#Getting really really really really scared | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

navydoves · 3 days ago

Text

Dragon!Sylus and his habits while in heat

❥ You always knew being a dragon’s mate was going to be a bit… difficult.

affectionate habits ver.

࣪𖤐

❥ absolutely claws you. you think your scratches on his back are bad? yeah, no, try dragon claws. yes, they HURT, but they hurt SO GOOD. sylus knows how fragile humans are so he won’t ever scratch you enough to really hurt you, but he will leave marks. mating season is when you get the most scabs and bruises.

pounding into you never felt so good. he needs somewhere to release the extra excitement in him and so sylus will gets a little claw-happy. no part of your body is left untouched, he’ll mark every part to make a beautiful masterpiece of pink and red on your skin.

❥ he tries to impress you. much like a modern bird, sylus is always about impressing his mate before mating with them. sometimes for days even before he has you bent over, he’ll begin the first step of courting you, which could be done by a multitude of things.

sylus with walk around naked, flexing his muscles and shiny shimmering scales in hopes of impressing you and seeing how virile he is. not to mention he’ll obviously show off his DDDs—double dragon dicks! they’ll swing low or perk up high, thick and creamy for your enjoyment. he’s saying “hey, hey! look at me! i’m the perfect mate for you.” sometimes sylus will growl at you or make certain warning noises not to scare you, but to show you he can protect you by doing that. it’s an entire draconic ritual that will have you simultaneously confused, impressed, and most importantly, aroused.

❥ he’s so goddamn loud. sylus is not usually one for loud noises, he prefers more tame atmospheres in his home… until he’s in his heat. day and night you’ll hear him stomping and thudding into things to assert dominance. it’s to simultaneously scare people and let them know that he’s there and not to be messed with.

not only that, but he roars. his growls are pretty loud and booming too, but sylus rarely lets out a full snarl unless he’s pretty upset or pretty horny. he’ll do it to anyone, even you. except, he uses his loud noises to instill fear into others but instill submission into you. don’t like it? he’ll try to tone it down, but it’s a reflex at this point. try to close your ears while he’s coming, it’s a powerful sound of pleasure and accomplishment.

❥ he has toy eggs. sylus knows he can’t give you babies and it makes him super upset. all his heat makes him think about is giving you babies, so to cope he got toy eggs. he essentially makes you play house with him with the eggs. you have to play mama dragon and he’s daddy dragon, and daddy dragon’s job is to protect and provide for his family while mama dragon’s job is to nurture the kids.

and he genuinely does do that. he will stalk the nest he’s built for you and his toy eggs; he will bring you and the eggs food to eat in the nest; he will bathe you and the eggs with his tongue; he will legitimately get emotional if something happens to you or the eggs. he’s a little hormonally crazy but you indulge him every single time.

❥ DOUBLE TROUBLE! that’s right, you’re cock-trained to take sylus twice at a time. on a normal occasion, you’ll only take one dragon dick at a time so you’re not overwhelmed. sylus will alternate so as to not neglect either one of his cocks, but that all changes during his heat!

DDDs all shoved up your poor pussy, you’re gonna break! sylus has slowly size trained you over every occasion of sex until you could somewhat comfortably take him two at a time. it takes so much restraint but he goes slow at first and by the time you’ve calmed down and let out the tears, he’s ready to really fuck. always paying attention to you, always licking away your tears, always embracing you, sylus will still give you the ride of your life. it’s like two rollercoasters at once, so jarring but addicting. how can you even still be tight after that? it’s a mystery. 𖤐

tl: @mangobellini , @rin-dont-wear-clothes , @kentosbak3ry , @napa-the-yappa , @amaveon , @ivysorrele , @webshooterrr9, @calebandenergydrinkaddict , @ch4c0nnenh4 , @lilkactuz

1K notes · View notes

luvkimi · 3 days ago

Text

satoru "i love my wife" gojo.

the man was practically a puppy nipping at your heels. when you were dating, he attempted to be less clingy at times because he didn't want to scare you off, but since you're stuck with him forever now, he has no issue clinging to you.

you both could be in public, and his arm would be around your waist the whole time. if you're looking at something, he'll hug you from behind and rest his chin on your head until you're done looking.

and also, ever since you both got married, know that you won't be addressed as anything but 'my wife' for a while.

there's no more sweet names like baby, honey, or love. it's always 'my wife', but emphasize the 'my'.

he will literally scream the 'my' part and just normally say 'wife' because he wants everyone to know that you're his.

"do you want your usual?" satoru would ask as you both walked into a cafe, and you would nod in response while he just gave you a smile. his hand was currently interlocked with yours, and with how tight he was holding it, you knew you wouldn't be able to let go any time soon. the barista looked at you both as she gifted you a smile, and she turned her attention to satoru. "what can i get you two?" "i'll have..." satoru hummed before pointing at a coffee on the screen. it couldn't even classify as coffee—it mostly looked like foam and whipped cream with a bunch of sprinkles and mochi on it. "that one." the barista nodded as she tapped on the screen in front of her, "is that all?" "also, can MY—" the cafe fell quiet with satoru's shout, and the barista just quietly laughed once you smacked his arm. yet, the man only grinned before contiuing. "can my wife have that one?" he pointed to the screen that had your usual order, and the woman nodded. "your total is twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents." "can you write 'gojo's wife' on her cup?" the barista nodded at satoru's question, and you just frowned. yet, you didn't mean the frown. more than anything, you wanted to jump into satoru's arms and laugh at his stupidity. a few minutes later, your orders came out, and on your cup read 'gojo's wife.' when you finished your drink, you cleaned out the cup and stored it in a box with all the little trinkets satoru has given you over the years.

that's also another thing about being married to satoru—he gives you random things, and you can never tell what he's going to give you next.

one day, he'll bring you your favorite flowers, and then the next day, he'll bring you a random rock he found on the ground.

the best part about that, though, is the face he makes when he gives you the trinket.

he'll have a bright grin on his face while holding out the object in both of his hands, and if his blindfold is off, his eyes are practically shining with excitement and curiosity as to how you'll react.

and trust me, he memorizes how you react. that's one of the things you love most about him. he pays attention.

if you get really happy over one gift, he'll start bringing things like that around more. if you only smile at him and thank him for the gift, expect to find those things in the trash later.

he wants all your trinkets and gifts to be things that make you insanely happy—not just meh.

though, he doesn't just pay attention to how you react over trinkets. he memorizes everything about you.

he can tell your mood from the tiniest things.

if your eye twitches even the slightest bit, he knows you're irritated and will get rid of whatever is bothering you. if the corners of your lips fall down for a split second, he knows you're upset and will try to make you laugh. if you narrow your eyes, he knows you're mad, and will try to calm you down.

the reason he does this is because he wants you to know that he does pay attention, for he never wants you to feel neglected.

another thing he does is that he will have a serious conversation with you on the oddest topics.

his tone will make people think that he's talking about the earths issues or whatnot, but in reality, he's just talking about how it's stupid some birds have wings but then they can't fly.

"what do you mean ostriches can't fly because they're too heavy? are you calling them fat?" satoru frowned at you from where he sat—slowly resting his head on the kitchen island while you rummaged through the fridge for dinner ideas. "yes, i am calling them fat. they're too heavy to fly." your answer only made satoru pout. "then why do they have wings at all!? it's like false advertising for birds—can you even call them birds at that point if they can't fly!?" "birds are defined by their wings, feathers, and beak." "okay, first of all, you're a nerd." satoru commented as you walked over to the kitchen island, and you leaned against it while staring at satoru. "and secondly, that's stupid. wings are supposed to help you fly. like, why do penguins have wings?" "they're flippers, toru." "SHUT UP! THEY LOOK LIKE WINGS!"

now, satoru does a lot of random things, but a favorite has to be when your phone camera is on.

no, not just on him, but you as well.

your selfies? most of them have him in it. it's either his hand is in a peace sign, his arm is wrapped around you, or he secretly leans his head in frame and sticks out his tongue.

your mirror photos? his arm is wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder, or if he's shirtless, he will step behind you and flex.

you complain, but you always end up looking back at those photos with a smile.

now, when the camera is on him, he does take it seriously. many think he would be funny with it, but satoru knows he's handsome.

so, he has to make sure all of your photos of him are good-looking so when you look back at them—he knows you look back at them—you remember how amazing he is.

but if you asked him to be silly, he just has to do it.

not because he wants to, but because you want him to.

he'd do anything for you, which is why he's satoru 'i love my wife' gojo.

he would legally change his middle name to that if it proved to you that he is hopelessly in love with you.

a/n : someone's reblog text of one of my other writings inspired this.

comments & reblogs are appreciated !!

#@𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢 #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo #gojo x reader

1K notes · View notes

slowfuckintheafternoon · 1 day ago

Text

18+ only please and thank you

Roommate Ghost who’s basically a rehomed cat.

You barely saw him at first. He’d come out of his room to do laundry, and you’d occasionally spot the back of him as he’s leaving for work, but otherwise it was like living with a ghost. A large, moody ghost who seemed to think eye contact was an unforgivable breach of privacy.

So you did the obvious thing, and coaxed him out with food. You’re lonely, he seems nice enough, and he’s also just conveniently there. It’s no big deal to make something that smells really wonderful when he’s home, and hope he’ll take the bait.

It takes three whole entire dinners. Two delicious meals without so much as a stir from his room, and you’re just about to give up on the whole scheme, when you’re finally rewarded with a tousled head poking out of his room on the third attempt.

“Want some?” you immediately pipe up, giving him an encouraging smile while you scoop noodles into your bowl. Realizing your mistake, you quickly relocate your gaze back to the food, so as not to scare him off.

Cmon, take the bait. Come on out, kitty. You know you want it.

Silent as ever, your massive roommate indeed emerges to fill his belly.

A soft, “Thanks,” is all you get for your efforts, but it thrills you. You sit there practically vibrating with glee, trying to play as cool as possible while you both eat and purposefully don’t speak to each other. There’s just chewing and silence, and the quiet clatter of spoons and forks, and you love it.

