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florencemtrash · 8 days

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He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now.

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor.

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep.

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it.

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object.

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke.

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence.

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down.

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes.

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful.

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home.

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you.

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter.

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out.

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.”

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—”

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant.

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow.

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.”

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud.

“Long day?”

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.”

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.”

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop.

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?”

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers.

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.”

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.”

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands.

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.”

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.”

You blinked once. Twice.

“Pardon?”

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.”

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.”

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon.

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked.

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.”

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey.

“What?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.”

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him.

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses.

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early.

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs.

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart.

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz.

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you feel safe with me?”

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside.

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.”

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #fluff #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #sleepy azriel is the best azriel #i swear i just need a man who wants to sleep with me all hours of the day and is a living furnace #is that too much to ask?

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spacebubblehomebase · 3 days

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"Say My Name."

Tumblr "Poll Results" for my #HHStargazersAU are out and so I'm releasing ALL the currently available titles of my future posts for this story!!! Though to not completely spoil the plot for everyone, I redacted some parts on the list. Just know that, while I DO have plans, they could always change and not everything is complete. But if you're still willing to be patient with me, here's a taste of my writing and art! Nothing serious. Just to see if it's to your liking. I won't always stick to such style, but there WILL be consistent world building as it's my favorite part of starting any AU! And if you like Chaggie or queerplatonic Radioapple centric stories then you're in luck because that's EVERYTHING I'm here for! It'll take a lot of effort, but GOD will it also be a LOT of fun! XD Still a show is nothing without an audience and according to my list, it's time for an INTEREST CHECK, so what say you? 👀✨️ -Bubbly💙

(For more context, check out "Part One" of my story! "A New Day Will Dawn...")

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popponn · 3 months

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xavier rarely wakes up before you. most of the time, you will find his eyes still closed with his arms clinging to you or around you one way or another. but, on the days when his blue eyes are the ones that greet you first thing in the morning, you will be greeted with a soft whispered ‘good morning’ spoken in his morning voice. these kinds of mornings will start slowly with a shared smile and quiet conversation about mundane, small things. it could be the cat he saw yesterday or that particularly funny part from his dream. then, it will end with his nose brushing against yours gently. sometimes it will lead to a kiss, sometimes he will simply stay there with your forehead against each other’s. sometimes, it will lead to long hours of cuddling and going back to sleep. it is after all that, he will finally start his day along with yours. though, of course, as an end note, even if he doesn’t wake up first, please do always let him begin his days with you. he will still be drowsy—like always—but in a very embarrassingly obvious manner that his expression can’t hide, he will be happy.

zayne seems to develop a habit of taking care of your clothing at some point. it is subtle enough, but it is undeniably there. he often crouches down to tie your shoes for you—without you asking, despite your protests. if you say he doesn’t have to, he will simply say that it is more effective or faster that way, or that he simply doesn’t see a reason not to. if you feel bad, you could return him by doing a favor anyway, he reasons. afterward, it will continue into him adjusting the scarf around your neck, tidying a crease on your collar, or zipping up your jacket right before the two of you go out. he too doesn’t shy from putting your lipstick or lip balm on for you. at some point, during a break day, you might find him sitting on the sofa, reading and watching tutorials about skincare or makeup. if you approach him, expect him to ask you to watch it along with him, though in through mister doctor fashion it might lead to journal and research about cosmetics that he will read to you.

rafayel loves your attention. and it shows—in a very annoying way that unfortunately has found its way to be adorable to your heart. he unabashedly wears a smug smile and keeps on mentioning how you couldn’t stay away from him whenever he spoons you. if you are the one spooning him, turns out he is not above acting like a spoiled brat who demands affection until he is sated. in a way, it is similar to having a puppy that is a fish and a lover at the same time. but beyond all his louder actions, there will always be a part of him that is softer in the way of a cozy rain and a warm blanket. it’s the part of him who will always listen to whatever you say and the part of him that will, will always have you as his ‘happy ending’ no matter what. the part of him that shows itself in the form of a smile full of yearning even when he cups your face with both of his hands. he has his secrets and his affection for you is not one of them. yet, despite everything, it still feels like he couldn’t quite manage to get all of it out for you. so, at least, when it is time for him to give you a glimpse into how much he holds you dear, do give him your undivided attention.

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pollyna · 1 year

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Husband reveals but in the most normal way ever: Mav forgets his lunch home twice, and Tom drops by because he can't have a starving husband, even less for such an important mission. The first time he's wearing civvies and the daggers are far away to not notice him at all, the second one Ice is still in full uniform when he strolls in the cafeteria, drops Mav's lunch on the table, kisses his lips and "I'm not your errand boy, next time you forgot your lunch it's on you" to which Mav smiles dopey "whatever you say, Iceman. Eat with me?". How could Tom say no?

All around them, nobody moves because the Commander of the fucking Pacific Fleet is sharing a sandwich with their captain. And they kissed.

#another husband reveals prompt? yep. love them need them bc i had a very not good afternoon and i have a headache that's getting worst #lemme live with all the fluff possible #one day i'm going to learn the abbreviation of ice's title #for now i just want him alive #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #the dagger squad goes: 😳😶🧐🫨🫣😲🤯#and cyclone goes: 🫠😔😒🤢 why not me #bradley is like eating is lunch and trying v hard to not succumb to second hand embarrassment #until he doesn't say 'hi dad' out loud #in the meanwhile ice and mav are: 🥰☺️😚🥵🙈❤️‍🔥👬👨‍❤️‍👨🫶#otp: things get old our love is gold

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chiptrillino · 2 years

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"it was a weak day for me…" for the WIP game! Bonus points for #tired&done mood.

[ID: two digital sketches waist up from Sokka and Zuko from avatar the last Airbender. the first one shows Sokka left holding Zuko's face with both hands, kissing him. Zuko is on the right of the image. has his hands placed on Sokka's shoulder. the second one shows Sokka on the left smiling leaning forward in order to forehead touch Zuko. his hand are placed on Zuko's face and shoulder. Zuko is smiling one hand placed on Sokka's arm and the other on the back of Sokka's head. End ID.]

this is one of the rare ones where there is no nose squish…. maybe that's why I didn't continue them…

I am not sure what #tired&done mood means haha

WIP ask game only thre left :D

#chip!ask #atla #zukka #sokka #zuko #ahhh i hate drawing zukos hair... where is his season one ponytail???#wait....#-clicks layer on and off-#BLESS PAST ME FOR TINY PONITAIL VERSION!!!!#i think this was a day where i just needed fluff for these two...#it happens!#and right after drawing these i imediately drew suki threatening jet with her fan hahahah

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0kayblue · 1 year

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Domestic Cravings

Leon comes home early from a mission and stays determined not to wake you by going to his apartment instead of yours. When greeted with a more than pleasant surprise he’s unable to stop himself from asking the big question.

Main Character Relations: Leon Kennedy x reader (romantic)

Word Count: 2k (a little over)

Fluff, fluff, fluff !!!

A/N: Sometimes I don’t write angst. Sometimes. Anyway, I guess you could consider this a Valentine's Day present. Personally, I hate the holiday, but I do love to treat others. Enjoy!

Leon sighed, the weight of his most recent mission weighing heavily on his shoulders. All things considered things went smoothly and everything wrapped up into a nice little bow earlier than expected. He was scheduled to be there for the next two days, but he ran into one of those rare circumstances where he made it back early.

