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the-bear-and-his-sunbird · 25 days

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After ten years of not writing fanfiction, Baldurs Gate 3 has me in a chokehold. Inspired by one of the songs Halsins VA Dave Johnson put into his Halsin playlist, i made this. If you want the full experience listen to "I want to be your only pet" by Bombay Bicycle Club.

The whole playlist ist gold to be honest, so if you haven't do check that out.

The Tav is based on my Character Òrfhlaith (say it like Orla) who started as a Sorcerer/Bard and respecc. into Sorcerer/Paladin. For the sake of the story, the Tav is not named and only described with she/her pronouns and the title songbird.

English is not my first language, so if you find any spelling errors or grammatical mistakes, please do point it out.

I Want to be your only pet (I want to let go and forget)

Paring: Halsin x female!Tav (Halsin POV)

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Yearning.

If you prefer Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55315462

Warnings: Mentions of past Trauma, sight violence, explicit description of blood, hinted panic attack, explicit sexual thoughts. Minord DNI!

Description:

“My Bear, my bear. My sweet, sweet Bear. I will protect you. I will see you safe. You have nothing to fear as long as you are with me. And if I cannot promise you anything, I promise you this: You are safe with me.”

Little snippets of Halsin learning to let down his guard around Tav and his every growing yearning through Act I- III.

After the group freed him from the Goblin Camp, which was honestly a miracle in itself, they went on to save the Grove. Halin still could not believe it. After all the moments worrying, hoping, praying he would find a way to ward off all harm, it was done. The Grove was preserved and on the way to begin anew, whilst the Tieflings were on their way to Baldurs Gate. Not that he would call it safe in any way. Even if he wished them a happier ending, he feared for their lives on the road to the city. Halsin prayed that Sylvanus would watch over the group of refugees. Especially whenever he thought about them having to pass through the shadow cursed lands on their own.

When they finished saying their goodbyes, Halsin asked permission to stay at camp. In his heart he knew that they would need his help to pass through the shadow curse. After all, he had seen it put into place, living with its weight for over a hundred years. If his knowledge could help them towards their goal, he would be glad for it.

Their way would be long and traveling with them would mean leaving the grove behind but for all that it was worth he was relieved to give up the title of Archdruid; it had clung to his shoulders long enough. If he was being honest, he never was really good at it. Sure enough, he understood enough of politics and leadership to keep everything running, but it teared at him. Every nag and every whisper a shred of himself fell away. People like Nettie made it bearable, but he knew that due to his position there was a distance between them that could not be bridged. So he quietly yearned for nature's sweet caress again, when he would run out in the early morning hours his paws on the soft, wet ground, looking for berries and honey. Hunting at night. Unburdened from the limitations, being Archdruid gave him. No, he was not sad at all, to let all that go. and Francesca would lead the Druids to a new beginning. Remind them of the true intentions they should strive for.

The first days in camp were truly magical, though so very different than the hundred years before: Being able to enjoy the sunbeams on his face, the crisp air of morning, knowing that no one would ask him to lead the way. No one to depend on his judgment and whisper about his decisions in the hidden corners, when they thought he would not hear them. The people in camp gave him space to go after his day, not wanting his leadership nor needing it. They shared their meals with him and though some eyed him suspiciously, no one bothered him. Mostly he was left to ponder over the shadow curse and the illithid infection.

Though she came to him every now and then. Halsin could tell that she was the leader of their, rather chaotic, crew. When she spoke, they listened. Some rather … reluctantly at the beginning. But nevertheless, they accepted her plans and did what they could to support each other on the road. And she was patient with them in return. At least more patient than most of the people he knew. Even when she had to end the quarrels between them seemingly every other night, she only used harsh words in situations deserving of them.

That did not mean that she was above frustrations: One time, after a particularly bad fight between Gale and Astarion (the rogue accused the brown haired man of having stolen a copy of one of his books to eat it, telling him to use his own damn library for dinner) where they nearly set the campground on fire, she had set them straight sternly, her brow furrowing, using a surprising colorful vocabulary.

Halsin admired her vigor to go on, no matter how bad her group returned at night. Often she would go to every person in camp chatting for a few moments, her face still swollen and bloody. Most of the time, she would swiftly discard her armor and put on some (relatively) clean clothes, yet sometimes she only undid the heaviest part of her armor, chucking it away carelessly, as she went on to greet the first person. She asked them about their day, offering them counsel if needed. Every time she also appeared at his side at the end of her round. Her eyes shining with a warmth that he could only describe with a warm summer's evening.

He came to like the routine. The few first nights she would ask about his comfort and share a few kind words with him. Later, when they neared the shadow cursed lands, she requested advice trying to find the best route. While he explained she listened intently, nodding while he was mapping the ways and when he finished, she thanked him for his words before she left. It was nice. Not having to answer for every decision that was made, but his words being heard and acknowledged. It made him feel warm.

After that she returned to her usual routine. Asking him about his well being with a soothing voice, smiling at him like the fresh morning sun. One particular evening, after she left, Halsin could not help but keep thinking about the way she leaned her head when she was listening. Or how her eyes focused when she was mulling over ideas.

He found her attractive, he did not need to deny it. But the way his attention seemed to stick to her, like a fly on a honeypot, made him uneasy. There was a time and place for such thoughts and he did not believe the current situation to be one of those. So he stuffed the thoughts of her laugh and her eyes far away and carried on.

Halsin heard her sing, one time at camp. Wyll was sharing a story about the fine dances back in Baldurs Gate and bards that could induce you with whatever feeling they pleased, with just a few strokes of their instruments. The Warlock recalled the way one particularly skilled bard sang a ballad full of yearning and heartache, that he never heard again. Halsin heard her surprised exclamation, telling the horned man excitedly that she knew that song by heart. Wyll had politely asked her to sing it for them, only if she did not mind. And she did not mind at all.

Her voice sounded a bit coarse at the beginning (there were not many occasions to sing anymore) but soon her voice unfolded like a flower petal in bloom. Halsin could have sworn to Sylvanus, her voice sounded like a songbird, both sweet and rich. Soon she was weaving a net with each syllable, entangling the listeners with her honey voice. Turning his head he could see entranced eyes, some humming along softly and tapping their feet. A gentle breeze passed through them as the song ended. Gentle quiet settled over camp. For a moment everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts before Karlach asked for another song, excitement barely contained. With a glint in her eyes, the songbird began to sing a folkish song. One that was easier to follow and more well known, stomping along to the beat. And soon enough a few of them joined in. All in all it went on to be a surprisingly jolly evening. From his spot on a thick branch, Halsin watched them sing and dance around, grabbing onto the unwilling campmates pulling them along, much to their pretended dismay.

She had suddenly stood before him then. Hand outstretched, eyes shining like the sun itself had made its home there. With his heart pounding in his chest, Halsin stared up to her.

“Will you be joining us?” She asked in a melodic tone. He wished for nothing more than to keep her voice around for the rest of the night.

It would have only taken him a word. One word and he could have joined their merry dancing, their laughter. But he did not dare to. Not with the memory of the Shadow Curse hanging on his shoulders, whispering every single failure he could count into his ear. Not with Thaniel lost, not with the unspoken promise of saving him or die trying. With a heart so heavy it could drag him right into the ground, Halsin shook his head. “Another time. But thank you for your invitation. It is greatly appreciated.” Her smile faltered. He could have sworn to see a flicker of concern in her eyes. With a pang of regret the Druid tried to say something soothing- He did not mean to steal the sun from her eyes.

As he was trying to find his words, she smiled again. “All is well, my friend. You take your rest and tomorrow we will see to the Shadow Curse.”

Her eyes laid intently on him, unfaltering. He could swear he saw a different kind of fire there. “We will see it broken and Thaniel freed once again. I swear." The way she said it filled Halsin with hope. She seemed so sure of it.

Before he could say anything in response, someone from the group (he could swear it was Shadowheart, rare laughter spilling from her lips) was pulling her away from him again. He watched her pick up her laughter full of sunshine again, holding the hand of the young cleric. Under the sea of stars she radiated light and warmth, turning in a circle, stumbling over her feet and catching herself, before holding onto someone elses hand. Halsin wondered how it would feel to catch her, to make her laugh and bring the light into her eyes. Holding her close to his chest as he traced the rivers of starlight on her skin. To bite her tender skin, taste her, devour her. Halsin inhaled sharply, willing the golden sparks on his skin away. He reminded himself that such were no thoughts to have. Now was not the time to relax and to come undone. Not before he had freed Thaniel and lifted the Shadow curse. This was his duty before everything else. She would help him. That was a small relief in the suffocating fear that had nested itself in his heart so very long ago.

With a sigh he looked at the wood he was chipping away at. He had to be alone for a moment. Grabbing his utensils, he stood up, swiftly waving goodnight towards the group as his feet carried him back to his bedroll. Staring up towards the stars, he wondered if he should carve a dancing bird.

After they saved Thaniel and killed Ketheric Thorm the land bloomed once more, roots emerging from the earth tasting the sun's kiss once again.There were no words in the world that could describe how he felt then. Everything he worked for, all that he wished for over 100 years, came to life. Just like that. The land that had clawed at them mere hours ago, now flourished in the light of the sun, reaching for it like they were drowning. Halsin felt like the weight on his shoulders had lifted a bit. Years of feeling like there was not enough air, now seemed to ease, as every inhale came a little easier to him. For a moment he let himself rest and gazed at the scenery around him, when a high pitched yelp ripped him out of his thoughts.

Startled, he turned towards the sound: Karlach had gathered everyone in reach of her in her arms, squeezing them tight to her chest. His Songbird laughed as she was swept up in the embrace of the tiefling woman, laughing freely. He cherished the starry eyed look she had, as she looked back on the land, her chest swelling with pride. There was seldom a moment when she looked so full of wonder, so carefree.While she smiled often before the others, when no one looked, her eyes turned grim, as a heaviness Halsin recognized all too well took hold of them. Shoulders sagging as if the burden of the world sat on her shoulders. It was a relief to see her unburdened, even if only for a moment.

When his gaze lingered on her face a second too long, their eyes met and time seemed to still, nothing existing besides them for a moment. Then she shot the elf a questioning look. Shame bloomed in his chest, as Halsin had realized he got caught staring like a fool and then kept looking at her still. Suddenly he wished to make himself as small as a mouse. But to his surprise she merely reached over to him and pulled him into the hug

“You are officially one of us now.” She said sneaking her free arm around his chest, squeezing him towards her. At least he thought it was her arm.

“Next time join us earlier.” So she must have thought his stare stemmed from lacking inclusion in the group. Halsin hoped, she would not find out the real reason he had been staring.

That evening the group celebrated once again. It was rather modest, as the weeks before had depleted their ressources greatly. Still, the relief after surviving moonrise tower seemed to give them new energy. Now the whole group seemed to buzz with excitement for the next chapter to come. As they drank and talked, Halsin could feel himself relax more than he had in years before- His Pipe pressed between lips, letting out a puff of fragrant smoke and watching it swirl into the bright night sky, whittling tools in hand again, chipping away at it slowly. The ground under him was soft and warm, bustling with life, ready to begin anew.

He chuckled as the songbird watched her in an armwrestling competition with Karlach, Wyll and Lae’zel on the side, discussing their forms, throwing in a bit of advice every now and then. Even if she was strong, Karlach bested the songbird easily, apologizing the whole time. Halsin could swear he saw a coin switch hands in the background. Whoever did not bet on Karlach was foolish, that woman would best everyone in camp, including himself. As Gale and Astarion started to bicker again, the songbird stood up and shooed them to do “something useful for once” with a grin. She loved them, he could see it clear as day. Seeing her made his chest uncomfortably tight.

Later that evening she came to him, out of breath, sweat glistening on her skin. She had been playing with the dog and the owlbear again. Eunning away with Scratches' ball before getting tackled, when she did not manage to run fast enough. She pointed her finger to the spot next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” She inquired, her skin flushed and eyes twinkling.

He smiled. “ No. If you want to rest here for a while, you are more than welcome.” The elf shifted to the side, allowing her to sit down next to him. She quickly made herself comfortable on the floor and crossed her legs. Her gaze shifted to his hands, holding his piece of wood.

“Can you teach me how to whittle? Every time I see you, I wonder how you do it and … I thought that this night is as good as any to ask you. If that’s not too much to ask” her voice seemed to waver at the end.

Was she nervous? Halsin wondered if he was intimating her somehow. Before he spoke he softened his tone on instinct.

“I don’t know if there is much to say about it. Most people tend to perceive it as boring, anyway. But nevertheless I’d be honored to show you, if you really want to.”

She shrugged. “Well most people can stuff it.” A huff escaped her lips when she saw the surprised look Halsin gave her.

“You do well to know what you like: They cannot take that away from you. No matter how much they sneer about it, this is yours. And besides: whittling is a hobby as good as any other.” He contemplated her words for a moment.

“Sometimes I think people look at me and think my feelings can’t be hurt” Halsin stilled for a moment “Thank you for your words. I appreciate them greatly.” She shot him a smile as the elf picked up his utensils again. While he was showing her what to use and how to begin, she listened attentively, asking for clarification a few times. When she leaned over, he could feel her warm breath on his skin. Hastily he cleared his throat and went on to explain.

“For me the vision of what I’ll carve comes when I’m already in the process. But for the first time, it would be a smart choice to already have an idea in mind.” He handed her a piece of wood, which she started turning in her hands over and over again, contemplating. Holding up his own work so he could show her.

“You could start with a spoon if you’d to begin very simple. Or if you would rather enjoy something artistic I could show you a fox or a bi-”

“A Bear.” Taken aback, Halsin looked over to her. She did not falter, as she continued. “It is you who is showing me how to do it, no? I met you as a bear the very first time. And …” She hesitated. “You do inspire me, you know? So, I would like to do a bear.”

By Silvanus, the bear would like to do you , he thought. Alone the notion that she was inspired by him of all people. Did she even know how extraordinary she was? But that was a thought he would keep to himself. So instead he said: “A Bear it is then.”

He showed her the outlines of the piece and what she would have to expect, while she was whittling. Soon they both worked in silence, elbows touching every now and then. Halsin sneaked a glance at her face: She made her focused face again, eyes solely on the wood in her hand, crouching over it, trying to find the best position for her blade. The tall elf chuckled and looked at his work again. His wooden bird came along just fine. The upper side of the outstretched wings was already apparent with its head thrown towards the sky, beak open as if right in the middle of a song. He wondered if he should carve the legs to be standing solidly on the ground or rather ready to set to the sky, when Galel came to them, asking for support on “urgent matters”.

“Thank you for your time.” came her voice from next to him. She gently brushed the shavings from her legs before standing up. “Will keep showing me how to whittle? I had a lot of fun,” her eyes held a cheeky twinkle “even if some people will call me boring now.”

With a short laugh he responded: “Well I hope you do well to know that you can be boring with me anytime.”

“Well. Until we meet here again, to be boring together.” She cackled and waved him goodbye, walking alongside the talking wizard. As Halsin watched her leave, he wondered why his chest was so tight again.

Sighing, he gathered the wood chips on one pile, cradling the rough wood between his big hands before discarding it.

It was not that he wanted to harbor her for himself. Far from it. She was a beacon of light in these dark times, one that everyone was sure to enjoy having around. And she seemed to like the company of her friends so much. But still his heart betrayed him. He would have loved to sit alone with her a moment longer, her light breathing next to him and their skin touching gently. Maybe she would lean over again, so he could smell her hair. In the short moments when the wind blew just right, her smell carried over to him: fire and berries. He wondered how she managed to smell like that. Maybe he would have asked her about it. Maye she she would have accidentally brushed his hand and he would have gathered his courage, reaching for it, holding it tight. A shudder ran through him. Maybe it was better that she left. He wondered how much longer desire in him would have stayed silent, when it wanted nothing more than to hear her breath coming quicker, tasting the sweetness of her skin, telling him that she needed him like a song- He shushed himself, swatting at his thoughts like they were flies. He picked up the wood she left for the next time. Weighing it in his hands, he looked at it. A Bear she wanted to whittle. He chuckled sadly. As if she had not been whittling away at his guard for such a long time.

Whilst on their way to Baldurs Gate, she came to his tent every evening and they calmly whittled away. Most of the time, both of them sat in silence. But sometimes they would share a few words, talking about their interests and stories, sharing comfort in their presence. One quit evening, when the others were gathering some supplies on the road, leaving the camp in a state of unusual calm, she opened up to him about her insecurities. Telling him about her experience as the group leader, comparing it to her wildly different life before.

In the spur of the moment Halsin asked her if she wanted to go back after this was all done. The whittling stopped, while her brow furrowed. For a second he was afraid that he overstepped. Was ist too personal? Did it bring up troubling memories for her?

But she laid her hand on his arm and found his gaze. “Actually I prefer it now. Even in these dire times.,” in her eyes a sudden bitterness pooled. ”I got all of you now, after all. That is more than I had before.” As her gaze shifted towards her workpiece again, Halsin noticed her hand lingering on his skin before pulling away to adjust her grip on the wood. The spot on his skin her hand had rested upon, felt empty now. He turned his head towards his own project again, not wanting to inquiry any further.

It was peaceful for a few days. So peaceful that he nearly forgot all the horrors that the world entails. Soon they reached Rivington. Their excitement for the city had already turned to anxiety as they reached the city gates, being denied entry as all the refugees were. For Halsin this Situation was unbearable. Seeing all these people in little makeshift tents, sleeping on the cold hard floor, having barely enough food to feed all the children. hated the city for its uncaring nature. Seeing all of the city's misdeeds he wondered if they felt any shame at all. All this time he held himself to such high standards, as he tried again and again to be deserving of the title as Archdruid. The leaders of this city could leave a legion to starve right before the city gates and be praised for it.

Since they took Yenna into their camp, he tried his best to keep his composure. The young girl was already scared enough and did not need to see the adults around her losing their nerves too. So he tried his very best to appear calm and collected, while a storm raged under his skin, growing stronger every day. One hungry face at a time.