The next day, the contents of your personal grocery list have magically appeared in your refrigerator. The meat you needed, vegetables, your special milk for your cereal. Bemused, you step over to your pantry and verify that, yes, he got the dry stuff too. You weren’t planning to cook anything fancy two days in a row, but hell, if he’s around again tonight, you might as well.

But he’s not around. You don’t see him again for several weeks, never even got a text that he was leaving. You were just starting to make progress, and now it’ll all be erased when he returns. You lost your one window of opportunity for building trust, and it’ll be back to silence, back to emptiness, back to being strangers.

But to your surprise, when he does finally come home, he meows at you.

Not officially. Not in, like, actual cat language, but he drops his bag by the door and responds to your quiet greeting with a heavy sigh, and, "It’s good to be back.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, so you quickly hide it by staring at the TV.

He joins you for dinner the next time you cook. And the next. Groceries pop up like spring flowers, anything you write down, even if it’s snacks he never touches.

He starts hanging out with you while you cook. On the other side of the counter at first, looming like a dark shadow, just listening to your music and offering answers to your small talk.

You keep it light. Keep it friendly and easy, and entice him over occasionally to taste what you’re making. He starts lingering closer, letting the kitchen light touch him, leaning against your side of the counter. The scary side.

And then one day he tells you a joke. Just completely out of the blue, “What do you call an angry carrot?”

“Uhh…” you pause peeling carrots for a second, trying to wrap your head around some scenario where this is a legitimate question, because surely he's not about to tell you an actual joke. “I dunno?”

“A steamed vegetable.”

You return to your carrots with a delighted laugh. He's being friendly, he's making jokes! Best not comment on the progress he's made, because you don’t want to scare him off.

Good luck with that.

He starts following you around like an actual stray cat. You can’t bear to close the door on him, so he’s just always there, hanging out in the doorway, telling you little bits about his day while you brush your teeth for bed. He doesn’t talk a whole lot, prefers to listen to you yap, but he’s shut in his room less and less.

Except for the bad times. Simon goes through phases where he recluses himself again. Sometimes it’s only a few hours, other times it’s days, but he occasionally needs time to himself, and you don’t mind. You still get a thrill every time he appears again, metaphorically meowing at you and rubbing up against your leg.

God, you wish he would. You could use some good leg rubbing, actually.

Is he the rubbing type? He’s never made a pass at you, never touched you at all, and even the times when you’ve hung out together in your room, he always stood politely in the doorway. Always turned his head to the side when you’ve had to open your underwear drawer or spilled sauce on your shirt and had to strip it off. He’s just like that, always aware of your personal space and his, uncomfortable about the two bubbles touching without warning.

When it finally happens, it's you who's surprised.

You've just halted mid-step in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at the corner of the cabinets because you swear you just saw something move.

When all of a sudden, and actual mouse scampers across the floor, doing erratic zig zags like it's too scared to decide where to go, and all you can do is scream because it's coming right for you--

A thick arm clamps around your stomach, and your feet abruptly lose contact with the floor. You've completely lost track of the mouse, you're just frozen in shock from the fact that your whole back is glued to Simon's side, and he doesn't even bother to hold you up with both arms as he swivels around searching for where the mouse went.

"Thanks," you squeak, patting his forearm as a signal to put you down. "You're really strong, holy shit."

He grunts like he doesn't agree. "Doesn't take much to lift somebody."

Your feet touch back down to the linoleum, and you just hope your hot face isn't too evident. "Right, uh huh. Cause I could definitely lift you."

"Probably could."

You eye him skeptically, all the way from his socks, to the always-mussed hair at the top of the mountain. "I don't feel like throwing out my back, but thanks for the offer."

"I wasn't offering."

It's just small talk. Regular jokes, with his usual deadpan delivery, but you swear there was something he meant to say in those words. You try to discern them, gazing up into those brown eyes that don't mind meeting yours anymore.

It's hanging in the air, the thing he meant to say. You don't want to try and guess. It's too risky, and you might hurt yourself if you get it wrong.

"What is it, Simon? What's wrong?"

His eyes stutter for just a second, like he's ripping himself out of a train of thought. "I think you should hide in your room while I find that mouse."

Stupid, cockblocking mouse.

You don't sleep well that night. You keep thinking about your quiet roommate, end up having to jerk off at two in the morning just to get a little bit of relief, and your sleep is fretful even after that.

You ask about the mouse the next day, and he swears he not only caught it, but released it in the woods a mile away. There's absolutely no telling if he's pulling your leg or not, so you just drop it, too absorbed in the questions that were haunting you all night.

"I'm not good at... fucking."

Your head snaps up, staring wide eyed at Simon's troubled expression across the table. "What?"

"I've never been with a woman before. At least, not... like this. Wager I'll make a fool of myself, so I might as well get it out in the open."

"Oh. Um." Your heart is pounding, your mind whirling to comprehend how you got here so suddenly. He looks so scared, holding himself rigidly into place without so much as blinking, and you're taking far too long to answer at this point.

"I'm good at it," you finally tell him, hoping it sounds more comforting and less like a brag. "We can figure it out together, if it's something you want to do."

"Okay."

It takes a little while to get there. Some time to find a natural moment to take his hand in yours, for him to return the gesture by wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing your body over to his. But then his hand finds the back of your neck, and he's definitely not a beginner at kissing.

You've wanted it for so long, imagined it so often, that the press of his body against yours almost feels familiar. The seeking movements of his lips, the soft breaths coasting over your cheek. It's quiet and slow, in the corner of your shared kitchen.

He tucks your body into his, lets you saturate yourself in each second of this moment while you both learn the way the other likes to kiss. You end up in your bed soon after, just for the sake of comfort and lining up your mouths a little more conveniently.

It's easy to lose yourself in the safety of him. Your body feels at home in the muscled softness of his, in the thoughtful, patient movements of his hands exploring under your clothes. It feels like he's belonged to you far sooner than today.

His first time isn't perfect, but he makes up for his inexperience by taking his time. Laughs at your breathless, "a hole is a hole" statement, and insists on exploring with his mouth and fingers first.

Simon makes the prettiest noises when he finds your wetness waiting for him. He seems to enjoy the feeling of it on his fingers, sliding them in and out so carefully, studying the textures inside you. He tastes his own fingers, less like a scientist and more like a little kid who's discovering new flavors in the sandbox.

He makes a sound then, a warm, rumbly one, and then pulls his fingers out of his mouth to lean down and find your clit with his lips.

A hole is a hole, but there's something special about whispering little cues at him in the dark, and the way he efficiently adjusts himself, ever the dedicated soldier. A hole is a hole, but you cum like that, with your roommate's strong hand gripping your hip, and his mouth accomplishing exactly the motion you need to draw a slow, brain-melting orgasm out of you.

"Yeah, just like that," you pant a few moments later, shoving his face away from your oversensitive pussy.

Just like that.

#simon ghost riley #cod ghost #call of duty #x reader #fem reader #chewchewchew #ghost x reader

1K notes · View notes

scared-lantern · 2 days ago

Text

convalescence

pre execution lamb :( slight spent a few months in a dungeon after being captured by here with hid mother, during this time due to the conditions in the prison slight gets very ill, alerting the bishops to his existence, they then decide slight would make the best vessel for them and take him out the dungeon to a clinic in anchordeep where he recovers.

Slight doesn't remember the extraction and noone is telling him much more than that he was saved by the bishops and Chosen to help the bishops (die and be a terrible vessel to narinder and give the bishops more time to make a more permanent way to stop his return)

Slight then assumes that his mum and the other sheep in the prison were liberated too. (they were not, Slights mother is executed shortly after her child is taken from her arms D: )

slights main caretaker during this time is saleos, everyone else is too scared to talk much to The Blessed Vessel, Child Of Fortune, Bringer Of The End ect ect Bla Bla Bla (the bishops love giving them any title but his own name apperently) and keep thier distance (slight also does not really know why they avoid him) saleos manages to entertain them quite a lot with stories of anchordeep and the various uses of crystals,

To be honest, he knows barely anything about his situation but is too nervous to ask anything in case it's taken away, it's probably the first time slights ever had a guaranteed 3 meals a day and a comfy bed to sleep on and soft good quality clothing (and especially after spending so long in the dungeon he's not rushing to get those luxuries taken from him)

I just had to recover the file to fix 1 minor mistake, it took 30 minutes to recover. I'm not mad. not mad at. all :)

eugh also sorry o haven't posted much art recently, I have so many wips almost dine but can't be bothered finishing them and I have been sketching more recently, I feel like my sketches aren't "good enough" to post, which is a bit silly and frankly shows I don't have much going on rn of thats my main worry which is good bc it's only annoying but wow it's annoying! it literally doesn't matter idk why the thought of showing only sketching g is making me shiver in my timbers but whatever :p

oughhh I've been thinking abt my goat recently oughhhhh need to post abt her I love her sm she's so stupid ❤️

#art #cult of the lamb #digital art #cotl lamb #artists on tumblr #illustration #cotl #cotl au #handpicked prophet au #losing my mind this was supposed to be a more simple drawing but took 11 hours :p #alledgegly. according to ibis paint :/#woops

630 notes · View notes

killishin · 3 days ago

Text

— ♡ my pretty neighbour.

PART 01.

PAIRING: jason todd x witch! reader

CONTENT WARNING: afab reader, blood, violence, alcohol, mention of assaults, more to be added.

CATEGORY: shit ton of fluff and sfw, maybe angst?

SUMMARY: a witch trying her best to lay low and live her life, while being out of every gothams vigilante's radar. turns out red hood had been her neighbour all along. also they have cute little pets.