As he looked at the door handle to his front door he seriously debated his most recent plan to retreat to the solitude of his own apartment. This isn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted to experience the warmth of your doorway. He wanted to crawl into your bed and find comfort in your embrace. But it was so late and the sun basically just set and you had to have been asleep. Not to mention he’d probably be throwing a wrench in your plans for the next day and the last thing he wanted was to be seen as a burden.

So, selflessly Leon opened the front door. The apartment was cold as he disregarded his heavy duffel bag to the side. He shut and locked the door behind him as he kicked off his boots, too tired to be bothered to put them away just then. He ran his hand down his face as he sauntered into the kitchen. Exhaustion felt like an understatement, as his limbs felt heavy as he headed towards the fridge. The bright light caused him to squint as he was greeted to the sight of a fully stocked fridge. He smiled knowing that you had already started taking care of the little things for him. He grabbed the carton of orange juice before shutting the door.

It really only made things harder as he set the carton on the kitchen island as he grabbed a glass. He had a key and he was always more than welcome, he lived there just as much as he lived here, if not more so. You have been dating for a year and had gotten the big three words out and expressed your love whenever and wherever it came about. Rather it be just an exchange of the sentiment via words or actions, he knew you loved him. He knew that you truly, deeply, genuinely loved him. You saw the good and the bad and still adored him. He couldn’t make any sense of it, but humans are creatures who are always harsher on themselves than on others.

Your apartment always felt so homey and inviting, granted that could have just been because it was considerably smaller, but he digresses. He spent more time there than he did in the luxury suite that was located on the finer side of town. Big tall windows that allowed natural light in easily, a view of the city that ‘justified’ the rent prices. In all honesty he only chose to live here due to the fact that it was so close to the office. Even though he wondered why he even bothered being close to the office when he woke up in your bed most days anyway.

Pouring his drink he started to really consider why you still remained in two separate housing units. Truth be told he never asked you to move in. He supposed you could’ve asked, but it wasn’t in your nature. You weren’t one to ask someone to pack up their life and throw everything away to be with you. He would in a heartbeat, there wouldn’t be a second thought about it; but it all goes back to people being harsher on themselves than other people. That and the fact that his work played a big factor in everything that Leon does. He was constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Finishing his drink with huge gulps he was unsure if you were even willing to give your place up. It was your first apartment and the rent wasn’t too bad- all things considered- your landlord was tolerable and neighbors were friendly enough. The walls were paper thin and the unit needed a multitude of repairs. Long story short, the place was old, Leon has had a number of things redone there; in fact the first thing he did was replace the locks. He was trying to talk you into a whole security system, but you shut him down. Having to deal with your landlord over the locks was a hassle on its own, you didn’t want to bother trying to reason with him over a high tech military grade security system.

Your safety and wellbeing was on the top of Leon’s list and he used it in his arguments. But you just rolled your eyes and pointed out that he doesn’t even use his own security system. The thing did nothing but collect dust by the front door. It was your main argument and it stood firm, you told him that once he started using his own you would think about going toe to toe with your landlord over it, but until then his argument was null and void.

He countered though with the fact that his apartment didn’t hold anything valuable. Sure, it had monetary value out the ass; but anything he had that was worth anything could be perceived as trash to the naked eye. A box full of movie tickets, cards, postcards, and blurry photos was not worth a dime. The memories that the items held were priceless, but they wouldn’t do a thing for anyone else.

As he went to turn on the sink he noticed the dishwasher light was on, signaling that the dishwasher had finished its job. A crooked little smirk pulled on his face, not only did you go grocery shopping but you took care of the dishes. How lucky could he possibly be? A sense of a domestic life that he craved washing over him. It was time, he wanted you here, or he could stay there, it really didn’t matter. Either place would be home as long you were there.

Turning off the sink he heard the floor creek. He set the glass in the sink slowly as he reached for Matilda that rested in his waistband. He was careful, he was sure he wasn’t followed, whoever was here had been here. His brain immediately went to you; second guessing having you move in. He moved quickly facing the hall, his arms outstretched and his finger on the trigger, “You’ve got three seconds.” He threatened and as he heard your deep sigh of relief he softened, setting the gun on the counter. You stepped into his line of vision as he flicked on the kitchen light, “(Y/N)?” He called out your name as he watched you shake slightly. The gap between the two of you was closed quickly as he pulled you to his chest with relief.

“You scared the shit out of me.” You said setting the gun you had down on the nearby couch end table. Wrapping your arms around him you scolded him, “You got off early and you didn’t call me?”

“I scared you? You scared me.” He defended light heartly, “I didn’t want to wake you. It’s nearly three in the morning, baby.” He pulled away from you as he tucked your hair behind your ear. His lips found yours in a gentle kiss that he deepened as you hummed against him.

“Did a great job at letting me sleep then, dear.” You teased him as you pulled away from him. You brushed his hair out of his eyes, examining the bags and purple hue underneath them.

“How was I supposed to know you were here?” He defended as your thumb ghosted over his cheekbone and you turned bright red. A sense of victory on his face as a wide smile found his features.

“I just started the dishes and I didn’t want to fight traffic home-…” you peered into an ocean of blue before sighing, “I missed you. I sleep here when I miss you. I sleep here a lot.” You confessed before looking away from him, it was slightly embarrassing for you to admit. You had difficulty expressing that you craved a person. It didn’t make any sense with how open you were about him, but you just chalked it up to your miss independent complex. He just hummed in satisfaction as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His body relaxed as he kissed your neck with a sense of glee. He went from missing you, to worrying about you, to the joy of knowing that you were within arms reach in a matter of seconds.

“I missed you more.” He cooed as he kissed your neck, “Glad you’re here.”

“I love you.” The words fell from your lips so gently and lovingly that his grip on you tightened and you giggled slightly. He made you feel like a teenage girl that was too head over heels for her own good. “Let’s get you to bed. Shower?”

“Please.” Your hands found his hands and gently pulled him down the hall and into his room. He noted his side of the bed was the one that you were just resting on; a sense of warmth washing over him. He squeezed your hand gently as you led him into the bathroom. As you let go of him you turned on the shower. He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he looked around and noticed your shampoo and conditioner, toothbrush, lotions, and other toiletries littered in his bathroom.

You approached him and helped him pull off his shirt, you looked him over. A deep sigh falling from your lips as your heart ached at the sight of bruises and cuts. It hurt to see and you could only imagine the pain he felt.

“It’s okay, I’m fine. Promise.”

“This the best they could do to patch you up?”

“Down, tiger.” He teased as he soaked up your possessive tone.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shower, pulling off your shirt before putting your palm under the running water. You pulled your pajama shorts off and as you turned to face him a sense of nervousness shot up your spine. You usually would tease him about a staring problem, but you were unsure of where his emotions were. Physically he looked exhausted- his movements told you he was exhausted- but mentally you had no idea where he stood.

Not to mention that you had no clue how he felt about you staying here when he wasn’t here. Sure, he said he was glad you were here, but he never asked you to be here.

“The water is going to get cold if you just keep staring. C’mon.” You nodded to the shower as you undid his pants. His hands found yours, stopping you, as he took care of the rest and disregarded them in the hamper. You tried to place what he was thinking as you climbed into the shower, him not far behind you.

