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moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

hi gorgeous!!

could i request poly!marauders with a reader who has been avoiding them a bit? she’ll text and call them, but not see them in person? maybe she tells them she’s really busy and they finally get her to come over or maybe catch her somewhere out n about and find her with a ~mysterious~ black eye? she finally ends up telling them abt it and she’s so embarrassed by how she’s got it and didn’t want them to fret over her? they poke fun of her a little, but it ends with hugs or cuddles on the couch?

(this is so definitely not self indulgent!! i absolutely do NOT have a black eye currently because i was wearing fluffy socks and tripped over my own foot and went flying into a doorknob!!! pfffftt, what kind of idiot would you have to be to pull that off…)

Hope the black eye you don't have is healing well babe!

cw: injury/bruise

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 984 words

“She said she was too busy to even come over for breakfast this morning,” Remus frets. “I don’t know if we should be bothering her.”

“She’s putting too much on herself,” James says certainly, can-do attitude in place and a bag of your favorite pastries in hand. “She won’t let herself relax, and it’s our job to help with that.” Remus only chews his lip, so he looks to Sirius for backup. “Right, Pads?”

“Sure.” Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know, I still think she’s avoiding us. Any plan that gets us to see her sounds good to me.”

“Well, don’t talk like we’re about to bust down her door,” Remus says, rolling his eyes as they come to a stop in front of your place.

“Course not.” Sirius grins, and slams his fist extra-loud against your door to make Remus squirm. James smothers a laugh when he hears a curse from inside, the sound of something falling to the floor, and then shuffling footsteps headed in their direction.

“Hi.” You sound surprised, half of your face visible in the crack of the door. That’s…oddly shy, for you, and the first threads of concern begin to wind their way around James’ ribcage. Has he or one of the others done something to upset you? Maybe Sirius is right, and you have been avoiding them. “What’re you guys doing here?”

“Hi, sweetheart.” James gives you his most guileless smile, holding up the bag of pastries. “You’ve been working so hard lately, we thought we’d bring you a treat.”

You all but melt against the doorframe, the eyebrow James can see scrunching in a cute pout. “Aw, thank you.”

“Can we come inside for a bit?” he asks, but Sirius is already pushing at the door, nudging you out of the way as he invites himself in.

You flinch away from the door as Sirius says, “Christ, angel, we haven’t seen you in so long I’d begun to think you were…” he trails off, and Remus and James both hurry in behind him to see why. The half of your face that had been obscured a second ago by the doorframe (intentionally obscured, James realizes now) is marred by a dark, purple-and-yellow bruise.

Remus inhales softly, all three of your boyfriends nearly frozen in place.

Sirius has gone tense all over, but his voice is gentle. “How’d that happen, baby?”

It doesn’t help matters that you get so clearly anxious at the question. “I—um, okay.” You look at them abashedly, shoulders gravitating towards your ears. “It’s not as bad as it looks, but you can’t get mad.”

Sirius sucks his teeth, eyes darkening. James knows his mind is running through all the various people you could be asking them to not get mad at for doing this to you; he’s thinking along similar lines. “Why would we be mad?” Sirius asks, noncommittal.

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, going to sit on the couch. “I, uh. I ran into the kitchen and hit myself on the cabinet door.”

Remus hisses through his teeth. “Fuck, honey, the corner?” He sits down next to you, angling your face towards the light. “Is that where this little scrape is from?” His thumb brushes over the small cut with painful tenderness, and James watches with satisfaction as you go so soft you nearly forget to answer him. You give a nod, and Remus hums sympathetically.

“Jesus, babe.” James leans closer to peer at it. “That’s gotta hurt.”

Sirius pouts at you, sitting on the back of the couch. “Why would you think we’d be mad about that, darling?”

The look you give Remus is guilty enough that he withdraws his hand, raising his eyebrows at you.

“You know how you tell me not to run in my fuzzy socks?” you ask him.

Remus’ lips twitch, but he narrows his eyes at you sternly. “I do.”

You shrink away. “Well, I was sort of sliding around in those when it happened.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but he lets his lips twist into a begrudging half-smile. “Christ. Learned your lesson now?”

“Learned not to leave cabinet doors open when I do it,” you say, and James tugs you to his front protectively as Remus lets loose an appalled sound that’s somewhere between exhale and laugh.

“Our poor sweetheart,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the unharmed skin beside your bruise. “I can’t believe you avoided us for days just because you didn’t want Remus to be upset with you. You’re rivaling Sirius for dramatics with that one, lovie.”

“Oi.” Sirius jabs at your side meanly with his foot. “Don’t start taking my titles. There can only be one master of theatrics in this relationship.”

You draw your knees to your chest, entirely in James’ lap now, and he suspects you’re snuggling closer to him because you prefer his coddling to the other boys’ teasing. He’s more than happy to indulge you, brushing his lips ever so gently over the colorful skin by your eye and giving you a good squeeze with his arms around your middle.

Sirius makes a soft pitying sound. “That really looks awful. Did you at least put ice on it?”

You blink up at him, and James wants to chide you and smother you with love at the same time. Remus looks like he feels the same, the exasperation of his sigh diminished greatly by the fondness in his look as he gets up. “You’ve got a pack of peas in the freezer, don’t you, love?”

You confirm, and Sirius takes Remus’ place on the couch, squinting his eyes at you playfully. “You’re not allowed to avoid us when you’ve hurt yourself ever again. Clearly, you can’t handle it on your own.”

You seem like you could disagree, but James takes the opportunity to attack you with kisses again, and you don’t protest much after that.

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happy-beeeps · 2 months

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Sweat it out

Summary: tav comes down with a nasty flu, and one of her travel companions begins to worry... and maybe realize his feelings

WC: 1.3k

warnings: none i think! idiots in love

f!tav x reader

It’s quiet outside Astarion’s tent as he paces back and forth. Halsin has been inside with you for far too long, and the lack of communication has him worried. How long has it been since he hasn’t ended the night with your words, your breath near his? Weeks, months?

He doesn’t like to think of it. In fact, he’s doing an excellent attempt at thinking about anything else as he paces, and fails to notice the clatter of their camp members walking over to him.

“Chin up soldier, the rest of us seem okay, it probably has nothing to do with her tadpole.”

“Karlach is right,” Gale agrees, “it seems unlikely that the rest of us would be spared the same fate if this truly was connected to our wormy affliction. She will pull through.”

As much as it pains him to admit it, Gale is right. For all logical sense, this should have nothing to do with the mind flayers—but the thought offers little comfort (few things hinging on Gale’s ideas rarely do.)

It has started this morning, you had remarked how your head felt wrong. You felt wrong. You had ignored it, had soldiered on. As the day progressed, you complained of aches that had not been there, of chills that ran down your arms. Your skin grew pallor, covered in a sheen of sweat. By the end of the night, a cough ragged at your chest, and you could do nothing f else but whimper to yourself. The slightest motion had set tears out of your eyes, your skin burning itself to rid your body of whatever was happening.

Only Halsin, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart accompanied you now, the two healers were working overtime on an attempt to find your ailment, and Lae’zel was not easily persuaded to leave behind one of her dearest friends.

Astarion thinks of the dagger pressed to poor Wyll’s throat when he kindly attempt to guide her towards a spot nearest the fire.

He’s worried about you. This isn’t new, he’s made peace with the reality that he cares for you, he just hasn’t figured out how to say it. Now, he fears the opportunity may be slipping from him.

It’s Halsin’s booming voice that calms his nerves, he and the other two step out from the tent, his grin palpable even from where Astarion is standing. “She’ll be fine. It’s a nasty virus, I’ve given her a brew to aid in the healing, and I’ve created tonics for the rest of us.”

As he passes them out, Shadowheart walks up to Astarion, who is quickly making his way towards your tent. “You… don’t need a tonic. On the account of you being, you know. Not really alive.”

“You’ve got such a way with words, really,” he breathes, but his eyes flicker to the flap of your tent, “so I can go see her?”

Lae’zel speaks up, placing a firm pat on his arm as she walks by, “she’s certainly been asking for you.”

* * *

You have two clear, feverish trances.

The first is of your mother. A memory that’s not uncommon, one you drift back to anytime you attempt to rest an illness away. Its familiarity brings comfort as you attempt to sweat this bug out, and ignore Halsin and Shadowheart’s proding over your body.

The other is… newer. One you hadn’t expected. You’re in a secluded section of camp, feet tapping against the water, skin swathed in moonlight. Your wearing nothing other than a long, white shirt, unlaced dangerously along the neck. This is no more than two days ago.

You follow the memory along, watch from your eyes as you trace circles along your bare thighs, until you look to your side. Astarion is there, eyes swimming with emotion, as he gnaws on his lip.

Memory Astarion reaches out, grabbing your hand, weaving your fingers together. “I’m glad you’ve convinced me to stick around after our escapades, you are entirely addicting.”

Memory you leans against him, pressing your weight against his. His skin is cool, the chill sending tiny bumps along your exposed legs. “I’m glad you’ve decided to humor me, Star.”

You’re mortified when your eyes flutter open, your mouth in the process of muttering his name, to realize he’s here. Next to you. In your tent. As you sweat through probably a third pair of smallclothes.

“You rang?” He’s cheeky when he speaks, but his hand goes to palm your stomach quickly, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re here, you’re still you. The concern is sweet, and it sends an all new kind of flush across your body.

“Feel so sick, Star.” Shit. Is that tiny little voice coming from you?

He moves then, gentler than he’s ever moved before, carefully contorting his body around yours and pressing you against him. In an instant, it’s like a salve to your soul. You’re covered in him—his smell, his weight, his temperature. The chill itself is a whole other soothe to your aches.

“I know you are darling, but Halsin said you’ll be better soon.”

“Can’t get you sick,” a cough takes your lungs briefly, “who’s gonna pick the locks for us then?”

He laughs, and smooths a few stray hairs out of your face. “I won’t. Officially medically cleared, according to Shadowheart. On the account of my ‘not being alive.’”

You move to nod your head, but the pain makes you stop. Astarion is quick, and he cushions the movement with his hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I hear you were dreaming about me?”

“Maybe. Lots of trances. You know how it goes.”

“Was it particularly scandalous? Is that why my little love is so keen to swear?”

“Don’t have it in me to hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s a calm silence that takes you next, Astarion stroking your hair as you listen to the distant clamor of your friends. You break it, after another moment.

“I remembered my mother.”

You don’t often talk about your family, and he knows this. He moved just slightly so you can see his face, curiosity and warmth covering his eyes. “What was it?”

“When I was little, I got sick, nothing bad but still sick. My mother, she’d rub my hair and sing to me,” you pause to close your eyes, as if you could will her here right now, “she’d go to our kitchens and shoo the cooks out, she’d make me her special soup, and when she brought it to me she’d promise me she’d teach me one day.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was. Smart too. She always knew things about me that I didn’t know.”

“Oh, like what?” Astarion’s face shimmers with a laugh and you use the last bit of your strength to attempt a shrug and burrow into his chest.

“She used to tell me she knew I’d end up with someone older. Don’t know if she knew how old.”

After your words, as if in cue, your chest begins its steady rise and fall, and Astarion recognizes the twitch in your fingers. You’re trancing again. Which means he’s stuck with your words and their heavy implications.

Still, with the way your overheating body simmers against his cold touch, he resolved that he doesn’t mind their weight, not at all. In fact, he’d like more of your burden.

You don’t slip out of your trance that night, but feel the briefest ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

When sunlight rolls around, your eyes blink awake. You’re weak, you can feel it, but better. You go to sit up, but realize quickly Astarion’s weight is still against you, one arm cradling your head to his chest, one arm twisted beneath you.

You’ve never quite felt so comfortable, so held. You don’t remember what you told him last night, don’t remember exactly what he said. Instead, you decided to live in this moment now, and pray to all the gods you’ll get to relive it again soon.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 fic #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader

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colourstreakgryffin · 4 months

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Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owns you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 month

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The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter ▪︎ next chapter

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

Read part six here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #the avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan #the bolter

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actuallysaiyan · 1 month

Text

Thank You(Scarred!Rengoku Kyojuro x Fem!Slayer!Reader)

warnings: trauma, mentions of death, wounds, blood, smut, unprotected sex, angst, sadness, fluff, Mugen Train Spoilers, AU word count: 2.3k pairings: Scarred!Rengoku Kyojuro x Fem!Slayer!Reader summary: after Kyojuro survives the events of the Mugen Train incident, he finds himself hoping for someone better to come sweep you off your feet. what Kyojuro doesn't realize is that you are with him, for better or for worse. a/n: IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN! PLEASE I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!!!!

