#HURTS MY HEART because its the healing they DESERVED

[wordsinhaled]

Restaurant owner/chef Charles / Food critic Edwin AU!!!

So, I just thought of this AU and I am so jazzed about it that I need to drop this idea somewhere so it can become a 100k fic I can devour in one sitting asdfhfhfhf

In an ideal world I’d want to offer the floor to someone Desi to run with this idea, or to collab with me on it because I want to do Charles' food and culture and relationship with his mum justice. I’ve only been adjacent to the restaurant business (my family ran a small café for a bit and I worked there, and I have a family member who did culinary school, so).

I just know that this idea has Arrived in my brain and I can’t just let it sit in there unattended, asdjfjfjf

I'm tagging @nix-nihili and @queen-of-hobgobblers 'cause I feel like this will be up your street???

Okay - so Charles and his mum own a small Indian restaurant. It’s a family business and his parents ran it together ("together") before. Charles’ father was incredibly controlling about the menu, their community partners and suppliers, as well as pretty much every other aspect of the business (and their lives, behind the scenes). Now Charles’ father is out of the picture—I'm undecided how this happens, but I just think Charles deserves to live an unfettered life without Mr. Rowland hurting him anymore, tbh.

He gets to rediscover the joy of cooking together with his mum, cooking as freely as he wants and not being held back by his dad's expectations, refreshing the restaurant's menu to feature more authentic versions of the dishes, making connections with new suppliers, redoing the accounting to pay everybody a living wage... Just generally, like, revamping the entire restaurant to be a more joyful place to be that celebrates delicious food and companionship as a form of connection and sharing. Edwin is a food critic who goes to the grand reopening of the restaurant. Edwin likes to write about and document food. He enjoys experiencing a restaurant and its food possibly even more than the tasting of it. He presents like the uptight, exacting sort of food critic restaurants are intimidated by, with his many layers and his bow tie and his posture and his perfect hair, his little notebook and his vintage pocket pen. But inside he just wants to be able to feel some sort of a connection: with the chef through the food (What is the dish trying to tell him?); with the other person at the table—if there is another person, which is so rare.

Family mealtimes for Edwin growing up were distant affairs, overly formal and stilted and coded, minefields for being scrutinized and speaking and acting in only the most acceptable ways; not places to be honest or genuine or to let one's guard down. Certainly not occasions to experience genuine enjoyment. He wants to believe that food, which is so vital to life, and the preparing and the sharing of it, can be different. Positive. Joyous.

Charles gives Edwin a tour of the restaurant when he arrives. Charles is not like a lot of other restaurant owners Edwin has met. He introduces Edwin to his mum and the way he looks at her makes a pang go through Edwin's chest because clearly, they love each other so much, and Edwin may have never had that but just looking at it heals something in him. He's not getting invested, though. (Right?)

Charles' enthusiasm is like, off the charts. He's practically vibrating, to the point where excitement tips over into anxiety, clearly trying to keep it toned down and failing. And Charles is like, "I'm sorry. Just a bit nervous, yeah? I really care about this place. I need it to—I mean. I really want it to do well."

Edwin's heart goes out to him. "Do not worry," he says, softly. "I am not here to hurt you." He doesn't know why he says it but all the tension goes out of Charles, the slightly frantic look goes out of his eyes, and he gives Edwin the brightest smile he thinks he's ever seen. It's a gorgeous smile. Relieved, and carefree, and warm like sunshine.

"D'you want to try some food?" He says it almost conspiratorially, as though this is not Edwin's primary and entire purpose in being here.

Edwin looks around the quiet, empty restaurant. It's cozy and warm with mid-afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows at the front. Even without any patrons, without the din or bustle of a full dining room, it seems to beckon to foster shared happiness within it. "I was under the impression that I would be partaking of your dinner service this evening," he says delicately, trying to hide that he might actually want nothing better than to never leave here at all, let alone try some food.

"Well, yeah," Charles says, "'course you are. But this is different, innit? Not for the article. Come on, let me cook for you. You look like..." He stops. Perhaps considering if he's about to say too much. His eyes are bright and thoughtful and fixed on Edwin so intently that Edwin doesn't breathe for a moment. "You look like no one's cooked for you in ages." It comes out soft, but firm; as though he knows what he's talking about. Edwin feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

"No one has ever cooked for me," says Edwin matter-of-factly.

He has no idea what it is about Charles that makes him admit something so honest—although it is not entirely accurate. His family had had a personal chef. Technically speaking, all of Edwin's meals had been cooked for him, until much to his parents' chagrin he went off to a student flat, and culinary school, and began to cook them for himself. But he suspects that no one has ever cooked for him, the way Charles Rowland is offering to now. Properly. Like it means something. Like he is trying to say something through it; unspoken words that Edwin has always wanted to hear.

Let me know you. Let me connect with you. Let me take care of you.

Charles' eyes widen. Clearly, he is trying to process Edwin's bleak admission. "Right," he says, after a beat, as his posture gains something determined; his grin bright and charming. "That settles it, then. I know exactly what I'm going to make you."

And before Edwin can say anything else, he's taking Edwin's hand in his and tugging him towards the kitchen.

[plutolovesyou]

omg I know I’m a bit of a yapper with all these ideas don’t mind me, but what d’you think Ellie would be like during aftercare?

sorry about me yapping, my brain is rotted with so many ideas smh

no pls i always need more ideas!! i love these little bite-sized things where i can just yap for a bit instead of being insanely extra like with reqs and other things...VERY CHEESY, TOOTH-ACHINGLY FLUFFY RAMBLE AHEAD:

she'd be real sweet with it, of course. making sure you're okay, cuddling until the sun comes up, she'd run you two a sweet-smelling bath and make your favorite meal, she's just an angel!

right after the heat of the moment was over, the two of you would tangle up in the sheets, warm, still-trembling limbs strewn to all sides, cuddled up as close as humanly possible. chests up against each other, it was like your hearts were holding hands, the way they were beating in synch. she would just melt into you, hold you close to her, your face buried in her neck or chest so tightly, she'd stroke your head and make drawings on your back lightly with her nails. not enough to hurt but gentle as a feather, to calm and establish even more closeness, she loved tracing your smooth skin with her fingers.

after more cuddling, some conversations, checking in with one another and mumbling "i love you"s , she would get up very gingerly, and get both of you a drink of water, then return to bed to sit next to you. ensue more deep talks, pouring your hearts out to each other, telling each other everything. and we can't forget the jokes she cracks, as if its her life's mission to make you sick of her. during all of this though, she wouldn't be able to tear her eyes off of you, she would look at you with such adoration, the visible sparkle in her eyes almost made you shy. "stop looking at me..." you whisper, your face heating up under her stare. she grins from ear to ear and reassures you, "you're just so beautiful, i can't help it!" and you did look beautiful, she was right. it was her favorite thing in the world to care for and admire you. the satisfied post-sex glow looked good on everyone, her as well. pink blush on her features, auburn strands disheveled in just the right way.

then she'd run a bath and get in with you, still holding you close to her. she would wash your hair for you too, and you two would split a face mask for some extra pampering. you felt so loved, and questioned daily if your heart could handle this, because she proved to you endlessly what love really is and how much you deserved.

she would also make your favorite meal, whatever in the world you requested, you could request even something like unicorn steak, and she would immediately be up on her feet in the kitchen, delicious simmering sounds and aromas floating around her. humming take on me under her breath, naturally. bonus points if she wears an apron with nothing under it, lol.

you watch her while you sit at the table, mesmerized by her skillful movements and clear enthusiasm she had for caring for her love. when it was all done, she'd serve it to you with a flourish, "tadaaa, only the best for my everything." she was so smooth with it, always seeking to impress you, and when you tasted it, she watched your reaction with a toothy grin on her face, eager to know what you think. then later on you two would return to the cozy bed, tangling up together once more, but this time to finally fall into a restful and healing sleep, where you would meet in your dreams too. frolicking around hand in hand, you never imagined a better life with her, and were grateful for every day you got to spend by her side. <3

[lcvclywon]

hurt people, hurt people.

back to masterlist

synopsis ᯓ You thought you and Heeseung would last forever, well it seemed so as your 3 year relationship was smooth sailing. But that all changed one night when he abruptly ended things between you two. Now it's been a year and you could successfully say you've healed from the breakup, but when you get a call from him the night before he leaves for uni, that statement might not be so set in stone.

now playing > •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 the grudge - olivia rodrigo

warnings ˎˊ˗ cursing, crying, fighting, toxic relationship, heavy heavy HEAVY angst, err no comfort soz i feel evil

genre ⭑.ᐟ angst

pairings: non-idol ex!heeseung x female reader

wc ᵎᵎ 1.21k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 this is me projecting lolz sorry

Oh for fucks sake. 

You let out a frustrated sigh seeing the caller ID that popped up on your phone. It had been 1 year since you and Heeseung had broken up and quite honestly you were doing great. You had finally healed from ending your 3 year long relationship, you were loving your life, meeting new people, you felt better. But that all came crumbling down when you saw that dreadful notification pop up on your screen.

In all honesty you really should’ve blocked his number, you had done so on every other social media platform, but for some reason you couldn’t really bring yourself to block his number. Whenever you try something simmered in the guts of your stomach stopping you. It was the same sensation you felt whenever you tried to throw away the last letter he had given you for your 3 year anniversary. You had tossed all the other letters, gifts, and sentiments out the second you ended things with him; but you could never bring yourself to throw out that last letter. Perhaps because that would mean Lee Heeseung would truly, permanently, and irrevocably be out of your life for good. But that’s what you wanted…wasn’t it?

Don’t pick up, a small voice in your head whispered. “Hello?”

“I thought you blocked my number” he replied, you could hear him laughing from his nose. Fuck you hated it, you hated it but you wanted to ingrave his laugh into your ribcage. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel so absolutely hollow whenever you forced out a laugh on multiple cafe dates with numerous other men. 

“Well, I obviously didn’t” your voice was still shaky as you let out quivering exhales. Great YN, not even a full 5 minutes into the conversation and you already want to cry. “Why are you calling?” you manage to force out, tone still hesitant. 

“Um-” he started “It’s my last day today, I’m flying out to uni soon…”

You didn’t realise his departure had already arrived. “I know.”

“I just uh-” you could hear from the other end of the line how he cleared his throat, before continuing with a voice mirroring the apprehensiveness of your own “I wanted to apologise, one last time before I leave” 

“Oh…” you mumbled out

“I’m sorry for ending things like that” the moment he said that it all flashed back to you. That night you tried to lock away in the back of your mind suddenly unleashed itself from its cage. To describe your breakup in one word it would be: abrupt. 

“We should end things” Heeseung uttered, leaving you standing there notebooks in hand, mouth agape, and heart absolutely shattered. 

“What are you talking about” you managed to reply with, words choked out and shaking.

“I leave for university next year, I just-” he paused to look down before continuing “I don’t think we could ever be long distance, it’s too much for you and me. You’d still be in highschool and I’d be busy adjusting in uni, it just- I don’t think it’ll work. You were never even really attentive to me when we’re just a few mere minutes away from each other, how could we ever do that long distance?” 

Coward couldn’t even look you in the eyes before breaking your heart. 

“I was, really just an ass-” heeseung continued, snapping you back to the present “you didn’t deserve that and we both know it. I was just- really scared I think, of course that’s not an excuse…but yeah I’m sorry” 

“It’s okay…” it wasn’t 

A beat passes.

Now two. 

You remain in an awkward limbo of deciding between ending the call or continuing the conversation. All the words you had pent up for the past year were on the tip of your tongue just itching to be said, but some part of you just wouldn’t let them. 

“Do you-” he finally says between sniffles, oh great so he’s crying now “did you ever see a future with us?” 

Of course you did, hell you didn’t even expect him to end things and he has the audacity to ask this? What was his issue? “Kinda I guess” you mutter out, barely eligible 

“I did” A lie. That’s nothing but a lie. How could he even see a future with you when he walked out so easily? “I saw a future with us YN, I saw it and- I got scared to be honest. It was a future but it was built upon uncertainty, and I wasn’t ready for that. I shouldn’t have done that though.” 

“Heeseung it’s fi-” 

“Did you ever think about breaking no contact?” he interrupts “I did.”

“Heeseung.” his name is bitter as it leaves your tongue “Stop it. You’re being selfish.”

“Wh-what how am I being selfish” absolutely unbelievable. 

“You’re saying this the night before you leave to uni, the night before you change your phone number, the night before you fly off to a completely new country not giving me any chance to ever see you again. That’s selfish. You were selfish when you broke up with me and you’re being selfish now.” you’re fully crying at this point 

“YN I-” but you don’t let him finish that sentence 

“You know you really aren’t allowed to make my life a living hell for 6 months and then waltz back in like you did no damage-” you choke out between sobs, you’re not even sad now, it’s just pure unrivalled rage and disbelief “You’re not allowed to do that, it’s not fair. None of this was ever fair. How come you can tell me over and over again how I’m never doing enough and beg for me to be more attentive to you then leave and cut me off so easily?” 

The other end of the line remains silent.

“You’re not allowed to be the one to walk out, I wanted to be the one to do that. I was meant to be the one to cut things off, to leave, to walk out. I wanted to be the one to finish things, how could you do that?” you’re clutching onto your heart with a pain you could only remember experiencing once in your life: the night he walked out. 

“YN I’m sorry I really am, I don’t know why I even called you tonight,” he stuttered out before pausing to curse under his breath “I just, I couldn’t just leave without apologising.”

“So what, you wanted to hurt me one more time before leaving?” you spat back, words plagued with anger and remorse 

“I wanted to say that I loved you for fucks sake!” oh. 

You loved Heeseung too, you knew that the moment you laid eyes on him across the basketball court when he shot that three pointer. You knew the moment he flashed that toothy grin. You knew the moment he traced his fingers across your waist as you laid together in the quiet of the night. And you still knew you loved him when he spat out those words that changed your life forever. 

“Bye Heeseung, I really can’t fucking do this right now” 

“I love you YN, I don’t think I ever stopped.” 

You don’t return that sentiment before ending the call

perm taglist (send an ask to be added!) @floweryang @cupidhoons @msauthor @dimplewonie @cholexc @i2ycat @bunnbam @tobiosbbyghorl @jlheon

[its-avalon-08]

it all fell down (ln4)

part7

multipart story! part1 part2 part3 part4 part5 part6

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

Y/N stood by the refreshment table, her mind swirling with thoughts. I need to apologize for what I said, but how? She glanced around, searching for an opportunity to speak with Lando without the awkwardness that had engulfed their last encounter.

Just then, she heard small cries coming from the play area. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Penelope on the ground, tears streaming down her face. Lando was already there, trying to console her, but the little girl was inconsolable.

Without thinking, Y/N rushed over. “Penelope, sweetie, what happened?” she asked gently, kneeling down beside her.

Penelope hiccuped through her tears. “I fell and hurt my knee,” she cried, holding up her little leg to show a small scrape.

Y/N scooped Penelope up into her arms, cradling her close. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small first-aid kit. “Look at you, being so brave,” she cooed, dabbing the cut with antiseptic and blowing on it gently.

Lando watched in awe, a mix of affection and surprise washing over him. She’s always been so good with kids. That’s one of the things I loved about her. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hair flowed around her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made it look like spun gold. Her familiar, comforting perfume wafted through the air, bringing back a flood of memories.

Penelope sniffled, her tears slowing as Y/N’s soothing presence worked its magic. “Does it hurt less now?” Y/N asked, her voice soft and calming.

Penelope nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Yes, thank you, Auntie Y/N.”

Y/N kissed the top of Penelope’s head and set her down gently. “All better. Now, go show Max and Kelly your brave smile.”

Penelope giggled and ran off, her earlier distress forgotten. Y/N stood up, dusting off her knees, and turned to find Lando watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Thank you,” Lando said softly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “You’ve always had a way with her.”

Y/N smiled, her heart aching with a mixture of warmth and regret. “It was nothing. She’s a tough little girl.”

Lando took a step closer, the tension between them momentarily replaced by a shared affection for Penelope. “You were always good at this. At being there for people.”

Why does it still hurt so much to hear him say that? Y/N thought, fighting back tears. “Thanks Lan -Lando.”

Lando started to walk away, his hands in his pockets, the air between them still thick with unspoken words. Y/N felt a pang in her chest, knowing she couldn’t let him go without saying what was on her mind.

“Wait, Lando,” she called after him, her voice trembling slightly.