The final breaking point approached in front of the circus gates. Halsin had seen the posters advertising the circus time and time again. A clown they all seemed to be excited for. Telling him about the jokes he would tell and all the attractions that could be seen. He did not truly understand the concept of that yet but he was willing to try, if the group decided to visit.

But in a cruel twist of fate, it seemed they did not need to go to the circus but rather it came to them. When it started to dawn, his group decided to pack up for the night, making their way down the roads of Rivington. A rather big crowd had formed cheering a sturdy human man on as he cracked his whip, forcing the animals to dance on small stands, as a middle aged woman played a fast song on a wooden flute. His blood ran hot through his veins as anger seemed to swallow him whole. He could feel the bear in him stir, ready to attack and tear the flesh of this disgusting person's bones. The noise around him made him nauseous. Halsin didn’t know why the fighting started. One moment he was thinking about ripping and screaming and the other he saw his songbird emerge from the crowd, weapon in hand, fighting a cloaked figure. Jumping forth as fur emerged from his skin, he did not care who started it at all. He was glad for the fight.

After the battle was won, Halisin stayed as a bear, wishing for the comfort this shape brought him. His strong body shifting on his paws, every smell more intense but also his mind quieted a little. Everything seemed more manageable like this. But now even as a bear his heart pounded and his breathing did not seem to slow. As Halsin stood still, he noticed that his body was shaking like leafs in the wind, the memories of long bygone times whispering in his mind, demanding to be seen, no matter how much he seemed to push them away. He growled and made his way back to camp with the others. He needed to be away from everything for a while. No one should see him losing control like that.

He did not care what looks he became as he nearly ran through camp, ignoring his name being shouted. There were only his feet, pounding on the ground, coming quicker with every moment until he was sprinting into the first spot of trees he could see, not stopping until his feet reached water. The Lake. Exhaling he pressed his snout into the water only coming up for air when he felt like his lungs were about to explode. He did not want to be alone like this. But also he could not go back, have them ask questions about why. Especially when he did not seem to know either.

A thump behind him alerted him prompting his muscles to tense on instinct. He sprung around, jaws open to expose his sharp teeth. She stopped in her tracks, carefully holding up her hands.

“Halsin? Do you need help? Are you hurt?” Her voice was gentle but Halsin detected an urgency behind it. Looking for a reaction, she slowly stepped close to him, kneeling down an arms length away, her right hand outstretched towards him and stilled. Uncertain his eyes flickered between her and the trees. The light had already vanished, casting her silhouette in blue and gray hues, as she silently waited for him to breach the distance. He realized that she was leaving him the choice: To either come to her or run away if he felt the need.

Desperation clawed at him. Why did he even hold back? What was it good for in the end? She was here now, offering comfort. He would be a fool to deny her. So he took the last step towards her and laid his face into her hand. A sigh escaped her lips, that he could only describe as relieved. Soon enough her fingers started carefully stroking him. Minutes passed, his breathing coming slightly slower than before, his mind gradually clearing from the fog of panic he was lost in.

“Oh my sweet friend.” she whispered, her steady voice not much about a whisper. Her right hand was still on the side of his face, gently caressing him. He did not want to bear the burden anymore, to shoulder it all alone. All the memories of hardship and loss, the memory of himself sitting behind cold and rotting Goblinbars and, before that, behind a closed bedroom door, his eyes tracing the pattern of the carvings on the door time and time again until they burned themselves behind his closed eyes.

It broke him when he saw the eyes of the animals. He knew the look all too well.Some of them had no hope of escaping anymore. Those who did looked like they paid greatly for their resistance: Time and time again under the cruelty of their so called masters. One day even those who held on the longest would give in. They would become the broken puppets the Circus desired. Their fur dulled, their scales spotty. Dancing to some people's badly played lute. Carving patterns into the iron rods. He could have sworn that they would carve and carve like he did-

Halin shuddered and pulled his fangs back. If he would not be in his bear form already, it surely would have been broken free by now. He could taste the blood in his mouth, could free it dripping down on the cold forest floor. Halsin wanted to pull back. He did not want her to see him like this, afraid and grappling for control. He felt his trembling in the trees around them.

When her other hand appeared on his head, he finally looked up. His eyes adjusted in the dark to really look at her. After the fight, she had thrown the upper half of her armor away and traded it for a dirty shirt which by now had been stained with no small amount of blood. With her arms outstretched towards him, he was able to see the smears and stains that appeared blue and purple on her skin and hair. Blood both from her own wounds and those inflicted on others were running over her skin like a river delta. Even though she smelled like blood and sweat and leather, the wind carried the faintest whiff of berries- It startled him. After all this her hair still smelled like herself. It was absurd.

Halsin wondered if he began imagining things. Nevertheless, his tension eased a bit as he allowed himself to step an inch closer, nostrils flared. She smelled lovely, more now than ever.

“Let me help you. My gentle bear, let me heal your wounds.” She whispered again, her hands stroking his fur, beckoning him closer.

My Bear, she had said. If his mind had been clearer, he would have asked her about it. But right now Halsin gave in and pressed his head even harder into her hands. He did not want to think anymore. He wanted to relax into her warm touch and forget.

She pulled him close, guiding his head onto her lap, as she sat on the stained earth below them. Halsin let himself fall to the floor, his strained limbs protesting. The Bear groaned as he adjusted himself to laying on the floor, without bothering his wounds too much. As soon as he stilled, one of her hands started to caress his neck, the other gently touching his snout. It had stopped dripping blood, but he tasted it still on his tongue. He winced again, wishing to wash the foul smell of these people away.

"Shhh." She hummed “ It’s alright. You’re alright. Let me take care of you.” Her hands suddenly stilled. “Can you show me where you are hurt?”

In my heart he wanted to say. But the bear was not able to speak and he was glad for it, his treacherous thoughts would not reach her ear. Instead he forced himself to turn himself on his side, so she could see his stomach. His already dark fur was clumped with strands of blood and dirt, in the night it seemed to be almost black. When he had pushed himself on his hindlegs to strike at his opponents, his soft underpart was exposed just long enough to strike him.

In the darkness she reached over, her hand already glowing. Bowing her head onto his, her forehead silently connecting with him, she whispered sweet nothings into his ear. Halsin felt her magic on his body as it encouraged flesh to mend and skin to heal. To him her energy felt like hope in new beginnings. Like the soaring of wings. It felt like being home again. Almost felt like the relief he felt after they saved Thaniel. She truly was his sun, with the way her entire being seemed to emit warm light, his beacon that guided him through the darkest of times. Everywhere she went, it felt summer had begun anew.

Only moments passed until his body was healed, but her hands stayed on his fur long after it. Several minutes went by in silence, with only their breathing filling the space between them. After a while she groaned and repositioned her leg, wincing. Guilt exploded in his chest as he looked up, slightly pulling away from her, reading her expression. She gave him a tired smile, bloodied lips stretching to reveal her dimples. Halsin realized how exhausted she really looked, not only from the battle but rather carrying the weariness of all the weeks in her eyes. And still she went to care for him, before all others.

Halsin wanted nothing more than to keep her to himself, to shield her from all her sorrows and to be held by her in return: To find comfort in each other. The desire to hold her tight seemed to burn through his chest, gnawing his way up until he felt like he could choke. Who was he to ask anything of her? He tried pulling away from her completely, but her hand on his back tightened

“Don’t go away. Please. I don’t want… “ She trailed off. Halsin saw a flicker of anxiety on her face. “Stay, please. Just for a moment.”

She let go, stretching her arms out wide in front of him. An Invitation. Halsin noticed that her eyes held the same request, like the day she asked him to dance and like so many nights before It would only take him so little to accept. He forced himself to push his worry down, as the Bear pushed his head into her hand. In an instant she pulled him close into her chest, pressing her face into his fur. The bear inhaled sharply as her arms tightened around him in a silent plea. It felt like she tried to wrap her entire body around him. Carefully he lifted one of his blood-soaked paws and wrapped himself around her, gently pulling her into his chest. Now she nearly laid on him, her body rising and falling quickly with his ragged breath. It still was very fast.

As if reading his thoughts she murmured: “Breathe with me.” Pushing himself back on his hind legs, he pulled her even further onto him, which earned him a soft laugh from her, and rested his head carefully on her back, observing her steady breathing. Trying to detect a pattern, he started to exhale and inhale in rhythm with her, his heart slowing down little by little. Relief washed over him, gentle but strong, like an ocean wave that came upon the shore. A part of him wondered if she knew how much this calmed him, breathing together as the gentle night breeze carried it away.

Hasin felt her hand begin to draw patterns on his chest, trying to untangle the knots in his fur whenever her fingers catched a particularly bad one and finally closed his eyes. Nothing could coax him away from this moment, having her in his arms, her warmth seeping into his fur, holding a light within him that kept his sorrows at bay. If the world would have ended in this moment, he would not care for it.

After what felt like hours of peaceful silence, he felt her stir again. She hesitated for a moment but then turned her mouth towards his ear and spoke.

Halsin felt like his heart wanted to explode in his chest. Warmth began spreading in his body, sending a pleasant feeling into his exhausted body. My bear. The first time he heard the word could have been a mistake on his part, born of wishful thinking and the blood flowing from his wounds. But she said it again. And again. My bear. Oh to be hers indeed.

Halsin wished her to hold him like this every night, have her close, let her stroke his hair and tell him that there is nothing to worry about, like a prayer that only he could hear. To have her say that he is safe with her again and again until he started believing it again. And he would swear to her that she is safe with him, promising it with every breath, kissing it into her skin. He would be pulling her in his arms softly as either elf or bear. Holding her and letting himself be held. Feeling her body against his, shielding her from harm. Halsin desperately wanted to worship her every inch, calling her all the wondrous things he could think of.

Showing her how much he needed her in any way possible, hearing her scream his name into the night, her moans just as beautiful as her songs. He longed to leave his mark upon her skin, to show everyone how desired she was, for nature had made her so very beautiful, inside and out. If she did not know by then that she was like the sweetest honey to him, he would make sure she knew every day and night.

He scolded himself for being selfish. But her words, the way she called him mine; he wondered if there was any possibility she could return his feelings after all. That she felt the same way he did, when she gazed at him. Why else would she call him my bear? But uncertainty rang loudly in his ears. What would he do, if he was wrong about it? She called the others my friend and some even sweetheart. What if he misunderstood her intentions and she left him, disgusted by his brazen words? No, disgusted by him.

Then he would never be able to look at himself again. Only imagining that she could sneer at him and turn away hurt him beyond comprehension.

Tonight he could not muster the strength. Too sweet was her embrace, too comforting her words. And he was so tired of pretending he possessed strength that had left him years ago.

Nestling even further into her skin, he savored every second. He just wanted to breathe in her scent and pretend that his feelings were returned. Pretend that he was wanted the same way like he wanted her. Pretend that there were better days to come for him, where he could be himself with her. Building a safehouse for everyone who needed it so that no one would ever fear for their lives again. He imagined never carrying so much weight again. But those were far away dreams. No, tonight Halsin could not shoulder the dark shroud of reality. Instead he vowed to ask her about it, to finally ask her if she felt the same. Tomorrow.

If he only knew, how much she yearned to do the same.

#bg3 #halsin #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate halsin #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin silverbough #halsin fanfiction #tav #honestly i had issues with my Tav at the beginning but she grew on me so quickly #The song options for her camp ballad are either Dream a little Dream of me or Down by the River #Still unsure #Maybe ill write a fic about that too but with her name and more fleshed out backstory

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informalcrybaby · 1 year

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Clever Girl (Harwin Strong x OC) (Part 3)

Summary: Lyra and Harwin meet again at the tourney.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here is the next part in the “Clever Girl” series, I hope you like it! As someone with three brothers of my very own, I think this reflects how they always seem to contribute to things not going to plan. Thanks a ton for the likes and messages!

Lyra’s father often commented that her curiosity would most likely be the cause of her demise and even in death, she would find herself lurking around corners in the afterlife to spy on the Gods. So, it came as no surprise that after their tent and possessions were situated, Lyra stole away into the bustling crowds to explore her lively new surroundings.

She was dressed simply in the colors of her house, a gown of emerald, green held together with deep copper stitching. Her fiery red hair hung how she preferred it, loosely and unconfined. As she weaved through the throng of chattering people, her eyes scanned each of their faces, searching for the pair of blue eyes that made her heart float. Fifteen minutes passed and she praised her sense of direction, for at the edge of the encampment, stood the Strong tent.

Nobody milled about outside or sat on the lonely pine benches in front of a freshly laid firepit. From her vantage point behind the nearest tree, she strained her eyes, trying desperately to see even the slightest of movements through the gap the tents flap provided. After several breathes, a sudden realization struck her. Was she no better than a common lurker? What would Ser Harwin, or worse his father, think if they were to catch her peering into their temporary quarters? Mortified at the idea of being discovered, Lyra slowly stepped back from the tree to begin her escape. Her boots crunched out three steps before hitting something…or someone solid.

Warm breath crested the top of her head as her hand instinctively went to hover over the dagger concealed in the simple belt encircling her waist. A large, tanned hand laid itself on hers before the dagger could be freed.

“We meet again Lady Cutthroat,” The most delightful baritone uttered from behind her, the owner of who’s hand still laid on her own, “But I do believe I am in possession of the upper hand this time.”

Harwin’s words stole all breathe from her lungs and lit her body aflame with a heat that both terrified and delighted her. At every point where their bodies touched, the flames burned harder and as if she were a Targaryen, she felt herself sinking deeper into the fire. Harwin made a noise deep in his throat and spun her to face him.

“It seems that I have been bested.” She whispered breathlessly, taking in the features she had only dreamed of for months. Gods, he was the most magnificent things she had ever witnessed.

“Our score is even then.”

“So, it seems.” Lyra’s eyes bore into his, the world around then blurring.

“May I ask what you’re doing lurking outside my tent, Lyra?” He asked, a mischievous smile curled his luxurious lips, her name dripping from them like honey. When he spoke her name, like a delicacy, she ignited with the need to know what it tasted like.

“I came bearing orders to assassinate you.”

“Who wishes me dead?” He challenged playfully.

“A good assassin kills themselves when facing interrogation.” Lyra smirked as Harwin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and then melted as he laughed heartily.

“Clever girl, I would rather perish than watch you fall on your own sword.”

No words passed between them when Lyra realized that he still held her hand in his own. She tensed, unused to the feeling of a man that wasn’t family’s hands on her. Feeling her sudden shift, Harwin gently stroked his thumb over the tops of her fingers. What would it feel like to have those hands elsewhere? She wondered and from the look on his face, she felt he was thinking the same thing.

“Lyra!” Bastion’s cry broke her from her lust filled trance. Dropping her hand from Harwin’s grasp, she spun, eyes zeroing in on her brother.

Two tents over, Bash hung in the air, suspended by the hand of a very angry man, fist buried in the back of the young boy’s tunic. His nose dripping with fresh blood. The world became a canvas, and its artist chose to paint all in crimson. Gathering her skirts in her shaking hand, Lyra stormed across the earth, dodging all that stood in her way until she was within a foot of the man who thought he had the right to lay even a finger on her kin.

“Release him now or I will not hesitate to bury my knife in your thick skull!” She seethed, baring her teeth, and not hesitating to drop her hand to her belt, unsheathing a sliver of her dagger to show the man she wasn’t one to utter false threats.

“Silence girl,” He growled, shaking a terrified Bash, “The boy tried to steal from me, and I will take what is owed for thievery.”

“I just wanted to see his sword Lyra,” Bash squeaked, his face taking on a slight blue hue from his restricted flow of air, “Please believe me!”

Fresh tears fell from his eyes, falling to mix with the blood gushing from his nose. Even if he had attempted to steal, Lyra would not allow physical harm to go unanswered. With a steady breathe, acknowledging what she was about to do, she readied herself for her attack but just as she started forward, a hand reached out from behind her and before she could protest, she was staring at Harwin’s back.

“Release the boy Edmund,” Harwin ordered lowly and when he didn’t immediately comply, he growled out, “NOW!”

Edmund released Bash, who fell to the ground with a thump and gasped for the breathes he had been robbed of. Rounding Harwin, she fell to the ground by her brother, taking his face in her hands.

“The boy tried to steal from me!” Edmund accused; finger crooked accusingly to the crumpled boy.

“Hold your tongue!” Harwin shouted back, stepping forward until the two men were nose to nose.

“You don’t under--“Edmund was cut off by Harwin’s next statement.

“That boy is of noble blood and will not be treated as a common thief, no matter the trespass you believe he committed.”

“But the little rat tr—” Edmund tired again but was denied for a second time.

“Silence!” Harwin roared, causing Lyra to shutter, “I will hear no more from you about a boy who hardly reaches your hip.”

The two men remained in each other’s faces for a heartbeat longer, Harwin’s blazing eyes shooting daggers into Edmunds. Finally, Edmund turned and stalked through the opening in his tent. When Harwin calmed enough to address the siblings, a warmth spread through his chest at Lyra’s sisterly ministrations.

“There we go,” She whispered calmly, encouraging the boy the hold the piece of cloth she had ripped from her sleeve to his nose, “Hold tight and the bleeding will stop soon silly boy.”

“I’m ok Lyra,” He grumbled, attempting to preserve any remaining dignity, “Can we go back to our tent now?”

The crowd that had gathered slowly began to taper off, but a few prying eyes still lingered. Bash didn’t seem to care about them though, for he was only focused on Harwin, who stood sentinel over the pair. Sensing her brother’s discomfort, she lifted herself from the ground and tried not to laugh as the boy ignored her helpful hand. He struggled for a moment, with only one hand to lift himself, but eventually was able to do the same. To the boy’s dismay, she still placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“Thank you, Ser Harwin but it would seem, with that show, our score is now uneven.” Lyra mused.

“The tourney has just begun, Lady Lyra, I’m sure you will find an advantage somewhere.” Harwin replied, tipping his head to the pair and cursing her horribly interruptive family internally.

“Count on it.” She smiled demurely before tightening her hold on her troublesome brother and turning to disappear into the crowd.