Dividers by the loverly @benkeibear

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @benkeibear @misty-angerose @adharadotcom

Since the incident that happened with the Mugen Train, Kyojuro wondered how many days he had left. He hated thinking that way, but he couldn’t help but think about how he was always inches away from death. He just barely managed to avoid death that time, and now he was trying to heal so he could get right back to being the flame Hashira.

But something had been more pressing than that. Even though he lost his left eye and sustained some deep internal wounds, his love for you never faltered. He found himself thinking of not only his mother, but also you, during his final moments. Or at least, what Kyojuro had believed to be his last moments. And when he had bestowed his advice on the young Kamado, Kyojuro felt his life fading fast.

The one thing he hadn’t been expecting was to see your beautiful face as he felt his life slipping away. You weren’t happy though, no you were desperate. You began treatment on him immediately, using a potion from Shinobu. She had been the one to tell you that your lover had gone on to fight the demon plaguing the Mugen Train.

The next thing Kyojuro remembers is waking up in the Butterfly Mansion. His whole body ached, he couldn’t see out of his left eye and he was tired. But he didn’t think he was going to make it out alive from that battle. He remembered the way young Kamado was so fed up with the way the demon had gotten away. He remembered the determination on your face too.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Shinobu comments as she enters the room. Kyojuro feels so disoriented.

“Mmm…yes.”

Shinobu begins taking his vitals, checking his healing. When she feels satisfied with the way things are going, she begins to change his bandages. While she’s taking care of him, Kyojuro inquires about your wellbeing and how things happened after he passed out from the bloodloss.

“You were so lucky she was there,” Shinobu finally says.

Kyojuro swallows hard, “I know that. I owe her my life.”

Shinobu leaves, telling him that lunch will be served momentarily. He lies in the bed, feeling a little better now that his bandages have been changed and that Shinobu had given him something for the pain. He thinks about you, wondering where you are.

The door opens and there you are. You look inside the room, worried about what you might find. You’ve been missing your lover. You worried day and night about him, unsure if you’d ever get to look at his beautiful face once more. You wondered if you’d ever hear the sound of his voice.

You rush over to him, tears in your eyes. He doesn’t even know what to say. He lets you crumble in his arms, and he lets you press kisses to his wounded and scarred face.

“Oh my flame…” you whisper. “I thought—I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Precious little flame,” Kyojuro murmurs back. “I am happy to see you again.”

You cup his face, careful not to put too much pressure on any of his wounds. Then you press your lips to his, savoring the way he tastes. You swore to yourself that you’d never forget this taste. You’d never forget the way he smells like scorched earth and bonfires. The way he’s always warm, even on cold nights. Tears cascade down your cheeks.

“I love you, Kyojuro. I never wanted you to go on that mission.”

Kyojuro chuckles, “You know that I needed to go. I’m a Hashira. I’m meant to protect the innocent.”

You cry even harder, making his face screw up in pain. He hates hearing you cry. He hates seeing you in pain like this. Kyojuro sits up and he gathers you up in his arms. Even if his bones and muscles scream out in pain, he doesn’t care. What matters most to him is to be able to hold you so close.

“I’m scared to lose my lover,”

Your words pierce his heart. He knows what it means to have this heavy burden placed on his shoulders. His father had quit being the Hashira because of the death of his mother. Kyojuro had watched the man crumble so quickly, taking up alcohol as a way to cope. He wonders if maybe you’d end up like that if you were to lose him.

“You won’t lose me. I promise,”

The next few weeks consist of you helping Kyojuro return to the closest to normal as he can. He’s mostly been relieved of his duties as a Hashira for the time being. He’s healing up well, but something sits deep in his heart. He wonders if maybe you should find someone else.

Not only are you attending to his every need now, you’re just wasting your precious time with him. You could be happier with someone else. You could make someone very lucky. It hurts Kyojuro so deeply when he begins to imagine you with someone else.

Late at night when everyone has gone to sleep and you’re sleeping in his arms now that Shinobu has given the okay for this, Kyojuro admires your beauty. He admires your strength and your courage. Then he thinks about you marrying someone else. He’s no fool, he knew he should have perished in his last battle. He should have died.

Kyojuro cannot bring himself to even imagine making you his bride. The thought of turning you into such a young widow. It makes him ache so deep inside. He weeps silently, wishing things could be different for the both of you. He thinks about how he’s going to break things off with you. It’s what should happen. You could be so much happier.

The thing is, Kyojuro didn’t realize that you were so determined to keep him close to your heart. One day as the two of you are walking through the wisteria trees, you turn to face your lover.

“Kyo, you know that I absolutely adore you, correct?”

He smiles softly, “I do know this, my little flame.”

His jaw drops when he sees you kneeling in front of him. A beautiful silver band sits in your hands as you present to him this ring. It’s engraved with someone’s name on it, but he doesn’t recognize it.

“I know I shouldn’t be the one to do this.” You try to clarify. “It should be the man. But I love you, and I’m not about to lose you. Please…marry me.”

Kyojuro feels his stomach doing flips. He looks at the beautiful ring you have presented him. He looks at the sincerity in your eyes and it just breaks his heart. You deserve better than someone cracked and broken.

“My little flame,” he helps you to your feet. “I couldn’t…I shouldn’t…”

Your heart shatters at the response. It’s not at all what you were expecting. Tears began to well up in your eyes. You don’t know how to process the words that have just come from your lover.

“D-do you not…do you not love me?”

It was his turn for his heart to shatter. The thought of you even thinking he doesn’t love you was enough to make him tremble. Tears slide down his cheeks as he gathers you up in his arms. You try to squirm to get away, which makes him feel even more guilty.

“I do love you. I love you so much, I’d give you the moon and the stars if you asked it of me.” Kyojuro explains through sobbing and hiccuping. “I’d give you anything you want. I just think you deserve better than me. I’m broken and I’m not good enough for you.”

You shake your head in defiance. “Kyojuro, you are my heart and my soul. You are more than good enough for me.”

Then you cup his face in your hands. It’s been a while since his bandages have been taken off, but he still suffers from nerve damage and sensitivities. He shudders at your touch, loving the way your softness always comes through. He nuzzles his face in the palms of your hands, sighing.

“I am broken.” He finally manages to say. “You need someone who could make you happy.”

You scoff, “You are the one who makes me happy. You are the one I need.”

Kyojuro finally opens his eyes. The left one doesn’t work, only able to see grayscale in that one. He can see very vague shapes through it. But he knows what you look like from memory. Even if he lost his sight completely, he would still know the beauty and grace that has blessed you.

“I wouldn’t want you to regret it.”

You shake your head, “Marrying my lover would never be a regret.”

The day fast approaches. Kyojuro wonders if he’ll look presentable for you. He knows that his father has allowed you and him to wear the family’s traditional wedding clothes, but he still feels like a complete failure to his family and to you.

“Kyojuro,” Shinjuro enters the room. “Are you prepared?”

Kyojuro is touched to see his father looking so well-groomed for the first time in what seems like forever. He smiles, tears filling his eyes once more. Shinjuro is shocked, but he feels this tenderness coming from his eldest son. Shinjuro approaches his son, smoothing down the folds in his garment.

“You will be a good husband. You are patient, caring, sweet and understanding. You have inherited the best qualities from me and your mother, just like your brother has.”

Kyojuro wipes his eyes, pulling on the eyepatch to cover the damaged eye. Shinjuro smiles sweetly, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. He doesn’t remember the last time he was this affectionate with Kyojuro. It feels so good to know his son has survived and is taking a good woman as his bride.

“You will be blessed. This I know.”

Kyojuro exits his dressing room and he’s guided towards the shrine that your marriage will take place in. Shinjuro guides him to the altar, and then he takes his spot off to the side.

All eyes are on you as you arrive. You walk down towards the altar, looking like an angel dressed in your all-white shiromuku. Kyojuro’s eyes widen when he sees you. You’re the most precious thing in his life, and here you are, walking towards him so you can get married.

The wedding officiant begins the ceremony which will join you and Kyojuro forever. You will be bound together.

Everyone is in tears by the time you two share a kiss. They have never witnessed such a wonderful union in their lives. All your friends are so happy for the both of you.

By the time the wedding is over, you know that you have no regrets. You have made the best choice for yourself. You adore Kyojuro and nothing could ever change that for you.

Kyojuro had been worried that you wouldn’t want to be intimate with him. He had his doubts that you even saw him as attractive anymore. But every doubt and worry and insecurity was tossed out the window the minute you two were relaxing in the onsen in your honeymoon suite.

You straddled his lap gently, kissing him on the lips. Your hands caressed and massaged his muscles, making him feel aroused. His cock twitched to life with every single searing kiss you gave him.

Your tongues tangled together, swapping saliva. His breath feels hot on your skin whenever you pull away to breathe. Soft pleas fall from your reddened and swollen lips.

“I want you,” you purr. “I need to feel you.”

Kyojuro is shocked, but his heart skips a beat. He feels the way you touch him, and he knows you are being very truthful. With renewed strength, your husband picks you up and brings you over to the bed. He crawls on top of you, the lust and love written all over his face.

He kisses you passionately, cupping your face between his calloused hands. His nose rubs against yours, dragging down your cheek as he finds other places to kiss you. Your body feels so hot, so electrified. Every touch and every kiss is mesmerizing.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathes out as he kneads your breasts.

“As you are,” you compliment him. “You look just as beautiful as the day I met you.”

This makes his heart swell with love. Despite everything he was thinking before he married you, he can see that you adore him. You want the best for him, and you happen to be the absolute best for him.

You watch through half-lidded eyes as he suckles on your nipples, then he presses open-mouthed kisses down your body. Kyojuro lets out a growl when he spreads your thighs and he takes a greedy inhale of your scent. You are divine, intoxicating, sweet and musky. It’s all too much for him, he feels like he could lose himself completely to you.

He laps at you like a man who’s been in the desert for ages and you are his oasis. Your nectar dribbles on his lips and tongue, making him moan as he tastes you so fervently. Kyojuro expertly pulls two orgasms from you with just his mouth alone. Then he settles himself on his knees, ready to push into you.

The stretch is delicious and leaves you feeling full. He kisses away all your tears, praising you for taking him so well. Both of you are unable to last long now that you’re making love, and your orgasm makes him tumble over the edge quickly.

Soft kisses and whispered words of praise are what end the first night as a newlywed couple, and when you awake the next day, you see the man you adore in the shining light of the sun peeking through the curtains.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he says, his heart heavy with love.

You kiss his lips. “I’d never give up on you. Because you’ve never given up on me.”

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yeosbbm · 8 months

Text

Since Way Back…

Smut | MDNI

starring: toxic! wooyoung x moving forward! reader

genre: smut, reconnecting, exes to lovers, pinch of angst

summary: Wooyoung had a lot on his plate and due to feeling overwhelmed broke up with you, soon after seeing you out with someone else… he realizes he never really was over you..one of his attempts to win you back leads to you and him together in a hotel bed.

warnings/prevs: wooyoung toxic more so toxic in a sense he won’t let go, mirror sex, mentions of drinking, mention of masturbation, praise, dirty talk, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, protected piv

A/N: hey guys this week I haven’t been feeling well so the push it series has been paused, but a yunho fic will be out tmr LOVE YALL ! ciao 🫶🏾

“I feel like this is just what’s best for us you know?.”

Like a scene out of a terrible romance movie, he invited you over and you both drank coffee. The conversation started with a bland “how are you” “where’ve you been” exchange..you knew something was up within the past 3 months. Then he says it..crushing you. You had to keep yourself from dropping your cup and crying.

“I think we should break up..I just can’t pull you into everything that’s going on with me…I feel like this is just what’s best for us you know ?.” You sat wordlessly, biting your lip as if it’d burst. You both got through it, talking it out and sharing a last final embrace before you left the dorms.

He was able to date you through company policy but unable to be seen with you. Having to make you sign an NDA as if you were a painful secret. That with schedules, exhaustion, his mental, and life in general. He didn’t want you to get caught up in it. He didn’t want to press his stress and burdens onto you..and he felt that it was unfair. Unfair that he has to secretly refer to you..unfair you two can only go out if it’s dark out..unfair he can’t post and gloat about you, unfair he can’t love you how you deserve..so he thought it was best to let you go.

It’s been 6 months. You’ve had to piece yourself together. You got a new job as a brand ambassador, you have a workout routine, you go on walks/jogs now, you journal, you’ve been going on dates..though your feelings for them are short lived and still don’t compare to him yet.