He turned back, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “I need to say this. I need to apologize for what I said. ‘Maybe dating was a mistake,’ that was such a hurtful thing to say, and I didn’t mean it. Not for a second. Please just hear me out.”

Lando’s expression softened, but he remained silent, giving her the space to continue.

She took another shaky breath and started to ramble. “I was angry and hurt, and I lashed out. You didn’t deserve that. You were such a huge part of my life, and we had so many good memories. You were my everything, my whole world and what I said, it was unwarranted. That should have never left my mouth. You are were the love of my life and that can't change just because we broke up. I’ve regretted those words every single day since. I’ve been trying to move on, but it’s been so hard because I never really let go of the guilt of hurting you. I just want you to know that you were never a mistake. We weren’t a mistake.”

Lando’s heart swelled with affection as he listened to her. She’s always been so passionate, so sincere. That’s one of the things I loved most about her. He watched her struggle to find the right words, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She’s really hurting.

“I don’t know if we can ever go back to how things were,” she continued, her voice breaking slightly. “But I needed to say I’m sorry. Truly sorry, Lando. You deserve to hear that.”

By now, tears were streaming down Y/N’s face, and she wiped at them furiously, embarrassed by her emotions. “I know I messed up, but I never stopped caring about you.”

Lando took a step closer, his heart aching at the sight of her distress. He could see how much this was hurting her, and despite everything, he felt an overwhelming urge to comfort her. She’s always been so hard on herself. She deserves to know she’s forgiven.

He smiled softly, his eyes gentle and understanding. “Y/N, it’s okay. I forgive you. We both said things we didn’t mean. It was a tough time for both of us.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of emotion. “Really? You mean that?”

Lando nodded, his own eyes misty. “I do. We had something special, and that doesn’t just go away because of a few bad moments. We were both hurting. I get it.”

Before she could say anything else, Lando pulled her into a hug. Y/N melted into his embrace, the familiar warmth and comfort of his arms around her bringing a sense of relief she hadn’t felt in years. She buried her face in his shoulder, letting herself cry freely.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Lando held her tightly, his heart full of a complicated mix of emotions. “I’ve missed you too,” he admitted, his voice soft and filled with sincerity. This feels right. Like coming home.

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them fading away. For the first time in a long time, they both felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to heal the wounds of the past and move forward together.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys @sarx164 @imboredway2much @demandealalune e @elz-xo o @bellelovesharryy @hey-there9-its-me @marauders-wife @itsjustfranzi @l-sofiamia-l @ironmaiden1313

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[chaniceroses]

Bad Boys Ride or Die (Armando x Reader) Part ELEVEN

(!! I made this one short because I wanted the last part to be good and long for the readers!! Thank you so much for your patience and support!!!! I will begin working on the Last Part tomorrow!! :) )

ENJOY:

Y/N POV

“I’m so sorry y/n…”, Howard whispered, sitting on the chair next to your hospital bed. He grabbed your hand and held it. His eyes were searching your face for answers but couldn’t find one. The room was cold and although Howard was right by your side while you had heavy security outside of your hospital room.You still felt alone. Tears began to run down your face, they were warm and sharp. It almost felt as if it had hurt your eyes to cry.

“I…I can’t have kids anymore Captain…I can’t—”

“No, no…he said that it would be a miracle, that’s never a no. You just need to heal and allow time to take its time y/n.”, he interrupted.

“We will find McGrath and make sure that you get the justice that you deserve, this isn’t your fault y/n.”

Your heart felt empty, your eyes were swollen and slightly pink from all of the crying that you were doing so in response you just stared at Howard and nodded your head.

“I’m going to go talk to the doctor about your stay. I will be right back, okay.”, 

You watched as Howard got up and walked out of your room. Slowly taking your attention from the door to your stomach, you began to rub it and could feel the stitches that were left from the surgery. Until you started hearing gunshots, throwing your head back towards the door, you could see people running and screaming.

“What the hell?”, you whispered, flipping the covers while trying to slowly lift your body up from the bed.

“Y/N, MCGRA—”, before Howard could finish his sentence, you watched as he was shot several times from somebody behind him. You felt your heart drop and screamed in horror when…..

  “Y/N!!! WAKE UP!!”, Armando yelled, climbing on top of you while softly shaking you.

You opened your eyes to be met by Armando's intense stare, he was examining your trying to figure out what you were dreaming about to have you screaming as if you were being tortured.

Sweat ran down your face while your breathing became heavy, you slightly pushed Armando off of you and sat up in your bed. It had been forever since you’ve had one of those kinds of dreams, especially about losing you and McGrath’s baby. You buried your head in your hands when suddenly, your hotel door flew open while being greeted by hard footsteps. You looked up to see Mike and Marcus standing there while aiming their guns around.

“FREEZEEE…oh”, Marcus  yelled, before looking over to you and Armando.

You were confused at why he looked at you and Armando with a blank and awkward facial expression until you looked back at Armando to see him standing, while covering his member with his hands.

You looked down to see that you were also still naked from you and Armando sexual games last night.

So you quickly grabbed the sheets that were on the floor and wrapped it around your body.

“This is so embarrassing…”, you whispered, getting up while looking at Armando and then at Mike.

You observed as Mike stared at you and Armando. You weren’t sure what was going through his mind but hoped that it was nothing.

“You owe me a hundred dollars!”Marcus laughed, while leaving your hotel room.

“I’m going to go…go take a shower.”, You awkwardly whispered, grabbing a towel and running to the bathroom.

ARMANDO POV

We watched as y/n ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. I wanted to take one with her but by the looks of it, I could see that not happening.

“Like Father, like son huh.”, I sarcastically replied. Grabbing the covers that were on the bed and wrapping it around my waist.

“I’m going to go and get you guys a bag that has clothes in them. Put them on and come to Marcus’s and I room.”, he sighed, walking towards the door. 

“Mike, y/n and I are together now.”, I hurriedly responded while walking up to him.

I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to say that to him but I did.

“I know Armando, I saw it coming a couple days ago.”

“It's a good thing right? She liked me and I liked her and she—”, before I could finish my sentence, I watched as he  turned around and looked at me.

“Look, I knew that you guys liked each other but I didn’t think that you guys would take it this far, Armando. With what you’ve both been through, you guys need to think about it.”, he interrupted, looking at the bed and then back at me.

I was lost, y/n was the one who said that he told her not to play with my emotions however now he’s feeling the opposite.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Armando, what do you think is going to happen once we’re done with McGrath? Huh? You guys are going to run off into the sunset while holding hands?”

I had no response.

“I want you guys together, I do. Even if you hearing this from me, don’t mean shit to you but once this ends…You will still be a fugitive while y/n will be free. So it’ll be hard for the both of you to work that out.”

“Wait, you said that you were going to help me Mike?”, I replied. I knew that what he was saying was the truth however, there has to be a different route. I watched as he searched the room for answers. At first there wasn’t a thought behind his eyes, until his eyes suddenly focused back on me.

“Armando, I have an idea but I need you to trust me.”, he answered, putting his hand on my right shoulder. I couldn’t help but to look at him weirdly. The way he was looking at me, had me oddly uncomfortable. However, I couldn’t help but to be curious.

“What is it?”

“...You’re going to have to take it back…it may not make sense right now but—” “Hell no Mike, are you crazy. Y/n and I just had sex and made it official last night, she’s going to think I used her for her body!”, I loudly whispered, throwing his hand off of my shoulder. Horrible timing Mike. Horrible timing.

“I know but you have to trust me, it’ll work out in the end for the both of you, I promise you that. You have to do it, Armando or I can’t help you!”, he demanded. Before I could respond, I could hear a door shut behind me.

“Mike…Armando, is everything okay?”, Y/n said walking towards the both of us.

I looked back at y/n and then back at Mike and watched as he stared at y/n.

“Yeah y/n, everything is fine. Just son and father things, you know.”, he laughed. Leaning past me to grab the door knob. I watched as he shut the door while I just stared at it. 

A part of me didn’t want to do it, however the other half felt that Mike knew what he was talking about. Shit Armando.

Y/N POV

You stood behind Armando, examining the muscles that swam across his back. You were about to touch his back, when he suddenly turned around. His breathing was short and slow. He was avoiding eye-contact with you and was looking out towards the balcony. Something was wrong.

“Armando, seriously what’s wrong? What was that conversation between you and Mike about?”, you were looking into his eyes for a response. An answer. However, he kept his glare towards the balcony.

So you grabbed his hand and guided him towards the bed. The both of you sat down and you watched as he rubbed the back of his neck. Something was bothering him, you just didn’t know what.

“I love you y/n…so much.”, he suddenly replied, turning his head to look at you while smiling.

“I love you too Armando…you know last night was—”

“But I can’t do this.”, he interrupted, now looking away.

Suddenly the room went silent, you could hear your thoughts and everything that you were feeling now being said out loud. What the hell did he mean that he can’t “do this”?

“I mean..I want to do this, us but with what’s going on I—” “Are you fucking serious, Armando?”, you sighed. You were disappointed. You finally told him how you felt. You poured your heart out to him last night as he did the same but now, he can’t “do” this. Us? You turned to look at him and could see worry across his face.

“Is it..does it have to do with McGrath?”, you whispered looking at him. You watched as he turned to look at you. His mouth was saying one thing, while his eyes were saying another. So you swallowed the lump that had slowly built up in your throat and threw how you felt out the door. Nothing was going to get in the way between you two and you were sure of that.

“We don’t know what the outcome may be today and I feel that we may be moving too fast.”, he explained, throwing his hand out to you. You knew that he was lying. You could feel it and the way he was holding himself told you that he was. That’s when you thought about Mike.

“Well, I pray that this isn’t one of those “using me for my body” situations and I know that I just caught you and Mike talking about something which led to you acting the way you are now—”, you responded, grabbing his hand and caressing it.

“No, I would never do that”, he interrupted, grabbing your hand and holding it a little tighter.

“Mike said that this would be best. With everything that is happening.”, he continued, looking at you.

You were confused. Mike? 

“What the hell do you mean Armando, since when did you start listening to Mike?”

“I listen to him y/n when he makes sense. He said that it’ll be best for us not to be together, just for right now. Since i’m a fugitive and you know with your life and this McGrath shit. There’s just no balance.”, he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

You knew that what Mike was saying wasn’t entirely wrong; however, you were still confused.

“He also said that he’ll help us out because he does want to see us together. Now he didn’t explain how or when but he just said to trust him. And for some odd reason, I do. Me just saying this, doesn’t mean I mean it y/n. Because I sure as hell doesn’t.”, he continued, standing up.

You stood up also and grabbed his hand while looking up at him. Although you were against what Mike said, you knew that you could trust his word.

“Okay Armando, I trust you guys so we will just “play” as if we’re not together around them, at least until all of this shit clears.”, you laughed while caressing his cheek. You could see a small smirk come across his face as he looked down at you.

“I like the way you think.”, he smiled, picking you up. You watched as he leaned in towards you to give you a kiss, which made you respond to it. His lips were soft and smooth. You could feel his goatee mustache run smooth across your face. You found yourself deep into the moment, until you opened your eyes and noticed that he was walking towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”, you questioned

“We’re about to take a shower.”

“Yeah but I just took one.”

“Yeah but it was without me.”, he mocked, carrying you inside the bathroom and shutting the door.

You and Armando took a shower then quickly got dressed to head to Mike’s and Marcus’s hotel room. There was a bag filled with black clothes and police attire for you and Armando to put on once you guys were finished so after you were done, the both of you helped each other get dressed, straightened the room and then headed towards Mike’s room.

You watched as Armando walked up to the door and knocked. After a couple knocks the door finally opens to the two of you being greeted by a crowded room.

“What the hell.”, Armando whispered

“What is it?”, you replied moving from behind him to see Dorn, Kelly, Rita and her husband, Lockwood in the room with Mike and Marcus.

“Took you two forever…”, Mike sighed, signaling for you and Armando to enter.

You followed behind Armando and examined as the energy in the room shifted.  Maybe it could be because it is early in the morning and everyone wants to still be in bed or because of Armando’s intimidating presence.

“Why is he here?”, you asked, pointing at Lockwood and Rita.

You felt that it was odd for him to be there, knowing that he didn’t say anything about proving Howard’s innocence and with the election coming up. He had nothing to do with this operation.

“He is a part of McGraths bullshit”, Mike answered, walking over to the group and sitting down.

“Yeah, Rita found the messages between him and McGrath. He’s behind the files…”

“And the money being transported…”

“And how McGrath found out where everyone lives.”, the group explained while looking at you.

You could feel disappointment,confusion and anger fill your body.

“So, you’re telling me…this motherfucker sitting across from me is the reason why LadyBug is dead?! THE REASON WHY THAT DUMBASS FOUND OUT WHERE I LIVED!”, you yelled now standing up. You were livid. This whole time you had been blaming yourself for Ladybug’s death, when it could’ve been avoided if Lockwood would’ve been a true politician and reported McGrath instead of working with him and allowing innocent people like Ladybug and Fletcher, to lose their lives.

You watched as Lockwood stood up and threw his hands up in defense.

“Look y/n, I don’t know what—” Before Lockwood could finish his sentence, you quickly grabbed the gun that was on the table, jumped over it  and held it to his head.

“YO! Y/N CALM DOWN! —”Mike yelled, walking over towards you.

“FOR WHAT!! HE DESERVES TO DIE!!!”, you yelled looking at Mike and then back at Lockwood. Fear was written all over his face and you loved that it was. 

“You shoot him, I’ll have no choice but to shoot you.”, Rita replied, pointing her gun at you. You kept your finger on the trigger and pushed the gun even more towards Lockwood's head.

“Like hell you will…”, Armando whispered. You turned to see him standing behind Rita while having two guns in his hands. One pointing at the back of Rita’s head and the other at Lockwood’s.

“You guys are married right? Till death do you part? Sounds about right…you’re call y/n.”, Armando scoffed. You couldn’t help but to squeeze the gun, you wanted to see his brain be splatted everywhere in front of you. The way McGrath did LadyBug’s.

“Just wait y/n ... .I have something for you.”, Marcus whispered, walking towards the closet that was next to the bathroom. 

“What Marcus?”, you replied, keeping your eyes on Lockwood. You could see sweat forming on his forehead. He was nervous and afraid. You quickly shifted your eyes to see Marcus walking up to you while holding something in his hand.

“What the hell is that Marcus because I don’t have time for these games…”

“Here.”, he whispered, pushing his hands out to you.

You turned to see glasses in his hand.

“Marcus, what the hell am I supposed to do with glasses?”

“There Ladybug’s.”, he mumbled. “Look at them.” You took a glance and stared at them, they were black glasses with thick lenses. You looked up at Marcus, then at the glasses and then back at Lockwood.

“Those could be anyone’s Marcus, I’m not stupid!”, you yelled. You grabbed Lockwood’s head and held him down. Now pointing the gun at the back of his head.

“Take a step closer to her and I'll kill you instantly.”, Armando whispered, stepping closer to Rita while keeping his eyes on you.

“Y/n just read the arms, they have his initials on it. “L.B” C’mon y/n. We’ll make sure he goes to jail. I promise.”, Marcus reassured, now trying to hand you the glasses.

You sat the gun down while keeping a tight grip of Lockwood’s hair in your other hand and grabbed the glasses. How in the hell did he get these? You moved one of the arms of the glasses and could see Ladybug’s initials clear as day.

“How did you—”

“That night when we found you on the ground…Mike picked you up and took you to the car while I stayed behind and put him on the couch. The way you were crying over him, told me that he meant something to you and I wanted to make sure that you had something in remembrance so I took his glasses to give to you at some point. Once you heal, you know.”, he explained, stepping closer to you.

“Let him go y/n…”, Mike whispered, looking at you and then back at Marcus.

You looked down at the glasses and then at Lockwood.

“Okay..”, you sighed, setting down the glasses and the gun.

“Thank God.”, Lockwood whispered, grunting in pain. Before you knew it, you threw a punch in the back of his head and watched as his body went limp.

You looked up to see everyone shockingly looking at you as if you killed someone.

“He’s not dead, he’s just knocked out. Give him thirty minutes.”, you scoffed, grabbing your gun and glasses, climbing back over the table and sitting back in the seat that you and Armando were on.

“Lucky girl.”, Armando whispered into Rita’s ear, lowering his gun and walking to sit back next to you. You loved the fact that you didn’t have to say anything for Armando to jump and support your actions, even if others were against it. He was there. Supporting and protecting.

“Well while he’s half dead can we please discuss a plan about how we're going to get McGrath.”, Dorn sighed, walking over to pick up the papers that fell off the table.