As the warm water hit his back he let out a sigh of relief. The sound music to your ears as you started messing with his shampoo. You went to work the shampoo in his hair and through half lidded eyes he watched you. A little smile on your face while your tired eyes focused on what you were doing.

He could get used to this, he was getting used to it.

He loved you. He loved seeing your things in his space, he loved that you were taking care of him, he loved that you were here.

You tilted his head gently and started rinsing the shampoo out. A protest never fell from his lips as you scratched his scalp and he moaned softly. You reached for his conditioner and did the same thing, just letting the conditioner sit while scrubbing him down with his signature fresh pine scented shower gel.

You worshiped him as you bathed him, kissing the cuts and bruises softly as you rinsed him off. He deserved to be taken care of like this and you didn’t mind being the one to do it. It was slightly embarrassing, but he trusted you with his life and you knew his body just as he knew yours. “Relax.” You cooed as you went to get out of the shower, “Stay in here as long as you’d like. I’m going to get you-.” You stopped as he grabbed your wrist and his other hand found your hip. You gave him a concerned look as you scanned his face, you stepped closer to him as he pulled you to his chest. Your fingers tangled themselves into his hair as you tried to soothe him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.” He rested his head against your shoulder, “Just want you.” He’s wanted you since he got back, he’s wanted you since he left. You nodded as you held him against you.

You both stood there until the water started to run cold. It took some convincing but eventually you got him out and in pajamas. You were in bed wearing one of his t-shirts that he practically had to fight you over wearing. Your eyes shut as you listened to his movements in the bathroom, refusing sleep. Waiting for him.

As Leon turned off the faucet he took a good look in the mirror. A face that had a smile plastered on it as he thought about the woman in his bed. The woman who just doted on him like he was made of glass. The woman who held him so close and made him feel so loved that it all felt worth it. The woman that he wanted to take his last name.

He left the bathroom and stood in the doorway as the bathroom light illuminated you just enough to where he could watch your chest rise and fall. As your eyes opened he was held captive as you smiled.

“What?” You asked through a yawn as you pulled the covers up to your shoulders while you stretched.

“I love you.” He beamed as he turned off the bathroom light and climbed into his side of the bed. Your scent flying off of the fabric of his sheets as the radiant warmth of your presence drew him in. Wrapping his arm around your torso he pulled you to him.

“I love you more.” Your voice heavy with sleep as you cuddled against his chest. He adored these moments where you didn’t fight with your words and just said what you were feeling.

He chuckled, “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead as you yawned. “Go to sleep.” He cooed as he rubbed a hand firmly up and down your back.

“Leon…?” You muttered against his chest.

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want me here while you’re not here. I won’t do it again.” He raised an eyebrow at the apologetic sorrow in your tone. He knew your past, he knew your uncertainty, but he could’ve sworn that he told you he was glad you were here. “I just missed you and if I crossed a line-.”

“Hey, hey.” He shushed you, “I’m glad you're here, remember? I want you here. Forever and always. Okay?” You nodded and tried not to sniffle.

“Okay.” You fisted the hem of his shirt as you tried to keep yourself calm against him. He kissed your forehead before petting your hair. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was starting to slow to the pace that it does when you sleep.

He knew he should wait, but he was too excited.

“Baby?” He looked down at you as you hummed in response telling him to go ahead with his question. That you were still listening and ready to talk about whatever he needed. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he admired you, “Will you marry me?”

Your tired eyes opened, “What?” You were in a state of disbelief.

He asked again, “Marry me?” Silence fell over the room as the cold chill of uncertainty worked its way through his blood stream. What was he thinking? Was he thinking? You didn’t even live with him and you’d been together for only a year. Wasn’t the next step just to ask you to move in? That was the logical question. Was it too late to rephrase the question? Could he save this somehow?

“Yes.” You answered honestly, “Yes, I’ll marry you.” He let out a deep breath of relief before his lips found yours. His kiss was deep and passionate as he adjusted himself to be level with you. You welcomed him as you melted against him. Exchanging passion and overwhelming love within each kiss. Each parting one leaves a lasting imprint against your souls.

He regretfully parted from you to get a good look at you. To judge based on what he knew if this was truly something you wanted. Your bright smile causes him to let out a chuckle of relief before leaning his forehead against yours. You laughed alongside him as your hand intertwined with his, “I love you, Mrs. Kennedy.” He said he ran his hand through your hair. It fell so naturally from his lips that you could’ve sworn that it had always been your last name.

“I haven’t signed any papers yet.” You joked before peppering a couple kisses on his cheek, “Don’t even have a ring yet.”

He rolled his eyes before his lips captured yours, “It’s in the closet.” He mumbled as he held your face against his.

“Mhm.” You moaned against his lips, even though you didn’t believe him. He was telling you the truth, hidden in his safe was a little black velvet box that held the engagement ring he picked out six months ago.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #Resident evil fan fiction #Romance #writing romance #fluff #No real reason #No real plot #Leon just loves you a lot #hayley writes a bit #I am still considering the what if thing #I guess I really need to make a master list #Maybe later #happy Valentine’s Day #enjoy!

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nonranghaes · 10 months

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"hey... you alright?"

jisung steps out onto the balcony where you've escaped to, and immediately sees the tears that streak your cheeks. it's stupid, and maybe you shouldn't have come to this stupid little get-together in the first place when you woke up feeling like garbage. but all it really takes is one wrong comment to jab at you in a way that hurts for you to wait a bit before excusing yourself for some air. when you glance at your phone, you realize you've been out here for over ten minutes.

jisung's already moving toward you before you can come up with an excuse though, pulling you into his arms and rubbing your back. "i promise, he didn't mean it like that--"

"no, i--i know," you sigh, wrapping yours arms around him. "i'm just sensitive today."

he presses a kiss against the side of your head. "that's okay. do you want to stay? i'll make an excuse to leave if you wanna go--"

you shake your head, and just hug him a little tighter. "just... gimme a minute."

so he does. he sways a little while he holds you, letting you piece yourself back together. you know the guy didn't mean to hurt you in the slightest: seungmin just sometimes made comments that were meant to be funny. this was meant to be funny, too, and yet it hit you in the wrong way. you know he'll apologize, too, if you tell him, but you don't unless it starts bothering you more. it's one minor comment: no need to make a big deal out of it.

"we can stop by that ice cream place on our way home," he hums a little. "or we can cuddle and play games when we get home..."

"... can we do both?"

he chuckles warmly, drawing back and wiping the remaining tears from your eyes. "whatever you wanna do," he says, so filled with love for you. he'll do anything to turn the day around if you let him. "you ready?" he nods toward the door. "i'll say you got a phone call while you were out here."

you lean in for one quick peck before either of you move. "thanks, honey."

and he steals one more kiss from you before the two of you head back inside, feeling better than before.