“Healing” phase as most call it. Tonight you have another date that you met through a mutual friend.

You have on a black slip dress, light makeup and some cute wedges. You walked into the restaurant and search around for your date. You find him and you both talk and eat. However, it just wasn’t clicking. The conversation felt so one sided and it was as if he cared more about taking you home with him than getting to know you.

And of course, as if the universe wanted to play a funny but horrid joke on you two, Wooyoung walks into the same restaurant. He’s with San and Yeosang..they’re dressed somewhat smart but not anything too loud or else they’d be recognizable.

Wooyoung, looks around the restaurant with its low white light helping with the dim and minimalist design. Luxury but somewhat, bleak. However, something was pulling at him..his intuition made him seek something out. His eyes scan across the space, eyes darting across the many tables and people. Finally as if a blackhole controlled his vision… sucked all of his attention and gaze onto you.

His heart caved in. Seeing you there, your presence and beauty putting him in a state of pain and adoration. A peaceful harmony that gets squashed once he sees your plus one. You’re touching that guys arm..you’re smiling at him ? Wooyoung sees this guy’s gaze drinking you in, the same way he used to. He doubts that this guy sees the things he saw in you though.

Yeosang notices Wooyoung’s stare and his pause at the dining room entrance, “Everything ok ?” Yeosang whispers to Woo.

“Yea yea let’s find the table.” Wooyoung says with a shake of his head beginning to walk off.

San nudges Yeosang and lightly points over to your table. “Fuck..did you know she’d be here.” San shakes his head with his eyebrows raised in mutual surprise.

Later that night, you went home alone luckily after coming up with an excuse good enough to not go home with your date. Then you get a notif from “Kpop News” about an ateez member sighting and realize Wooyoung was just at the same restaurant…

Wooyoung couldn’t sleep that night. He tossed and turned; memories of you kept invading his head.

Your laugh, your love and care, the inside jokes and how your presence calmed him. A painful twinge hits his chest. Your curves, legs, lips..the way you cried out his name and how he’d have you shaking. He looks down and sees the tent in his pants. He had to relieve himself in the shower.

-The Next Morning-

“….Roses..?” You stare at the bouquet that was at your front door and inspect it. It was a beautiful combination of red roses, baby’s breath and black lace bows. You see a notecard stamped to the wrapping reading, “You looked lovely last night, hope you’re well.” You quirk a brow and assume your date was the one who sent it.

“Last night was nice and the roses are beautiful.” You texted and got a quick reply back.

“Roses ?”

You think he’s probably doing a little joke about not knowing about the roses but then you get a text, assuming it’s him admitting to his ruse but no, it’s from an unlabeled number.

“Did you get the flowers ?”

“Yess but who is this ?” Your mind ponders on who could send them anonymously, and which date would go out of their way to surprise you like this. Then it clicks, and your heart stops and you stare at your phone incredulously.

“Wooyoung ? …”

“Can we talk or can I see you sometime.” Sent . Wooyoung put his phone down without the screen facing up. He’s in the middle of a meeting with the members. Yeosang can sense what’s up. “A flower bouquet is bold…don’t you think” Wooyoung quits biting his nails and looks up at Yeosang annoyed. “I’m not getting back with her we just need closure.”

Translating to, he needs to see you again because watching you give yourself to someone else is eating at him. “Closure ? Sending roses is not what closure is,,” Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders, “So ?” Yeo rolls his eyes and begins to rub his forehead. “It’s ok to want her back Wooyo but be honest with yourself.” San reassures while patting his back.

“ You guys don’t understand...that guy she was with….absolute sleaze.” Wooyoung tried his best to hide his frustration.

“That doesn’t mean interfere with her love life now after 6 whole months..”

“Plus you’ve had your share of sleazy girls since then.” San carefully reminds Woo.

“ First of all there’s been one girl and it lasted 4 days max she was rude and showy and full of herself and…ANYWAYS.” How stressed he is has fully became transparent. “I just think she needs someone better and not as lame or boring..(like me).”

“What.” Yeosang clocked the last part immediately, his bestfriend was down bad.

Ding. You replied to Woo’s message. Wooyoung and Yeosang looked up at each other. “Well…answer her.” “Shit. What if she said no.” Woo covers his face with his hands “Then you’ll have to leave her alone.” Woo checks it, and makes a face of confusion. “She said ‘Meet and talk about what.”

You sat there staring at your phone and sigh. It’s not the first time Woo has interacted since the break up. He’d check on you every now and again. It is sweet but would sometimes make your chest hurt all over again.

You’re torn on meeting with him because the chances of you bringing your hopes up and it being a disaster, as well as it being better than you thought but the possibility of getting lost in old emotions and ruining your progress.

Fuck it.

“You have to respond to get a solid answer.” San chimes in.

“Well should I tell her just to talk and something to drink or-”

Ding.

“She- she texted again” Wooyoung stares at the notification appalled.

“…well…..LOOK AT IT ?” San says while whacking Woo on the shoulder. All Wooyoung did was stutter and fumble his phone.

“Jesus Christ Woo.” Yeosang whispers sliding his hand down his face, exhausted from the ridiculousness. Yeosang picks up the phone and raises his brows.

“She said you could meet her, you need to choose the time and place.”

Hongjoong begins scolding the trio of guys for having a sidebar convo during the meeting. Whilst Hongjoong is lecturing them, Woo mentally starts planning for the date.

-The Date-

Wooyoung chose for you to meet him at this newer restaurant. He actually put a lot of thought into the meet. He sent you a dress a few days before once again leaving a note. “Can’t wait to see you in it.”

You were surprisingly excited about the date. You initially dreaded it because you couldn’t tell if when you saw Wooyoung if you’d cry or want to punch him in the chest. Plus the day before the you and your previous date got into a heated hurtful argument that had you emotional. So maybe seeing Wooyoung will help you feel better.

You walk into the restaurant early, needing time to prepare for seeing him face to face again. You talk to the hostess, “Hello I’m here for a reservation under the name Jung Wooyoung.” She types it out on her server, “Oh ! Yes, your plus one is already at the table.” God. You walk to your table and see Wooyoung sitting there.

He looks terribly handsome. You’re hoping you don’t look like a hopeless dope staring at him. You both chirped quick hellos to each other, Wooyoung is smiling which of course, is so contagious you smile as well. You take a seat and can smell his cologne. “You look gorgeous,,I’m glad you came to see me.” You fix your hair a bit and adjust yourself in your seat, all you can do is utter a “Thanks.” Your nerves were killing you and Wooyoung could tell. “Are you nervous..I know it’s been a while but it’s just me.”

You shrug and cross your legs. Wooyoung uses your lack of attention on him to stare at your body. He knew this dress would be the best fit. “Idk I guess I’m not sure how to feel about seeing you again.” You look up to see Wooyoung staring he’s observing you. He quickly grabs his glass and gestures the waiter over to pour you both a drink. “I understand what you mean…I’m nervous too…when I saw you a few days ago my heart dropped to my feet.” You remember the headlines about him being at the same restaurant.

He passes you your drink and takes a firm hold of his. He lifts it up. “But, anyway,, cheers to us getting over our fears.” Your heart isn’t speeding due to you finally relaxing. Wooyoung still looks handsome, flashing his prince like grin towards you. “Cheers.”

- Time skip -

It has been hours and you and Woo were still at the restaurant. Drinks upon drinks have been poured for you both but luckily, neither of you were drunk. Even little phases of being tipsy has passed. You guys talked about everything and reminisced about the past. The physical distance between you closed while you sat directly by him. This is the best conversation you had at a date in months.

Wooyoung was finishing a joke up before you both broke out in laughter you leaning into him and hiding your face in his shoulder. This made his heartthrob and he’s back to staring at you with heart eyes, you’re too caught up in your laughter to notice of course. You two’s laughter finally settles while you both returned to sipping your drinks.

“So..what about that guy…that you’re with.” You look up from your now half empty drink and squint. “Guy I’m with ?…I’m not seeing anyone ?” Wooyoung bites his lip and taps his hand on the table. “The guy at the restaurant.”

The argument you had with him the other day replays in your mind “..yea I don’t think I want to talk about him.” Wooyoung’s hand that’s next to your’s fully slides over on top and lightly squeezes. “If he did anything to you know I’ll ask the guys if-” You take your other hand from your drink and place it on his shoulder. “Wooyoung no, no we just got into an argument..we just didn’t mix well.” Woo relaxes a bit.

“What was the argument about..if I can be nosy…” You want to call his question nosy but you know you REALLY had to vent. “He thought we were taking things too slow, so stupid, we argued at a drive in and I cried. Ugh.” Wooyoung has to keep himself from clenching his jaw and balling his fist, the mere thought of someone talking to you sideways still angers him. “You don’t deserve that at all that guys a damn idiot.” However, through his anger he realizes this is a great opportunity plus when you two were together he’d always use humor + flirting to cheer you up.

“I remember when we argued I never made you cry..except you know every now and again.” Wooyoung smirks a bit. “You never made me cry when fighting what do you mean.” You laugh while trying to remember when he made you have anything but happy tears. Wooyoung leans back, manspreading his hand on your knee. “I mean in bed….”

A flash of heat runs across your face, you can’t tell if it’s from the margarita or flashbacks. Flashbacks of you falling apart on his dick and becoming a pliant mess for him. Tears welling in your eyes from pleasure while being praised by him.

Wooyoung’s eyes are on you and he licks his lips. You attempt to ignore his stare. “Of course that’s what you meant.” You turn your head away and wave the waiter over to bring another drink. Wooyoung is tracing light shapes into your knee and upper thigh, something you haven’t noticed till now and once again..must ignore.

Wooyoung sees the look on your face..it’s a face he knows all too well. When you’re starting to get needy.

“Is he as good.” Woo’s head is tilted and a sly smile plastered on his face. “At what..as a person..no he’s super shallow and lowkey is a fuckboy but..” You pause because of Woo’s chuckle.

“What’s so funny.” You’re smiling but heavily curious. “I mean is he as good as me…does he please you.” You feel another flash of heat, you adjust yourself on your seat and now realize how close you and Wooyoung are in this booth seat. You’re a leg movement away from being propped on his lap. “Mm we never really got to…you know.”

Wooyoung looks overjoyed to know you didn’t let him hit. A grin is now plastered on his face. “It’s not like he could handle you anyway..pussy would’ve destroyed him.”

You both laugh and lean into each other. “No but seriously, it’s not like anyone can do it like me.” You roll your eyes and sip your new drink. “Oh really.” Wooyoung’s hand on your knees gradually gets higher up. “Yes really I mean..I’d have you shaking from my hands alone.” Wooyoung experimentally brush his hand on your inner thigh, you know that this is wrong. Letting your ex get you all hot in public and letting them play with you under the table but. Fuck it.

You opened your legs up a bit more, giving Wooyoung the green light to do as he pleases. He lightly brushes his hand up and down your cunt through the thin lingerie. After some teasing touches he finally brings his hand down your panties.

You gasp and go to reach for his hand but he swats your hand away. “Shhh don’t want everyone to see how needy you are do you.” He rolls and rubs deep circles into your bud and lightly prods your hole, but never fully bringing it in. Your breath is shaky and he starts rubbing your clit faster making a small moan tumble from your mouth. “So wet…did you miss me that bad.”

“Let’s get outta here…..please.” Wooyoung smiles and takes his hands from your panties. He then takes his phone out to reserve a room at a hotel.

-At the Hotel-

You and Wooyoung finally walk into the room, it’s on the hotels highest floor, a penthouse. Wooyoung and you are pawing at each other and kissing fervently. He removes his shoes and jacket and unbuttons his dress shirt. You slide down the straps of your dress causing it to slide down a bit further showing your cleavage.

You and him finally get into the main bedroom. It has a large king bed with blunt but warm golden lighting and a grande body mirror in front of the bed.

“You’re not drunk right ? You actually want to do this..if not I’ll take you home right now..” you shush him with a quick kiss on the cheek. “I do…I’m sober.” Wooyoung nods assured and after looking at you once over ensuring you weren’t intoxicated, he goes in for a kiss.

The kiss is deep, it felt like no time passed between you both at all. The kiss made your knees knock and consumed you with heat, the sexual tension between you two finally being broken. He takes his hands and rubs up and down the back of your thighs and slides the bottom of your dress up to your waist and grips your ass. “Go to the mirror.”

You both step over to it, your dress still pulled up exposing your lower half. You can feel Wooyoung’s bulge straining his pants behind you. Without any hesitation Wooyoung pulls your panties to the side and begins playing with your folds, taking note of the amount of arousal already pooling there.