“We don’t need a plan, we know where he is since we were able to track him from Lockwood’s phone. So let’s just go to him.”, Mike replied, grabbing some guns out of a bag and strapping them onto his leg.

“I agree, no plan, just action. That’s how we roll.”Marcus supported, folding his arms.

“And that’s how we get killed.”, Rita sighed, rolling her eyes.

“McGrath just plans on leaving the country after he kills us and receives the money…”, you added, pointing at Marcus, Mike, Armando and yourself. “So really, we just need to be in hiding and meet him at whatever transportation he plans on leaving on.” You stood up and walked over to the bags filled with weapons.

“No time needs to be wasted so we should probably be heading out in the next ten minutes.”, Kelly replied, gathering all of the information.

Everyone nodded and began to get ready. Strapping up, making sure their hollister were on good and that their bulletproof vests were on tight. You could sense Armando looking at you; however, you ignored him. 

“Something happened between the two of you?”, Mike asked, looking at you and then back at Armando. 

“Nope, he just doesn’t think we should be moving so quick.”, you whispered looking over at him. You watched as he looked at Armando and then back at you again. You gave a small smile, hinting to him that you knew about their conversation from earlier but by the looks of it, he was lost.

“Oh well, I'm sure it’s for the best with that being said… I know that killing McGrath is important for you as it is for me so I want the both of us to be the ones going after him. That way we know that he won’t be spared.”, he whispered. Putting the bag across his shoulders and turning to face you. You finished getting ready and tied your hair back that way it wouldn’t be in your face. You were happy that Mike was on the same page that you were on.

“For sure.”, you agreed, looking over to the group. You watched as Mike grabbed the keys that were on the counter and signaled to everyone to start heading out.

“This should be fun.”, Dorn mumbled, picking up Lockwood and throwing him across his shoulders. You watched as he walked past you, allowing Lockwood’s head to be slightly thrown everywhere. You couldn’t help but to chuckle until Armando walked up to you.

“You ready.”, he smiled looking down at you. 

“Yeah lets go—” Before you could finish you were interrupted by Kelly walking up to you.

“Y/n, do you remember that video that I told you Howard left for you. The personal video.”, she whispered, looking back at Rita and then back at you. At first you were lost but after a while of allowing your thoughts to catch up, you were able to recall the conversation between the two of you.

“Yeah I remember, you were going to send it to me.”, you replied

“Yeah, I decided to not send it to you but to put it on a disc…I couldn’t help it, I felt that what he said was extremely personal and that you would need to hear it maybe alone. Nothing bad just very, heartwarming you know.”, she smiled, handing out the disc to give to you.

You grabbed it and then looked at it. You were very curious about what was on here however, you wanted your mind to be sat on today’s operation.

“Give it to me after the operation, so that I can have something to look forward to watching.”, you smiled, handing it back to her. You watched as she grabbed it and nodded her head in response. Walking back towards Rita and sparking a conversation with her while she helped her finish packing.

“What was that about?”, Armando asked, turning around to follow you out of the room.

“Some video Howard left for me to watch by myself, I don’t really know.”, you replied as the both of you walked down the long hallway.

“Well, What I do know is that…whatever happens today, I want you to be—”

“Tell me after the operation Armando.”, you interrupted, keeping your focus on the elevator. 

“Huh?”, he asked as the both of you stood in front of the elevator doors waiting for it to open.

“Tell me once we kill McGrath and we both make it out alive, not now.”, you whispered, walking onto the elevator.

You watched as he followed behind you onto the elevator. There was a weird presence in the room, it wasn’t tense, but it was soft. Accepting. Danger was slowly creeping towards you while you were running towards it. This was a suicide mission, and you knew it and so did everyone else. You must’ve gotten lost into your thoughts because you suddenly felt Armando’s hand slowly hold yours. You looked down at it and then up at Armando to see him looking at you. Although a word wasn’t said, his eyes were having a conversation of its own and you understood every bit of it. You turned your head back towards the doors, held his hand tighter and let go of the breath that you didn’t know that you were holding. Allowing the silence to consume the both of you and for time to slowly reach its ending point.

[back2bluesidex]

Afterglow - JHS

Pairing: Husband!HoseokX Wife!Reader

A follow-up drabble of Girl Crush

Theme: Angst, arranged marriage au, hurt to comfort au, little bit of fluff

Wordcount: 1.6k+

Request: "Afterglow with hoseok. Where the reader and hoseok had a fight, and hoseok walked out, which left the reader thinking about the argument. thank uu💓"

Summary: Hoseok looks at you, smiles at you, and makes conversations with you unlike Yoongi. Hoseok’s eyes are full of warmth and adoration for you unlike Yoongi. Hoseok feels for you, unlike Yoongi.

Based on Afterglow by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: angst, reader was previously divorced, argument, some annoying aunties, mentions of divorce, past relationship, broken marriage, that's all

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: You guys are really persistent. Most of you wanted a follow up of Girl Crush. But I had 0 mind of doing so. So, I turned this request in a drabble and made it into the part 2. Hope you guys like it. And no more parts will be added to this.

If there are 100 people in this room right now, then 80 of them want to be at your place, in your shoes. But you would sign your soul to the devil to be anyone else other than yourself. 

You are not being cocky, neither ignorant… you just can’t take it anymore. 

Being rich doesn’t mean you are the happiest person in the world, but quite the opposite. At least in your case.  

Being rich means losing your right of loving a person and being loved by them as you are nothing but a pawn that is to be exchanged at the right time through the right deal. 

Being rich also means you will be traded again and again even if you are a worn out, old, rugged piece because there would be someone always trying to buy you at the lowest possible price. 

That’s how you landed on your second arranged marriage (as if the first one had not broken you enough), your second husband and this is the second time you feel like you are falling and breaking, crushing your soul, exhausting your emotions to its extent. 

Three years ago you got married to Min Yoongi, someone you loved and someone who loved someone else. 

It’s been two years since you divorced Yoongi. It’s been two years since you walked out of his home with a broken heart.  

Yes, your love life certainly didn’t gain anything out of your and Yoongi’s broken marriage but your father gained what he was promised with.

For a year, you tended your broken heart, your insecurities, you made yourself believe in the fact that you indeed deserved to be loved. Just because your first husband didn’t love you, doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. 

Just when you were at the peak of your healing, your father decided to sell you off once again. This time to a larger empire, holding more power, more wealth and endless benefits for your company.  

“It’s only been a year since my divorce, appa! How can you sell me off once again?” You had cried, screamed at your father for the very first time in 27 years of your life.

“Dal, Mr. Jung made the proposition. He said you have caught his son’s eyes! How could I say no?” he reasoned. 

You didn’t say anything more that night. For once you contemplated running away somewhere far from all of this. But your rationality didn’t allow you to leave your old father embarrassed and helpless. So you stayed.  

And, this is how you ended up here, tugged at the side of Jung Hoseok, your husband. 

Hoseok looks up at you with apologetic eyes and you know he is sorry. 

This is one of the thousands of differences you have found between your married life with Yoongi and your married life with Hoseok. 

Hoseok looks at you, smiles at you, and makes conversations with you unlike Yoongi. Hoseok’s eyes are full of warmth and adoration for you unlike Yoongi. 

Hoseok feels for you, unlike Yoongi. 

But the question is do you feel anything for him? You don’t know. 

Or maybe you do but you are way too afraid to start feeling again, to start loving again. 

“But darling, why her? She divorced her previous husband within a year!” Mrs. Lee, one of the shareholders of Jung Group of Companies, exclaims in her high-pitched voice. Even though she’s trying to keep her voice as low as possible, or at least pretending to do so, you can hear her clearly.   

The hold of your drink goes tight. Mr. Kang is complementing how good you are looking tonight but you can barely hear anything. All you can hear are the taunts that the old snitch is throwing at you. 

“Mrs. Lee, it’s business.” you hear Hoseok saying and all of a sudden everything around you turns dark. 

You whip your head to meet Hoseok’s eyes but he is avoiding looking at you. 

Within seconds your vision starts blurring. So, the impromptu dates, the youtube recipes, the sweet gifts, that luxurious honeymoon, those late night beers.. Everything was for business? 

You were wrong the entire time you thought you had seen love in Hoseok’s eyes? 

All.. all of it was business?

Or was it pity? 

Hoseok knows everything about Yoongi and you. Is that why he treated you kindly?

Your life feels like a lie and once again.. You see your hopes crumbling down like a house made of cards. 

“Why?” you throw your purse on the couch and stand abruptly in the middle of the living room. 

Tears stream down your face. You successfully suppressed your anger for the better part of the night but it is impossible to do so anymore. Since you and your so-called husband are alone now, he better answer your questions. 

The tremble in your voice hints Hoseok that you are crying. He takes long strides and reaches where you are. 

Placing a hand on your shoulders, he turns you around and murmurs, “Y/N? What-” 

He tries to wipe your tears away but you swat his hand, “why were you always so kind to me? Why? Because it’s business or is it because you pity me?” 

“Y/N.. No. it’s not what you think. I told her-”  Hoseok tries to hold your trembling form with both of his hands but you push him away as harshly as possible. 

“You told her because it’s true. All of those gifts and dates and dinners.. Everything, everything was a lie!” screaming at the top of your lungs, you break down. 

Hoseok runs towards you, tries to hold you in his embrace. 

“Don’t.. Don’t fucking touch me!” you seethe through anger. Hoseok retreats. 

“Okay, I won’t.” He replies calmly but you can see his eyes filling bit by bit, “but just so you know, you were never business for me. Mrs. Lee only shut up because I said what she wanted to hear and she is not a family or a friend so I would have to explain the truth to her.” 

“No- don’t. Don’t lie!” your voice comes out harsher than you intended to.

“You think I am lying because I said something insignificant to someone insignificant just today but what about everything I did to make you realize how I feel for you?” Hoseok’s voice trembles. And it hurts you but you are hurt as well. 

“You don’t feel anything for me. And you, too, should know that I don’t and won’t feel anything for you.” your heart breaks at the lie you throw at your husband but the way tears run down his face.. It instantly makes you feel like a criminal. 

“Is that so?” he asks, sniffing once, “then.. I should leave you alone.” 

Before you can register what’s happening, you hear Hoseok walking out of the door and shutting it loudly enough to signify his departure. 

And then you start wailing, loudly. Your cries fill the empty space of your apartment as you realize you are all alone once again. 

Staring at the moon always brings you solace but tonight it doesn’t. Your mind keeps playing whatever happened a few hours ago and how hoseok left the house. 

He has always been so kind to you, from the very first day you two met at a charity gala, some five or six years back. You didn’t really acknowledge his presence much as you were always busy admiring Yoongi from afar. 

You remember Hoseok once saying that he looked at you while you looked at Yoongi. You were not sure what he tried to mean but that was the first time your heart took an erratic pace in a while.  

A phone suddenly starts vibrating, pulling you out of your thoughts. But it’s not yours. Your eyes find the glowing object near by the door. It’s Hoseok’s phone, which he probably dropped on his way out. 

When you reach the object and pick it up, the screen glows again. There are a couple of notifications, which you clear for seeing the background. 

It’s a photo from your honeymoon. The photographer ajussi forced you to stand closer and place a sweet kiss on Hoseok’s cheeks. He blushed hard that time. 

Sobs start spilling from your throat as soon as you realize what you have done, what you have lost. 

You blew things out of proportion, you put him in jail for something he didn't do. You unloaded all of your insecurities on the man who only loved you.

Clutching his phone on your chest, you start crying again. It’s you who burned things down. It’s you who hurt Hoseok. And now you have lost him, really lost him. 

The door clicks open, forcing you to look up from your crouched position. 

“Y/N..” it’s him, it’s your man, it’s your husband, Jung Hoseok. 

He walks towards you but then remembering something he takes a step back. 

His eyes are red. You know he has been crying just like you.

“I- I forgot my phone-” 

Before he could end his sentence, you leaped at him. You hold him tightly in your embrace. Hiding your face in his chest, you cry, cry and cry. Hoseok holds you back and starts sobbing with you. 

“I love you. I fucking love you so much that it hurts, Y/N. It hurts when you don’t understand, when you turn blind eye.” He says as he strokes your hair softly. 

“I- I was afraid, Hoseok. What if I was wrong again. What if- what if you didn’t-”

“I always did, Y/N. I have loved you for a long time. I loved you when you were a bachelor and I loved you when you got married. I loved you when you divorced him. And I loved you when we took vows. I still love you and I always will.”   

“I love you too, Hoseok.” you finally confess and it feels euphoric. You must have found utopia where the person you love, loves you back. 

Hoseok leans down, seals your lips with his and now you know… You have found your forever. You have found your afterglow. 

[wenamedthedogkylo]

I already said this in my other post but this really deserves to stand on its own and honestly I'm crying over it so it has to get written down somewhere, but when Bor'Dor took a pull from Ashton's pipe, the smoke turned into an image of him shooting a Fire Bolt at the janky, creepy, lovingly set up dummy that the Hells had made for him. The target that his own targets made out of admiration for him, out of affection, out of genuinely wanting to see him grow his potential.

Ashton's pipe showed that the greatest, most heroic moment of Bor'Dor's life was casting Fire Bolt at that target, and getting to celebrate it with the rest of the Hells. It was feeling accepted for the first time in his life. Feeling respected. Feeling like he belonged, like he and his magic belonged and weren't some horrible, dangerous thing that they would fear him for or would have a temple come and cart him away for.

These people—who he somehow either followed across an ocean or luckily ran into—who he specifically stayed with because he intended to kill them for sabotaging the Ruby Vanguard's plans. For killing "his friends" in Marquet.

These people were the ones he finally felt accepted by. Not the Ruby Vanguard.

He gave Ashton the first piece of mental relief and relaxation they'd felt in years, maybe ever. He gave them jerky, and made them fruit leather, and caught a little fish and had Prism Enlarge it to make sure they could eat. Was he telling himself it was just to ingratiate himself to them, to get closer so the knife would be easier to twist? When did ingratiating himself become "I wanted you to like me"? Did he have to keep convincing himself it was all part of the plan, that he didn't really like them, that he didn't want to keep them alive but he had to to get his revenge, that he could let them die at any moment and this wasn't just him getting attached because how could he get attached to people he meant to kill?

Did Bor'Dor realize, in the moment that he decided to try killing them in that cave, that the Vanguard had only ever seen him as a weapon? That his "friends" who'd died in Marquet (he'd watched Ashton throw some of their bodies out of the Hole just days ago) wouldn't have sought revenge for his death the same way, because he was nothing more than a tool for one man's schemes? Did he realize he had more in common with Orym who'd lost all his loved ones to Ludinus and Otohan and the Vanguard—with Laudna and her myriad of terrifying, beautiful magical gifts and her desire to do good with them—than he'd ever had in common with anyone in the Vanguard?

Is that part of why he just tried to run?

It didn't have to be this way!

Bor'Dor healed most of the group right after fighting the Taker. He knew that his Vitriolic Sphere probably wouldn't kill all of them, that they had health potions and could recover. He just needed to get away. Get away so that they couldn't come after him, and he didn't have to see how he'd hurt the only people who'd welcomed him into their hearts in years, and he could tell himself that maybe they did die and he'd fulfilled his mission, and could tell himself too that maybe they didn't die and he hadn't actually killed his only real friends in the world.

I saw you! In Marquet! You murdered my friends!

Was he really still angry at the Hells for killing Ruby Vanguard members? Or was he trying desperately to fight back against how much they cared about him? How much they had genuinely reached out and taken him in? How much it was going to hurt him to hurt them? Was he trying to cling to his original purpose, so that he could ignore how much it hurt to kill the first people who'd seen his magic and said "you're amazing" and meant it? Who'd said "can I try something", "what else can you do", "it's nice to know I'm not alone, because you're in the same boat as me"?

And when he gave up... when he didn't try to fight back... when he begged for the end because there was no point anymore...

The Vanguard wasn't enough to stay alive for. And he'd just betrayed the only people who'd ever completely accepted him. There was no point anymore. No point in fighting. No point in living. He was done. He'd had enough.

Bor'Dor Dog'Son deserves his peace. I'm glad he got it.

[lady-ashfade]

Thank you: Soft moment between You and Demon Slayer characters.

Notes: Man, I should be asleep right now because about to be but in a coma by my heart rate- But no, my brain wants this. Only tanjiro is a romantic choice but it still up to you.