WC: 4k

A/N: another jason fic yep. i didn't really have a solid idea but i just really wanted to write something so.... enjoy!

fic masterlist. next.

dividers by @cursed-carmine

gotham is filled with all kinds of criminals, masterminds, lunatics, druglords— you name it. each has done such horrible deeds that it has scarred hearts and souls of every innocent, each has a certain level of craziness in them that requires insane amount of intellect to even catch them. and despite the vigilantes giving their utmost best, everyday having to push themselves to think better, be faster... criminals still hide in those dark alleys, unbound and free.

so you can't really blame the protectors of the city, as they like to call themselves, to be cautious of every activity that goes on in the city. they are understandably hostile to superheroes who try to help, a bit too hostile sometimes in your opinion, but maybe the massive workload makes them snippy.

being a witch and living in gotham is a bit tough therefore, you not only have to hide your powers from the normal people but also from the vigilantes. you do not want to be evicted out of the only city where you can afford the rent, that too without any dignity since witches are sort of still discriminated by the myths and fake stories. still, its understandable, mankind has always been afraid of what they can't control or understand.

you had been ridiculously meticulous in your choice of residence, not like you had much choice to begin with. but you had scouted out the area as best as you could to your needs, and upon confirming that there wasn't much vigilante sighting in the neighborhood, you had finally settled.

a barista's salary didn't really help much, but you didn't really have much needs. your only goal was to live a drama free, quiet life where you could experiment with your little spells (harmless ones.. of course) and, the most important, provide for your little gentleman, alfred, a cute little doberman (he's huge). that was your goal, the ideal life you chased— should chase. but often a heart's desire overwhelm the logic of mind.

you have a penchant for getting into trouble. having promised to never get involved in anything that might shed light upon your existence, you strayed from that promise more often than not. all for good deeds, mostly.

"this is the third time this month. i have got to practice some self control." you sigh as you nudge the body of the man on the ground, groaning and coughing up blood. your brows furrow in mild annoyance as you kick his thigh this time.

"i didn't even use a strong spell! come on you wuss!" you softly groaned to yourself before sighing as you looked away for a moment, scratching your brow with your nail. the blood wasn't a problem, to be honest you wouldn't give a crap if he died. he was assaulting a sweet old man, punching him to death— you just had to step in.

...maybe you stepped in too much. now his arm is twisting at an odd angle, you were supposed to teach him a simple lesson. just give him some scare that'll scar him for life. now he got a bonus broken arm.

you've left one too many mens like that lying and crying, and it'll only be a matter of time before they lead those pesky vigilantes to your doorstep.

you put on a spell that altered his memory of your face, in case he saw it, before turning around to be on your merry way. but cue gotham weather's shitty timing, it starts pouring hard.

"mother nature you're really teasing me today..." you murmured sarcastically to yourself, yet sauntering off unbothered, rain never bothered you much anyway. you just hate how the clothes get all damp and clingy, weighing down your body.

by the time you reach your place you're visibly drenched to the bone, humming some tune under your breath, totally not seeing the man walking ahead of you. and so consequently you bump into his back, eyes widening for a moment as you stepped back with an apology right on your tongue.

but they die on your lips when you see the most brilliant bluish green eyes glance back at you, bitter and hostile. but you've always had a weak spot for pretty things, and when the man turns fully, you note he is the most prettiest man you've ever laid your eyes on.

you're far too lost in admiring him that you fail to notice the slight shift in his demeanor. after all, jason was already in a wretched mood and the next second he turns around to see an absolutely drenched women staring back at him. he isn't that easily fazed, your skin glistens, the damp and dripping hair clinging to the side of your face, that makes you look gorgeous but he's seen gorgeous. your eyes though— they seem unreal. feel unreal. there's just something otherworldly about it— ethereal even. and he's not among those to be poetic.

you realise you've been staring for a second too long and the silence becomes awkward real quick, you blink and step back with a polite smile. "sorry. i uh— wasn't looking where i was going." his brow raised slightly at your politeness, seemingly even more sweet due to your low and honeyed voice.

"no problem." he murmured casually, his voice even more grumpy and rougher than usual, a tough night and patrol hasn't even started. he then turned around and ascended the stairs, and so did you, lagging behind by two steps. you couldn't make the pretty man uncomfortable after all.

but he noticed you following him floor after floor, stopping right when he did at his floor before your steps softly followed behind him again. when he reached his door he turned around, and found you looking back at him with the same confusion.

"...hi neighbour?" you jokingly whispered with a hesitant smile but he didn't.

"how long have you been living here?" that came out more as an interrogative question than a confused one and it made your brows raise in amusement. this one's got a feisty side.

"a few months. wasn't aware anyone lived there." you replied back coolly with a smile that bordered serene yet sultry. his eyes dropped down to it for a small second, narrowing slightly as if the smile irritated him. it indeed irritated him because of the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of it.

"I've lived here for more than a year. never seen you before." he retorted like he's insinuating an accusation and your lips pull to a slow grin.

"you're awfully stingy for a pretty neighbour." you remark, your nose scrunching up in fake disappointment as you unlock your door.

stingy?

"pretty? " he didn't know what of those words baffled him more, yet that was the one that had to come out of his mouth.

"and interrogative. are you in the gcpd or something?" you asked as you leaned your weight against your door which was slightly ajar.

"no. you're the one interrogating now." he scoffed quietly as he turned around, fetching his key out his pocket.

"seems like you don't know the difference between making conversation and interrogation." you lightly chuckle and thats when he realised its your voice thats the root of the irritation being caused in his already irritated mind. its irritatingly sweet and honeyed— addictive may be the right word.

"that's your version of making conversation?" he scowls as he opened his door and stepped inside while your grin widened, he finds your amusement at his expense really insulting.

"only with pretty, grumpy neighbours."

"and is that your way of flirting? cus its not effective."

"slow down, pretty boy. if you think this is flirting then clearly you haven't been properly flirted with before. how sad." if he can't handle your teasing, he'd be a downright mess when you actually flirt then. and those reddened embarrassed cheeks simply intensify the want to flirt with him.

he gives you one last scathing glare before shutting the door on your face. a chuckle quietly escapes your lips as you call out a loud "goodnight!" which you're probably sure he heard and frowned even more.

you step in your apartment and close the door, flicking on the candles with a swish of your hand. you could just switch on the lights but you secretly love the theatrics. a quick spell could dry you but a warm shower would probably help you more.

and it does help you, you're more relaxed and less tense. your muscles feels like mush just like your head. and yet, as you lay on your bed, your eyes are open wide and awake. you're a bit of an insomniac. its a bother and inconvenience but just like ever other nuisance in your life, you've gotten used to it.

just like always you get up, grab a grimoire and your reading glasses, learning a spell or two. it usually takes you more than an hour to understand and practice and most nights it ends up with something getting on fire or your own self. you suppose that's the fun part.

and again, like always, you get bored and lay back on your bed. this time the pretty neighbour occupies your mind, beauty aside, it is a question that you met him just today when he claims to have been living for a year. why didn't you bump into him before?

you hoped for no trouble, yet something tells you he'll make you be neck deep in one.

"again? " jason frowned as he dropped to the ground with a muted thump of his boots, not a noise at his landing, its like second nature to him.

"third this month." oracle spoke through the comms and jason crouched infront of the little blood that was splattered across the gritty pavement, the rain had washed off most of it yet some stayed, seeped into the earth like a taint.

"some random person reported it almost an hour ago and he was taken to get treated." oracle continued and jason scoffed sarcastically, "you're telling me the cops beat me to it? that's a first."

she simply rolled her eyes at that, "i checked his background. a typical small time thief, arrested quiet a few times for mugging and burglary."

he grunted as a response and looked around but nothing else was amiss. with a sigh he got up, "someone's doing our work here. unfortunately for us they're pretty good at it."

"not for long." Jason's brows furrowed a bit on reflex as bruce's voice came in, "they're bound to slip."

"they haven't for the last two month. maybe they might never." course he agreed with bruce, but where's the fun in agreeing?

"they will. and we have to catch them. they're a threat to the city—"

"times like these, wish i was deaf."

"what was that?"

Jason's not that worried about the mysterious person on the loose beating up criminals, he's sure they were probably in the act of committing a crime to deserve this. but bruce's worry has a point, they need to know who it is. not everyone's a protector. they may be saving right now, but is that all they're doing?

jason knows first-hand how times change, how fast people change. how deceiving time could be, how deceiving humans can be.

his mind is immediately pulled to you at that thought, someone who looks pretty harmless, eyes that are both innocent yet alluring like a siren's. you looked even more helpless and naive in your drenched form. yet all it took was for you to smile and that image shattered.

that smile was a warning in itself, an omen as if. innocence might be something of a past to you, your eyes held no fear, no apprehension. your smile was steady and dangerous, he's a man who has fought back death, rendered men almost lifeless with just his fist— and still his gut told him you were not to be taken lightly. harmless you might be, for now, but not innocent.

he returned back at his place at dawn, grunting and groaning at the sore muscles that ached here and there.

"at this point im gonna age faster than alfred." he murmured to himself with an almost pout. a quick shower and some television were supposed to really tire him out, but sleep escaped him. insomnia the trouble of yet another person.

and he doesn't really leave his place much, but today he felt like it. maybe a walk might help him. its still early so he doubts the streets to be that busy.

he really should have thought this through.

"hey pretty neighbour." he gave a deadpanned stare to that same amusing smile of yours.

"ooh you don't seem like a morning person." you pretend to frown, still locking your door before turning around with a wink, "i know you for less than twelve hours and we already have something in common. is this destiny's sign for something more? " you said dramatically, taking huge delight at his annoyance.

"no, but my headache's a perfect sign for nothing ever." he quietly snapped as he slammed his door shut a little too hard tugging on his hood over a bit before walking away.

"so you do have sarcasm." came your voice not too far behind him, but he knows you're not following him. he saw your clothes when he stepped out, formal and perfectly ironed for work. maybe it really was the rain that gave him the innocent illusion last night.

he sighed as he started descending the stairs, shaking his head as he immediately regretted his decision for this walk.

"you talk a lot." he called out and heard your quiet chuckle in response, "you talk too less." his steps became hurried and your grin simply widened.