#nonranghaes.thoughts #nonranghaes.skz #stray kids x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #han x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #sweet bf jisung... men im delulu over in the sense of 'i think we would be chill friends'#i got upset over some shit and now im just kinda here. writing this instead of listening to ppl.#i just needed a few minutes away and this kinda helps but god i might just leave game night #need me a jisung who will get ice cream w me and help turn my day around :(#nonranghaes.vent

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emry-stars-art · 10 months

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Also. Finished them dancing (again) 👑⚔️

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eddies-house · 5 months

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Older!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

(Slight breeding kink, Eddie and reader are parents, a little bit of smut at the end)

You and older!rockstar!eddie who have moved to Palm Springs for a quieter life and have a full house of five kids, three of them teenagers and two pre teens. LA is where the industry is and although you and Eddie loved your life there, you especially being from there, you needed a change in pace and what better place to move than the desert where majority of the population are old people who only care about golf. Paparazzi are no where to be found and Eddie can go to the grocery store without being hounded by fans. Not that he minded too much before, it was the life he longed for in the end after all, but it feels like a breath of fresh air when he can shop for eggs without feeling someone’s stare at the back of his head.

Eddie’s long since cut his long curls as well, insisting that he’s getting old and although he’s not even in his fifties yet, it’s a hassle to comb out his curls, his joints not as oiled up as they used to be. You mourned his brunette curls, saying a dramatic goodbye to them the day he chopped them off himself in your shared bathroom. All grief left the room the second he padded into the kitchen with a reinvented look, shaggy curls still falling from his head, only a shorter variation of his signature style. You didn’t think he could get any sexier but he’d proven you wrong. The way he shook his hair out like a shaggy dog would usually have you scolding him, yelling at him to at least let you get out of the splash zone first. Instead you stare at the new version of your sweet Eddie, the haircut doing him several favors as your eyes move down his tattooed torso, the shine of his nipple rings catching your eye, trailing along every detail you’ve already memorized time and time again. Your thirst for him never wavered, not once in your time together and when he smirked at you like that as he recognized the far off look on your face, your knees nearly gave out.

though his haircut aided in disguising him a little better in public spaces, people caught on quickly and he was suddenly “Eddie Munson sporting sexy new haircut”. Needless to say it was time for a change and you both knew it, Eddie telling you that with all the fame and everything he’s ever wanted, now he just wanted to have a normal suburban life. He never thought he’d see the day where those words came out of his mouth.

Especially not when he grew up loathing suburban picket fence families, the trailer park coming to be the only thing he knew. Those people were assholes anyway, he never ever wanted to be associated with them. And now he was buying a house in a gorgeous neighborhood with his doting wife, he himself being a doting husband and quietly he swore he was not going to lose his roots, he hasn’t lost touch this far into his career and he wasn’t going to start now. He only wanted what was good for his family, also something he never thought he’d utter to himself, fully convinced in his early twenties that a family would never be in his future. To be fair he’d never had one other than Wayne so who was he to envision one for his future self?

Fast forward to when you’ve moved in, the house finally all unpacked and decorated. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re making dinner, your entire family littered around the giant kitchen island also helping out. One of them is making tik tok after tik tok like their life depends on it, their siblings jumping in here and there. Occasionally they ask you to make an appearance but you’d always been camera shy, even in the spotlight that came with Eddie’s career so you avoided it as much as you could. And then Eddie gets involved, learning the dances and just being his rambunctious self, making his kids and yourself laugh.

When your daughter complains that you won’t jump into one of the tik toks one of the other kids sparks an idea and they go a little too quiet but you don’t think too much of it. A few minutes later they’re playing the song that you and Eddie always dance to around the house when it comes on. They play it through the speaker while one sneakily sets up the phone and records. You and Eddie have no idea as Eddie approaches you, picking you up and spinning you in his arms, you with a mixing bowl still in hand while you shriek in surprise.

Eddie sets you down to pluck the bowl out of your hands and discard it on top of the counter, pulling you close to dance and bounce around with you, giving your butt a few love taps which earns a series of “ews” from your audience. Neither of you tear your eyes away from each other, swaying together throughout the kitchen. Eddie has no shame, pressing kisses to your lips repeatedly while singing the lyrics under his breath. He doesn’t care about your kids groaning from across the kitchen, barely even hears them, figures he must be doing something right if his kids are grossed out by his affection for you.

Later he calls them little shitheads when he finds out they recorded and uploaded a video but has a big stupid grin on his face the whole time he scolds them. He knows how nervous you get about stuff like this but he can’t help smiling as he watched the two of you over and over just be so…in love. So enamored with each other. You can’t even be mad either, finding it so cute that your kids would be fond enough of their parents to post them on their tik tok like that.

that night you and Eddie sit in bed with a stupid Christmas movie on while sharing cookies you’d baked with your kids downstairs earlier. He’s moaning about how good they are and you receive endless chocolate flavored kisses. Somehow you end up under him, his hips pressed into yours while he thrusts slowly and deeply into you, his lips gently trailing along your neck, tickling your ear just how you like that forces the sweetest sounds out of your pretty mouth, just how he likes. The praises he mumbles into your skin have you writhing and whimpering beneath him.

“My gorgeous wife, I’m still not over calling you that, y’know that?”

“Taking me so well, you want me to fill you up? Want me to fuck another baby into you? Huh?”

“Gonna fuckin’ spoil you for the rest of my goddamn life baby.”

And you know Eddie is a man of his word. He’ll make good on that promise. And who cares if come the morning, your kids are all waiting by the tree to open gifts with scowls on their face cause they knew what you got up to the night before? It becomes Eddie’s responsibility to keep you quiet in the bedroom.

#idk what this is but it popped into my head and I need it to be my reality real bad #I don’t desire having kids rn but for him I would #AGHHH I LOVE HIM I JUST WANNA TALK ABOUT HIM ALL DAY #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson au

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betweenblackberrybranches · 11 months

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Castle in the sky AU ahoy

This belongs with that first chapter of the CitS AU that i posted last week

Just a first look at the guy

Its just a little side project for comfort

#castle in the sky au #fnaf sun #sundrop #dca #daycare attendant #my art #okay guys look #this is pure comfort #maybe ill rework the au to fit more slice of life fluff in there #bc i am depressed and i need to just live out my days on the flying island please #i mean the actual story i came up with is a little sad so maybe ill just rework it to be happy instead!#just been feeling down and drawing plants is the best distraction #yay new au i guess #putting it on the au pile #guy has no mouth

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h3arteyes4mingi · 1 month

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#I need to lick him #idc where #just please #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez mingi #ateez song mingi #mingi #song mingi #song mingi fluff #song mingi x reader #mingi imagines #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #30 days of idol challenge

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 1 month

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 9

MASTAPOST

Byleth trembled as the Guard gathered in the barracks later that night. He had been found floating belly up near the top floor after having sounded the alarm.

It wasn’t his fault! T-there was a s-s-SIREN. Right there! In front of him! It looked thin and waspish and starving, and he was sure it was gonna maul him to death right then and there. Did you see the teeth on that thing?! Byleth shuddered. His hand went to cover his gills. Imagine being chomped on the neck by that stuff. The stuff of nightmares.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he wasn’t the only one terrified. Well, that was a little misleading. Byleth stood at attention in line with his fellow guardspeople, awaiting dismissal. The debrief was long and agonising, hearing details about how the siren lurked around unnoticed for hours, but most of his comrades were just irritated, or even disappointed. He glanced to the right, where Ableth was nursing his wounds from trying to tackle the little demon, and he wasn’t even fazed! Like, holy shit. If the siren got that close to him, he’d probably shit his pants right on the spot!

No, the one who was terrified was apparently the local administrator, currently having a ‘conversation’ (more like a shouting match) with their commanding officer out of sight, but definitely not out of earshot.

“It was a child! A baby! Do you even begin, begin to comprehend how bad this makes you, and by extension, me, look?! King Arthur will have our heads! Our heads!”