“Goodluck in the games Ser Harwin!” Bastion yelled over his shoulder, a feral smile accompanying his words.

Harwin stood in place, watching them walk away until her fiery hair completely disappeared. He knew it was improper, savage even, but he knew he had to get her alone. He just had to figure out how.

#harwin x oc #harwin strong #slow burn #annoying brothers #house of the dragon #@evyiione #@ephemeralninon

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knightprincess · 11 months

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Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) Part 12

Words: 1.2K Warning: None

To say the battles for Anaxes had been a losing effort would be an understatement. No matter what they did, every plan, every out-of-the-ordinary tactic, Admiral Trench always seemed to have the upper hand, always seemed to have a response ready, and always seemed to be prepared for every scenario. Despite the vast knowledge the three generals had and the experience their troopers had, they still seemed to be on the losing end. As if the Admiral had a secret weapon he was deploying against them. Rex and Cody had come up with a possible answer, but neither was sure it was the right one. Just as the Captain of the 501st, was yet to share a theory that had been plaguing his thoughts since arriving on Anaxes rotations prior.

(Y/N) had been distracted, to say the least. If she wasn't tending to the troopers injured in the never-ending battles for the planet, then she was focusing on clearing Fives' name. The self-given mission, seemingly became an obsession, to the point she barely focused on anything else outside of work. Although she had been thankful to finally be away from Octavius, at least for the time being. Even more so when things had gotten even more unbearable with Isolde now gaining employment within the GAR. Although her specific role wasn't known to Snap.

"Something bothering you Rex?" asked (Y/N), noticing Rex was hovering near the entrance to her specific wing of the medbay. At first, she thought it was just a coincidence, Kix's wing was across from hers. But soon thought otherwise upon noticing Rex would appear when Kix wasn't there. "You keep coming to visit but never seem to get passed the threshold" commented the civvi medic, a friendly smile upon her lips, but just like every other time it didn't reach her eyes. Anyone who knew Snap knew the war had taken its toll on her, although she tried so hard not to show it.

"Just wanted to check up on you" lied Rex, his honey eyes shining with innocence, as he reached to rub the back of his neck out of nerves. What was worse for the captain of the 501st, was he knew (Y/N) knew he was lying, yet she didn't voice it, instead she offered a simple nod, as she patiently waited for him to find the courage to tell her the truth. "I have a theory about Admiral Trench, but I don't think the General's will take it seriously" started the great Captain, knowing if anyone was going to take his words seriously, it was (Y/N), despite her brokenness she still helped those who needed it and offered her advice when asked.

"You've piqued my interest" admitted (Y/N), moving from behind her desk, stepping closer to the man she trusted with her life. With a sigh, and a mental talking to, Rex directed Snap to take a seat at the end of one of the examination tables, ensuring she was prepared for what he was about to share with her. The theory he'd yet to gain the confidence to share with anyone else.

"ithinkechoisalive" stated Rex, his words jumbling together becoming a mumbled mess of an intelligible language. Swiping a hand through his buzzed blonde hair, Rex tried to find his bearings again, being surprised when (Y/N) gently took hold of his hand, as if to soothe his racing mind and reassure him, she wouldn't judge him for his theory, no matter how out there it was. "I think Echo is alive" repeated the great Captain, watching as (Y/N)'s eyes widened, as the words he shared with her sunk in. "The clankers are using my tactics, the plans they're using were known only to one other person. They were the ones I made with Echo" explained Rex, placing a hand on Snap's shoulder when she began to stare into space.

"After all this time" whispered (Y/N), tears stinging the corner of her eyes. "Does anyone else know?" asked Snap, turning her attention to her close friend mere seconds later. Looking into his honey eyes, as if trying to determine if this was a beautiful dream or the cold reality both lived. Rex could only shake his head in response, displaying his trust in her.

"I have a meeting with the generals this afternoon. Cody will be there too. I'm debating whether to tell them then" admitted Rex, although he strongly suspect neither of the Generals would believe him, at least not without some sort of evidence. "How's your search going?" asked Rex in an attempt to change the subject and settle his own curiosity. He knew Wolffe was somehow involved in her research, the battle-worn commander had agreed to something the last time they shared the same battlefield. Although neither had mentioned what it was. Nor had Snap shared her research with anyone else, even when Kix was seemingly on the same path as her.

"He was right about something Rex. I just don't know which bit" admitted (Y/N), like Rex, she figured none of the Jedi Generals would believe her, they had ignored Fives' and there was no doubt the majority would ignore her too. Although Wolffe had convinced her to inform his own Jedi General of the findings, reassure her he would hear her out and keep an open mind.

"Maybe we can figure it out together" offered the great captain, turning upon hearing the door to the medbay slide open. Cody entered the moment the gap was wide enough. "Time for the meeting," asked Rex, seemingly surprised time had flown by, the last he checked he had hours to wait. He soon figured he'd been hovering outside the medbay, far longer than he initially thought.

"Hey, Snap" greeted Cody, as if he was greeting a younger sibling rather than a friend. At the same time, he nodded to Rex's question. "The boys miss you, lost count how many times one of them announced they were transferring to the 501st" joked the Commander of the 212th, not failing in bringing a small smile to (Y/N)'s lips, taking notice of how her smile seemed a little brighter this time. He soon made a mental note to question Rex, suspecting the captain had something to do with it. "The generals are expecting us. Windu doesn't seem too pleased with the latest loss. The 187th took a beating" voiced Cody, revealing the latest loss had been delivered to the most experienced Jedi General on base.

"Follow your gut when it comes to your theory Rex. From experience, you're normally right when you listen to it" advised Snap, giving Rex a gentle pat on the shoulder before hugging both men and sending them on their way. Cody sent Rex a look of confusion, but suspecting he'd be clued in soon enough. Plus Snap was right. When Rex listened to his gut, he was never wrong. A trait that all battle warn troopers seemed to possess. A trait that only grew stronger the longer the war stretched on. Cody could only grin though, if the mission he had in mind was approved, the unorthodox commando unit would be called in. The small group that had taken a liking to Snap, like many clones before them had.

Masterlist

#echo x medic reader #forgive me (echo x medic reader)#part 12 #commander cody #captain rex #anaxes #fem! medic reader #medic reader #clone wars season 7 #cross posted on AO3 #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on quotev #i promise echo will return #battle of anaxes

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silvanils · 1 year

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I was tagged by @melisusthewee to share fics I’ve been working on recently! Alas, I’ve still been struggling with burn-out, so I wanted to wait for creator reveals for the DA Poly Exchange to go live so I could include the stuff I created for that - I’m really happy with those works!

1. call me by my name (Rating: E)

The Marquis cut his way through the Horned Knight's bramble-maze to rescue his Bard. Now, he is desperate to keep him.

(Inspired by a da drunk writing circle prompt.)

* There are simply not enough fics for the Last Court. The detail I had the most fun working into this fic is the gradual shift into use of True Names, even within the Marquis’ own head.

2. Corner of the Sky (Rating: T)

The year is 9:46 Dragon. Kieran has been staying in Denerim for months, now, but he still does not feel welcome despite all of King Alistair's efforts. It has also become increasingly clear to anyone with eyes that the boy is not a simple ward: he is Alistair's son, and may well be the King's only heir. As a celebration in Redcliffe for Ferelden's heroes draws closer, the rumors only grow louder. Kieran shies away from the attention, good or ill, but...

What he truly wants may yet surprise even him.

* This is still a work in progress. I really love writing about the dynamics of Kieran’s relationships with King Alistair, the Ferelden nobility, and the city elves.

3. no rolling eyes, no irony (Rating: E)

Quinn Trevelyan has been keeping a secret from those closest to him. They find out just in time to do something about it.

(Written for the DA Poly Exchange.)

* I just adore Quinn. He was so fun to write, and I just HAD to do something with the idea of him lying to everyone to hide his true birthday...

4. That Which Endures (Rating: T)

They converge by chance within the Crossroads, three remnants of a bygone time. Perhaps Felassan and Tiralin can guide Abelas on this strange new path?

(Written for the DA Poly Exchange.)

* I love the concept of Ancient Elves navigating the current era, and the idea of a person’s “Purpose.” (I have a feeling this fic is just the start of something new I need to explore further...)

5. When Shadows Wake (Rating: M)

A new thief in Riften hopes to shake things up and earn some coin, but shadows loom on the horizon. Assassins, bears, civil war, dragons... Eira has an ace or two up her sleeve, but is she a match for Maven Black-Briar, whose honeyed words drip with poison?

(A Thieves Guild centric story that also deals with the Dragon Crisis, the Thalmor, and Skyrim's politics.)

* I’ve been slowly working on more chapters of this story, so! Look forward to some updates soon? I still adore my Skyrim characters. This fic in particular is also my attempt to have the questlines interact more with each other and have over-arching repercussions.

#;knight speaks #;tagged

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spacecadetspe · 1 month

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A snippet from last year…

Apr. 3, 2023

It feels like everything came together properly last night.

Had a great cathartic cry in the morning, had a home-cooked breakfast, went to the fair with my two favorite people in the world, took W back to his father, then went home and made ceviche and southwestern-style potatoes and watched anime with Fortitude until bedtime.

And then we got to work. The Forge has been repaired. I called Zoe, Phobetor, and Morpheus, and then called Patience's star, Amitabha, to meet us with his associates at Muspelheim.

The Captain of Surtr's Guard met me in a crushing hug and swung me around like a ragdoll (I do love the Jotnar so!) and led us into the Forge. After awhile, he murmured that we were getting close to Patience's cell.

"How can you tell?" Morpheus asked.

I rubbed my jaw. "It makes me want to clench my teeth," I replied.

The Captain nodded. "The gravity has changed."

Morpheus hummed and gestured at me. "I must be spending too much time around her; I can hardly feel it."

"It's not pleasant," I mumbled.

Patience's cell has a door four layers thick, with warding on top. Nobody was taking any chances with him, and that's fair. The menfolk all looked at me to make sure I wouldn't need an escort, but I knew I could do this on my own. The Captain let me in, and then warded the door behind me.

Patience and C were both curled up in the far corner of the room, and glared daggers at me when I entered.

"What do you want?" he growled.

I got straight to the point. "Father wants to know if you're still set on being the Virtue of Patience."

He raised his head a bit. "Why would that be a concern?"

I threw up my hands. "I don't know, John," I said, using his human name. "Maybe because you're at sixty wings and you haven't leveled up in awhile. You've been waffling so long He's not sure you're a good fit."

He finally turned his glare away. "It wasn't the most pressing thing at the time."

"Your identity isn't the most important thing?" I asked, rhetorically. "And you seriously wonder why he's testing you?"

C picked her head up. "All this was a fucking test?" she asked.

"That's the rumor."

"But why did it have to be me?" she cried.

I countered easily. "Your patron is the embodiment of death, honey. Did you think he was going to make an exception for you when it came to doing his job? And I know you didn't think to ask him about what you could learn from this, did you?"

A low, matter-of-fact voice spoke up. "Did you think it was only just you?" I turned and saw Thanatos leaned against the opposite corner of the room from them, to my left. "Shall I show you all the women and children who've lost their lives over the eons because they miscarried?"

C lowered her head. "I'd... rather you didn't."

"I figured," he said with a nod. "But you're acting like you're alone in this, and you're pushing away any attempt at comfort or camaraderie."

I folded my arms. "I saved your husband's soul three times. And you want to push away all Hope because you wanted to be mad and blame someone else for what happened to you. Every olive branch I have extended got slapped back in my face. It's come to the point where Sinmara out there has had to patch me up twice because of all the betrayals I've gone through." I lifted my shirt to show them the glowing runic stitches on my abdomen. "You might be the heart of the universe, C, but you are still just one person. And you're affecting billions of people because you can't stop hiding behind your own trauma." I cocked my head. "Not the smartest choice you could've made. But you know what?" I dropped my hands. "Fine. This is the last time I save your ass."

Patience snorted. "Why do you care?"

I paused, mostly for effect. "I have loved you since the day we met," I said. "I have always cared, and I've never stopped. Not even when I have my own shit to deal with. It never occurred to you that I didn't want you to bear my burdens, did it? It didn't occur to you that running the Dream World is nobody's picnic, and I'm doing that mostly on my own. You get all the fun reports of my adventures, but I don't tell you about the breakdowns, the revolutions, the rebellions, and the nastiness I have to put up with. And by the way, even though I've saved your ass three times, I have never had flaming debris raining down on two of the worlds I supervise because that's how destructive you got!"

I took a breath, and Thanatos patted my shoulder.

Finally, I let my shoulder relax. "So... I'll give you until the end of the year. Then I'll need to see if you're still Virtue material."

"And what if I'm not?" he asked

I shrugged. "That's fine. That's your choice. We'll find someone else to fill the role."

Patience looked at C. "But... she's my wife."

I shrugged again. "So? You're not guiding her. You're not letting any of your guides help you. If you're not going to do it, someone else has to pick up the slack."

"Well... what about me?" he stammered.

"It depends," I replied. "We don't have to be friends. But if you stand against me... if you get in my way... if you try to tear down all that I have built..." I lowered my gaze at him. "I will kill you."

"Seems a bit harsh..."

"Harsh?" I yelled. "You destroyed the both the Forge and the infirmary! The occupants of Muspelheim evacuated to the Dream World because of this!" I pressed my hands together. "We were friends once, so I'll ask you only once; do not fall back into depravity, or I will treat you like a threat. I have three hundred wings. You have sixty. You won't stand a ghost of a chance."

And I left them. I nodded to Phobetor and Morpheus to begin, and the Captain shut them in. I'll need to check on them sometime today. I hope they are all right, after that. They were working with at least four astral guides last night. They're probably exhausted.

#mythology and folklore #dreams #spicy psychology #trauma #shadow work #parenting

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prophecy-of-the-black-sun · 4 months

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Alright, so is I FINNALY finished chapter Inez so here it is with some updated character art 👍🫂

Chapter 1:

A New Life

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David rushed down the hall. As he ran through the school hallways, he pulled on the backs of his shoes and fixed his hair, hoping he wouldn’t get written up by teachers nearby. He knew he was late but hoped only to be a few minutes behind. He ran to the door at the end of the hall and pushed it open.

"You're late... again." Mrs. Lemmings checked his name off her attendance list.

"Sorry, my alarm’s broken," David explained, sitting down quietly.

"Still?" She side-eyed him but continued taking names. David looked up at the ceiling, sighing. His last week of senior year. He had dreamed about this day since

"Your alarm again?" Aldric joked, nudging David’s arm.

“Oh jeez, not you too." David rolled his eyes. His best friend since 2nd grade, Aldric, per usual, sat beside him.

“I think that's a new record—only five minutes late this time,” Aldric remarked as David shook his head. Looking away from his friend, Aldric ran his fingers through his thick black hair.

“Will you ever cut that? You're gonna look like a girl!” David joked. Aldric felt his hair again, guiltily. It was decently long, but not to the point where it was girlish.

“you quiet! I’ve had it like this since freshman year; you’re the one who even suggested I grow it out anyways!” he reminded, smirking.

“I’m aware…” David replied, a bit annoyed. They both laughed, soon to be silenced by the teacher. Not a thing could separate them—not a thing in the world.

Before they knew it, the school day was almost over, but for the last time. The next day, they’d say goodbye and be on their merry way. They'd seem like boys who had no idea what to do with the rest of their lives, but people would be wrong to think that. Little did the rest of the world know that they had found property in Alaska, not a hundred miles south of the Arctic Circle, completely secluded from the rest of society. It was cheap—only about $5,000—and inhabited by a small yet sturdy cabin, so it was relatively worthless. But not to these boys. Where others saw bare land surrounded by mountains, they saw an opportunity and a new life for the two of them. These boys had always had the unusual dream of living in the cold, uncharted wilderness. So, at only nineteen years old, these boys had their whole lives nearly figured out.

Graduation came and went. About a day later, Aldric packed up his belongings and waved goodbye to his mother and sister.

“This isn't going to work out, and I know it! Know what? When this dream of yours goes south, don't come crying to me, OK!?” His mother scolded him, holding his little sister's shaking hand.

“You don't know that,” Aldric told her calmly, reaching out his hand. His mother, instead of shaking his hand, slapped him across the face with the back of her palm.

“Save it!” she sneered, pulling his 6-year-old sister inside as she retreated back to the house. His sister waved a frightened goodbye as she was forced back inside, wiping the corners of her eyes and glancing back at him apologetically. Aldric looked back at his mother through the window as he climbed into his car, shaking his head almost in disbelief. As he drove off, his mother screamed out of the open window,

“Don’t come back! You see? This is why-" she continued to scream, but Aldric rolled up his window to drown her out.

“Every time…” He sighed, his eyes squinting in disappointment. He let out a short, shaky breath, holding back tears. His face stung from where she had hit him, and he couldn’t bear to think of what she would have said next.

As he arrived at his friend's house, David also waved goodbye to his parents. However, they waved back instead. His mother wept but smiled and cheered a loving farewell alongside his father. David climbed in, smiling wildly.

“Goodbye, honey! We love you!” His mother called, still waving with tears in her eyes. David smiled, waving back.

"Are you ready?“ he asked, laughing a bit. Aldric stared sadly off into nothingness momentarily, suddenly snapping back to reality to face his friend.

“Oh, yeah!“ he smiled, trying his best to forget his mother's hurtful comment. David looked over at him, confused but still noticing something wrong.

"Was it your mom again? You know what? Don't answer that; I know it was. Well, at least you don't have to see her again. Well, not for a long while at that.“ David reassured him. Aldric looked over to his friend, smiling.

"Thanks," he nodded. He put his hands on the wheel and put his car in drive.

They stopped at a gas station, using some extra money to buy snacks, drinks, a cooler, and ice. After that, they began their long drive from Nevada to Alaska. They took turns driving, a couple hours apart, so the other could sleep, relax, eat, or whatever else. Aldric enjoyed crocheting and got to work on some new socks for the two of them. David, on the other hand, liked to listen to audiobooks. He wasn’t a great reader, so he could sit back and relax without struggling to do the work himself. After about 15 hours of driving, they stopped at a rest area. Moonlight swept the pavement as the car came to a halt.

