drop.

Jayce opens and closes his mouth before falling back, hissing and gripping at his wrist. "Jayce? You're scaring me," you reach out again yet he slides away swearing- looking to be in immense pain, his eyes clouding over and then silence... his body falls before you as you grasp and squeeze his hand, calling back for him.

And then suddenly, he flashes back to life, gripping his head, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead, "fuck, wait, did you say yes?" He completely disregards his pain, forcing on a smile for you as you sit there in shock and horror.

"Of course, Jayce but what the fuck? Are you okay?" you ask again, giving him space this time. Jayce's stares at you, stares through you for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "I will be after this all is over but I'm better knowing I'll have you forever." You smile at his words, brain still racing with what just happened but Jayce appeared back to his regular self now, helping you to stand and finishing up breakfast.

"Sit, please. Let me take care of you like you've done for me," Jayce asks, turning from the stove with soft eyes, and how could you refuse?

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: running away and hiding now! I hope that all was at least readable/skippable... 😬

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

1K notes · View notes

softaestluv · 4 months ago

Text

Guard Dogs

You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, & Eventual smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5 | masterlist | ao3

Tupperware becomes Simon’s weak excuse to see you in the evening. Carries it across the street once he sees you return home from work that next day. Maybe he should’ve waited another day to return it; he just saw you the night before. Keep it for later in the week when the weight of the food in his stomach didn’t remind him of your warmth anymore.

Though, Simon couldn’t find the lieutenant in himself to be patient. Especially when he sees you all dolled up once again, hair pulled back to show your pretty shoulders and neck. Races over before you even have the chance to think about changing or showering. Was it such a crime to want to see you in it up close?

You open the door like you had expected him to be standing there, but maybe you were. Gave him tupperware knowing he would have to come return it, have an excuse of your own to see him again. Asked him so sweetly if he wanted to come in.

So, he does. Can’t refuse you, not when you entice him with pot roast you’ve been letting set all day. He ate your leftovers for lunch, looked forward to it, but he still didn’t seem to have his fill. Jumps at the opportunity to taste more of your cooking.

He’s not exactly sure what happened in his life that graced him with the luck to eat dinner with you two days in row. If he squints hard enough, blurs the events of today in his mind he can pretend like he came home to you, his pretty bird. Pot roast and a soft smile instead of his dark and dull home. Has half the mind to feel bad for Riley, knows he would much rather be in your company also.

He feels guilty watching you plate his food for him, offers to do it himself. He doesn’t want you to feel like you need to do that, but you insist. Tell him you want to do it for him. Can’t remember the last time someone tried to take care of him, even down to something so minuscule as sharing dinner with him.

He listens to you tell him about your day, tries his best to listen to every word. But its almost impossible to spread his attention between the tender meat that dissolves on his tongue and the way your lips glisten from the gravy. It’s rude to stare, especially when someone’s eating; he knows this. All he could do was hope you didn’t notice his intense stare, the way his pants tighten in agony everytime you smile.

It makes the night go by faster; wishes he could cling to every second, slow it down somehow so he doesn’t have to return to his cold bed so soon. But it does anyways. Finds himself walking out just as fast as he walked in. Except this time he has a new container in his hand for lunch tomorrow because you swore you made more than intended.

He eats the leftovers the next day, spends his lunch thinking about you. Spends the entire day thinking about you— like he always does. Has your food to supplement the warmth you provide. Wants to return it that evening, would it be too desperate to show up another night?

So, he doesn’t. Doesn’t want to be too overbearing, suffocate you with his presence if you don’t want him around. If you don’t want another person to feed like a stray dog. Him and Riley the stray dogs you took into your home.

Plans to return it that weekend, shamefully hopes he could recreate last Sunday with you. But the stupid plastic is forgotten on the counter when he looks out the window and sees you on your hands and knees, plucking the weeds from your yard. His feet move on their own accord, rushing to your side before he even realizes.

“What are you doin’?” He asks, voice gruff like he was disgruntled.

You look up from your spot surprised, “Jesus, Simon, you terrified me. I’m pulling my weeds?”

“Why?” It’s a grunt. A dissatisfied one. But he never said he was one for words.

Your brows furrow, placing your hand above your eyebrows to look up at him better through the sun, “So they don’t kill my plants?”

“No, why are you doing it?” He clarifies, emphasizing his words, “Don’t worry I’ll do it.”

He reaches his hand out for you to take, meaty paws engulfing your slender ones as you accept it. Rough and calloused opposes your soft and smooth palms. Standing to your feet across from him.

“Gonna hurt your pretty hands,” He murmurs, “Should’ve asked me.”

You duck your head at his words, trying your best to hide the way your cheeks warm, “It’s fine. Couldn’t ask you to do something like that.”

Just how you insisted he takes leftovers, he doesn’t take your protests as an answer. Ushers you back inside to relax, bake, take a nap, something other than sitting in the sun, ruining your pretty skin. Besides, that’s what you have him for. So, he spends the rest of his day neglecting his own chores, so he can take care of yours. Not without negotiations from you to take breaks, feed him treats and tea when you deem it long enough since he’s sat down.

And because you’re an angel on Earth, you cook dinner when he’s done. Tell him you cooked dinner for ‘us’. Tries not to read into it too much, but his chest squeezes when you refer to you and him as a pair. He attempts to protest, only because he’s covered in sweat and dirt from working all day. Probably smells, knows he does, but you don’t let him get too far.