Their commander audibly sighed (which was a big yikes, considering how patient the guy was even on a bad day). “I understand your concerns, administrator, but this guard have done the best they can. The siren child was armed with weaponry the likes of which we have never seen before, and the raids have been tireless besides.”

“Blah blah blah blah do you even hear yourself? Maybe if you had trained these grunts better they wouldn’t have been out-matched by a toddler!” Byleth took offence to that. He’d like to see the office suit face up against that monster!

“Only one man was hurt, and he’ll be disciplined for his recklessness. The child did not set out to attack anyone, he was only stealing supplies, and fled when resistance appeared. It’s the same story as ever.”

“It sounds like your guards are as incompetent as ever!”

“The sirens have no way to access such advance weaponry. Do you understand what this means? If we don’t speak up, what will we do when a proper war band appears, each bearing these weapons? How many towns will they have razed before your dead spirit will be ready to admit the consequences of this cowardice?”

The administrator sputtered. The ridiculous loss of composure, and the raucous laughter of Byleth’s friends helped sooth the abject terror of a hundred more sirens appearing out of the ravines. By Poseidon spare them!

Line breakening~~

With the adrenaline running low, Damian ran on fumes as he twisted through the ravine, tracing back his fin-strokes to the cave where he’d left Phantom. Against all odds, he found it, and almost cried in relief. Throwing his newly acquired loot to the floor, Damian let his body drop like a cold iron, and passed out.

Danny felt pain. Like, all over. Everything hurt. Normally he’d be able to heal any injuries he got while siren fighting, and what a blessing that was. He wasn’t sure just how dense his parents could be, but he didn’t want to test it. The aching agony all over his body reminded him just how little he ate that morning, and man was he regretting it. Stupid Skulker and his stupid hunting dog dolphins. His stupid hunting doglphins. And stupid Damian for making him come close.

Well, that was a little harsh. He couldn’t blame the kid for believing the dolphin propaganda. They had a tight grip on the world, man.

The smell of blood prickled his nose. Danny shot up, fully awake. “Damian where ar-”

There the kid was, collapsed against the rocky floor of their makeshift hideout. Beside him, bags and satchels spilled out with food, bandages and weapons?! Guilt rocked up Danny’s body. Did Damian go hunting for food while he was unconscious? The kid’s tiny body was littered in bruises, and raw patches where the scales barely healed over. His sail was bent at an awkward angle too. Where the hell did he go?! Where did he get weapons?

No wait. Danny came closer and sniffed the loot closely. You had to be kidding him. There were Atlanteans nearby?! Part of Danny very much doubted the idea that the Atlanteans, probably the number 2 siren haters in the world aside from his parents, would just hand Damian a gift basket if he asked them to. So he stole from them?

Jazz would call this catasrophising, but she wasn’t around, so Danny felt pretty justified in panicking a little. Like, what was he thinking?! The Atlanteans would’ve skewered him without a second thought.

A small whimper caught his attention. Danny’s mental disaster train screeched to a halt. Damian was shivering, violently. Oh right. It was like, midnight or something in a deep ocean ravine. The kid was probably freezing. And if he wasn’t healing, that meant he was low on nutrients, and even lower on body heat.

Right, needed to care for the kid. Crap. He was planning on staying near the surface for most of the trip. A blanket was big and cumbersome and he didn’t have much storage space on him.

But goddammit if he let the kid freeze to death on his behalf. Resigning himself to a fate of being bitten once Damian woke up, Danny picked up the tiny, fragile guppy, and tucked him underneath his fins. As Danny began to eat his fill, he wondered just what kind of person he was going to be swimming across two oceans with, to be brave enough to go out singularly into the unknown…

Damian awoke to the sound of chewing, and gentle purring. He missed Alfred the cat. Poor kitty. He probably missed Damian too. It’s ok, Damian can make it up to him. He’ll give the little kitty all the pets and grooming he could ask for.

A weight settled on his hair, and- oh… oh that was so good. He didn’t know Alfred could pet him too. Maybe this was one of the good endings to his life, one where he’d spend life as a kitten, without a care in the world. That would be so nice, just being there and safe and warm. The hand stroked and straightened his hair, and it snaked down to where his ears were and scratched them. It was pure heaven. Damian thought that such a place would be forever closed off to him, but maybe the world had decided to be kind…?

“Woah, you’re actually lowkey super adorable like this.” Alfred said. Why did Alfred the cat sound like a pasty-faced teenage boy? He’d always imagined him like the real Alfred: prim, proper, distinguished.

“You sound strange, Alfred.” Damian mumbled. The hand scratched his ear again, and Damian’s purring intensified. “Please return to your proper voice at once.”

“Dude, I have no idea who that is.”

Nonsense. Damian had named his cat after a very distinguished man, and let him know it every time he saw him. How could he not know his own name?

“That is preposterous. You are Alfred the cat, my esteemed pet and loyal member of the family.”

Aflred the cat snorted. He snorted. “Oh my god that is so gold. I’m going to hold this over you literally until you grow old and wrinkly.”

Damian felt… offended. That was so mean! Why would Alfred the cat say such a thing, to him, Damian, his owner and friend! Damian always made sure to treat his pets with the care and respect they deserved, and this is what he got!?

“B-bad kitty. You will be disciplined.”

And Alfred the cat just kept laughing! Alright, the air of relaxation evaporated as Damian started getting annoyed. He opened his eyes, ready to teach his wayward cat some manners when-

The last 24 hours caught up again. Before him was not Alfred the cat, as he had thought, but Phantom completely healthy again, lying on his back, laughing his heart out. Almost literally, too. Damian watched as Phantom’s still beating heart, and water-filled lungs bounced and jiggled inside his chest cavity with each half-choked laugh. It was mesmerizing, and kind of nauseating.

Suddenly Damian couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, just an overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Phantom!” He cried out, voice almost cracking. Phantom tackled him into a hug, and Damian only put up a token resistance. It just felt so… right. “You are… You have recovered from your injuries.”

“It’s Danny, actually.” Phantom, er- Danny, said, voice soft, quiet. Almost vulnerable… “Danny Phantom. Most people just know the Phantom part.”

Danny… Daniel…. “I was foolish. I should not have ignored your warnings. Forgive me, Daniel.”

“Hey now, don’t you start picking up the Fruitloop’s habits. It’s never Daniel. Just Danny. Daniel’s a randomass human name, but Danny’s mine.”

“It does not change the fact that it sounds like a nickname. I… I do not do nicknames.” Damian said. Normally he paraded this fact as a matter of pride. With Richard, Drake, even Kent. Now, with Daniel encompassing his body in warmth, he felt strangely small.

“And I don’t do self-deprecation. So what about a deal? I’ll forgive you, if you promise to call me Danny.” The older boy said, voice leaving no room for argument. And yet, the playful tone underneath it gave Damian something akin to comfort. The way Richard did in the early days, despite Damian’s barbs and open threats.

“Very well, D-Danny.” Damian forced out. The name felt alien on his tongue. “This is a privilege few can boast to.”

Daniel- no, Danny, chuckled again. “You sound like a kid saying a swear for the first time and they’re really scared of being caught.”

“I am not a child.” He was never allowed to be.

“You are crazy though. And reckless. And that’s coming from me!”