I read the motherly HC’s by @midnightwriter21 and i couldn’t help but want to do something to. Thank you for the comforting idea that heals me.

Reader: Female, and sweet and caring. Very motherly.

Characters: Tanjiro Kamado, Nezuko Kamado, Muichiro Tokito

(Romantic/ Platonic)

It had been years since he felt truly at home somewhere. It wasn’t just comfort of those around him, he had nezuko and that was all he need. No matter where he was he had her, and his founded family. But here, with you, was something familiar but distant…

The house smelled of cinnamon, he woke up in fresh clothes and sheets under him. He was warm and felt at peace. He had no idea why this didn’t just feel like a safe house. When he woke up he saw his clothes cleaned and repaired, the holes and blood stains no longer in them. And a cute hair pin for nezuko, which she was hopping up and down for.

When they made their way down the hallway the sweet smell got stronger and it made his mouth water. Nez was the first one to open the kitchen door and rush in, with a hum and a brightened look on her face.

He felt his heart warm as you smiled sweetly at her, flour on your cheek and sweat on your forehead from the warm room. “Come sit down,” you move your hands to show a nicely made sitting area with plates already prepared. “Hope it’s to your liking” He looked at the plates, nez couldn’t eat the food and he felt bad to bring this to your attention, until he looked closely. It wasn’t food at all but pretending food, like for children to play with.

You felt so homely to be around, like one his mom used to have. “I’m also making cookies, because you deserve it.” Tanjiro just looked at you for a minute and let his body take in the feeling of warmth. The sunshine in front of him with all its glory..

He was very grateful and thanked you, he shouted at how nice you had been to him and that he would make up for it. But you refused any help he offered around the house. So for the short time he stayed there, he cherished every second.

(Platonic)

He had never met anyone as gentle as you and he wondered how you got into this line of work, or made it this far without being killed. You weren’t a demon slayer, but a doctor for the near by demon slayers. You ran a safe house, cooked and clean and hosted anyone who needed it.

You ran your hands softly along his arm with some medicine that was cold, he just sat there. He could barely feel you, and he knew if it wasn’t for the medicine being cold he wouldn’t feel it at all. Usually, these things sting the wound but that didn’t happen. “You should get some rest when I’m done here, I’ll bring you a change of clothes.” You smiled at him.

He just looked plainly at you and slowly blinked, but speaking to you. “Do you prefer a red or a blue tooth brush?” What kind of question was that? Really, why would he care. A few seconds you realize he wouldn’t crack but that didn’t hurt you in the slightest. People take time, or maybe they never open up at all. It didn’t matter, as long as they are happy.

You patched him up from every scratch to every bigger wound. You never once let go of your smile, or didn’t try and talk to him when he wasn’t comfortable in doing so. The silence wasn’t filled with tension, it was calming to say the least. Your carful touches and your soft breaths, it was almost like being taken care of a mother…

You stood up when you were all done and clapped your hands slightly together and opened a  cabinet. Pulling out a few things, a blue toothbrush, a small towel, a pair of socks and what caught his eyes the most…

A blue lollipop.

“You don’t have to eat it, but all my patients get a treat.” Your voice beamed as you hand him the candy. He stared at it confused and then back up at you. It was very soft, like not even a inch but his lips curled up. “Thank you.” He said quietly.

You just giggled and help him to his room. He didn’t know why you just smiled and acted like a angel. But, it was a nice change.

(Platonic)

While tanjiro chopped firewood, something he begged you to let him do and wouldn’t stop asking about, she had a moment alone with you. She sat beside you, the sun had just set and you did some of your work.

You hummed a sweet tune as you wash the clothes, in your own little world. She stared at you and enjoyed the sound, it was nice to her. Maybe it was a glimpse of the passes when her mother would sing to her and her siblings. Whatever the reason, she was loving this moment.

That was until you stop humming the song, maybe it came to a end but she glared slightly, not mean or anything but in confusion. You heard her make a sound and found her staring at you with her head titled to the side.

You just smiled, “What is it, Nezuko?” You asked with a cheery tone. She just inched closer and tried to hum like you had, her nails pointing at you. “Oh, is this about my humming?” You chuckle as she nodded her head at a rapid speed. “Do you want more?”

When she agreed you smiled, continued to hum a new song your mother had once taught you. A weight pressed on your shoulder and your heart flutter in awe. She closed her eyes and listened to you continue to make the sweet sounds, her face happy and calm.

You knew this moment was more important to you. The place got lonely at times but with the siblings staying you couldn’t help but feel a hole being replaced. It was healing for you in a way, to hum for her like your mother used to do when you slept.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Hey, this is my first time sending you a request. I'm so glad that you're getting back in to writing.

Can I request Steve Rogers × reader based on Taylor Swift's Champagne problems but with happy ending please 💖 (I'm a sucker for happy endings)

Thank you for sending a prompt! I hope you like what I spun up. I'm definitely a sucker for happy endings, too, and I love Taylor Swift's music too, so this prompt was right up my alley.

Worthy - Steve Rogers/Reader

Mature - 18+ only!

You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a year. When a journalist is out to get you, you will have to stand together and come out stronger.

Romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff & hurt/comfort, protective Steve Rogers.

Word Count: 2,045 words.

Warnings: Press being nasty. Reader has unspecified past trauma and unspecified mental health issues as a result. Self-esteem and self-worth issues. Sexual content (not very explicit).

Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative (AI) continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption, with Steve as the Head Strategist and Tony as the Director. The Avengers are living together in the Tower - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.

I do not own anything Marvel related or the Taylor Swift song. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

AUTHOR MASTERLIST | AO3

You heard the door of Steve’s floor of the Tower open and close and curled yourself up tighter against the corner of the couch as if doing so would make you disappear. You hugged your knees tight against your chest and hid your tear-streaked face from the world and your boyfriend, whose steps you now recognized even without seeing him.

Despite its impressive size, the piece of furniture refused to swallow you, and when Steve’s footsteps reached you, you were still there. Shame burned your cheeks. He’d come after you, even after you’d practically run out of the lovely, loud New Year’s Eve party upstairs, leaving mid-conversation while he’d been at the bar getting drinks. He would’ve had the courage to stand up. He wouldn’t have just run away.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he breathed out, and you felt a pang shoot through your heart.

Steve deserved better than this. Wasn’t that the whole point?

“I’m sorry,” you murmured to your knees.

“Love, please, look at me,” he said, and the sheer pain in his voice gripped your heart and squeezed tight.

You managed to lift your face up to him and weren’t sure what to make of his expression. Sternness, as if he was preparing for an impact. Sorrow. Despair. God, you had done this to him. It was supposed to be a fun evening, with both of you dressed to the nines, Steve in a navy three-piece suit and you in a matching evening gown and in professionally done hair and makeup, which you were fairly certain had not budged even now.

“Can I sit down?” he said, and you nodded.

He lowered himself on the couch, and reached a hand towards you, stopping mid-air, and then letting his hand rest in his lap.

“What did she say to you?” he asked, and as you shook your head, continued. “Love, I need to know.”

You did not want to talk about this. You did not want to remember the journalist’s gleeful face as she’d oh-so-innocently dropped the fact that she had somehow gained access to all the things you had never wanted to become front-page news in the kind of gossip rags you certainly didn’t want to be featured in.

“She knows,” you sniffled. “She knows, and next week everyone will know I’m not worthy of you.”

“Hey,” Steve said. “Hey, come here. Please. Please don’t talk like that about yourself.”

You should not. You should let him go, be grateful that you’d been his for over a year, be grateful for everything you had been given, and accept that he deserved better than someone like you. As the journalist had so kindly said in between the lines. Someone with your history certainly wasn’t worthy of being the girlfriend of Captain America, or god forbid, Mrs. Rogers.

And yet, it was impossible to stop yourself, to rob yourself of the solace only Steve could give, the warmth, the safety. You went to him when he opened his arms, crawling into his lap and burying your face against his neck. For a few minutes, his palm just ran over the jewel-covered back of your dress. You’d felt so beautiful today, and now you felt thoroughly rotten.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed out after you’d stopped shaking — you only realized you had been shaking when it stopped.

He was sorry? What the hell was he sorry for? The sheer surprise at his statement made you lift your head and shift to straddle his lap so that you could meet his gaze properly. His hands settled to rest on your hips.

“Steve?” you asked, and the sigh that left him seemed to originate from the very depths of his soul.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I… If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t be infringing your privacy. I’m a public figure, whether I want it or not, and you shouldn’t… You shouldn’t have to cope with anything like this because of that. There’s nothing, nothing to be ashamed of about what you’ve gone through. And I am certainly not ashamed of you. But you should get to choose whether you disclose it or not. And now you can’t, because of me.”

He was gritting his teeth, his jawline so sharp it could’ve cut bulled-proof glass, and it occurred to you that of course this would happen. Of course he would end up blaming himself for this, for failing to protect you from the bad side of being a superhero in the limelight.

“Steve…”

It broke your heart to look at him. You knew he was right about the fact that there was nothing to be ashamed of for having a bad past and having struggled with mental health and having needed therapy and other medical assistance because of that. But he was also right that it should’ve been your choice to talk about in public, if you wanted to.

“It’s not your fault,” you murmured. “I just… I shouldn’t be ashamed but I am. And I’m ashamed of that. And I just… When she started talking about it, I just panicked, I just had to get out of there. I’m sorry I left so suddenly.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, the back of his hand gently swiping the tears on your cheeks away. “It’s okay. It’s private; I am so proud of you for everything you’ve conquered, and since there is no putting this genie back in the bottle, I will be so proud of you if you want to spin this into you becoming an advocate for it. But I will be just as proud of you if you don’t want to do that. It’s tough, having the public eye on you, and I’m sorry I pulled you into this out of my selfishness. She had it the wrong way — it’s me who is not worthy of you.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you huffed. “You stop that nonsense at this instant. You couldn’t control it any more than I could. I chose this. I am here because I love you, and I’ll be damned before some stupid gossip rag writer takes that away from me.”

He looked at your stern face, and his forefinger trailed the edge of your jaw — as if he didn’t quite believe you were there. There was an awestruck expression in his eyes.

“There she is,” he breathed out. “I love you so much. You are so strong. And you very much are worthy of me. More than I could’ve ever wished for.”

You swallowed. There was a light on his face, something so kind and pure that it was impossible to resist, breaking through the clouds of the earlier conversation.

“So you aren’t mad at me?” you said with a tiny voice, and the shock on his face shot through your chest — before he could ask, you offered an explanation: “I ruined our night.”

“She ruined our night, and I’ll make damn sure her press privileges to AI events will be removed,” Steve said through gritted teeth, and a very, very pleasant — if out of place — shiver shot down your back. “But I am not mad at you. Not in the slightest. I want to be with you — I loved you before you told me, and nothing about that changed then, or now. It isn’t something that defines you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You let out a soft breath, resting your forehead against his. Adrenaline was draining from your body, the panic reaction settling as Steve’s comforting presence made its way into every cell in your body, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake.

“You can’t protect me from everything,” you murmured.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, a sigh leaving him.

“I know,” he said. “Sometimes I just wish I could. But what we will do is get the legal department on this, to see if there’s any way we can stop it — and see if they can find out how the hell she got access to it in the first place. It’s the kind of personal medical information that probably can’t be just aired out.”

You nodded, but you also knew that stuff like this tended to find its way through the grape wine, even if the legal department was able to stop it from making front-page news. Steve seemed to read your thoughts from your face and gently brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“But regardless of what happens, I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll always be there for you, honey.”

You leaned your face into his hand and let the knowledge of that wash away the bad emotions still lingering inside you. You would have to live with your past, but Steve was right: it wasn’t something that defined you, and he would be there.

“I know,” you whispered. “And I’m so grateful I have you, love. You’re the best boyfriend I could hope for.”

Something lit up in his eyes; it seemed like he was almost grinning, even as his smile changed only a little, and his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. He trailed the movement with his eyes before meeting your gaze again.

“Well, I was actually wondering if you would give me a promotion?” he said, and now he was grinning even as your brow furrowed.

A promotion? From being a boyfriend…?

Oh.

Oh.

You swallowed, and you were fairly certain your eyes were the size of saucers when he reached for the inner pocket of his suit jacket. But could he mean…? He would never joke about this but this was ridiculous and silly after what had just happened and…

It was just right.

When he produced the little blue velvet box from his pocket, your eyes were brimming with tears for an entirely different reason.

“I actually had a little different plans for us tonight,” he said softly, snapping the box open with one hand and taking your hand with another. “I did intend to take you to the roof when the fireworks started and get on one knee there, but I… It’s about us, love. It’s for us and for no one else, and I think you know I wouldn’t just ask this to make you feel better. But I think the right course here is to not let anything ruin our night.”

Your heart raced in your chest. The oval blue sapphire, flanked with two smaller colorless diamonds in a platinum band — and really, smaller was a bit of a stretch here, with how the ring would likely be visible from Jupiter — glimmered in the soft light of the living room. It was gorgeous and your hand was shaking just a little in his grip. You managed to tear your eyes off the ring and look into a different kind of glimmering blue in Steve’s eyes. He swallowed, his voice just a little thick despite the soft smile on his face.

“You’re the one I want, love, and I love you more than anything. You make me a better man every day, and you give me a reason to fight. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?”

Somehow, you managed to speak. Somehow, even as the world was spinning, your throat felt thick, your eyes were glazed over with tears, and your heart was exploding.

“Yes. Yes, Steve, I will. I would. I do,” you babbled, and he laughed like a spirit of a cloudless summer day when he pulled you in for a kiss.

“That last one you’ll have to wait a moment to say,” he whispered between the kisses. “But I look forward to hearing it, more than anything. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And after he slipped the ring to your finger, he stood up from the couch with you still on his lap and carried you to the bedroom. And when he took you apart again and again with the meticulous care of a strategic man, when he whispered words of love and desire into your ear, when he murmured praise onto your skin, you felt like you were exactly where you belonged.

With him.

In his embrace, it was impossible to feel anything but worthy.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

HENLLOO ✨️💖

I have this idea for some time, and it's something I wanna write one day, BUT I think you'd really like this idea bc it's hurt/comfort and Santino at the beach! I'm curious about your thoughts or if it's inspiring yk 👀

Santino having a wound, that's not fully healed, or not healed at all and he wants to go to the sea to feel that salt kinda "bite" his wound, he wants to feel that pain because he thinks he deserves it or whatever other reason.

John tried to talk him out of it just because he knew it would hurt, but then again, sea water could help the wound heal faster. So, John insists for Santino's own safety that he goes with him. And eventually Santino agrees. Of course it hurt and burned, it's salt on the wound and Santino maybe thought it would be easier but it hurt a lot.

Santino wants to make himself suffer even more 😞

AAAAAAAA this one cut DEEP for me!! Your asks are so good lately (well, always, but especially this one). It's so dark but honestly this is a topic that I love to write about and I think it says a lot about Santino and what he's going through. What a brutal scenario, Santino is really suffering. But John is there to make sure he's safe and build up his self-esteem, as always.

Also, as a note: the ocean is not recommended as a source of salt water to put on a wound even if it does help sometimes, because there's bacteria in the ocean! So don't try this at home.

🖤💙Salt in the Wound💙🖤

TW: self harm via salt water, attempted self harm via breaking and punching things, blaming himself for abuse, concerns over potential suicidal behavior (there is none actually attempted), Dead Dove Do Not Eat

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“I am not leaving you alone like this!”

The bedroom was wrecked in every way that wouldn’t be permanent. Pillows and blankets thrown around the room, the desk overturned, even the curtains torn down. John had stepped in to stop Santino from tearing up his own poetry, but he’d let him flip the chair and splinter its legs against the floor. And why was all of this happening? Because Santino had been punished by a High Table emissary. The Adjudicator and company had approached them in the middle of the Continental lobby, informed Santino that he had broken some inscrutable rule John didn’t even know about, and then slashed him across the gut in front of the whole room of people.

After the wound was patched up he had just sort of…gone quiet. It was obvious he blamed himself. He brooded all the rest of the day, until finally John pressed him about what was wrong and he exploded.

“Fuck off, John! Get your hands off of me!” He had Santino’s arms pinned behind his back so he wouldn’t punch the walls. Reluctantly, he let go, and just as he’d expected, Santino lunged towards the wall. John was too fast and put himself in front of Santino’s fist before he could make contact. Santino stopped short, flushing even harder at the frustration of having to restrain himself in that state.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Santino stared at him for a long moment, his jaw set hatefully. Then he turned to walk out.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Through clenched teeth, “The beach.”