"would you tell me your name if i ask you?" you asked him, your smile barely contained and he rolled his eyes, "think you already know the answer."

soon both of you stepped out on the pavement and you turned to face him with a teasing smile, "guess I'll just call you pretty neighbour then."

you waved at him goodbye before he could turn the other way, and yelled "bye pretty neighbour!" as loud as you could, making sure it'll turn heads.

his eyes widened for a moment before he glared at you in disbelief, then swiftly turned around to walk away from imminent embarrassment. maybe it was better if he never knew he had a neighbour next door, no matter how beautiful you are. he sighed to himself as your smile flashed in his mind, unfortunately you really were beautiful. damn you.

you loved your barista job, after all it involved brewing and you were, not to brag, quite the master at it. you kept your conversations with the customers at a minimal, there's no need to involve in idle chatter with them. your coworkers though are a bunch of sweethearts, mostly, so its never a headache working there.

but sometimes some assholes walk in, harassing the workers, some be rude to you about the order even when its made just like they want— but you do what you gotta do to survive.

when you're returning on your way back home, your mood's sour than usual. you don't have it in you to even smile. all anyone would want after a shitty day at job, is the damn bed. even if you can't sleep.

but, the world always tests you on your worst days.

you stop dead in your tracks just a few steps away from your unit, whose door is wide open by the way. your senses heightened and every spell on the tip of your tongue. you didn't have to worry about all your witchy things being stolen or affected since they're all safely locked in a cupboard bound by a spell, unseen by anyone other than you. your important things are also spell bound to your home so no thief can take them out of your apartment.

no, what you're worried about is alfred.

you peaked inside in your own home, the lights were on. you slowly pushed the door without making a sound, a little proud at the creaky door to not give you away today.

suddenly your eyes caught the top of someone's head peaking from behind your dining table— alfred's there too! your eyes widened and your brows furrowed into an angry glare.

"step the fuck away from alfred!" you extended your hand, about to cripple the hell out of whoever that is— but then you see your pretty neighbour straighten up fast and alfred perk up before rushing to you, all smiles and happy.

"woah woah chill— wait who??? " his initial shock subsided to one of pure confusion as he stood there with his hands raised.

ignoring him you crouched down to alfred's height, checking him for any injury because heaven knows if there is one, then that pretty neighbour might not leave the world very pretty—

"he's fine." he said as he slowly rounded the table before stopping short at the sight of your glare. it was... a change, different. he had the impression of you being as much of a nuisance as dick is, if not more. but right now all your eyes hold is hostility and distrust.

"i'll be the judge of that." you snapped at him before plastering a helpless smile for alfred who, suddenly, very surprising of him, trotted back to your neighbour. and you just stayed rooted to your position as your mind errored because what the fuck????

alfred barely ever lets anyone touch him. he had a difficult time when he was just a puppy in an abusive household. he only trusted two people, one is you and your best friend.

you look up at the neighbour with the same dumbfounded expression and for the first time he found it in himself to smile, it was a bit cocky but a smile nonetheless.

"you... what.. what did you do to him? and why the hell did you break into my apartment?" you questioned as you rose to your full height, regarding him suspiciously.

he gave you an unimpressed look at your immediate assumptions before sighing, "i was in my apartment when i heard him growling. loudly. then he started barking. turns out someone was lurking outside of your apartment."

"what?"

"yeah. he had already picked the lock actually, acted like he was opening the door and claimed that he lived there. if i hadn't met you last night, i might have been given him the benefit of doubt. when i confronted he said he was dating you. but i knew that was bullshit." he shrugged like it was no trouble.

you were a bit stunned. yes you thought of him pretty, maybe a nice man but you never expected him to be nice, you never expect anyone to be nice. the world had taught you time and time again that humanity is scarce and kindness is a luxury.

"oh." you murmured before lightly shaking your head, "oh that's— thank you. i- where's that man now?"

his lips slightly tugged up in amusement at your stunned look, feeling maybe a teensy bit of pride to wrong whatever misconception you had of him. "he lives two floors up actually. don't worry i made sure he will be kicked out."

"....thanks." you mumbled out before rubbing the side of your face, you hated being in the wrong, and awkward and embarrassing situations like this. how the hell did you miss an asshole like that? you thought you knew everyone from the apartment as a safety measure.

"i- um sorry i assumed and accused you." you took his words as final because alfred was literally sat near his feet. alfred's a great judge of character.

but this time he didn't scoff or smirk, instead there was a soft smile on his face. he understood your anger after all. "s alright. i understand i also have—"

you froze when you felt something brush by your feet, something very soft and— "meow."

you looked down and there it is, a very adorable, very extra soft siamese cat, who is now staring down alfred like he wronged all her ancestors.

you look up at him with raised brows and with a tired sigh he points at himself, confirming your assumption.

"sorry-"

"can i pet?" you asked softly, looking up at him with such hopeful eyes that all he could do was nod. you crouched down and approached the cat carefully, extending your hand. the cat inspected a little before rubbing against your hand.

"who's this beautiful little baby?" you mused, grinning wide as you scratched the cat.

"... miss pearl." he mumbled too quietly but you have good ears, and unlike how he expected you to laugh at that, you simply smiled in great approval.

upon remembering something his brows furrowed again, "um sorry what did you say his name was?" he pointed at alfred and you looked up at him with most proud smile. "alfred."

"huh." that's a really funny coincidence and a small laugh started spilling out his lips slowly. you looked up at him with furrowed brows, "what?"

"no. nothing. great name."

"are you making fun of him?"

"you really think i would?"

"...hm."

you got up finally and smiled at him, it didn't have that sultry undertone— just a smile.

"again, thank you." you said and he nodded suddenly finding his cat more interesting to look at, his ears reddening.

"uh your place. great aesthetic huh." he said, diverting the topic and you looked around. it didn't look that much like a typical witch's home, but there were too many candles everywhere that normally, normal people don't really have.

his eyes narrowed a bit as he smiled amusingly, he did find that... eccentric.

there was a beat of silence as you looked at candles at literally every flat surfaces.

"i just really like candles. they're scented." you said with the most convincing smile you could conjure up. he didn't buy it, but didn't question it either. gotham is filled with every sort of weird after all.

slave to your habit you still ran your eyes around your apartment, while he picked up miss pearl, but everything was at its place. you really gotta put a spell on the damn door now, the lock had already been weak.

he was almost in his unit before you called out behind him, "all this help and you still won't give me a proper introduction?" that teasing tone was back in your voice.

he sighed in exasperation as he turned around, but weirdly enough, to reasons unknown to him, his ears felt warm again.

"jason."

"jason.." you grinned wide and replied back with your name before winking at him. he simply gave a deadpanned stare before shutting his door.

he let pearl go from his arms, while staring off at a distance, his eyes a little hazy as his mind repeated the way you said his name. shaking his head he scoffed, you were nothing more than just a weird little neighbour.

come next morning he's about to head to bed when he heard a knock. his brows furrowed as he wondered who the hell is bothering him this early. but there was no one when he opened the door, nothing but a small little tin box on the floor with designs engraved on it.

he picked it up suspiciously before taking off the lid, in there were some... tea bags? there was also a note, in there was a little message written in neat words.

this helps with insomnia. its my personal favorite too. hope you do know how to brew some tea.

your pretty neighbour ;)

now he realises what exactly feels weird when he sees you, its his silly little heart.

reblogs are appreciated! :))

taglist: @deadbeatphobos @lettucel0ver @fixated29

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood fluff #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #red hood angst #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dc fluff #dc fanfiction #dc x reader #dc x you

592 notes · View notes

jinuaei · 3 days ago

Text

Fuck it, lets start slow yeah? Also slight spoilers on Predator: Killer of Killers

Those collars that translate stuff, instead of putting it on you, your own yautja (yandere ofc) would wear it instead. He knows how cumbersome it is to wear such a demeaning object, so he sacrifices his own dignity so that he could understand you. And if he could, he would definitely make sure that it's only him that could understand you with that collar (though other yautjas could use their own collar if they really want to).

The yautja that has chosen you as his ooman seems to enjoy your presence (unbeknownst to you of course), but he has been stalking you for a while and you fear that he would attack you suddenly. But he never did, no, instead he approached you in a way that one would approach a scared animal, his arms wide open and his mandibles clicking and purring to soothe your nerves.

He points to the collar on his neck, metallic and heavy, before pointing to you. You shook your head of course, you don't want to wear a collar! But he does it again, this time speaking in his language, voice soft and deep.

"Ooman speak," the sudden robotic voice emanating from the collar startles you, and the predator purrs again to calm you down. It worked tremendously as you felt your muscles relax.

"Speak?"

"...Hi...?"

The purrs grow louder and the yautja shows... happiness? On it's face.

"I, closer?" He asks, tilting his head.

"You...wanna get closer?"

He nods, dutifully waiting for your approval.

"Sure, I guess?" His mandibles clicks approvingly before getting closer and closer until you are face to chest with him. You gave him permission to come close, but you did not expect him to come this close. As one would react normally, you step backwards in shock, but what you did not expect was him stepping forwards as soon as you did it.

You both moved in tandem, you trying to get away, and him wanting to stay in your personal space. The dance ended when you are pinned between a wall and another, fleshier — but muscular! — wall.

The whole time his purrs did not stop, instead, it got louder and louder the closer he got, and this time, you felt it vibrate your whole body when he nuzzles close to your neck.

"Ooman... smell good."

You did not know whether to be disgusted or be scared, so you stayed there, still like a statue.

"Ooman not be scared, I, protect you."

Well then... considering that you literally can't do anything against a yautja, you just accepted whatever is happening. But you should really tell him to stop sniffing and licking your neck.

#Yandere yautja x reader #yautja x reader #Yandere predator x reader #predator x reader #predator franchise #yandere x reader #yandere

470 notes · View notes

midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 days ago

Note

Amazing! Now the opposite: compleatly silent reader. Like they dont make any noise at all and scare the fuck out of everyone.

"AAAAAHH! Shit! How long have you been here?!"

"About two hours?"

"Damn... put some bells on your boots or something"

Dead Silent

Pairing: Poly 141 x Silent!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, humor, mild jump-scare style reactions, slow burn polyamory, established team dynamics, reader is very stealthy (like Ghost x10), mild swearing

Author’s Note: This one was so fun to write! I loved flipping the trope from makes noise constantly to makes zero noise and freaks everyone out. The boys are baffled, scared, and absolutely head-over-boots for you. I might continue this later on so we’ll see! Stay tuned!!

Summary: You’re the quietest thing the team’s ever seen—an operative so silent you sneak up on Ghost. But even without words, you’ve got all four of them wrapped around your finger.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

"AAAAAHH! Shit!"