"oh jeez… We're almost out of gas."Aldric sighed as he put a hand to his forehead. David leaned over to look at the fuel level.

"Oooh," he groaned. “We need to fill up then, huh?“ he replied. David got out of the car and walked over to the rest stop building.

"What are you doing?" Aldric looked over, yawning.

"What do you think I’m doing, mister?” He asked sarcastically, turning back to him, smiling, and shaking his head as he walked in.

About 5 minutes later, Aldric had fueled up his car.

"What in the world is he doing in there?” he asked himself. Just as he said this, David appeared from the building. He appeared to be holding something small in his arms.

"oooh no… What've you got now?” Aldric asked, tilting his head to one side. David giggled, holding up a kitten. The small cat had a white coat littered with striped orange spots.

"c'mon! He’s really healthy!” David exclaimed, a hint of sympathy for the abandoned cat in his tone.

"Oh, come on, David! It probably has fleas; put it down!” Aldric groaned.

"Well, so do you!“ David yelled, trying to convince him. Aldric gasped, taken aback by his friend's statement.

"I do not have fleas!” he yelled back, his face turning a bit red with embarrassment. “That's incredibly rude, you know!?"

"That was the point!” David explained, getting annoyed. He held the kitten close to his chest. “Plus, we can’t leave him completely alone! He might get run over, starve, or—" he stopped himself, getting overwhelmed. Aldric sighed, putting a hand to his temple.

'' Ok…fine,” he admitted. “Don't make me regret this, though!“

" YES! Did you hear that little guy? You’re staying with us!” David smiled, holding the kitten to face him. He jumped up and down in excitement. Aldric let out a sigh. The moon began to retreat to the horizon, and the sun blazed in the distance.

"OK, ok… We better get going." Aldric announced. "I guess I'll drive.”

After driving for a bit, Aldric drove into the pet store parking lot. He looked over at David, handing him a hundred-dollar bill. David's eyes lit up as he grabbed it.

"Really?Thanks, man!" he smiled, laughing a bit. He twisted his hoodie around, putting the kitten in the now-backward hood. He stepped out of the car but stopped as he shut the door. "By the way,” he cleared his throat and gestured to the kitten. "His name is Jasper. You know, because of his orange spots?” He laughed as he finally shut the door.

After about an hour, David emerged from the store with a cart filled with goodies for their new friend. This included a bed, food, bowls, litter, toys, a collar, a leash, treats, and some little sweaters.

"I think I got enough for him. Oh! And I got him tested by one of their professionals. By testing, I mean checking for disease. He’s all clear! Not a single flea, worm, or nothing!” he smiled as he held the cat to Aldric’s sleepy face.

“I take it; I should drive?” he asked, still laughing. Aldric nodded, yawning. They swapped places, with Aldric grabbing a blanket and neck pillow as he climbed into the passenger seat. Jasper stumbled over the center console and into Aldric's lap. The two lay there, both sleeping. David smiled, looking over at them.

"This is a wonderful start. Three boys against the world, huh?" He chuckled as he began the second long day of their drive to Alaska. Finally, these boys could escape from the harsh world that never accepted them. For David, this meant getting away from people. However, for Aldric, it meant spending his life somewhere away from his family. Each was going to spend life with their favorite person on earth. One another.

At about noon, they came to a stop. David shook Aldric's shoulder.

"Hey, wake up,” he whispered, trying not to scare him. Aldric opened his eyes slowly, blinking tiredly.

"Hmmm…?" Aldric looked around, confused. "Oh, yeah, what’s up?” he asked, yawning.

"I found this park; I think we can get some lunch here,” David explained. Jasper stretched, rubbing against Aldric.

"Oh yeah, I saw an ad for this place once," Aldric responded, nodding as he unbuckled. They got out and made their way over to the building nearby. Inside, they found a small cafe.

They sat down at an open booth, picking up the menus on the table.

“I’m getting a sandwich, are you?" David asked, setting down his menu for a moment.

"I think I’m going to get a salad,” Aldric told him, folding up his menu and looking around to see if the waiter was coming. A nice-looking lady wearing a black apron walked around the corner, looking around to see who needed assistance. She spotted the two and quickly made her way over to them.

"Hello, my name is June, and I’ll be your server today. How can I start you guys off?" She asked, pulling out a small notepad and pen.

" oh! Um… I’ll have the Caesar salad,” Aldric told her, smiling politely. June nodded, writing something down.

"And what about you, dear?” She asked, turning to David. David’s face lit up a bit, turning pink.

"I'll have a sandwich." He pulled up his menu, stuttering as he looked at it again. "Ham is fine!” he said, looking back at her. She smiled, giggling a bit as she walked off. As soon as she was out of earshot, Aldric burst out laughing.

" ‘Ooh, I'll have a ham sandwich, my lady~’ “ He teased in a girlish tone, smiling and laughing uncontrollably. David looked at him, his face bright red as he frowned.

"I do not sound like that!” he whispered loudly. Aldric continued to laugh, a broad smile on his face.

"Oh, sure, you sound nothing like that. Whatever, either way, you were totally gushing over her!” Aldric pointed a finger at him, still laughing. David still sat there but covered his face in his palms, attempting to hide his embarrassment. He kicked Aldric from under the table.

"OW!“ he gasped. “dude, ok! Jeez…” He rubbed his leg, biting his lip. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. Aldric reasoned, trying to sound genuine. David nodded.

"You better be!“ he scoffed, turning his head. Aldric sighed and looked around for the waitress. Finally, she came around the corner again, holding two plates.

"Cezar salad and ham sandwich,” she said as she approached their table. Aldric quickly grabbed his food, trying to finish. David sat there for a moment, just looking at him.

"Dude, I'm sorry... I wasn't trying to be that mean. Can you forgive me?“ David pleaded. Aldric nodded, trying his best to smile again.

When they had finished, the waitress came back with the check. David snatched it before Aldic could. He looked down and saw a series of numbers at the bottom. He quickly cupped his hand in his mouth.

"What? What is it? Is it really expensive?“ Aldric asked, looking concerned and straining over the table to look at the bill. David shook his head, showing him the phone number she left for him. Aldric gasped, beginning to laugh and stare at David.

"oh gosh… I mean, you’re not going to call her, though... are you?“ He asked, looking a bit worried.

"What? No… I could never! It wouldn't work; we won’t even have cell service where we're going,” David shook his head. Aldric let out a little sigh, nodding. David looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"what?Jealous?“ He asked, taunting his friend.

"WHAT!?NO-“ He began turning red. “I mean, of course not! That's silly, David."Aldric told him, trying to act like he didn't care about the situation.

"suuuuuuuure…" David looked Aldric up and down, clearly not convinced. He shook his head, trying to think nothing of it. Aldric looked away from David, not entirely wanting to face him. He sat up, grabbed his phone, and looked back at David, waiting for his friend to follow. David noticed this, got out of the booth, and walked outside. On the bill, David left a note. June picked up the check, smiling. But quickly, her grin vanished as she saw what was written.

" ‘On my way to Alaska. Sorry, it wouldn’t work out,’ " She read aloud, her face contorted with confusion. She crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash.

When they got back into the car, David fell asleep almost immediately. Aldric continued to drive down the highway, watching the cars speed past him on the other side. A song came on the radio, one he was quite familiar with. Aldric turned up the volume, nodding his head and drumming his hands on the steering wheel. He hummed along, trying to forget what happened between him and David. He sighed, his smile fading slowly.

"Meeeeow!"Jasper mewed to Aldric as he stumbled over to the seat and into his lap.

"Oh, hey little guy..." he smiled as the small cat snuggled up to him. He scratched Jasper with one hand and steered with the other. Jasper leaned into Aldric's hand, his soft orange spots glowing in the sun. Aldric let out a sigh of relief, feeling a bit better with the kitten lying on his lap.

After about a day and a half, they were halfway to their destination. Arriving in Canada's Nemaiah Valley, they decided to take a break for a walk.

“Seriously, I couldn't pass this up! Look at all this, Aldric!” David remarked, cupping his hand above his eyes so he could see through the blinding sunlight as his eyes swept over the valley.

Aldric seemed a bit preoccupied with his phone but nodded dismissively in reply. He squinted at the screen, seeming confused and annoyed.

“What's up?" David asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Uugh. Nothing, nothing." Aldric waved his hand at his friend, shooing him off. “It's my mom... I’m trying to figure out how to get her to quit messaging me.” He scratched his head, sighing in frustration. Giving up, he threw his phone back in the car through the open window. David laughed, shaking his head. He picked up a backpack, emptied it, and began to line it with blankets on the bottom, making a small cushion.

"Now, what’s that for?" Aldric asked, looking extremely confused.

“This!” David replied as he hoisted Jasper off the seat and into the backpack, leaving the top open for him to breathe and look around. He looked back at Aldric with a cheeky smile.

“Dude, that's stupid! C’mon, he’s going to jump out and lose him," he said sarcastically, giving David a sympathetic look. David shook his head.

"No, he won't! And so what if he does? I’ll just go find him.” He explained, returning an insightful look.

They began their hike through the valley, witnessing nature's beauty like never before. As they walked, they sang songs as the sun beamed onto the open grass. Happily, Jasper mewed along, although he was singing as well. Just as David reassured Aldric, the little cat didn't, in fact, try to escape and settled in nicely. As the sun approached noon, they decided to head back to their car. However, just as they began to walk back, dark clouds began to emerge overhead. Thunder rolled in the distance, and lighting flickered behind them, illuminating the sky with an unwelcoming glow.

"I don't think we’re making it back in time." Aldric hastily remarked as the storm drew near.

"It's fine. We’ll be ok, Aldric,” David reassured, walking a bit faster now. They could almost hear the rain; all the while, booms of thunder and flashes of lightning drew closer. Jasper let out a cautious mew, tucking himself away in the bag. Suddenly, a large strike of lightning hit the ground behind them. It was far away from where they stood, still making an impact on its touchdown. The earth beneath them shook, and a loud crack rang out through the valley. The three exchanged complex glances of fear and realization. Aldric bolted forward, trying to get as far as he could away from the area and back to the safety of their car. On the other hand, David looked behind him to see the damage done by the massive lighting strike. His eyes widened in horror upon seeing a large, flaming tree hit the ground. He also ran much faster than Aldric, in a state of panic. Aldric looked confused, turning back as well. As soon as he saw the damage, he shared the same adrenaline and followed. As the two ran, David tripped on a rock in his panic, falling to the ground and slamming his ribs into the ground's rocky surface. David let out a stifled scream. Aldric looked back, hearing a cry of pain. Seeing that it was his friend, he rushed over to help him. David was on his hands and knees, clutching his ribs with one arm.

"David!" Aldric gasped, kneeling down at his side with wide eyes. David's bleeding nose streamed down his front and a look of intense pain registered on his bruised face.

"These rocks, I swear," he remarked, his lips pressed tightly. He grasped his ribcage, the left side looking damaged. Aldric felt the spot, and David winced as he did so. Jasper, still in the bag on David's back, jumped out, panicking. He launched himself up Aldric's leg and onto his neck, shaking in fear. Aldric helped David up, holding Jasper in one hand.

When they finally returned to their car, they were drenched and dripping from rain. David collapsed into the backseat, hyperventilating. His head swung back, and his eyes were tightly shut to keep tears from forming. His hand stayed on his side, and his shirt was stained red from the wound.

Aldric grabbed his first-aid kit from the trunk, rushing to his friend.

"It's ok… It’s all ok, dude,” he reassured David, looking panicked.

"You look more worried than me." David joked, wincing in pain. Aldric shot him an attempted serious look, opening up the tin box full of medical supplies. He pulled out antibiotic ointment, gauze, disinfectant wipes, and pain relief medications. He shook a couple pills from the bottle into his shaking hand, holding them out to David.

"Here, take these,” he ordered, rummaging through the box all the while. David nodded, swallowing them without hesitation. Aldric wiped down David’s nose, not knowing what to do otherwise. He ripped open the package of gauze, sighing.

“I’m honestly scared to see this," he said, lifting David's shirt slightly. He looked at the bruise, a large cut amongst the sea of black and blue. He wrapped David’s chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding and possibly displaced ribs.

"Well, wasn't that just the greatest hike ever?” David chuckled sarcastically, wincing again in pain. Aldric gave a quick, forced smile, his hands still fumbling with the first aid box.

They both sighed, sitting tiredly in the back of the car. Jasper darted out of the front seat, his fur soaked. The kitten sat between the two, giving a welcoming meow. David smiled at the cat, looking and feeling much better. He looked out the window to see the rain. Somehow, from here, it managed to look beautiful. As the sun set and the moon rose into the sky, they both decided to just rest for the night after the day they had instead of driving through the night as they had previously done. As they both sat there, Aldric placed a blanket over David. As he looked around for another, he sighed in frustration.

"You know what? I think I left the other blankets in the back. He rubbed a hand over his face, clearly too tired to care. He reached behind him, grabbed hold of an old blanket, and settled against the side door. Jasper leaped onto David's lap, purring as he kneaded his paws into the blanket. The two boys gave the kitten a tired laugh as they drifted off to sleep.

Sunlight drifted through the car windows, falling onto Aldric's dark hair. He yawned, sitting up with a stretch. Blinking his eyes open, he looked around. He stepped outside the car, ruffling his still-damp hair. He sighed, climbing back into the front seat and starting the car. Shaken awake by the rumbling engine, Jasper opened a curious eye. Aldric started the second half of their long drive, adjusting the mirror to see David. A soft smile crept up his face, happy to see his friend.

After an hour, Aldric checked the time on his watch.

“Yo, David. It’s 10:00; get up." He announced, reaching one hand back to shake David’s shoulder.

“Huh…?” David yawned, opening his eyes hesitantly. He looked at Aldric, grabbing his hand as he shut his eyes again. Aldric looked at David, confused.

“Five more minutes,” David finally said, shaking Aldric's hand tiredly. Aldric let out a sigh, the questioning look leaving his face.

“No! Get up, sleepy head!” He laughed, shaking David again.

“Aaaaghhh…” David groaned as he pulled himself up, rubbing his eyes. He looks at Jasper, petting him softly. He pulled a can of food from the back, opened it, and set it on the floor for him. The fluffy cat jumped off David’s lap, purring as he munched his breakfast.

“I’ll pull over so you can sit in the front." Aldric started, cutting himself off as David climbed over the center console and into the passenger seat.

“No need,” David smirked, buckling himself in. “So, while he eats, what are we going to have?“ He asked, pulling his phone off the charger. Aldric shrugged.

“Good question," he replied, looking around. “There’s not much around here," Aldric replied. David sighed, reaching under his seat and grabbing their bag of snacks. He handed Aldric a protein bar, grabbing a muffin for himself.

“Here,” he directs, already opening his muffin. The two followed the beaten road for hours, becoming bored quickly.

“How long till we get to Beaver again?" David asked, looking at the car roof for the millionth time.

“We still have 14 hours until we stop again," Aldric explained, sighing with annoyance. He pulled over at a gas station and stepped out.

“I'm getting us lunch. Do you want anything specific?" specific?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at David. David shook his head.

“Nah, I'm good with anything." He answered, laying his head on the car door. David opened the bag by his feet, finding it’s full of clothes. He shivered, pulling out a faded red hoodie.

“I don’t remember having this hoodie…” David remarked as he pulled it over his head. As Aldric returned to the car, opening the door with a squeak, he looked shocked at David.

“Is that my hoodie…?” He asks, squinting. David’s eyes went wide, his face flush with embarrassment.

“This is yours!?” he jumps, cupping his hands over his mouth. Aldric chuckled, handing David a bag from the gas station.

“Mmmhm… I don't mind though, it’s fine,” He reassured his friend, sighing.

“Can you drive? I need to take a nap, I’m not exactly planning on falling asleep at the wheel.” Aldric asked, tilting his head. David nodded, looking confused.

“Of course! How could I refuse,” He smiled, climbing out and stretching his legs. As he sat down in the driver's seat, he looked outside.

“I think we’re almost there, it’s so much colder here than I’m used to…” David remarked, rubbing his arms.

“Yeah, we’ve got about another day…” Aldric said, checking how much longer they had on his phone.

“Yep, 20 hours!” He smiled, showing David.

“Then let’s finish strong!” David urged, putting the car back in drive.

After about five hours, David had become quite bored with the plain, flat scenery surrounding them. All that seemed of interest was the occasional snow-covered dead tree, the gleam of the full moon shining down on them, and the snowy road they drove on. reaching over, he turned on the ratio, but only static rang out, to his discomfort.

“C’mon!” he slammed a hand on the dashboard, accidentally opening the glove box. As it flew open, a small piece of paper slipped out onto the floor. David tilted his head, confused. He slowed the car, reaching by Aldric’s feet to grab it.

“What on earth-” He started, opening the paper. His face fell as he looked down at it, and disappointment filled his eyes. Slamming on the breaks, he turned to Aldric.

“Wha-” Aldric jumped up, still half asleep as he woke up. He blinked slowly, looking around the dark car.

“What’s going on…?” He asked, looking at his friend. He saw the paper, his eyes going wide.

“What’s this!?” David asked, a timid look flooding his face. He forced the billing paper into Aldric's hands, his tone bitter.

“Your mother was making you pay bills? You didn't think you should have told me!? She has plenty of money!” He sneered, taking in a shaky breath. Aldric glared at the paper in his hands, looking away from David.

“I didn’t want you to see this…” He explained, trying to explain himself.

“It’s c-”

“COMPLICATED!? You could have told me!” David slammed his hand on the seat. As he did so, Aldric flinched.

“I'm sorry….” Aldric apologized, his voice hushed. David, realizing what he was saying, stopped.

“Oh my god… what am I saying..?” He hugged Aldric, stifling a sigh. The two sat there, both extremely confused and ashamed.

“I don't know why I'm getting upset, I just think that your mom is… idiotic…” David explained.

As the car was put back in motion, they both tried to loosen back up. Aldric finally turned to his friend, his eyes apologetic.