He wordlessly pumps a single finger in a while maneuvering to play with your clit. You let out small sighs and whines. “Only I’ve seen you like this right, nobody can even get you this wet can they?” He brings another finger in, you can hear your wetness and feel the vibrations of his fingers hitting the right spot flow through you. He alternates between slowly curling and scissoring them into you to finger fucking you without mercy.

Your eyes are closed, too lost in all the feelings. They flutter back open when he suddenly removes his fingers and goes in front of you. He pops the two fingers in his mouth and sighs of satisfaction. Then he gets on his knees.

“Hold this for me baby or I’ll ruin it.” You grab the front of your dress and hold it up for him. He pulls your panties fully down before licking along your slit, stopping at your clit to playfully flick it. Your knees buckle again but Wooyoung places a hand on your calf. “No. Stand and watch us.” You look back into the mirror, your eyes are in a daze and lips are plump and swole from the constant biting out of pleasure.

“None of them make you look like that.” Wooyoung heads back into your cunt and buries his face. Lapping and messily eating you out with no neatness. You struggle holding yourself up and having to see your own eyes sinful look in the mirror. He begins to raise his hands on your hips making you grind yourself on his face.

You look down momentarily and see Wooyoung looking up at you, his eyes giving nothing but a low intent stare. You’re riding his face and he sucks and tongues down your cunt, occasionally bringing a single hand down to use his fingers on your hole.

Soon it all starts straining and you can feel yourself on the brink of cumming. Wooyoung already knew that tho, and stops. Popping his mouth off your clit before pulling away. Before you can protest from the edging he backs you into the bed and takes his cock out. He reaches in his pocket and takes out a condom to put it on.

He opens your legs and begins to rub the tip across your folds and tapping it on your clit making you cry out from the stimulation. “Tell me if it’s too much.” It never was too much. However, Woo was cautious and you nodded. “What’s the color if you want to stop ?” You remember it automatically, “Red.” Wooyoung let out a soft grin and coo’s “Good girl.” then Wooyoung slides his cock in and begins deep stroking. You start to moan uncontrollably, feeling that one spot inside being constantly hit and prodded by his cock. Your moans spur Wooyoung on making him fuck into you harder.

Wooyoung bends your legs to your chest and starts making deeper thrust. He leans down and brings a breast into his mouth, nipping at teasing the bud while crashing his hips into yours.

“None of them can fuck you like I can, can they ?” You struggle to say an answer from the haze of pleasure you’re in. Wooyoung grabs your neck causing you to focus. “Did they ever make you cum baby?” He says in a fake empathetic tone. Finally you control your moans and utter your truthful answer. “ Barely, none of them,,they- they weren’t you.” A string of moans fell from you as Wooyoung’s dick kissed your cervix.

“That’s right, stand up for me baby.” He pulls out which makes you let out a quiet gasp by the sudden emptiness. He brings you back to the mirror and has you lean forward, hands on the wall from each side of the mirror. Your back naturally arches from the position and Wooyoung runs his hands down your back. He makes you look into the mirror. “Look at you, so so pretty I missed seeing you like this…I think about it every night.”

The face you saw wasn’t new..before you and Wooyoung went your separate ways he managed to pull this fucked out face out of you frequently. One hand is caressing your jaw while the other is sensually running it down your back. This bent over position has you anxious for more. “Wooyoung please..I need you.” Wooyoung places light kisses on your back. “What do you need.” You’re clenching around nothing, “Show me how much you missed me.” He aligns his cock at your entrance again and plunges right back in.

He fucks into you once more this time with a consistent rhythm that makes you see stars. You can’t help but get louder practically crying on his cock. He fucks you at a pace all too familiar, your body knew it like clockwork. Then you feel the build up inside crashing down. “Go ahead baby..cum I know you can’t take it.” The orgasm washes over you, making your muscles stiffen and eyes rolled back.

He continues to fuck into you, causing you to be overstimulated and tearing up. Skin slapping and both of your moans and pants fill the room for what feels like hours. You came all over his cock again and then after a few more moments of him chasing his own high, his cum spills into the condom.

He ruts into you a couple more times to ease himself through the orgasm. He hasn’t felt a release like that in so long, his vision is blurred in a sense and he shudders. With the small bit of strength he had left he pulled you close to him and backed you both onto the bed.

After disposing the condom and a shared shower you’re both in the hotel bed nude. Wooyoung laid on his back while your head rests on his chest, legs entangled with each others. His presence causing you internal chaos and bliss simultaneously.

But then, it dawns on you..what if this was a quick needed fuck. What if it’s all the same again tomorrow and you’re back to being strangers. You decide to get your hopes down and not allow them to rise.

“So when do you plan on leaving.” You whisper. Your expectations are tomorrow in the morning he’ll be gone and fade back into the wind as someone you once knew.

Wooyoung gives a puzzled look before shaking his head. “Not until whenever you want to leave..I’m staying y/n.”

“You’re crazy..” you run a hand over your face, avoiding his gaze. He holds you tighter, “I mean it y/n, I’m back for a reason, I can’t let you go…I’ll find a way for the both of us.”

You don’t answer knowing that you’ll short circuit and become another crying mess; tears from frustration from the past few months releasing and how he’s back after months of moving forward. As well as tears of relief and being glad he’s there.

He snuggles you closer onto him and begins whispering sweet nothings and a repetitive “I’ve missed yous”. In contrast of the sweetness he also has a firm hold of your body that screams possessiveness whilst also mumbling about how no man understands you or your body like he does.

Through the silence, Wooyoung can sense you’re still awake, and begins tracing shapes on your skin again. “Before all this what have you been up to.” You laugh from the sudden calm casual question.

“Mm what’s with the sudden interview.” You joke to him with a half smile, already falling asleep. He kisses your forehead and rubs your side.

“I can’t help but wonder how you’ve been babe.”

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helvegen-s · 1 month

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Rage, rage | three

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language

They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.

She feels naked, unprotected.

She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.

Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.

What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.

Father is going to kill her.

Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.

Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.

The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.

For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.

She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...

She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."

Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.

The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...

"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."

She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.

She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.

Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.

With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:

"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?

Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?

No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?

She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.

She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?

"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"

"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”

She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.

Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.

Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."

She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.

When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."

Nimue trembles.

What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?

Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.

Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.

She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.

Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."

By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."

Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.

The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.

Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.

Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.

Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."

Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.

The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.

What is that?

Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.

Is he hallucinating?

Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?

Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.

"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"

Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...

Something is not right.

The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.

She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.

Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?

"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.

Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.

What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...

She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.

And then everything suddenly calms down.

They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.

And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.

There's something, something pulling her towards...

Towards him.

Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.

"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"

Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.

Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.

"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.

Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.

Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.

The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.

What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?

Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.

However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."

Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.

What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.

And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.

"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats

A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 🥰

#azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel fic

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starlight-bread-blog · 9 months

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Zuko and Katara Aren't Toxic to Each Other

I keep hearing this take that's biasically just different variations of this:

Zuko and Katara would bring out the worst in each other. They would be fighting constantly, and their similar tendency to anger will escalate these situations. They'd both grow miserable and bitter.

I don't like this argument for a number of reasons, but I'll adress just one: I feel as though these takes miss how Zuko and Katara have been shown to respond to each other's anger in canon.

For most of the story, they're enemies. Prince of the Fire Nation and the Avatar's friend & teacher. They fight because they're on opposite sides of a war. They do have an arc before they reconcile, there are fights from The Crossroads of Destiny to The Southern Raiders. But in my opinion they don't point at toxicity. They show how Zuko actually reacts to Katara's rage. And it simply doesn't escalate even before they become friends. So let's take a look at a few of said arguments:

The Crossroads of Destiny

At this point they are pure enemies. Katara didn't see Zuko's journy in the Earth Kingdom and they don't know anything about each other.

Zuko and Katara are in the crystal catacombs and Katara starts yelling & preaching at Zuko for all he did do them. At first Zuko just takes it all, just listens to her. But he hit his breaking point.

Zuko (calmly): You don't know what you're talking about.

Katara then rightfully gets angry. And opens up about how the Fire Nation hurt her personally – they took away her mother. Instantly, Zuko isn't angry anymore.

Zuko: I'm sorry.

He immediatly understands and offers comfort. And even, connect with his enemy.

Zuko: That's something we have in common.

Katara: I'm sorry I yelled at you before.

Now the argument is over. They were enemies just a second ago, but Zuko was able to put it aside, realize that Katara was well within her rights to get angry, see her pain and connect with her. So much so, that he tells her about his destiny, about how he feels he's free. And Katara offers to heal his scar to help him too. She too understood his pain, calmed down instantly and helpped.

The Western Air Temple

Zuko has redeemed himself, but not in Katara's eyes. She still suspects him after he betrayed her. She confronts him.

Zuko doesn't get angry if defensive, he knows why she's yelling and lets it happen. He understands her and knows his place.

Then, she threatens him with death. And what did Zuko do?

Nothing. It's not his place. He has gained the emotional maturiny needed to do nothing. To take her rage, knowing it's deserved.

The Southern Raiders

At this point Zuko is completely redeemed, he saved the Gaang just this day and proved he's trust worthy on multiple occasions. But that's still not enough for Katara. She makes a mean spirited comment about him not deserving any credit and leaves. Zuko follows her.

Thus the hostility begins. Zuko asks Katara why can't she trust him? He's proven himself, everyone already trusts him. It's a fair question, and fair frustration. Katara didn't provide substantial reasons to why she still doesn't trusts him yet. She just reminded him she was the first to trust him.

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

He calmed down and tried to help, even when he had every right to be upset. In her next line, it became clear that she was projecting her grief onto him. Zuko realized this, what did he do? What did he do after finding out that Katara's rage at him isn't even about anything he personally did? What did he do after finding out that her rage is unfair and rooted in projection?

Says nothing & goes to her brother to help her solve her trauma. Regardless of it was healthy or not, Zuko was trying to help – not get angry at her.

All of these arguments happen before they even become friends. After they did, they are nothing but wholesome.

This argument that they'd bring out the worst in each other has no basis in canon.

"But it doesn't need to be prominent in canon! They didn't disagree yet, and we don't know what it'd look like".

They did once: Zuko agreed to an Agni Kai with Azula. He invited Katara just so he wouldn't have to do this. Katara finds it unreasonable. But she hears him out and trusts his judgement.

Yes, it does need to be backed up by canon. If it doesn't need to, you can pick any two traits of any two characters and think of how they could be miserable. It doesn't matter that that's not how they are, because it's a hypothetical. It doesn't need to be backed up in canon. Now I'm suggesting that Zukka would be toxic because Sokka's sillyness would clash with Zuko's anger. Sokka would joke around and Zuko would be irrutated & ask him to take it seriously. But it's stupid. I just picked two traits and went wild with it. Same goes for Zutara. They don't act like this, so it's irrelevant.

In conclusion: When Zuko and Katara were "fighting constantly" they were on opposite sides of a war. The first time they talked, it naturally starts as an argument, but turns into a beautiful moment where they both understand each other. When Zuko joins the Gaang, he waits pationetly to Katara's forgiveness, takes all her anger without being at all hostile, does everything he can to prove himself, stays calm even when it's unfair and helps her resolve her trauma. After they reconcile Zuko and Katara don't have a hinch of toxicity. They don't bring out the worst in each other.

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visionsofmagic · 7 months

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saving [kuai liang, tomas • short]

―✹ they save you from an attack of lin kuei and propose you join shirai ryu.

+ requested by anon! couldn’t get whether you wanted it to be kuai liang x reader x smoke, so, I did it separately, hope you all will like this! special thanks to anon! 💌 "Can you write for Smoke and Kuai Liang from Mk1? Something like saving the reader from a Lin Kuei attack and offering reader shelter in the Shirai Ryu"

+ hurt/comfort, gn!reader, mentions of blood and injuries, soft!kuai liang, soft!tomas, past mk1, fluff, a little angst, using of y/n, scared!reader, newbie!reader, friends to lovers (kinda), patching up. ‘is all. enjoy!

❦ KUAI LIANG

seeing you from a far away, he immediately understands you are in danger as the sight in front of him becomes clearer when he gets closer to you - staying behind the balcony’s edge, you use it as a shield, hands gripping your weapon tightly, the rain washing over your shaking body.

he realizes how you try to stay calm, strong, and unemotional even though you’re getting wetter each passing second, holding your own arms while listening to the silence - the fight between lin kuei and others decreases its intensity, lin kuei gets the hold of power against others.

kuai liang doesn’t waste another time when he sees you, vulnerable yet staying still.