Their home was only a short walk from the ocean, and in this mood, Santino could make it there in five minutes. Horrifying scenarios flashed through John’s mind, of Santino walking out into the ocean and never coming back. His heart did a sickening sort of drop. “Why?”

Santino whirled back to him with his chin in the air, the picture of passive aggression and mock innocence. “Salt water is good for healing wounds. You want me to take care of myself so badly? Fine. Maybe I want to go for a swim.”

“That will burn like hell.”

“GOOD. But it’s healthy, so you can’t stop me.”

John practically growled in frustration. He couldn’t argue with that. He just grabbed his coat. “I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not invited.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

Santino’s scowl softened for a fraction of a second, replaced by something miserable and touched. But then he just growled back, grabbed his swim trunks, and marched out the door without another word.

They were silent on the walk to the beach, with the sun sinking down against the waves in reds and oranges as fiery as Santino’s expression. John began to hope that he’d cool down by the time they got there, but he had no such luck. Santino stripped down immediately and threw his clothes in John’s face. He would have laughed at the pettiness of it if he didn’t know how much pain was raging inside of Santino right now. So he just caught them and folded them neatly over his arm so they wouldn’t get covered with sand. Then he crossed his arms and watched from the edge of the water.

With his shirt off, and then his dressing thrown to the ground as well, John could see the red blooming across the slash on Santino’s side. The wound wasn’t deep at all, but it looked awful. It was long – an arc from the top of his ribcage on the right side to below the navel on the left. And it was still bleeding.

Santino took a first step into the water and already flinched. The evening wind was picking up and it was ice cold. “Maybe you should do this tomorrow,” John suggested. “Like noon? When it’s warmer?”

The very idea of sparing himself any pain seemed to just make Santino even more furious. He only turned back long enough to glare at John and then suddenly dashed forward, until the waves were up to his stomach.

Based on the sound he made, it couldn’t have felt good. It was a kind of yelping scream that he bit off with a long stream of swearing in Italian. John frowned hard. He knew what that felt like – he’d been in the ocean after a job before, by necessity, and it stung something awful. But all he could do was watch helplessly. At least Santino was standing still now, and seemed to be reconsidering. He even took a few steps back until the cut was mostly above the water line again.

But irritation with his own weakness seemed to give him a second wind. He plunged back in, up to his chest this time, and screamed again. This time, John couldn’t tell if it was pain or frustration or self-hatred, because it gave out into sobbing. He was crying so badly that John was worried he was going to double over into the waves. “That’s enough. I’m coming out.” He kicked off his shoes and trousers, set down their things, and waded into the frigid water.

He wasn’t sure if Santino heard him or not, because he didn’t move at all until John’s arms were around him.

“Come on, love. Let’s go back to shore, yeah?”

“No. I-I deserve this.” Santino didn’t hug him back. He just stood there shivering terribly.

“Why?”

“Because I fucked up! They had to punish me. And I’m so angry, John. I’m so angry, and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even be angry at them. I just have to play nice because I’m powerless and it’s all my fault.”

“No you don’t. You’re allowed to hate them. You don’t have to hate yourself.” He realized they weren’t just talking about The Adjudicator, but about everyone who had hurt Santino. Especially those who he didn’t couldn’t bring himself to hate. His own father. The water swirling around their bodies was deathly cold and John felt himself starting to shake too, but he ignored it and held Santino as close as he could.

For a second, Santino cried harder against him, but it seemed to bring some kind of cathartic release. Finally, he went calm and hugged John back. He seemed drained. “Okay. This hurts too fucking much anyway. Cazzo, I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” His heart was still racing against John’s chest, probably from sheer pain.

“Yeah…I’m not surprised. Let’s go get the salt out, I brought stuff to take care of it so it doesn't hurt as much on the walk home.”

So Santino allowed himself to be led back to shore. John wrapped him in a towel and poured a fresh water bottle over the cut to rinse it. That stung too, and he was already back to whining about the pain, but John didn’t mind. As long as Santino didn’t want to make himself suffer. He kissed him hard. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He melted into the kiss and stayed curled up against his lover, trying to regain some body heat, but he couldn’t bring himself to reply.

“You didn’t, Santino. They did this to you because they’re on a power trip. Because the whole organization runs by making people feel trapped and small, and it pisses me off.”

His answer was slow and very quiet. “Honestly…I don’t want that to be true. If that’s true, then I have to do something about it.”

“Yeah.” John wove his fingers through Santino’s curls and studied his face. He was so precious, so fierce, so full of life. A world in which a person like Santino could be hurt over and over again until he wanted to hurt himself too wasn’t one that John could stand for. “We have to do something about it.”

[cephei-ea]

Genshin - Argument pt2

Characters: Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: You walked out after an argument and the guys are a mess

Warnings: cursing, mentions of assault, mugging, car crash and murder/kidnapping, ch*lde content, no HCs for this one sorry😔 Can be read as a stand alone but it may be confusing, refer to part one for a full experience. (Argument, genshin 2)

A/N: can you tell i rushed the fuck out of this after realizing how long it’s been since this was requested? This is not my best writing I have to admit my heat wasn’t in it for some reason and I’ve been super busy. I was hit by some old man in a sudan a few weeks ago and I only recently healed so I just finished. Enjoy

___

Diluc

Diluc ripped the blazer pulled taut around his strong torso off and discarded it haphazardly on the floor below. The material clacked together and landed with a dull thud with its weight in front of the fire. He stood, ripping his gloves off of his hands and loosening the shirt constricting his airway.

He hadn’t experienced true panic in a long time but the thought that you were most absolutely pissed off with him gave him chills that ran violently through the vertebrae of his spine. The fact that you up and left, intensified those chills. He was unsure whether you would be back tonight, next week or ever at all, but even considering entertaining the idea of you never returning to him made his blood boil beneath his veins despite his years upon long years of steeling himself and building walls up around himself. In his mind, you could do no wrong and if his dear lover had deemed it necessary to leave the house because something he said that had stung so badly, it must have been true that he deserved it.

Ripping the leather gloves from his hands, his skin crawled at the image of your back facing him. At the idea that you were somewhere he couldn’t find you and that you could have been in immense danger. At the sour, fist clenching reminder that despite the long hours of search he conducted for you, it proved inadequate, Diluc slammed his hands aggressively against the nearby ebony console stand. In one swift, yet piercingly angry motion, Diluc had belted every set of papers, folder, candle and any other item on the surface, to the floor. The crimson seeping from his hand did not cease for a moment and instead smeared against the wood of the console stand. The fire wielder dragged a hand through his unruly red hair and found that the knots building in his locks had become out of control. The hair tie used to keep his hair from his face was proving inadequate after so many hours of running and panicking.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trashing his office and then another 30 spent roaming the winery aimlessly in search of the strongest liquor he had and knocking down anything in his way, Diluc sat down at his couch. With his messy thoughts and scrambled heart, the building was left in total shambles.

The fire in front of him was dimming, the numbness and amnesia it’s bright light and the buzz from the alcohol he managed to dig up gave him, at once began to fade. Luckily, with his worried heart and a pounding headache, the world favored Diluc and allowed him to find sleep. Though his rest was all but pleasant, Diluc awoke a much more sane man. His irrationality from the previous night of delirium had worn off and he was ready to ask around for you. Call in as many favors as he needed.

Against his plans and his wishes, before the redhead could manage to sit up, an aggressive, dull pounding emerged beneath the skin of his forehead. He fell immediately back onto the couch, gripping his head, skin wrinkled with pain. For a moment, Ragnvindr did not attempt to so much as open his eyes again until he was sure he wouldn’t fall on his ass or vomit the second he watched the world spin. What woke him, albeit the pain all over his body and the protests his muscles screamed at him, was the sound of the doors to the winery opening.

Had he lost his mind?

Diluc must have lost his mind.

The maids and butlers wouldn’t be here for another hour or two and the building, still, was a mess. To say the least. He shot up from his seat, praying that when he turned to the door, he would find a servant that arrived early, rather than a customer.

Not only were his expectations not met, but they were far, far exceeded at the same time. Instead, Diluc found himself staring at you as you gaped at the mess burdening the building. Your jaw all but dropped, wide eyes staring at the shattered glass of a vase he swore he liked when you asked him, papers and an old telephone from an antiques store you two visited in your free time left forgotten on the floor. Everywhere. Looking up, you noted that Diluc himself, had been mirroring his panicked mind in the state of his winery. His hair was ruffled and knotted, clothes from the night prior still glued to his body.

“Diluc what the hell happened!? Did someone break in!?” You shouted, kneeling in front of a flower vase nearby and lifting it back into place. You liked that one, thankfully it was intact. A painting of you two in your 2 year long honeymoon phase was tilted on the wall. “I leave for five minutes, Diluc!! What happened to you, why are you bleeding!?” The vase as well as the painting, however, were both quickly forgotten. You instead lent your focus to your lover, crawled out of the couch and staring at you like you weren’t real. A thick white wrapping of bandages covered your abdomen, wrapped around your waist and the smallest of patches of red had seeped through the side. Where the glass shard from earlier had hit you. Dilucs mouth hung agape, he couldn’t find the words to say to you before you were kneeled before him. Using your strength to gather him in your arms and help him up. Though it didn’t require much effort on your part, Diluc could feel you picking up the pieces right in front of him. The pieces of his heart that had dropped when you left. He was quick to wrap his muscle corded arms around your neck and hold you against him.

“I’m... so sorry.” He didn’t lift his head in fear that if he did, you would be reminded of what he did, and leave him again. “Don’t go. Please, don’t.” The red head was only put at ease when he felt your secure arms hold him back. And though your hands didn’t reach far enough to touch around his back, Ragnvindr had never felt so at home and so relieved than in your warm embrace. He finally allowed a sniffle to escape him; but was sure to block you from the view of the countless tears slipping down his cheeks. “Where- where can I go without you?” This failed, however, as it was all too clear that you’d heard his quiet sobs of relief and the desperation in his voice. The last question in his mind was whether or not you would forgive him or not. Whether or not you could move on and forgive his outburst. The fit of rage that had left a small gash on your abdomen. And even if you could find it in your heart to accept his apologies, Diluc knew this night would be branded into his memory with a hot iron rod. His fingers tightened against your clothes and the knight could swear he felt his knees weaken when he saw the blood staining your side. How could he ever recover from this? From such a wicked sin? He couldn’t, for once, imagine the day he would forget hurting the single most important person to him. The idea itself was so repulsively vile that his stomach tighten with the weight of his actions. He gently pressed his hand against the wound, through the pain seeding through his own skin. “Darling, I don’t have the words.” He shied from your gaze, constantly blinking away the tears that threatened to spill again. What could he say to you? How could he know what you were thinking?

“Okay- okay, Diluc come here.” You placed a hand against his and gently pried it from your side, instead placing your lips against his knuckles when you felt the tremble beneath his skin. And the crimson dripping down his arms and outlining his veins. “It’s alright-“

“It’s not. It’s not alright.” He suddenly spat, eyes having softened upon watching as you forgave him.

“Diluc it’s okay. I wouldn’t lie to you, alright?” The knight latched onto your hand so tightly, you feared it might have fallen off, should he have let go. “It’s okay.” Small sniffles, and another sob erupted from your ever stoic lover. Finally the walls of the strongest man you knew were coming down and you were awaiting readily to gather him in your arms and accept every apology he chanted.

Ch*lde

As soon as Tartaglia’s key alights his car with its colored LEDs, the gas pedal is nearly floored. You couldn’t have gotten far, surely. Surely, you were okay with all of the snow and slush caking the concrete roads at this ungodly hour. Surely, you would have kept a level head while driving and ensured your own safe. All the same, Childe gripped the steering wheel like it was keeping him from losing his shit. That it was. His eyes, burning bright and blue searched every bus stop, every bench, every dark sidewalk where you may have stopped.

“Crash reported ahead.”

His navigation blared, pumping a newfound level of fear into the blood of his popping veins. He never imagined a few words could end with the love of his life running in search of escape from him, of all people. That it could have resulted in the possibility of losing you so suddenly. That the consequence to his mistake would have been so grand. The ginger ground his teeth to dust, pressing on the gas until he was doubling the speed limit. Still, not a gust of a wind of your presence or merely your scent, whatsoever. Nevertheless, his speed did not hinder him from checking the car parked on the side of the road, it’s hood decimated horribly by a girthy tree. The second he did not recognize the vehicle, he sped on, sighing a breath of relief he had no idea he’d held in until the moment it escaped him. Childe could not comprehend all of the terrible things that might have happened to you in this cold, icy weather. Nor did he want to. The guilt from his having said something cruel enough to make you leave crushed him under its weight alone. The ginger wanted to pull out his hair. Might something have happened to you during the time which you were meant to be under his protection, his worries would not have lied with his reputation. But in the fear that you would not return to him.

Childe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, blaring his horn at a slow car in front of his. He didn’t have time for this. No time to wait for you. No time to wait on this perfectly sane person. No time to be waiting around for you as if you’d fall into his hold once again. He could not, Childe opted, give you the time to consider leaving him because you really would this time.

“Piece of shit.” He seethed through his teeth, swerving past the small Sudan as soon as a clearing to the side of the road opened wide enough. And it astounded him above all else, really, how fast you must have been going to have avoided his sights for so long. The wind howled, the blizzard seemed to pick up significantly, ice and snowflakes blaring at his window. It took the ginger all too long, too much driving, too much fear, too much gas to finally catch sight of the car you’d taken. Seeing it, a newfound relief washed over him like a tidal wave and he floored the gas pedal again. Childe thanked the good heavens that the freeway the two of you had entered was fairly unoccupied. Between the cars and the lanes of the road came opportunity for the ginger to swerve skillfully between tanks of metal in order to finally approach yours. You were quick to make your exit not long after, however. He was glad you didn’t seem to notice his car following you but as he thought about it, Childe hadn’t thought about what he would do when he found you. At the time of his chase, he had been too panicked to decide on how he would get you back home to him.

The car you’d picked came to a stop in front of the ocean. Though you couldn’t see the moon nor the stars, the blizzard seemed to have calmed momentarily. Hopefully, you thought, long enough to dip your toes in the freezing sea water and distract your mind from the screams of the argument you hadn’t resolved.

Childe watched you exit the car slowly, hair blowing wildly in the wind and frost almost instantly forming on the soft locks of your hair. You hadn’t expected it, despite the weather, to be so difficult to move your legs. To step away from the car you two shared and in your mind, just one step farther from a solution with your lover. Walking away from that car was like walking away from him, so your lead-heavy legs worked like steam engines to push you forward with your hesitation. It did not pass the harbinger how you had removed your shoes and left them in the car, reddening your toes and making your fingers tremble from the sheer cold. His panic hadn’t dissolved, however, and Childe struggled to unbuckle himself as quickly as possible. His lithe fingers fumbled hurriedly against his buckle and the car door handle. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fortunately for him, you stopped dead in your tracks the moment you heard his car door shut behind you. With wide eyes meeting his, you paced backwards.

How did he find you? You didn’t know. You thought you’d been sure you sped enough to escape him, even if he’d followed right after you (which you weren’t actually expecting). Just as quickly as you met his eyes, he’d sped to you so quickly you couldn’t back up. Childe looked livid, volatile and like if you said the wrong thing, he would turn red and explode. So you kept your mouth tightly shut when he picked you up and quite literally shoved you into his passenger seat. Finally sitting beside you once more, he looked to you, the windshield, down at his lap and back to you again. His hands trembled, unsure of whether to touch you, support his pounding head or slam against the wheel in frustration.

“What are you thinki-…. What were you thinking!!!???” Childe screamed at you, wiping a palm against his mouth in an attempt to calm himself. “Can you even fathom how afraid I was!? There is a Snezhnayan blizzard out here right now and you want to hit, what, 110 on the fucking highway!!?? Are you out of your mind!?” His eyes were red, a sudden change from his blue irises. “What if you crashed!!?? Huh!!?? What the fuck do I-…” he covered his mouth for a moment before continuing. “What am I supposed to do? If I can’t find you one day?” His tone was soft now, cold and shaky hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice and head resting against his forearms.

“You’re yelling at me again?” You spoke after many too moments of silence but Childe didn’t so much as lift his head. “Is this how you want it to be? Constantly screaming and cursing at each other over things that can be prevented?” You were sick of seeing merely his orange tuft of hair. How could you get him to meet your gaze? “How do you think I’ve felt for months now, Tartaglia?” The ginger immediately shook his head and for once leaned back into his seat.