Soap nearly launched the mug across the mess hall. Kyle yelped beside him, clutching his chest.

You stared blankly, standing directly behind them, tray in hand. No expression. No noise. Just... there.

Gaz took a deep breath. "How long have you been there?"

You blinked slowly.

"About two hours," came the calm response from behind you. Price. The only one seemingly unbothered.

"Two hours?" Soap hissed, eyes wide. "Mate, put some bloody bells on your boots or something."

You sat down without a word, not a single clink from your tray. Not even the scrape of your chair.

Ghost entered just in time to see the aftermath—Soap still twitching, Gaz mumbling to himself, Price sipping tea like nothing happened.

"They jump again?" he asked, glancing at you.

You shrugged.

"You're worse than me," Ghost muttered, almost... impressed.

No one ever heard you coming. Not during drills. Not during breakfast. Not during missions.

Price called it a gift.

Ghost called it "creepier than death itself."

Soap called it "a bloody health hazard."

Even when the team tried to track you on missions, you vanished. You never spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, your voice was soft—so soft it made people wonder if they'd imagined it.

One night, during a late recon op, the four men sat around a campfire, chatting low while waiting on a signal.

"She's not even real," Soap whispered, glancing into the woods. "She’s a myth. A rumor. She’s the wind."

"She’s behind you," Gaz said flatly.

Soap whipped around. You were crouched five feet away.

"FUCK—!"

"Didn’t mean to scare you," you murmured, voice as calm and deadpan as ever.

"Didn’t mean—!" Soap clutched his heart. "One day you’re gonna give me a cardiac arrest and I’m gonna thank you for it, aren’t I?"

You tilted your head. "Maybe."

That was the moment Soap knew he was screwed.

Ghost, who prided himself on being the stealthiest of the 141, found himself constantly surprised by your presence. You moved through the base like fog—silent, sudden, and impossible to grasp. But what really got him? You never interrupted. You just... waited. Watched. Listened. It unnerved him at first. Then it fascinated him.

Gaz couldn’t get over the calm in your silence. You didn’t fill the space with noise. You just were. When you did speak to him, it felt like a privilege. A gift. Like the universe had chosen him to receive one of your rare, quiet words.

Price? He watched you like a cat watches a laser dot. Curious. Amused. Then thoughtful. Then entranced. You didn’t need noise to lead. You moved through the world on your own rules. And damn if he didn’t admire it.

The four of them didn’t realize they’d fallen for you until the day you disappeared during a raid.

No sound.

No sign.

Just gone.

Panic wasn’t often in their vocabulary—but it was that day.

Price paced. Ghost scanned rooftops. Soap radioed so much it started glitching. Gaz swore under his breath, loading and reloading a mag without thinking.

Then, as the sun dipped low, you appeared.

Not a sound.

Just walking out of the smoke.

Holding the USB drive they needed.

Covered in ash, completely calm.

"Mission complete," you said softly, handing it to Price.

He didn’t speak. Just grabbed you and pulled you into his arms like he wasn’t going to let you go again.

That night, all four of them hovered. Offering water. Bandages. Blankets. Touches that lingered just a little too long.

"Stay," Soap said, barely more than a whisper.

You nodded once.

Later, curled between all of them in a tangled mess of limbs, you didn’t say a word.

You didn’t need to.

And in the silence, they heard everything.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

409 notes · View notes

pixiexdusts-world · 2 days ago

Text

Underneath the metal

Thunderbolts* Bucky Barnes x teammate!reader

Summary: After you’re injured on a solo mission, Bucky—your enemy-turned-teammate—steps in to take care of you, revealing feelings neither of you can ignore.

Word count: 1,965

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You and Bucky Barnes didn’t get along. From day one, it had been glares, snide remarks, and the kind of tension that made everyone else on the Thunderbolts team either exit the room or place bets.

He was brooding and cold. You were fire and sarcasm. Oil and water—if oil had a metal arm and a hundred-yard death stare.

Which is why it was almost funny—almost—that you got shot on a mission you’d begged to be sent on instead of him.

You’d been tracking a rogue scientist through an old Hydra compound in Slovakia, determined to bring him in without backup. But things went sideways fast. You barely made it out alive, collapsing just inside the hangar of the Thunderbolts’ safehouse, soaked in blood and pride.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You wake to pain.

A bright, aching throb in your side. Something tight around your ribs. The sterile smell of disinfectant.

And Bucky.

He’s sitting next to your cot, face grim, arms crossed. That stupid metal one glinting in the dim light.

You blink slowly. “If this is hell, it’s disappointingly sarcastic.”

His eyes shoot to yours. Blue and burning.

“You almost died,” he says, and it sounds more like an accusation than concern.

“Yeah, well. Almost doesn’t count.”

You try to sit up and immediately regret it. Your ribs scream in protest. Bucky’s hand shoots out to steady you, warm fingers surprisingly gentle as they press to your shoulder.

“Lie back.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You glare. “Didn’t ask for your help.”

“No,” he snaps, “you didn’t. You just snuck off like an idiot and bled all over the compound.”

You open your mouth for a biting retort, but something in his expression stops you cold.

He looks—wrecked.

His jaw tight. Hands clenched. And his voice, when he speaks again, is low and raw.

“Who did this to you?”

The question hits harder than the bullet did.

You glance away, throat tight. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.”

He leans forward now, and there’s no teasing in his face, no smug grin or sarcastic jab. Just worry. Sharp, undiluted worry.

“Tell me.”

You swallow. “It was one of the guards. Saw me before I saw him. Got a lucky shot. I handled it.”

His metal hand curls around the edge of the bed. “You didn’t handle it. You nearly bled out alone.”

“I didn’t want to risk dragging anyone else into it.”

He lets out a sound between a scoff and a growl. “So instead you’d rather die being a goddamn martyr?”

You bristle. “You don’t get to lecture me.”

“I do when I’m the one who carried you back.”

Your heart stutters. “What?”

“I found you in the hangar. Barely breathing. You passed out before you even saw me.”

He stares at you like he’s memorizing your face, as if making sure it’s really you.

“I thought you were gone.”

Something inside you cracks.

You’ve spent months trading barbs and pushing each other’s buttons, but right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the last thing tethering him to this world.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “For going alone.”

He doesn’t reply right away. Just looks at you, searching your face.

Then, softer than you’ve ever heard him, he murmurs, “You scared the hell out of me.”

You blink, stunned.

And then, because the painkillers are still fogging your brain and your heart is wide open and aching, you whisper, “Why do you even care?”

He stands abruptly, pacing once before turning back. Frustration radiates off him.

“Because I do,” he says, exasperated. “Because somewhere between you calling me a fossil and nearly blowing my arm off during sparring, I started giving a damn.”

You stare at him, pulse hammering.

He rubs a hand down his face, eyes tired. “I know we’ve never been exactly… civil. But I’d rather take a thousand of your insults than lose you.”

Your throat tightens.

“I didn’t know you felt—”

“Well, now you do.”

His voice is quiet again. And something about his vulnerability—that bare, open honesty—feels heavier than anything Hydra ever put you through.

You shift in the bed, trying not to wince. “Can you… stay? Just for a bit?”

His gaze softens. “Yeah. Of course.”

He settles back into the chair beside you. For a moment, the room is still. The air between you has changed, no longer charged with animosity but with something tentative, delicate.

You break the silence with a smile. “Still hate you a little.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well. You’re a pain in my ass.”

But his fingers brush yours on the edge of the cot, feather-light. And you don’t pull away.

You let them rest there.

Warm. Steady.

Real.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Two Weeks Later

You’re back on your feet, still sore, still healing—but training again. Bucky watches you from across the gym, arms folded, pretending not to look. Which is a lie, because he hasn’t stopped looking since you stepped onto the mat.

You fake a punch toward the bag and glance at him. “You stalking me now, Barnes?”

He smirks. “Making sure you don’t get yourself killed again.”

You toss your gloves onto the bench and walk toward him, towel slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t move as you stop in front of him.

“You’re a terrible liar, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

You nod, stepping close. “You don’t want me alive just because we’re teammates.”

“No,” he agrees, voice low. “I don’t.”

You’re close enough now to feel the heat radiating off him.

“You gonna do something about it?” you murmur.

He hesitates, eyes flicking to your lips. “Only if you want me to.”

You lean in just a bit. “I do.”

His lips brush yours, tentative and reverent. It’s not a fireworks explosion. It’s something softer—like a wound finally healing.

And when he pulls back, forehead resting against yours, he whispers,

“Next time you run into danger without me, I’m chaining you to the jet.”

You grin. “Kinky.”

He groans. “Regret. Instant regret.”

But he’s smiling, and so are you. Because for the first time since this whole twisted Thunderbolts mission started, you’re not just surviving.

You’re living.

And maybe—just maybe—falling in love with the man you once thought was your greatest enemy.

325 notes · View notes

arixella · 11 hours ago

Note

Imagine the monster trio (or Law) with the reader one day, they went to move their hand or reach for something, and she flinches (of course, she knows they love her and will never hurt her) in the first thing they ask her was "who hurt you?"

When reader flinches and their partner immediately says "who hurt you?" ft. monster trio + Law

wc: 930 a/n: none

Monkey D. Luffy

-You flinch when he throws an arm out to point excitedly at something.

-“Huh?” He tilts his head, confused at first… and then he sees your face.

-Smile fades. Eyes go so serious. Way more serious than you’re used to.

-“...Who hurt you?”

-His voice isn’t loud — not Luffy loud. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

-He grabs your hand so gently it’s almost not Luffy at all. “You’re safe with me, okay?”

-That’s all he says in the moment. But later?

-He brings it up again. “I don’t like that you’re scared. I’m your captain. I’m supposed to protect you.”

-The next time someone so much as raises their voice at you?

-“Don’t talk to her like that. Or I’ll punch you into the ocean.”

-If he ever finds the person who hurt you, they’re gonna learn what Gear Fifth looks like up close.

-Clings to you more after that — lots of cuddles, hand-holding, head-in-your-lap moments.

-Says things like, “I love you. You’re mine. I got you,” with total, unshakable certainty.

Roronoa Zoro

-You flinch. Barely. He was just reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear, but your body moved like it was muscle memory.