“You’re right. I should have told you, I just didn’t know how,” He sighed, shoving the paper back into the glove box.

“That was old. She stopped making me pay for things when she finally got that raise.” He smiled, trying to seem genuine.

“I know…I know. You don’t need to apologize, Aldric.” David nodded, brushing his umber hair out of his eyes. His heterochromatic eyes stayed on the road, moonlight shining onto his face.

“How do you look so nice…?” Aldric asked, tilting his head in awe as he looked at David. David looked at Aldric, surprised.

“Who, me?” He asked, laughing to himself.

“Yeah…” Aldric nodded, squinting at his friend. David smirked, glancing at Aldric.

“You flatter me,” He thanked, his tone joking. Aldric, realizing what he had said, looks embarrassed at his words.

“No! I- what I meant was- I-” He threw his hands up, trying to explain.

“Dude, I’m kidding. You're fine,” David laughed, smiling at Aldric. As they continued driving, David rolled down the windows and let the cool night air in. As the two enjoyed the breeze briefly, the car hit a bump. The two jolted up in their seats, caught off guard by the bump in the old road. Aldric laughed nervously, trying to regain his composure. David shook his head, chuckling at the sudden interruption.

They drove in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, enjoying each other's company. The night air was cool against their faces again, and the stars twinkled in the sky above. Finally, David spoke up.

"You know, Aldric, I've been thinking about what you said earlier. About your mom and the bills." Aldric tensed up, unsure of where his friend was going with his words.

"But I want you to know that if you ever need help with anything, you can always talk to me… I'm here for you, man." David looked over at Aldric, sincerity shining in his eyes. Aldric felt reassurance wash over him

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it." He nodded, a smile creeping onto his face.

They drove on, finally seeing lights up ahead. As they approached the small town of Beaver Alsaka, David slowed the car and stopped in the middle of the road. Having the same idea, they both jumped out of the car in front of a sign that read,’ WELCOME TO BEAVER ’. They jumped up and down, hugging each other.

“AH!” David yelled in excitement, smiling wildly. Aldric chuckled, weakly hugging his friend back.

The two finally got back into the car, speeding down the road and past the small town to their destination. David pulled out his phone.

“It says we at 1109… do you see anything?” He asked, looking in front of them.

“Um…. oh!” Aldric points to a beaten path off the side of the road, surrounded by trees, “there?” He suggested, raising an eyebrow. David shrugged.

“Worth a shot,” He smiled, pulling into the nearly unused path. As they did, they saw a beautifully built, sturdy cabin. They both turned to each other, eyes wide. David pulled the car to a halt, jumping out.

“OH MY GOSH! ALDRIC, YOU SEE THIS!? THIS IS INCREDIBLE!” David shrieked in joy. Aldric calmly stepped out, smiling up at their new home.

“Yes, I do. It’s wonderful…” He laughed, admiring David’s enthusiasm. They stepped inside, breathing in the crisp wooden air that filled the room.

“I can certainly live with this,” Aldric remarked, looking around with joyful eyes at the relatively empty space. He grabbed the oil lamp left on a small table, illuminating the dark room using it.

“This is it, David, my friend. This is our new life…”

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 133: Married

"Look at him," Draco said to Pansy, tipping slightly further than he'd intended to when he was trying to get a better look at the ridiculously hot bloke leaning against the bar.

"Who?" Pansy asked, whipping her head around to follow Draco's gaze.

"Him," Draco said, extending his arm and bumping his finger into Pansy's nose because his inebriation had apparently affected his gross motor control. "The one with the arse," he said, admiring the lovely, round shape wrapped in tight denim. "Don't you just want to sink your teeth into it?" he asked.

"Draco, wh-"

"And that hair," he added, imagining what it would look like if you released those dark curls from the elastic currently binding them. "Imagine sinking your fingers into that long thick hair, maybe pulling it a little while you-"

"Draco-" she started again.

"Shush," he chastised, "Don't interrupt a good day dream," he said, glaring at her. He returned his eyes to the man at the bar once more, "And look at his shoulder muscles," he added, admiring the way his t-shirt pulled taut across his broad shoulders. The man reached back and scratched his neck, forearm flexing, and Draco might have drooled a bit.

"Draco," she tried again, "How drunk are you?"

He glanced at her before hearing the man laugh and looking back over to see his head tilt back, exposing his throat. He was too distracted to even wonder why he knew that the laugh belonged to the man in the first place. "I'm going to talk to him," he said resolutely before throwing back the shot that remained in front of him and shoving his chair back.

(Read more below the cut)

He smoothed his hair and blew out a nervous breath as he made his way over to the bar, sidling up next to the handsome stranger, "Hello," he said.

The man turned impossibly beautiful green eyes on him, an eye brow rose as his eyes drifted over Draco's face. "Hi," he replied in a voice that felt like honey in Draco's veins as the corner of his mouth ticked up, exposing a dimple.

He swallowed and the man's eyes dropped to his throat. "I'm Draco," he said, holding out a hand.

The man's smile widened, "Harry," he replied, clasping Draco's hand in his.

The name was a bit plain, but Draco could imagine the way it would feel in his mouth as he neared an orgasm, open and delicious. A shiver traced it's way up his spine. "Nice to meet you," Draco replied. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'm just drinking soda tonight," he said, nodding toward his cup.

Draco frowned, "Then why are you here?"

"Waiting for someone."

Jealously burned hot and bright in his stomach. "Well where are they?" he demanded. Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco continued, "It seems pretty rude if you ask me."

"Does it?" Harry asked, his voice warm and amused, and almost fond.

"Yes. Is it a friend?"

"More than a friend," the other man replied, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"A lover?" he asked.

"Closer."

He felt nauseous, "Are you married?" he asked.

"I am," the man replied, holding up his left hand so Draco could see the ring.

"Oh," he whispered, why did that make him feel so sad? "Right," he said, sniffling and blinking against the stinging wetness in his eyes.

"Draco," Harry said, reaching toward him.

"No, it's okay," he said, nodding to himself. "It's fine. You're very kind but-"

"Draco," he repeated, taking Draco's left hand and holding it up, "It's you, you nut," he said with a laugh, "You're my husband," he added, pointing to the matching wedding band on his finger.

"I'm your husband?" he asked incredulously, looking between his ring and the man's face.

Harry nodded, laughing softly at whatever expression was painted on Draco's face.

"Wait a minute," he said, pointing a finger at Harry. The other man held his hand up in surrender and Draco spun around and made his way back to Pansy. "That is my husband?" he hissed.

She took a sip of her martini and turned her gaze from the woman a few tables over. "Yes, darling. I tried to tell you."

"He's my husband?" Draco asked, his eyes feeling suspiciously misty again.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Yes. This happens every time you drink Frangelico. We need to stop letting you drink those birthday cake shots."

"It's my birthday?"

She shook her head, "No," she said in exasperation. "You just like the way those shots taste."

"Oh," he said, frowning again.

"Tell Harry it's time to take you home."

He glanced back over to see that Harry was leaning a hip against the bar as he watched Draco talk to Pansy. Harry gave him a little smile and Draco's insides turned to goo. "Alright," he replied, smiling helplessly back. "Night, Pans."

"Good night, you lush," she replied fondly but Draco was already half way back to Harry.

"Hey," Harry said, giving him a little smile. "Ready to go home?"

Draco nodded and Harry held out an arm for him. He slipped his arm through the other man's and he apparated them home.

"This way, love," Harry called once they landed and Draco got his bearings.

He followed the other man back into a cozy bedroom and watched as Harry stripped out of his shirt. "Oh sweet Merlin," he murmured as his eyes traced the defined musculature of Harry's back.

"What?" Harry asked, turning around and revealing an equally defined front. Draco's jaw dropped and Harry grinned at him, "I always forget how gratifying this is."

"You," Draco said, completely missing whatever it was that Harry said, "You are gorgeous."

"Thank you," Harry replied, stepping closer.

"Can I?" Draco asked, reaching out a hand toward the other man's chest.

He huffed a laugh but nodded.

Draco reached out and trailed his fingers over Harry's clavicles and down his chest, brushing over his lightly defined abs before tracing his way back up once more.

"Draco," Harry breathed, eyes closed as he stood perfectly still, letting Draco's fingers dance along his skin.

"You are unfairly pretty."

Harry's eyes fluttered open.

But before he could say anything Draco asked, "Can I kiss you?"

"If you want to," Harry replied.

He leaned in and pressed his lips softly to the other man's and it was like slipping into a dream he'd had a hundred times. He knew these lips, he knew this body; Draco groaned, pressing into Harry and melding their bodies together.

"There you are," Harry said when Draco drew back far enough to trail kisses along Harry's jaw.

"Love you," he murmured.

"Love you, too," Harry said, tipping his head so he could brush his nose over Draco's.

He sighed and pulled Harry closer, resting his head on his shoulder and hugging him tight.

"Alright?" Harry asked, hands stroking soothingly over Draco's spine.

"Tired," he replied.

Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Time for bed, then."

They went through the familiar motions of getting ready and climbing into bed together. "Harry?" he asked, once they were settled in under the covers and Draco was resting with his ear over Harry's heart. "Thanks for always indulging me."

Harry hummed and Draco could hear the smile in his voice, "It's no hardship," he said. "It's tremendously good for my ego," he added with a little laugh.

"You know you're the only one for me, right?" Draco asked.

He kissed the top of Draco's head, "Of course," he said. "It's not like you don't recognize me, you know. Your conscious mind may forget but your body always knows me. It's why you always cry when I tell you I'm married," he teased.

"I do not," Draco protested.

"You do," Harry argued, "Every time. It's one of my favorite things."

"You like to see me cry?" he asked, vaguely insulted.

He felt Harry shake his head, "No, I love to see the look of wonder on your face when I tell you that we're married," he replied.

"I always feel that way, you know," he confessed, "Even when I'm completely sober. It's incomprehensible to me that you would want this life with me."

Harry held him a little tighter, dropping another kiss to the top of his head, "The feeling is quite mutual my love," he replied.

And they spent the rest of their lives feeling the same; beyond lucky and amazed that a love like this could belong to them.

------------------

Day 132: Tinder Date Gone Wrong | Day 134: Break Up

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabble #love #established relationship #silly #married #cute #drinking

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 3 years

Text

part i, autonomy in your coherence | c.g

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

You’ve forgotten your feelings for Carl, because he didn’t feel the same.

You just wished you did a better job at it.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, suicide ideation

this is a continuation of watch you burn away and i recommend you read that, first! this is also part of a series, so here is the masterlist if you need it!

(cross-posted on ao3!)

Your father once told you he had a patient that died from heartbreak.

“Your heart can’t really break, though, right?” You’d said. A doctor for a father and a laboratory technician for a mother made you more than aware of things, seeing through the myths and pretty white lies of figures like Santa and the tooth fairy.

(They had gone through with it anyway, because although their child knew, it was a gateway to normality in such a busy home.)

Your father scratched his chin, unsure how to respond. “My patient had died from a broken heart, though the process wasn’t as simple as it’s term name. A broken heart — the nonliteral meaning — can be the cause and the domino toppling to many things that could lead to death.”

“Like what?” You’d said with little admission into the conversation, having been flicking through a novel you’d picked up a while back (which featured a one eyed pirate and his partner who’d ended up dying in the end — not that you knew, yet, at least.)

“I don’t know, er,” Your father swirled his coffee lightly, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “Mental health issues, for one. Erratic actions, depression, a lost sense of self. Obsession.”

“Huh,” You muttered, looking up at your father for the first time. “A lost sense of self? Really?”

“What is your father teaching you?” Your mother said, stepping into the kitchen with a questioning expression. The conversation ended there, without so much as a thought after.

You wish you pried your father for further answers. What you’d give to get the workaholic of a man to dump his duo psychology medical major thoughts unto you with little care.

The knowledge would be gold in your time of need, when pulling and pushing distance further between you was like venturing through a field of thorns.

(Perhaps you just missed your parents. But that couldn’t be it, right? They’d died and you had lived, their blood on your hands and the gun in your fingers, their glazed over eyes and your own that nearly matched, cold and willing without a drop of emotion.)

But you’d gotten through it for him— without him. Without anyone, quietly harboring scratches and bleeding from the field with little effort.

If someone asked, you would tell them with full and honest confidence that you harboured no more attachments. You were a naive teenager, running through your feet and over yourself for something that was just a crush.

Crushes are — in their whole singularity and purpose — temporary.

They are brief, and momentarily something that causes ripples and waves in your thoughts, just the slightest mention or faint sight makes you detour down a road of sickly sweet dreams and fantasies.

He was first love (like? You didn’t love him, no, it was a crush and it was something for the unattainable and the inappropriate — in which with full truth, he was.) so you poured the honey glazed remembrances and rose coloured lenses over your memories, because he was a first love, and you know that those were cracks in the heart, growing vines and constricting the part that was him — the part that’d always, always be there, without a doubt.

(However much you didn’t want it to be.)

The leaves and the venomous flowers that sprout in decaying grooves come with age, and you are older now.

You bear fresh scars that litter your entire being and wear newly buried bones of people who were once not just that, the dirt still sitting in the crevices of your nails, and you seem to forget their voices with each passing day.

More and more, the faces look like reference art rather than a taken from life picture, which was all telling them to sit still and watching their eyes crinkle at the edges when you show them the result, voices echoing and asking if they could have it.

Everyday, as it has become a peevish habit like biting your nails or obsessively reminding yourself your stove is off, you draw pictures of everyone.

If you are close enough with them, you ask the subject to sit and model for you, analyzing every breath and laugh they take when you crack a joke or engage them in meaningless conversation just to see how the light hits their brows when they raise, the shadows pooling in their aging lines.

Everyday, you wish and hope and even fucking pray that their portraits continue to be something of anxious routine, rather than trying to dump their image out of your head and onto paper so you can see their faces one more time.

His image seems to change with each moment he sits in for you, once a face with two piercing blues, then a patch and eyes that looked at the dusty wooden floor, and later, someone who looks at you straight, something that told you he was a survivor, who bore his battles proudly, the scar on the right of his face sitting ruggedly and bewitchingly.

You draw him, exactly the way you see him, and when you show him the picture, he laughs, and says “You made me look too pretty,” and you shake your head, “It’s exactly the way I see you.”

You do her, too, upon request. When she sits, you draw her almost like it was professional, drawing the curvature of her face with exact precision, intense shading, marking the features she holds. The dip in her nose, the straight of her hair.

(You often forget who you’re drawing in these moments, and when you step away from the canvas you’re hit with whiplash. It’s subconscious, the way you do these things to please him, wanting to see so clearly how his face spreads delicately with delight.)

It takes a little while for you to convince Ron. When you first propose the drawing, he gives you a confused face, before walking off to do shooting practice. He’s gotten better with the gun over the years, and doesn’t respond when you tell him you know why.

(His mother didn’t come out of it alive, and his brother didn’t come back without harm. The younger boy was alive, but would grow up with only his brother by his side and one less limb to account for.)

The second time, he makes a snide comment, albeit with no bite, about how ‘you must be a horrible artist, to ask me of all people to model for you.’

The third time, you’ve dragged him to the small office you makeshifted for the drawings in the garage. He studies every slit of paper you’ve ripped out of your book, the unfinished sketches or yet-to-be painted canvases piling up against the walls. Complete works sit proudly on your wall, displayed for the world to see.

His hands hover over the paints sitting on your desk, charcoal, dirt, sticks, paintbrushes, handmade dyes, wallpaper cut-outs.

“Why?” Ron says curiously.

“‘Why?’ what?” You echo, fiddling with a fork you grabbed from the kitchen, splaying out a thick lather combination of beet dye and cement onto your finger to check the consistency.

“Why do you draw these portraits? I get the others because,” He says, leaving the words “because they’re dead” hanging in the air between you two in mutual and regretful acknowledgement, “But you draw these everyday. You drag Carl and Enid off, or just sit on the benches and draw Maggie and Glenn knee-deep in the dirt.”

You sigh a dreadful breath, wiping the rest of the beet-cement mix onto the page with the pad of your fore-finger. “We’ll forget them one day.”

He looks at you, unblinking. The dead, the gone, and the soon to be long forgotten only existed in your memories, in your words, and when the time came that the world had moved on and stopped, they would cease. Their whole memory relied on the living, nothing about them able to reach and grasp life on their own. Memory was all that was left, and it was all you could do to wash away regret.

“And the rest?”

You bite your tongue hesitantly, your movements rigid, “You see their portraits. Everyday they get less and less coherent. When — when time comes , these drawings will be the only thing getting me by.” You whispered.

The ball had dropped. Coping and grief in it’s big and ugly form, preying on your conscious hungrily, taking shelter in your largest worries. Claws sunken in your flesh, the monster was a thing that felt like it would never go away, because it would loom right alongside death itself, watching and waiting for the moment they’d deemed someones time to have been enough.

(It would never be enough. Enough meant they’d pop in from next door and ask to borrow something, enough meant they’d swipe dirt across your face to make you angry — enough meant they would come in everyday and sit for their portrait once more.)

A creaking on the floorboard caught your attention, eyes watching as Ron’s feet walk to the corner of the room, before hopping onto the wooden seat with little effort.

“I’m not going. I never will. But — do it anyway. I’d… like to see how I look on paper.” He said cheekily, picking up a thin pencil off your desk and handing it out to you.

So you did. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes snowballed into hours in the dim lighting of the garage, asking the blond to turn his body, stretch his head and make different expressions, fulfilling and destroying the little worm of worry sitting in your head.

When you’re done with the charcoal, turning it around for Ron to see and to inspect, he asks, “What about you?”

“And what about me?” You say. His questions never make sense without further discussion, but the boy always has to wait for you to pry and ask him to elaborate.

“You don’t have any drawings of yourself. You’re the artist, the photographer, the one who makes these things that will stay longer than the memories and the words — so what about you?”

It’s rare that Ron delves into his emotions and the things he really means, but when he does, it’s something that stays, for a long while.

“I,” You didn’t have an answer for it. You weren’t one to do a self-portrait, it not being the same as having someone to sit and take from. “I don’t want to.” You finished simply, an ice cold realization coming to reality in you.