“Don’t say that. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name.” The harbinger was long past recognizing his mistakes. His issue now was his guilt. Because, yes, he definitely knew how you felt. Those nights coming home half breathing had flown past him. Never would he have thought that they affected you so deeply, had you not said something. And at those times when he was so very tired, so very sore and ultimately craving sleep and nothing more, screams of displeasure and fear from his lover we’re of his least concern. He imagined you felt the same way at that moment. Listening to him scream about how you could have died had the highway not been so fortunately empty was likely nothing but a passing nuisance to you now. Hearing his harbinger name form on your tongue cut deeper than any wound he’d earned in battle. That name was reserved for those he did not trust and those who did not care for nor trust him either. The only name his ears craved to hear you speak was Childe, Ajax or a pet name. Now after such a long day and so much stress and screaming and driving, Childe swore he was going to have a heart attack if you continued using that godforsaken name of his.

“Try again. Maybe an apology, Tartaglia- why don’t we start with th-” you retorted, unprepared for him to cut you off with yet another scream.

“-That’s not my name!!!” He still wouldn’t opt to meet your eyes but you could tell he craved to with how his head shook. “I’m sorry. Okay, I’m sorry.” Finally his eyes were visible and you leaned forward to put yourself in his line of sight. Hesitant but relieved you didn’t seem angry, Childe finally complied. “I didn’t know it was so important and I brushed it off because I really didn’t think much of it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, if I knew it pained you this much I never would have ignored you.” He fought a small battle in his mind. Whether to try and grab your hand and selfishly soothe his own nerves with the softness of your skin or to allow you to come to him. He placed his shaky hand open in front of you, fingers bent and aching to enclose around yours. “Please. Don’t use that name.” If it made him feel like he’d lost you, it was clear you did not care. But when you placed your hand in his scarred palm, his fingers reacted like the teeth of a Venus flytrap and ensured you could not let go of him. He’d felt so sure of himself when he thought that you were overreacting when you scolded him for returning home hardly alive. Of course while it was clear to him how dangerous his line of work was, it hadn’t occurred to him that it would pain you emotionally as much as it did him physically.

“Okay, Childe. Tell me honestly. If me driving in the snow was so scary, how would you feel if I returned home every day from now on on the brink of death and bleeding into the carpet? Just imagine it-“ You’re voice shook with each word, holding back tears of frustration at the reminder of how much you despised the night time upon catching sight of his bandages again. The harbinger shook his head furiously in an instant. Then he did again, even more aggressively this time and his nails dug into your hand. He didn’t want to imagine that. He couldn’t. You reciprocated, knowing that he could imagine the stress he’d caused you. “Childe because I can’t-“ you clasped a hand over your mouth for a second and dragged it down with the tear that slipped past your defenses. “I can’t keep seeing you like that.” Your voice was a whisper and Childe took that as his queue to stop being pathetic. After all, he was the one who cursed himself to death or a fate worse than death a mere few minutes ago. A life without you. “And I can’t… literally can’t handle it. I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry. I never imagined you felt that you’d rather die than stay with me. If you felt that way you could have said something. I’m not here to hold you down and if you- if you di… die-“ your tongue went rigid. Hiccups and small gasps of fear erupted mortifyingly from your throat. You couldn’t finish your sentence fast enough before your lover yanked you into his embrace and curled his muscle-corded arms around you.

“My god I didn’t mean that. A life without you is worse than death. A life without you is stripped of meaning. Is bland and colorless. I can’t do…” he smooshed your face into his warm chest and you muffled a sob into his chest. “Cant do without you.” He rested his cheek on your head and rubbed it snuggly into you. “Love you so much. Cant leave me okay? Okay?” He chanted with a voice so genuinely dripping with honey that you quite literally melted into his arms. Your body went limp in his hold apart from your hands gripping the back of his black t-shirt. “You’re not leaving me. You can’t.” He smiled to himself, eyes red and trained on your smaller figure smooshed like slime to his. You only hummed in response. And if that meant you would die before leaving him; and if it meant he would kill anyone before letting you leave him, you didn’t care.

“Okay.”

Dainsleif

If Dainsleif had gone insane, he wasn’t sure. But waiting for a few hours at your shared house had never felt so long. Nothing had felt so long. The blonde could brandish his achievement of living for centuries at any moment. And it was clear in his appearance, his intelligence, experience and demeanor that he’d had already seen more than he could handle. He’d experienced wars, heartbreak, torture, decades in complete solitude with no one to care for nor anyone to care for him. When you came along and lit a small wisp of a flame in his heart, it made all the difference. He found himself quickly addicted to your smile and the way your heart beated for him and him alone. You made as much clear. This warm love for you was not exempt from becoming a problem, however. Though Dainsleif would never admit it, he loved you sincerely, cripplingly and cruelly. Dainsleif found himself searching for you at his lowest, with you at his highest and when without you, paralyzed. You'd forced your nimble fingers into the cracks of his shielded heart and wedged it open, finding a way to corrupt his steeled mind to depend solely on you and your affection in order to survive. He knew then, when you'd left him in your house alone that you'd succeeded. The moment you shut the door and whispered his greatest nightmare to his face, the blonde couldn't breathe. He stumbled over himself when his legs instinctively took action to catch up to you but it was almost immediately that he failed. His boot caught on his heel and Dainsleif almost went tumbling to the wood floor.

Should he follow you? Should he wait here? Should he call you, knowing there was no chance you wanted to hear from him? He was lost when it came to you. You were the only one who could ever rule him completely disoriented. It took him a long while to realize he had been taking himself in laps around the living room. His mind raced faster than his heart. Where were you? Were you okay? What if you’d been kidnapped or mugged or assaulted or raped? He felt his blood run colder than the endless snowstorms that ruled Snezhnaya at the prospect of not being sure whether or not someone had their rancid hands on you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Any sailer would have been proud of the string of prays and curses Dainsleif muttered every few seconds. As long as you returned, he told himself. As long as you came back to him unharmed and alive, everything would be okay. That obsession he had with you had, somewhere along the way, had given Dainsleif the irresistible urge to brutally disembowel and skin alive any person who spoke to you for too long. Anyone who smiled just a little too much beside you. If he said he hadn’t hunted down at least one or two people for crossing a line with you, he’d be lying. Now, however, the only solution to his guilt ridden mind was to have you chew him out.

You, nevertheless, were too plagued at the brain with thoughts of insecurity and doubt to even think of returning home to your worried lover. Your mind drifted to his scrunched face, angry tone, and the phrase that lived only in your nightmares until that day. The nightmares you would wake from in a cold sweat, yearning for his reassurance and affections. Hoping so dearly with everything within you that you would never screw up bad enough to receive such a world ending look directed at you. Dainsleif was usually hyper aware of your doubtful mind. Sensing the moments when your insecurities surfaced in the slight stilling of your dulled eyes or the way your fingers twitched. Tonight, you realized quite vividly he hadn’t noticed a single one of those signs.

Instead, the worried man was questioning whether you were alive. Or if, instead, you’d been stolen off the streets at the ungodly hour it was. Maybe you’d been hurt. Or raped. Or murdered. What scared Dain the most, above anything in the universe that could possibly frighten him, was the unknown. More especially when it came to you. Not knowing where you were, if you were healthy or okay. Not knowing what to do in order to soothe his heart pounding through the gaps in his rib cage and attacking his chest. While his impenetrable immortality was a benefit when it came to protecting you, if you were not there to be protected, Dainsleif was the most powerless man on the planet. And he couldn’t stand the feeling of knowing that if you were screaming for his help to save you at that very moment, he wouldn’t know until later that night when the police arrived at his door with news that you’d been stolen from him for good this time. And that moment would crush him under the weight of every syllable. And his world would legitimately collapse within an instant. And his sanity would shatter like a cheap wine glass in front of his very eyes. And his life and his purpose would crumble away.

If you should have returned home, you didn’t know. What was clear to you was that you were ready to make up with him. Whether he wanted you there or not, you were unsure of as well. But you were prepared to pack your bags if he asked it of you. If what he said was true, in that extreme moment of anger, then it would be better to remain there, at the beach you walked down as you released every milliliter of terminal heartbreak in the form of every tear your eyes could manage. Avoiding the thought of him was impossible; as you’d found a long, long while ago, without being dead. Dainsleif occupied and owned every fiber of the pathetic excuse for a brain you called your own. Any waking moment was lived entirely in hopes that maybe he would praise you, give you a kiss or lend you some of his precious time. And now that your world had crumbled before you, you weren’t sure of how to react. Sure, there had been nights were your dreams turned to nightmares in which Dainsleif would leave you, abandon you or incidents like these would occur. But similar to dying in a nightmare, you’d woken up before they progressed and were left to dread every idea of an outcome. Now that those vile words had actually been directed towards you, all that preparation to feel indifferent about heartbreak over the years went out of the window. As you sat silently and pathetically alone by the water, you sobbed with fear. Fear that you weren’t sure of how to react. How to move on. How to respond to his humiliating confession. How was it possible to move past this? You’d wanted to believe so desperately that you were dreaming still, your brain finally able to fabricate some form of a story to break your heart again. Alas, you heard your lover speak it with his own lips. And ignoring the invisible fist gripping your heart painfully, you stood with shaky legs and a trembling lip. You knew what was to come.

Now, whatever you may have thought was to come, definitely had not looked anything like that. Arriving home to find your calm, collected boyfriend ripping his hair out. Like literally he ran in laps around the room, hands gripping the light of his locks and letting an unnatural amount of hair fall to the floor. You cringed at the awful state of your home. Had the house been ransacked in that short period of time you’d been gone? And was Dainsleif so disoriented that he would let an intruder tear your home apart to such a degree? Why was there a knife lodged into the flat screen tv that took you three months to save up for? With part of the carpet torn up from the floor and the biggest knife of them all gripped tightly in your lovers hand. Of course, that wasn’t the least of it. Plenty of other sharp objects had been stuck into various spots around the room, a plate or two shattered on the kitchen floor and your dining table quite literally knocked over.

You were surprised at the level of shock Dain must have been experiencing considering the fact that he didn’t so much as notice your return to the house for a few minutes. You stared in awe at the prospect of your sweet lover making a mess of the place. He’d never been one for a mess, for trouble and certainly not for any kind of chaos. Being as calm and collected as he was, it was out of character when Dainsleif whipped his head to you with wide, red eyes when your keys fell with a tension shattering clatter. It was like he’d seen a ghost with his hollowed irises. Had he truly been jumped in your absence? If he had, it wasn’t like your immortal lover was incapable of defending himself. He was more than adept at subduing any threat that crossed his path.

“Dainsleif what happened in here?” You asked in genuine concern. He could only open and close his mouth in shock, likely not having had expected you to return. And most definitely not having a word to say in response. In all honesty he, too, did not know how the apartment managed to reach such a state. More than likely, the disheveled rooms were a reflection as well as a result of the delusions he’d fabricated in the confines of his own mind. It showed in the trembling of his fingers that were gripping another knife he planned on throwing into some other expensive piece of furniture.

“You… here… why-when did you-why did you come here?” You hardly had to ponder the answer to his question. You knitted your brows together, confused beyond belief.

“What do you mean why, Dain? I live here. With you. Remember?” You scoffed, trying to imagine a reason behind his clear outburst.

“You haven’t… chosen to leave?” The five words he’d spoken out of fear in that moment told you everything you needed to know. He was afraid. He’d expressed his grief and crippling fear in the destruction of countless items in your home together. Finally— and likely for the first time that night— Dainsleif looked around him at the chaos that had ensued. It would take a burglar effort to cause as much damage in a number of hours that Dainsleif had in only one. It astounded him what he was capable of when he didn’t put his mind to it. Truthfully, he’d felt so many negative emotions for the first time that night that the memory of destroying the house was but a fleeting concern. Now with you having returned when he could have promised that you were to leave him, Dainsleif teared up.

“No! Why would I leave you, Dainsleif that is ridiculous! Did you do this shit!? What are you, five!?” It’s clear in your tone of voice that you’re not happy with him, but Dainsleif could not care less about how angry you would be with him. Even if he hugged your leg with sweaty skin and teary cheeks, at least you would interact with him. Thankfully he opted to refrain from touching you. You looked angry. Confused or overwhelmed. He couldn’t tell which. You looked so troubled that despite his desperation for you touch, he wouldn’t risk losing you.

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered, straining his wilting muscles to stand up. You weren’t mad. Not with the looks he gave you. Not with how much he loved you so preciously. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said. Dainsleif wasn’t the type and never had been. You weren’t stupid; well aware of the fact (especially with the disorder in your home as a consequence to your absence for a mere hour or two) that he had regretted what he said. The look in his eyes when your eyebrows furrowed at his question reassured you of it.

“Dainsleif I’m not mad. I just wouldn’t have taken you as the type to trash the house in a hissy fit in a matter of, what, an hour?” His face scrunched with what looked to be discomfort.

“No! Please don’t do that. Be upset with me. Hit me.” Was he angry?? Surely not. He stepped closer to you and gripped your wrist. Thrusting your hesitant hand against his chest and repeatedly slamming it against himself, he looked as though he would cry. “Yell at me.”Watching your lover as he lifted your hand once more and hit it harshly against his face broke your heart. Thud after thud, he was unrelenting. “Hit me and label me with terrible names. Hate me.” You began to bawl. Maybe your arm pulled back in protest but Dain had always been stronger. Smarter. More experienced. You couldn’t overpower him or his insatiable desire to feel you release your anger onto him. You tried. And with all your might to stop him from forcing your hand against his skin. To stop even yourself from leaving such red marks against his skin. “I’m sorry.” Now he slowed. Suddenly he loosened his grip on your hand; it hardly mattered. Your guilt ate you alive. You made him feel this way. If you’d had no heart to be upset with him for what he’d said, now you certainly had no right. You weren’t even strong enough to tell your lover to stop hurting himself. It hardly mattered whether he would retain the damage or not. Never would you lay a hand on the man you loved. Dainsleif, however, could say the same thing when it came to how tears spilled down your cheeks. He’d been the cause despite his endless promises to protect you.

“Don’t make me do that to you.” Your wrists fell from his hands. “I could never do that-“ your sniffles must have ripped courage from Dainsleif. He’d found the strength to wrap his arms around your smaller frame and crush you against him. “I could never hate you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Burying your face into his warm chest, you kept a mental note to speak with him. I’m the moment, your priority would be to hold him in your arms and drill the fact that he was long past forgiveness into his heart.

___

Thanks for reading

Sorry for the delay, it will be a normal occurance

[drabblesbyjubs]

Caress

Astarion x gn! Reader; your boundaries on where Astarion can touch you and where you can touch him have always been a little fuzzy, but he struggles to word what he means when attempting to simply tell you where he doesn’t want to be touched. He tosses out an idea, and the two of you explore your comfort zones. This could be seen at a pt 2 to Just Need Time, its very soft and fluffy, sort of building on that healing aspect.

Fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity, some minor sexual content but no actual smut, trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, minor spoilers for Astarion’s story in act 3, minors go bye bye pls

I wrote this on my first day at my new job. This fic was born in the kitchens of a nursing home

Intimacy was always daunting to Astarion.

Emotional intimacy was close, it was vulnerable, it was a means to exploit. And it was terrifying. Physical intimacy was a task, something Astarion struggled to enjoy.

More than a few times he had feared you leaving him because he couldn’t provide the intimacy you deserved. He wasn’t always emotionally available, sometimes we was so apathetic he feared you would be disgusted with him, but there were some things he just couldn’t care about. Even if he wanted to, caring was vulnerable, and it wasn’t allowed. Survival of the fittest.

He was next to never physically available for intimacy; either he completely zoned out before you even got his pants off, the thought of a hug lingering too long sent shivers down his spine, or a hand on his hip pulled a fear response from him, making his whip around to face you, ready to push you away.

You were so understanding that it hurt.

Never once did you judge, never once were you angry or upset. That was almost worse than you being angry; just not knowing what you were thinking. The uncertainty was horrible.

Uncertainty over how you thought of him, uncertainty of where he even liked you touching. Sometimes your soft, romantic touches made his heart soar; they were safe, there was no fear, no ulterior motive, only you, at face value. He loved those times. He wished he knew them more. There were so many little places he was and wasn’t okay with you touching him, he couldn’t even keep track of them.

Maybe it was worth finding out.

..

“Darling?” Astarion approached your tent, and you looked up from the book you had been reading, smiling when you saw that handsome face you’d come to love.