-He stops instantly — hand suspended in mid-air, eye narrowing with sharp precision.

-“...Who hurt you?”

-Voice like a blade being unsheathed. Low, deadly calm. Not a demand. A promise.

-Zoro doesn’t do softness well, but the second he sees that flicker of fear, he switches.

-He steps back just enough to give you space — but never takes his eyes off you.

-“You know I’d never lay a hand on you like that... right?”

-Later, when you talk, he listens. Every word. Every silence. And then he gets quiet. Still. Dangerous.

-The kind of quiet that means someone’s going to regret ever putting hands on you.

-He doesn’t say it, but you know he’s going to make sure it never happens again.

-Afterward, he’s more mindful — not coddling, but protective in small ways. Walking between you and others. Always watching.

Sanji Vinsmoke

-It happens so fast — he’s reaching to grab a jar from behind you, and you flinch.

-His hand drops like it burned him. Golden eyes wide, flickering with panic.

-“Mon chéri… who hurt you?”

-Not accusatory — heartbroken. Like the very idea cracks something inside him.

-He’s immediately checking you over — gently, carefully, like you’re made of glass.

-“I would never… I mean—! I’d never lay a finger on you, you know that, don’t you?”

-You nod, and he gives you a shaky smile, but he’s not really smiling.

-If he finds out who it was? They’ll be lucky if he doesn’t go full Germa.

-Sanji may be a gentleman, but when it comes to someone hurting the woman he loves?

-"I’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.”

-Afterwards, he’s extra attentive — constant soft touches, verbal affirmations, cooking your favorites every day.

-You can feel how much it’s eating at him, but he just keeps loving you louder.

Trafalgar Law

-You flinch when he brushes past you to grab something — the reaction so quick, so ingrained, it makes his heart stop.

-He freezes. Doesn’t even breathe for a second.

-Then, in that dead calm voice:

-“Who hurt you?”

It’s not emotionless. It’s too focused. Too sharp. You know that tone — that’s the voice of a man already making plans.

-“I need to know. So I can deal with it.”

-He’s not trying to scare you, but Law is all razor edges when it comes to people he loves.

-“You don’t have to tell me now. Or ever. But I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

-He gives you space, but watches you like a hawk for days. Weeks.

-Anytime someone gets too close, his hand is already on sword.

-If he ever finds out who it was? Oh, they’re not just going to suffer — they’ll vanish. Quietly. Permanently.

-Around you, though? He softens. Always announces his presence. Doesn’t touch without asking.

-He becomes incredibly intentional — the small touches, the eye contact, the way he always checks in with,

-“You okay?” even when you’re just standing beside him.

-You never flinch again — not around him. Not around his crew. Not with your captain.

♡♡♡

291 notes · View notes

noliniodeaes · 3 days ago

Text

Sylus x f reader

🍓: I'm not a writer and english is not my mother tongue. Writing tips are welcome though. Not proofread

Genre: light angst

"I've found my soulmate" He anounces with a gentle smile and you can't help but feel like he is mocking you. Right, he's happy. Why wouldn't he be.

You knew it'll happen sooner or later and yet; you take a shaky breath. You did this to yourself. He isn't the one to blame for your sad predicament

"I know"

His smile falters, his eyebrows raising in surpise.

"You did? How?"

"I just... always knew"

I just hoped...

"And you didn't tell me? Why?" He doesn't look so dazed anymore. He looks confused and almost as if... hurt.

Which makes you feel a little better for ruining his mood. You think you are a bad person. Can't you just be happy for him?

... Can't he just be upset for you?

Show some empathy, damn it.

" I didn't know how. It's not as if... Let's say it was your destiny to find out on your own."

I don't owe you an answer.

Or maybe you do. You're not sure. You weren't prepared. Despite knowing this from the start you still weren't. Maybe if you had a little more time, at least one more day, you would be ready. It's a lie.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. The happy dazed expression is gone from his face. Finally.

"I understand you had your reasons,"

Do you now? Do you really?

You want to get out. This conversation feels like it has been going on for 17 business days. It's awkward. It's sad. It's infuriating. It's... just please let's get this over with.

"It's late. I'm going to bed"

You don't look at his face. You can still his eyes on you though.

You sleep in the guest room that night. The room is chilly and quiet. Weird.

You don't sleep much. Instead you pack your things.

You feel like you risking your life opening the door to the master bedroom, but Sylus isn't there. Still, you don't waste your time. You grab what you deem necessery and slip out of the room. Then out of the mansion. You don't look back. You can't.

He decided to give you time, but his patience ran out pretty quickly. Just one peek. Just to make sure you're okay.

He was pretty sure you went into that guestroom. He checked another one. He checked all of them. He tasked Luke and Kieran with searching every room , every crook and cranny.

He already knew you weren't in the mansion.

What is that? Do you want him to go get you? Do you want to play a game?

No, it's not that. It's just that for some reason you're taking the news not how he expected you to. You need time and space. To process your emotions. He's going to respect that. He's still going to make sure you're safe though.

Mephisto searches for a week. Sylus stays patient. He appreas patient.

Turns out you didn't even bother to hide. He wasted time searching more secluded areas.

He finds you just going about your day. He doesn't expect you to look so drained. You have dark circles under you eyes, your complection changed. He feels lost, among other things.

Why? Do you hate him? Does this... Disgust you? Scare you? If so, why did you stay with him?

Everything was going great between you two.

Wasn't it?

He starts to doubt himself and your relationship. Should he reach out or should he erase himself from your life? Is it really such a burden for you? Is it unbearable?

Even if he's going to leave you alone he needs closure first.

For the last week and a couple days he's been overwhelmed with emotions he though he long forgotten how to feel. Fear, doubt, sadness. Anxiety was gnawing at his ribcage.

So he stood before the door to your appartment. A shabby one, he couldn't not notice.

Five knocks. Two slow and three fast. A code.

"What do you want" Your voice is muffled by the closed door.

"To talk"

"About what? It's over. Leave me alone."

Oh. Now that's interesting.

"Let me come in."

You open the door, looking like a poor stray kitten — messy and tired.

He fights the urge to comfort you, to pull you into a hug and whisper words of reassurance.

"What is this about?"

"What is what about?"

You tilt your head. Cute.

"Your escape. You saying it's over. Why? Tell me a reason. After that I'll leave and you'll never hear of me again."

You doubt that. It's hard not to hear about him. His presence, his whole existance is just way too loud.

"You found your soulmate. You don't need me anymore, so I'm... stepping down."

"Just like that? So you're ending things by... Making an escape at night? I didn't take you for a coward."

"I am a coward.And I just didn't have the strenght to talk to you, to look at you."

"What's so scary about being soulmates?"

"Being abandoned by the person you love is scary"

"Then why did you abandon me?"

You finally look at him. He is disheveled and visibly exhausted, looking like he aged a decade in a week. It's heartwrenching sight, really.

"I... I don't understand."

You finally manage to get the words out.

"Why did you abandon me?"

He repeats the question as if it would make it make sense that way.

"I- I didn't!.. I mean I did, but you- you abandoned me first!"

"How- what?"

"By finding your soulmate! I know you will leave me for them eventually so why waste time, staying with me?!"

There is a pause, silence charged with emotions while the two of you just look at each other. You - with accusation, panting from getting worked up and he - with confusion, holding his breath from shock.

And then - then he has the audacity to break into a laughter.

He holds his stomach, bending over, shaking. He only stops as he sees your hurt expression, your lower lip trembling as you frown.

In a blink of an eye he pulls you into his arms. He cooes soft nothings as he strokes your hair.

"Kitten... Sweetie, I'm not leaving you. You are my soulmate"

#lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus #silly writing #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x reader #sylus fluff

267 notes · View notes

ignisgalaxia · 2 days ago

Text

People really don’t realize just how scared these folks are. They literally live in fear of being attacked just for existing as themselves. Like they’re not bothering anybody, they’re just trying to get to school/work/the gym/lunch/etc. just like you. I myself am not queer, but whenever I see some sort of rainbow merch or flag pins, I know that person is chill. (I’m definitely more comfortable around them than people who have crosses/pictures of Jesus and American flags everywhere)

#pride month #queer #lgbtqia #positivity #wholesome #video

50K notes · View notes

maruflix · 2 days ago

Text

I WOKE UP AS THE VILLAINESS OF A REVERSE HAREM GAME, BUT WHY ARE THE MALE LEADS OBSESSED ?!! #variouscharacters #windbreaker #f!reader

Here’s the bad news: you died, and there’s no good news. You somehow woke up in the universe of a reverse harem game you played before dying... as the villainess. You’ve planned on ignoring the damned romance routes and live an easy life, but...?! / REQ.

feat. sakura, suo, kaji, umemiya, togame, endo, takiishi　　⎯⎯　wc. 3.2k

notes. thank you for this request... honestly i expanded on it on my own lmao this is so self indulgent and so fun to write don’t take this too seriously (& please ignore any grammatical errors i’m sleep deprived and i reread this like 20 times aha)

content: female reader, royalty!au, kingdom!au, transmigration!au, reverse harem, all the wind breaker boys are infatuated with the reader, slight crackfic?, honestly this is more comedy than romance, no beta we die like my eyes after finishing a revenge regression cultivation martial arts manhua in one night

Death does not come to you quietly.

It is loud, fast, and whirls in without warning on top of eight spinning wheels, driven by a middle-aged man who’s too drunk to notice an unfortunate pedestrian trying to get back to her apartment after a long exhausting day of work.

You heard the crash first before registering that it was in fact you who were lying on the street, the frantic screams from the crowd slowly growing fainter.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Your heartbeat is like thunder but you do not know how to calm it.

The last thing you see before your vision goes dark is the faint glow of your phone, still stuck on the game you’ve been playing for a few weeks now. Wind Breaker: All Routes Lead to Doom!

Oh, what a shame— now there’s no way for you to know the ending.

“.... up....”

Huh?

“Wake up...... you? I promise....”

Though heavy, your eyelids flutter open weakly. An unfamiliar ceiling greets you first, then the mop of black hair.