“Why?” He says the same words as before, but the words hold a heavy weight.

“I don’t know.”

You knew.

Maybe one day, you’d wished that you’d wash away like seafoam on the beach. You wouldn’t leave a single portrait behind of you, and the memories and the words were left mum behind his lips, because you knew how he got in a loss.

Quiet and unfeeling, it was so selfish of you that you’d counted on how he got in that state to leave you behind, neglecting you like the fruits of your memories you’d never get to bear.

Ron’s gaze bore into you like he knew exactly what you were thinking, telepathically taking in every thought you’d conveyed at your dispense.

“You should.” Is all he says, before stepping off the wooden stool and out the door.

What was wrong with you? You feel so… entirely foolish. Obsolete. Embarrassing.

You walked past the remnants of those who were gone everyday, obsessively creating canvas over canvas of them and the only thing you could think was that you’d wish to position yourself beside them?

This world was catching up to you, and fast, but you’d just have to run faster than it could.

#twd #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #chandler riggs #angst #the walking dead #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead carl #carl grimes x you

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt. 8

Summary: Forced to face their feelings, neither the Darkling nor his wife dare to speak them out loud. Influenced by Genya’s words, Y/N starts to wonder about her husband’s past.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven

=================================

As a young girl, Y/N often daydreamed about her first time. She believed it would be with a kind man who’d move mountains to find her if she called his name. Reality was quite different – this man wasn’t kind, but he’d burn the world for her.

Whether he realized it, she saw through him easily. The Darkling is a symbol, the fear surrounding his name is all for show because he’s not evil. In fact, she’d go as far as say he’s redeemable. Anyone capable of love is capable of being saved and while she didn’t know what he needed saving from, her heart told her he’ll need her. And she knew he cared, she felt it in the way he held her in that tent, and again in the way he’d touch her when he had all the power just the night before.

Moving her head toward the other side of the bed, Y/N looked at her sleeping husband. His lashes are long, thick and dark, a beard that tickled her neck adorning his face. Asleep, his cheekbones were not as sharp, his face much more welcoming and relaxed. He didn’t seem as the formidable foe she imagined him to be.

Aleksander laid on his side, facing her. Pursing her lips, Y/N allowed her eyes to roam over him. His broad chest had a small area of dark, curling hair. His muscles are made large, shapely mounds. His arms are capped by a round, firm muscle. Biting her lower lip, her eyes continued down to his hard, flat stomach with faint lines forming separate areas of muscles, making her swallow thickly. It was only after a moment that her eyes went lower. What she saw did not seem so powerful as it felt the previous night, but as she watched, his manhood began to grow.

She gasped and her eyes flew back to his. He was awake, watching her intently with a smirk, his eyes growing darker by the moment. No longer was he the gentle man she had awakened to, but a man of passion, the general who showed her he was just as capable of leading a woman in the bed as he was of leading an army on the field.

Y/N tried to move away but Aleksander still held her trapped by her hair that strayed on his side, under his back. What was worse, she didn’t even want to fight him. Y/N recalled her plans for him clearly; but this was more than a plan she carelessly implemented. Everything was different now when she had the memory of his body and the pleasure he infused her with when he made love to her. Could that term even be applied to them, she wondered. Did he see it as making love or simply satisfying his needs?

“Stubborn wife,” he whispered and the tone of his voice made chills run along her arms. It’s more than the tone he used or the look of his dark eyes that had her insides turning, but the words he had spoken…it almost felt like a term of endearment coming from him.

Grimacing, she rolled her eyes at him, “Dreadful husband.”

Pursing his lips, he seemed amused rather than insulted.

She was right, their relationship has changed.

Irrevocably.

Last night she had thought she learned all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, but now she thought, perhaps she knew very, very little. There was much more to learn from this man and of this man and how to use that knowledge for her own gain, but right now? She just wanted to let herself go. She wanted to enjoy his company. For once, he was good-natured, playful even. She felt genuinely happy in their little bubble.

For a moment, Y/N wished to stay there. She wished he could always look at her as he is now.

She looked at him, his hair still a mess in the bright morning sunlight. She watched him intently, perplexed how he could look more handsome and more human than she’d ever seen him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He runs his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He’s better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him. How could she be when his fingers have delved lower, pushing inside her?

Gasping, she smiles against his lips. “Genya will be here soon”, she warns him.

"I don't fucking care", he insisted as he crashed into her, his arms wrapping around her like a cage she never wished to escape from. He brought his mouth on hers, inhaling her, "Do you even know what it feels like to be around you?! I can't", he paused as his arms drew away from her and she shuddered as he took the warmth they provided. With bruised lips, she watched as he ran his hand through what used to be perfectly tousled hair. Disheveled, he turns to her, "I can't breathe around you."

She chuckles at him, "Well, I am breathtakingly beautiful."

Rolling his eyes, the Darkling shakes his head, "Well, you're not unattractive. I'll concede on that."

She ran her hands over his back as he lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the pulsating beat of her carotid, the only friend he had in her – her pulse couldn’t hide how enamored or exhilarated he made her feel. Instinctively she leaned her head back, her breathing turning deeper, quicker.

When his lips and tongue touched her breasts, she nearly cried out. She thought perhaps she might die under such torture. Trying to pull his head back to her mouth failed as he gave a deep, guttural laugh that made her shiver, her insides turning with the sweet melody and her heart? Her heart felt warm, big and incredibly full.

Maybe he did own her.

A knock on the door had interrupted their bliss as Y/N stiffened, looking at the door in slight panic. If someone saw them right now, no one would doubt their marriage was a successful love match. They seemed happy, truly in love. That’s not how it was meant to be.

“Someone doesn’t value their life”, he grumbled under his breath. “GO AWAY!”

Clasping a hand over his mouth, she chuckled. “Who is it?!”

“General?” Ivan’s voice faded her smile instantly.

Even with Aleksander’s hands cupping her bottom, his body covering her and the door being shut, Y/N felt ashamed as if she was bare in front of the entire world.

“Unless the world is burning, leave me alone!” Pecking Y/N’s lips, he smirked, “I never get a peaceful morning anymore.”

Come to think of it, Y/N never found him in the bed when she woke up. This was the very first night they spent together and he stayed by her side. Considerate was never a word she’d use describing him before, but he is considerate, kind and incredibly cautious when it comes to her. It made her heart sink.

Hearing no word from Ivan, Aleksander’s hand moved. Caressing the inside of her thighs, he made her shake in desire. Holding her breath, she bit her lower lip. Still sore from the night before, she felt her stomach twist as he lined himself up with her entrance once more. Pushing himself inside, he captures her lips as she cries out. The pleasure is undeniable, but she couldn’t deny there was pain too. She clutched at him, her legs pressing around his waist as she rose to meet each thrust. Sweet torment he had inflicted felt as if it would split her in two - one Y/N to plot his demise and the other who’d never let him leave her bed.

Finally, when she was sure her heart would explode, she felt the pulsing throbs that released her and soon after, Y/N felt him speed up and his own release followed. Collapsing on top of her, Aleksander held her so close that she could hardly breathe. In that moment she didn’t really care if she ever did breathe again.

Aleksander didn’t move, still buried deep inside her as if she is his saving grace. It’s insane to think he could fuck her into submission and feelings. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she developed feelings for him, but that realization created doubts. Eventually, something will have to break – and the thought of hurting him suddenly felt too much to bear.

“Are you alright?” He moved her hair out of her face, remaining on top of her as if she’s a conquered territory he refused to leave.

Swallowing thickly, she nods. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Eyes widening, the Darkling felt heat rush to his face. He was trying to be sweet, to show her it was more than a quick fuck. It was indescribable for him – a dawn after a long night he’s lived in. No woman ever lessened the loneliness inside his heart and then she waltzed into his life. He couldn’t imagine living without her again. She was the northern star in his dark sky and he never wanted to leave.

“I should see Ivan about earlier”, he murmured, nearly wincing as he pulled out. She wrapped herself up in the sheets again, her eyes wide as she stared ahead, thinking about how badly she’s already failing her mission.

Frowning as she shifted, Y/N felt Aleksander’s semen leave her. She cleared her throat, her eyes watering. She felt disgusted with herself, like she needed her skin rubbed off with scalding hot water and peeled off if that didn’t work. She could feel him, smell him on every inch of her skin and the worst of it all? She loathed just how cold she felt when his arms weren’t wrapped around her. She absolutely detested how giddy her heart felt when she saw the shit-eating grin on his face as he brought her to climax.

“When will we visit the armies by the fold?” She asked, switching into the woman she is instead of the woman she’s molded into by his lips.

Impassive, he looked back at her as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. “Why? Don’t believe I’ve kept my word?”

It unnerved her just how cold his voice felt, how impersonal. Standing, she wrapped the nightgown around her body. Taking his kefta in her hands, she held it open for him to slip into.

His eyes flicker from the kefta to her, as if he’s confused as well. It felt odd not knowing their place now. Their previous dynamic was easy to settle into, bickering felt like second nature. Conversing without spewing venom brought unfamiliar discomfort mostly because they’d much rather return to the bed behind them. Leaving that room carried an unspoken possibility of their time together being nothing but a fluke – a onetime deal. The outside world carries responsibilities, the kind that places them on opposite sides of the war.

“Thank you”, he turns around, allowing her to help dress him. Wives do that, he realized. Loving wives help their husbands dress just as often as they help them undress. Husbands do the same for their wives – though he much preferred the undressing part.

He kissed her brow unexpectedly, eyes flickering to her trembling lips as they passed a surprised gasp. “I know you want to see the results on a field, but rest assured I’ve kept my word.” Licking his lips, he reached for a glass from behind her. Pouring himself a glass, he watched her gnaw on her lower lip. For once, the ice queen showed there are emotions inside her capable of more than just disdain.

Breaking out of her daze, she cleared her throat. “I prefer to have confirmation”, she remarked.

Snorting, he looks up in frustration. He wanted to grab her by the throat as he would with any other human who’d dare challenge him, question him. In his mind, he pinned her to the bed, his hands wrapped around her delicate little wrists. ‘Don’t play games with me’, he’d say, ‘Don’t ever think you’re capable of that.’ He wanted so badly to treat her the same, as an enemy, but she had done something to him. No matter how hard he wished he could fight it, something inside him came to life – his heart beats unburdened by the shadows, for her. It was always going to be her.

“I guess I’m asking you to trust me”, he looked at her with a softness he visibly struggled with. His hand griped the glass far too tightly for it to fool her. He was hurt by her insinuation and she didn’t know how to respond.

“Aleksander.” Calling him by his first name for the first time felt so natural, but terrifying as his eyes lit up when it crossed her lips.

He shuddered. “Say it again”, he commanded, his eyes darkened as he pressed his lips together.

The look on her face would surely haunt him for an eternity. She was shocked, maybe even frightened. She didn’t mean to call him by his name, she had made a mistake and he could read it on her face.

She spun, fleeing into the bathroom. She ran from him like he had come to steal her soul. He thought about chasing after her, but it would be futile. She would return on her own. She lost the game, she was his. He swallowed his whisky and smiled. Perhaps the way his heart fluttered at the sound of his true name passing her lips should have been a sign he lost the game too, but he didn’t give it a second thought.

She is his.

Once he left, she did exactly as she wished – she scrubbed herself clean of any remainders of him. He’ll walk around with her scent clinging to him, but she will not be branded his. Though her hips bear his markings, she felt satisfied they were easily covered with a kefta.

“You don’t have to say it”, Genya raised an eyebrow at the shadows of Kirigan’s fingertips across her friend’s hips.

“Say what?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, her heart picking up pace.

Smirking, Genya lowered her voice, “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N, exhaled audibly through her nose. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Ha!” Genya clapped her hands, “We are winning today!”

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N turned her undivided attention to an overly excited Genya. “Care to explain?”

“Well”, she shrugged innocently, “I may have found us a new ally.”

Stunned, Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Who?”

“David”, Genya exclaimed.

“Isn’t he Kirigan’s little…pet?”

Knitting her eyebrows, Genya huffed, “No! He’s a brilliant man and he believes in equality and a brighter future.”

“But can we trust him with the secret?”

Swallowing thickly, Genya paused. Inhaling deeply, she nods. “I’d vouch for him.”

“I need concrete proof”, Y/N sighs, “This isn’t going to end well for us if he decides to spill everything to Kirigan!”

Rubbing her temples, Y/N felt as if the pressure inside her head would cause her brain to burst. It’s pressing in, choking every good idea she’s ever had.

“What would happen if he did know?” Genya crouched before her. With her hands on Y/N’s knees, Genya sighed. “Maybe he’d be receptive too.”

Snorting, Y/N couldn’t believe how naïve Genya is. “No. He’d be too angry to see the big picture.”

It didn’t matter that he’s begun colonizing Y/N’s heart or that every inch of her skin craved the touch of his hand. It felt as if she were invincible when he stood beside her, as if he had made her fireproof. No scar hurt when he kissed her, no grief was too difficult to bear when he looked at her.

“Damn it”, Y/N covered her face, “I want to believe in him, I do.” She couldn’t help but wonder if her feelings are the aftermath of the night he saved her life or the night of ecstasy he had given her. Is it really genuine emotion or did her heart move to her vagina?

“So believe”, Genya encouraged. A sympathetic smile adorned her full lips, her eyes kinder than before.

“How can I ever trust him when he’s got a superiority complex regarding humans? He’s never going to willingly protect one!”

“He did with you”, Genya pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re paranoid because you are afraid allowing yourself to see the good in him might actually make you love him.”

And she is. She’s afraid to love him or let him love her. What would be the point? In the end, they’re too different.

“Talk to David again”, Y/N stood, sniffling. “I’ll head to the library.”

Genya raised an eyebrow. “Library?”

The first casualty of war is innocence and Y/N had none left. She was once called ‘angel’ by her father, by her comrades in the army too. She was the epitome of a pure heart who would sacrifice itself for others. She didn’t feel like an angel anymore, but she will play the part. No one expects an angel to set the world on fire.

“Yeah”, Y/N breathes out. “I want to look for something.” Truth be told, she wanted to research Aleksander and his lineage.

If the dark heretic is from his bloodline, she needed to know everything about him, about the hearts of those he came from. If she’s ever going to consider her husband as an ally, she has to know him – all of him. If she asked, she worried he’d cover up the darkest parts of him. He’d deem her too human to understand, too fragile to know all the horrors that tie into who he’s become.

It was time to find out if she could trust Aleksander.

=============================

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Part 9

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone

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high-functioning-lokipath · 2 years

Note

OK, so Bucky meets a nice young lady, old for her age, in NY or Louisiana while he's visiting Sam. You'll have to decide which locale you like better. It might be fun to include Sam, like he could give Bucky crazy dating advice just to bug him. Date goes well, even though Bucky is very awkward and nervous, which she finds adorable. They end up seeing each other more and she spoils him w home made dinners and thoughtful presents, which he happily reciprocates.

You met him in New York. At the time you were working at the 50's style diner around the corner from your apartment. You were an old soul and this restaurant was the perfect place for you. Apparently, your mystery man was an old soul too. He became a regular there. His name was James, but he preferred Bucky.

After some time, you got to know him and his routine. You knew exactly what he ordered when he came in, and even what music he'd buy on the jukebox. You knew him so well that you were able to have everything set up for him before he even walked in the door. You never really spoke, unfortunately, so whatever attraction you had to him was left to remain afar.

Suddenly one day, he disappeared. Never came in again. You'd never found out where he lived but you knew he was close by. According to one of your neighbors who knew a guy who knew Bucky, he'd moved out.

You went on with life, finally moving out of the New York area and down to Louisiana with some family of yours. The news was appalling. The government decided they could just up and replace Steve Rogers with some random blonde-haired, blue-eyed dope? You knew from the moment you saw him that John Walker wasn't the right choice. You could tell something was off about him.

Months went by and your suspicions proved true. You were extremely relieved when you saw Sam Wilson take the title. He was a good man, personally had known Steve, and he deserved it.

You were at your Grandma's house, borrowing some old vinyl from her when she saw the news about the real new Captain America. "Oh! Oh! Honey! That's Darlene's boy! Get me my phone!"

"Who's son?" You ask her, handing her the old landline she still used.

"You know! Sarah's little brother! You all used to play together when you were babies!"

"Maybe that's why I can't remember, Gramma," You chuckle. As you leave, you hear her talking with Sarah Wilson on the phone, planning some big party or whatever.

You chuckled to yourself as you walked to your house around the corner. Before this moment, you would never have guessed you'd know the great Sam Wilson.

"Oh dear! I'm so sorry! I didn't-"

"It's okay," You say, regaining your bearings. You'd not been paying attention to where you walked and accidentally ran into someone, dropping your bag with the records.

"Are you okay?" The man asks. You nod and start gathering the vinyl back together. "You still listen to this stuff?"

"Yes, I do!" You immediately defended "It's quality music. No one sings like they did anymore. Besides, vinyl sounds the best."

"I completely agree!" He exclaims, surprising you. You look up at him and very nearly drop your bag again.

"It's you!" You exclaim. "You used to live in New York didn't you?"

"Um, yes, but how-"

"The diner! I worked at the diner," You smile.

"Oh! Yes! I'm so sorry, doll," He replies, blushing brightly. "I didn't recognize you in clothes." You raise an eyebrow and he pales immediately, eyes widening. "Regular clothes! I mean regular clothes! Not your uniform!" He raises his left hand to his forehead and groans. "I'm so so sorry," He mumbles.

"It's fine, Bucky," You smile. Noticing his hand, you gasp. "Oh my gosh! You're-I hadn't-Oh my gosh!" You exclaim.

"Oh, um, yeah," He says. "I'm, well, I was the Winter Soldier." He starts to turn and leave but you grab his arm and pull him back.

"It's fine!" You assure him. "I'm not scared. If anything, I'm really excited," You admit. "I, um, I've always wanted to meet you." Bucky smiles awkwardly and nods.