“Astarion,” you greeted, setting down your book and standing to meet him. He hugged you, and you held him close. It seemed he was feeling a little touchy today, and you didn’t mind one bit.

“I wanted to talk. Is… now a good time?” Astarion questioned. You felt a pit of nervousness in your stomach; he looked serious.

“Of course, come with me.” You said, leading him in to your tent and shutting it behind you. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

Astarion grabbed your hands tenderly, and you felt nerves twist in your belly.

“I know I haven’t been the best to you.” He began, immediately filling you with doubt and confusion.

“Darling, of course you-“

“Please.. let me get this out.” He gently kissed the back of your hand, and you shuffled nervously.

“I haven’t been the best to you. I’ve been reclusive, and I know you deserve better. The.. the thought of losing you is terrifying. I want to be more open, give you what you deserve, I just… dont know how. I… have a favor to ask of you.”

You gulped nervously. This didn’t seem like he was trying to break up with you… but the way he spoke in such a self deprecating manner, it was so concerning to you.

“What is it, hun?” You asked.

“I.. want you to help me learn where I can and cant touch you. Where you can and cant touch me. I suppose I… just want to admire you. You tell me when and where it’s too much, and you do the same to me. Is… is that okay?” He looked up at you with those beautiful red eyes.

“Like… like what do you mean?” You asked. “Whatever it is, im alright with it, but.. you may have to take the lead, show me what you’d like. Is that alright?”

“I… want to touch you. And want you to touch me.” He hesitantly explained, a shadow of doubt cast over him now. “I dont want it to be… sexual. I… suppose I want to find where im alright with you touching me. And where youre alright with me touching you.”

“Oh,” you said, realization dawning on you. “Oh hun, of course we can do that. That sounds like a great idea.” You kissed the tip of his nose and you smiled seeing the way the tips of his pointed ears flushed.

He smiled, that slight uptick to the corner of his lip, and the way his smile lines showed and his ryes warmed just looking at you. He was so, so beautiful.

You gently cupped his cheeks in your hands, thumbing over the corner of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” you muttered, and Astarion rolled his eyes, though his smile didn’t fade for a moment.

“I know. And wonderful, don’t forget.”

You laughed. “And wonderful.” You pulled him in for a kiss, soft and tender. Astarion melted in your touch, his hands lifting to let one wrap around your chest under your arms and the other card through the hair at the back of your head and gently hold you close to him. His lips moved over yours and both of your relaxed in to the kiss.

You pulled away after a moment, saying, “How do you want to do this?”

“Maybe… here, come with me.” He took your hand and lead you to the bedroll in your tent, the two of you sitting on it facing one another. He gave an awkward pause, clearing his throat and saying, “Could… I take the lead, then you take over?”

“Of course,” you say. “Do you want me to take anything off, or keep this all over our clothes?”

“Maybe.. leave our undergarments on, but take off everything else?”

“That sounds alright,” you said. “I have a blanket right there if you need to cover up.” You motioned to the blanket next to the two of you. Astarion nodded in confirmation, and as you began reaching for the hem of your shirt, he asked you, “May I?” He reached your your shirt, pausing before reaching your hands and waiting before moving on.

You smiled, the care and focus in his expression warming your heart. “Of course,” you said. His fingers hooked under the hem of your bed shirt, pulling it up and over your head. The focus in his gaze was wonderful, so careful as if he would shatter you with one wrong move.

He let out a little sigh when he had your shirt off and tossed to the side, as of he had been holding his breath.

“Beautiful as ever,” he whispered, so soft you hardly heard it. You nudged his shoulder with a little laugh. “Gods, Astarion,” you laughed, and he joined you. His hands cupped your cheeks, and he gazed lovingly into your eyes. You had never seen him so… soft. So vulnerable. It was almost like you were looking at an entirely different man to the one you had found in the woods after the illithid ship crashed, the one who had held a knife to your throat and threatened your life. And maybe he really was a different man, after all you had went through.

But he would always be Astarion, forever your little star.

Calloused hands softly traveled down your neck, closely watching you for any reaction. Down your neck, over your shoulders, across your chest. Over your hips and up your stomach, then to your back, scooting close to feel down the line of your spine, to your shoulders, and down your arms, until his fingers tangled in yours.

“Was that alright?” He asked. You nodded, giving him an assuring smile.

“Of course,” you said. You leaned up to kiss him, a gentle peck to his lips before pulling away. Your fingers danced feather light at the hem of his bedshirt.

“May I?” You asked, to which he nodded.

You pulled his shirt up over his head, watching his gaze fall to the ground. It had always made him a little nervous to feel so bare in such an intimate way, but you didn’t let your gaze linger on his body, instead starting how he did, cupping his cheeks.

You moved to trace over the points of his ears, and he laughed softly, relaxing in to your touch as your fingers carded through his hair.

You hands moved to his jawline, before slowly moving to his neck. You watched his smile fade and a more focused expression return. You tilted your head, and he looked to you.

“I’m not sure.” He said, almost as if having read your mind. You nodded; he’d always been iffy about any touch on the side of his neck that Cazador bit him on. You moved on without another word, to his shoulders and his chest. Neither of which he had any complaint over, you noted.

Your fingers ghosted over the muscles of his abdomen, and you noted how Astarion watched your hand with an intent gaze. You thumbed over the top of his pants before gently resting your hands on the small of his back. You looked at him, waiting for him to return your gaze before you asked, “Your back. Is that a no overall?”

He pursed his lips and looked away.

“That… may be situational. I dont mind sometimes, but others…”

You nodded and said, “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll ask you before I ever touch you there, alright?” He nodded, visibly relaxing.

You moved to hook your fingers under the waistband of his pants, once again looking at him for approval before continuing. He nodded, hut you said to him, “Use your words, hun.”

“You can,” he said. He knew you always preferred he be vocal about his consent, instead of implying it. It made it easier for you to judge when he really wanted it.

Sometimes it was hard for him to know when he really wanted it.

Nodding, you gently pulled his pants down, him lifting his hips to help you out. You hummed, seeing him in nothing but his underwear. He truly was beautiful.

Starting with his hips, you pressed your thumbs against his hip bones, before moving to his outer thighs. You felt him grimace a bit, looking up to him.

“It’s alright,” he quickly assured. “Maybe move a little slower, if thats okay?”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” You responded.

Making a note to move more carefully, you moved down to his knees, then his calves. You ran your hands up the insides of his legs, stopping at his inner thighs. He shuffled a little, saying, “I think this is fine.. just let me know before you touch me here, please?”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said with a light hearted smile, moving in to kiss him.

It was slow and sweet, and you felt him squirming a little under you with you leaned over him and your hands on his thighs.

When you pulled away, his hands went up to the waistband of your pants.

When you nodded your approval, he removed the clothing, mimicking your motions with care and attentiveness. He was so gentle.

When he sat back on his knees, you noticed something you handn’t noticed before; Astarion was hard. You looked away quickly, not meaning to be rude, but he noticed your gaze and pulled back, sitting on his bottom and pulling his knees up to his chest to hide himself. Hurriedly, he said, his words coming out in one long string, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I think I just enjoyed seeing you like this but I dont want this to be sexual and I dont think I can handle being touched like that right now, but if you want me to touch you I can, I just-“

You hushed him, moving up to place a hand on his shoulder and gently thumb at the skin there.

“Darling, hush now. It’s alright. Its perfectly normal. I dont want anything like that right now either.” You assured him, the nearly scared way he looked up at you breaking your heart.

“You… you’re sure? Im still sorry I got… excited, I guess, I promise it wont happen again.” He seemed almost desperate to convince you he was truly sorry, and you gently cupped his cheeks, tilting up his head to look at you.

“My love,” you spoke, voice nearly a whisper. “I promise, it’s alright. We wont be doing anything sexual tonight, and I’ll pretend this didn’t even happen. Okay? There’s no need to be afraid.”

He nodded, his eyes shining almost as if he was on the brink of tears.

“Okay,” he breathed.

You kissed him softly, which he returned after a moment of hesitation.

You leaned back in the bed roll, saying, “Would you like to continue?” He took a breath and nodded, that signature smile returning to his face, even if it was a little forced. His hands crossed your thighs, calves, giving you a cheeky grin as he squeezed your butt, you swatting at him and rolling your eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright with this all? You haven’t mentioned anything to me about anywhere you dont like…” he trailed, settling next to you.

“I’m sure. If its you, im alright with anything.”

“What?” He said, looking at you. His expressing was one of confusion. “Why?” He propped himself on up his elbows, looking down at you next to him. “What makes me so special?”

You stared back at him for a moment, equally as baffled as him. “What makes you so- Astarion, love, everything. You’re the brightest light in my life, the reason I keep fighting, you’re my everything. I’ve seen the best and worst sides of you, and you’ve seen the best and worst sides of me. You’re the one constant in my life, and you’re absolutely wonderful. I-“ you trailed off a little, noticing the way Astarion stared at you with an unreadable expression; shock, maybe?

His bottom lip started to tremble, and he said in a shaky voice, “You… you mean that?” Before breaking down in to tears.

You stayed still for a moment as he cried, completely caught off guard, watching him shrink down in to the bedroll, but quickly moved to action and pulled him close, gently hushing him. “Shhh, shshsh,” you cooed, burying your nose in his soft hair and combing through the white strands. “It’s alright, hun, don’t worry. It’s okay.”

The way his shoulders heaved with every fresh round of sobs wrenched your heart, and you felt guilt swirl deep within you. “I’m so sorry, I-“

“Don’t,” he managed to breathe between sobs. “You mean it?” He sniffed, looking up to you with a tear stricken gaze.

“Of course,” you cooed. “I mean it all. You’re my everything.” You kissed his forehead, and he was wrecked by a fresh round of sobs, burying his face in your chest. You pulled him close and held him, rocking him softly as he cried. Your poor, sweet boy.

It may have been ten minutes, it may have been an hour. Eventually, Astarion’s breathing slowly began to even out, and his sobs became few and far between. Is a shaky, hoarse voice, he started to speak.

“Two hundred years. For two hundred years I was locked in that crypt.” Your fingers combed through his hair and his memories came back to him. “Cazador put so many horrible thoughts in my head. About myself, about the people around me. I never trusted anyone again until I met you. I never even trusted myself. A monster, I am, just a creature meant to feed off of the innocent. I haven’t been mine in so long.”

You started to speak, started to assure him that he wasn’t a monster, this wasn’t his choice, but you second guessed. Astarion being this vulnerable was… rare. So you gave him his moment.

“You’ve always been so trusting. I thought you were just stupid at first,” he laughed softly, and you rolled your eyes with a little smile. “But I realized that you are the only person whos ever put faith in me. Ever. At least within my memories. You’re… the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. So careful. So understanding. I dont understand why you care so much, but… thank you. And… I love you.”

Your heart was in your throat, choking you from the inside. You hugged him tighter, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too,” you breathed.

You placed your fingers under his chin to tilt his head up, giving him a warm smile when his eyes met yours. You leaned down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his and closing your eyes, feeling the way he relaxed in to your touch. Your lips moved together, in time as if this were practiced. You pulled away, and he gave you a little smile.

“You’re such a romantic,” you laughed. “It’s adorable. I love it.”

He clicked his tongue and looked away, though the little upwards tick in the corner of his lip gave away his stifled smile.

The rest of the night was filled with stolen kisses, little laughs, and sharing one another’s embrace. Astarion truly was something else, and he saw the same in you. You were the kind of dream he’d always held, a perfect lover who was kind and sweet. You were that. You had been next to him as he gained his freedom, encouraged him and trusted him even when you shouldn’t have. And he was so happy that you had made that choice, now.

.

.

Taglist

@adequate-superstar

@be-a-fish

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 14 (END)

I AM PUTTING AN END TO YOUR SUFFERING!

Thank you all so much for sticking around for this story! I'll admit I lost steam during my hiatus, but I'm glad I finally found the time to finish this for you guys.

This story took so many twists and turns that I was not expecting - I honestly had nothing after the first few chapters planned, I just let my brain run with whatever it came up with. And it FINALLY wormed its way to a in my opinion satisfactory conclusion.

Hope you all enjoy :)

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: FLUFF, EMOTIONAL HEALING, SMUTTTTTT (in a FWB fic? No way). 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 2,470

You wake to the feeling of Bucky’s hand gently shaking your shoulder.

“Do you still want a bath? You can always take one tomorrow,” he murmurs to you. 

You hum and nod your head, still determined to wash yourself before crawling under the covers of your bed that you’ve missed oh so much over the last year.

Woah, you think, it’s been a whole year since I left?

You look up into Bucky’s eyes as he hovers over you. There are dark shadows under his eyes now and his hair is shorter than it was this time last year, even if it has grown out in these last few months. His face is weary, tired from his lack of restful sleep, but his eyes are soft as he looks at you. You can see something in his gaze that wasn’t there in all your intimate moments prior to this: there’s something soft, tender, where there used to be only lust.

Your heart beats a staccato rhythm, excited and hopeful at what you think – what you believe – that look means. You reach up, placing one hand on his jaw and swiping your thumb across his cheek.

“Help me?” you ask tentatively.

Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. His face crumbles slightly as he looks down at you. “I can get one of the nurses?” he proposes instead. “Or Wanda and Natasha if you’d like.”

You shake your head softly and continue to look into his eyes. “I want you.”

He sucks in a breath before taking you by the hands and gently pulling you to sit up. He slides down onto his knees in front of you and holds your hands tightly between his own, as if he’s afraid that you’ll take them away.

“I…” he starts. “I know there are still some things you don’t remember. People, and places, and events that are missin'. There’s… there’s somethin’ that happened between us – there’s somethin’ I did to us.” His eyes had been on you while saying this, but now he looks down at your clasped hands and starts fiddling with your fingers in nervousness. “I’ve said things to you that I never should have – hurt you in a way that you didn’t deserve. You don’t ever deserve to be hurt. ‘Specially not by me, not by things I say.”

Bucky blows out a breath and looks back up to your eyes. “We were… together. Last year. I asked you for somethin’ that I never should have because I was selfish. And you are so good, such a good person, and you agreed even when it was a bad idea.” 

At this point, you retract one of your hands from Bucky’s grasp, feeling him tighten his hold before letting you go. You place that hand back on Bucky’s cheek, cupping his jaw and feeling the movement as he speaks.

“Then you told me that you liked me,” he breathes. “You told me somethin’ so amazin’ and sweet and somethin’ I should have cherished, but I didn’t. I got mad and I pushed you away – pushed you so far away that you weren’t even on the same continent, doll.” Bucky’s breathing is ragged, but he still looks into your eyes, begging you to see the truth and feelings behind his words. 

“When you came back, I told you I was sorry. But I didn’t get to finish what I’d been plannin’ to say because then you-'' a breath, “then you told me you didn’t love me anymore - that you realized you had never liked me in that way, just got caught up in what we were doin’.” He reaches one hand up and holds onto your wrist. “I was gonna tell you that I felt the same way you did – that I liked you and wanted to try again. But after you said you didn’t have feelin’s for me, I realized I couldn’t do that to you – couldn’t put you through my shit again.”

“Bucky,” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“So we went back to bein’ friends and I was just happy to have you back in my life again. Glad that we could talk and hang out like we used to. Then we met Petre on the mission and I – I got jealous.” Bucky bites his lip and shakes his head in agitation at himself, his actions. “I got jealous because you were always with him, because he got to be with you and talk to you. You kept laughin’ at everythin’ he said, smiled at ‘im. And I said more stupid shit, more hurtful things to you. And then…”

Bucky pauses for a moment before moving both his hands to your waist, gripping your hips with one thumb swiping over the part of your shirt that hides the scar on your stomach. “Then you got hurt and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to protect you and I almost lost you.” Tears well along his lower lashes, but don’t fall.

“You died,” he whispers. “I had to give you CPR ‘til the rest of the team showed up. Then I just watched you lay there in the jet on the way back. Then your surgeries. Then as you were in and out of a coma for two months. I couldn’t let you out of my sight,” he sighs out. 

Bucky’s arms slide from your waist and go around your back before lowering his head down until his forehead rests on your chest. He continues, words muffled by your body. “I was so afraid you’d disappear again. That you’d leave me and not come back and I could never tell you how sorry I was or how much I love you.”

You circle your arms around him and lean over his body where he’s wrapped around you, heart hurting at the pain you both have been dealing with.

“I know,” you whisper into his hair. “I remember.”

Bucky leans back, looking into your eyes once again. “And you’ve let me do this?” he questions. “Dealt with me not leavin’ you alone and smotherin’ you?”