“hey,” he says, walking towards you, not minding the rain as he kneels down to your level, hands gripping you by the arms, gently. “are you okay?” he asks, wanting you to show him that you’re capable of understanding your surroundings.

when your shining eyes meet with his, you recognize him immediately, the brother of grandmaster - kuai liang, one of your mentors.

nodding, you try to speak, “I am sorry -“ it was the first thing coming into your mind - I am sorry that I couldn’t fight stronger - be better.

the response coming from him isn’t what you expected yet it helps you to calm down, “no need to say that. just let’s get you out of here,” he adds, pointing something on your shoulder, “you are wounded.”

his remark makes you look down at the wound that stopped bleeding - the pain slowly appearing and making you hiss.

waiting no more, for an answer, he picks you up slowly and gently, looking at your surprised face from the corner of his eyes as he begins to walk. the rain pouring over his body to yours, but you don’t care about it anymore when you feel his warmness hugging you, giving a kind of protection and peace that your eyes nearly close at the moment- however, his voice takes you into reality once more, making you realize how tight he is holding you as if he lets go, it will be doom.

the proximity is enough to create a hot atmosphere along with his warmth. never imagined scorpion of all people would take care of you like this yet here you are, in his arms, going to somewhere you don’t need to ask about because you know he’s taking you to a safe place.

“try to take a bit of rest, but don’t fall asleep,” he sounds concerned, looking down at your face for a moment, “your wound needs to be healed. once we find a safer place, we will take care of it. now, just rest, okay?”

nodding, you close your eyes, putting your head onto his shoulder. in the rest of the way you rest on his shoulder as he carries you. no fear, not anymore, not when you have him, you listen to his heartbeats up close, a source of peace, and a healer to your wound which he takes care of as he promised once you reach a safe area.

he’s so gentle with you that you begin to cry when he cleans, fixes, and heals the wound with full care. it makes him go confused - holding you by the chin, he makes you look at him - a smile full of understanding is replaced on his attractive face, “don’t worry. you will be okay.”

you know it’s not the truth because how can you? you have no home in lin kuei, not after everything you’ve been through.

kuai liang gets it though, no need for words from your lips to understand the fear you have. so, he spends the next few hours thinking about how he can propose you join him as he waits for you to take some sleep. deep down, he knows he can’t let you go, not anymore because he has seen something in your eyes that makes the man find a different source of warmness contrary to the one he has naturally.

the next thing he knows kneeling before you as you sit down on the edge of the bed, caressing your hands with the tips of his fingers, smiling widely, and ensuring as he asks, “will you come with me? I know it’s a sudden and odd question but you can join me, in shirai ryu. I promise you will find peace and the power you seek in there.”

you only ask whether he will be on your side or not, and kuai chuckles at that, the relief flows into him.

he promises you that he will be on your side as long as you want him to be, and with that, the new journey you live together begins.

❦ TOMAS

the moment an attack happens, the first thing his mind is covered is you - only you and the condition you have.

the uncertainty of it makes his stomach crumble in concern. he needs to find you. he knows he has no right to think about you because he is the one who can’t say he has a weak point in his heart for you. but you know it, you know him more than he does for himself, and when you see the glimpse of nervous tomas steps inside the room you’re sitting in, a smile appears on your face.

however, tomas realizes it’s an act to hide the wounds you have when he closes the gap between you two. on his knees, hands on your arms, his eyes travel around your body, seeing blood getting dry on the shoulder and arms, cuts are long enough to make them look so painful.

“y/n,” his voice shaky, furrowing in concern and anger - how they can hurt his y/n? he is mad at them but he knows he should take you somewhere safe first. “I am so sorry that I couldn’t come any sooner.”

putting your palms on his cheeks, you smile wider, a sense of calmness washing over you knowing that he’s here and well. “no need, tomas. I am fine, don’t worry about me.”

he can’t - you mean so much to him.

he keeps his silence as he helps you get up. when he sees you can merely walk, he asks whether he can pick you up or not, and when you nod, with such care, he picks you up.

closeness makes him go all red but he doesn’t care about it at all - you are the only thing in his mind, you and tour safety.

listening to the report you’re telling on the way about how the attack has begun, how you have tried to help as many people as you can until you have ended up in a small room to wait for aid because you knew you couldn’t fight any longer without recovering.

he concludes as he listens to you carefully, and finally finds a safe room with medicine.

firstly, with the help of you, he cleans your wounds - having a blush on his face while doing so. yes, you two had these kinds of closeness yet he can’t help but feel a bit shy and excited every single time.

this time is a bit different though, because you have wounds, more than one unfortunately, and you need them to be healed as soon as possible - tomas is determined to give you what you need even if it means staying beside you all week long. he will do it with pleasure.

also, he knows there is no safe place under lin kuei’s shelter for you.

with the trust he has for kuai liang, his brother, he sits beside you on the couch, and lets you put your head down onto his shoulder.

he wishes he could be like this all the time.

“y/n,” he says, waiting for you to respond to him with a cute ‘hmm’ sound. “do you trust me?” he needs to be sure.

picking your head up, you look into his eyes, and he gets the answer only with them - shining bright as you keep looking.

“with my life.”

tomas can be any happier and sad at the same time; the former is because of the way you look at him, the words leaving your pretty mouth that touch him deeply and the latter is due to seeing you hurt.

“then, join us -“ he fixes himself, “join me. in shirai ryu, we can build something different - something better. together, side by side.”

his words echo inside your mind over and over again, the pain coming from the wounds is long forgotten. with him by your side, you feel untouched.

the happiness of highness hits you greatly when you nod, accepting his offer without hesitation. “be ready to patch me up, tomas.” “no need for that pretty y/n. I will make sure you get hurt no more.”

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frvnkcastles · 7 months

Text

YOUR HEAD’S ONLY MEDICINE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You and Frank bond over tattoos.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, reader lost a friend to suicide, past self-harm, implied bad relationship with parents, fluff!!!!

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: My god this is SO self-indulgent!! I just really love tattoos and I have one of Frank and I often wonder how he’d react to it so this came to life. Maybe someone else can relate :) Also I know I’ve been very slow at writing your requests but rest assured I have seen them and I am trying my best <33

Only a year ago, a knock on your door near midnight would have sent you to an early grave, but now, with Frank in your life, you had come to expect it. On yet another night when you had already changed into your coziest shorts and fluffiest socks in preparation for bed, the familiar sound alerted you from the kitchen, and with quiet movements, you shuffled to the peephole only to confirm what you already suspected — a bloody Frank Castle awaited on your doorstep.

”Hey, sweetheart.” You were met with his raspy voice once you parted the door just enough for him to slip inside, like a secret in the shadows of the night that you wanted to hold from your neighbors. How scandalous would it be if they found out that New York’s most wanted was your nightly visitor?

”Is it bad?” you asked, well-aware that he wouldn’t be coming to you at this hour if he didn’t need your help. The groan that rose from his throat as he moved to the couch was your answer, and with a struggle, he fought his jacket off of his broad shoulders and revealed the gash on his bicep, his shirt torn where the blood trickled down.

”Could be worse”, he grunted, ”just happened to be nearby and figured you’d do a prettier job than me.” You sensed the deadpan humor in his voice, and it got a grin from you as you trailed to the bathroom where you had hidden your first aid kit. Once you were armed with the supplies, you made your way back to Frank and sat down next to him, curious but concerned eyes inspecting the wound on his arm.

As you lifted your own arm to pull at the loose threads of his shirt and reveal the wound better, Frank’s eyes caught the protective wrap around yours, concealing the new ink on your skin that had turned into an irritated red at the very beginning of its healing journey.

”That a new one?” he acknowledged the tattoo with a curt nod, and for a second, you wondered what he was referring to, but once you found his stare locked on your arm, you nodded.

”Got it a few days ago. Pretty cool, huh?” you smiled while getting back to work, and humming, Frank continued to study the intricate art all over your arm. He forgot all about the pain on his own body as he scanned every piece, the way he had done before, as well. He often got lost in it, and his curiosity about the stories behind them. You had shared a few, but some of them still remained a mystery to them. Sometimes he remembered the thigh tattoo you had mentioned but never shown, and his mouth would go dry at the mere thought.

”Yeah”, he finally replied, ”pretty cool.”

Somehow, it became a habit. Every time he’d visit you, bloodied and bruised, he’d focus on your tattoos, trailing your arms and hands as well as your legs, and on a few special occasions he got a glimpse of the one on your back and just an inch of the one on your thigh. He couldn’t explain the strange attraction he felt to them, but he couldn’t deny that as beautiful as you were without them, they made you… well, you. They completed you, in a way that he hadn’t realized tattoos could do, but seeing you with them was a confusing mixture of adoration and a massive turn-on.

”Another one?” Frank noted the new ink on your shoulder on yet another routine night, and although you knew he was truly intrigued by your tattoos, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the words that sounded almost disapproving.

”Starting to sound like my dad, Frank”, you sang teasingly, and with a grimace, the man mustered a chuckle out, as well.

”Shit, we definitely don’t want that”, he remembered your strained relationship with your parents, before adding, ”I like it. Suits you.”

Smiling, you finished cleaning the gash on his back before offering him his shirt and giving his bare skin a lingering look. ”You ever think about getting tattoos? I think they’d suit you”, you pointed out, unable to resist tracing your fingers down the blank canvas of his body, from his shoulder blades over to his biceps. Frank shivered, and you noticed — although you were both used to you touching him by now, there was a line between medical and intimate that you were currently dancing on.

”Thought about it”, Frank shrugged, licking his lips as he considered whether or not he should continue. ”Thought I’d get one for… uh, y’know. My family. But I dunno, what’s the point?” he elaborated, and looking up from his muscled back, you gave him a sympathetic look.

”I think that’s a sweet idea. It can be very cathartic, you know”, you noted before extending your arm to him and pointing out the small but significant tattoo in the crook of your elbow. ”I got this for my friend after she passed. It helped me process and come to terms with what happened. I managed to let go of a lot of guilt, too”, you explained in a quiet voice. Tenderly, Frank brushed a thumb across the semicolon needled into your skin, and when he met your gaze, he saw the sadness in your eyes despite the smile you flashed him.

”Also… I know you like to punish others but also yourself. And there’s something about the pain, you know? It feels good, in some weird way”, you added before gesturing at the flowers that you had gotten a year ago to cover your self-inflicted scars. ”Helped me stop hurting myself in other ways, at least.”

Nodding in understanding, Frank continued to trace your skin with gentle fingers. ”You did good”, he whispered, before swallowing thickly. ”’M glad you found somethin’ to help you. For what it’s worth, I dunno that you’d be you without all of ’em”, he gestured at you, and with a new, sincere smile, you patted him on the back.

”Well, if you ever decide to get one, I’d happily come and hold your hand through it”, you beamed, and with a chuckle, Frank nodded.

”I’mma keep that in mind.”

After that night, his visits became more scarce. You were friends, sure, but he didn’t owe you anything — so why did him being away for so long hurt so much? It felt sick and twisted, but you missed stitching him up, missed him being a bloody mess on your couch. You found yourself waiting and expecting every night, but eventually, the knocks stopped coming. And soon enough, he didn’t come back at all.

It hurt, and you wondered if he was okay — if he was even alive. You had his number, but you knew it was only for emergencies and you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself. It wasn’t fair of you to assume his world revolved around you, but how had yours started to revolve around him?

A month went by without any sign of him, and then, one day, you came home to a letter on your doorstep. With bated breath, you broke the envelope and unfolded the letter within, and at the sight of Frank’s handwriting and a quickly scribbled ”Hey, sweetheart”, your heart flipped and your lips twitched into an involuntary smile. It was brief but sweet, detailing how he had go into hiding and keep low contact, but with promises to be back as soon as he could. He even told you he missed you, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fill with giddiness at the thought.

And at the very bottom of the page was a haphazardly drawn skull to sign for the letter, and you instantly knew what you had to do.

Two weeks later, there was a knock on your door at midnight, and you leaped in the knowledge it could only be one person. When you did, in fact, find Frank waiting in the hallway, you let your instincts drive you and without hesitation, you threw yourself in a tight hug. You wrapped your inked arms around him and squeezed, fearing he would slip away from you yet again. Frank relaxed into the hug slowly but surely, his arms coming to rest around your waist to hold you against his chest, his lips colliding with the top of your head as you embraced.

”Missed you too.”

Exhaling heavily, you pulled back and gave him a concerned look. ”Sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt—”, you began, but Frank cut you off with a shake of his head.