"Okay," He says slowly. Bucky's about to say something else when his phone rings. He apologizes and takes the call, motioning for you to give him a moment. "Could you possibly wait one minute?" He pauses and rolls his eyes at whoever is on the other end. "Sam, I'm-" He says. "I'm busy right now." He looks back at you and smiles tightly, obviously frustrated. You giggle lightly.

"He's so cute!" You tell yourself.

"Don't make me call Sarah! No! We are not setting up a-Sam! I am trying to talk to someone right now!"

Sarah? Sam? You gasped when you realized who he was talking to. Of course, he would know Captain America. Both of them in fact!

“Yes, Sam, I’m talking to a-” He stopped, glancing back at you and chuckling nervously. “Yeah, Sam,” He said quieter. You hear what you could only describe as an excited whoop from Sam. Bucky hung up the phone before Sam could say anything more. “Sorry about that,” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling awkwardly.

“Hey, if you need to go-” You start, not wanting to make him feel worse.

“No! I mean, um, would you like to do on a date with me?” He blurts out. You stare at him for a moment, completely shocked. He takes that as a rejection and starts to apologize.

“Yes!” You exclaim. “Yes, I’ll go out with you!” You interrupt. Bucky stops and smiles, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, how about tonight? Around 7?” You agree and swap numbers with him so you can send him your address. “Okay,” He says again. “I’ll see you tonight!” He hurries off, almost skipping away. You giggle quietly and head back home with your records.

Later that day, you have the records playing while you dig through your closet for what to wear. Suddenly your phone dings with a text.

I’m not so sure about this. Are you sure this is the best thing to wear for a date nowadays?

Well, depending on where we’re going, I could wear this dress and match you?

Y/N! I’m so sorry! Sam was texting me and I must have accidentally clicked on you.

No worries, Bucky ☺️ If I may say so, you do look cute

Ah, thanks I guess. Sorry again.

You continue trying to decide, but find yourself at a loss with not knowing where the date is planned for. You text Bucky real quick, asking him where he’s planning on going so you can prepare appropriately. A few minutes later your phone dings again.

I feel a lot better in this, Sam. Will this be okay for the restaurant?

Ah-ha! A restaurant! Now I at least have some context! And you look quite handsome. 😏

I texted you again didn’t I, Y/N?

A few hours later, Bucky shows up at your door, holding out a bouquet of flowers for you. “Oh thank you, Bucky! I’ve never gotten flowers before,” You admit.

“I’m glad you like them,” He smiles as you go to the kitchen to put them in water. At that moment, Bucky has a chance to really look at you. “Wow,” He says under his breath. “Y/N, you look lovely,” He tells you. You spin back around to face him, skirt flaring.

“Thank you, James,” You reply. You'd picked out the dress especially for him. The old soul you were, most of your clothes had a vintage, retro aspect to them and this dress was perfect for the occasion.

The two of you head out to the restaurant, talking and laughing the whole way. Bucky was sort of awkward, you noticed, obviously nervous about dating again after so long. Dinner went well, only a couple of people recognized Bucky. When he dropped you off, he kept fidgeting.

"Well, um, I hope you had a good time," He says.

"I had a wonderful time, Bucky," You smile. He smiles back and nods.

"Me too," He says. "So, um, I guess I-"

"Do you want to have dinner again tomorrow?" You ask. He looks up at you embarrassedly.

"Yes," He admits. "But I'm supposed to be the one who asks."

"Well, I may be an old soul like you," You smile. "But I think a little change is okay sometimes." He smiles and takes your hands, kissing the back of them. "How about tomorrow night, at 5? You come over to my place for dinner and we just-"

"Oh," He says, backing away quickly.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, Sam said if a girl invites you over to her house-"

"James Buchanan Barnes," You interrupt, putting your hands on your waist and cocking a hip. "I promise, I will never, ever, ever, trap you into something like that," You state firmly. Looking away, a bit embarrassed yourself now, you add, "I just wanted to make you a home-cooked meal and listen to some records."

"Oh!" He says again, happier this time. "Well, in that case, I accept," He says, taking your hands once more. You smile at each other for a moment before he leans down and kisses you quickly. "I'll see you tomorrow!" He calls out, hurrying back to Sam's to tell him everything.

"Bye, Bucky!" You yell down the street.

The next day, Bucky shows up promptly at 5 pm. He even helps you make dinner. Or at least tries to. "Good thing my hand is metal," He mumbles.

"What's that?" You ask turning around.

"Nothing!" He says, hiding the knife he was chopping with behind him. You stare at each other seriously for a second and then both burst out laughing.

"You are hopeless in the kitchen," You tease.

"That may be true," He laughs.

After dinner, the two of you cuddle on the sofa listening to old records. "Oh! I have something for you!" You say, jumping up and running to the closet to grab something. "Here," you say, handing him a small box. "I thought you'd like it." Bucky excitedly opens the package, completely freezing when he sees its contents. "It's a Bucky Bear," you explain when he doesn't say anything. "If you don't like it, it's fine," you quickly excuse, going to reach for the box.

"No!" He nearly yells, pulling away from you and holding it tightly against his chest. You hold back a laugh and smile at him. "I like it," He says.

"Well good," You reply, hugging him. "I don't really know you well enough to get you something more personal, so, I was hoping you'd like it."

"You sure that's a good idea, doll?" You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion. "Getting to know me more," He explains.

"Bucky," You smile, touching his arm. "You've been here at my house for hours, I just gave you a gift, and you're still wondering if I like you?" He nods sheepishly. "Darling, if I had wanted you gone I would have told you long ago. Now give me some more cuddles, you're soft," You say. He chuckles and pulls you into his arms with the Bucky Bear. Bucky sighs softly, contentedly, relieved to have finally found his home in this modern world.

"Would it be too soon to say I love you?" He asks quietly.

"No, I don't think so," You reply. "Because I love you too."

"Even with my arm?"

"Especially with your arm!" Bucky blushes brightly and you laugh. "Now shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am," He grins, leaning down to capture your lips against his. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?"

"What's your ring size?"

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believeitseeitdoit · 3 years

Text

Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

“Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

“Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

“SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

“Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

“So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

“Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

“You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

“I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery. As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

“And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.”

As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

“Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

“Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

“Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first.

Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

“Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle.

You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

“Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

“Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

“Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

“My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll @iraot @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim @thebescht @makbarnes

#stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #parent Bucky #parent steve

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wreckmetoji · 3 years

Text

Is it true?

A fic in which your dangerous, rich fiance is always absent, so you take comfort in your good friend’s company

↳ Geto Suguru/Reader

content warning. drug use, adultery, unprotected sex, cheating, neglect, gun use, implied death, afab reader, smut, fluff, slight angst

**Minors DNI**

3k words

It takes a special kind of idiot to not see whats in front of his eyes, especially if that something radiates a gleaming light, an unparalleled brightness. Taking something for granted is one of man's greatest sin, this, Suguru is sure of. He watches from your side every time your fiancé leaves, kissing your cheeks and promising I won't be long, it's just a week. Normally, this wouldn't be something worthy of calling a sin, but it was the non-stop business trips that resulted in neglect towards you, the shining, beautiful star he had in his hands, all to himself. The thought made him sick. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. As much as he did neglect you, going off to wherever his next destination was, Satoru kept a watchful eye on you. It was selfish– disgusting, he'd argue, keeping your brilliance hidden away from all other eyes, all while not even taking the time to enjoy it himself. Suguru is lucky enough, however, to be considered a close and irreplaceable friend to both you and the guilty man in question. The three of you had an unimaginable, unbreakable bond many never got to experience in their lifetime. Well, one could consider it luck, or damning, depending on how you look at it. As Suguru laid on the floor with you, heads side by side but laying in different directions, he decided in this moment it was the former. You had taken up the bad habit of numbing the lonely hole in your heart with anything you could get your hands on. Drugs, drinking, smoking. Nothing ever worked for a long period of time, bouncing from one thing to another every month. Suguru was guilty of this particular high, only gently suggesting why don't we take mushrooms? Together. I'm sure it will be fun. The music playing from your very expensive television speakers wound in and out of both of your consciousness, fading out when you would peak, then back in when you came back down. Satoru seemed to think, for some reason, the expensive things he bought you would make up for his missing presence. Ridiculous, a sin in itself. "Sugu," You muttered, unsure of just how loud you were speaking. Even if he hadn't heard you, his watchful eyes had been trained on your face this entire time, watching you blink numbly at the ceiling. He smiled, responding with an inquisitive hum, sucking in a silent breath as he watched your lips part, then close, then part again, seemingly unsure of what you were going to say. "The feeling, it– it keeps going away, then coming back. It's like... like waves. Is that normal?" Your voice was raspy, mouth dry and brows furrowed in slight worry. Suguru simply smiled, a hand coming up to gently pet your hair. "It's normal, you're fine." He crooned, exhaling slowly as you closed your eyes and leaned into his hand. "I'm here, don't worry." Such a beautiful light, a radiant star in this dark, disgusting world. The smack of your lips could be heard over the music, only slightly. Suguru chuckled, sitting up and getting his bearings before standing. "Let's get you some water, little lamb." A name he didn't dare call you around Satoru. You never seemed to say anything, though. He offered his hand out, and you graciously clasped both of yours around it, having him pull you up with ease. If you thought he didn't notice the way you clung so close to him, gazing up at his fox-like features for just a bit too long, you were wrong. He padded over to the kitchen, your hands never leaving his, using him as an anchor through your unfamiliar high. He inwardly praised himself in self-satisfaction, knowing something like this would probably go so much differently had you'd been alone. Only temporarily removing his hand from yours, he reached for a glass, side-eyeing you when you settled on leaning into his arm, cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his worn, oversized black shirt. He tapped the glass against the water dispenser on the fridge, and once it filled, handed it to you. Watching you so graciously guzzle down the ice cold liquid, Suguru took notice of the water trickling down the sides of your mouth, curving to the shape of your lip, dribbling down your jaw, and gathering at your chin only to drip on the floor. He paid special attention to the way your tongue passed over your lips when you placed the glass down on the counter. Nimble fingers reached up, index finger hooking under your chin in a seemingly innocent way, wiping the water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb. The wide eyed stare you gave him from such a simple touch made him clench his jaw. How long had it been since Satoru touched you, loved you like you deserved? The silence that hung in the air, save the loud music playing from your living room, felt like hours, just staring. There was an unspoken need, both waiting for the word, any word, to confirm said need. You were the first to speak. "I think I need to sit down." That hadn't quite been what he was searching for, but Suguru smiled nonetheless, walking with you to the living room to sit back down on the floor in front of the couch. He did notice, however, that through your interaction you had at some point grabbed onto his hand again, still holding onto it tightly. He laced his fingers between yours, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you. Just from one look, he could tell that you were definitely worse off than him, but still not high enough to not have your own mind about what you were doing. His gentle, smooth voice calling your name got you to tilt your head up from his shoulder, faces inches from each other. "Why are you so devoted to Satoru?" It was a question he'd asked many times before, your answer the same every time. He noticed that the more he asked, the more your answers became questions themselves. "I... he loves me. He takes care of me, he makes sure I always have what I need." An answer he's heard a million times. "Ah, but he doesn't give you everything you need. He's never around to give you what you need the most." You fell silent, never breaking eye contact. He knew that deep down, you knew it to be true as well. "I love you." "I know you do, Sugu." "I could take care of you and give you what you need." Time and time again he'd said he loves you, and meant it, but you never seemed to grasp the idea of how deep his love went for you. Much more more platonic, it surpassed that long ago. When you didn't answer, his hand came up and cupped the side of your face. You didn't pull away. "Let me take care of you," Suguru whispered against your lips. He kissed you gently at first, testing the waters. It didn't take you long to return the favor, moving your lips against his. The action made him smile, pushing against you with a bit more fervor. He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, not caring if there were consequences. As you parted from him, only centimeters away, he scanned your face, the textures and ridges emanating a halo of yellow and white light. It must be the mushrooms. "He's probably watching," You muttered. Suguru only shook his head, pressing his lips onto yours again, whispering a quiet let him watch. He was well aware Satoru had cameras set up all around your house, after all he was one of the richest and most infamous men in the city and you were his property. He could trust no one completely with your safety, not even Suguru. There was a sense of urgency to how he grabbed, touched, and squeezed every part of you he could reach, settling his hands in the dip of your waist after you clambered onto his lap. Your hands moved up his chest, neck, the sides of his face, settling in his loosely tied up hair, while his own hands greedily gripped your back, pushing your chest into his. How hard he was kissing you, the endlessly wandering hands, the way your tongues danced and licked and pushed against each other, was making him dizzy. Or, more likely, it was his high starting to peak again. Suguru whispered your name against your lips, kisses moving down to your exposed neck, sighing against your skin when you stretched out to give him easier access. How many times over the years he saw the marks and hickeys Satoru left all over your perfect skin, he lost count. The satisfaction Suguru felt as he tongued your pulse point just under your jaw, not so gently sucking on it, was unparalleled. The airy moan dripping like honey from your mouth only added to his fire. His hands moved under your shirt, not missing a single stretch of skin as he stroked up your abdomen, palming at the flimsy lace fabric of your bralette. He could already feel your nipples hardening under it. Hands gripping your ribcage, using his thumbs to brush over your nipples, his own chest heaved in time with yours. He tore himself from your neck, grinning unabashedly at the bright red, blue, and purple marks left in his wake. He savored the way your jaw fell slack at his ministrations, now taking your nipples between his thumbs and index finger. "You're so beautiful, little lamb... so perfect." Involuntarily, his head flew back to rest against the cushion of your couch when you rocked yourself back and forth on his clothed cock, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. He'd waited so long to have you. When you repeated the action, his hands flew down to curve of your hips, gripping them tightly and forcing you down harder, faster. The feeling of your small fingers running up the back of his neck pulled him from his trance, opening his eyes just long enough to watch you dive in for another kiss. This one was messier, less calculated, and so desperate. He exhaled through his nose, leaving no room to breathe in anything but you, only you, his sole salvation, his shining beacon. "Suguru, I need you– I need to feel you." You breathlessly whined, gripping the hem of his shirt. You didn't have to ask him twice. In one, swift motion, he'd stripped himself of his shirt. In the split second his vision was blocked, you'd began taking your shirt and bralette off as well. Everything about you was magnificent, there was nothing more pure in this world, Suguru was sure of it. Lavishing your plump, kiss-bruised lips with his own became second nature, wanting nothing more than to devour every sound you had to offer him, lapping them up like they were a desert oasis. One hand went back to your hip, guiding you in a back-and-forth motion, while his other dove down the top of your shorts. A thin finger pushed against your clothed heat, feeling how soaked your panties were. They were sticking to every crevice. You threw your head back, a moan and a shudder following suit. Suguru sucked a breath through his teeth, eyes trained on how you bucked your hips, the way your movements shivered, faltered, and shook. "It's been so long since he's touched you, hm?" He mused, nose brushing up against your exposed clavicle. "It must be, if you're already so eager to cum." His words were smooth like velvet, but they had a bite hidden in them, a darkness he kept well hidden. Lithe fingers slipped past the hem of your underwear, tracing tight, soft circles around your neglected clit. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin, so perfect, all for me, pretty little thing. The choked cry that came from your mouth, and the jagged stutter of your hips, let him know everything he needed. With a roll of his hips, he pushed his impossibly hard erection between the folds of your clothed cunt. Even with layers of clothes between you, he could feel the slick of your climax soaking through his pants. Only when your hands came to his chest, pushing against him, is when he slowed, then stopped his movements. His arms hooked behind your back, leaning you back to the floor. "Don't worry little lamb, there's more to come." Suguru purred, kissing just below your ear. Your eyes were blown, and when he glanced down he smirked at the wet patch on your shorts, chuckling at the matching mark of your arousal on his black joggers. "Naughty little thing, didn't take much did it?" You didn't answer, not right away, the words seemed trapped in your throat, stupefied by the way he curled his fingers around the band of your shorts and underwear. "I need you, so bad." A noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan passed his lips. He'd waited so, so long to hear those words come from your mouth. He refuses to admit it's something he thought about frequently when he was alone. "As you wish." Suguru pulled your underwear and shorts down your legs, his heartbeat pounding in time with the music long forgotten as he shimmied out of his pants and boxers, kicking them away. He wanted to take his time with you, savor you, taste you to completion, but with how hard he was and how desparate you looked, that would have to wait for another time. His cock bobbed obscenely, twitching when your eyes remained trained on it. For reasons to remain unspecified, Suguru knew for a fact he had the same length as Satoru, but he was girthier, heavier. That must be why your mouth watered. A gentle hand came to the side of your face, urging you to look up at his eyes as he lowered himself, bare chest brushing up against your exposed breasts. "I'll take care of you, sweet lamb." He kissed you, using one hand to guide himself inside you, pushing the first, second, third inch in. Inevitably, he had to part from your mouth, a shuddered moan leaving his lips when you squeezed and pulsed around him. Your soft noises melted together with his when he pushed the rest of himself inside you, bottoming out. Carefully, his hand came up behind your head to cradle it softly, his other hand moving to your hip as he rocked into you, deeply, slowly. Every curve of his hips, every deep calculated thrust, had you keening. You were putty in his hands, he thought, as your legs wrapped around his waist. The way you chanted his name like a prayer, as if how he angled his hips and fucked you so gently was your own personal gospel, had him moaning your name breathlessly back. When your hips started meeting in time with his, he moved faster, harder, tucking your head in the crook of his neck with his gentle hold. "You feel– ah, so good, darling," Suguru breathed into your hair, kissing your temple. You didn't get a chance to say anything back, not when a particularly hard thrust knocked the wind out of you, a strangled cry ripped from your throat, now clawing at his back. He continued that pace, that strength, your cries and moans growing in volume and octave, now much louder than the music filling the room. Once again capturing your lips with his, he swallowed the desparate cries of please, Sugu, I'm gonna cum, greedily lapping your tongue with his. He couldn't help but swallow your noises, a long, needy moan dripping from his mouth into yours as you clamped down on his throbbing cock. The way you pulsed had him twitching, hips stuttering against yours as he came inside of you, white hot strings of seed painting the inside of your sensitive cunt. A few more thrusts had you whining, much too overstimulated. Just a bit more, darling, you feel so wonderful he cooed, his brows knitting when his hips finally stilled. There the two of you laid, Suguru's arms shaking as he struggled to keep himself above you. The way you looked into his eyes so lovingly was worth the strain, the way you reached up and gently stroked his cheek, the way you whispered. "Is it true? Did you mean it?" Suguru hummed inquisitively, the back of his hand stroking your sweaty temple. "That you love me, and you'd take care of me. Is it true?" He grinned, chuckling tiredly as you scanned his face for any hesitancy, any sign of inward betrayal. There was none. "Of course it's true, my beautiful shining star." Both of you had lost track of time, how long you laid on the living room floor holding each other was unknown. Suguru had, in that time, easily convinced you to pack your bags and run away with him. He promised you no more lonely nights, no more neglect, no more empty promises and shallow love. All you would know is happiness with him, he promised. He looked back at you, fingers holding the handle of your front door as he looked back at you and the suitcase you had in hand. He couldn't help but smile, and you mirrored his elated expression. When he opened the door, he noticed your expression drop, eyes wide with concern. Confused, Suguru turned his head, gaze met with the barrel of a handgun pointed directly between his eyes. Cerulean blue eyes bore into you, then into Suguru, finger steady over the trigger. There was no time to think, no time to move out of the way. Suguru looked back at you, meeting your panicked, teary eyes. He smiled sadly, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was only a gunshot, a scream, and then silence.