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle, “You’re like that for me. I don’t mind. I want to have dinner with you.”

His mouth dries.

“Unless I’m keeping you from someone.”

Simon is shaking his head as soon as the words leave your mouth. Would squish them from arising in your thoughts if he could. Someone else? He almost laughs. Just a cold bed waiting for him.

“Just Riley,” He jokes.

You smile at him, “Then stay. And bring him next time.”

Served him a plate of steaming lasagna, wishes he could take you in his arms right then and there. Sweat and all.

But he doesn’t.

Digs his palms into his thighs to stop himself. Buries himself in the lasagna to shove the urges away, pretend for a second that he hasn’t been craving you more than anything you’ve placed on his plate.

“Do you want some wine?”

He’s not much of a wine drinker, prefers the burn of whiskey. Helps him blame the bitter taste in his throat on the alcohol instead of the ugly images his memories conjure. But the taste isn’t as bad when he’s with you; when you wash away pain and blood with your presence. Replace it with your food and warmth instead.

He doesn’t feel the need for something so strong around you, so he agrees. Probably stays longer than he should, sweat dried tacky on his skin, but it’s hard to walk away when the two of you move to your couch. When you sit closer to him than before. When he can feel the warmth radiating from your body. When he looks down at you and your cheeks are decorated in a pretty pink from the wine.

“I don’t drink often,” You confess.

Simon chuckles, “I can tell.”

Your cheeks burn for a different reason now, “Am I being dumb?”

His brows furrow, you’re the smartest person he knows, “What? No. I would never say that.”

“Do you drink often?” You ask.

He doesn’t want you to think bad of him, doesn’t want you to know that he craves a glass every night when he’s trying to sleep and all he can think about is his past. Doesn’t want you to know that he doesn’t feel that way when he’s with you.

“When I have a bad day.” — Just doesn’t tell you that’s most days.

You laugh, “Me too.”

He wants to ask what makes your days bad, what can he do to make sure you don’t have days like that. Ask if he makes your days better the way you do his.

You never asked about his family before even between the countless questions you asked about his life. Maybe it’s the wine in your blood system, but tonight you do. Has his heart racing in his chest because what will you think of him if he tells the truth?

He gulps before he says it, knows you can hear it, “Just me and Riley.”

He doesn’t want you to sympathize for him, doesn’t want you to treat him like a weak dog who needs your saving. Doesn’t look at you when he says it, doesn’t want to associate the empathetic stare in your eyes with you. But it never comes.

“Just me, too,” You mumble, and if he hadn’t been so close he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

He hates the way it makes him want to protect you even more. Gives him the exact feeling he was hoping you wouldn’t give him, but he does. Can’t help it when you’ve been so sweet, perfect, angelic to him. Such a kind soul even though you share similar loneliness, contrasts the evil deeds he’s done.

When he leaves, you halt him at the door. A new container presented to him despite the lack of his last return of the plastic. Lasagna filled to the brim, a muffin for breakfast you explain, and cookies for dessert. Tell him you will have more than enough dinner for him if he wants to stop by tomorrow. Doesn’t even have to stay, come and take your fill and leave if you want.

So, he returns the next day like an eager puppy when he sees you arrive home, two Tupperware containers in hand. Doesn’t even feel the need to be embarrassed when you greet him with the same tender excitement at the door.

It becomes a routine he shouldn’t grow used to; a simple cycle of returning plastic and being invited in to share dinner. Except some days there’s no lunch, no dinner, no plastic, but he still stands at your door anyways. Doesn’t need those things to see you anymore.

Most weekends he spends time at your house more than he does his own. Brings Riley with him because you insist. Works on the monstrosity of your backyard that you left to fester into a jungle. And Riley enjoys every second, runs around the yard while Simon works on it. Finds a spot on your couch when you and Simon are sharing dinner.

Thinks it might be developing too far when you buy Riley a bowl of his own for your house. Have your own collection of dog food and treats you learned he likes. Always have two plates on your table, always cook more than enough for one person even if he doesn’t show.

But that’s the thing about his occupation. Taught him not to get too used to a routine, no matter how much he wished for it.

Finds himself at your doorstep one night, no Tupperware in hand, no plans to stay. You open the door in a soft dress, prettiest smile he’s ever seen. You greet him so warmly, tell him to come inside, but he doesn’t accept.

“I have to go.”

You looked at him confused, “What?”

“My work,” He explains because he doesn’t know who else to ask, “Will you be able to dog-sit Riley?”

You nod your head, let Riley run into your home as you stare up at him.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

He watches your fingers tighten around the doorknob.

“Or if I’ll ever come back.”

He can’t even explain the emotion on your face, the feeling numbing his entire body.

“What? Simon, what are you talking about?” Your voice is shaking, fright written all over your face.

“Riley will protect you, don’t worry.”

Leaves you at that. Doesn’t have time to explain, lucky he got the chance to even bring Riley to you. Clings to the happy image of you before he left you. Both of you left to the cold alone.

Glass barrier growing incredibly thicker as he realizes he’ll never have what he wants. Knows where he belongs, on the other side of the stupid glass, but atleast Riley found where he belongs. Found warmth in your home. Even if he wishes it was him too.

tag list: @rockinraccoons @crypticenbug @c1garette-nightmares

*if I added you & you no longer wanted to be tagged for updates just let me know & I’ll take you off!! thank you!!*

665 notes · View notes