Ah, so Danny figured it out. “You noticed the smell of Atlantean.”

“What were you thinking? They hate sirens. With a capital H.”

“I will not apologise for my actions in there. You needed food. It was my own poor judgement that got you injured, so it was my responsibility to rectify that.”

Danny was quiet for a moment. “I’m really trying to channel that ‘angry because I’m worried about you’ energy that my sister does, but you’re making it really difficult. Now I just feel bad.”

“They posed no threat to me. It was an easy operation.” Damian said. Danny sighed again.

“What am I gonna do with you? Outside of taking you home, that is.”

“For one, you could unhand me.” Damian’s words were hollow, even to him.

“And let you freeze to death? No chance. Now come on. The sun’s about to rise, and you need your breakfast.”

“Have you eaten enough yourself?” It would not do to let this foolish teenager hurt himself for Damian’s sake again.

“Dude, I’m like triple your size and age right now. It’s my job to be worrying over you.” Damian harrumphed.

It felt nice to be cared for again.

LINE BREAK BABY

Bruce hung up the phone. Dick was about ready to riot, and the others were on a wire-thin line too. It was one of the most exhausting calls he’d done in his life, but it had to be done. He wasn’t going to leave his family in the dark, not after Jason.

It wasn’t just he who had potentially lost a son, however. In his hours of maddened searching, he’d glossed over the fact that the son of local siren hunters, the Drs Fenton, had also gone missing. Tim was already on the case, sifting through thousands of hours of CCTV footage to analyse the kid’s behaviour of the course of the last six weeks. Two unrelated boys going missing at the same time. And one boy had been displaying suspicious behaviour for months before hand. Something was up.

And so Bruce straightened his tie. He refused to wear any form of black. Not now, not yet, while there was still hope to be clung to. His trip to Fentonworks was in part to share condolences, and in part to investigate. Wherever Damian was, the clues lay somewhere surrounding Daniel Fenton.

He just hoped Damian had to be ok. If this hope died, Bruce felt like he might die with it.

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random0lover · 5 months

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Gotta keep reminding myself that:

Simon Riley would still love me with my hip dips

John Price would still love me with my belly rolls

Kyle Garrick would still love me with stretch marks

And Johnny Mactavish would still love me even though my thighs touch and look massive when I sit down

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rillils · 3 months

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i hate my angst loving self so much sometimes

think about a confused and not-entirely-there bucky screaming at steve, asking him why he left him there on the snow, asking why he didnt come back for him, telling him how long he waited for him to come and save him

FINE HONEY, YOU WANTED ANGST, I'LL GIVE YOU ANGST. AND I'LL CRY ABOUT IT 😭

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, tw: suicidal thoughts, very mild gore, nightmares, post-catws, angst is definitely not my thing what am i even doing here asjdhsjdh wordcount: 3815 a side note: while the language here is used in accordance with steve's profound sense of guilt, it doesn't reflect the author's personal beliefs on the matter - aka IT'S NOT HIS FAULT SKDLKS MY POOR BABY 😭😭

It always starts off quiet, like the darkened hall of a theater in the split second between the curtain opening over the stage and the actor’s first line. Silence, please. The show is about to begin.

The scenery changes sometimes, but it’s the mountains Steve sees most often in his dreams: the soulless gray of stone, and the blinding white of snow coating everything, from the peaks, to the valley, to the copse of fir trees, huddled together like children in the cold. Just like he remembers from that day in the Alps. No one knows how to torture him better than his own mind.

The wind rises sharp and icy, lifting sleets of frost with it, and a chill rolls down Steve’s spine. It’s not the cold, though.

It’s fear, congealing like a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. The show is about to begin. And he’s watched it all to the end countless times before.

“Steve?”

His head whips around, and Bucky’s right there, like he always is. A fixed point, unchanged, unmovable, his boots sinking soundlessly in the thick layer of snow beneath them.

He looks so beautiful, so oddly alive against the backdrop of his desolate place; a man at the peak of his youth, the pink of his cheeks nearly glowing next to the deep blue of his uniform, his hair combed to a movie-star shine, parted neatly to the side. It’s cruel, how perfect he is. Preserved like a cherished heirloom in Steve’s mind, never fading, never aging; a living picture, soft and rosy-cheeked. He belongs in a dance hall, in a crowded street, in the cheerful chaos of the fourth of July, in the color and noise of fireworks, in the tangle of ooh’s and aah’s under the firelit sky. He doesn’t belong here. But he’ll never leave this place.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s head tilts to the side, confused. “You left a long time ago.”

“Bucky,” Steve tries to say, but the name dies on his lips.

The light in Bucky’s eyes dulls to a flicker, carrying a heavy gloom over his features. He looks so sad, all of a sudden. He never looked sad when Steve was around, Steve remembers that – and Steve never learned how to make it better.

He can never make this better.

“Steve.” All the color’s draining from his cheeks, quickly, leaving only the paleness of death behind. His eyes – they pierce right through Steve, empty and cold, so cold, and Steve shudders from head to toe.

“I waited for you for so long,” Bucky’s blue lips say, with a mournful lilt Steve used to hear in his mother’s voice when she would sing to him, all those heart-twisting songs about a home she’d never see again. “Where were you?”

Something dark spreads from within across the pristine blue of Bucky’s coat, dripping slowly from his shoulder, black like ink–

blood

– smothering the rich color underneath, reaching down, down–

he fell

– down along Bucky’s arm, until it’s streaking the back of his hand–

blood, it’s blood, he fell, he’s going to fall

– pooling ruby-dark at Bucky’s fingertips.

Soon the drops will spill all over the fresh snow, staining it red, too.

“You left me here.”

Steve can’t breathe.

“Why did you leave me here, Steve?”

Steve can’t breathe.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, and the next breath stings in his lungs, ice-cold and merciless, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, so sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault,” he chants, hands clawing at his own chest. But what will it help? He can’t undo this. He can never undo this. “I should have held onto you,” he sobs brokenly, and it’s strange, how he can never tell when he starts crying in his dreams, but he always feels the tears streaming down his face, real as his grief is real, clogging up his throat. “I never should have let you fall.”

Bucky steps forward, dark blood trailing behind him on the ground. Steve’s heart jolts like a spooked horse, pounding loud and fast with adrenaline.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

He sounds so gentle. So devastatingly sad.

“Did I mean so little to you?”

Steve shakes his head, No, no, no, everything, you meant everything, always, I swear, tears flicking off the edge of his jaw to be lost in the snow-packed wind. “I t-thought you were dead,” he sobs, like he’s still curled up into the blown-up flank of that train, like he’s still got his face pressed to the ice-burn of its metal and praying for everything to end, now, before reality can reshape itself around him and tell him that Bucky is gone forever.

Something mean slithers behind Bucky’s eyes. “And you would have left my body to the wolves?” he says, his voice dangerously sharp over the moaning wind. “You didn’t think I deserved a proper burial?”

It’s snowing on the outside, but it’s inside that Steve feels ice gripping at his guts.

“You could have sent me home to my folks.”

It burns.

“To my sisters.”

It burns so bad, the shame crackling under his skin.

“At least then my family would have had a body to cry over. But it never even occurred to you, did it.”