#suguru geto #suguru smut #geto smut #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #geto jjk #jjk smut #minors do not interact #anime x reader #anime smut

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littlefreya · 3 years

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Santa Baby

Summary: For over a decade, detective Walter Marshall kept a dirty little secret, thinking no one would ever find out about his past. Sadly for him, you are somewhat of a detective yourself.

Challenge prompt: the song Santa Baby.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Some sexy themes but mostly fluffy floof fluff.

A/N: This is for @toomanystoriessolittletime Christmas challenge, which I am sadly a day late with. Remind me to never sign up to challenges. I stumbled upon erotic book covers that looked a lot like Walter (this and this) so decided it’s a funny idea. I never read these books, so I am not mocking it or the artist who drew it. Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming for helping me out. Not beta’d, I own my mistakes.

Please feedback, comment, reblog if you enjoyed reading. 💖

Title: Santa Baby

It’s not that Detective Marshall was the Grinch or anything, it’s just that he couldn’t afford to be merry. With crime levels peaking during that time of the year, and sunlight being scarce, his body ran strictly on caffeine and stale doughnuts.

The temptation to spend Christmas eve sprawled on the worn-out leather sofa in his office was quite strong tonight. But even big hulking bears had their weaknesses, and as exhausted as he was, he dreaded every morning he woke up without your warm body curled up beside him.

With his energy level blinking red, he finally decided to call it a night and drive home. Heavy growling and thundering drums roared within his truck, the extreme Scandinavian black-metal he listened to served as a complete contrast to the soft snow that fell from the sky and quietly piled up on the sides of the road. Pausing at the street-light, he watched the little crystals striving to form on his windshield and melting just as quickly against the heat of the car.

For a single moment, all the terrors of the night diminished by the little flame that was the reminiscent of you - his little firefly who led him through the darkness, tender as snow and wild as fire. Accelerating just a tad, he imagined you’d be asleep by the time he’d get there, and if not, Walter hoped to at least be in your good graces.

Luckily, ther warm orange hues beaming through the windows assured him that you were still very much awake, and he couldn’t help but spare one of his rare smiles.

Muffled tunes of a familiar song played beyond the door, the bass vibrating through the polished wooden flooring and the walls. Slow and sensual like honey rolling off one’s finger, the jazzy beats filled the spacious house along with the sweetest scent of crushed peppercorn and red berries. Smiling wider, he held onto the doorframe and kicked off his heavy boots.

“Pet?” he called and followed into the living room, hearing you humming along with the lyrics.

“Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me.”

Oh, he was indeed in your good graces.

Sitting on your knees with your ankles hunched below your ass, you wore a velvety Santa hat and a sheer, red nighty finished by fake white fur that outlined your breasts. Your hands held a shiny green present over your thighs, and you gave him one of those coy looks that made him want to fall before you and pledge himself as your servant.

Instead, he crooked an eyebrow and unzipped his thick winter coat, carelessly discarding it on the floor and making his way toward you.

“Have you been an awful good girl?”

Sleeves rolled up; he crossed his muscular arms together while towering over you. His cobalt eyes drank in your sight, trying to decide what to do with you first. The scent of musky sweat mingled with dark cologne wafted over you within seconds, making your chest rise and sink in a primal instinct.

“Oh, I’m definitely going down your chimney tonight,” he growled upon your reaction to his presence and sucked in his bottom lip with growing hunger.

“At least three times,” you dared him in return and then casually lowered your gaze to the box perched on your lap.

The large man caught on the hint and carefully knelt before you. One of his hands reached to stroke his beard while his mind rummaged to figure out what surprise hid behind the shiny package.

“Got something for me over there?” he wondered with a playful beam, “I thought we’re not doing presents until tomorrow morning.”

“Just a little teaser,” you answered. Your eyes shone brighter than the large decorated tree that stood at the corner of the living room.

Being a detective, Walter could practically smell the mischief that drenched every teeny hair on your body. As usual, his naughty vixen was up to no good. It always made him laugh how bad you were in trying to surprise him, which worked in his favour. Walter hated surprises.

Intrigued, he snatched the gift from your hands and shook it against his ear for shy second before beginning to unwrap it. His eyes briefly scrutinised yours, darkening, smokey with lust while he tore at the chrome paper and absentmindedly threw pieces of green wrapping all over the living room.

You watched carefully, your cheeks rounding and filling, your teeth flashing with wickedness upon seeing the colour drain from his rugged face.

“Where…”

Walter paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. Fingers oily with sweat and knuckles turning white, dug into the object held in his hand.

“How did you find this?!”

The snort you’ve been trying to hold back for the last couple of minutes finally made its way out, followed by a fit of uncontrollable giggles that made you fall to your back with your hand held over your torso.

Walter, on the other hand, was anything but amused. He always feared the day someone would dig up his dirtiest secret.

It was more than a decade ago when he was struggling to pay his tuition to the police academy that Walter found an easy and quick way to make money. As a British immigrant who barely had friends and blended with the crowd, he made the mistake of thinking no one will ever know about his short-lived modelling career for cheesy erotic novels.

He should have known better. He might have been a professional police detective, but you had a skill for uncovering the truth.

“Where did you find this?” Walter repeated with a frown, clenching his jaw and waving the colorful book in the air.

Pausing your giggles merely for a second, you took a gander at the cover, focusing on the image of your dear husband’s open white shirt. There he was, the man you knew as a brooding, black-sweater wearing grump, lost in some green meadow with a half-naked chick. A deep dramatic gaze crisped his younger face, his nose inhaling the scent of her hair, and his hand laid flat upon her juicy rump.

Oh the drama!

You tried to speak, but all that came out of your mouth was an uncontrollable peal of chuckles. The corny title of the book didn’t help either; his fiery love rod.

Walter sulked and suddenly shuffled to hover above you, one hand snapped at your wrist before the other discarded the book onto your sternum and joined in restraining your other arm. Led purely by instinct, your legs spread to straddle his wide waist and wrapped around his muscular ass.

Staring at your strong, intimidating husband, the laughter rolling from your lips slowly died down, yet the smile was still smeared between your cheeks, especially once you felt his groin pressing into yours.

“Woman!” the big bear growled at you, “I am not going to ask you more than once, where on earth did you bloody find this?”

“The second-hand bookstore,” you answered and glanced at the book lying upon your chest, “was looking for something raunchy to read when suddenly I noticed a familiar face.” You explained and then swallowed the dryness in your throat.

“At first I thought I was hallucinating with all them Christmas carols eating into my brain, but then when I took a closer peek, I recognised my husband’s ‘fuck me’ stare.”

Walter felt a burn rising in his throat and swerving to tingle at his bristly cheeks. If there ever was a moment when he regretted a life decision, that moment was now. He knew he’d never hear the end of it from you. You were dauntless and unyielding as the ocean, one of the reasons why he was utterly in love with you.

Nostrils flaring, he tightened the grasp around your wrists and rolled his hips into yours, eliciting a small moan from your quivering lips. The thick bulge in his groin hardened at the calling of the hot, wet patch in your panties.

“Name your terms, woman.”

“You are going to read it to me,” you answered without even overthinking and gestured toward the book with your chin. “Every. night. before. bedtime. I want you to hold me in your big strong arms and read me a chapter from ‘his fiery love rod’, or else…”

“Or else?...”

The fire from the mental suddenly illuminated your face, causing dark shadows to form over your irises and the hollows below your brows. “Your friends at the MPD are going to find out about this one,” you paused, “and the 12 others that you made.”

Taken back by your words, Walter gulped, his fingers became moist around your wrists as sheer horror seeped into his mind.

“You... you know about the others?”

You nodded at him and then snaked your legs around the back of his thighs to cage him in your grasp like a fickle dryad growing her roots around a helpless wanderer. With his attention faltering, you twisted your hips and rolled the two of you so you were on top. Fingers lacing into his, you pinned him down and leered over him with cascading triumph.

“12 books, all under our Christmas tree, detective, so you better be good to me tonight and satisfy all my needs.”

Adam apple bobbing up and down, Walter watched you with a mixture of awe and agitation. There was nothing he hated more than losing control, but damn if he didn’t adore his wicked queen, especially when you were in a joyous mood, which, as he found, tended to be contagious. The moments in which the grouchy detective felt at peace were rare to non-existent. It was only in the embrace of your thighs that he thought that for a minute, everything is going to be okay.

Noticing the muscles of his jaw somewhat relax, you reached for the Christmas hat and slipped it off your head, placing it atop of his curly mess instead. Your hands held firmly onto Walter’s shoulders, and with a careful twist, you flipped the two of you over once again and shoved him down your torso while blissfully chanting.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry down the chimney tonight, hurry toniiiiiiiiiiight.”

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Disclaimer: I don’t own Night Hunter/Nomis or Walter Marshall

#henry cavill #StephsChristmasWritingChallenge #walter marshall x reader #henry cavill x reader #walter marshall

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echo-of-sounds · 3 years

Text

it’s okay to cry

Short drabbles of you comforting Aizawa, Toshi, and Gang Orca during a weak moment.

I feel like these aren’t as good as they could be. But I wanted to get something out today, so I hope you enjoy them. I also want to thank and credit @mrsvash for inspiring this piece and giving me the ideas for Toshi’s and Kugo’s!

Warnings: blood and vomiting/cough blood

Aizawa Shouta

“Hey,” you sighed at Shouta when he entered the apartment.

All you got was a grunt before he trudged into the bedroom. You didn’t expect a joyous homecoming, but you figured he’d be a little happy to see you. You’ve barely spoken to, let alone seen him, the past week. Every night you just got another text about his seventeen-hour day and hours of grading and what little sleep he’s gotten.

After a few stiff minutes, worry overcame you, sending you to find him. He was ripping a brush through his hair. It caught on a knot, provoking enough anger for him to launch it. Thankfully, it was towards the bed and not the wall.

You snatched it before he could. “Give it to me.”

“No.”

He growled your name.

“Shouta, I understand you’re angry, but don’t take it out on yourself like-”

“I’m not angry.”

“Okay, you’re not angry. Still, let me help you,” you muttered. He reluctantly accepted your hug. His entire body held tense under your hands. You pulled back and cupped his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. Strands of hair massed together. Red strained his eyes beyond their limit. Able to feel his exhaustion, you whispered, “I’m sorry, Sho. I know work’s been really hard on you lately. I hate seeing you like this.”

Bristles roughed along your palm as he nudged it. He spoke lower than you did, “I wish I could have one day without anything happening..”

“I know. I’m sorry it’s gotten to this point. You don’t deserve this stress.” You kissed his forehead, still petting his cheek. Next, you pecked his nose, grazing down to dried, cracked lips. They reacted to yours for a proper yet lazy kiss. His shoulders gave just a little.

You sat him on the bed where you crawled behind him, meticulously parting his hair into four sections. The separation helped minimize tugging when you began the long endeavor of brushing out the knots.

And it lasted for a good ten minutes. You could finally run your fingers through his hair catching no tangles. “Stay,” you told him when he was about to stand. He didn’t argue.

The bottle waited on the bureau. You grabbed it and retook your position. With plenty of lotion in hand, you lathered it across his shoulders and back. Strained and scarred skin soaked it up, no doubt appreciating the moisture as you rubbed it in, tenderly massaging his trapezius. You kept your fingers light since you did not know how overworked they were. From his sighs, you guessed it was pleasant.

“I love you.” You kissed his neck and pumped out more lotion for his lower back. Your thumbs kneaded along the middle muscles, earning a hiss that dulled into a handsome groan. Fingers pushed down and out. Lotion nourished abused skin. His shoulders yielded more and more.

“I’m so proud of you,” you hummed against his shoulder.

Sho placed his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands. The stifled sniffle told you everything. You didn’t need to see them. Knowing he was letting himself experience his emotions was all you wanted.

You put your legs around his waist, resting on his back, feeling his heat and quick breaths. Your lips continued with their kissing, your hands with their rubbing, occasionally cooing your love and praise.

Yagi Toshinori

You slowly opened the bathroom door, finding Toshinori curled up on the floor, hugging himself for warmth, sleeping on a towel. Trickles of blood fell from his lips, spotting the tiles. His scar appeared angrier, wrothing, disabling in the artificial light.

You softly shook his shoulder and whispered his name. He jarred awake, scanning for a fight. “It’s alright, baby. It’s just me.” You kissed the back of his hand then held it to your cheek. His skin was ablaze, warming your lips when you muffled into it, “It’s alright, Toshi. It’s alright.”

He struggled to sit up and slipped his hand away. The distance in his eyes chilled all the heat, sinking your heart because you knew what he was about to say: “Go to the living room. You don’t need to see this-”

“Toshi, don’t. Not today.”

“-This isn’t your problem.”

“Please.”

“I don’t want you to see-” Red leaked as he hacked into his hand. He moved for the toilet, choking, gagging out blood and bile. You rubbed his back, trying your best to soothe him through the flare. All the muscles in his torso seized. Skin rinsed in red and sweat. It strained his neck, flaring tendons, forcing water from his sunken eyes.

After one more heave, his body collapsed. He hardly had the strength to catch himself before his forehead smashed to the toilet seat. You guided him to rest against the wall so you could flush and wet a washcloth.

Toshi flinched from the cloth, his eyes snapping open again. He exhaled seeing it was you and let you calmly and gently wipe his face. His lips lowered at the quiet care, quivering from whatever stirred his mind while he stared at the ceiling.

A tear trailed down his cheek with his whimper, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this… with me. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve-”

“Shhh, honey.” You kissed his clammy forehead. “I don’t ‘deal with you.’ I love you. I help you and take care of you. And it’s okay to cry,” you mouthed, feeling a sting in your throat.

His eyes squeezed, and he took in a shaky breath.

“It’s okay. I know you’re in pain. I know it hurts. It’s okay to cry.”

And he did, folding his legs to his chest, mashing his palms to his eyes. Tears fell. Hiccups sounded. Little whimpers came next, “I hate this…”

You cautiously coddled him to your chest.

“I’m so tired of this…”

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” You brushed his hair from his face, revealing exhausted, destroyed eyes. Your lips pressed to his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

You traced his jaw, kissing and sighing against him. Long legs interlocked with yours. Specks of blood dotted your shirt. You paid it no mind, accepting the weight bearing down on you as he snuggled deeper into your chest, trying to shove the world away.

Despite the sweat and embrace, Toshi shivered. A towel was the best you could do. Though it only covered his shoulders and chest, barely able to fit his arms. You swaddled the rest of him with your body, sheltering red ears, rubbing exposed, goosebumped skin, and kissing tears and trembles, all while he whimpered of pain.

Gang Orca

The apartment door opened. Kugo’s footsteps plodded into the bedroom. You looked up from your book, smiling sympathetically at his disheveled appearance. “Hey, you’re home late. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” The way he yanked off his shirt and tossed his belt to the side told you he wasn’t, in fact, fine.

The bathroom door slammed behind him. The shower started. You left him alone through it, hoping it’d give him time to relax. But you did pick up his clothes, placing his underwear, shirt, and pants into the hamper, hanging up his vest, and straightening out his belt and tie. The suit’s jacket had a few rips on the sleeve. You set that aside. It could be easily repaired.

When the water stopped, another thing slammed. You heard Kugo swear through the door.

You knocked, asking, “Kugo, are you okay?”

The door blew open. You shuffled back. The temper that boiled so bright immediately ceased once his eyes landed on you. His shoulders dropped. His head hung. He rubbed his eyes, sighing, “I’m sorry. Today was… It was not good.”

“I’m sorry.” Your fingers reached for his, only able to wrap around two of them. “Do you want to talk-”

“No.”

Not needing an explanation, you nodded and brought him to the bed, undoing the towel before he laid down. When you rested beside him, he turned around. It worried you how he hid his face. Whatever was haunting him, you wanted to be there to help free.

Delicately and ready to pull away if needed, you reached for the large dorsal fin. Just as your skin touched his, his head moved. You froze. You watched and waited until he settled to try again. He remained still this time, allowing you to softly stroke the sensitive fin, smoothing to his neck and shoulders, observing the strong muscles twitching so faintly under your fingers.

Kugo’s hum was indistinct. A glint shined from his eye. You thought you imagined it, but then another came. You flattened to his back and embraced his frame, kissing the line of where black met white, eventually ebbing to the corner of his mouth.

Your lips caressed the patch of white around his eye and lifted the tear that threatened to fall. You hushed, “I love you.”

Massive fingers weaved with yours, bring your hand to rest on his heart. You nuzzled into his neck, laid your leg on his waist, swathing him the best you could, and listened to the subtle sniffles, comforting him between tears.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #all might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha #tw blood #tw vomiting

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