“Uh...” you wanted to ask the person where you are, but your throat feels like sandpaper. Luckily, just one tiny voice from you is enough to catch his attention. His head immediately snaps up, revealing beautiful heterochromatic eyes.

“Y-you’re awake...!”

Why is this person so familiar, you wonder. Still, that thought is the least of your worries when you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck.

“Anyone! She’s awake!”

Wait...

Maids and butlers come flooding in from the double doors, followed closely by a frantic doctor that looks like he came straight out of a period drama, and the realization hits you harder than the truck that just killed you—

You’ve been transmigrated into the world of your reverse harem game.

Two weeks has passed since then.

After shutting yourself in your room, you’ve started to come into terms with the reality of your new life. Not even the relentless coaxing from your fiancé can get you to come out, so everyone resorts to taking turns waiting outside your room.

You place the paper down, satisfied with your notes.

“Are you there? Please...”

Haruka’s muffled voice that comes from behind your bedroom door is getting harder to ignore. You huff in exhaustion. You’re certain that this is the world of your game, so why is his character so different?

The door swings open, revealing Haruka’s shocked face. You feel a bit annoyed since you didn’t really like his character trope in the first place. A cheater who falls in love with the female lead and gets into a relationship with her without breaking his engagement off until the very last second. Un-recyclable trash.

But...

You swear you see traces of tears in his eyes when Haruka’s hands shoot forward, only to stop midway. He looks unsure, scared of offending you.

“H-how are you feeling? You took... quite a fall.”

“I’m fine.” your reply is curt as you study him. Well, he does look a lot more handsome in person. Dressed in his ducal house colors of black, his heterochromatic eyes pop in stark contrast.

“I-I’m sorry I.. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I was busy with the upcoming ball—”

“Let’s break off the engagement.”

He should be happy; after all, he stood you up to go on a date with the female lead and there’s no benefit in involving yourself with one of the male leads of the game.

But when you look up, expecting to see him smile and thank you for allowing him to be with his true love, you see tears streaming down Haruka’s eyes.

“Wha-”

He wipes his tears and storms off.

“Wait-” your remaining sentences dies in your throat as you watch him run away.

For a game, it sure feels real.

The dress you’re wearing is weighing your entire body down, you’re sure of it. Sighing, you readjust your necklace for maybe the tenth time that night, the coldness of the diamonds feeling more like chains that binds you down to this foreign world.

Sure, being transported into a game sounds fun and all, but no one ever talks about how lonely and confusing it is. Still, you keep your back straight.

The crowd that originally flocked you has moved away to another part of the room, save for a certain brown-haired count. Suo Hayato is still standing next to you calmly, as if he hasn’t spend the whole week pestering you after he heard the news of your broken engagement.

“He’s staring at you again.” Hayato muses, twirling his wine glass.

Without him having to point it out, you’re aware of the stare that’s burning holes into you. Haruka plays the part of a heartbroken lover well, his eyes swollen despite his neat hair and clothes. He stands in the far corner of the room, his eyes transfixed on you.

“Well, I can’t control what he chooses to look at.”

Hayato laughs elegantly, then snakes an arm around your waist. “That’s true. How about we give him something to look at?”

Hayato smells amazing; you have to resist the blush that’s slowly creeping across your face. Feeling no resistance from you, he pulls you closer.

“Oh? Aren’t you going to resist me?” His voice is low, teasing. His face is getting closer and closer. He’s handsome and his charm is out of this world... as expected of one of the male leads.

Suddenly, the doors open with the butler announcing the arrival of tonight’s star. You jump in surprise, escaping Hayato’s grasp as you watch the white-haired crown prince makes his entrance.

Umemiya Hajime looks dazzling under the gleaming chandeliers.

White and gold suits him, you think to yourself in a daze as he spots you in the crowd and starts to make his way to you.

Wait, he starts to what?

He gets in front of you before your feet can carry you to the garden. “My lady, you look radiant tonight.” Hajime breathes out, a smile adorning his features.

His kind eyes calms your nerves.

“Your highness.” You curtsy, not knowing what else to say.

An outstretched hand comes into view. You look up to see Hajime smiling. “Will you do me the honor of having your first dance tonight?”

‘I just wanna go home...!!’

But how can you turn down the crown prince of the country? You let him guide you to the dance floor, followed by the envying eyes of the crowd. Crown Prince Hajime has his fans, but you have yours. The game makes sure that you’re the most eligible bachelorette in the kingdom, a goal that the player has to surpass.

“You dance very well.” Hajime’s face is calm but you can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“I’m flattered, your highness, but why did you suddenly...”

Hajime’s eyes twinkle and he spins you, catching you perfectly by the waist, “My reasons are quite shallow, I must admit. I thought you and Lord Haruka made a good match... or was I mistaken?”

You sigh. Having to recite your reason to everyone in high society is getting tiring. “As they say, you never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

The music rises in a crescendo and Hajime pulls you closer, his head tilted in amusement. “Is that so? Then the young duke must not know how to treat a lady.”

“Oh, and do you?” wanting nothing more than going home, you snap at him, — but he merely smiles and tilts his head — glaring at him in annoyance, “... know how to treat a lady?”

Hajime laughs, not taken aback in the slightest. “My lady, if you give me the permission to, I will not only treat you better than the young duke ever can..”

You shiver. Wait.. the game isn’t supposed to be like this—

His grayish blue eyes is mischievous when he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I can also make you the most noble lady in the kingdom.”

Since the dissolvement of your engagement and your dance with the crown prince at the founding day ball, more and more letters have been piling up on your desk. Invitations to tea parties, date invitations, even engagement requests from all the young aristocrats in the kingdom— you want to live an easy life, but your life is more eventful than it’s ever been!

To make matters worse, you’ve gotten yourself acquainted with the archmage and the commander of the knights during one of your outings to the royal library. Sneaking around to avoid the crown prince was hard enough, but you encountered two male characters instead!

“Hey, don’t you ever get tired of reading those books?” For the commander of the royal knights, Togame Jo sure has a lot of free time that he spends by irritating you.

Ren’s wind magic playfully flaps the pages of your book, gentle enough not to disturb you. “Stop bothering her and go away, knight.”

“Won’t it be better to go on a date with me instead?” Jo ignores your frown and starts to play with your hair.

These characters are not romanceable, but they won’t leave you alone!

“No, thanks. This book does the job of keeping me company very well.”

Ren has started creating small fireballs that flicker from the tips of his finger. “How do you feel about going to the empire? I heard there’s a magic tool being sold in the underground markets.”

“Are you serious?” You feel your face settling into an eternal deadpan.

Ren looks serious and mature on the outside but he says the most unreasonable nonsense. You suppose it’s the perk that comes with being the archmage, one of the strongest people in the continent.

Unluckily for you, although from a powerful ducal family, you’re still a lady of the high society— and a very popular one, at that. If you want to live a lavish life, you can’t shirk your duties.

“Sounds fun. Let’s go.”

“YOU’RE THE COMMANDER OF THE ROYAL KNIGHTS, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

Jo blinks, then shrugs. “I can always take some time off and delegate my duties to Choji and Kota. I’m still a nobleman who deserves a holiday.”

“Oh, it’s so you to bring titles into this.”

“Wait, we’re seriously doing this?”

Jo sighs. “I don’t want to resort to this, but...” he gestures for you to come closer. You and Ren immediately lean in.

“I heard the crown prince is planning to officially ask for your hand in marriage.”

You slam your book shut, making the two men jump slightly in their seats.

“We’re going.”

For a game world, the scenery sure is breathtaking.

After traveling almost three days on a lavish carriage and seeing the gorgeous sights of the countryside, your small team has finally reached the neighboring empire.

Unlike the small scenic kingdom where you started playing, the empire is big and powerful. The empire has its clutches all the way to the northern and eastern continents, it’s a miracle it hasn’t tried to invade the tiny kingdom you call home.

This huge superpower empire is governed by none other than Takiishi Chika, the yandere type hidden character of the game. He’s the last character you’d want to cross paths with, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You have better luck laying low in this humongous empire than back home with the ticking bomb that is Umemiya Hajime.

“You feeling okay?” Ren questions, brushing his hand against yours. His magic sizzles in the air and you immediately feel less dizzy.

“Thank you, I feel a lot better.” Your grateful smile makes him beam. Turning your head to locate Jo, you stumble slightly, only to hit your back on his broad chest. “Oh! There you are.”

Jo wraps an arm to steady you, then moves to grab your hand, pulling you with him. “You must be dizzy from hunger. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Ren is quick to follow, grumbling.

The three of you has gotten closer during the span of your journey. To your surprise, they are delightful to be around.

The weird thing is this: the closer you get, the more they seem to hate each other.

“Oh.. this is the worst idea... I’m really not supposed to be here...” Hastily pulling down your cloak to cover more of your face, you lean forward until your forehead makes contact with Ren’s back.

“It’s okay, we’re here to protect you. The underground markets are a sight to be seen.” Jo chuckles. It’s rare to see him without his uniform, but he looks handsome in his disguise.

“But..” you bite your lip, your mind racing. Now that you think about it, Endo Yamato’s character is not just an assassin, but also the king of the underworld. What if you accidentally meet him here? With your luck, you feel like it’s going to happen.

“Look! The auction is starting!” Very few things can get Ren excited— this rare magic tool is one of them. His hood almost fell down, revealing his stylish blond hair.

You quickly pull it down.

The auctioneer’s words are a blur in your ears; you‘re too busy observing your surroundings. You haven’t progressed this far in the game, so anything can happen at this point.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stands up. The only thing you can think about is: someone is staring at you.

Whipping your head to the direction where you feel the sudden chill, you feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. In the corner of the room, a black-haired man stands with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes studying you intently. He smirks when you finally return his gaze.

Endo Yamato!

“We should go,” you tug at Jo’s sleeves.

“Huh? But the magic tool hasn’t even been brought out yet!” Ren protests.

“Is everything okay?”

Your head spins. “I- I have to go. Meet me outside later.”

Ren and Jo watches as you run out the room in confusion.

“She’s probably disturbed by the humid air here.” Ren is already focusing his attention back to the auction.

Jo is uncertain, his gaze still lingering at the door.

“Right... that should be it...”