Steve’s tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he pushes out uselessly, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve–”

“Or did you think that I was like you?” Bucky presses on, a cruel sneer forming on his white face. “Is that it? You fooled yourself so nice, you really thought I was like you? Like poor little Stevie? With no one left in the world who would miss me? No one who would even care if I was dead or alive?” He pauses, lips curling as though a new and amusing thought only just occurred to him. “Oh. Stevie, no. Did you think you were my whole world? Are you really that pathetic?”

“No,” Steve rasps, swallowing back tears and still drowning, drowning in them, “I never thought, I never– Please, Buck, I’m so sorry–”

Bucky’s silhouette blinks in and out of sight, and when he comes back, one moment later, he’s standing right before Steve, so close he need only reach out to touch him. His sneer is gone, but the depth of hurt in his eyes slices at Steve’s heart just as sharply.

“They took me, Stevie. You left me behind and they took me. Look,” he says, showing Steve the torn flesh where his left arm used to be – it was here just a moment ago, it was, Steve could swear it, it was right here – the bloody pulp of it, a frayed shard of white bone jutting out through the ripped muscle, sickening. His mouth, when Steve can finally look back, is curled back to show his teeth, the smile almost kind if it didn’t feel like a knife tearing at Steve’s own flesh. “This is all your doing. Isn’t it pretty?” Bucky tells him sweetly. “Tell me it’s pretty, Steve. Tell me it’s pretty.”

Without warning, Bucky’s hand darts up to clamp around Steve’s chin, gripping his face viciously. His touch is like ice, searing painfully into Steve’s skin, and Steve staggers in place, helpless but to look right into Bucky’s wide, desperate eyes.

“I was so scared,” Bucky whispers, hot tears spilling over his deathly pale cheeks. “I was locked in that place for so long, I couldn’t tell day from night anymore. It was so cold, and I was so alone, so alone without you, Stevie.”

His fingernails claw into Steve’s skin until they’re drawing blood, and Steve can only sob, can only take it, can only hope this will sate the hollowness he sees in Bucky’s eyes, if only for an instant. But it won’t, he knows it won’t. It never does.

If he could kneel at Bucky’s feet and beg for his forgiveness, keep him warm with the heat of his own tears, wash the blood away–

“I thought I was going to die. Every time they dragged me back to that table, I would tell myself, this is it. This is how it’s going to end,” Bucky tells him gently, nodding his head. “Sometimes, I even thought I should end it myself, before they could. But do you know what the worst part was? I didn’t die. No matter how bad I wanted it, none of the stuff they put me through ever did it. Hope kept me alive,” he snarls, soft through his bloodied smile. “That was my curse. I believed in you. I thought you would find me, save me. I told them you would come for me, and they laughed in my face, Stevie! They knew better.”

The sound that spills from Bucky’s mouth is the twisted, poisoned imitation of a laugh, emptied of all feeling, sharp like fingernails scraped across a blackboard.

“Don’t say that,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head, “please, don’t say that, no.” And he’d cover his ears if he could, lock that ugly truth out of his mind forever, but no muscle in his body will move until Bucky’s done with him.

“Do you know what happened then, Steve? You do know, don’t you?” Bucky asks, thrusting his face into Steve’s until only mere inches separate the tips of their noses – his eyes staring into Steve’s, a creeping echo of insanity gleaming from their depths. “They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.”

Hell. This is Hell.

“Because of you.”

This is what true torment looks like. No fire and brimstone, no howling souls of the damned, no blazing hail raining down upon him.

“It was always because of you.”

Just him and Bucky’s ghost, and a winter that never thaws.

“Bucky...”

The snowstorm rises against him with violence, angry, roaring in Steve’s ears, spreading frost over his chest, his arms, his bare face, freezing the tears caught in his eyelashes. Quiet, it demands. Don’t you speak to me. You have no right to speak to me.

But the yawning hole in Steve’s chest won’t stop screaming at him, starved for forgiveness, for a respite, for a mercy he never earned.

“Please, Buck... please...”

Bucky’s hand guides him down, pushing him to his knees. He crouches over Steve, gaze locked with his, heedless of the blood dripping dark and thick between his fingers; leaning in like he’s about to share a secret.

“I held out until I just couldn’t anymore. I tried to be strong, for you,” Bucky says in a harsh whisper. “But you never came.” His face, twisted by grief, wet with new tears. Steve cups it in his palms, but it’s no use: he can’t soothe this hurt. It’s too late now.

“Bucky, Bucky, sweetheart, forgive me– please, forgive me...”

Bucky’s grip on him relents; his fingers smear red over Steve’s cheek, four bloody streaks, and he strokes his knuckles over them, unbearably gentle.

“I waited for you for so long,” he says, mournful. His face is as cold as ice between Steve’s hands, stinging, burning. “Why didn’t you look for me?”

It hurts, it hurts so bad, so deep inside Steve’s heart.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

The wind surges up around them, rattling Steve’s bones from within. The snow’s soaking into his pants, swallowing up his knees, colder, colder, the blizzard’s smothering him, blinding him, only Bucky’s eyes bright in his vision, crying, accusing, screaming, screaming, screaming–

“WHY DIDN’T YOU LOOK FOR ME?”

Steve jerked awake in the darkness, gasping for breath, a handful of sheets clutched dangerously tight in his fist. He barely even registered the soft, alarmed noise coming from the other side of the bed.

“Steve? It’s all right, you’re safe now.”

His eyes scoured the dark bedroom frantically, fighting through the chilling veil of ice still creeping at the edge of his vision. His heart hammered loud like thunder in his ears, pulsing so wildly in his throat, he thought for a moment that it would burst out of his body.

“Steve.”

Where was he?

The mountains–

“It was just a dream. You’re safe now, I promise. You’re home.”

His gaze focused on the only source of light: the faint glow filtering in through the blinds, the familiar orange hue of the street lights in their neighborhood, casting a striped pattern on the floor. A rug, there was a rug there – and a pair of slippers flicked just a bit too far from the bed.

“Come back to me, baby.”

The crumpled lumps of two discarded socks, that never made it to the hamper – oh, Bucky hated it when he did that.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me?”

A flicker of white–

– snow–

– Alpine, uncurling from her favorite spot and slipping soundlessly out of the room.

“Can you look at me? Steve.”

He turned his head towards the sound, staring wide-eyed into the shadows until finally, the outline of Bucky’s body emerged, sitting only an arm’s length away from him.

“That’s it, that’s good, Stevie.”

There was kindness in his voice, but his brow was creased with worry. His torso was half-twisted towards Steve, his body poised as though ready to reach out for him, but Bucky hadn’t touched him yet. Good, that was good. No. It hurt. That hurt.

Steve swallowed.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. Can you do that? For me? Slow and easy, c’mon, with me.”

It was only then that Steve became aware of his own heavy breaths, the harsh sound of which filled up the room, gasp after gasp. He let go of the sheets and lay his hand on his own chest, where he could feel his pounding heartbeat, and tried to match Bucky’s calm, measured breathing as best as he could. He thought he was going to throw up.

“That’s it, just like that,” Bucky encouraged him.

Bucky–

Something flashed before Steve’s eyes; a fragment of a pale white face, with sneering lips and blood-stained teeth, taunting him with its cruel laughter.

You left me behind and they took me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real.”

Bucky shifted minutely on the bed, and a fleck of light caught the metal plates of his arm, a silver gleam darting quickly in the night.

Steve’s chin trembled. His throat closed up.

They took my arm first, and then they took everything else.