”Hey, ’m okay. Just wanted to see ya”, he admitted bashfully, his dark eyes glancing at his feet and then back to you, ”woulda brought you flowers if the shop downstairs had still been open.”

Heat crawled up your cheeks, and you dodged his gaze as you stepped aside to let him inside your apartment. Without another word, he stepped across the threshold and began shrugging off his jacket, and in an instant, your heart jumped — he planned on staying, then?

”Can I get you anything?” you asked, unexplainably nervous as you closed the door and left yourself in a private space with Frank, the tension high in the room.

”Nah, ’m good”, Frank grunted before giving you a shy look. ”Did you, uh, get my letter?” he questioned, seeming just as awkward as you, and it made you smile. Surely most people didn’t know the Punisher could be so endearing.

”I got it. It was really sweet”, you reassured before stepping closer to him. ”Actually… I kind of… did a thing”, you added, and with a cocked eyebrow, Frank studied your face but for once, he couldn’t read your expression.

”Somethin’ good?” he wondered, and with a chuckle, you shrugged.

”You tell me”, you stated simply before rolling up your sleeve and revealing your newest tattoo — the skull he had drawn for you, identical from the letter, now forever on your wrist, always there to remind you of him and the things he made you feel.

Stunned and speechless, Frank stared at your wrist before looking up at you in disbelief. Softly, he caressed the healing picture with his thumb, sending a chill down your spine as his rough fingertip drew a pattern across your skin. He took his sweet time, and you couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, driving you crazy.

”It’s permanent?” he spoke up eventually, his dark eyes meeting yours, and with a swallow, you nodded.

”It’s permanent”, you confirmed before letting your courage guide your tongue, ”I hope you’re permanent, too.”

Frank looked at you, quiet and contemplative, but eventually, he inched closer to you and reached for your jaw. His thumb rubbed your chin and he deliberately gave you the chance to pull away — but you didn’t. And so, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours for the very first time, in the softest and most tender kiss imaginable. He was careful, as if worried he’d hurt you, and you wanted him to let go of that idea, so you pressed into him harder and kissed him more feverishly, hoping he’d get the hint.

His hand fell from your jaw to your neck, and he craned his head while deepening the kiss, his tongue grazing your lip as he sealed his body against yours. He kissed you hard and with every pent-up feeling he had been holding out on you, and you met him with equal fervor until your lips were swollen and your breath difficult to catch.

”Love it”, Frank breathed out when he pulled away, his stare falling to your tattoo again. ”Love all of ’em. But this one especially. Shit, I’m… I’m real flattered, y’know?” he struggled to find the right words, and with a smile on your pink lips, you nodded.

”I like to immortalize everything that’s special to me”, you pointed out, and with half a smile, Frank cast a shy look downwards.

”About, uh, me being permanent…”, he began, and anxiously, you waited for him to continue. Eventually, he did.

”I’d like that, sweetheart.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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dawneternal · 1 month

Text

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | one

☁︎ summary: The Lady of Autumn hires a healer behind Beron's back. Sworn to secrecy, the healer helps Eris when he is punished by his father and forbidden to see a healer from their court. Eris did not expect to find himself growing attached. He comes to realize that he may know plenty about sacrifice, but he has a lot to learn about choosing to live for the ones you love.

☁︎ notes: let me know how you feel about the order of this chapter. I felt like it didn't read the same to have that last scene at the beginning, but if it's confusing I will change it:)

☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence

☁︎ word count: 2.8k

☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist

“Hurry,” Lady Edana hissed, a sound like pinching a candle flame. It echoed in the quiet, the only sound in the dark hallway.

The silence was so immense it seemed to roar. Every hall and passage was empty and utterly dark. Aya would have thought every court had secrets veiled by this hour between night and morning. But there was no sign of life in the Forest House.

And yet, Lady Edana led the way with a knife in her hand, poised to attack. It was not even a hunting knife or one of the jeweled daggers gifted to young boys of the court. Just a knife, likely stolen from the kitchens or even the dinner table. Aya had to wonder if it was the only weapon Lady Edana had access to.

To her credit, she held it like a fighter, blade pointed down and out so she could still strike if pinned. In her other hand she held her shoes, her stocking feet making no sound as she shuffled across the stone floor. Urgency radiated from her. If it were visible, it would have given her a corona. An aura of flames.

They came to another corner and the Lady tugged Aya against the wall before peering around the corner. She deemed it safe and pulled the healer after her. One last eerie hallway and then they stopped at a large wooden door. Lady Edana fished a chain of keys from its place tucked into her bodice and unlocked the door. It opened without a sound, like the hinges had been oiled or silenced with magic.

The lady snapped and the fae lights came to life in their sconces, revealing the heir of Autumn laying face down on a large bed, bleeding profusely into silk green sheets.

Aya had been warned of his condition but it still sent a jolt through her. He was so still, his red hair stark against pale skin and moss colored bedding. His mother tossed her knife onto the side table and knelt by the bed.

“Eris,” She whispered, her face nearly as pale as his, “Are you awake?”

“Mother,” He croaked. Something in Aya’s chest twisted at the utter brokenness of his voice. It hurt more than looking at the torn up flesh of his back.

“I brought a healer,” She said, beckoning to Aya.

“Mother,” He said again, reprimanding. Pleading.

“I will take care of everything.” She stepped back to let the healer take her place, disappearing into the washroom to fetch water. Eris’s eyes, surprisingly alert, locked onto Aya’s face. They roamed over her features, assessing.

“Worry not,” Aya whispered, unable to resist the urge to brush back a strand of copper hair. She understood the urgency now, as her gaze flickered to the blood pooling around his body.

His eyes softened at her touch, chin trembling like he was a thread away from shattering. So she took her hand away from his forehead, hovering it over his injuries instead. He flinched and she closed her eyes so he would not see the anger in them. The anger at whoever had done this. He needed tenderness and she would give it.

Aya reached into the spring of power within her and willed it to the surface. Willed it to pour from her fingertips into his being and soothe the pain. She urged the bleeding to slow to a stop, for his body to numb enough that she could clean his wounds before the true healing began. She felt his energy begin to pull away, lulled by sleep.

When she opened her eyes she saw that his own had closed, his breathing deep and even.

“You are as talented as the High Lord said,” Lady Edana whispered from beside her. She held a pitcher of water and an arm full of towels.

Aya stared at the mess, wondering where to begin. Even with all her doubts and wariness, she had not pictured an injury this severe when she accepted this position. She had known to expect the sneaking and the secrecy, but not to be led to Eris’s deathbed.

It did not help her uneasiness in the slightest when the lady said, as she mopped up her son’s blood, “Whatever we can’t get clean by morning, just throw into the fireplace. We’ll have to burn it all.”

It was a long moment before Aya said anything. Perhaps it was a risk to ask questions, but Eris’s blood coating her hands felt like justification enough.

“Why?” She murmured, keeping her eyes on the work before her. Lady Edana took her own time answering, lips pursed as she dabbed at the prince’s back.

“The High Lord forbade Eris from seeing a healer. It is part of his punishment.”

“So that is why the job was a secret,” Aya said quietly. They still avoided each other’s gaze.

“Yes.”

“What is the prince being punished for?” Another risky question, but Lady Edana seemed to think her questions were deserved, too. Or maybe she just wanted Aya to understand. From this perspective, dishonesty seemed to be built into the foundation of the Autumn Court.

“He visited the Winter Court without telling his father first. His father wanted to know why. And decided that Eris must be granted permission to leave the court borders.”

Aya clenched her jaw, looking back at the deep wounds on Eris’s back. No doubt from a whip or a belt. They would leave deep scars, and would have easily become infected without a healer. Though that seemed to be what Beron wanted. She decided not to ask what Eris was doing in the Winter Court.

“Beron will be called away first thing in the morning,” The Lady continued, “Not that he would have checked on Eris, anyways. But you will be long gone before he wakes, just in case.”

Aya wondered for a moment how Beron would know that Eris had obeyed his order not to see a healer. And she realized with a sick feeling in her stomach that he had likely left the enforcement of that order to Edana. The entire structure relied on their fear. They would do what he said because they had to, to protect themselves and each other. So what would happen to Lady Edana if Beron knew what she had done? What would happen to Aya?

She looked down at the ring on her forefinger, the blood on it glimmering like a ruby. She wondered how much Thesan had known any of this. It didn’t matter now, anyways, since she was bound to Edana by that golden ring. And looking at Eris, his brows furrowed and skin shining with sweat, she knew it was all for him.

How often was he destroyed this way? Torn apart in mind and body, forbidden from being put back together? Often enough for Aya to be paid a monthly salary. A very handsome one. But perhaps that part truly had been to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind.

As if she had a choice, now.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Upon returning to the Dawn Court, Aya headed straight for the throne room. She did not bother to change first, her clothes still covered in ash and blood. Her whole body was stiff from sleeping on the floor and heavy from how little rest she had managed to get.

The mammoth wooden doors opened before her, revealing Thesan and a few of his councilors lounging near the throne. Their easy laughter rose into the air, dancing with the cool breeze. The open archways of the throne room showed the pastel skies and fluffy clouds around them.

It was such a stark contrast to the last hours of her life, dimly lit and painted in the dark tones of the Autumn Court. It blew a puff of air into the fire burning in her chest.

Thesan’s brows rose as his gaze landed on her, jaw clenched and eyes blazing as she strode through the room.

“How much did you know about this job?” She demanded. The irreverence shook the High Lord more than her appearance. This was the way she spoke to her cousin, and not Thesan the High Lord. And never in front of others.

He asked the councilors for a moment, keeping his eyes on Aya as they scurried away. One dared to flash her a disdainful look and click his tongue. Aya ignored it.

“What was your question?” Thesan asked softly when they were alone.

“You told me this job would require discretion,” She said, her tone cooling a touch, “Did you know why?”

“Lady Edana requested a healer for personal matters,” He took a sip from his goblet, “I did not think it would be polite to inquire about the details.”

Aya shifted on her feet, her rage slowing to a halt. How delicate was this secret? Thesan could always be counted on for his discretion. But surely there were political implications that she didn’t know or understand. There always was, and figuring them out had never been one of her talents.

“Did you not ask the details before you accepted the job?” He pressed. His curiosity about the state of her clothes was rising into anxiety.

“I assumed the details. I thought maybe she was having age-related troubles. Or perhaps an affair.”

“And you were wrong,” Thesan prompted, “You are very troubled by whatever this secret is.”

“Yes,” Aya admitted, her shoulders drooping.

Thesan’s gaze flickered to the ring on her finger. If he was surprised to see it he did not let it show.

“You bound yourself to her?” His voice still smooth, collected.

“She said a physical contract would leave evidence.”

Thesan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not believe Edana to have particularly evil intentions, but she had played Aya like a piece in a game.

“Are you able to tell me this secret?” He sighed.

Aya considered the contract. It seemed that Thesan should be exempt from the secrecy. She would find out if she tried to say it out loud, anyways.

“Beron tortures his son for information,” Aya said, dropping her gaze to the marble floor. The heaviness of her body returned and she resisted the urge to let her wings rest on the ground.

“Lucien?” Thesan tilted his head to the side. He did not seem all that surprised.

“Eris,” She whispered, lifting her eyes to his. She knew he would see how haunted they were. Filled with imagery of her long night.

Thesan pursed his lips, his own eyes sparkling with anger. Many things clicked into place with this new information.

“And that is the secret?” He asked, “Beron mustn't know you heal Eris?”

“Yes,” She felt much smaller now, all of her fury laid out before Thesan, “He forbids him from seeing a healer. But he would have died if I wasn’t there.”

They did not speak of what this meant for Aya. The danger she would be in every time she stepped foot in the Autumn Court. It passed between them without words, the worry forming like storm clouds.

“I think I should speak to her,” Thesan rubbed his chin in thought.

“Please don-” Aya began, rushing forward to plead with him. He held up a hand to stop her.

“Worry not, little bird,” He soothed, “I will make sure you keep your job. I just want you to be safe. Now rest, I can see the weariness in your eyes.”

Her mind was far from settled, whirling with countless thoughts and worries. But Eris was well and her own safety was in Thesan’s hands now. That was enough. So she obeyed, gathering the energy to trudge back to her room and rest.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“Thesan tells me you are looking for work experience outside of the Dawn Court,” Lady Edana took a sip of her tea, amber eyes locked on the girl in front of her.

The Lady of Autumn had requested to meet with Thesan’s best healer in training. In private, in a quiet place. Thesan did not see a good reason to deny her. And he knew that she worked hard to separate herself from her husband in any manner she could. He’d heard the whispered rumors and seen the bruises hiding just beneath the fine lace of her gowns. If he could help to enable her independence, he would.