“You’re not smothering me,” you console, pushing his hair away from his forehead and scratching his scalp. “I missed you so, so much. I just wanted you to hold me like you used to, even if you still didn’t feel the way I do.”

“What do you mean?” he wonders, eyes darting between your own, searching for an answer before you give it.

“I lied,” you say. “I lied when I came back. I just thought it’d be easier on the both of us if I told you what you wanted to hear – that I didn’t like you and that we could go back to being friends.” You smooth the lines that appear on Bucky’s brow as his eyebrows furrow. “I knew I loved you last year. And I still love you – I think I always will.”

“Yeah?”

You smile at the hope in Bucky’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“I love you too, darlin’ – always will,” Bucky mutters as he slowly closes the distance between your faces. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

You shake your head and continue to smile at him. “You’re worth the wait, Buck.”

Bucky’s lips connect with yours; tentative at first, trying to remember the rhythm the two of you used to have. It comes back quickly, muscle memory working and getting you both reacquainted with one another’s kiss.

You feel Bucky’s hands slide up from your back, caressing your arms, shoulders, neck, before holding onto your face, keeping you in place as he slides his tongue against your lips before slipping it inside your mouth.

You hum at the familiarity of the action. You spread your fingers against Bucky’s chest, feeling his heart beat hard against your touch.

Bucky rises, lips still on yours, and pushes you further onto the bed. He guides you backwards until you’re lying under him, one of his legs between your own. He snakes a hand under your shirt, massaging your breast. You gasp into his mouth when he gives a quick pinch of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Needing to feel more of you, Bucky removes your shirt and bra so that he can lavish kisses onto your breasts, sucking your nipples into his mouth and tugging gently.

You slide your hands down, down, down his abdomen, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. You run your index finger against his skin behind the metal button before popping it open and pulling the zipper down. You tug Bucky’s pants until his cock springs free, already hard and hot. You grasp it in your hand, slowly stroking him.

Bucky groans into your mouth, kissing you harder. Without warning, he backs off of the bed. You start to protest at the loss of him, but he just grabs your hips and pulls your leggings and panties off your body in one motion. Cool air caresses your moist folds as Bucky pulls your legs apart. He settles himself between your thighs, mouth leaving a trail of kisses from your knee and down, down, down to your core. He breathes you in before licking a quick swipe up your crease.

You twitch at the sensation, not having been touched by anyone in so long. Your hands grasp Bucky’s hair, pulling him further into you. He uses his fingers to part your folds, delving his tongue into you. You pant helplessly as he works you quickly toward the edge. He remembers exactly how to make you come, and it seems he’s on a mission to make it happen as quickly as possible.

Wetness collects under Bucky’s tongue, dribbling down onto the sheets below you. Before you reach your peak, you try to push Bucky’s face away.

“Bucky - unh,” you cry. “I want you.”

“I’m right here, doll,” he mutters into your core, continuing to lick and thrust his tongue. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“No,” you say. “No, I want you inside me. Please, Bucky.”

Bucky moans into you before leaving one last kiss and crawling up your body. He tugs his shirt over his head and kicks his pants completely off, pulling your legs so that the inside of your knees rest against his hips. He begins to lay down on you, his elbows resting beside your head and chest coming flush with yours, but you wince.

“Gentle, baby,” you plead. “My ribs are still a little sore.”

Bucky immediately rises up and places a soft kiss on your lips. “Of course. I’m sorry, Doll.”

You shake your head and pull his lips back to yours. “Don’t be sorry.” You circle your hands around his waist and tug his hips closer to yours. “Just go easy on me.”

Bucky lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes inside, watching your face as your body acclimates to his after so long apart. Your lips part and your breaths come in pants as you slowly open up around Bucky’s girth.

He caresses your face, smoothing your hair back so he can see your face clearly. You catch his eyes as he looks down at you and you give him a happy smile. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper, massaging the back of his neck. 

Bucky slots his lips against yours and kisses you deeply. “I’ve missed you more,” he replies. You both smile into the kiss while you adjust. After a few moments, Bucky pulls away to ask, “are you ready?”

You nod your head and plant your feet more firmly against the mattress, knees still resting against Bucky’s hips. He slowly pulls out inch by inch until the head of his cock is all that’s left. Then, he pushes back into you, the rigid head and veins sliding against your walls and sending pleasure through you. You sigh in content, relishing the feeling of having Bucky inside you again.

Bucky takes his metal arm and pulls one of your hands away from his neck to place it on the mattress, twining your fingers together as he continues to pump slowly in and out of you, making sure to angle himself just right so that he drags against your walls where you need. 

You make love slow and gentle, neither of you in a rush. You take your time touching each other’s bodies again, exploring the places your hands and mouths still remember. Bucky kisses your jaw and down the side of your neck, suckling on the tender spot just above your collarbone. 

You arch your neck backwards to give him more room, but he takes the opportunity to untwine your fingers and move his metal hand between your bodies, cool thumb making circles around your clit. You release a whine, your body stiffening up as the coil inside you tightens and then dissolves, sending waves of pleasure tingling along your nerves. Your walls flutter and pulse around Bucky’s shaft and he grunts softly at the pressure, the vibration of the noise tickling your neck where his lips still rest.

You grab his face in both hands and bring him back up to you. You pepper his face with languid kisses – his forehead, cheeks, nose, eyelids, and finally his lips. You lick the inside of his mouth, your tongues sliding against one another. 

Bucky gently bites your lower lip and sucks it into his mouth to soothe it. He continues to thrust into you, your body still tingling from your first orgasm and swiftly approaching the next. You start to quake in Bucky’s arm from the overstimulation, but you still yearn for him. You begin to gasp and whimper, the noise rising involuntarily from you. 

Bucky kisses you one more time and moves his hand to the small of your back, raising your hips up to meet his. You keen at the new angle, toes starting to curl.

“You got one more for me, doll?” Bucky gasps. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.”

Your body heeds Bucky’s command, shivering around his cock once more. Feeling your pussy gripping him so tight, Bucky comes with you, his warm seed coating your walls and seeping out of you.

You lie together for long moments, staring into each other’s eyes and breathing deeply, lips connecting every few seconds for more kisses. Bucky lifts you up, cock still buried inside you, and turns so that you’re lying on top of him. Your legs straddle his waist and your head rests on his chest, listening to the thud of his heart. 

You lay there until you’re almost asleep, but Bucky kisses your head and picks you up to carry you to the ensuite, where he re-runs the bath with hot water and another lavender bath bomb. He places you down into the steaming water and climbs in behind you, where he takes his time lathering you up and washing your hair. You lean into him and surrender to the affection.

After you’re clean, he dries you off and slips his t-shirt over your head. He carries you back to bed and pulls the blanket over your body before sliding in beside you and pulling you on top of him once again. He places one hand in your hair to massage your scalp while the other smoothes over your back. 

You both lay together in a contented, blissful quiet. You fall asleep with the knowledge that whatever comes your way, you and Bucky will work through it.

Together.

Fin

Tag list: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

[ivystoryweaver]

🦸🏽ANYTHING on spectre marc after readers death please and thank you i am prepared for pain🫡

You burrowed in to the dark parts - the broken, unlovable parts and made him your home. You dwelled, willingly, in the dejected, despondent substance of his soul. A soulmate.

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!reader (from my fic Spectre), but can be read on its own Word Count: 430 Content: angst, major character death…maybe?

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

There's a part of Marc that feels more...right when he loses. When he hurts.

See, he knows how deeply flawed he is - certain he doesn't actually deserve love.

This is because he robbed his mother of Randall's love - of her ability to actually love at all.

He destroyed his once happy family

Violence and isolation followed him for the rest of his life, even after Khonshu saved him

Steven and Jake healed him to a degree, made him whole.

Then came you.

But he knew, he always knew that forever with you would exist slightly out of his grasp - there was no way someone as good as you could ever really be his, not eternally.

Still, you loved him so hard, and so good. You burrowed in to the dark parts - the broken, unlovable parts and made him your home. You dwelled, willingly, in the dejected, despondent substance of his soul. A soulmate.

You weren’t there to fix him - you wanted him just how he was, even when he withdrew, when he pushed you away or pulled back. You ebbed and flowed right along with him. He learned to grow with the fluidity of your love.

And god, he adored you. He lived for you. He moved back to the States for you, happily. He cozied up to nosy, small town residents because it made you feel at home. Every time you felt homey or happy or at peace, he felt like he was stacking a building block, restoring the family and the home he once obliterated.

Marriage terrified him. But for you, he wanted to. He saved. He bought you a ring. He almost let himself believe he could have you as a wife.

And right when he thought of how he might propose…when he allowed his dreams to take root in a shred of reality…

…your light was extinguished from the universe.

For no reason at all, you died*. You left.

You didn’t mean to. It wasn’t your fault.

On the day after he buried you, Marc sat down on the floor, in the middle of your bedroom and felt…normal.

He felt the way he’d always been expecting to feel.

This was his life. This was all he would ever have. Ever deserve.

It felt more right to lose. To hurt.

Except...he had begun to believe life with you was more right.

He suddenly had a soul he shared - a mended heart. And a lifetime of love, with no one to give it to.

And that was the moment his heart truly broke.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ask me anything. Requests are open!

Marc Spector-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

My Fic Masterlist

*Spectre readers know what actually happened here! 😉

[swervinonalatenight]

I've rewatched Apology tour about five times now and I keep having this awful feeling whenever I get to the "Fuck Blitzo Party", because while the episode and tone of the section portray it as a group coping mechanism for all the people Blitzo hurt, it never feels HEALTHY.

Verosika says its them coping together and finding people who share the same pain to heal together, a group therapy session basically, but when the entire events of the session is a party, held every year solely dedicated to hating the person who hurt you despite caring about them still isn't group coping.

Its staying in the safety of your pain.

Everyone there, from Verosika to Stolas, is there because they hate Blitzo, but also still care about him. They throw knives at effigies and eat cake that looks like his corpse, yet they break down crying whenever they think of him actually getting hurt. They hate him with every fiber of their beings yet feel like shit for doing so, and they get with people who share the same pain but always come back to the same party about hating the same guy to get with people who also had their heart broken by them.

We don't know how long its been happening, but we can guess that practically everyone there is a repeat goer. even if they hook up, they always come back.

Because to them, its a form of safety. They know a place where there will be people who share similar experiences and pain, even as that place shoves that pain in their face and makes them revel in it.

It says a lot that the only person that we know ISN'T there is Fizz, and thats because Fizz forgave him after coming to an understanding with him. Fizz chose to let go of his hate after understanding what happened that night, and moved on.

I remember something my grandmother told me. Forgiving isn't letting in happiness, its letting go of pain. Fizz let go of his and is happier now, he was able to, with Blitzo's help, get free of Mamon and publicly be with Asmodeus, and the two are on better terms.

Verosika, up until Apology Tour, at any mention of Blitzo, immediately swung to mood into calling him out and embarrassing him publicly, she moved her office next to his JUST to piss her off, and it got her arrested in the human world. She throws a party to cope with her pain and heartbreak to feel better yet all it does is really make her feel like shit.

And yes, she deserves to not forgive Blitzo. She can hate him, and she is right to not want him in her life and she SHOULD show him how much he hurt her. And she has, and all she can do is KEEP doing it, keep reveling in her pain and sorrow even as she knows its bad and shitty is because its safe to her.

And she's right. Forgiveness is scary. Its like a needle in the arm, yes its going to hurt, yes its a scary thing to do, but ultimately, letting go of the hate that defines you is better, because now you can move on.

The only time we see Verosika smile, truly smile, is after Blitzo tells her he doesn't want to be the way he is and genuinely wants to change, and is truly remorseful for what he did, and she smiles. Its not one of "Im happy to see you in pain" because she's not looking at him. It reads more "You're actually trying to make things right and change, and i can get why you're like this."

The burden of proof is on the source of pain, on Blitzo, but its still a two way street for forgiveness, and Verosika should see that her "Fuck Blitzo Party" isn't going to give her the solace she wants from Blitzo.

[leilakaro]

Malleus Draconia X fem!Reader

Reminiscing in childhood memories

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, ooc (?)

Content: Malleus finds out that he and the Prefect have more in common than he thought, when the Prefect opens up about her childhood.

English is not my first language!!

(I made up my own memories, childhood trauma etc. For this reader, it's very specific so if you don't like that you probably shouldn't read, I like the thought of vulnerable moments like this tho)

It was deep into the middle of the night when you decided that you needed fresh air, and stepped outside of Ramshackle. You let yourself fall into the wet grass as you gazed up to the stars, finding comfort in its beauty. You weren't able to sleep, no of course not because today was the day. The Day of your birth, a day that you dreaded. You took a deep breath in and tried to concentrate on your breathing, instead of your overwhelming thoughts and feelings.

A deep and very familiar voice, that greeted you, made you wake up from your daydreams and jump up alarmed. "Tsunotaro you scared me!" You gasped as you looked into the dragon faes enchanting eyes. "I apologize child of man, I didn't mean to startle you." You lowered yourself into the grass again and let out a deep sigh. You followed Malleus with your eyes as he sat down beside you, not caring about the wet grass as he was simply basking in your presence. "You seem deep in thoughts child of man, do you wish to share them with me?" He looked at you with love and tenderness, yet concerned.

You avoided eye contact as you sat up again, knowing he would be upset that you didn't tell him it was your birthday. Of course he wouldn't be mad, he never gets mad at you, just upset. But maybe talking about it and showing vulnerability to the one you loved would help you move on. "Today..is my birthday" you sighed as you looked into his eyes again, and just as you expected suprise and sadness filled his eyes. Sadness because you didn't tell him about such an important date.

"Why didn't you tell me child of man? I would have organised a grand Birthday feast for you." Malleus spoke exactly the words you were afraid of. A birthday party. "That's the problem Tsunotaro, I don't want a birthday party and I don't even want any of my friends to know, that it's my birthday." You buried your face in your arms frustrated. Malleus leaned in and gently cupped one of your cheeks, making you look up at him. "Tell me about your fears and problems, my dear child of man. You have listened to me talk about my problems countless of times, it is my turn to hold and comfort you." You took his hand from your face, sliding your fingers into his. His hands were so much bigger compared to yours, he held your hand softly in his, it made you feel safe. You took a deep breath in, deciding to tell him the truth, to talk about your past and be vulnerable. To heal, to move on.

"Back in my world, I grew up very lonely. My parents were always focused on my siblings, and to be honest even outside my family.. no one really liked me. I was a lonely child with no friends, and a family who simply didn't care enough to comfort me." Malleus eyes widened slightly in shock, he knew this feeling..this loneliness, you didn't deserve it. He squeezed your hand, encouraging you to continue talking.

"I was very desperate for company, I tried so hard to make friends. I tried so hard to even get them to like me and not look at me so.. weirded out. However, my tries were in vain." Malleus listened attentively to you, his heart aching as he imagined your pain.. the same pain he experienced. He slid a little closer to you, feeling the need to protect you, to ward off your loneliness and sadness.

"Even though my tries were in vain and no matter how much I told myself that I didn't need anyone, my heart was aching to be loved. And because of that I always had a little hope left in me. So every year on my birthday I would give invitations to all of my classmates and just everyone I knew. This little hope I had left would always light up and I would get ready, put my birthday dress on and sit excited at the table, waiting for everyone to show up." Malleus slid and arm around your waist, as little sobs escaped your mouth. He knew what was coming, what you would say next, he didn't want to hear it.

"I sat there and waited for hours, no one showed up..not one single damn person showed up" hot tears stared rolling down your cheeks "Every year it broke my heart over and over again, until I just stopped trying when I was about 10. And now everything has changed, even before I came here to twisted wonderland. I started healing and found wonderful friends. But still every year I dread my birthday because I can only remember the excited little girl who waited at the table excitedly for anyone to show up, just to get disappointed over and over again. I still feel her pain so vividly, this little girl is still inside me fearing to throw a birthday party again, because what if no one shows up again? What if I just spend another birthday crying myself to sleep."

Malleus heart throbbed painfully, he knew this feeling of loneliness. He didn't want you to know this feeling. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly. He tried to put in as much love and care as he could, something he sometimes still struggled expressing.

Your hands grabbed onto him, as you cried into his shoulder. You cried for the little girl inside you, who's heart just ached to be loved.

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I got a lil carried away 🥹 But I just really love vulnerable moments like that ugh. Btw I wrote this at 4 am and while I did proof read multiple times there are probably still some mistakes.