The tears came back before he could stop them, gathering hotly behind his eyes, pressing urgently to spill over.

“Bucky,” he choked out, and in the next moment he was crawling into Bucky’s open arms, curling his shaking body into Bucky’s sturdy frame. Bucky cradled him close, rubbing a soothing hand between Steve’s shoulder blades as Steve sobbed freely, pouring all of his anguish in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“W-when you fell,” Steve stammered pitifully, clutching at the back of Bucky’s t-shirt with the desperation of a drowning man, “I should have come looking for you, I should’ve been there, should’ve– should’ve brought you back, I–”

“No, no, Steve,” Bucky rumbled, rocking him gently in his arms, “don’t do this to yourself. Please, baby, I’m begging you.”

Steve shook his head no, hiding himself deeper into the nook offered by Bucky’s neck, just beneath the hinge of his jaw. His chest felt too tight, too full – like a balloon filled with water and straining to contain it, the paper-thin skin tense to the point of bursting.

“I should have come for you, they – they never would have taken you, I wouldn’t have let them,” he stumbled on helplessly, “I would have died first! God, I would’ve... I would have died first, I swear, Buck, I swear...”

Bucky stroked his hand over Steve’s hair, kissing the spot above the shell of his ear, dark with cold sweat. Steve felt the dampness of it across his whole body, under the clinging cotton of his pyjamas, the unpleasant moisture cooling on his skin and leaving him to shudder in Bucky’s embrace.

“Look at me,” Bucky called softly. It was a simple request, laced with just the same gentleness Bucky would use sometimes to coax Alpine into his arms, but still Steve felt panic pool in his stomach.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to look Bucky in the eye, not like this. Not when the truth – Because of you. It was always because of you. – was out at last.

What a scam he was. A whole lifetime spent preaching bravery, and the one time it truly mattered, he couldn’t even be brave enough to face the consequences of his own mistakes.

Please, don’t hate me, he sobbed silently against Bucky’s neck. You should. You have every right to. But please... please...

“Sweetheart, please, look at me.”

It took more strength than Steve had ever even known he possessed, but slowly, hesitantly, he let himself be pulled out of his hiding spot, and lifted his gaze to meet Bucky’s, if only for a fleeting moment.

Bucky’s flesh hand reached up to cup his jaw, working his thumb tenderly over Steve’s skin to wipe his tears away – a sweet, but fruitless endeavor, as more salty tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks, relentless.

“The truth is, neither of us could have known I would survive that fall,” Bucky said.

Steve shook his head, his eyes screwed shut against the flood of fresh tears. “I should’ve tried anyway, I should have come to you. I should have been there with you.”

Bucky grasped him by the arms, barely squeezing at all. The force wasn’t in his touch; it was in his voice, quiet to match the nighttime gloom, but firm nonetheless.

“What if they had taken you, too? What if they’d made you like me, what then?” he said, an edge of desperation coloring his voice, as if he couldn’t bear the very thought. “Do you think you could have lived with yourself, if you’d woken up one day to find that you had the blood of innocents on your hands?”

Steve’s head snapped up then, heat flashing fiercely in his chest. “What would I have cared, when you were there with me!” he cried out, panting heavily in the wake of that outburst.

Perhaps he couldn’t call this bravery; but when Steve could breathe again, their eyes finally met again.

If he’d feared he would see hate, or disdain, or resentment looking back at him, he didn’t find any of those. What he did find instead, staring at him from Bucky’s ever-familiar face, was the stubborn mark of love, shimmering brightly in Bucky’s eyes.

“Of course you would have cared,” Bucky whispered fiercely, cradling Steve’s face in both of his hands. “It would have killed you, and it would have killed me too. I could have never, ever forgiven myself, if they’d gotten their filthy hands on you because of me.”

His voice wavered, heavy with the weight of unshed tears. Steve could see the glossy sheen of them, threatening to spill over Bucky’s cheeks any second now, and felt his own heart split in two at the sight.

“Bucky,” he rasped, wetly, clasping Bucky’s wrists with his own hands to hold onto them, turning his face into those beloved palms to kiss them helplessly, one and then the other. Bucky never stopped holding him.

“Listen to me,” he said urgently, “listen to me now. We can’t change the past. We can’t, Steve.” A new sob ripped itself painfully from Steve’s throat, one he couldn’t have helped if he wanted to. “We can’t. It’s done, it’s there, we can’t take it back. And God, do I wish we could, believe me. But I want you to hear me when I say this: I am so grateful for what we have now. In the present. Our present.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath that rippled through his whole frame, as he openly struggled to keep his words clear and his voice steady. He was always the braver one, Steve thought, thrusting one of his hands out to grab a fistful of Bucky’s t-shirt, right over his breastbone.

“Steve. God, could you have ever dreamed that we could have this? I never even dared to hope for something like it, not even on my best days.”

He paused. Steve clung to him, his chest tight with emotion.

“The way we got here... Would I have chosen that? If I’d been given a choice, would I have wanted it to happen like that? No, of course not,” Bucky continued. “But if you asked me now, would I do it all over again, just for a chance to be here with you? I would say yes.” Steve whimpered, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face; but Bucky held him firmly, looking him right in the eye and nodding just as stubbornly, a watery smile on his lips. “Yes, Steve. Yes. A million times yes.”

He broke at last, and Steve lost what little control he had of himself. He tugged Bucky forward by his shirt and threw his arms around him, crushing their bodies together as if his life depended on it. Bucky returned the embrace with that same urgency, holding him tight as Steve muffled his sobs against Bucky’s shoulder, and buried his face in Steve’s hair in return.

The pinprick-like sensation of Bucky’s tears wetting his skin, as Bucky trembled quietly against him, felt like a bruise to Steve’s naked heart.

“Forgive me,” he begged, and he couldn’t have said what it was that he was seeking forgiveness for: if the pain he had caused Bucky now, or the one he couldn’t prevent so long ago.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Bucky murmured in his ear, his voice thick. “But I’ll say it, if you need to hear it.”

“Please,” Steve whimpered.

Bucky hugged him impossibly closer. “I forgive you. Always, sweetheart.”

The tightness within Steve’s chest unraveled, and in that moment, he breathed anew. Relief washed over him – and he cried, and cried, like a person cries when they’re gifted with kindness for the first time in a very, very long time, he cried until he thought he’d exhausted all his tears.

Bucky laid them both back against his pillow, chest to chest, shushing Steve’s hiccupping breaths with whispers of sweet nothings, never once letting him go.

“All that’s left to do now,” he said softly then, pressing a kiss to Steve’s brow, “is for you to forgive yourself.”

Steve burrowed deeper into his warmth, spent.

It would take a long time for that, and a tough, strenuous walk on the tortuous path towards that healing place. In the meantime, though, he could wrap himself into the safety of Bucky’s arms, and slip into a dreamless sleep for once.

#stucky just stucky #stucky #stevebucky #rillers scribbles #I KNOW HONEY #THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU WERE GOING FOR BUT I JUST HAD TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM #I SHOULD NEVER BE ALLOWED TO TOUCH ANGST I'M OUT OF MY DEPTH AGSDJAHDKAJSJDLASKDJ #give me fluff please 😭😭#i need cuddles and smooches for my babies 😭😭#oh my god i cannot #*lies on the floor*#ALSO HONEY I LOVE YOU I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GREAT DAY <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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