The exit is getting closer and the corridors are getting emptier, most of the visitors already flocking at the auction downstairs.

You round the corner, feeling relief flood you... only to crash into the person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time.

“Oops! Why are you in such a hurry, miss?”

No, no-

“The auction’s just started. It’ll be a waste to leave now.”

No, not this guy-

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Endo Yamato. What’s your name?”

Your breaths are getting shorter. This guy is bad news. He’s the character who kills the villainess in more than ten endings. Even in the crown prince’s route, he’s the one who kills the villainess—!

“Miss?” a finger tilts your chin upwards and your breath halts. Yamato is staring at you, his bangs falling down in front of his eyes. He’s gorgeous, but all you can think about is where he hides his dagger.

“I-I have to go.”

Yamato blinks. Before he can say anything, a guard appears from behind him and immediately registers your face.

“Hey! You’re the girl that came with the mage! You don’t have an invitation, you intruder!”

Stomach squeezing in panic, your eyes searches for an exit. But there are none: you can either try to outrun Yamato and the guard, or escape Yamato’s clutches and run back to the auction and hopefully exit this place in one piece with your two companions.

To your surprise, Yamato clicks his tongue. He spins around in his heel, surprising the guard with his identity.

“M-my lord!”

“Leave. Do you have a death wish?”

The guard’s eyes flits between you and Yamato, but he bows and does as he’s told without question.

That’s one thing taken care of. You feel slight relief.

“This is the first time I have such a pretty intruder.” Yamato laughs, shamelessly caressing the side of your face before twirling a strand of your hair, bringing it to his lips to plant a kiss on it, “You can intrude anytime.”

The butterflies you feel on your stomach— you don’t know if they’re from bashfulness or fear.

“However, as much as I’d love to have you all for myself..” he sighs, “I have a mission to do. Please forgive me.”

You’re about to ask him why he’s apologizing to you, but you feel a force coming into contact with the side of your neck and your world suddenly goes dark.

It smells foreign, unlike the fresh flowers that the maids usually puts in the vase by your bed.

Your eyes snap open, the memories of recent events flooding in. The empire. The auction. Yamato.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Your captor has golden eyes and flaming red hair. Your kidnapper stands in the far back, smiling at you pleasantly.

No, no, no, no-

“Good. I can start the marriage preparations.”

Wait, the what?

“Who- where-”

“Don’t you remember me? Well, it’s okay even if you don’t. I’m not letting you go anytime soon.” Chika says as a matter of factly, gently scooping up your hand and kissing it softly.

YOU HAVEN’T PROGRESSED THIS FAR IN THE GAME. But it must be the childhood friend trope. Aren’t you the villainess...? Why would the villainess be childhood friends with the hidden character?

“You promised to share.” Yamato’s voice holds a tone of annoyance.

Chika ignores him.

“Wait! I-I’m the fiancé of the crown prince! I’m not even a citizen of this empire!” Lying through your teeth, you suppose it should be okay— Umemiya was planning on making you crown princess anyway, with the way he was speaking.

Chika raises an eyebrow, as if you just said something silly.

“Yes, I heard all about that.” Yamato groans, pushing himself off the wall to approach your bedside, “All that talk about ‘I’m going to make you the most noble lady in the kingdom’, right? Blech.”

Good, they can’t mess with you now. It became a matter between two countries, right? “T-That’s right! I’m just here on vacation before we hold our engagement ceremony!” More lies. You wince. You don’t even believe your own lie.

“So?”

The indifference in Chika’s tone sends chills down your spine.

“I will burn his puny kingdom to the ground and give the territory for you as a wedding present. Why would you want to be with him when I can make you the most noble lady in the whole continent?”

‘Oh, Gods— someone pull me away from this universe! The things they say are getting more and more nonsensical!’

“Before you do that, we need to deal with her companions.” Yamato places a hand on your pillow, smirking, “traveling before your engagement ceremony, huh? With two men who’s head over heels for you?”

“The archmage and the knight?” Chika starts, but you are having none of it.

“No bloodshed, please!”

Chika looks genuinely surprised at your outburst. He kisses your hand again, “Alright, I will do as you say. Please quell your anger, my empress.”

You look at Chika, who has an innocent expression on. Then to Yamato, still smiling pleasantly at you. If you go back to your kingdom, you risk being entangled with Hajime. There’s also your ex-fiancé Haruka who acts like a kicked puppy, and Hayato who won’t leave you alone. If you manage to escape the castle, Ren and Jo will no doubt come looking for you. For non-romanceable NPCs, they sure act like rivals in love.

You feel a headache incoming.

Time to draft new survival notes.

#maru writes...#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x you #wind breaker fluff #sakura haruka #sakura haruka x reader #suo hayato #suo hayato x reader #kaji ren #kaji ren x reader #umemiya hajime #umemiya hajime x reader #togame jo #togame jo x reader #endo yamato #endo yamato x reader #chika takiishi #chika takiishi x reader

283 notes · View notes

sweetstrawberryys · 2 days ago

Text

"In the Mirror”

Summary: You're just chilling when Ghost sends you a cryptic message. But no worries, your house is only haunted by one Ghost.

Rating: light teasing, domestic vibes, mild language, Ghost being a menace, a lot of warmth

Masterlist

---

You: I just saw your husband.

Ghost: What?

You: I'm not married, where did you see him?

Ghost: In the mirror.

You stared at your phone, blinking once. Twice.

A beat of silence passed. Then—

“Oh, you cheeky little—”

The door creaked open and there he was, all six-foot-something of smug British man wrapped in black joggers and one of your pink sweaters.

Yes. Your pink sweater.

“I stand by my statement,” he said, unrepentant. “Saw your husband just now. Dashing bloke. Strong jaw. Really into this new pink look, too.”

“You’re awful.” You couldn’t help the grin, though, as you tossed a throw pillow at him. “You can’t just text cryptic shit and make me think there’s a ghost in the house.”

“I am the ghost in the house.”

He caught the pillow mid-air, tossing it back with lazy aim. It thudded harmlessly to the side as you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes.

“You scared me for a second, you know?” you said, voice dipping into a soft whine.

Simon’s smirk faltered. Just slightly. Enough for the tender to peek through.

“Didn’t mean to.” He stepped forward, crowding into your space like the possessive bastard he was. “Was just messin’.”

You looked up at him, trying not to melt at how domestic he looked—stubble unshaved, hair mussed from a lazy afternoon nap, your softest sweater stretching across his broad shoulders. It was a rainy Sunday kind of look. A “we’ve been together for years and this is the man I wake up to” kind of look.

And God, he wore it well.

“Well…” you murmured, poking his chest, “next time you want to be weirdly poetic and mysterious, just say you missed me.”

He leaned down, resting his forehead to yours. The grin that ghosted over his lips was softer now, less cocky. The kind he saved for you and you alone.

“I did miss you,” he murmured. “You left me alone with a mirror and too many feelings.”

“Oh no,” you said dramatically. “The horror. Self-reflection.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “I looked in the mirror, and there I was. Standing there. In your jumper. In our flat. And I just thought… shit.”

“Shit what?”

“That’s her husband.” His voice dropped lower. “Me. I'm her husband.”

You stared at him, heart going off like fireworks in your chest.

You weren’t married. Not yet.

But sometimes he’d drop little things like that. Like he’d already made up his mind. Like the choice was made the moment you met. You’d learned by now not to tease him for it. Every time you did, he’d retreat into that skull of his. Lock the doors and throw away the key.

So instead, you smiled.

“That mirror’s a smart one,” you whispered.

He kissed you then. Softly. Slowly. Like it was the first kiss all over again. One hand on your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist, warm and anchoring.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” you murmured against his lips.

“You left it out,” he whispered back. “Which means you wanted me to wear it.”

You chuckled. “Or I just didn’t fold the laundry.”

“Potato, potato.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. Slid his tongue between your lips like he was trying to memorize the taste of home. And maybe he was. Maybe that’s what this all was to him.

Because to Ghost home had never really been a place. It was something he built from the pieces he was given. A couch with a sunken cushion. A kettle always warm. Your laugh from the other room. Your toothbrush next to his.

A mirror that, for the first time, reflected back a man who had something to lose. Someone to love. Someone who looked at him and saw husband instead of monster.

“You’re thinking again,” you whispered when you finally broke apart. “I can feel the dramatic brooding radiating off of you.”

He groaned. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Nope.” you reached up to brush a lock of hair behind his ear. “Tell me what’s going on in that haunted head of yours.”

He sighed. Rested his chin atop your head like it was his favorite spot on Earth.

“I was brushing my teeth,” he said slowly. “Saw my reflection. And for the first time, I didn’t flinch.”

You froze, barely breathing.

“I saw a man,” he continued. “Not a mask. Not a monster. Just… a man. In love.”

Your eyes welled instantly. “Simon…”

He pulled back slightly to cup your face in both hands, thumbs brushing under your eyes.

“I’m not good with words. You know that.”

“You’re better than you think,” you whispered.

He huffed a smile. “But what I saw in that mirror—it was the man you see. The one who laughs with you. Holds you at night. The one who tries to remember to put the seat down.”

You laughed wetly.

“So yeah,” he said. “I saw your husband. And it made me want to keep being him.”

“You always were him,” you whispered. “Even before the mirror said so.”

You stood there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other like an old love song. The kind that plays softly in the background while life goes on.

Then, in true Simon Riley fashion—

“You’re still doing the dishes though.”

“Oh my God—”

“You think just because I got sentimental I’m doing the plates? Nah, sweetheart.”

“You said my jumper. This is a pink tax. You owe me.”

“I am your pink tax.”

You threw another pillow at him. He caught it again.

And just like that, the moment shifted—from soft to silly, from heart-clutching to heartwarming. Because love wasn’t always declarations or mirror metaphors.

Sometimes, love was pink jumpers and teasing texts.

Sometimes, love was looking in the mirror and liking what you saw.

Especially when it reminded you of your other half.

---

This was inspired by this post . Thanks for giving permission to use the prompt. Hope you enjoy!

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #cod x you #cod fanfic #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod x reader #ghost #ghost x you #simon ghost x you

304 notes · View notes