“Yes, my Lady,” Aya nodded, resisting the urge to ring her hands, “It is the last requirement I need to complete my training.”

She was proud that Thesan had chosen her as the best of her class, but now she was nervous. Edana had come alone, save for one guard who loomed off to the side of the balcony. His eyes were fixed on the glass doors behind them, but Aya had no doubt he had been listening to the entire conversation. Which, up until then, had been all pleasantries and small talk. But now the Lady’s eyes were narrowed, her focus sharp. It sent a shiver through Aya’s feathers.

“There is a certain situation in my home that requires a healer with greater skill than my court can offer,” The Lady began, “And the position requires discretion. I cannot ensure that a healer from my court will not betray me.”

She paused, watching Aya and waiting for a reaction. Aya knew her brows had drawn together, but she willed all other emotion away.

“There are many distinguished healers in a court, my Lady,” Aya said slowly, “Surely you would want someone who has finished their training?”

“No one with a title,” Lady Edana pursed her lips.

Aya only nodded, feeling ever more confused. The lady’s secret was that salacious? Perhaps it would be wildly foolish to get wrapped up in this situation. But offers for work outside of the court did not come along very often for trainees. And Aya would be lying if she said she was not itching to experience something outside of the soft colors of Dawn.

“I would pay you a monthly salary,” The Lady tilted her head to the side, looking as if she knew exactly where the girl’s thoughts had gone, “You will receive the same amount no matter how many calls you receive in a month. Sometimes, I may call on you often. Other times I may not need your help for a long while.”

“You need not pay me if you don’t use my services,” Aya frowned. Many healers in training took positions without pay.

“I was hoping the salary may make the strange requirements worth their while.”

She named the amount and watched Aya’s eyes widen.

“So you need a healer on call to help with private matters. And I must keep the job a secret?” Aya clarified.

That did not sound so suspicious when summed up concisely. Or perhaps the money had dulled the warning signs. She had never let Thesan spoil her just because they were related. She insisted on living in the healer’s dorms and earning her own living like the rest of her class.

“That is correct,” Edana nodded.

“And I would be under contract?” Aya asked. Another common facet of training positions.

“Three years. And it would be through an Autumn Court bargain, and not written,” She said, still watching with those bird-like eyes. She would fit well into Dawn with all of those avine features.

“Very well,” Aya said, “But I would like a written copy of what the bargain entails.”

Edana’s lips twitched up into a smile that Aya couldn’t quite decipher.

“I will write it up and send it your way,” The Lady stood from her chair, “It should be in your hands by this time tomorrow.”

Lady Edana held out her hand. Aya told herself later that she should have been clever enough to wait before shaking hands. She should read that bargain first and study the details. But she did not think of that.

When the magic snapped she let out a yelp and snatched her hand back. Her forefinger was adorned with a simple golden band. She tried to twist it but it did not move, as if it were now a part of her.

“What is this?” She asked, incredulous, turning her hand as she examined the ring.

“A symbol of our contract,” Edana said, straight-faced as ever, “It is a tradition similar to the tattoos in the Night Court.”

Aya stared at it, the pit in her stomach growing larger. How she would be scolded for her oversight. She was certain a version of herself from the future was watching this conversation and screaming at her for being so foolish.

As all of this raged in her mind, she missed the flash of guilt in Edana’s eyes, quickly overtaken by something else. Something too desperate to be sorry.

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heartsforvin · 7 months

Note

Hi bestie, can you do an imagine about cutting ur bikini area in the shower while shaving and how vinnie would react, please 🥰

KISS IT BETTER

thank you for the request !! i hope you like it !! <3

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; use of pet names (baby, princess, etc), mentions of cuts on body, bit of blood, lmk if i missed anything !

summary; when you’re shaving, you accidentally cut yourself, so you have vinnie kiss it better

hearing your alarm, you stretch as you adjust to the light that is coming into the room. you begin to roll over to get out of bed, but your boyfriend pulls you back into him.

“few more minutes, please baby.” he mumbles into your neck, his arm wrapped around your stomach.

you comply, leaning into his touch, you smile as vinnie snakes his other arm around you. after a few minutes you start to get up.

once out of the bed, you grab your phone, speaker and clothes for the day.

turning on your music, you start the shower, waiting for it to heat up. once it’s the temperature you want, you strip and step in.

after shampooing and rinsing that out, you put conditioner in, letting it sit for a bit while you decide to shave your bikini area.

as you do so, everything goes smoothly until you accidentally go over a spot too fast and cut yourself.

you try to keep your voice quiet but a string of profanities leave your mouth and you soon hear vinnie walk into the bathroom.

“baby?” he asks, knocking on the wall as if he can’t see you clearly in the shower. “you okay, my love?”

you scramble to pick up the fallen razor and then answer your boyfriend. “yeah, i’m good. just get back into bed, i’ll be out soon.”

vinnie nods and heads back into his room so you can finish up. once you do, you’re soon dried off and dressed, just needing to finish up the basics.

brushing your teeth, hair and doing your skin care routine, you’re finally back in vinnie’s room.

“there’s my pretty girl- what’s wrong?” vinnie asks when he sees you wince in pain.

you shake your head. “ it’s nothin’, just accidentally cut myself shaving.” you explain.

he comes to stand by you, brushing some hair behind your ear and kissing you softly. “where? maybe i can kiss it better.” he tells you.

you blush, realizing the spot it’s in. “where at, baby?” vinnie asks again, making you become flustered.

you hide yourself in your hands, not wanting to reveal to him exactly where the cut is. it was silly, really, since he had seen you naked countless times.

“it’s on my bikini line, but i cleaned it up now so it’s okay. just a red spot now, you know?” you finally speak up.

taking your hands in his, he smiles at you. “can i kiss it better?” he asks.

even though he has seen you naked a bunch of times, he’s always going to ask if he can see you naked no matter what. even if it is just half.

you blush again, feeling like you’re back in middle school with a crush. nodding, you pull your pants down along with your panties just a bit so he can see where the cut was.

“awe, baby,” vinnie coos, running his finger along your bikini line, making you shiver at the contact. “it doesn’t hurt too bad, does it?”

you shake your head. “not really, just feels like harsh pressure if you really push on it.” you told him.

vinnie nods in understanding. he kneels down to get closer to the red spot and then looks up at you, asking you for permission through his eyes.

with a quiet ‘yes’ he softly kisses the redness spot, making you smile at how caring he is.

you soon pull your pants back up and look up at your boyfriend, he smiles at you and kisses your cheek.

“now it’ll heal faster.” he tells you with a cheeky grin, making you laugh.

you hit his shoulder playfully. wrapping your arms around his neck you kiss him softly. “thank you,” you say. “glad you didn’t freak out or find it weird.”

“of course i wouldn’t find it weird, silly. you know how many times i’ve seen you naked? plus every time you have a scrape or somethin’ i always kiss it better.” vinnie explains to you, making you smile.

you’re so grateful to have vinnie by your side, to always make you feel better in times you need.

as you are for him.

i really hoped you enjoyed this !!! i loved writing it (:

#vhackerr #vinniehacker #vincent hacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic

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captain-fantasy · 1 year

Note

cillian murphy! peaky blinders setting x reader.

could you do a fic where Thomas Shelby and the reader meet at a pub after Grace dies (cuz thomas is high key sad and wants to drink) and some heavy smut happens between both of them.

-🦆anon

Unveiled Hearts - Thomas Shelby x f!reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, alcohol, smut

Grace's death had shaken Thomas Shelby unlike anything had before. He lost his beloved wife, the mother of his child, and the only person he felt would ever truly understand him.

Thomas had retreated into himself, shutting out the world and drowning himself in whatever alcohol would provide momentary comfort. His family had tried to console him, but nothing seemed to make a difference. Instead, he was consumed by his grief, anger, and regret.

One late night, as Thomas sat alone in his study, he heard a knock at the door. He didn't bother getting up to answer it, barely moving his eyes to look at it. He knew it was probably just one of his brothers or Aunt Polly, but when the door opened, and you walked in, he felt something profound within his heart begin to light, something he hadn't felt since he was with Grace.

You were one of the few people he trusted, a confidante who had always been there for him no matter what, even when you were kids. But you took one look at him and knew that something was wrong. His eyes were sunken and heavy, his hair was disheveled, and his clothes were in front of you. The stoic man you once knew was fading right in front of you.

"Tommy," you said softly, closing the door behind you. "What's happened?"

Thomas didn't answer, staring at the floor as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. You walked over and sat beside him, placing a hand on his arm.

"Talk to me, Tommy," you said. "Let me help you."

Thomas looked up at you, the gorgeous blue eyes you loved now filled with pain, his voice full of desperation. "I don't know what to do," he whispered. "I don't know how to live without her."

You didn't try to offer false comforts; you knew that wouldn't be helpful. So instead, you just sat there with him, holding him close and letting him cry.

You sat there with Thomas for hours, listening to him talk about Grace. He spoke of their love, their plans for the future, and their shared dreams. As the night wore on, Thomas' tears began to dry up, and he fell into a deep sleep. You stayed with him, watching over him as he slept and promising to be there for him no matter what.

You watched him until you saw the sun begin to rise, not even noticing how much time had passed since you saw him fall asleep. Then, finally, he began to stir, brows furrowing as small whines escaped his lips. You quickly got up, placing your hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake and bring him out of his nightmare.

Thomas slowly opened his eyes, confused and disoriented. When he realized where he was, he sat abruptly, looking around the room.

"You stayed with me all night?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, smiling softly at him. "I wasn't going to leave you alone, Tommy."

Thomas looked at you for a long moment, his eyes less bloodshot and tired, now filled with gratitude and admiration. "Thank you," he said finally.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Of course, Tommy. You needed a friend."

Your own words stung you a little. You always loved Thomas, but you knew it was wise to just stay friends. Clearly, his way of life was far too dangerous for him to let anyone else in. What happened to Grace just made that even more evident.

As one of the only people he trusted enough to let you see him like this, you knew it must have taken a lot from him to let his guard down, allowing you to see him at his worst. But then, when he stood up, you saw the effects of his work on his body. His arms and torso were littered with scars and healing cuts, and blue, black, and purple bruises mottled across his chest, almost covering his tattoo.

Your mind came back down when he finally stood up, the hardwood floor creaking underneath him. Your eyes followed him as he dressed, watching as he carefully picked everything out, as if putting on a costume that would present himself to the world, covering up the wounds he tried so hard to hide.

It was a while before either of you spoke.

"Listen, I know it's early, but would you like to come back here for dinner tonight? I want to thank you properly for being here for me."

You smiled, looking down for a moment before you nodded, "I'd love to, Tommy. I'll see you tonight."

As you left Thomas's house, you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. You knew it was wrong to hold on to these feelings so soon after his wife died, but you also knew that it would be good for Thomas to get out of his hole and start moving on.

You returned to his house adorably prompt, deciding whether to knock or just walk in. You have been to his house countless times, and you were basically considered family, but because of this event, you were unsure if you should–

"How long were you standing there?" Thomas asked, pulling the door open.

"Not too long."

Even though you'd been there before, the atmosphere had undoubtedly changed. Candles were lit, and the room smelled like the dish Tommy had spent all day trying to make. He was never a good cook, but the sentiment was there.

You could tell that he had put a lot of effort into making this dinner special, and it was clear that he wanted to show his appreciation for everything you had done for him.

As you sat down at the table, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. You knew that Thomas was still grieving, and you didn't want to do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. But as the night went on, the conversation flowed easily between you. You talked about everything and anything, from the secrets of your past to the hopes of the future. You were one of the only people he allowed to know his past.

When you finished your meal and started to clear the table, Thomas reached out and took your hand.

"I have to tell you something," he said softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

You felt your heart racing as you waited for him to continue speaking.

"I know this might not be the right time, and I know that people will talk shit about us, but I can't keep it inside anymore," he started. He had a lot to drink during your dinner, and you heard his words slur when he walked closer to you. The smell of whiskey on his breath burned your nose.

"You're drunk, Tommy. We shouldn't–"

"Stop, just stop," he spoke, wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling you closer, forcing you to listen to him.

"You've been the only constant in my life since we were kids, y/n. I was an idiot to not see it before." His hand moved from your wrist to wrap around your waist. "All I've been thinking about for weeks was you."

Your eyes never left him. You were looking for any sign of a lie, but he was serious as far as you could tell.

"I've felt so guilty, but I can't be without you anymore." he finished, waiting for you to respond.

You felt the wetness between your legs growing, and you pressed your legs together to try and relieve the ache that had been there since you walked into the house.

"Kiss me, Tommy."

He didn't wait any longer, pulling you close for a deep kiss. The way his body pressed against you took all the air from your lungs, and for the first time in months, he could forget and lose himself in your touch. You moaned into his mouth, tasting the liquor he was drinking just a few moments ago. His hands traveled down your body, resting underneath the curve of your ass, grabbing a handful as he pressed you against the table.

This kiss turned more aggressive before he turned you around and bent you over the table, reaching over to push the dishes he'd been working on all day off of the table. He pulled your bottoms down in seconds, looking at your dripping folds in the candlelight.

"Already this wet?" he teased, "I've barely touched you."

His voice was low in a way you hadn't heard before. His index finger gathered some of the wetness that hat started to drip down your legs, sliding effortlessly through your folds and making you desperate for more of him.

"Please, Tommy, please." You've never sounded so pathetic.

"Easy, sweetheart, I'll give you what you want." His voice got breathier. When you looked behind you, you saw that he had taken his aching cock out of his pants, giving it a few tugs, and lining against your entrance. You whined in anticipation, arching your back and pushing your ass out to touch him.

With one quick push, his entire length was inside of you. The air left your body again, and you relished the breathy moans you heard from Tommy's lips.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, and you were sure that you'd be sore for days when you were done. Tommy pounded into you, almost entirely dragging his entire length out before slamming into you again, the feeling almost too much for you to handle as you felt your orgasm approaching.

This was not making love; it was purely physical. You knew that, and yet, you couldn't help yourself from imagining what it would be like to wake up with Thomas in the morning with his arms around you, hands traveling across his chest as you stared into his eyes while you made slow, passionate love. Not caring about what was happening outside your bedroom.

In another life, you suppose.

You were brought out of your daydream when your orgasm hit you. Your vision turned white, and the fire in your stomach spread throughout your entire body. Tommy finished right after you, the feeling of fucking you through your orgasm too much for him to continue.

As his hips stilled, your heavy breathing became the only thing he heard. Tommy gently turned you around to face him, and for the first time, you found it difficult to look him in the eyes. His hand moved under your chin, carefully cradling your face to have you look at him.

A soft warmth spread through your body as his fingers brushed against your skin. You finally met his intense gaze, and within those piercing eyes, you saw a vulnerability you had never witnessed before. The smell of sex and the weight of unspoken words were heavy between you.

Tommy broke the silence with a trembling voice, "I've been fighting it, but I can't hide it any longer. I love you. I have since we were kids and every day since that."

His confession left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Emotions swirled within you, a mixture of joy and fear. You had longed to hear him say those words, but now that they were out, a world of uncertainties lay before you.

Tommy continued, his voice filled with sincerity, "I understand if you don't feel the same or if this complicates our relationship, but I couldn't bear another day without telling you the truth. If you have me, I want to be by your side. I'd do anything for you. "

Gathering your courage, you touched his cheek, your thumb drawing tiny circles on his soft skin.

"I love you, Tommy. With everything I have, I'm completely and hopelessly in love with you."

As the weight of unspoken feelings was finally lifted, you found solace in his embrace. The world around you faded away at that moment, leaving only the two of you.

buy me a ko-fi?

#oh well im back #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian smut #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

Text

hahaw [ˈh·a.h·aw] vin. sleep

Anonymous Request: Imagine neteyam being so flustered while confessing his feeing to you.

Neteyam opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again right away. Inside his chest, his heart hammers an erratic rhythm, and he’s sure you can hear it - it’s flooding his ears with pounding beats.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice quick and full of concern. Your eyes meeting his, and he’s nervous, but he can’t break away from your gaze.

You lift the blanket to check his wounds - maybe he is in greater pain, and you should call Tsahik.

He opens his mouth again, and finally speaks.

"I thought I was going to die yesterday. I was... I was surprised, when I woke up today."

You press your hand to his chest. "Don't say that, Neteyam. It's too hard to think about."

Last night, Tsahik hadn't been sure whether Neteyam was going to live or die. It had been a long evening, and only just recently had she informed his family that he was going to make a recovery.

Laying here, covered and bandaged, he still looks so beaten and bruised, and his voice is hoarse and tired.

"The first thing I thought about when I opened my eyes was you. Was telling you, what I feel."

"You are hurting?" you ask, tilting your head to the side. Again, you wonder if you should call Tsahik. She can give Neteyam something to put him back to sleep, to heal peacefully.

"No. Well - yes," he says, a faint smile crossing his lips, "but I wanted to tell you, Y/N, that I See you. That I love you. I thought I was going to die, without telling you."

His heartbeat takes off in his chest, you can feel it under your hand, still resting there.

You remember the night before, when they carried Neteyam, covered in blood you hoped wasn't his, back to the village. How his mother and sisters screamed and prayed to Eywa while Tsahik worked over him for hours. How you balled your hands into tight fists and cried, screaming to Eywa too.

How you realized how much you loved him, and had almost lost him, the moment he opened his eyes.

You lean forward, placing your head delicately on his chest, and feel his hand on the back of your head.

"Breathe slowly, Neteyam. Your heart is beating too fast. You need to heal," you say. "Of course I love you. Sleep, please, and heal. We have time together now."

His heartbeat begins to slow, and so does his breathing. When you lift your head to look, after much time lying there comfortably, you see that Neteyam has fallen back asleep.

Tomorrow, you will tell him just how much you love him. For now, he must sleep.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow

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rainbowtransform · 1 month

Text

The thing nobody tells you about dying, Buddy thinks, is the pain of it. Someone slit his throat, but all he can see is Kristen Applebee’s horrified face, her eyes wide and mouth gaped open as she shouts something he can’t hear.

His heart thumps.

His fingers twitch.

His blood spreads.

Buddy closes his eyes.

He reopens them in front of huge gates, big and yawning. Sunlight drifts off the edges of them and shines through the bars, but when Buddy places a hand on them instead of feeling warm, like how he used to snuggle into his grandfather’s arms when he spoke about Helio and Faith and the love, it’s cold.

Like how cold it felt when he came into Helio’s church after they’d lost his Chosen. Cold and uninviting.

“Buddy Dawn,” comes a voice and Buddy turns his head to see Helio, hair long and flowing and his satchel at his side. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“Lord Helio,” Buddy says, dropping to one knee and bowing as Helio laughs. Light. Airy. Warm.

“Stand up,” Helio commands, one warm hand on Buddy’s shoulder. “Come on, Buddy, you don’t have to kneel like this.”

“Lord Helio,” Buddy says, awed and inspired. “I’m sorry this Chosen could not do what you wanted. I tried my hardest, my very best and I’m so so sorry that I was not what the Church needed.”

Helio helps him to his feet, both hands on his shoulder and smiles at him again. “You were what you needed to be,” he said. “Your father prayed everyday for you to find your way to me, and you did.”

Buddy swallows. “My father?” He questions, one hand going to his chest. “My father is here?”

“Yes,” Helio says. “Your father has been waiting for you, and your mother for many years now. But before that, come. My father and aunt would like to meet with you.”

“Your Lord Father?” Buddy whispers. “Sol?”

Helio wraps Buddy into a hug. It feels like his father’s, it feels like his mother’s, it feels like the Church’s picnics.

It feels like when he was crying over a split knee after his father’s funeral and a red-haired girl healed him with warm eyes, and a grin that showed off her two missing front teeth.

“He’s not too bad,” Helio says. “Don’t worry. Come on. He won’t hurt you.”

Buddy follows Helio to two chair, as large as the sun and one just as bright; the other one glimmering in the sun’s reflection. There is nobody sititng in their chairs, but Buddy knows that Sol and Galicaea are there. Waiting.

Buddy kneels again. He puts his head down and says, “My Lord Sol, and His Sister, Galicaea. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Stand,” Galicaea says. Her voice is cold, frosty despite the sun’s warmth and Buddy trembles. Helio goes to stand on His Father’s right side, where He must stay.

“You heard my Sister,” Sol says, just as cold. Buddy scrambles to his feet, eyes wide. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, but he must have because why are they angry at him?

“Buddy Dawn,” Sol says. His voice is rumbling and despite the sun’s heat, Buddy still feels the coldness in it. “You have quite some explaining to do. My Sister’s Wife has been roused from Her slumber by Kristen Applebees.”

“Lord Sol,” Buddy begins, before—

“Not to mention, when I tried to kill that infernal thing, I was thwarted.” Galicaea says. Her voice is colder than the dark side of the moon and Buddy swallows.

“My Lord,” he says. “With all due respect, I don’t know what I could’ve done. I focused on the Church of Helio, and keeping the Faith alive through the Chosen One’s Leaving.”

“The Chosen One does not leave.” Helio says, still all smiles. “Regardless of what she’s done, she’s always been mine. When she dies, Kristen Applebee’s soul will come here. To our Heaven.”

Buddy blinks at him. “But Kristen hasn’t been practicing.” He says.

“She’ll go to Hell for a couple of millennial,” Helio says. “Somewhere quiet and away from where her friends can’t find her. Just until she realizes the mistake of her actions and then I’ll come in and save her.”

“Lord Helio,” Buddy frowns and Helio quirks an eyebrow before Buddy falls silent. He chews on his bottom lip, sweaty hands wiped off on his pants.

“Enough,” Sol says. “What do you say in the case of your neglect of the My Son’s Chosen One’s actions?”

“I was fixing the Church,” Buddy says, feeling so small in front of these immortals. “I… I can’t be always with her. I’m not part of her adventuring party. Kristen Applebees doesn’t even like me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Galicaea says, leaning forward to tower over Buddy. “It does not matter what she likes or does not. It was your job to keep Helio informed of what she does, so we could stop her. She doesn’t even have a God anymore, and yet she’s been messing with something that she has no right being in. Her and that Hellspawn Tiefling. It’s bad enough that that idiot werewolf is trying to change Me in my own Home, and then that Goddess’ name was uttered from a marriage that meant nothing.”

“Galicaea,” Sol says sharply. The goddess slumps back in her seat and Buddy realizes he’s fallen to his knees sometime she was talking. He’s trembling, he realizes.

He looks over to his Lord Helio, who is looking down at His nails, and when He realizes that Buddy is looking at Him, gives him a thumbs up.

Sol sighs. “There is nothing to be done now.” He says, still sounding angry.

“Then why did you call me here?” Buddy asks in a whisper.

Helio blinks at him, confused. “To tell you what you’ve done wrong, Buddy,” he says. “And to let you know that we’re going to keep you here, despite all your wrongdoing. Because we’re gracious. And kind.”

Buddy has done right all his life. He has followed the word of Helio, fixed the church that fell apart in the night and their chosen one’s departure, prayed daily and nightly for Helio to save the immoral souls of those who do not Follow him or his Father; took an empty cleric’s position in a team of people who were stars, burning themselves too bright and too hot to compete with a galaxy.

Buddy has healed the sick, and helped the homeless, and eased the minds of believers and nonbelievers alike. He has done right all his life.

And his afterlife is stained red because he wasn’t shadowing Kristen Applebees every step of her way. Because he wasn’t keeping up with her news and telling Helio.

(“She’ll be in Hell for a while,” Helio said. “Just until I come in to save her.”)

Buddy snaps out of it as Helio’s hand lands on his shoulder again, smiling and leading him away from His father and Aunt.

“Did you mean that Kristen is still yours?” Buddy asks.

Helio nods. “Cassandra layed a claim on her when She was revived and it would’ve been a battle if Kristen died, but now that she’s dead…” Helio shrugs.

“I can’t just let her walk in, though. She needs to be punished for leaving.” And then Helio smiles again, and points behind Buddy’s shoulder at the small house.

Buddy turns around, and sees a shock of brown hair, a mouth stretched in a permeant smile, and eyes that have always had love in them, despite being milky and never actually seeing his own son. Buddy’s mother always used to ruffle his own hair and ask how Buddy didn’t get anything of his father’s except his smile.

“There’s your dad.” Helio whispers. “He’s been waiting an awful long time.”

Helio hugs him again.

And, like at his father’s funeral, like his first year of waking up to an empty kitchen, and like when the red-haired girl’s mother called her away, despite the warmth of Helio’s hugs and his father’s cloudy, love-filled eyes staring at him, Buddy feels cold.

#buddy dawn #helio d20 #dimension 20 #d20 #galicaea #sol d20 #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #rain’s writing #🤷‍♀️#felt like writing #it might not make sense but hey #I’m working through my feelings

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